Work Text:
They didn't go on runs together often anymore. Mostly because there was no need. The communities were prosperous ever since the end of the war. Thanks to Georgie’s aid, they had become self-sufficient and any place that held anything that was worth scavenging had already been emptied out anyways. Besides, hordes were smaller and few and far between, walkers were weaker and easier to deal with, having starved themselves overtime. They lived busy lives, things needed to get done around Hilltop; reinforcing the fences, taking care of the crops, tending the cattle… There was no need to send two of their strongest fighters out there anymore. Though Daryl was sure Maggie had just gotten annoyed and decided to put them on time out after the stunt they’d pulled last time.
Daryl and Paul were strong and efficient. They did what they had to do and had a strict “no bullshit” policy that they followed like a damn gospel. Bullshit got you killed, and they’d had enough of that. During the war, they had each been given the task to lead their groups in an effort to take the Saviours out, which they had succeeded in with almost no casualties. People trusted them and their judgment, which was why they sometimes indulged themselves into some well deserved alone time.
When they went on runs together though, they used to get a little distracted. Outside, they had a privacy they couldn't find in the community. They held onto it and visited places they had never been before, each run feeling like a damn vacation. They loved their people, but sometimes they needed to get away from everything, get lost into each other again. It made them lash out like feral animals, sneaking into abandoned houses or hotel rooms like horny teenagers and tearing each other apart.
Before the turn, after they'd moved in together, they would take Daryl’s bike and drive wherever on the weekends or on free days. Follow what they’d scribbled on their paper map and go to places they didn't know. It was like a game, trying to draw a circle around every small town they could find. They had never been the kind to go on romantic dates to fancy restaurants, favouring the spontaneous trips and the wind blowing in their faces. Paul had always been a curious little shit, fascinated by absolutely everything. Any landscape or roadside oddity was enough to bring a breathtaking smile to his face and stars to his eyes, pushing Daryl to find more interesting places each time.
They had of course continued with Paul’s tradition of following random bands around and spending their money on concerts and festivals; it had been the reason they had fallen in love after all. Those were some of his fondest memories. Throwing themselves on a shitty motel bed, still feeling the high of the night they just had and basking into each other's warmth while talking excitedly about everything that happened during the concert. He sometimes wondered if any of his favourite artists had made it out alive.
Now however, concerts weren't a thing anymore and free time wasn't either. Even listening to music has become a luxury. All they have is the record player and the record collection Georgie had gifted them, which wasn't really to their taste, but they won't complain about it. Everything had a purpose now, you didn't do shit for fun anymore. It was starting to piss Daryl off. Before they went to sleep, they used to actually talk. Now it was all planning, worrying about the future, about what they would do next. What if the crops didn't grow? How would they survive winter? Did they need a new fertilizer for the soil? I think one of the cows is sick. We haven't had any news from the Kingdom, think we should take a trip up there?
They had had a fun, fun life. He could see Paul vibrating out of his skin, he was getting bored, incredibly so since there wasn't even anything to do outside the walls anymore. At least before they'd had the adrenaline rush of danger. They hadn't even crossed paths with dangerous hordes or other groups in almost six years.
Music had been his lifeline. Both of theirs, really. Without it, Daryl would probably never have left his shitty family and their trailer in Sedalia. Would have probably remained a dumb close minded redneck stuck in a loop of anger and hate, aimed at himself and anyone who even dared to look at him funny. Without it, he wouldn't have grown the balls it took to tell his father and his brother to fuck off, to accept himself for who he was, to heal. Most of all, he wouldn't have met Paul. And he remembered a conversation he'd had with him a few years back, while they were laying on their bed, talking about the past when Paul had admitted he would have probably blown his brains off if he didn't have the joy of listening to music to channel his feelings while living with a shit foster family. So yes, to them, music was salvation.
But Paul was his whole world, and he could see the weight of everything on his shoulders, ever since Maggie had left him in charge. She was still the boss of Hilltop, but raising a kid on her own was hard and Paul, like the goddamned sweetheart he was, volunteered to help her out with the leadership of the Hilltop.
When they first met, Paul was a troubled kid. He was nine years younger than Daryl, living in his car after getting kicked out of his group home and a downright alcoholic. The memory of their first meeting made the side of his mouth quirk upwards, he really had been an asshole. He remembered seeing this kid parked in front of his garage like an idiot, thinking he was going to lose his shit due to irritation. Little did he know he'd be the most important person in his life a couple years later.
Paul didn't have anything, no family, no money, but he was still one of the happiest people Daryl had ever met. So happy it pissed him off, in fact. He was that kind of person that once he started talking about something he enjoyed, he wouldn't shut up about it. He used to go on and on about music or a movie he'd recently watched that he was convinced Daryl had to watch, too. He was kind, incredibly so, always talking to him with a tenderness he had never seen directed at him before. It actually made Daryl jealous sometimes, how was a guy who had grown with nothing just like him so damn caring? Did he ever feel the anger Daryl felt?
