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The sharp chemical smells of bleach and Windex filled Daryl nostrils. It was thick enough that scent alone stuck in his throat, he could feel it coating his tongue and his trachea, clinging to the insides of his lungs with every breath and making his head swim. It was Deanna’s house, the large one in prime position at the front of the community, the same one they’d all been paraded through for interviews when Aaron had first led them through those large, imposing gates. The whole place was too neat: scrubbed and disinfected and polished in a way nothing in Daryl’s life had ever been, and sure as hell didn’t belong in the world they were in now.

The perfect white couch had been pushed the far wall to make room for rows of foldout chairs to be set up, a long rug running down the middle, dividing the room into aisles. Eric had told him that these town meetings were usually held in greenspace behind the apartment building, but it had been raining for more than a day with no sign of letting up. If anything, the rain had settled in, growing stronger as the hours passed.

The smell of fresh rain was carried inside by the cold breeze that had Daryl’s bare arms out in goosebumps.  Crowds of people filed in, hanging their coats and umbrellas in the entryway. Daryl tucked himself out of the way at the back of the room, soaked to the bone and dripping so much there was a puddle of water forming around his mud-caked boots. Too-clean, too-dry people passed by him, talking in murmurs as they made their way to their seats.

At the front of the room, Rick was sat beside Michonne, dressed in their uniforms and facing the room. Deanna was standing at a podium they must have dragged out just to look officious. Daryl grit his teeth at the thought of all the pomp and circumstance. As if any of it mattered. All this set dressing just to show how good they thought they were. How much better they were.

“Hey,” Aaron said, looking out at the room at large before turning his gaze to Daryl. “Sorry we’re late.”

Eric came to a stop at Aaron’s other side, his hands in his jacket pockets, a couple drops of water dripping from his bangs. It made some small part of Daryl relax in relief at not being the only one who hadn’t somehow made it across the community in the torrential rain without getting even a little bit wet.

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement. It was a quiet noise. He didn’t want to attract any attention to himself. He’d had enough judgemental eyes on him since they’d walked out of the wilds and inside these walls.

“It hasn’t started yet,” Eric said, his voice low, as if just as wary of drawing attention as Daryl was. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, unfolding it and staring down at the text. Dary didn’t have to look at it to know what it said. He’d read it enough times already. Still, he couldn’t believe someone was anal enough to carefully print out enough fliers on crisp white paper and deliver them by hand to every address in Alexandria. Just for this stupid meeting.

“Community meeting regarding hygiene standards,” Aaron murmured, staring down at the paper. “What do you suppose that means?”

Eric didn’t answer and neither did Daryl. But Daryl knew that whatever it was, if it wasn’t about Daryl himself then it was about something to do with his group. None of them fit in there, as much as the others were trying. Daryl wasn’t even willing to try. It was only a matter of time before they’d be kicked to the curb, or the walls would fall, and then they’d be out in the wilds again anyway. Shit like this didn’t last.

The seats were filling up, but Daryl didn’t move, and neither did Aaron or Eric, the three of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder at the back of the room. When no new people were making their way in out of the rain, Deanna smiled, plastic and polished for diplomacy. She clapped her hands once in the air, bringing the murmuring crowd to a sudden silence.

“Thank you, everyone,” she said, her voice carrying over the crowd with a measured, practiced ease. “I know you’ve been asked to come out here in this terrible weather, but community is the most important thing we have, the one thing it will take to restore humanity. That’s why we’re here today: to speak openly, to listen to one another, and the solve problems as they arise. We’ve had a few concerns that have been brought to my attention over the last few days, and I’d like to address them now, before they become an ongoing problem.”

Daryl glanced at Rick whose own gaze was fixed on that hairdresser he’d been up his own ass over. And then he turned his head to look at Aaron and Eric, both of them staring straight ahead, eyes on Deanna. There was an open expression of placid interest on Aaron’s face, but Eric was standing with his arms crossed, his mouth set in a thin line, like he was expecting something, and it wasn’t good.

“Shelly?” Deanna said, stepping aside from the podium to make room for a late-middle-aged woman with perfectly arranged blonde hair and carefully applied make-up to take her place.

Eric made a small, aggravated sound, and Aaron reached out, placing a quelling hand on his elbow. Daryl had heard enough stories about Eric’s quiet feud with Shelly Neudemeyer that it already set him on edge, even though he hadn’t formally met the woman himself. At the front of the room, Shelly adjusted the lay of her cardigan and rolled her shoulders back as she stepped behind the podium.

