Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead comic series or television series.
[{[A/N: I needed it. Idk. The ending is kind of shit.]}]
Pairing: Rickyl; Daryl/Rick;
Warning: Daryl-centric
Rated: T
xxx
Daryl knows he can't survive on his own. Joe pointed it out the second they were alone fer Christ's sake. He knows that it's temporary and that it's necessary.
Don't mean he gotta like it.
Joe keeps sayin' something. These coupla words that keep pouring out his mouth like vomit and it's making Daryl sick. "Guys like us…" and "Guys like us…" over and over again like a fuckin' mantra that won't shut up.
It spews into the air every time the damn guy gets a minute with Daryl. And every time he says it, Daryl gets a little more pissed at him.
He's not fuckin' like that. He's gotta family, he don't need 'nother one. Certainly not with this guy who can't tell the difference between someone's dress code and their morals. It ain't like there is a ton of shit to wear 'round here anyway.
Anyway, he knows that he can't survive on his own. Three arrows and no clue where to start lookin' fer Beth.
But at least he's got these dumbasses to be with till he gets to his family. He could have killed that guy fer talking shit 'bout Beth. He almost did, if Joe hadn't stopped him. Nobody talked shit about his family. Not even when Merle was with them.
"What he says goes."
And that's 'xactly who this guy reminds the hunter of. Merle. His brother. It's been a few months since…, but since then, and even before, he has stepped into his own man. His own person. His family taught him that.
He tries not to think about Rick and the rest of his family not getting out.
"Guys like us…"
"You ain't gun find nobody like you and me, lil' brotha. It's us against the world. Mhmm, Imma teach you everythin' I know. Guys like us, brothers, we gotta stick together, ya' hear me Darylena?"
Daryl would mumble a, "I hear you," before doing whatever Merle told him to. It wasn't until he found his place with the group that he finally realized it was okay to be his own person. He just gotta decide what kinda person he was gonna be. He wasn't Merle. And he definitely wasn't a guy like them.
Fuck that.
He wasn't allowin' himself to be in anyone's shadow ever again.
Rick taught him to be his own person. Carol taught him how to have some form of humor. Lil' Asskicker taught him to love. Beth taught him that's alright to care again.
Carl, Michonne, Hershel, Maggie, Glenn…they all taught him somethin'.
And he don't say much, but those lessons means somethin' to him.
And hell, he misses 'em. And he doesn't even know if they are alive, or if they escaped, but like hell if he don't believe somewhere deep inside that they did. They were strong, not like the sheltered people of Woodbury, who probably couldn't last one day on their own.
But because his family had been with him through that winter and through the spring and the summer that followed. Two years, they'd been together and the hope that Hershel taught him was all he had goin'.
So the hunter presses on with this temporary group that he don't care much fer. Just until he finds someone, anyone from his real family.
He sorta wishes that he had told Rick how he felt 'bout him before all shit went to hell. The fuckin' Governor comin' and blowin' holes into all their hardwork. Fuckin' dumbass. He shoulda went with Michonne to hunt the son o'a bitch down while they had a chance.
But then Daryl thinks that he probably woulda just put off tellin' Rick if they hadn't been separated, and then he don't want to think 'bout anythin' at all.
What he felt fer Rick. He don't even know what these feelin's are. He cares deeply for the other man, 'cause he was the first person to ever really look at Daryl and see him.
But he remembers yellin' at Beth back at the cabin.
"Might as well be, 'cause you ain't never gonna see 'em again… Rick…"
"…"
"You ain't never gonna see Maggie again!"
"Daryl, just stop."
"No! The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe…if I wouldn't have stopped looking…Maybe 'cause I gave up. That's on me…"
"Daryl…"
"No—and your dad… Maybe—maybe I could have done something."
What he wouldn't give to have her mouthin' off to him right now. A hug of some sort. She was weak physical wise, but she was strong in other parts. And he missed her.
When he had said Rick's name, he had been telling himself that mainly. Just tryna convince himself that he wasn't alive and that maybe it was fer the best.
Daryl was afraid.
Ya' shouldn't be picky when it comes to love in this world. But the redneck ain't been great at love, even 'fore the turn. He just hopes not to come across his reanimated corpse.
They'd been walkin' down these train tracks for awhile now, maybe a day or so, when one of the guys points out a small pinprick of light in the distance, a few ways off and next to the forest. Out in the open, yet still near 'nough to safety if they need to run.
The guy who spots 'em says something 'bout how it could be the guy who killed one of their own.