Lately however, that happy, energetic man had started to lose his spark, the one Daryl loved and cherished so much. He wasn't going to just stand and fucking watch. So, he decided he was taking his man on a well deserved vacation and wasn't letting him say no. He could see the effect it had on Paul instantly, how his dull eyes lit up, his lips quivering in an almost smile he was trying to repress. It was so cute it made his heart swell. They could barely sleep that night, it was like the promise of some time away had awakened something in Paul that just wouldn't let him rest.
They left early, the sun hadn't come out yet, submerging the Hilltop in a blue filter. They were going to take the bike. It wasn't something they did anymore, to their biggest chagrin, fuel was a rarity to come by nowadays. But for Paul, he didn't give a shit, he missed riding anyway. They didn't take much, only a small bag with food and two water bottles, they would deal with the rest. Paul had been reluctant to leave, worrying and putting everyone’s safety first, as per usual. He often left on day trips with Aaron, but was always back by the end of the day. It had been months since they'd been gone for longer than that.
Maggie met them by the doors, reassuring them that everything was going to be taken care of, that they should leave with their mind at ease. Daryl had discussed this trip with her beforehand, apparently she had also noticed Paul’s current mood. She encouraged the trip and demanded Daryl to bring Paul back happier than ever before, giving him a wink. Warmth reached the tips of his ears to the suggestion.
They finally left as dawn was starting to break, riding toward the sunlight on the horizon. He felt free, something he hadn't felt in years trapped inside walls and surrounded by dead people walking. He knew Paul felt just the same. It felt like they had traveled back in time, there weren't any walkers or crazy blood thirsty psychos in sight. The world seemed normal, as if it never had ended. With Paul holding onto him, he guessed it never really did. If he drifted off for a bit, he could pretend this was just another weekend outing after a long week of work and they were going to go back home to the Athens outskirts right after.
His heart ached whenever he thought of their house, their neighbours and friends, the life they had. Most, if not all, of those people are dead. They had busted their asses to build their home, they’d done it with such care. Paul was homeless and jobless, while Daryl lived in a small house that was basically falling apart with his roommate, living paycheck to paycheck. Somehow, years down the line, they had turned their lives around and could finally afford buying a home. He remembers visiting each one, sometimes with Paul, other times on his own, until they’d found the perfect one. It wasn't a big house by any means, but it had a small bedroom, a small kitchen and a living room where they fit their books and CD’s. They even had a back yard with access to the woods, so Daryl would go hunting in the mornings. It was all they needed. It was perfect. They had made it their safe haven throughout the years.
That place was gone now, replaced by their small trailer at the Hilltop. It was enough, but once you got the taste of having something that was truly your own, it was incredibly hard to let go. They had never had anything that had truly been theirs until each other and until that house. At least Paul was with him, he would've lost his mind otherwise.
Daryl had already planned where they would go and where they would be staying. There was a long ride ahead to get there, maybe around three hours. He'd found a place in the woods, some small but fancy hotel they would've never in a million years been able to afford before. Paul was going to look at him funny once they got there, but he didn't care, he fucking deserved it. He had taken care of clearing the place out last time he was around the area, which had been well over a year ago. He could only hope the place had stayed clean. Even better though, they would pass a record store on the way there.
Back in the day, Daryl and Paul would usually go into record stores and spend hours looking through vinyl records and CDs, often leaving the store empty handed. Though Paul sometimes revealed a CD he had successfully sneaked out, a habit Daryl had to force him out of. Jesus Christ you little shit stop fucking stealing. He had forced him to return one once like a disappointed dad. Paul was utterly humiliated, Daryl had never laughed so hard. He'd teased him about it for months and it had been effective, Paul had never stolen anything again. Maybe that's why he liked scavenging so much, it was like stealing with no consequences.
They reached the store and Paul was already hurrying out of the bike before it even came to a full stop.
“Will you calm the fuck down?” Daryl said, exasperated.
“You brought me to a record store! Thought I would never see one of these again. How did you even find it?”
“I’m a good tracker, I always find good shit.” He said while a smug grin spread across his lips. He loved being the source of Paul’s happiness, it made him feel confident like nothing else could. I made Paul happy? Fuck yeah, I’m the shit. Though he would never say anything like that aloud, he was sure it showed on his face, as Paul rolled his eyes and put his arms around his neck, pushing their foreheads together.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He said, clearly teasing him, but it was sincere.
“Come on, Imma add some actual good stuff to that old lady’s collection.” The music Georgie had brought them was alright, but overtime listening to that damn melancholic folk music was going to destroy any and all will to live he still had.
