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The day they finally got a little bit of luck started quite normally. Rick woke up warm and relaxed with Daryl still spooned up close behind him but already awake, and he relished the contact. He grumbled a quiet good morning under his breath and shuddered when Daryl whispered it right back against the nape of his neck, his lips ghosting over his skin, forming what Rick could swear was a smug smile.
Lately, Daryl seemed to take particular enjoyment in making Rick shiver - by whispering against his skin, kissing the nape of his neck or, more recently, slipping his hand under his shirt and teasingly stroking his belly with the pads of his fingers - and Rick found himself wondering when - when, and definitely not if anymore - they would both gather enough courage to do something about the tension slowly building between them.
Before Daryl could keep teasing him with his wandering fingers, Rick caught his hand and brought it up to rest against his chest. Daryl grunted unhappily behind him, and it was Rick’s turn to smile. He brushed his fingers over Daryl’s knuckles, trapped his feet with his own so he wouldn’t be tempted to slip away and closed his eyes, hoping to enjoy a slow morning and doze off for a little while longer.
Unfortunately, Daryl was a fucking morning person, and it wasn’t long before he started squirming in earnest, trying to escape Rick’s hold. With a tired sigh, Rick let go of Daryl’s hand and allowed him to roll away.
“One day,” Rick grumbled sleepily into his pillow, “You’re going to learn to sleep in and enjoy it.”
Daryl chuckled, gave his shoulder a squeeze, then got up, lifting the covers and letting the cold air seep into their previously warm cocoon. Rick shivered, stubbornly resisting the urge to whine in his pillow, and curled up under his side of the quilt, trying to conserve whatever heat was left.
“Come on, Rick,” Daryl said as he padded out of the room, “It’s Saturday. Got things to do.”
“Brew me some coffee first, then we’ll see,” Rick grunted back, burrowing a little deeper under the covers.
He managed to doze for a few more minutes until Daryl called to let him know breakfast was ready. Unable to sleep any longer, Rick got up and cursed when his feet hit the freezing floor. Winter was settling in for real, and the cold temperatures and shorter days did nothing to help him get moving in the morning. Quite the opposite, in fact.
When he finally made it downstairs, Daryl had lit the wood stove and laid out breakfast on the table. Rick made a beeline for his steaming coffee mug and let out a quiet groan at the first sip, warmth quickly spreading through his body. While Rick was busy enjoying his coffee and warming himself up, Daryl stood at the stove, putting the finishing touches on the scrambled eggs.
“Thanks,” Rick mumbled after Daryl filled his plate.
They ate in silence, Rick occasionally brushing his cold feet against Daryl’s warm ankles, and they served each other in turn. Daryl refilled their mugs, while Rick cut the bread and spread either cheese or jam on it.
Once they were done, Daryl headed to the bathroom and Rick did the dishes. By the time Daryl came back down, the sun was slowly rising and Rick was mostly awake. He took in the way Daryl was dressed - sturdy boots, heavy jacket and the crossbow slung over his shoulder - and felt the familiar tug in his chest, Daryl was ready to head out on a hunt.
There might not be walkers out there anymore, but Rick’s heart still sank a little ; he didn’t think he would ever feel completely comfortable watching Daryl go off alone - whether for a day or just a few minutes. Be that as it may, they couldn’t realistically spend their whole lives clinging to one another - they would go mad - so Rick buried his fear and tried not to act like an overbearing asshole.
“You should put on a scarf,” Rick told him, trying not to show his discomfort, and smiled when Daryl rolled his eyes.
“You’re such a worrywart,” Daryl grumbled, but he still complied. He wrapped a thick scarf around his neck, and Rick stepped closer to tuck it into his jacket.
“You got your gloves?”
“Yes.”
“Thermos?”
“Don’t need one.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” Daryl said, then added after a few seconds, “Won’t mind a hot coffee when I get back though.”
Rick smiled.
“I’ll make sure you get some,” he said. “Where are you headed?”
“Around the lake, then north. Saw some tracks last week.”
Rick nodded. Daryl might head out on a hunt alone, but at least Rick knew where he was going and could go after him in case of an emergency.
“And you?” Daryl asked, “Planning to head out?”
“Nah,” Rick shook his head, “Got a few people coming over to pick up meat, then I want to take a look under the deck. See if I can catch whatever’s nesting under there.”
For the past couple of days, they’d been hearing odd noises in the evening - scratching, thumping, sometimes growling or chittering - and Rick wanted to deal with whatever animal thought it was a good idea to settle under their house before it drove them crazy.
“Hope you don’t get sprayed by a skunk,” Daryl said, his lips twitching, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a smug little smile that made Rick sigh and cross his arms over his chest.
“You’re an idiot,” Rick said a bit more fondly than he meant to, “And it’s not a skunk.”
“Could be.”
“We’re missing the stink, it’s not a skunk.”
Daryl shrugged, apparently unconvinced, and headed for the door. He stepped outside, then stuck his head back in and smirked.
“Get sprayed and I’m kicking you out of bed tonight!”
“Oh my fucking God,” Rick growled, stomping to the door, “It’s not a fucking skunk, you asshole!”
Daryl jumped down from the porch before Rick could reach him and took off at a jog toward the treeline. The sound of his laughter warmed Rick’s heart and he couldn’t help but grin. It was good to see Daryl happy, even if he was acting like an annoying little wiseass.
