Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ron knows he shouldn't be surprised by how strange Carl is. He grew up outside the walls, he's been out there for years just surviving with this group that Deanna decided to bring in. He knows he shouldn't be surprised that Carl hasn't said a word to him in weeks in the rare moments they see each other, or that he never meets his eyes. Ron doesn't think he's heard Carl talk ever.

Ron assumes it's a trauma response to something that happened out there. But he doesn't know what, and he doesn't care to know. The Grimes family are a thorn in his side that's pricking him every second of every day. Really. He doesn't care. He doesn't care that Carl sneaks outside the walls at least twice a week with Enid to do God knows what in the woods. He doesn't care that one of the only other kids his age refuses to speak to him or even acknowledge that he exists.

But he's just... odd. He would rather spend time with his baby sister than with other teens his own age. Ron doesn't know where he is all the time, but he knows if Carl isn't following his dad or Glenn around like a lost puppy dog he's on a blanket in his front yard with Judith, on days when the sun beats down on them. Ron will walk down the street more than he needs to on those days, because Carl is an anomaly. He talks to Judith, but it's so low Ron has never heard it, Ron watches them out of the corner of his eyes, but Carl just reads books or comics and plays with Judith.

When he isn't doing that Carl is going on runs with his dad, because he is actually allowed to do that. Because Carl is allowed to carry his own gun and knife and just keep them on him at all times for his own safety. He's fifteen and allowed to hold a gun, while Ron's mom gets nervous if he holds a kitchen knife too close to his fingers when he's chopping vegetables.

Carl goes on runs and comes back smiling like it was fun, he comes back with boxes of food and supplies, and one time with a huge box of guns he and his dad pulled in with a rope cause it was that heavy. He's always so fucking lucky, and too goddamn proud.

Ron remembers the first night they officially met at the welcome party Deanna hosted. All of his little crew were acting nervous and suspicious, all huddled together in small groups and talking amongst themselves instead of getting to know all the new people. Ron can't blame them, he hates most of these people too. But Rick was going around, a hand on Carl's shoulder and showing off his kids to anyone that would listen.

Carl just played with Judith almost mindlessly while his dad talked about him above his head, only sending glares toward his father when he said something embarrassing and shoving him when something wasn't true, he never even spoke. Ron had gone up to him when Carl went to the snack table, and asked him his name. Carl had looked at him, and his stupid brown hair was flicking up everywhere like he hadn't even bothered to brush it before coming here, and Carl looked panicked for a moment, before turning around and leaving. He just flat-out ignored him.

Carl went home early that night, and Rick said he was just having a hard time adjusting to the new place and all the new people, and then Rick went home shortly after. He didn't see Carl again for a day and a half.

He doesn't admit that he had already known Carl's name. He was just trying to be friendly. Maybe some part of him had wanted to be friends with Carl, but he had just ignored him completely. Whatever. Ron was fine with it. He didn't care whether Carl liked him or not.

Two days after the welcoming party he gets the door in the morning when Maggie and Glenn knock on it, offering up a casserole they made, a welcoming gift. Maggie says she made it but his mom takes one bite and says that it had to have been Carol. Ron doesn't even know who that is, and he doesn't care.

His mom had a bruise that morning on her jaw that she couldn't fix with makeup. Ron tries not to think about his dad down the hall, in the empty bedroom with a bottle of something, so drunk off his ass he doesn't even remember hitting her, and Ron tries not to think about how much he wants to strangle him.

His mom tells him he can take the day off school if he delivers a pie to the Grimes house. Ron doesn't know if he hates school or that family more, but he grabs the mixed berry pie and stomps down to the Grimes's house. Daryl is leaving when he approaches, and glares at Ron as he does. Ron hates him too now.

He knocks on the door, and waits until he hears Rick Grimes yell, "Come in!" So he just opens the door and lets himself in. It's almost the exact same as his house, just flipped to the opposite side, but he can see straight into the kitchen, and Carl's staring right at him. Carl furrows his brow when he sees him, and Ron notices a tablet sitting next to him propped up like he was watching a video. The Grimes family is having waffles and eggs this morning.

Rick comes out of the dining room and sees Ron, looking at him all confused before he sees the pie.

"Ah, your mom said something about making a pie, Michonne made something for her too, come here." Rick is leading him down the hall to the dining room, and he can see more into it now, he can see Carl's baby sister Judith in her high chair, eating and throwing mixed berries and chunks of waffle at her brother. Carl and Rick both don't seem to find this an issue. Michonne is at the counter in the kitchen pouring what looks like orange juice.

Ron's family couldn't even pretend to be this normal. This happy. His mom tries, and they play pretend for the other people, she calls them her boys and smiles so brightly her foundation cracks when people ask her how she's doing. But inside they don't have family breakfasts, Ron just holes himself up in his room if he's even awake at breakfast time, his dad drunk on the couch or the spare room, his brother at school, and his mom anywhere but the house to forget everything that's wrong with her family. To forget that she has the power to change it. He tries not to resent her for it. He tries not to resent the Grimes for being perfect. He fails at both.

"Ron, good morning, did your mom make the pie?" Michonne asked him. He knew the people Carl came with were all close like family, but he didn't realize Michonne was close enough to the Grimes to have breakfast with them, to be standing in her pajamas in their house. To be living with them.

"Yeah. Mixed berries. Raspberries and blueberries and some others. She had to run so I brought it." Ron's used to this. Lying. He lies to everyone, all the time. He says his mom is sick when really her eye is so bruised she can't see out of it. He says he is okay when people ask him.

"I bet it'll be delicious. Tell her thank you. Do you want to sit down for breakfast?" Michonne asks kindly. Ron's immediate reaction is to say no, but then Judith gurgles something behind him and Carl does this breathless sorta laugh that makes Ron forget how to breathe for a moment, then he's saying yes before he can help it, and sitting before he realizes what's he's doing.

Sitting right across from Carl, who got another sunny-side-up egg on his plate and two more waffles. Ron asks for two waffles and one egg from Rick if he doesn't mind, and Rick jokes that he made enough to feed an army, to take as much as he wants.

Ron takes two waffles, an egg, and a handful of berries. Carl waves at him and Ron almost choked on a blueberry. But he still doesn't say anything. Is he deaf or something? Ron doesn't know sign language.

Rick and Michonne both sit down too, continuing their breakfasts and laughing when Judith throws another berry on the floor. Ron looks at Carl again to see that Carl is already looking at him, and then they're both looking down at their plates of eggs. Ron doesn't think Carl will ignore him if his dad is there.

"Carl, are you coming to school?" Ron asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He looks up again, and Carl is thinking for a moment before he slowly shakes his head at Ron. Then he presses a button on his tablet.

"Maybe." A robotic voice says. Ron doesn't know what to say for a moment, but the whole room feels tense with an energy that he doesn't quite understand, and Ron doesn't exactly feel welcome anymore. It feels like when his dad starts to get drunk, where he knows that one wrong move or one rude word will get him hit. Where he knows one snide remark will get him beat until he passes out.

Rick is glaring at him, he can feel it burning the side of his skull. Ron swallows a piece of egg.

"Lucky guy. My mom wants me to take more classes." Ron tries to lighten the mood, and the burning on the side of his skull goes away, and the tense aura is dropped almost immediately after, the whole room seemed to let out a breath like he had just beat a game he didn't know he was playing.

Carl types something one-handed on his tablet. "School was never really my thing. I like patrolling." The robotic voice says again, and Ron nods in understanding.

"School isn't exactly my thing either. I would rather patrol too." He says quietly, he realizes he's almost done with his meal. But he wants to stay, he wants to ask more. We're his vocal cords broken? Was he really deaf? No. Ron knows he's not deaf, he can hear Ron perfectly fine, it's just the whole voice thing he has trouble with.

Carl doesn't use his tablet for the rest of breakfast, he gets up without out excusing himself which would get Ron yelled at on a good day and picks up his hat from a hook, grabs a small bag, and leaves without a word. Michonne sends a questioning glance to Rick.

"Glenn. He's taking him out on a run with Rosita." Michonne nods, and suddenly he's gone from the table just as quickly as he came. Excusing himself and leaving after thanking them for the breakfast. He won't admit it to himself, but he follows Carl out to the wall, and watches him give Glenn a bro hug and Rosita a fist bump before loading up the car with his bag, then Carl is glancing back at him again, eyes shocked for a moment before he smiles and waves at him. Ron can't quite smile, but he waves back.