“Now, we’re all very appreciative of the fresh meat that’s been coming in. Goodness knows it’s been a blessing. Of course, we’ve always been grateful for Aaron’s attempts at rabbit-hunting, but it was never enough to feed more than a household or two at a time.”

Daryl shot a quick look at Aaron, finding absolutely no outward change in his appearance. It was as if the words rolled over him with no effect, but he could see the muscle twitch in Eric’s jaw, the fire burning in his eyes, his lips parting as his mouth started to open.

“Babe. Don’t” Aaron said, his voice low but warning. It only seemed to make Eric’s simmering rage more palpable. Daryl could taste it in the air like the ozone outside.

“I’m sure we’ve all noticed the sudden influx of… carcasses being strung up on the front porch of one of the newly inhabited houses,” Shelly said. “I don’t want to name names, but it’s starting to get out of hand.”

A murmur of agreement rippled throughout the room and Daryl felt his entire body tense up.

“Just yesterday, I looked out my window and came face to face with a deer, strung up from the porch, dripping blood all over the wood.” She took a shuddering breath, her hand moving to her mouth as she blinked back the thought of tears. “This isn’t the first time we’ve seen some poor creature gutted and strung up in front of the house in recent weeks, but it was by far the largest. The organs… The blood…  The smell. It’s unhygienic, it encourages pests and it’s, well, it’s distasteful.”

“Distasteful?” Daryl found the word falling out his mouth unbidden. All eyes in the room whipped around to look at him. Daryl shifted uncomfortably, his skin crawling.

“I’m not trying to cause a fuss,” Shelly said, looking suddenly nervous, as if Daryl might do something dangerous, like he was an unpredictable wild creature they’d let in by mistake. “It’s just, there are children here. It’s not good for them to see such violence and gore.”

“They’re old enough to eat it, they’re old enough to know where it’s come from,” Daryl countered. “I been field dressin’ since before I was old enough to hold a crossbow my own self.”

Then that jackass Spencer rose to his feet, ostensibly addressing the room, but the words were to Daryl and Daryl alone. “I’m sure we’re all very sympathetic about your bad childhood. But that’s no reason to scar the children here, in our community. We’re trying to rebuild some semblance of normalcy here. Blood and guts, man? It’s not normal. And Shelly’s right: it’s not hygienic either. Are you trying to draw the rotters right to our doors?”

Daryl felt a shot of anger flaring deep inside his chest, but it was tempered by the flush of shame washing through him. It was obvious he didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong in a place like this Before and he sure as shit didn’t belong now. He’d never been normal a day in his life, and he wouldn’t know how to start now, if he even cared to. Aaron and Eric had been the only good things for him within those walls, and he’d always known that whatever he had with them was on a time limit. Nothing good ever lasted. These days, that was even more true. He felt it, then, Aaron’s hand coming to rest on Daryl’s shoulder, warm and firm and reassuring in a way physical touch so rarely was. Daryl let himself sink into it for a moment, his lids lowering until his vision was down to a thin line.

“Look, I think we need to take a little step back, here,” Aaron said, diplomatically. “You have concerns. They’ve been heard. Maybe we can find some solutions.”

“And that’s another thing,” Shelly barged on, making a short, graceful gesture towards the three of them where they stood at the back of the room. “We’re a very accepting community and we’ve done our best to make you feel welcome here. And we appreciate that you have kept your… alternative lifestyle mostly behind closed doors. But the three of you parading such a deviant relationship like this? It's degrading the community standards. What is it teaching the children?”

At the head of the room, Rick got to his feet, but Eric’s mouth was open far faster.

“Parading what, exactly?” Eric asked, and Daryl could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. “For such an accepting community, we’ve never been permitted anywhere but the fringes of this place. What do you think we’re doing? Trying to seduce every man we meet?“

“Your type –“ Shelly started, but the Rick was there, stepping into the fray.

“I get it,” Rick said. “It’s been a long, hard road for us out there. We’re all adjustin’ best we can. But we want this. We’re tryin’ to make this work, but we need you to work with us.”

Slowly, Spencer sat down again, and quiet murmuring in the room was brought to a silence once more.

“I think Shelly has raised some valid concerns. Some interpersonal conflict we don’t have time for right now, but some valid concerns as well. This isn’t how you’re used to doin’ things, and we’ve got find a way to adjust,” Rick said slowly, meeting the eyes of everyone in the crowd as he spoke. “And Daryl raised a good point too. If we want fresh meat, this has to be done. And it isn’t safe doin’ it out there, outside these walls. I’m hearing what Aaron’s said, and I agree: we can find a compromise here. We know you don’t want to see your meals bein’ butchered on the porch, so where can we move this so’s it can be handled efficiently and hygienically? Let’s talk this through. Find a concrete solution.”