“You better come back with something, or you’ll be the one sleeping on the couch tonight!”
“When have I ever come back empty-handed?”
“I’m craving deer! Not squirrels!”
“Picky eater!”
Rick rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorjamb.
“Someone’s got to keep you on your toes,” Rick shot back, smirking.
Daryl stopped at the treeline and looked back at him, something soft in his expression. He shook his head, and they exchanged one last long look and a nod before Daryl disappeared into the forest. Rick kept his eyes on the spot where he’d last stood for a few seconds longer, then turned back - Daryl was a grown man, probably the most competent man he knew and he would be fine - but before he could close the door, Daryl’s voice rang out one last time.
“Have fun with the skunk!”
“It’s not a fucking skunk!” Rick yelled back, but silence was the only answer he got. He grumbled, slammed the door shut behind him, and stomped back into the kitchen where he downed another cup of coffee.
It was barely dawn, so Rick had a couple of hours to kill before the first people showed up to pick up the meat. It would give him time to deal with a few chores, do the things they didn’t get to during the week - start a load of laundry, vacuum, chop wood, to name but the most pressing - before Daryl got back and they’d both have to deal with the fresh meat he’d bring in.
He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and promised himself he’d sleep in tomorrow and fucking enjoy it. Then he got to work. First, he tidied up the house and tried not to think about how quiet the place felt without Daryl. Then, once the sun was truly up, he bundled up and went outside to empty the trash and start chopping wood.
Rick got into a good rhythm, splitting logs, filling the wood basket in the living room, then stacking the rest in a pile out in the yard, when the first car appeared down the road. He planted his axe in a log, pulled off his gloves, and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Then he ducked inside to make himself a little more presentable and stepped back out just in time to greet his first customers.
Having people over always made him wary, but he tried not to let it show. He shook hands, smiled, excused Daryl’s absence, and forced himself through some small talk, even managing to exchange a few jokes with his customers. Within minutes, meat and money changed hands, a new order was set for two weeks out, and Rick waved them off as they drove away.
Over the next hour, five more people stopped by, and their freezer ended up half empty. Once they were gone, Rick let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and took a minute to count the money. They were lucky, their earnings would be enough to complete this month’s alimony. Rick was glad John had sent a few people their way for the meat, it wasn’t much - a few hundred bucks now and then - but it was a game changer.
Rick put the money away, grabbed a quick bite, filled a thermos with hot coffee for Daryl, then went back outside to finish the wood pile in the yard. Once he was done, he looked toward the deck - or more precisely, the space beneath it - let out a long, tired sigh, and went to fetch a flashlight. He really fucking hoped he was right and that he wasn’t about to come face to face with a skunk. Daryl would never let him live it down.
Before crawling under the deck, Rick tried to scare the pest off by stomping his feet and knocking against the wood, but nothing came out. It looked like he’d have to go in after it. He sighed, crouched down to peer into the darkness under the deck, and reminded himself that the outbreak hadn’t happened and that he definitely wasn’t going to find a walker under the house.
He couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him at the thought and, for a second, he wished Daryl was there, at his back. But Daryl wasn’t here, and Rick was a grown man who shouldn’t be afraid of the dark and should be able to deal with a stupid pest on his own. So he took a deep breath, steadied himself, and crawled under the deck.
At first glance, everything seemed normal, but a more thorough examination revealed tracks and droppings. He swore when he nearly put his hand in the damn feces and cursed the fact that he didn’t have Daryl’s knowledge. This would’ve been enough for him to know exactly what was living under their deck.
Rick swept the beam of the flashlight left and right, but he didn’t spot anything. What he did notice, though, was a small opening a few meters away, just big enough for an animal to slip through. He grumbled under his breath as he crawled forward, and once he reached the small hole, pointed the flashlight inside it and… came face to face with an angry spitting raccoon.
Startled, he scrambled backward, hit his head on the deck above, and let go of the flashlight which rolled away into the dark. Luckily, the raccoon didn’t follow him, but it still took Rick a few seconds to get his bearings and retrieve the flashlight. Then he just sat there under the deck, rubbing his throbbing head and wondering what the hell he was going to do about the damn raccoon.
Before Rick could come up with a solution - or a stupid idea bound to turn into a disaster - he heard a car pull up in the yard. He switched off the flashlight and frowned in the dark; He wasn’t expecting anyone else today and wondered who was looking for him or Daryl.
Carefully, he crawled back toward the edge of the deck and peered out at the car. He didn’t recognize it and the pair of boots he could see didn’t ring a bell either. He listened as the man climbed the steps to the porch and knocked on their door, debating whether to show himself or not.
“Anyone here?” The man called after a few seconds and Rick figured that if the guy meant them harm, he wouldn’t be announcing himself so openly. So he crawled back toward the light and emerged from under the deck just as the man jumped down the last steps from the porch.
They both froze.
The man was tall, dark-haired and broad-shouldered with a short beard, and Rick quickly determined that he didn’t know him. It took him a second to get to his feet, and he did so with an embarrassed smile, before greeting the stranger, his eyes sharp, assessing.
“Sorry about that,” Rick said. “We’ve got a raccoon nesting under the house.”
“Got rid of it?” the man asked with a smile.
“Not yet, but we will,” Rick grumbled before introducing himself, “I’m Rick Grimes.”
“Robert Davies,” the man replied, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Rick said, shaking it. “What can I do for you, Mr. Davies?”