It's not until he's already inside and hears his dad screaming that he realizes he forgot to ask Michonne to return the pie dish. It doesn't really matter. It'll be traded around town and find its way back to them eventually. Ron's dad screams again. There's a loud thump from upstairs and Ron squeezes his eyes shut like if he can't see anything it'll all go away.

He thinks of the peace at a Grimes family breakfast, how much he hates them for being happy, how much he hates himself for hating them. He thinks of Carl beaming at him, of Carl going on runs and shooting down walkers as he hears his dad land another punch. Ron realizes he would rather be out there fighting the undead than in his own home. But he knows he can't, he can't even protect his own mother. How will he ever be able to protect himself out there? To protect the town.

His feet carry him upstairs before he can help it, and carries him to his parent's bedroom. He swings the door open, and his dad is on top of her, clawing and pawing at her like he's trying to devour her, like those monsters outside the walls. But Ron thinks he might be worse, he's worse than those mindless creatures, because when Ron sees walkers there's no light in their eyes, no recognition, but when his dad snaps up to look at him, to yell at him to get out, Ron sees that light, that recognition, that life. He doesn't know if he says anything, but his mouth moves.

Ron swings with all his might, and sends his father to the floor when his fist connects with his face, he hears his hand snap and pop, and his mom is gasping on the bed as she hastily pulls her clothes in order. Then his dad is on top of him, he's on the floor, and his dad is punching him, then he's standing and kicking, and Ron doesn't really remember much else after that.

His mom says he has to take time off school, that he has to heal. But Ron doesn't care. It's been two days, his face is still yellow and blue and bruised but their doctor said he would be fine. Bruised ribs, they hurt so bad he can't raise his arms. His mom doesn't care. Not enough. If she cared he would be gone. He hates her and himself for hating her. He hates his dad more. He also loves his dad, and his mom. But he also knows that he can't keep letting this happen, for himself, for her, for Sam.

His mom tells him to stay home, but Ron gets up the second she leaves and crawls out his window as he does in the middle of the night when the screaming matches get too loud, and realizes it's a lot harder to climb down the trellis with bruised ribs.

He goes out the front door.

He walks down to the Grimes family home, and no one's on the porch this time to glare at him, and he raises his arm to knock despite it hurting, and knocks on the door. Rick yells again to come in, and Ron fumbles with the door to get in.

Carl is sitting at the table again. Just eggs today, but he can see his jaw drop in surprise. He looks horrified when he sees Ron, and for a moment, just a mere second, that hurts more than the bruises on his ribs.

"What, Carl?" And Rick is up and looking down the hall, at Ron. He assumes he looks a little worse for wear. His hand is bandaged because he apparently doesn't know how to throw a punch without breaking his thumb, and his face is ugly purple and yellow by now with all his bruises. His eye is swollen shut and the other has stitches.

"Jesus Christ, Ron. What the hell happened?" Rick rushes him to sit down at the table. Michonne barely hides her gasp. Ron thinks for a moment that this must be what it's like to have a good family. A happy one. One that cares. A dad that loves you. He wonders why he never got this, why he never deserved love like this.

His lip is busted in two different spots. He speaks anyway.

"I need you to teach me how to throw a punch." Ron raps. His voice is hoarse from misuse. He hasn't been talking to his mom since it happened. He wonders if Carl's voice will sound this raspy whenever he talks. Ron wants to hear it, he thinks Carl would have a nice voice.

"What? Ron, why?"

"'Cus my dads a dick." Ron spits out, and the whole room seems to freeze.

"Your dad did this to you?" Rick looks almost disgusted. That's not the looks Ron is used to. When he told Enid she reacted with total indifference, said it sucked, and that her bedroom window was always open if he needed a friend.

"I punched him first," Ron mumbled. He didn't realize Carl had left until he comes back, with even more supplies that their doctor didn't have. He knew they were hoarding supplies, that they were keeping secrets, he can't even bring himself to care as Carl runs some sort of gel on his eye.

"It'll help it heal," Michonne explains quickly, she's looking down at him, Ron can't see very well, but she looks almost concerned for him.

"Doesn't matter if you punched your dad first. He did this to you. That's not acceptable. Why did you punch him?" Rick demanded, and Carl stops rubbing the gel on his eye and pulls away. Ron misses his touch. He smelt like the lavender shampoo they all use here. It smells different on him. Ron thinks his dad gave him a concussion.

"He was hurting my mom," Ron mumbles. "That's why I need you to teach me how to hurt him back. I broke my thumb trying." He holds up his hand for emphasis, the bandage is peeling at the ends, but they don't have enough to keep up with how often you should change the bandages.

Rick looks conflicted for a moment, he and Michonne are sharing a silent conversation in a way that only adults can do, and Ron looks at Carl, hoping maybe they can do the same. Carl won't meet his eye, he fidgets with his fingers anxiously, going from tapping them on the table to cracking them until his knuckles pop to just weaving them through each other without really thinking about it. Ron can't stop staring at his hands.

"I'll deal with your dad Ron." He had almost forgotten Rick and Michonne were in the room, he looks back at Rick, his eyes burning.

"Are you going to kill him?" He asks quietly.

"If it gets to that point." Ron doesn't know how to respond to that. It's his dad. He taught him how to ride a bike, how to barbecue, and swing a bat, he took him to the comic book store on Wednesdays after school and would kiss his head before bed, and said he did a good job at school. Now he's the man that abuses his mom and little brother, who hits him, who yells at him for crying because boys shouldn't do that.

He's the same guy that beat him so bad after he told him he was gay that he didn't leave the house for almost two weeks. He never said those words again. He threw himself at Enid and Angela until Angela died and Enid said she wasn't interested. Then he cried in an empty house so he could assure his father wouldn't hear him.

He thinks of his mom on the floor, of all the screaming and the blood and the bandages, the bruises they all have like matching tattoos. He thinks of the Grimes family at the breakfast table, laughing with each other and being happy. Thinks of coming home to his dad shouting stuff at him.

His eyes burn into the wood grain table.

"Do whatever you want with him. I'm tired of being afraid. I want to... I want to not be afraid anymore." Ron whispers quietly. It's a secret. Something he would never say to his mom or Enid or Mikey. So he doesn't know why he's saying it now.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, it's Carl, who looks rather awkward as he looks down at Ron, who brings his other hand down and grabs his upper arm. He's actually making eye contact now as Ron stares at him. He thinks maybe they're having a conversation like Rick and Michonne were. That Carl is telling him it'll be okay.

It doesn't feel like it. But maybe it could be.

Ron doesn't know the fate of his dad. He didn't want to be there when the whole town decided what was to happen to him. The people he had spent years with choosing if his dad lived, died, got sent out the wall, or if they should start a prison system.

But his dad never came back. His mom didn't talk about it. She took off her ring, she went by her maiden name again. Suddenly he was Ron Hale again. They were the Hales again. His stuff was moved out and all bottles of alcohol that he had been hoarding were gone, donated to the pantry. Ron felt like he could breathe again. He knew his life wouldn't be fixed just because his dad was gone now, but some part of him had hoped.

He wasn't fixed. There were still days when he couldn't bare to get out his bed, where his anger festered and built so much that he felt crazy and just laid in bed all day feeling like he was on fire until he cooled down.

Three weeks after his dad died Rick invited him to learn to shoot. Ron went, and half expected Carl to be there, in his stupid little sheriff's hat that he always wears. He wasn't there, and Rick taught him all the things about a gun.

They went over the proper way to hold it, and how to be safe with a gun, how the safety works and how to turn it off and on, that the safety should always be on at all times, and if he's storing it to leave it unloaded.

Rick teaches him how to shoot it too, they hit cans on wooden stumps littered with bullet holes and Ron hits his first can on the second try. He feels almost powerful as the can dings and the gunshot rings out.

It's after they're done that Rick slides down against a house and makes Ron join him.

"Carl's worried about you." Ron freezes. He doesn't feel safe, despite the gun at his side. He feels like his whole chest is caving in on him.

"He... wants to be your friend." Rick continues on a bit awkwardly. Ron doesn't really know how to respond to that. "He's never met someone his age, not since after this all started. But Carl's not like the rest of you."

