Good Lord, it was hot. Daryl paused from nailing a support beam into the rafter he was working on to wipe a bead of sweat away from his eye. He'd always thought the Georgian heat waves were insufferable but those days seemed like a happy memory compared to the sweltering temperatures he'd experienced since moving to Australia.
It'd been all Merle's fault of course. Most of the trouble Daryl got into in his entire life could be traced back to his older brother. They hadn't skipped the States because the older Dixon had broken the law. This time, Merle had done far, far worse.
This time, he'd gone and slept with the wrong woman. It wasn't unusual for Merle Dixon to get in trouble because of a piece of ass. There had been many times Daryl had driven the getaway car while the daddy of some young thing that Merle had been putting it to chased them off his land while aiming a shotgun at the brothers' Dixon. But this time was different. This time, Merle went and slept with a judge's wife. No sooner was the cat out of the bag then Merle and Daryl had packed their shit and were on the first flight out of the country. It may have seemed an overreaction to some, but this particular judge was known to take the law into his own hands. More than one man who'd messed with the old man's much younger wife had ended up on the tail end of a 'hunting accident.'
When Merle had told Daryl they were hightailing it out and far away from Georgia the younger Dixon had simply nodded his head and fallen into line with the plan. His entire life, Daryl had done exactly what Merle had told him to do. The two were a package deal. Where one went the other followed. It was always Daryl doing the following though. Now, he had followed his brother further than ever before.
This time, Merle came up with the brilliant idea that the Dixon brothers were moving to Australia. So now here they were, working crappy construction jobs in a country that had turned into a nation-wide sauna over the last few days. Three continuous days of sweltering heat made Daryl feel like they had taken up residence in Hell instead of another country.
Considering Merle's penchant for married woman, Daryl was pretty certain his brother was headed further south than the sunburnt country. Much further south.
The heatwave had taken its toll on the other guys on the construction crew. Most had checked out with only a half-day's work when the heat got too much on Friday. But Daryl couldn't afford to get fired from this job so he had stayed all day. He and Merle needed this money to survive. He was the only one to show up on that following Sunday morning for work. His brother was down at the local bar…no, pub. That's what they called bar's here. There was so much to get used to, so many cultural differences, Daryl couldn't help but feel a pang of homesickness for his beloved Georgia. He was back in the States there was no way he'd be working on Sunday morning. He'd be out in the forest hunting.
Here Daryl couldn't go hunting for deer in the woods. As he'd fast learnt, deer hunting wasn't going to happen down under. Here they had kangaroos and emus and all other kinds of freaky looking shit. And it was a crime to go hunting for those animals here. What a fucking joke! If Daryl had known hunting was off the agenda he never would have followed his big brother half-way round the world to this God-forsaken place.
Daryl never thought he'd find himself admitting it but he missed Georgia. He longed for a taste of home.
Another bead of sweat ran down his face, lazily trickling into his eye. It was hotter than the inside of a furnace today. And this shit was normal too! He was thankful that at least he was working in the shade provided under the patio extension.
He'd been the only guy to turn up that Sunday morning. It wasn't the soaring temperatures that had kept the other guys on the crew away though. Today was Australia Day. Daryl didn't know much about the national holiday other than it was apparently a day you got drunk and celebrated how great this red-hot excuse of a country was.
The fact that it was a nation-wide day for patriotism made Daryl long for the familiar woods of Georgia even more. Merle had tried to convince him to take the day off but Daryl wouldn't listen. The last thing he wanted to do was watch his brother get shit-faced drunk and hit on every girl that crossed his path at the pub. So Daryl had opted to come out to the suburbs and continue working on the patio extension he'd been involved with for a week now.
The owner of the house wasn't going to be there that day. He'd heard her tell the foreman she'd be stuck on-call at the city ER all weekend. Daryl had never been formally introduced to her, but he'd watched her from afar many times. The first morning he'd arrived for work he'd caught sight of her soft smile as she spoke to his foreman about the renovations she wanted doing. He hadn't meant to stare when he'd first laid eyes on her but he couldn't help it. He'd never seen such a beautiful woman before in his life. She had short silver hair and the bluest eyes he'd even seen. Every so often she'd come out and leave a tray of drinks or a plate of sandwiches for the workers. She never spoke to them, just slipped outside and left the food or drinks on a corner table out of the way. She was the sort of woman Daryl would never have a shot with in his life. She was a good respectable woman. A caring woman.