Voices in the crowed raised, offering suggestions and commentary as the tension that had filled the room broke. Daryl slumped back against the wall, letting his shoulder press against Aaron’s, taking what small comfort he could get from the slight touch. The voices blurred into incomprehensible nonsense in Daryl’s ears and his breathing felt too short and too shallow.

“Daryl,” Aaron said, voice low as Daryl moved away. Hands reached out for him And Daryl wanted to lean into that touch. Wanted to lean into that feeling, even just the gentle graze of Aaron and Eric's fingertips on Daryl’s rain-soaked skin.

But he couldn't.

Walked out of the room. He walked out of the foyer. He walked out into the rain again, letting the torrential downpour wash over him as he trudged his way back down the streets. Back to his temporary home.

He heard the sound of footsteps behind him, hard and fast as they hit the ground, the splashing of rainwater with every hurried step.

“Daryl, wait,” Aaron’s voice pleaded. The tone made Daryl’s chest clench painfully and he didn't stop, but he slowed, Allowing Aaron and Eric to catch up with him, to match pace.

Daryl had meant to go back to Rick’s, back to the cold, empty attic where he could curl up on his nest of blankets. But he found himself turning towards Aaron and Eric’s house across the street instead. He dithered on the porch, shifting his weight between his feet, waiting the few seconds for Aaron and Eric to overtake him, unlocking the door and giving them entry.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked, once the door was closed behind them. All of them were drenched, water dripping from them. Puddles were forming on the hardwood beneath their feet and Daryl felt uneasy looking down at yet another mess he’d brought into their lives.

“I’ll fetch the towels,” Aaron said, when the silence started getting too long. He ducked in to press a chaste kiss to Eric’s lips and Daryl had to look away. There was an ache inside of him that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and never so keenly. An urge to press himself closer, to insinuate himself into the intimacy they had with one another. And he hated that Shelly Neudemeyer was right, that she’d landed another blow with the ways Daryl was too deviant for the community they’d made here. And now he was dragging Aaron and Eric down with him, when all they’d ever done was welcome him in.

“Don’t listen to Shelly Neudemeyer,” Eric said, giving him a wry smile. “I know she makes me want to drive a pencil into my own eye most of the time, but she can’t do anything. All she has is talk.”

Daryl grunted, bowing his head. His hair was dripping. Giant beads of rainwater running down the tendrils of overlong hair to add to the growing puddle on the floor. Talk was bad enough, Daryl knew. He’d been the subject of talk all his life, and a reputation that preceded you could close a damn lot of doors in your face.

“Shouldn’t be here,” he said, vulnerability sliding out from a crack in his armour. He swayed on his feet, fingers fidgeting, and he had to stuff his hands under his armpits to make them stop.

“You deserve to be here,” Eric said, his wry smile softening into something sombre. His hand came to rest on Daryl’s arm, and it brought Daryl’s entire body to a halt. “Me and Aaron deserve to be here. Sometimes we have to fight for our place in a society that doesn’t understand us.”

“The people in this place just don’t know how to handle things from outside their own sheltered perspectives,” Aaron said, handing a towel over to Eric and holding one out for Daryl. Daryl couldn’t bring himself to take it, couldn’t bring himself to move, feeling suddenly cold when Eric’s hand left his arm, but unable to do anything about it. Aaron unfolded the towel and draped it carefully around Daryl’s shoulders instead.

“Come on, let’s get into some dry clothes and we’ll get dinner ready,” Aaron said, slowly leading the way to the stairs. Eric’s hand was on his arm again, and Daryl only needed that slight touch to urge him into motion, trailing behind Aaron up the staircase.

They pressed a change of clothes into Daryl’s hands and directed him towards the bathroom, the two of them staying in the bedroom. And Daryl hesitated. He couldn’t say why. But he had to look at them from the doorway, low voices murmuring to one another, their words accented by light, teasing laughter as they helped to dry each other off. It was only when Eric’s fingers started undoing the buttons on Aaron’s shirt, helping to peel him out of the soaking wet fabric that Daryl had to swallow quickly and turn away. He hurried to the bathroom with the speed and urgency of a man with a guard dog snarling at his heels.

Dinner was a stir fry. The venison Daryl had prepared the previous day accompanied by vegetables and thin pasta noodles. It was good. Daryl knew it, could taste it, couldn’t hold back the moan when he shovelled the first forkful into his mouth, his eyes falling half-closed.