"He doesn't talk." Ron blurts out, then feels his face heat up involuntarily.

"Kind of. He talks around family. Where he feels more comfortable. But... he's autistic. You know what that means kid?"

But Ron doesn't even really care about any of that. "Do you have permission to be telling me this?" He doesn't want to hear it if it doesn't come from Carl. He doesn't know why.

"Yes," Rick says simply, and he looks almost bewildered at the question, like he's surprised Ron would ever think that he would just run around telling people private stuff about his son. Ron thinks of his dad telling his friends he came out as queer, thinks of the dirty looks they still give him. Alexandria is a safe haven, until it's not.

"I know what it means. Kinda. Kid in school had it." Ron tries to piece it together in his brain. All the threads are quickly connecting.

"Okay. Well, Carl. He's not verbal most of the time, but he talks in other ways. He's got his tablet, as you saw-" Ron thinks of the tense energy at the table when Carl used it, the way Rick had glared at him, he was waiting for Ron to say something disrespectful. Ron had passed the invisible test.

"He uses it sometimes. But he just prefers not to talk at all. He has other ways of speaking." Carl, tugging on his dad's sleeve at that party to go home, to tell him he was going to the snack table. The way he hugged Glenn in greeting before they went on a run. Things he had never quite noticed.

"Thanks, Mr. Grimes. Your son is pretty cool." Rick smiles at him, and that feels like enough for the time being.

The next time he sees Carl he's doing what he's always doing. Carl is lounging in the front yard of his house in the middle of the day, reading a book on some quilt on the grass. He trimmed his hair back a few days ago, and it brushed the base of his neck. He's lost in his book and Ron thinks he could just keep staring forever. But Rick and Michonne are both on the swing set on the porch and they've spotted him, so now he has to do something.

That something is apparently sitting down next to Carl on his blanket like it's the most normal thing ever. Carl panics and looks up at him, he tosses his headphones on the quilt, and they're still blasting music, Ron picks them up and holds them to his head.

"Nice. I love Pierce the veil." He says, and Carl smiles, quickly turning the music off. Carl doesn't have his tablet, so Ron doesn't exactly know how this will work.

"Are they your favorite?" He asks, and Carl nods quickly, then gestures to Ron. "My favorite? Hm. They're not an emo band or anything, but I really like Miniature Tigers. I don't really listen to music much anymore." Carl frowns so deeply Ron almost laughs.

"Where'd you get your CD pack, and all the CDS?" Ron asks, Carl points to his dad, and he smiles at the pair when he notices.

"Nice. No one here seems to realize how much fun we could have if we stopped raiding gas stations and started raiding the fun places. Like record stores and comic book stores." Carl nods enthusiastically, then claps his hands.

He stares down at them as if they've betrayed him, then looks up at Ron, and tells him to hold on with one finger, before running into the house, and running out with his tablet. Ron beams.

Carl sits back down and quickly types.

"I could take you on a run. With my dad, to a music store. He said he would take me on Thursday." The robotic voice says. Ron has come to associate it with Carl, but he itches to hear the boy's voice, but this is enough, and some sappy part of Ron thinks it could always be enough if Carl really couldn't talk.

"If your dad would take me, I'd love to. We could find new bands together." He doesn't realize how close they've leaned together until his forehead bumps Carl's.

"I'm sure he would say yes." The robotic voice chimes in, and then they're both smiling at each other. Yeah, this could always be enough.

Days go by, and the both of them do nothing but talk to each other. Ron shows him his bedroom and Carl fawns over his comic collection, tells him all about the way he used to collect before the apocalypse but it's long gone by now. He thumbs through Ron's records and picks The Pixies one, and they blast it until they couldn't hear each other if they tried to talk, and just spent the afternoon together.

Ron eats breakfast with the Grimes two mornings, waffles and eggs with berries again. It's so normal it could make him cry, stupidly enough. Carl shows him his room, where he has a bookshelf of worn paperbacks. He tells him some have been with him since before the apocalypse, some are from the prison he used to live at, and some of the kid's books used to belong to a friend of his, and now he reads them to Judith, even if she couldn't understand yet.

They share earbuds and listen to Carl's CDS on his bed in silence, they stare at the ceiling and at each other since there isn't that far to go. He smiles so hard his jaw hurts when he's home, and Carl keeps flapping his hands at his sides, and Ron tries not to find it cute.

The more he talks to Carl, learns his non-verbal cues and his voice through the tablet, he realizes Carl isn't really that shy. He's kind of a bitch. Even without the robotic tone of the tablet. He's sarcastic and funny and even a little mean sometimes, but never to Ron.

Carl sometimes got embarrassed when he did certain things, when he rocked back and forth during music or flapped his hands, but Ron just told him not to worry about it. Because really, he didn't care. He just wanted Carl to be comfortable. He hoped he was.

Carl shows him that his dad is building a tree house in their backyard by the fence outside, and that with the treehouse Carl will be able to get over the wall quicker, when Ron asks why his dad would ever allow that Carl says it's an escape route, hidden by a tree house. Ron doesn't think that's the entire truth, but it doesn't matter.

Rick lets him help build it, he joins their little family in the backyard and listens to Rick's instructions on where the boards go and the proper way to hammer the nails in. Michonne and Judith play with baby toys on a blanket in the grass, sipping lemonade with raspberries in them. Carl sits on the fence high above them, watching as his dad and friend build the treehouse in a content silence.

Wednesday night after the sun goes down and Ron had joined the Grimes for dinner Carl takes him outside and they lay out on the blanket and stare at the stars while they listen to music from Carl's CD player. It should be so boring, to stare into the dark looking at balls of gas, not saying anything, but Ron had never felt more content in his life.

They both end up falling asleep out there, listening to something Ron can't even remember. His mom comes over and has to shake him awake and he reluctantly goes home with her, not without hugging Carl tightly. He looked adorable that night, his hair was sticking up everywhere and his face was bright red from the cold, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Rick had led him inside and when Ron came through he saw them both passed out on the couch with Judith between them, just staring at him. He didn't really like kids, but Judith was a nice one, and he gave her a high five and she giggled, then he went home and dreamed of sleeping under the stars with Carl every night.

On Thursday afternoon Rick brings them to the fence and they both get in the back. He doesn't know how they both decided to do that instead of one of them taking the front, but Rick just smiles and drives off, the two of them sharing earbuds all the way to the music store.

When they get to a small store not three miles away, Rick helps them scan the place for walkers, and when he decides it's clear, lets them go off on their own. There are no lights and they're both shining flashlights everywhere, but it's fun. They pick our records and CDs for each other that they think the other would like, and Carl scrunches up his nose at some upbeat pop album Ron gives him as a joke.

Ron checks the back of the store too, for all the stuff they never unloaded, and finds a bag of joints stored between two stacks of records, and he laughs until Carl comes to join him. Ron shines his light on the bag to show it off, and Carl tilts his head in confusion at him.

"Weed, dude. It's weed. Makes you feel all floaty and like, a lot less anxious." He explains. He shoves the baggie into his backpack, and Carl rocks back and forth on his feet. Not anxiously, just as he always does, he wrings his hands together and his flashlight flashes all over the room.

"We can try it if you want? Later obviously." Carl nods, and Ron smiles again. He's always smiling around Carl these days. He makes him smile. Just thinking about him makes Ron perk up. He's had fewer bad days than good, because he finally feels like he has something to look forward to. He finally feels like he has something that makes him happy.

He knows he's lucky. He's been in Alexandria since almost the start. He doesn't know the outside world like Carl does. But being trapped in the walls is a different kind of torture. It's just other adults, he has two other kids his age and nowhere to go. They never let him leave, and with his dad, sometimes the safe haven felt more like a prison.

But Carl makes it feel less so. His dad is gone and his mom is happy, his brother is bouncy again, and Ron can lift his arms up again, and Carl is always smiling at him and laughing with him and mouthing words at him.

Ron suddenly feels a lot of things, his flashlight pointed just by Carl's head so he doesn't blind him with the lights. It illuminates one side of his pale freckled skin, and it's taking everything in Ron to not caress his skin, to not hold the side of his face in his hands and kiss him until he can't breathe. He doesn't think he's allowed, and he definitely knows he doesn't deserve it.