“Robert, please.”
“Rick then. And…?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for your partner, Daryl Dixon?” He nodded, then glanced around, probably expecting to spot him nearby.
Rick’s mind went into overdrive and he froze. He took another long, hard look at the man in front of him, but he definitely didn’t remember ever meeting him - not even before. So what did he want with Daryl? Why was he looking for him? What was Rick supposed to do? Cover for him? Fight? Plan an escape route?
Rick tensed, his hands curling into fists, and he was a few seconds away from swinging - he would’ve already drawn his gun if he’d been carrying but…
“Rick?” Robert asked, cutting through his thoughts. He’d taken a step back and looked concerned - or maybe wary, Rick couldn’t tell - and he suddenly realized he’d been overreacting. He reminded himself that violence wouldn’t solve anything - not here, not anymore - and forced himself to relax and actually listen to his visitor before he did something rash. He rolled his shoulders, took a step back, and unclenched his hands, doing his best not to look like a complete psycho.
“Sorry,” Rick said, pointing south, in the opposite direction Daryl had headed this morning, “Daryl’s not here. He’s out hunting.”
“And when will he be back?”
“No idea,” Rick shrugged, he didn’t even have to lie. Then he asked, a little more brusquely than he meant to, “How do you know Daryl?”
“I don’t,” the man answered and every alarm in Rick’s head went off at once.
He stumbled back again, already wondering if he could lose the guy if he bolted now. His heart beat faster, his breathing turned shallow and his fingers twitched. What he wouldn’t give for his gun right now.
“But he changed my daughter’s tire two weeks ago. I wanted to thank him.”
Rick’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. He blinked.
“What?” he asked, his voice rough. Robert blinked and shrugged like Rick should know what he was talking about. Rick didn’t. He was lost, utterly and completely lost.
“Elena, my daughter, was stuck on the old forest road one evening,” Robert explained, pointing back toward the road he’d just come from, “She had a flat tire and no idea how to deal with it.”
He chuckled, and Rick nodded, still confused.
“Your partner stopped and changed it for her. He didn't tell you?”
“Must’ve slipped his mind,” Rick said, trying to picture the scene. It wasn’t hard. Daryl was kind - he knew that - and while he hadn’t always had the chance to be - especially in the post-outbreak world where harshness had meant survival - he’d never lost that part of himself. Rick felt a small, fond smile tug at his lips. He was glad this world afforded Daryl the opportunity to do good if he wanted to.
“But, yeah, that sounds like him,” Rick said, a little more open now. Robert relaxed at that, a smile spreading across his face
“I’m glad he was there.”
“I'll let him know you stopped by,” Rick said, “He’ll appreciate it.”
Robert hummed, glancing around with curiosity. He didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, and Rick wondered if he’d have to entertain him until Daryl returned from his hunt. He wasn’t used to visitors anymore - especially unexpected ones - and he wasn’t thrilled about the man lingering.
Still, it was as good an opportunity as any to brush up on his rusty social skills. After all, they couldn't spend the rest of their lives in total isolation. And who knew, maybe something good could come out of it…
Rick cleared his throat and gestured awkwardly at the cabin.
“Can I… uh… offer you something? Coffee? Maybe Daryl will come back in the meantime.”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
It was trouble, but Rick smiled and invited Robert inside anyway. His guest looked around curiously, just as he had in the yard, and Rick silently thanked God that neither he nor Daryl were messy and that he’d taken the time to vacuum this morning. Still, he nudged a knife out of sight and slid a plate over a stubborn stain on the counter neither of them had gotten around to scrub out yet.
Once coffee was poured, Rick invited Robert to take a seat at the table and they made small talk. They talked about the colder weather, the possibility of snow this winter - something Rick sincerely hoped they’d avoid - and Rick asked about Robert’s daughter, chuckling when the man admitted he’d tried teaching her how to change a tire, but apparently none of it had stuck. They fell silent after that and Rick nursed his cup of coffee, waiting for Robert to speak up and tell him what he really was here for.
“You know,” Robert said after draining his cup, “I asked around about you two.”
Rick hummed softly and tried not to react. He hated that they were drawing attention, but he also knew it was inevitable. Even as his knuckles whitened around his mug and sweat prickled at the nape of his neck, he kept his breathing steady, hoping the cracks in his composure weren’t showing.
“Information about you two is pretty scarce.”
That was a relief. Rick nodded and tried not to appear too obviously glad to hear it. If it’d been up to him, he would’ve already sagged back in his chair and let out a deep sigh, but appearances mattered, so he held himself together.
“We’re discreet,” he said, shrugging, “And we like it that way.”
The implication being that Rick hoped Robert wouldn’t spend the next few days running around town gossiping about them. Robert frowned thoughtfully, but nodded and Rick smiled before topping off his cup again.
“Perhaps,” Robert acknowledged, “But being too discreet won’t earn you much sympathy. Especially in such a close-knit community. You’re new, so people have been patient so far, but it won’t last if you keep yourselves shut off.”
Rick appreciated the warning but he already knew that. He just wasn’t sure he and Daryl were ready to lower their guard yet. He took a sip of coffee to buy himself some time.
“We’re just trying to get back up on our feet,” Rick finally answered, “Build a life here. A quiet one. Peaceful.”
“And how’s that going?”