Paul snorted and made his way towards the entrance of the store. Making sure to knock in case there were still walkers inside, you could never be too sure, he opened the doors and let out a sigh of relief. It was an honest to God record store. It was quite big, two stories filled with rows upon rows of shelves. Evidently, records weren't the first thing people threw themselves onto once the national alert of a deadly virus had started to spread. The store probably looked exactly as the last employees had left it. The first floor had a huge collection of pop, rap, jazz and R&B records along with some of the most popular songs at the moment of the turn. The rock section was upstairs, he signaled it out to Paul and they both rushed to the stairs. In the center of the room was a listening station with four headphones attached.
“It's been way too long since we've been in one of these, I might just start crying” Paul said with a sigh. This had been one of their favourite hobbies, Daryl had missed this. Going around the store, showing each other new records or finding new music on the spot. Seeing Paul so eager, looking around the room excited like a little kid with a small smile on his lips had a lump forming in his throat. This time they had together meant everything to him. Daryl was so fucking lucky to have someone who knew him so completely by his side. Paul had never left him, they'd been together since the beginning. He couldn't imagine what Rick had felt when he'd been looking for Carl and Lori before reaching the camp, and couldn't even begin to conceive going through what Maggie had gone through. He would have killed everyone, if not himself. Already weighed down by the grief of every loss they had experienced, losing Paul would be the last straw. Maggie was so fucking strong.
He was brought back to himself when Paul's big blue eyes met his, realising he’d gotten caught staring. Paul had this look, like he understood what Daryl was thinking about. It was one of the things he loved the most about being with Paul, words often weren't needed, they understood each other on a deeper level. It made his heart swell so he pretended to look around the CDs so as to not make a complete fool out of himself. Almost seventeen years later Paul still made him flustered with a single look. He was pushing fifty acting like a shy teenager. A shriek pulled him out of his thoughts, jumping directly into fight mode.
“Daryl oh my God look!” Paul was shrieking and jumping around, getting all up in his face holding out a CD.
“Paul, I can't see shit if you're jumping and waving it around” Daryl said in a soft voice, a fond look in his eyes.
Paul suddenly stood still, holding the record in front of him, close to his body so Daryl could read its title. He recognised it instantly. Written in bold red letters read “T.S.O.L. - Dance with me”. It was the record that had almost killed Paul in the middle of the mosh pit back in the summer of 1999, the reason they had met. Though Paul argued that they had really met in front of Daryl’s house, the latter had acted like such an asshole that thinking of that as their first meeting made him cringe.
“You think these things still work?” Paul asked, pointing to the listening station. It was unlikely, but Daryl had seen some battery-powered stuff downstairs. They hurried downstairs, CD in hand, looking for something that would allow them to listen to it. Miraculously, they found a pile of batteries next to a small Philips boombox. Crossing their fingers, Paul put the CD in and pressed play. They waited a moment, listening to each other's breath, when suddenly sound started to come out of the device. They jumped around excitedly as “Sounds of laughter” started to play. Listening to the record hit them with a wave of nostalgia so strong it almost brought them to their knees. Before the song could even finish its first sentence though, Paul was already changing the song, switching the volume up.
“Code Blue” invaded the room, the song in which Daryl had dragged Paul’s ass away from the crowd. It was their song, but Daryl realised that maybe it was a little weird considering the current context of their lives.
I’d rather go out and fuck the dead
‘Cause I can do what I want and they won't complain
I wanna fuck, I wanna fuck the dead
Jeez. Paul looked fucking delighted though. He was moving his head, waving his long hair around.
It had gotten long, growing m well past his shoulders. He hadn't really taken notice of it. He looked so fucking beautiful, almost ethereal even as he banged his head around to the song. Daryl started to also let loose, swinging his head around along with Paul.
Lift up the casket and fiddle with the dead
Their code blue flesh makes me go red
Do what I want and they won't complain
I wanna fuck, I wanna fuck the dead
“Let’s see if they have it on vinyl so we can take it back home.” Daryl said.
Before he could move though, Paul took him by his arm, bringing him closer. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, catching their breath. Their little dancing had gotten them all sweaty and breathless. Damn, they were fucking old. Paul had this look on his eyes again, full of love and fondness. He was basically pouring every emotion into a single look. It was mesmerising. It seemed like he wanted to say something but was struggling to put his thoughts into words, opening and closing his mouth. Weird, since that was usually Daryl’s issue.
“You know I really fucking love you, right?” Paul finally said. And fuck if that didn't get Daryl going. Being loved was the best feeling in the world, and being loved so deeply by someone he loved right back was indescribable. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
“I really fucking love you, too.” He answered. They loved each other so fully and confidently, it had been a struggle for the both of them to wrap their heads around that fact. As they leaned into each other, Paul took Dayl by the back of his head while the latter held him firmly by the waist. They closed the space in between, sharing a soft but deep kiss. Putting their foreheads together before detaching themselves from each other parting ways to look for their record.
Once they found it, they had already spent around two hours inside the store, listening to different records that had caught their eye. They put every record they found and liked in a plastic bag as they headed towards their next stop.
Their lives were never going back to what they were, but holding onto small moments of normalcy such as these made fighting for what they had feel so much more worth it.