He wraps his arms around Carl's waist instead, hugs him close to his chest, and shoves his head in the junction between his shoulder and neck. Carl is stiff for a moment, before relaxing into him, wrapping his arms around him too, the smaller boy rubbing his head against the side of his. Ron is bent down a little awkwardly to hug him like this, but it feels nice, it feels safe in a way Ron can't get enough of. He thinks he always wants to be here, in Carl's arms.

"Thank you," Ron whispers harshly. "For being such a good friend." It feels like an admission of weakness, but he pushes through his dad's voice in his head, and just holds Carl tighter.

"You're a good friend too," Carl murmurs right into his ear, low and almost husky. Ron feels his entire body seize up. He's imagined hearing Carl's voice a hundred times before, imagined how deep or high it would be, his pitch, but somehow this is better than anything in his imagination. Carl feels tense in his arms, so Ron squeezes tighter, trying not to show how excited he is to hear him.

They pull back eventually, after what feels like hours in each other's arms, Ron's back pops when he straightens up and Carl giggles at it, making Ron laugh too. But they're so close, and Ron is almost a head taller than him, Carl's craning his neck up to look at him and they're just staring at each other. It feels hot in the room, as Ron's eyes trail all over Carl's face, the freckles across his face and his wispy eyelashes, his pink-bitten lips.

His eyes stop on his lips, he can't do anything but stare at his lips, and he's leaning in, and Carl is still just looking up at him, their faces are so close that he can practically feel him.

"Boys!" It's Rick, and the moment bursts between them, and they both stumble apart from each other, staring at each other with wide eyes and shaky hands.

"We gotta go soon! We wanna be back before dark!" Rick yells. Ron yells back that they're almost done, and opens the back room door, then leaves. He leaves Carl behind in there and takes a deep breath to steady himself. He feels unsteady, nervous, and jittery. He grabs the CDs and records they had picked out and shoved them in a basket he finds on the floor, he grabs another one and leaves it for Carl on the counter.

He doesn't know what he'll do when he sees Carl again, so he ducks behind the counter and looks for anything mildly interesting. He doesn't find much, stuff that was probably meant to be picked up later by people who never got the chance. He stays down there as he hears Carl rustling around.

Then Carl is leaning over the counter, looking down at him with an arched brow. Ron smiles shakily and hastily gets up, joining Carl on the other side, they're both holding baskets full of CDs and records and refuse to look at each other.

Carl turns to him abruptly, leaning up just a little, and presses his lips to Ron's cheek. Ron freezes, then Carl is running off, laughing as he goes. Ron runs after him quickly, and they both burst into the sunlight of the outside, laughing loudly. Ron doesn't even take a second to process what exactly happened, and he doesn't even care, he'll take it as it is, take whatever Carl will give him.

Rick is leaning against the car, smiling at the both of them, Carl sets his basket down to hug him when they get to the car, and Rick ruffles his hair and kisses the crown of his head absentmindedly. It's such a routine for them that he doesn't even think about it, it's muscle memory. If Carl is gone for more than an hour Rick is gonna hug him and then ruffle his hair. Ron can't think of the last time he hugged his mom, let alone his dad.

"Get good stuff?" Rick asks, he grabs Carl's basket and gets into the front seat as Carl nods enthusiastically. The two teens get into the back together as they did before, but this time they don't share earbuds, they just rest against the seats, staring at each other and the basket between them that makes Ron feel like he's a hundred miles away from Carl.

He wants to hold his hand, but Rick is right there, and he remembers how his own father had reacted, and clenches his fists so hard he thinks his nails might be drawing blood from his palms. He knows that Rick isn't a bad guy, he doesn't care about Aaron, or Tara, and Rosita. But it's always different when it's your own kid. His dad pretended to put up with Aaron too.

But some part of him can't help but worry. He doesn't want to lose what the Grimes family has given him. He doesn't want to lose the breakfasts and Rick teaching him how to throw a punch just in case, he doesn't want to lose painting with Judith on the porch or listening to Michonne tell stories. He doesn't want to lose whatever feeling he had that day he helped Rick build a tree house.

He realizes it's domesticity. He doesn't want to lose that. He doesn't want to lose this feeling of family the Grimes had given him. He hadn't had it for long, this happy family sort of dynamic, but he doesn't think he would know how to live without it. So he doesn't do anything, he doesn't kiss Carl or reach for his hand, in fact, he closes his eyes and pretends Carl isn't there on the way back.

But he can feel Carl's eyes on him, and he loves the feeling as much as he hates it. He can't act on whatever it is he feels for Carl out of his own fear of rejection from a family that isn't even his.

They don't talk much when they get back to Alexandria, but he and Carl eat dinner and Ron says his mom probably wants him home. It's a lie. She said he could stay the night if he wanted, and God did he want, but he can't have it. He needs a break before returning back to them. He spends the night trying to convince himself that what he has now is enough. That this friendship he has with Carl is enough, that he's happy not kissing him if it means he gets whatever love the Grimes want to give him.

He falls asleep knowing it'll never be enough, but that he'll take whatever he can get anyways.

Two weeks later the Grimes family and him eat waffles in the shapes of stars with melons and scrambled eggs this time. They all seem to be in a great mood despite the early hour, and even Judith isn't throwing food like she normally does.

Carl is practically vibrating in his seat excitedly. Ron has noticed that Carl doesn't really smile when he's happy about something, he can look wholly indifferent to something but still be very excited, you just have to know the signs, but now his excitement is practically bursting from him.

"What's got you all excited?" Ron asks, then shoves eggs down his throat.

"Rosita and Tara got engaged," Rick explains, and Ron feels his heart stop for a moment. Rick sounds happy too, he looks happy, with a small smile on his rough features. Ron can't help but smile too, he doesn't know them well, but he knows that they're both pretty funny, and Carl likes them both, so Ron thinks they're pretty cool. But some part of him still worries, still aches.

"And that's... okay with you all?" Ron asks nervously, staring down at his half-of-a-star waffle. Rick had found a waffle maker in the shape of a star a few days ago and Judith had already been on a bit of star kick, and they had eaten star waffles for the last three days. Even her shirt had stars all over it.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" Rick asks carefully. Like he's worried Ron won't approve.

"Some people here won't like it," Ron mumbles.

"They seem okay with Aaron?" It comes out more as a question than a statement, because Rick realized it probably isn't entirely true.

"People talk. My dad and his friends always said shit about Aaron behind his back. Said shit about me too. Tara and Rosita shouldn't have to deal with that." He hears Carl's breath hitch.

"Tara and Rosita are tough women, they'll ignore shit anybody says," Rick assures him.  It's quiet again for a few seconds, an anxious almost uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry about what your dad and his friends said about you. He shouldn't have done that." Rick says softly.

"It's true," Ron says simply. Because it is. He thinks everyone in Alexandria probably knows he's gay by now.

"Doesn't matter. A father's job is to love his kids unconditionally." He looks at Carl, who blushes and hides his face, mouthing 'sappy' at his dad before he does, and Rick just smiles. It's all so normal it makes his heart ache.

"Yeah. My dad was pretty bad at his job." Ron laughs uncomfortably.

"You're dad’s a piece of shit," Carl says. It takes Ron a second to realize it was actually coming from Carl's mouth, that he actually said it.

"Carl. Language. Judith is right there." Rick scolds gently, but he sounds like he doesn't care. Michonne laughs at him.

"You just said shit, Rick." Michonne points out. They bicker back and forth but Ron isn't paying them any mind, just looking at Carl, who smiles crookedly in a way that can only say he understands what effect his talking has on Ron.

"Who are those guys?" Carl asks quietly.

"What?" Ron asks stupidly, still too distracted by the fact that he can hear Carl. He hadn't actually used his voice since that day in the record store.

"Those guys who talked shit about Aaron?" Rick doesn't scold him for his language.

"Uh... Marcus, Spencer, Leo, and Jackson. They're all— were all friends with my dad." Carl hums thoughtfully at this.

"I'll let Tara and Rosita know. They wanted a small ceremony but just to be safe." Michonne tells him, and Ron nods.

"You're coming," Carl says suddenly, and he's staring right at him, gaze intense. "To the wedding, with me." He explains after a moment.

Ron just nods. "Sounds like fun."

Carl beams, and this feels like enough forever.