The question was asked kindly, but it still rattled Rick. He considered lying for a few seconds, before choosing to tell the truth.
“Honestly?” He let out a quiet breath. “Not so great.”
Robert nodded slowly, like that answer didn’t surprise him.
And suddenly, Rick deflated. He let go of his cup, sagged back in his chair, and ran a hand over his face with a muttered Jesus. Who knew facing the truth and being honest was going to be that hard?
“Yeah, that’s what I gathered,” Robert agreed. He looked at ease in his seat and Rick couldn’t help but glare at him a little. “Money problems?”
“Among other things,” Rick admitted and instantly wanted to kick himself for it.
People knowing they were broke didn’t bother him… Well, no, that wasn’t true. It did bother him, but he couldn’t do anything about it so he let it go. But people didn’t need to know they had other problems on top of everything else. He shot Robert a warning look, but luckily the man didn’t push.
“You looking for work?”
Rick straightened slightly at the question, hope flaring before he could stop it. But no. It was too good to be true. Still, maybe, just maybe.
“We both are,” he answered carefully, and Robert nodded like it made sense.
“Word around town is your partner’s pretty handy.”
“He is,” Rick agreed quickly, “Daryl can do damn near anything.”
Robert nodded once, then looked straight at Rick.
“What about you?”
“Me?” Rick asked, taken-aback. “Well… I…”
“You’re helping out over at John's farm for now, right?”
Rick swallowed and nodded, wondering where Robert was going with this line of questioning.
“But you’re no farmer,” Robert said. It wasn’t a question so Rick didn’t feel the need to answer. “What’d you do before you came here?”
Rick considered lying again, but it wouldn’t gain them anything, might even come back to bite them in the ass later. The truth it was then.
“Law enforcement,” Rick mumbled, fiddling with his cup, “Sheriff’s deputy. But… “
He hesitated briefly.
“I can’t go back to that.”
“I imagine you can’t,” Robert agreed and Rick immediately found himself wondering what exactly the man knew.
Did he have contacts in law enforcement? Did he know about the kidnapping? He couldn’t know about Rick’s fear of going too far if pushed, of reverting to the violence that was once necessary to survive. So he had to know about the kidnapping, right? But Robert didn’t seem the type to invite himself over for a friendly chat with someone he considered an unhinged psycho so…
“Were you out?” he asked.
Rick stared at him, completely thrown. What the fuck was he talking about now?
“What?”
“Your coworkers, did they know about you and Daryl? That’s why you left, isn’t it? Oh, fucking hell, you weren’t outed, were you?” Robert asked, suddenly sounding quite horrified.
Homophobia. Robert was talking about fucking homophobia, and Rick almost laughed. Not because it was funny - it wasn’t -, but considering the situation… Here Rick was, living with Daryl, not in a relationship with the man, but also not-not in a relationship with him while everyone apparently assumed they were together already.
And while Rick had been worrying about his past actions, money problems and trying not to break down, people were worried about homophobia. They hadn’t even had to deal with homophobic assholes yet - though Rick had no doubt they eventually would.
He bit down hard on his lip, ducked his head and swallowed back the hysterical laughter threatening to spill out of him. He didn’t want to appear insane, not after all the trouble he went through to keep his calm.
“Oh, shit,” Robert, said after a few seconds of heavy silence, blushing, “Sorry, that was… pretty insensitive.”
Maybe it was. But Robert could’ve asked far worse questions, so Rick couldn't quite bring himself to be offended. He smiled and shook his head.
“It's fine. And no, we weren't outed,” Rick said, before deciding to take a small liberty with the truth. If Robert was handing him an explanation for their situation, Rick was sure going to use it. “We left before it could happen.”
It wasn't true, but it was believable. And, as he said it, Rick realized that if he had started a relationship with Daryl while he was still a deputy, he probably would’ve had to quit anyway. He thought back to some of the comments his former coworkers used to make about gay people and grimaced. Yeah, he definitely wouldn't have been able to stay, not if he’d ever wanted to feel safe on the job again.
“I’m sorry.”
Rick shrugged, relieved when the subject changed.
“And what did Daryl do?”
That was a good question. A tricky one, too. Rick had a vague idea, but they’d never talked about it - not before, and not in this world either - and he frowned, trying to come up with a way to paint Daryl in a good light.
“A bit of this and that,” Rick finally said. “Whatever paid the bills.”
“Mechanic?”
“Among other things,” Rick answered, hoping he wasn’t completely off-base and then offered something he knew for certain, “He really likes working on bikes.”
Robert hummed and leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind, and Rick gave him time to think.
“A buddy of mine owns a garage in the next town over,” Robert finally said after a moment, “I told him about you two, about what Daryl did for Elena. He’s willing to interview your partner and give him a shot on a trial basis.”
Rick startled so badly he nearly dropped his cup. Then he stared at Robert in stunned silence.
“Rick?” Robert asked, and Rick shook his head, trying to come back to his senses.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” Robert pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table. “Here’s the number. Ask for Matt Burner, he's expecting your call.”
“Robert. I…,” Rick exhaled shakily, “I don't know what to say.”
“Thank you usually works,” Robert replied with a small smile, “Unless you're not interested?”
“Oh, no, no, no, we are,” Rick hurried to say. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself a little here - he had no idea how Daryl would react to being offered a job - but this was exactly what they were aiming for, so Rick didn’t see Daryl turning it down. “Thank you so much, Robert. Seriously. This… This could change everything for us.”