Across the table, Eric grinned. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“You should," Aaron agreed, smiling at him as he started eating his own serving.

And it was easy. It was easy to focus on eating and let Aaron and Eric converse around him. His silence didn’t matter and his presence didn’t feel obtrusive. He didn’t need to join in or speak at all. When his glass ran dry, Aaron refilled his water without breaking pace in his conversation, moving like it was second nature, thoughtless and thoughtful at the same time.

“Sorry,” Daryl managed, eventually, biting the word out like it was painful to say. It brought the light conversation to a halt. The clink of silverware stopped just as surely as the conversation had, the room going silent as Aaron and Eric turned in unison to look at him.

“What for?” Aaron asked, gently. “You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

“Screwed up,” Daryl said. “Made a mess of that house. Got these people thinkin’s you’re…”

“Hey now,” Aaron said, picking up when Daryl trailed off. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You were taking care of this community, feeding its people. They’re complaining about what that looks like while enjoying the rewards of it. It’s only because they don’t know any better. We do. And we’ll teach them, even if it takes a while.”

“Besides,” Eric added, cheerfully poking the air with his fork to accentuate his words. “I think the carcasses add character.”

“Think these people want less damn character,” Daryl muttered, hunching over his empty plate and staring down at the streaks of dark sauce that were left.

“Maybe,” Aaron hedged, with a small shrug. “But they love having something to complain about. If it wasn’t this, it would be something else.”

Eric hummed in agreement. “Sherry used to be the head of a Homeowner's Association. She gets off on this kind of thing. These people aren’t prepared for the world outside these walls. Sherry has a conniption any time someone’s lawn grows too long; she wouldn’t survive walking one yard down the road outside.”

Turning to Aaron, he added, “Remember the flamingo?”

Aaron groaned, dropping his head into his hand for a moment, but he was smiling when he looked up again, an insurmountable amount of fondness in his expression. “How could I forget? She still reminds me every other week about what lawn ornaments are acceptable.”

“It’s still in the garage,” Eric said, thoughtfully. Maybe I’ll put it out again tomorrow.”

“Don’t,” Aaron said. There was warning in his tone, but he was still smiling. “I’ve got enough dealing with her and that request for a pasta maker.”

“Maybe I’ll just prop it up inside the window,” Eric said. “Then she can’t say anything about lawn presentation.”

“You’re always trying to court trouble.”

“She started it,” Eric said. “And it’s fun. I need a hobby. You know how bored I get.”

“Oh, I know,” Aaron said, around a laugh. “And I know what you’re like when you’re bored. At least this feud is relatively harmless.”

Daryl swallowed around a lump in his throat. “What they said… About me. Bein’ here with you…”

“Really,” Aaron said, his voice soft. He ducked his head down, trying to make eye contact with Daryl as he spoke. “Don’t listen to them. This isn’t something new. They’ve been making assumptions since we arrived here, talking behind our backs -”

“And to our faces,” Eric added, the joy from moments ago fading slowly from his features into something more resigned.

“People hate things they don’t understand. And they don’t understand us,” Aaron explained. “But they’re getting better. Slowly, but it’s happening. The more they see us, the more they get to know us, the more they change. Not everyone’s as bad as Sherry Neudemeyer. Not anymore.”

“If you feel uncomfortable around us –“ Eric started, but Daryl cut him off with a shake of his head.

“No, I…” he paused, biting down hard at the inside of his cheek. “You’re the only good thing about this place.”

It was too much. He knew it the second it spilled out of him and into the air between them.

“We like you too,” Eric said, simply.

“And the open invitation stands; you’re still welcome any time,” Aaron added. “We’re honestly glad for the company.”

“We like having you around,” Eric said.

Daryl’s throat felt too tight. There wasn’t enough air in his lungs, and he didn’t know how he could get more in when his throat was squeezing so tightly. His eyes stung and he dropped his head lower, letting his wet bangs conceal his face further.

“And you know you don’t have to sleep in the garage if you want to stay over,” Aaron continued, gently, like Daryl was a cornered animal that might bolt at one wrong move. Maybe he was. “We have a perfectly good guest room upstairs that never gets used.”

Daryl couldn’t answer, could hardly breathe let alone consider speaking.

“Alright,” Eric said, breaking the moment and pushing his chair back. “I’m bringing out desert.”

Daryl’s plate slid out from the table in front of him, carried off into the kitchen. He listened to the sounds of crockery being stacked by the sink, of new plates being pulled out of the cupboards, something being removed from the refrigerator, jars clinking as the door opened and closed.