Chapter Text

Carl didn't expect Ron to actually say yes to the wedding, in fact, he didn't even really mean to ask him to go with him, it just all spilled out in a rare moment of word vomit that he feels like he never experiences. Maybe when he was a kid, when he would talk his dad's ear off about the Percy Jackson series until he fell asleep, but not recently. He rarely even talks at all these days, at least not outside of the new comfortable familiarity of his new house.

Ron should scare him, the way he's affecting him, and the way Carl is changing because of him, it should all scare Carl a lot, but it doesn't. Carl has been content his whole life to not talk to anyone but his dad, which turned into his dad and Judith, and then his dad and Judith and Michonne, and now Ron. Ron who is making Carl feel things he's never felt before, at all.

Ron who makes him want to talk, Ron who makes him feel comfortable enough to do so, he likes talking to Ron through his tablet or just exaggerating his face while he listens to Ron talking, he's done it with everyone and he's used to it, but some part of him wants to be able to actually speak to him. He thinks he could talk to Ron for the rest of his life, and that scares him more than Ron does. His feelings for the boy scare him more than Ron does.

Ron leaves after breakfast that morning and Carl stares down at his quarter-of-a-star pancake. His dad had found a star pancake maker on a run and Judith had become obsessed with the thing, Carl has to admit he would also rather have all his waffles be star-shaped. Carl wonders if Ron just said yes to be nice, that maybe he just won't show up or something, but it didn't feel like that. Carl is bad at understanding other people's intentions though, which is why he lets his dad lead on picking who's trustworthy enough to bring in.

"So... you asked Ron to the wedding?" Dad asked from his own seat. He's got Judith in his lap now despite the fact she can eat well enough on her own, but Judith likes eating on his lap, and dad says he was the same when he was a kid, always clinging to him. Dad says stuff like that a lot, that Judith is a lot like Carl was when he was a kid. Carl thinks he's trying to imply he thinks Jude is autistic, which might make a lot of sense, but also scares Carl a little bit, because what if his dad decides that having another child with autism is just too much for him? It's a fear unfounded he knows, something his dad would never do, but that doesn't make his irrational worries any better.

"Yeah. He's my friend." Carl is most times fully verbal when he's just with his dad and Michonne. He's comfortable with them, and he trusts them with his life, and it makes his voice spill out. Sometimes he still has bad days, where he doesn't say anything, where his skin feels like it's on fire and his dad tries to get him to spend the day in his room instead of out there helping people, where he tells him that now they can afford to relax, and that Carl should let himself relax so the bad days stop coming so often. He listens sometimes, curling up in bed and listening to music to drown out all the other things he's feeling.

"He's a good kid, I actually like him now," Dad jokes, he knows his dad didn't like Ron when they first met, something about him seeing arrogant, and Carl didn't disagree. It wasn't so much arrogance as it was immaturity and ignorance. He had never been outside these walls, he doesn't know what it was like out there, the people and the undead. It made Carl loathe him for a while, for getting the life Carl thought he deserved, for being stupid when it came to walkers, it was hard in beginning to understand that Ron didn't choose to stay here, and sometimes it seemed like Ron would rather be out there than in these walls.

"He is, are you guys gonna go on another music run soon?" Michonne asks, she and his dad share a look over the table, they've been doing that a lot lately, and Carl doesn't know what it means. Their meaningful looks could mean a lot of things, but he feels like they're directed at him.

"No, we have enough to last us a while," Carl mumbled, he stabbed at his waffle, suddenly feeling like he was being made fun of. He doesn't know why, he knows they wouldn't, at least not without him finding it funny too, but it feels like that. He hates the way he can never shake those feelings, feeling like everyone is secretly laughing at them behind his back.

"Carl— you know that if you and Ron—" Carl stands up quickly at his dad's words, knocking his chair over, and Judith giggles in delight. He's suddenly afraid of the conversation going forward for a reason he can't quite place.

"I'm gonna go to the garden. I want.... uhm... peas." Then he scampers off, grabbing his bag and headphones by the door on his way out and practically running into the street. He puts his headphones on just to drown out the general sounds the world makes, and actually does go get peas.

He doesn't like lying to his dad, and he likes peas, so he might as well. Enid is there when he gets there, she's got corn in a basket on her side as she shucks the heads from the tall stalks. If Carl was a normal kid he would ask her if she needed any help, then she would smile at him and say yes, and they would shuck corn together while sharing romantic looks and flirty words, but Carl isn't a normal kid, and his throat seems to close at the mere idea of speaking and his whole body feels cold at the idea of flirting with Enid.

Enid is looking at him, he realizes, trying to meet his eyes, and averts his gaze to the ground. His dad always tells him not to force himself to do stuff he doesn't want to just for the comfort of others, and that he matters more than other people's idea of normal.

So he follows the path he always takes to where the peas are planted and pulls a few from the stem, he could've gone to storage but he likes them better fresh, he only grabs a handful and leaves the rest for the harvesting Enid is doing. They have more than enough peas to go around, but Carl thinks he likes them more that everyone else.

"You know you're not supposed to harvest them for yourself, right?" Enid asks. She sounds like she's mad at him, but Carl thinks everyone is angry at him all the time, so he doesn't know if he's right or not, but he turns around to face her and his eyes flash across her face, trying to find the details he knows that show someone is angry. She doesn't look angry.

Carl should say something, he has to say something, to explain why he would take from the harvest beforehand. How does he explain that he lied to his family about getting peas because he wanted to avoid talking about his best friend who he may have a crush on, and how does he explain that he couldn't go to the storage room because he doesn't like to ask people for anything and half the time she doesn't even know what he's trying to say.

So instead of anything he whips his hand out, the peas still in his hand, and drops them into Enid's basket of corn, then runs off.

"Carl! Wait! Carl!" But he keeps speeding walking past Daryl, who gives him a confused look, and past random Alexandrians and it feels like they're all staring at him like he's a freak and suddenly his skin feels tight and his clothes feel too light and too heavy and his skin is hot and prickly and he thinks he might pass out.

He swings open the front door to see his dad and Michonne talking by the sink, but even their voices sound loud even with his headphones on. His ears feel almost like they're ringing and the lights are too bright for anyone to properly see right? His eyes ache. His ears hurt and his entire body feels stiff.

He squeezes his eyes shut and runs upstairs, the own pounding of his feet hurting his ears as he pushes against them roughly. He slams his door behind him and immediately regrets it, then undresses down to his boxers and t-shirt and flops into his bed, but even the blankets feel scratchy on his skin, everything is not right and now there are hot tears leaking from his eyes as he scrambles off his bed, trying to figure out what to do now. He's so tired suddenly.

He digs around in his closet for anything, another blanket. Then he realizes what's wrong. His quilt isn't here. Judith spilled juice on it last night and Carl had to resist the urge not to cry over a blanket because he's a teenager, and they had to put it in the wash and he went to bed without it, but he knows if he had it back right now everything would feel better.

There's a soft knock at his door, then it's peeling open quietly, and his dad is standing there, so very still and very quiet, holding out his bunched-up quilt and Carl whimpers, grabbing it from him and wrapping it around him quickly, his dad smiles softly. He doesn't feel like touching his dad, so he smiled up at him, hoping it gets his point of thankfulness across, and it seems to work, because his dad gives him a thumbs up and closes the door behind him.

Carl flops onto his bed, now comfortable and satiated with his quilt, he curls up into a small ball, feeling exhausted. He always feels tired after a meltdown, which he didn't even realize was happening until it was too late to stop it. That's mostly how it happens, and afterward, he would always just need to sleep it off until he woke up and felt better. When he was a kid he would need his dad to be there until he fell asleep or he couldn't sleep at all. When everything first happened he didn't sleep until he physically couldn't stay awake anymore, he couldn't sleep without his dad.

Shane tried to help, but he always seemed more annoyed with Carl than actively trying to help, he just wanted him to stop being a bother, he didn't care that Carl was hurting. After his dad came back was better, they shared a tent and Carl could sleep peacefully again, his under-eye bags disappeared after a week of good nights' rest. He doesn't think he's slept a night since he saw his dad again without him. He's older now, and just saying goodnight to his dad is enough for him to be able to sleep comfortably again.

He just saw his dad, so he burrows into his covers and squeezes his eyes shut until his exhaustion overtakes him.