“I just wanted to repay your partner’s kindness,” Robert shrugged, then fixed Rick with a pointed look, “But just so we’re clear… This is only a trial run. He’ll need to prove himself if he wants to keep the job.”
“I know,” Rick said quickly, nodding, “I’ll tell Daryl.”
He wanted to tell Robert that Daryl was no slacker, that he worked harder than anyone Rick had ever known and that if he wanted this job, he’d fight tooth and nail to keep it, but he thought better of it. He should probably talk about it with Daryl before committing him to something he didn’t even know about yet.
Now that Robert had finally said what he came to say, the conversation naturally wound down. As they slowly made their way back outside, Rick thanked Robert one more time for the job opportunity, and Robert reminded Rick to thank Daryl for helping his daughter.
They shook hands beside Robert’s car - much more warmly than they had earlier - and they parted ways after a few more minutes of small talk. And then Rick watched Robert drive away, a small smile playing on his lips and all thoughts of the damn raccoon nesting under the house forgotten.
There were still chores waiting for him, but Rick couldn’t be bothered to deal with them. He left the axe buried in the chopping block, the flashlight abandoned on the porch’s steps and the laundry sitting forgotten in the washing machine while he paced around the yard, silently willing Daryl to come home already. Now. He needed to tell him the news. Needed to thank him and hug the everloving shit out of him and where the hell was he?
“Rick? You alright?”
Rick hadn't heard Daryl come back and jumped out of his skin when he called. When he finally looked up, relief hit him hard. Daryl was standing at the edge of the forest, whole and unharmed, with a deer slung over his shoulders and a string of squirrels hanging around his neck.
“You!” Rick said, striding up to him.
“Me?” Daryl asked, sounding slightly wary.
“Yes, you,” Rick repeated and dragged Daryl into a hug as soon as he reached him. It was awkward as hell - Daryl was bloody, one of the deer’s legs smacked Rick in the face, and the squirrels got squished between their bodies. Rick didn’t care “You are a fucking marvel.”
“What the fuck are you on about? Are you drunk? High?”
Rick laughed. God, he wanted to kiss that man.
The thought came out of nowhere, but it rang true. Still, Rick resisted the impulse. He didn’t want to freak either of them out, which was probably bound to happen if they didn’t take the time to talk about whatever was happening between them, and he had a feeling Daryl might appreciate being asked before Rick pounced on him like some kind of caveman. So, instead, Rick rested his forehead against Daryl’s and smiled when he felt him lean into the touch.
“No,” Rick finally answered, then added, “You never told me you helped a girl change her tire a couple weeks ago.”
“Didn’t help change it,” Daryl corrected with a quiet huff of laughter, “Changed it for her. Guess I forgot.”
Rick hummed softly.
“So,” Daryl said, shifting the deer slightly on his shoulders, “Not to be a buzzkill, but this thing ain’t exactly light. Mind lettin’ me put it down before you explain why you’re actin’ all weird? ”
“Right, sorry,” Rick chuckled, stepping back. He quickly fetched Daryl a cup of coffee before joining him behind the house where they’d set up an area to process the game.
“Alright, hit me,” Daryl said once he started working on the deer, “What happened?”
“A guy stopped by,” Rick began, then launched into the whole story with a shit-eating grin. He tried to share his excitement, but by the time he finished, it was obvious Daryl wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about the fact a job was waiting for him a few towns over.
Rick tried to make him see what a good opportunity it could be, but Daryl only seemed to retreat further into himself. By the end of the conversation, he was hunched over, with his head down, hair falling forward to hide his face - a sure sign he was uncomfortable. When Rick tried asking what was wrong, Daryl shied away from him, and, once he was done with the meat, disappeared into the house without a word.
When Rick went back inside a few minutes later, he could hear Daryl moving around upstairs in the bathroom before the shower turned on. Rick frowned, wondering what was wrong, and hoped they could sort the matter quickly. It had been a while since they’d been so uneasy with one another and Rick didn’t want the tension to last.
He let out a deep sigh, rolled his shoulders and decided to give Daryl some space. Maybe he just needed time to calm down and sort through whatever was bothering him. Instead, Rick headed into the kitchen, dropped the three skinned squirrels on the counter and pulled out a large stockpot to make stew. Daryl hadn’t eaten all day, and Rick himself had only grabbed a quick bite at midday, so an early dinner seemed like a good idea.
He would’ve liked to make something nice - celebratory - to eat deer for once instead of squirrel or opossum, maybe even beef if they felt bold enough to dip into the freezer stock - but Daryl’s odd mood had quashed Rick’s enthusiasm. So he settled for a simple stew with mashed potatoes, peas and canned peaches for dessert.
By the time he set the pot to simmer, Daryl still hadn’t come back downstairs - hadn’t even left the bathroom if Rick wasn’t mistaken. Worry started to gnaw at him. He gave Daryl another half hour, time Rick spent pacing restlessly in the kitchen, before heading upstairs and knocking on the bathroom’s door. Daryl didn’t answer.
“Daryl?” Rick tried again, “You alright? You don’t normally spend this long in the bathroom.”
“Fine,” Daryl grunted after a few seconds. He didn’t open the door, didn’t rise to Rick’s teasing, not even with a muttered curse, and Rick felt his stomach drop.