Daryl purses his lips as he squints. It's gettin' dark and the only way to tell is if they get closer. Daryl immediately volunteers to check it out when it gets dark. If it's someone he don't know, then he'll try to figure it out, but if it's family…
"When it gets dark, I'll head over there and check it out," he grumbles to Joe, who looks at him almost suspiciously, before nodding his head. "Hell, go ahead. Take one of the others with ya', guys like us, we need to stick together," he tells him, and the redneck grits his teeth.
'I don't need none ya'll.'
Their stupid rule of "claiming" things is dumb and Daryl is glad that with their group, there ain't none of that shit. They all get a helping, a share. They care fer one 'nother and if someone gets into a bad situation, they help.
They don't fight over stupid shit like a rabbit.
They make camp for the night on the side of the tracks and the hunter keeps standin', keeping his eyes on the horizon. On the figures 'round the pinprick of light. His eyes narrow as he tries to make out their silhouettes in the waning light.
Joe walks up to him and gives him that condescending smile he has. "If it ain't him, then, I don't know. Kill 'em if ya have to," he says, and then he chuckles. Daryl gives him a blank look, fighting the anger that's wellin' up inside of him. He ain't like that. He don't know what his appearance gives, his mind flickering back to when Beth said she had never been in jail, but he ain't. Fuckin'. Like. That.
Daryl just gives him a nod and stands guard with his crossbow and three arrows. He wished he had his quiver with him. That woulda made things a lot more simpler.
The second that the orange sky turns dark blue, Daryl heads out with one of the other guys to check it out. He inches closer along the train tracks, his eyes trained on the small light far ahead. It's too dark for these people to see 'em comin' and the hunter is happy that he's only got one of them guys with him.
He'd be easier to take down if this shit hits the ceiling. He ain't gonna kill no survivors. That just ain't his thing. Unless, 'course, they threatening him or talking shit.
They are a few feet away from the light and the redneck makes sure that his steps are light, his eyes trained on the male. He can see that it's a man, a boy, and a woman. They all fit the descriptions of his family and he'd be damned if they wasn't, because just seeing some survivors that look like 'ems got his heart achin'.
"Carl, you and Michonne have gotta stop making these bets," he hears a voice say.
A small snort is followed by a woman's, "Keep telling yourself that. I'll take first watch."
He knows those voices. That voice of the man washes over him in his dreams and he can't help but to yell out, maybe a little too loudly,
"Claimed."
He nearly hisses it to the other man he's with, "Claimed. Mine. Everyone here is claimed."
There's a sudden whooshing of movement, and the redneck knows that Rick has heard him. The other man comes running his gun held high. Carl is right next to him with his gun and Michonne with her withdrawn katana.
"Who are you?" he hears Rick's Georgian drawl and Daryl smirks, pointing his crossbow at the other man.
"Rick, it's me," he says, slowly backing up towards the other male. He hears a breath of relief, but Daryl holds up a hand, telling him not to do anything sudden.
"These people are mine," he tells the man, his eyes narrowing at him. "I don't wanna kill ya' but if ya' try anythin', I will," he says, his gaze hard as he stares at the other man in the dim light of the fire.
Daryl can tell the man wants to say somethin', but Michonne's katana is at the guy's neck before he can utter anything.
He smirks before looking over his shoulder at the three of them, "'Sup," he says, giving them a small grin. It's the least he can say at the moment. They ain't out of harm's way yet.
Carl comes forward and takes the guy's gun, searching him and finding a pistol strapped to his belt. He takes that, too, and steps back from him.
Daryl explains the situation as quickly as he can to the group and Rick decides to give the other male back to this Joe guy's group. They don't want no trouble with them, and if they can sort it out peacefully, then that's something.
Rick is always the negotiator. Default leader if anything bad happens.
Daryl swears that next time, they need a fuckin' back up plan, 'cause this is the first and last time he wants to be separated from these people.
When they do get back to the others, Joe is furious. He starts throwin' round that goddamned phrase again and it gets the hunter's blood boiling. Who the hell does this bastard think he is? He ain't fucking like that.
Rick tries to negotiate, he tries to let him know that they will make an exchange, Daryl for the dude that had went with him.
Joe refuses, and Daryl can see the Governor all over again in this guy.
It wasn't them who fires the first shot, though, and Daryl figures that it's 'bout time as he fires an arrow into some dick's head. They try not to kill, but in this world, you can't afford not to anymore. They would die anyway.
They save Joe for last and it's quick and easy and when he tells them to fuck off, his eyes glaring at Daryl, Daryl almost shoots the arrow into his head.
One shot to the brain. Daryl can tell that Rick's the one that fired.
Then they are all at each other the second it's over, hugging one another in the midst of the dead corpses around them and Daryl ain't afraid to admit that a coupla tears were shed.
Michonne laughs quietly as she buries her side into Daryl's left and Rick is firm and comforting on his right. Carl just goes for the middle, arms wrapped around his waist so tight that Daryl can hardly breathe.