When he wakes up there's a glass of lemonade on his nightstand that definitely wasn't there before, and also a boy who wasn't there before, Ron is sitting on his floor, reading one of his Batman comics with his leg propped up. He's in what he's always wearing, jeans and long sleeve shirt and a flannel, but something about his outfit, or maybe just him, makes Carl's heart beat faster.

Carl makes a noise in his throat to get his attention, and Ron's eyes flick up to him and he drops the comic. He looks tense, maybe awkward.

"You feel any better?" Ron whispers.

Carl nods, and Ron nods too, then glances around his room awkwardly, like maybe he doesn't want to be here. Carl wishes that didn't hurt. Carl doesn't know what to say to him, so he grabs his tablet from his nightstand and types.

"What are you doing here?" The robotic voice asks. Ron looks surprised.

"Oh, we were supposed to hang out after my guard shift?" He's still awkward, and it's weird to see him that way, fidgeting and nervous.

"You're dad said you had a rough morning and were sleeping it off when I came over, but he said I could stay if I promised to watch Judith." Ron wiggles the baby monitor that Carl didn't realize he was holding, and nods in understanding.

"Sorry, rough morning." His tablet says.

"Don't worry, we all have rough days." Ron smiles, glances at the baby monitor like its second nature, then shows it to Carl.

"That kid is crazy even in her sleep" He jokes, and he's definitely right, Judith is half off of her bed with her head on the ground, tangled in a bunch of blankets, and Carl giggles softly. Somewhere, in baby books that have been lost to time and emergency moves, there's a photo of him in that exact same position. Ron sets the baby monitor on his nightstand so Carl can watch, and leans back against the wall.

"Do you know why Enid wants to say sorry to you?" At Carl's look of pure panic, Ron suddenly looks angry.

"Did she say something to you? 'Cause if she did—"

"She didn't." Carl's tablet says. He types hastily on it and has to go back to correct all his misspelled words.

"It's no big deal, just a misunderstanding, do you wanna play video games or read?" He doesn't want to think about Enid, or how he's supposed to feel about girls like Enid. He wants to not think about anything for a while, and Ron seems to get that, so he nods, says they'll play video games, and turns on his PS2.

Days later and things don't change. Carl avoids Enid like the plague and avoids talking about Ron to his dad and Michonne like he'll die if he utters his name. If they notice something is wrong, they don't say anything, but something is wrong, something is so very wrong with Carl.

Carl doesn't think he could ever like Enid, or any other girl like Enid. He doesn't think it's something he's capable of. He remembers those cheesy movies where a boy and girl fall in love, where they wax poetic about how the other person is their entire world and they love them so deeply, but Carl's never felt that. He's never wanted to kiss a girl or tell her how beautiful she looks. He hasn't met many girls his age because of the apocalypse, and the one he has met tried to kiss him and he ran away like a scared child.

He doesn't think he could kiss Enid, it wouldn't be like all those movie kisses where they collide in the rain and kiss like it's the last thing they'll ever do, or those soft and sweet ones on park benches or drunk mistakes. He thinks if he kissed Enid he would squeeze his eyes shut and just wait for it to be over. He feels bad thinking about her like that, because he does like her, he really does. She's funny and sarcastic and has a general disdain for the world that he understands. He likes the balloons she sometimes carries around and likes how she's wholly uninterested in video games but if forced to play she could kick their asses.

But he doesn't want to kiss her, he doesn't want to hug her and he doesn't think he could even begin to think about talking to her. His throat closes painfully like it doesn't with most other people, as it does for all the Alexandrians, and even most of his family. But it doesn't close for Ron. When Carl is with Ron he wants to scream from the rooftops just because he feels like he can, he wants to talk Ron's ear off for hours like Ron has done with him so many times, he wants to share secrets and trade stories, and tell him about all his favorite things.

He thinks he likes Ron more than he should. No, he knows that he does. But the feelings trip him up and make him feel weird for feeling them. He stares at Ron's lips because he doesn't like making eye contact with people most times, but sometimes he'll stare at them just because he wants to memorize the shape of them. Carl wants to drag his fingers across the moles on Ron's face and his shoulders like their constellations in the night sky that they watch so often, neither of them knows a thing about stars, so they make up their own stories.

He probably shouldn't like Ron his much, he probably shouldn't wonder what his lips taste like, or how his hair would feel between his fingers, but it's all he can think about anymore, whenever he see him, this sick longing in his chest for something Carl doesn't know if he's allowed to have. He knows Ron is gay, but that doesn't mean Ron likes him. Carl's never had a friend who treats him like Ron does, but Carl had never had many friends in the first place.

Maybe the way Ron looks at him is normal, maybe the way Ron counts his freckles while they listen to music in his bed is normal, and maybe the way his eyes seem to get brighter when Carl giggles is normal for friends. Maybe the way he bear hugs him and shoves his head in the junction between his shoulder and neck is just what friends do. But he never saw Shane do this type of stuff with his dad, he never saw them wake up after falling asleep together so tangled up they didn't know where they began and the other ended.

He knows that feeling love is normal. He knows that loving people romantically is normal, but the thought scares him, the thought of it being a boy that he loves scares him a little bit more. Because, yes, his dad doesn't care about Tara and Rosita or Aaron and Eric, but it's different when it's your own kid. Carl felt that all too well with his mom. His dad doesn't care that Ron is gay either, he didn't tell Carl to stay away from him or that they couldn't be friends anymore, and maybe that means he has a chance to at least figure himself out.

He goes to Michonne, because he has no one else to go to, and she's been put on bed rest until tomorrow because she twisted her ankle and she hates it but his dad finds it funny. He knows that maybe there are other people he could go to, like Aaron and Eric, but he barely knows them, he has never actually spoken to any of them, and the idea makes him feel queasy.

He sits down next to her on the couch where her ankle is propped up on the coffee table and waits for a few minutes in silence, they both say nothing, but Carl can feel her eyes on him. He realizes he doesn't know where exactly to start.

"You need something, kid?" Michonne asks. She's been on the couch all day watching movies and complaining to anyone who comes in that she should be out there, and that her twisted ankle is fine, but all of them say she has to stay under Rick's orders. Carl hums at her words carefully and stares daggers at the rug beneath his feet.

"I think I'm gay," Carl says simply, and he hears Michonne choke on air and then cough loudly.

"Uhh... okay? Thank you for telling me." Michonne says nicely. Carl expected more, he doesn't know why.

"You don't care?" He doesn't understand.

"Of course, I care— but, you're Carl. You'll always be just Carl. Regardless of what gender you're into, kid, you know?" Michonne hastily explains. "I love you, and nothing will ever change that. You're my best friend, Carl."

"You're my best friend too." He says automatically, it's a reflex, like when his dad says he loves him when they both head upstairs for bed. "I thought... no— I knew you wouldn't be mad, but some part of me... expected you to be," Carl explains.

"I would never be mad. Loving people is a beautiful thing, regardless of its a man and woman, two women or two men." Michonne says softly.

"Even if it's me?" He asks shakily.

"What do you mean?"

"It's always different when it's their kids," he regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. Michonne is not his mom, she doesn't think of him as her child, she thinks of him as a friend, as a kid that she grew to love because she loves his dad.

Michonne blanches, letting out a small gasp at his words. He doesn't know what she's thinking, and he refuses to even look at her face right now, his eyes burn hot with tears, she wasn't supposed to know he thought of her as a mom. He wasn't ever supposed to say it out loud, how cruel was he to say that to her when he already had a mom?

"Sometimes it is different when it's your child, but not for me. You're the same Carl you were yesterday, and the same Carl you'll be tomorrow." Carl sobs, and Michonne leans over to wrap an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into her. He ends up laying on the couch, his head in her lap as he cries softly.

"I'm sorry, for saying you're my parent." He whispers into the air.

"Hey, no. Don't apologize, if you think of me as your mom, then I am. I— if we're being honest I think you of as my son sometimes," she admits to him, and Carl feels his heart thump wildly in his chest.

"Really?" He questions.

"Of course, you're my kid, and I'll love you like you're my kid for the rest of our lives."

"And I'll, I'll love you like my mom for the rest of mine," Carl promises. It feels final and lasting. It doesn't feel like he's betraying Lori, but moving on, not putting his mom in the past but growing up, and finding family in this world like she would've wanted for him. Lori will always be his mom, but now, so will Michonne.

"Will my dad care?" He asks softly.

"About you being gay or about you thinking of me as your mom?"