“Blackberry pie,” Eric said, sliding a plate of the desert between Daryl’s elbows.

“You always make the best blackberry pie,” Aaron said, already digging into his own helping.

“It’s the old family recipe. Perfected through the generations.” Eric explained to Daryl when he finally moved, unable to resist the pull of something sweet. He’d usually count himself lucky just to have a filling meal, let alone something extra.

And it was good, just as he knew it would be. Everything Eric made seemed to taste amazing, no matter how low they were on supplies, or how many substitutions he made to his recipes.

“You know,” Eric said, as the last traces of pie disappeared from their respective plates. “We’ve got a huge back porch we never use.”

He shared a look with Aaron across the table, the two of them sharing a silent conversation completed through the tilt of their heads and the slightest shift of muscles on their faces.

“We do,” Aaron agreed. "We could maybe install some hooks on the ceiling out there. Cover the floor in a tarp so it’s easy to hose down.”

Daryl swallowed. “You’re okay with me draggin’ game ‘round your house?”

“It’s only the back porch,” Eric said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And I was raised on a farm; I’ve done my share of butchering. I could help you, if you ever want a hand.”

Daryl couldn’t bring himself to answer for a long minute. It felt like too much. But he nodded, ever so slightly. “I’ll bring in some more of them rabbits.”

Aaron laughed; a low chuckle of a sound that made Daryl’s insides feel warm.

“We’ll get it sorted in the morning,” Aaron said, wiping his hands on a napkin and setting it aside. “It’s been a long day, and I think I’m going to turn in.

After all the cleanup, Daryl was left standing alone in the guest room. He couldn’t bring himself to touch the bed, and he couldn’t settle on the floor. He sat up, staring out the window at the stars outside and listening to the gentle murmur of Aaron and Eric’s voices, soothing as the babbling of a brook, until they must have fallen asleep.

It was late. Or early. When he finally moved. His body protested, muscles straining and his joints creaking as he got to his feet and headed out to the bathroom to piss. On the way back he paused in the open doorway to the master bedroom. He couldn’t help but to look at them, Aaron and Eric in bed asleep. Their bodies were curled around one another and Daryl ached to be able to fall into the middle of it, longed for it in a way he'd never let himself even think about before. Watching them, he felt a wave of shame wash over him until it settled deep in his bones.

“Daryl?” Eric’s voice was hazy with sleep, and Daryl could just see him rubbing at his eyes in the dark. “Is everything alright?”

Daryl’s entire body froze like a deer caught in the headlights. “I… I didn’t mean –“

“Can’t sleep?” Eric asked, and it brought Daryl’s brain to a screeching halt. “Is there anything that’d help?”

Daryl swallowed thickly. His body swayed forward of its own accord, his hand raising, before he caught himself and took a step backward. Eric’s eyes were on him the entire time, tired but too alert for Daryl’s own peace of mind.

“Babe, is something wrong?” Aaron asked, his own voice thick with sleep.

“It’s Daryl,” Eric said, by way of explanation, his voice low and soft.

Aaron looked from Eric to Daryl in the doorway again, before returning his gaze to Eric. The two of them shared another silent conversation and Daryl turned his head, looking over his shoulder at the darkened hallway and considered making a break for it, running out onto the empty street.  

“Do you want to join us?” Eric asked, slowly and gently, tentative, like he wasn’t certain how Daryl would respond.

And Daryl couldn’t do anything but take another step inside the room, hope and shame warring for place inside him.

“Babe, move over,” Eric said, nudging at Aaron until he complied, both men shifting over on the mattress until there was room for Daryl to climb in. Both of them resettled, their bodies curling around each other once more, their eyes drifting shut.

“The offer's there,” Eric said, “if you want it.”

“It’s okay if you do, it’s okay if you don’t,” Aaron added, his voice muffled by his pillow. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Daryl lingered at their bedside, just trying to breathe, trying to work himself up into having the courage to make a move one way or the other. Until finally he reached forward, peeling back the blanket and feeling the mattress dip under his weight as he climbed in.

It was foreign and strange, and it set off a whole host of feelings inside of him, too tangled up to make sense of. But then Eric’s arm was pressed against his, and Aaron moved his hand from where it had been resting on Eric’s chest stretching to rest against Daryl’s instead. And, somehow, it was suddenly easier to breathe. Daryl took a gulping breath, feeling the hot sting of unshed tears forming behind his eyes. But despite the wild wave of emotions that were dredged up from deep inside of him, Daryl found himself falling suddenly and easily into a restful sleep for the first time in longer than he could remember.