And fuck if he admits that he don't want to a little, because if being here in his family's arms is what suffocatin' is, then he is willin' to take the risk.
He'd be tense if it weren' for the fact that he had missed these damn people way too much.
Fuck 'em for getting into his heart.
"Let's get out of here," he says, before nodding towards the tracks, he coughs to cover up the fact that he's so relieved and embarrassed and tired. "We gotta get out of here before walkers come for the feast," he mumbles but he squeezes them to him for a coupla more seconds before lettin' 'em go.
"Come on," he says, and they scavenge through the dead gang's things, picking up what they can use 'fore rushin' over to their own campsite, picking up the bags and stomping out the fire, before continuin' on.
It ain't long till they reach a small building a little off from the tracks, hidden behind the trees. The only reason they catch it is 'cause Carl flashed his light over it and caught the light bouncing back off one a the windows. One walker, which is easily brought down by Michonne's katana.
And they settle in fer the night.
It's one roomed, two windows, one door, a table, and a chair. They place the table in front of the door, cover the windows with the rags that are curtains, and camp out on the floor. A coupla' blankets are laid out in one corner of the room. Michonne lays down against the wall, then Carl, Rick, and then Daryl, with his back to the other wall. They are pressed together barely a few inches between 'em, but the hunter enjoys being this close to Rick.
He likes the warmth radiating off the other man.
It's been a few hours, and Daryl still hasn't slept. He's gotta keep an eye out for his family. A paranoia sinking in him that he's been carryin' ever since Beth got kidnapped by some psychopath in a car.
He notes mentally to tell the others about it in the mornin'.
Rick opens his eyes drearily to look at Daryl. The redneck raises an eyebrow as he looks at the other man.
"Hey," Rick whispers, a small smile coming to his lips.
"Hey," Daryl replies, as he shifts against the wall.
They can hear a couple of groans outside and both Daryl and Rick know that they best keep this conversation quiet.
"I didn't think we'd ever see you again," Rick says, swallowing around the lump in his throat.
"Me either," the redneck replies, and he finds that it gets a little harder to breathe, because he was so close to losing Rick if he hadn't been with those guys. They could have killed his family.
"I have a question for you," Rick says softly, and Daryl can see those piercing, watery blue eyes through the dim moonlight that's streaming through the curtains.
Daryl grunts, signaling that he's heard him and to go on in askin' his question.
"What did you mean by 'claimed'?"
It took a second for the question to sink and when it finally does, Daryl just wants to laugh. For the first time in a long time, he wants to outright laugh, boisterous and loud and annoying. The kind that could get ya' killed if ya' don't shut the fuck up.
He settles for shaking his head and grinning like a fool.
"Dumbass rule that them guys had. If ya' wanted it, ya' had to say 'claimed'," he explains, and then he does snort.
Rick gives a wry smile and he raises his eyebrow, not quite understanding why Daryl is so amused. It's pictured plain on the hunter's face.
"Does that mean you want me," the former cop teases and then Daryl tenses. He freezes like a deer caught in the headlights and he's unsure of how to respond. Because, fuck yeah, he does, but he don't know how to just say 'yes' in this moment.
He grunts and swallows, the smile already faded from his face.
"Maybe," he finally grunts, when he sees the confusion written in Rick's features. He purses his lips and averts his eyes, not wantin' to see any disapproval in them, despite the lack of lightin' in the room.
"Man up, Darylena. Ya' only get one chance in this world."
Shut up, Merle.
Rick is silent for a moment before he chuckles, "Well, I wasn't really expecting that," he mumbles, embarrassment laced in his words. Daryl looks him straight in the eye and stares him down. He ain't a pussy. And he ain't nobody's bitch.
He ain't gonna take back his words, so he stares Rick down until the older man moves a little closer to him, really getting into his personal bubble.
"So ya' claimed me," he teases, leaning forward a bit, his breath mingling with Daryl's and suddenly the redneck is glad that it's too dark, because he's sure that his face has gotta tad bit redder.
He grunts, "Just kiss me," he growls and Rick grins as he leans into give a him a small cliché kiss on the mouth. Simple. No tongues or teeth, but a symbol of trust and a statement that reads loud to the hunter.
Rick don't mind being claimed by Daryl.
There ain't no fireworks or golden stars that burst into fuckin' supernovas. It's just a simple kiss. Daryl's been kissed 'fore, but this kiss is just nice.
It's comfortin' and almost sweet.
He nearly gags.
He pulls away and settles down, his eyes searching Rick's face for any deception. But Rick's got honor and if he hadn't known the man so well, he woulda been more cautious.
But he does know Rick and that's what matters.