"Both."

"I think he'll have to fight back tears when you tell him both, but in a good way, you know? Happy tears." She explains.

"I'll hit him with them at both to make him cry," Carl jokes, and Michonne snorts and the tense energy is gone, replaced by something else, something new, something comforting. It feels like home, here with Michonne, he's perfectly content like when he's alone in his bedroom or playing blocks with Judith on her floor or picking berries with his dad, or making up constellations with Ron in the dark.

He doesn't know when he began to lump Ron in with his family. When things he only experienced with his family also became things he did with Ron. When all the love he felt for his family spilled out on to Ron, when he realized that he would kill anybody for Ron as he would for his own family. It should scare him, but his feelings for Ron don't really scare him anymore, they comfort him, knowing he could love someone this much.

"Are you and my dad ever gonna get married?" Carl asks. His voice sounds monotone even to himself, even though he barely notices that most times, and Michonne freezes under his head. Her lithe fingers stop in his hair and she sucks in a breath.

"Do you want us to?" She questions, and he does have to think about it. She already lives here, he already has to knock on their closed door in the morning when Judith doesn't want him but one of them, he already watches them be sappy in the kitchen in the mornings. He doesn't mind, he likes that his dad is happy, and happy with someone Carl likes too, someone like Michonne.

"I don't care either way. Nothing will really change will it?" He asks even though he knows he's right. A wedding wouldn't change what Rick and Michonne have, it would be the same, and it wouldn't even be a legal marriage, so what really is the point of getting married at all? Maybe if it was something they both wanted to do, have a party and live like real people do, but Carl thinks his dad is satisfied with what they have, he's happy.

"No, a wedding won't change anything between me and your dad," she murmurs, and he nods in understanding. It never really hit him before, that this is it. His dad has found someone he really loves, maybe more than he ever loved Carl's mom, he found someone he adores who adores him and his kids, who are already calling her mom. They're living peacefully and almost normally now, this is the closest they'll ever get back to the real world, and Carl loves it.

On the road to Terminus, he never allowed himself to dream of normalcy again, even on the way to Washington DC and then anywhere where they could get a good night's rest, he never let himself hope for more. He never let himself dream of having his own real room again, of getting to live like a normal kid, of Judith growing up in a world like he did.

But now it's real, now he has a real house again that's slowly being filled with mementos, that isn't just a place they're staying in a for a few nights but a place that they can call home. They have a shoe rack at the door and pictures on the mantles, Judith's toys are pretty much in every room in the house despite how much they clean up, they eat breakfast in the morning and watch movies together, they're a real family.

This is as good as it's ever gonna get, something Carl never let himself dream he would have after Hershel's farm. Now he lets himself dream that one day Ron will be there with him, that Ron will slide into his life more than he already has, that maybe one day they'll walk down the aisle together and get married, that they'll get their own house like real people do, that they could be real people, even in this world.

"Do you think— do you think Ron, for instance, could ever like someone like me?" Carl whispers into the room. Michonne keeps dragging her fingers through his hair, through all his tangles. His hair is starting to curl at his neck like his dad's, and he doesn't quite know how he's supposed to fix that.

"Someone like you?" Michonne asks.

"Someone autistic." Carl deadpans, and Michonne winces.

"Carl... I think he already does." Michonne says softly.

And that's... not exactly what he was expecting to hear. He knows that's what he wanted to hear, that Ron could actually love him, that they could date, share kisses in the dark over dinner, and cuddle at night without pretending that they didn't mean to curl around the other person in their sleep. But he didn't expect it, he didn't think it could ever be true.

"Really?" His voice sounds small and scared.

"Yeah, It's kinda obvious." She laughs a little.

"Not to me." Carl was never good at telling what people are feeling, he wasn't even good at figuring out what he himself was feeling, he couldn't tell when he was hungry most times so he just ate at the right hours. He could never tell if he was angry or actually just sad, maybe a mix of both most of the time.

"Sorry." Michonne says hastily, "But I really do think he likes you, you don't notice but you can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he immediately finds you when you enter the room, the way he's always smiling at you and touching you." Carl blushes at her words.

"I thought that's what friends do." He admonishes.

"You Grimes boys are hopeless when it comes to romance," Michonne exclaims, and Carl giggles at her.

"Dad was always hopeless, he hasn't noticed Jesse has been flirting with him for months." Michonne snorts.

"Of course, he doesn't, he's an idiot. Is she still doing that?" She asks.

"A little. I don't think she knows you two are together." Michonne hums thoughtfully above him.

"Well Carl, you gotta date her son so she stops flirting with your dad," and Carl full-on laughs then, loud breathless laughter as Michonne begins to laugh too, and they're both laughing when Rick comes inside for his lunch break, staring at them like they're both insane, and they just keep laughing.

The wedding comes faster than Carl thought it would. He had never been to a wedding before the world ended, but he had seen plenty of movies of stressed-out women planning their weddings and it always took months to plan, but he supposes there's not much you can do in the apocalypse. They don't have to book a venue (they're having the reception at their own house and the actual wedding ceremony in the newly built barn before they actually move the animals in), and they don't have to hire caterers because every household was asked to bring a dish to the wedding.

He knows Rosita is wearing a dress, because Michonne and Maggie had to practically drag her out of Alexandria to go pick one out on a run. They came back with one that no one was allowed to see, and according to Tara, she hasn't even seen it. Tara's wearing a suit that Carl has seen, and only because Tara sat him down two weeks before the wedding and asked him to be his best man and ring bearer. He tried to explain with vague hand gestures and exaggerated facial features that he was not the right person for the job, but Tara just laughed and patted him on the shoulder, saying he was the only man for the job.

His dad got them both jeans that didn't have holes or stains on them and fancy dress shirts that Carl didn't mind the feel of. The day of the wedding was the first time he saw what Michonne was wearing, a pretty orange sundress, and Judith was in a yellow sundress too. She had been obsessed with the color yellow after Carl gave her a duck plushie, which she dragged around everywhere with her, including to the wedding.

The barn is beautiful when they get there, there are mismatched chairs everywhere for all the people they actually invited. They said it would be a small thing, but most of the community was invited, because it's kinda hard to keep a wedding a secret in a town like Alexandria. There was food everywhere and people mingling, and Carl would normally hate it, but he was allowed to bring his headphones and wear them before the ceremony started.

He carried Judith to the snack table and they both ate lemon bars, while Carl attempted to keep Judith from making a mess all over her dress. Noah and Beth were sitting close together on a log bench feeding each other chocolates and Carl had to look away because he felt like he was invading on something private. He bumped right into someone when he turned, and when he looked up, he saw it was Ron.

He looked, nice. His hair was fluffy and brushed back, and Carl wanted to run his fingers through the dirty blonde strands. He was wearing jeans too, clean ones that looked fresh from the wash, and a green sweater, he looked almost out of place to Carl, surrounded by all these people, he was used to it just being the two of them all alone. But the twinkling lights they hung up in the barn make him glow, and it's all Carl can do to not kiss him right now.

"Raaaa" Judith exclaims from his arms, and Carl realizes he's probably been staring at Ron for too long, and he blushes, averting his eyes to Judith so he can pretend he wasn't just staring at Ron.

"Yeah that's me kid, Raaaaa" Ron leans down to mess with Judith, who's giggling at him now. Ron was always good with Judith after the initial awkward stage, Ron had never been around a baby since his brother was one, so it was no doubt very new to him, but they got along nicely. Carl thinks that Judith brings out some childish side in Ron that he had long since tried to bury.

"She'll get your name right eventually," Carl murmured in what he hoped sounded light and happy. Ron was smiling at him, so he thinks he did a good job.

"She still calls you Cah," Ron points out. If he's surprised that Carl is actually talking to him, he doesn't show it on his face. Carl nods, feeling self-conscious around all these people he doesn't recognize, so he leans closer to Ron, so close their faces are practically touching, and his lips are so close to his ear he could kiss it.

"You're sitting up front, with me" and my family goes unsaid, but he doesn't have to say it. Ron knows. Carl scurries away and passes Judith off to Glenn and Maggie, who are always happy to have to have a baby to practice parenting with. Especially since he knows Maggie is expecting a baby. Carl knows a lot of things that nobody else does, he's quiet on his feet and always ends up accidentally spying on people. He's as nosy as his dad to a fault though. Glenn is also a blabbermouth who was itching to tell somebody and went to the kid who he thought wouldn't tell a soul, and Carl hasn't.

