1.

There's nothing wrong with him. The bad things he's done have been for love, to protect his people, this family the new world has given to him. He would do them again and worse so Beth, Hershel, Sophia and Lori got to see Alexandria. It's a good place, filled with stupid people who have survived so far by sheer luck. Life is unfair like that. It's always been. You have to stand up and keep walking, try harder next time. Rick's with Michonne now, Carol's gained them all as their kids and Maggie still has Glenn and their baby on the way. She so deserves it after everything she's lost. Once upon a time, Daryl might have felt a bit jealous. Late bloomer that he is, the Korean might have been his first serious crush, just like everything that counts has happened to him after the world went to shit. Merle noticed. Suggested shit. "It's war, bro. Survival of the fittest. The strong ones dominate. He'd be getting something out of it too, anyway." Daryl is proud to say he didn't take seriously his brother's ill advice, although he did make an offer once Merle disappeared. He wasn't disrespectful, hadn't meant wrong. Like everyone else, he simply wanted to be part of something special, have someone to call family, a person to fight and die for. He didn't use the word "sex". It was not his main priority. This arrangement meant much more than that. "Companionship", he chose instead, for protection and food. "We're both on our own." They could leave together and fend for themselves instead of keep working their asses off for these strangers who liked to order people around but would leave them cuffed in a roof to save their own behinds. Glenn's been always a good, polite boy, who delivered pizzas to get by and didn't let his shitty relationship with his old man touch him anywhere it mattered. "Mom passed away, he got depressed. Couldn't be much of a father, but he wasn't a bastard either." He got surprised. Daryl remembers his slanted eyes looked very pretty when he was supposedly opening them huge. Then, he smiled, had the kindness to be short, practical in his refusal. He was very flattered, but not gay. "We're all part of this camp, Daryl. We have something good going on here. All of us. And, for the record, I can protect myself and I'm better at scavenging than you." Left him with a wink and a little bit of heartbreak. He didn't love Glenn, but he could have gotten there if the opportunity had been granted. The "not gay" detail wasn't a big problem. They could take it slow. Lust actually factored very little in his proposition, he craved more some special attention, the sweet, good stuff like going to sleep besides a warm body, even if nudity wasn't involved too soon. No hard feelings. They became good friends, brothers, no awkwardness hazing the atmosphere between them. He was honestly happy, crushed his own envy like the ugly little thing it was, when Glenn got together with Maggie. Two kids coming out of the tower, still rearranging their clothes. Chuckling along Rick and Carol came as his natural reaction. In the end, even if rejection tasted like shit for a little while, it turned out for the better. Glenn had been right: Daryl did become part of something special.

So far, it's been enough. Fighting alongside Rick and Michonne to protect Lil' Asskicker and Carl, having Carol's, Glenn's and Maggie's backs, meeting Aaron and Denisse. There's just something about this place, about not being on the run, not feeling in constant danger. Even Abraham is talking about settling down, some shit about finding a true partner and not resigning himself to the last woman on Earth. They've defeated the bad guys. They are the dangerous people now, the ones you don't want to cross. They're not safe. This world never is, but they are the victors, they can kick back and focus for the time being on their crops and the simple life, enjoy their hard-earned peace for as long as it lasts. It's like Hershel's farm, like the prison, except he didn't feel like this back then. Or maybe he did. Sex, after all, has never been an imperative for him. He doesn't think of it as a requirement to form unconditional and everlasting bonds with a person. Even back in the old days, it was more a nuisance than a source of pleasure whenever Merle, thinking he was doing him a favor, introduced him to someone who was a done deal. Eventually, his brother labeled him a "lost cause" and left him alone. Daryl certainly has never resented him for it. Merle was enough of a good big brother. He kept an eye on him during his baby years, when mom had to leave for work, and afterwards, when she didn't come back. He cooked for him, sometimes allowed him to tag along in his outings, he taught him both the good and the bad stuff. When Merle fled the house, some seriously awful years followed. Worst part of his life, probably, til he had to bury Beth, watch Hershel lose his head and listen to Carl being dragged around the mud by human pigs. His father is to blame for those years. Merle is not the one who raised voice and fists. He's not the one who left scars on his back, cigarette-shaped marks on his arms. Merle did what he had to do. It was that, die or kill. Daryl did the same as soon as he could and a third little Dixon with betrayed eyes wouldn't have stopped him. He left that damn house and the old man to rot in it. The last time Daryl saw him, he was sprawled on the couch, passed-out drunk. Daryl knows he drowned in his own vomit and Merle knows too. "Son of a bitch had it coming, little brother. He probably was not our father anyway." And that was the end of their mourning when news about their father's passing reached them. They had reunited and were working together fixing engines, washing cars and whatever else came along. They shared a roof, but barely talked. Too little love lost between them for casual affection and meaningful conversations. With Rick, he has that. With Carol. With Carl.