“Come on, open up. You can’t spend the whole evening hiding in the bathroom.”
“Fuck you. I ain’t hiding.”
“Alright,” Rick agreed, relieved to hear some spirit back in his voice, “Then you won’t mind watching the stew while I take a shower?”
It took Daryl another few seconds to grumble out his agreement. He ducked his head when he passed Rick in the hallway, still looking tense and miserable, but at least he didn’t look like he’d been crying and, more importantly, he let Rick squeeze his shoulder in passing instead of twisting away from him.
Rick was half-convinced he’d find the bathroom all steamed up, but he was wrong. Daryl had tidied up - his towel was hanging on the rack and there was no hair left in the drain - and there wasn’t a single clue as to what he’d been doing in there before Rick finally managed to coax him out. Rick shook his head and hurried through his own shower before heading back downstairs.
He found Daryl pacing in the kitchen and chewing on his nails, so Rick sent him to the living room to lie down, hoping a nap might calm him down.
“Ain’t tired,” Daryl complained when Rick physically steered him through the kitchen’s door, “I can help.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rick said, squeezing his bicep, “I’ve got it.”
“But…”
“Go take a nap, Daryl. I’ll wake you up when dinner’s ready.”
His partner shot him a quick dirty look before dragging his feet to the living room and Rick watched him go with a worried frown. Dinner preparations didn’t take long, the stew was still simmering, Daryl had already peeled the potatoes while Rick was in the shower, and the peas could wait a little longer.
Once the table was set and the potatoes were boiling, Rick peeked into the living room and was pleased to find Daryl taking a nap on the couch. So much for not being tired, Rick thought fondly, and gently draped a blanket over Daryl's body. Slowly, he brushed a finger across his forehead, pushing the hair out of his face.
Then Rick took a step back and simply looked at Daryl. At his rising chest, his relaxed face and the hands he kept curled up against his chest. He was cute. The thought made Rick blush and he quickly retreated to the kitchen before he did something stupid.
He must’ve spent longer watching Daryl than he realized because the potatoes were nearly done and the stew smelled delicious - despite the squirrels - much better now they had spices than before, on the road, where eating had been about survival. Rick quickly heated the peas and added butter and milk to the drained potatoes before mashing everything into a puree. Once he was satisfied with the meal, he went back to the living room to wake up Daryl.
Daryl didn’t wake up swinging, he only tensed at first, then went lax when he realized it was Rick’s hand on his shoulder. As usual, warmth spread low through Rick’s stomach at the sheer amount of trust Daryl placed in him. He smiled.
“Thought you said you weren’t tired?” Rick teased.
“Fuck off,” Daryl grumbled back, trying to glare at Rick. The effect was ruined somewhat by his sleep-mussed hair and the way he was rubbing at his eyes.
“Come on,” Rick said instead of taking the bait, “Dinner’s ready.”
“Right. Coming,” Daryl pushed himself upright, his stomach audibly growling.
They settled at the table quickly, and Rick was relieved to note that, for the moment at least, Daryl’s uneasiness seemed to have faded. He was still a little grumpy, but he’d sat down next to Rick without hesitation and kept pressing their thighs together beneath the table, their arms brushing now and then as they ate.
“Why do you keep bringing back squirrels anyway?” Rick grumbled after a while, picking a tiny bone from his mouth.
“Old times’ sake,” Daryl smirked, spitting his own bone onto his plate, while Rick wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes.
“Manners,” Rick sighed. Daryl only smirked wider.
“Anyway. I’d appreciate deer once in a while. Or wild boar. Venison steaks,” Rick dreamed and then whined a little, “Why can’t I get a good juicy steak, Daryl? Am I not worth it?”
“Cause you ain’t paying for it,” Daryl shot back without missing a beat.
“Harsh, but fair,” Rick snorted. Better to save the good meat for their customers. Rick couldn’t even imagine the looks they’d get trying to sell squirrels to people.
“I’ll try to bring back some bird next week,” Daryl said, squeezing Rick’s thigh, “Be a nice change.”
It would, Rick thought and smiled at Daryl. They finished dinner in companionable silence and slight stickiness due to the canned fruit. Once they were done, they washed the dishes together, put the leftovers away and loaded the stove for the night. A quick tour of the house to check the locks and windows, then Rick found himself alone in the living room.
He’d half-expected they’d end the day with a quick game of cards, but Daryl had disappeared without a word. Rick found him upstairs, pacing in the bedroom, looking just as troubled as before. He took a few minutes to wash up in the bathroom, then returned and sat down on the edge of the bed, quietly watching Daryl pace.
“Alright,” Rick finally said after a long minute, “Out with it. What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing.”
“Sure. And I’m Santa.”
Daryl shot him a dark look and Rick glared right back. He’d backed off earlier, but he wasn’t going to now, not if something was eating at Daryl this badly.
“Daryl. Talk to me,” Rick said, and when firmness didn’t work, he added more softly, “Please.”
At least Daryl stopped pacing, but now he looked tense and defensive again. He was turned away from Rick with his shoulders hunched, hair hanging forward to hide his face and hands balled into fists. Rick even thought he might be trembling a bit.
“It’s about the job,” Rick guessed quietly after a few seconds, when it became obvious Daryl wasn’t going to break the silence.
“Course it’s about the damn job,” Daryl bit out, kicking the wall with his foot.
“Hey,” Rick said gently, getting up and wrapping his arms around Daryl.