He'd heard the other guys refer to her as Carol. Apparently she'd been married, but her husband had died in a drunk-driving accident. Daryl had watched with thinly-veiled disgust one morning as Merle dropped his hammer, sauntered over to the woman then proceeded to lay every pick-up line in the book on her. The thing about the older Dixon was that he had a way with woman. They seemed to fall for his particular brand of bullshit without a moment's hesitation. But Carol had been different. Daryl had watched with amusement as Merle struck out time and time again with her. Eventually she'd excused herself to go to work, leaving Merle with the first case of rejection he'd ever encountered in his life. He'd grumbled something under his breath about her being a 'damned rug muncher' when he passed by Daryl.
The younger Dixon had been unable to control the chuckle from escaping his mouth when he heard the sulking tone of Merle's voice. It had been the first thing to make him laugh since they'd arrived in Australia.
Truth be told, Daryl wasn't working just because he needed the money. He wasn't even getting paid to be there today. He'd noticed one of the guys did a shitty job of securing the overhead beams on Friday. Daryl wanted to make sure the lady got the quality of work done that she paid for. She took the time to look after the guys by providing drinks and food, the least Daryl could do was make sure she got decent workmanship. And he was making damn sure a good job was being done. He owed her for the laugh too.
Watching Merle embarrass himself trying to get into her pants had been the highlight of Daryl's week. When it was hotter than Hell it was hard to find anything amusing, but Carol had simultaneously provided the younger Dixon with entertainment and manager to deliver a blow to his brother's over-inflated ego. With the heat sweltering like it had been in the past week, any form of distraction was welcome. Merle failing at trying to pick up a woman had been just what the doctor ordered, but even that memory still wasn't enough to keep Daryl from feeling the effects of the heatwave that Sunday. Sweat had been pouring down his back all morning like a damned gushing river, making the wife-beater he wore absolutely drenched. In an attempt to keep cool he'd already shed his sleeveless flannel shirt as soon as he got to Carol's house but that wasn't enough. The cotton of his wife-beater clung to his body and it was annoying as hell. Every time he moved an inch, every twist he made with his torso in an attempt to secure another beam overheard made the saturated fabric stick like glue to his skin.
Daryl tried to ignore the sweat and the heat but it got too much. Finally the combination of the sweltering temperatures and the frustration at the offending covering proved too annoying for him to bear any longer. He tore the undergarment off over his head and hurled it forcefully to the ground. The air that hit his exposed chest was hot and stifling. For a moment he regretted his plan to help the owner of the house on a day like today. There was every chance he'd pass out from heat exhaustion if he kept this shit up.
He stepped off the ladder he'd been using, intent on getting something to drink. Looking around, it dawned on Daryl that he hadn't thought to bring anything with him today. Carol always made sure the workers got everything they needed. He cast his gaze around the garden, wondering if he should just pack it in. He only had a couple of more beams to fix and he'd be done. He could leave it for now and just call it a day, but the thought of returning to the shoebox of an apartment he and Merle were renting was not very appealing.
It didn't help that the lack of air conditioning made the tiny two-by-one hotter inside that outside. The place was a shithole but it was cheap and at least it was a roof over their heads.
There wasn't much to find in the woman's backyard as he scanned the area but finally his eyes fell on the garden hose coiled in a heap down by the back fence. It wouldn't be the same as the ice-cold beverages Carol brought out on a daily basis earlier in the week but it was better than dying of heat stroke he figured.
Daryl crossed the yard and turned on the hose, waiting patiently for the hot water spurting forth to finally run cooler. After a minute the temperature dropped enough to make it tolerable and he latched his lips onto the plastic, guzzling at the liquid greedily. The water that hit his tongue was unpleasantly warm and once again his was reminded of his much loved Georgia. There was no telling when Merle would have his fill of Oz and decided there was no place like home. Until then, Daryl was stuck here in the fucking heat.
As he drank his thoughts drifted back to the owner of the house. All week he'd been consumed with thoughts and fantasies starring her. Carol was fast turning out to be the best thing about this escape-to-another-country plan. He'd tried to deny it, but he was attracted to her; more attracted than he'd been to any other woman before. Any time he had a free moment or he caught sight of her outside delivering another welcomed tray of food Daryl couldn't help but picture her in a pure white nurses' uniform. He knew it made him a creep just like his older brother, fantasising about a decent woman like her in a naughty nurses outfit complete with white stilettos. But try as he might to control his thought's Daryl's mind always conjured up an image of the beautiful woman in the cliché outfit with the little white cap nestled on her head and stethoscope 'round her neck.
He bet she looked real cute in her nurses' outfit.
The redneck shook his head, trying to dislodge the image that had formed there once again. He didn't think Carol would look cute in a nurses uniform at all.
He bet she'd look sexy as all hell dressed like that.