He's happy for them, really, and some part of him wonders if maybe he'll get his own little sibling too.

When the ceremony starts Judith leads the way as the flower girl, she had just learned to walk without falling most times a few weeks ago, but she still wobbled her way to her Auntie Tara on the red carpet they had set up, tossing flowers petals and giggling. Then Rosita came down the aisle, with Glenn holding her arm as she goes down. Carl knows that's normally a position held by fathers, and that Rosita would never think of Glenn as a dad, but it's cute to watch them whisper stuff on the way down as Tara cries looking at Rosita for the first time.

Carl lets himself hope that maybe one day his dad will walk him down the aisle, that Ron will be crying looking at him like Tara is, that maybe Judith will be the flower girl then too, except she can actually walk without wobbling now. Carl dreams of a future like this for himself, it feels so far away, but at the same time, so close.

After they've both exchanged vows that have his dad literally crying in the seat beside him, Carl walks the rings to them. They both went on multiple runs to pick them out for each other secretly, and Tara had proposed first even if Rosita was also thinking about it.

Gabriel is their minister obviously, who declares them wife and wife and smiles brightly when they kiss passionately right in front of him. And everybody is cheering and Carl is too, because he's so happy for them both and happy that they even got this far, that they finally have peace. They'll be no more wondering where their next meal will come from, no more huddling around a small fire sleeping on trees and their backpacks on the forest floor, it'll be this from now on.

It'll be all these happy moments, marriages and babies, and weddings and soft mornings with his family and friends. There are still threats out there, and they'll always have to face them, but they know they'll always have this to come home to.

Judith begins to cry silently when the cheers and talking gets too loud, so Carl takes off his own headphones and secures them to her much smaller head, holding them in place over her ears, he plays the music a little quieter than he would normally, but she stops crying pretty quickly, and Carl sees that their dad is watching them, that he's analyzing them both, and has been analyzing Judith since the start, and when he meets his eyes they both come to a common understanding, they both know she's probably autistic, like they both know she's probably Shane's, and it'll become one of those unspoken things for a while, until Judith inevitably asks why she's not like the other kids, but for now, it's not a big deal, because she's the same Judith she was yesterday, and the same Judith she'll be tomorrow.

The barn is almost like the one at Hershel's farm, the one Carl had tossed a lighter into and lit on fire after shooting Shane in the head. It feels so far away now, like a different life, but he knows it's not, he may not be the same kid he was when he held a gun to his father, but that kid is him. He's sitting on the edge of one of the barn's huge windows above the party. They're storing grain and rice and other things up here for the animals, but Carl is watching over Alexandria while everybody parties beneath him.

They had worried more walkers would come with all the noise they would no doubt make, so they had people stationed on the towers in case things went south, and as much as they liked to pretend that they were all normal people now, all of them knew about the guns under all the tables just in case something went horribly wrong. Nothing had yet, and Carl was grateful for that, but he couldn't help but worry.

Alexandria looked beautiful at night, a real town. The streets were lined with lights that would turn off when everyone safely made their way home, and houses were lit up by people who didn't come. It was beautiful to see something so peaceful, so average that he had taken for granted for years, something he cherishes now.

"Hey, man." It's Ron, and he's sliding down next to Carl in their little window nook, his legs falling over the side of the barn, he places a plate full of red velvet cookies between them, and Carl stares at them in bewilderment.

"I know they're your favorites," Ron explains, and when Carl looks at him he sees his entire face is red.

"So you took the whole damn plate?" Carl jokes, and Ron laughs a little.

"Yeah, figured you liked 'em more than anybody else." Carl took one gratefully, and devoured it in two bites.

"Are they really that good?" Ron asks, and Carl nodded, then they're both eating Carol's red velvet cookies together, just watching the stars like they normally do.

"I cried during the ceremony," Ron murmurs carefully, like he's testing the waters.

"Why?" Carl asks, concerned.

"It's just... Since I was a kid I knew I was gay, and I also knew I would never get to experience that, a normal wedding, not with family anyway. It was never an option." Ron explains sadly, he wrings his hands together in his lap awkwardly, then shoves another red velvet cookie in his mouth.

"Well. Now you can. The world doesn't care anymore. You can marry whoever you want, whenever you want." Carl explains.

"I think I'm too young for that."

"Well, you don't have to worry about dying tomorrow, we're safe here. You can... grow up, find out who you are and who you love, and then get married." Carl feels like maybe he's not just telling Ron that, that maybe he's telling himself that too.

Carl spent so long not thinking he would live to see the next day, not knowing if tomorrow would bring his demise or not. It made him grow up so quickly, he's only 15 but he feels like he's been a grown-up since he was 11, and he doesn't know how to get back those years he lost, or even if he can, but he knows in the peace of Alexandria that he finally has a chance, that he can finally live like kids did, like his dad so desperately wanted him too. He knows that he and Ron are not the same, Carl's childhood got taken by the apocalypse, but Ron's got taken by his father, and they're both learning how to exist in this new world, how to exist with each other and everyone else here.

They're both trying to find a way to be those kids they never got a chance to be, and Carl thinks that maybe they can learn to do it together. And what better way to be a kid than to do something stupid?

"Ron," Carl says, and when he turns he sees how close Ron is to him, how close they both are to each other, he doesn't know when either of them moved, when the plate of red velvet cookies was pushed behind them, when their thighs pressed together and their bony shoulders knocked together. But now their noses are touching and he can feel Ron's breath on his face and he smells like red velvet and cheap cologne. Carl laughs softly.

"Yeah, Carl?"

"Can I kiss you?" Carl whispers, he practically says it into Ron's mouth, and his breath hitches, then Ron nods, his forehead bumping into Carl's as they both giggle quietly. So Carl just has to lean a little bit forwards, tilt his head to the side so their noses don't mash together, and he's pressing their lips together, neither of them quite knows what exactly they're doing, their lips are just pressed together, but it's nice all the same.

Then they pull back in a fit of giggles and Ron is blushing down to his chest and Carl is blushing because he looked at his chest. Ron places his hand on Carl's jaw, his fingers splayed out across his cheek and neck and he tilts Carl's head up a little, and he forgets how to breathe for a moment when Ron connects their lips again, because they're actually kissing this time, their lips moving together in tandem as they try to figure each other out, as they try to figure out what they both like.

Carl doesn't know where to place his hands, but he feels rocky and almost unstable as Ron kisses him, so he reaches a hand out and grips Ron's sweater in his fist, accidentally pulling Ron closer to him, and their lips disconnect and Ron kisses his cheek and his other hand goes to Carl's waist, pulling him closer until Carl is awkwardly half in Ron lap, then they're both just staring at each other, breathing heavy into each others face.

Carl's other hand goes to Ron's hair, finally getting a feeling for the fluffy strands between his fingers, and Carl is the one this time to reconnect their lips, he can't get enough of the taste of him, he tastes like red velvet and a little bit like lemon, and Carl wonders if Ron can taste him too, is he's as hot as he is, if he's as nervous as he is, and Ron is pulling back from his lips with a small smile on his face.

"Calm down Carl, you're doing great." And Carl blushes because how did Ron just know what he was thinking, but he doesn't have time to be embarrassed when Ron kisses his neck and Carl full-on squeaks, Ron laughs into his neck and continues peppering kisses all over it.

Carl doesn't know how long they stay there, half in each other's laps and their faces seemingly permanently red and lips full from kissing each other until they had to pull back for air, he doesn't know how many times they stop to eat cookies and talk about anything and everything, but he does know that he wakes up to the sun streaming into his eyes, and he's lying with his head on Ron's chest on the hard wooden floor, an empty plate of cookies by his head and Ron snoozing away, his own head on a bag of rice he must've turned into a makeshift pillow sometime in the night.

Then he notices something on the plate, a Polaroid, of the two boys asleep on the floor in the position they're in now, but in the dark with the flash on, and Carl thinks vaguely of Glenn and his dad and their affinity for pictures, and it should worry him, that somebody knows he loves Ron, that his dad might know he loves Ron, but he doesn't care, and he digs his face into the side of Ron's neck, humming happily, and lets himself fall asleep to the rhythmic beat of Ron's heart under his hand.