For a second, Rick thought Daryl would push him off. Instead, he sagged against him with a shaky breath and hugged back.
“Hey,” Rick repeated gently, his lips brushing Daryl’s hair, “We don’t need the job that badly.”
It was a lie. They needed the job that badly, but it wasn’t worth shit if it sent Daryl spiralling. Rick would rather stay poor than watch Daryl fall apart over a damn garage job.
“Don’t lie to me,” Daryl mumbled against his neck, “We need it.”
“Not if it makes you miserable. We’ve been… managing so far. And we’ll keep managing. Something else will come along eventually.”
“I ain’t miserable,” Daryl mumbled.
Rick huffed softly.
“Well… You sure look like it.”
“I’m fine. It’s just… It’s complicated, alright?”
Rick hummed and gently guided Daryl toward the bed. They sat down side by side without a word, and Rick reached over to take Daryl’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Okay,” Rick said quietly after a moment, brushing his thumb over Daryl’s knuckles, “Can you tell me why?”
“I… It’s… I don’t… Fuck,” Daryl swallowed hard, unable to find the right words to explain himself. Then, he let out a small annoyed grunt and tiredly ran a hand over his face. Trying to be understanding, but also hoping to prevent Daryl from fleeing again, Rick tightened his hold on Daryl’s hand.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Rick reassured him, “But I’d like to understand. Please.”
Daryl nodded. He took a deep breath and suddenly the words spilled out.
“I’ve never really had a job,” Daryl said quietly, staring down at his knees, clenching and unclenching his free hand. “A steady one, I mean.”
Rick hummed softly and kept quiet, intently listening to Daryl.
“I think… I think the longest I’ve ever kept a job was… four days. Maybe five.” He let out a dry little laugh. “Definitely less than a week.”
“Alright,” Rick said after Daryl fell silent, “What happened?”
“Picked a fight with some guy,” Daryl admitted with an unhappy chuckle, “Boss sent me home right after. I was a fucking idiot back then. People… There aren’t a lot of people lining up to hire stupid redneck trash…”
“Hey!” Rick snapped immediately, “Don’t talk about yourself like that! You are not stupid, and you sure as hell ain’t trash.”
Daryl only waved him off.
“No point pretendin’ otherwise. I know what I am .”
“Daryl…”
“Alright,” Daryl sighed, “Maybe not stupid, but that’s still how people see me.”
And before Rick could argue again, Daryl kept going.
“I don’t have a degree. I barely went to school, then dropped out at sixteen. I don’t know how to keep a job, I don’t have references and the less said about my social skills, the better.”
By the end of his rant, Daryl sounded bitter. And yes, when Daryl laid it all out like that, things sounded pretty bleak, but Daryl was so much more than a failed education and rough disposition. Rick just needed him to see that too.
“Alright,” Rick said quietly before raising Daryl’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “I get why you’re scared, I do, but Daryl, you’re forgetting a few important things here.”
Rick squeezed Daryl’s hand.
“You work harder than anybody I know. You’re resourceful, capable, kind. You don’t need a fucking degree to prove your worth.”
Daryl shot him a skeptical look and Rick huffed.
“Okay, fine, a degree probably would help,” Rick conceded. That earned him a snort from Daryl and Rick smiled. “But you’re not worth less because you don’t have one. Will it be harder because you don’t have one? Probably. But I know for a damn fucking fact you can do the job just as well — if not better — than someone with a mechanical degree. You just need somebody willing to give you a chance. And apparently this Matt Burner guy is willing to do exactly that.”
Daryl hunched over a little bit more, and something in Rick’s chest twisted painfully at the sight. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around Daryl’s shoulders and waited quietly for him to process everything he’d just said.
“You really think…” Daryl hesitated. “You think I’ve got a shot? That I could actually make it work?”
“I know you do,” Rick said, but Daryl still looked unconvinced so Rick kept going. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. You’ll probably have to step out of your comfort zone, socialize…” - here, Rick grinned - “... but you can do it. I know you can.”
Daryl nodded slowly before shrugging off Rick’s arm and flopping back onto the bed. He sighed and put his arm over his eyes.
“A job,” Daryl muttered, “I’m gonna get a job. Fucking unbelievable.”
“More or less than the dead coming back to life?”
“More,” Daryl answered immediately, “The dead actually came back to life before I ever got a job. Or…”
He waved a hand vaguely through the air.
“You know what I mean.”
Rick smiled. He did know. He nudged Daryl over until he ended up lying down on his side of the bed, then crawled over him to reach his own spot. He’d barely settled down when Daryl spoke again.
“Merle would laugh his ass off if he was here.”
Rick opened his mouth and just as quickly closed it again. Yeah, he was not touching that with a ten-foot pole. Daryl’s relationship with his brother had always been complicated, to say the least, and Rick had barely tolerated the guy on a good day. He definitely didn’t feel qualified to unpack whatever this was supposed to be. But then who was Daryl supposed to talk to about it? Rick sighed tiredly and dropped his head on his pillow.
“Because you’re panicking?” Rick asked as he slipped under the covers.
“I ain’t panicking,” Daryl grumbled, tugging off his socks.
“Anymore.”
“Asshole.”
Daryl climbed under the covers beside him and immediately shoved his freezing feet against Rick’s legs.
