It seemed stupid really. Surrounded by walkers in a rundown old shack with barely a pot to piss in between them and yet Daryl was smiling. Grinning. Like a total idiot. His hair slick with grease and a cooling sheen of sweat ghosting over his forehead. It was hot and sticky and the hastily barricaded door that kept him and Paul shielded from the ravenous hoard banged and creaked and shuddered precariously, only a breath away from where they were laying. Yet it didn't even seem to matter, not when Paul was grinning up at him; his beanie lost somewhere in the dust and the odd breathy laugh that made Daryl's stupid fucking smile even bigger.

In the back of his mind Daryl knew that they shouldn't be here, doing this. They should have been on their feet; weapons drawn and their guard up. Throwing everything they could at the door to keep it strong, to keep the walkers out until they could escape or were recovered enough to fight their way back to Rick and Michonne in the next town over. There were a hundred and one things that he should have been doing instead of grinning at a man that called himself Jesus for god sake. But he wasn't and he wasn't even angry about it; didn't even seem to care that this could be his final moment. Not while he had Paul tucked safely underneath him, those horrible puppy dog eyes wide and hopefully fixated on Daryl. Looking at him as if this was exactly where he wanted to be.

If this was going to be Daryl's final moment, the last thing he would see before being killed he wanted to be selfish and take it for all it was worth. Just once he wanted to have something because he wanted it—fuck the apocalypse.

Daryl watched as Pauls attention momentarily slipped from him and over to where the door groaned and heaved under the pressure, enough that the cabinet screeched along the floor just a few more inches. He watched as the younger swallowed thickly and could see Pauls' brain coming back online slowly—their time was almost up. Either Jesus would shove him off and kick him in the teeth or they were both about to become the undead's newest recruits.

Either way Daryl could feel it slipping away from him.

"The door?" Paul asked quietly turning his attention back up at Daryl when he rubbed the pad of his thumb against Jesus' cheek—attempting to draw his gaze away from what he could only picture was a maddening display of rotten teeth and dirty claws.

"Will hold for another ten minute, 'pending on how bad they knock." Daryl answered, his own attention a little more focused now. His thumb fell away from Paul's cheek and he almost lost his train of thought again when it looked like Jesus was trying to chase the touch.

"Ten minutes is a long time." Paul tried smiling as he curled his hands into the dark denim of Daryl's jeans when he attempted to pull away—a careful invite for Daryl to stay. To just let them have more time and Daryl wanted to; he wanted to stay there as long as he was allowed. Be selfish and keep Paul to himself.

Christ if Merle could see him now. He'd have dragged Daryl up off that floor and covered him head to toe in bruises and cuts before turning on Paul. He'd have spat and hissed and called them both every foul name he could think of. His posture must have changed because suddenly Paul was pulling at his jeans and whispering his name and Daryl had to push that thought away before it took over him. Before he relapsed back into the asshole he'd been at the start.

An asshole that would have punched Paul in the face for just looking at him queer.

"Not long enough." Daryl answered, strained slightly as he rolled his hips just enough to ease some of the pressure he was putting onto Pauls lower half, the movement making Pauls' hands fall from his hips and back onto the floor.

That insane fog of romanticised fantasy cleared as his survival instincts kicked in and if he felt like an idiot before he felt even more stupid now. They probably could have been out by now, half way back to the car with their supplied in hand and Paul making some wise crack about them almost being Walker chow again. But instead Daryl had kept them both pinned to the floor staring doe-eyed at something he wanted but couldn't have like a love-sick teenager.

"We're probably going to get eaten you know." Paul started, startling Daryl with just how casual he sounded about the whole thing. "I mean they'll get you first, I might get away while their chomping down on your foot or something." He teased and Daryl couldn't help but laugh at him. "Really if you look at it you have nothing to lose right now." He whispered this time, his hand cautiously settling back on Daryl's waist and his face a silent invitation that Daryl just couldn't read.

"What ya talking about?"

"I'm just saying that… that if you wanted to kiss me right now you wouldn't lose anything." Paul stated and Daryl would have laughed at the little blush on Jesus' cheeks if he didn't feel all hot under the collar himself. "You kiss me and get eaten and I survive who is going to believe me? Alternatively, you kiss me and we both die and no one would even know we were trapped here together."

"What if I kiss ya and we both survive?"

"Unlikely given the circumstances but if you did and we did. I don't think I could live with only having the one kiss." Paul whispered, his eyes wide and mouth parted slightly. "I'd have to have more. I'm greedy like that."

"Me to." Daryl answered honestly. Studying Pauls' face for a second for anything that would help; a twitch or something to help make Daryl make the right choice.

To let Daryl know that this wasn't Pauls' way of teasing him.

"Fuck it," Daryl breathed leaning down just enough to seal their lips together in a soft kiss that didn't even last long enough to be considered intimate. A barely there brush of lips that made him feel giddy and pathetic all in the same second.

Opening his eyes Daryl studied the man underneath him, their noses still touching and their lips parted enough to share the same breath and when Paul opened his eyes and smiled at him like the cat that got the fucking canary, Daryl couldn't stop himself from framing Pauls face in his hands and kissing him again.

This time more urgent, less chaste and needier—like he was pushing everything he couldn't say into Paul's mouth. Pauls hands twisted and curled into his jeans and Daryl stroked and licked his way into Jesus' mouth, tasting dirt and candy and desperation. Wanting to commit it to memory but unable to control the need to kiss and claim and just have. Have there all to himself on the floor of a run-down shack. Daryl wasn't sure who made a noise first or if it even mattered, stroking his hand down to the back of Paul's neck in a hurried clash of teeth and tongue. Giving himself over to Paul in a way that he'd never wanted to before—completely oblivious to the world around them.

Of the shit storm still pushing at the door.

Paul kissed back just as feverishly almost kneading at Daryl's hips as he pulled and begged for this to last just a few seconds longer- a life time longer. Panting and moaning low in the back of his throat as they pulled away for air, Paul barely had chance to whine over the lost contact before Daryl was with him again. Hurried and desperate his tongue fighting with Paul's and his hands insistent but gentle; it was hot and heavy and made Daryl's head spin but it was more than that, it was longing and regret and everything Daryl had ever wanted.

Too caught up in one another, Daryl couldn't hear the gun shot over the haze. Could barely recognise his name falling from lips other than the ones underneath him—the mouth that opened willingly and welcomed him; wanted him. Too caught up in the sensation to even care that the door was almost open and that the pressure on the other side was different, not as powerful.

"Daryl!? Jesus? You guys in there? Daryl!" Ricks voice.

Daryl's eyes flew open and he pulled back slowly, mouth still open and his eyes still on Paul as the other chased after his mouth and pulled at him. "Rick." He stated suddenly and Paul would have cried in that moment had he not heard it too between breaths.

"Daryl, what's going on are you both alright?" Rick again, the pounding at the door was his shoulder and Daryl could barely breath never mind answer, he just stared at Jesus and Jesus at him because they were both going to make it out of this.

"I guess you do have something to lose." Paul whispered softly a tease of uncertainty in his voice.

"Nah, I'm greedy remember." Daryl answered leaning in to kiss him again.