He had this one particular fantasy that had started popping into his head every night for the past week. He imagined he'd cut himself on the job and she was looking after him. She'd patch him up, leaning over him and crushing her breasts into his arm as she applied stitches. Her nipples would harden when they came in contact with the muscles on his bicep. Every time she leant forward he'd get a good view straight down her dress as she worked to make him feel all better.
Good Lord, how he wanted that woman to make him feel allbetter all over.
Next Daryl would slip a hand under her skirt, sliding his palm upwards against the smooth skin of her thigh. When he'd reach the curve of her ass there were never any panties in his way. Carol was a very naughty nurse in his fantasies. He'd always squeeze her ass once before letting his hand trail around her hip to land on freshly shaved skin of her-
Daryl shook his head again, sending droplets of sweat flying out across the yard. There was no use thinking of Carol like that. She was a good woman and he was just a dirty construction worker. A tradie they called them here. Whatever the Australian's called it Daryl would always be nothing more than a Dixon and Dixon's didn't get to think about nice women like Carol like that. She deserved better than to be the star in some white-trash hick's fantasies.
Once he'd drunk his fill Daryl lifted the hose above his head and let the water shower down over him in an effort to distract himself about thoughts of the pretty homeowner. The water washed over him, trickling down his exposed chest and soaking into the ripped workpants he was still wearing. Closing his eyes for a moment, Daryl savoured the refreshing sensation provided by the liquid. Too late though he realized his mistake. His impromptu shower while still half-dressed had led to his pants becoming completely saturated. There was no way he could get back to work on those beams like this, not when he was using a nail gun that ran off the mains power.
Water and electricity did not mix. Everyone in the trade knew that basic rule.
Sighing with frustration at his stupidity, Daryl dropped the hose and turned off the water supply. He stomped his way back to the house, thinking about how he could fix this situation. He didn't exactly carry a change of clothes with him in the back of his truck…Ute. Damned Aussie's called trucks Ute's here. Everything in the God-forsaken desert country was something else.
There was no way he was calling it a day just because of a little water. There was only one thing to do if he wanted to finish up his fix-it project at Carol's house today before she got home from work and found him there. He was not going to sit around- naked as the day he was born- waiting for some laundry to dry.
Quickly Daryl unbuckled his belt and started to shed himself of his jeans. The denim stuck to his legs in a very uncomfortable way before he succeeded in pulling them off entirely. As much as he wanted to throw the unco-operative piece of shit up on the roof and forget about them Daryl restrained himself, instead laying the pants out flat on the grass to dry. By the time he finished up on those beams the jeans would be wearable again and he would sneak out of there before the lady with the pretty blue eyes got home.
After about another hour of work the beams were finally fixed to Daryl's satisfaction. Working in nothing but his boxer's and a pair of boots hadn't been near as uncomfortable as he'd thought it would be. Daryl wasn't stupid enough to continue work without his boots on. He might be a redneck but he wasn't a dumbass. His boss probably be too thrilled if he heard Daryl was working without protective foot covering. Mind you, the boss probably wouldn't take too kindly to hearing that Daryl turned up uninvited to a client's house on a Sunday and proceeded to work practically naked.
Daryl had slipped his now dry jeans back on and was clearing away his tools when he heard the whooshing sound of a glass door being pulled open behind him.
"Finished?" a soft voice rang out across the patio.
Shit! Carol was home early. Daryl had never said two words to the woman and now he had to explain what the fuck he was doing in her backyard, standing there without a shirt on. She was going to call the cops on him and he'd get arrested. Hell, he'd get fired when his boss heard about this.
How the fuck did Daryl talk himself out of the pile of shit he'd just landed up in?
A/N: Firstly, thank you all for giving this a try. I know this is a different idea so stay with me here. This originated from a little tumblr thing involving a photo of a tradie standing in nothing but a pair of boxers and wearing work boots while he worked on an overheard beam. Someone requested a smutty Caryl scenario be written to fit this photo so here we are. Chapter two will be pure smut just to warn you all. As an Australian I thought I'd try writing the Oz Caryl request, but I couldn't see fit to turn Daryl in to a bogan, hence why he and Merle fled the States (my apologies if you're unfamiliar with the use of the word bogan). Thanks for giving this a chance and I hope you enjoy chapter two. Those of you familiar with my work know I write incredibly slowly. The first chapter was written in the space of four hours. I cannot stress how OOC it is for me to write something that quickly. I apologise if this piece isn't to me usual writing standard. I wanted it uploaded before Australia Day was over. Coming soon: Chapter two... (seriously, the wait won't be that long for a change. I'm feeling inspired!)