“You’re the asshole,” Rick hissed, trying and failing to keep his feet safe from Daryl’s ice blocks, “Fuck, you’re freezing.”
“I know,” Daryl replied smugly, “And you’re running hot.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Rick rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it.
“You know, I think…,” Daryl said quietly in the dark, having just turned off the light, “I think Merle would laugh at me for the job.”
A curse almost left Rick’s mouth, but he swallowed it down. He wanted to offer to deck Merle in his stupid face if he ever showed up, but before he could figure out whether that would upset Daryl, his friend kept going.
“And he wouldn’t exactly be wrong about it.”
“He would.”
“But it is laughable.”
“No, it’s not,” Rick disagreed hotly, “You’re good, Daryl. Everything I’ve ever seen you put your mind to, you pulled off. I already told you, but I can say it again…”
“Please don’t.”
Rick ignored him.
“You’re hardworking. You’re kind. You’re…
“Oh my God, shut up,” Daryl cut him off, slapping his chest. “I get it, I’m amazing. I don’t need to hear you listing all my supposed qualities.”
“Your qualities, period.”
“What?”
“You have qualities,” Rick explained, “And none of them are hypothetical.”
“Rick?” Daryl asked after a few seconds.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
Maybe Rick had pushed a little too hard. He knew Daryl didn’t like attracting attention and that compliments tended to make him uncomfortable, even if he deserved them.
“Alright,” Rick agreed, nudging Daryl’s shoulder, “Turn around.”
Daryl did so with a confused grumble and, for the first time since they started sleeping pressed together, Rick spooned up behind him. At first, Daryl froze, so Rick patiently waited for him to relax before sliding an arm around his waist.
“This is new,” Daryl commented, sounding stiff and awkward.
“Good new or bad new?”
“Tolerable new.”
Rick couldn’t help it, he snorted.
“We can switch if you don’t like it,” Rick offered.
“No, it’s fine,” Daryl muttered. He quickly grabbed Rick’s hand and brought it back up to rest against his beating heart, making Rick grin.
Then Rick decided to steal a page from Daryl’s book. Gently, he blew Daryl’s hair away and kissed the nape of his neck. He felt Daryl shiver in his arms and smiled against his skin.
“Alright?” Rick asked, his voice low in the dark.
“Yeah… Yeah. It’s… fine,” Daryl answered, sounding slightly strangled.
“Ringing endorsement. I’m touched.”
“Rick?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t be a smartass.”
Once again Rick was afraid he’d pushed too far, but Daryl wiggled around until he got comfortable, then leaned back against him. No words were exchanged, but Rick relaxed when he felt Daryl squeeze his hand and burrow deeper under the covers.
Without really thinking about it, Rick dropped another kiss on Daryl’s nape, then another and another until he lost count. He was half-asleep by the time he finally stopped and accidentally brushed his stubbled jaw against the soft skin of Daryl’s nape. He was ready to apologize, but Daryl didn’t berate him. He just sucked in a sharp breath, tightened his hold on Rick’s hand and pressed himself back more firmly against him.
They were truly curled up together now, not an inch of space between them, and Rick desperately wanted to draw another shiver out of Daryl. Usually, Daryl was the one spooning and teasing him, kissing his nape or the soft skin beneath his ear, slipping a hand under his shirt and stroking his belly until Rick shivered and sighed and - on one or two memorable occasions - got hard.
Fuck, maybe Rick shouldn’t be thinking about his Daryl induced hard-ons right now, he didn’t want to get a boner, at least not one he couldn’t hide. He should stop, close his eyes and go to sleep. But… for once, now that Rick was holding Daryl, he wanted to reverse their roles. Wanted to tease him, feel Daryl cling to him and maybe - if he got lucky - draw a few more sounds out of him.
So Rick decided to fuck it and blew on Daryl's nape again. Then, gently, slowly, he rubbed his stubbled jaw against his skin. The effect was immediate. A full-body shiver ran through Daryl. Rick smiled. And dragged his stubble against Daryl's nape again. He kept going for another minute, listening to Daryl’s quickening breath, enjoying the way Daryl alternately tightened and loosened his grip on Rick’s hand and the way he squirmed against him. It was fun being the one in control for once.
“Rick…” Daryl finally said breathlessly, “Stop. Just stop.”
“You alright?”
“Yeah. Just… Just.”
“I know,” Rick soothed him softly. “I know.”
Teasing Daryl had been fun, but Rick didn't want to freak him out. So he kissed Daryl’s nape one last time, squeezed his hand and put his head back onto the pillow. He felt Daryl relax in his arms and they settled down in silence.
“Night,” Rick mumbled, closing his eyes.
“Goodnight.”
“Don't forget we're sleeping in tomorrow.”
“Rick.”
“Sleeping in, Daryl,” Rick grumbled. “Wake me up at your own risk.”
“Fine,” Daryl sighed, sounding deeply put-upon for someone being allowed to sleep late on a Sunday. Rick smiled.
“You won't regret it.”
“If you say so,” Daryl muttered, disgruntled.
“You'll like it, you'll see,” Rick whispered, half-asleep already.
Daryl mumbled something under his breath that Rick didn't catch. He tried to answer, but he was so tired his words came out slurred, and if he didn't know what he was saying anymore, Daryl probably didn't either. He felt Daryl pat his hand, smiled, slurred another quiet goodnight and drifted off to sleep, fully intending to enjoy both his night and his sleep-in.