"Your shit. Don't care." That's what Merle told him the day he noticed him eyeing a cute guy a bit older than the Grimes boy. Not Daryl's fault. Kid was a stunner. How's it wrong to just gawk? He didn't even try and talk to the damn kid. It's not like he creeps on little boys who couldn't even enjoy a good fuck, hell, who wouldn't even know what a good fuck is. He wasn't looking in Hershel's farm. Kid was still a little kid, nothing for the eyes to feast on. He cared. The same way he cared about Carol's little girl, whom he failed to bring back to safety. When did it become something else? Damn Merle was back right in time to stir the shit again. "Baby Grimes is growing up fast. Pretty as a girl. Crazy too." Fourteen, sixteen, eighteen. It doesn't matter so much in a world where kids have to kill and may not survive to see the next day.

Carol just had to be the first one who said something to him about it. "Sophia is turning fifteen today." She started with that, went on about how much her little girl would have liked Alexandria and then, "Carl's a bit younger. He's certainly becoming a handsome young man." She turned to him with a smile and stopped talking. So that was his cue. He could have just shrugged, mumbled something noncommittal and left. "You think… there's a chance?" "I think you might lose more than you can afford to." Daryl understands her point. Rick's doing better, but he still hasn't shaken off completely the overprotective madness that breaks loose after shit happens, and when he gets like that, not even Michonne is allowed to wander too close to those kids. Fucking hunter, fucking governor, fucking marauders, fucking cannibals and fucking Anderson kid. Daryl just wants to get close, get in. Rick could relax, enjoy this thing he has going on with Michonne and spend more time with his little girl, being a family, the three of them, instead of worrying himself sick about a big boy like Carl, sneaking to his and Judith's room in the middle of the night, getting in a frenzy, psycho Rick all over again, each time the kid is not in his sight or fails to stay put exactly where he was left hours before.

"Dad, don't get mad." Daryl doesn't like those words coming from Carl's mouth. Rick's his brother and a good dad, a good man, has raised hell and endured it to protect his boy, nothing like his old man or that Anderson jackass they had to put down. He barely raises his hand at Carl. Some well-deserved slaps on the butt when he was a tiny little lizard too brave and too nosy for his own good and would put himself or others in danger. Never for back-talking, for stammering, for acting clumsy, for feeling scared, for getting sick, for being there. The kid had snuck out to get some fresh air, enjoy a landscape without walls around it. His friend, worried for his safety, confessed to Maggie she had tagged along before and they came with the story to Rick. They were getting ready to go out and drag Carl's ass back to safety, when the kid opened the door, panting and sweaty. "I'm sorry. I just went out for a walk." Rick was on him in two strides, grabbed him by the back of the hair, made him whimper. "You ever pull this shit on me again, I cut both your legs to keep you in the house. Don't try me." Daryl has seen Carl a little bit wary of his father's behavior, back at the prison when he wasn't allowed to make his own plans, out on the road, when Rick would sleep with one arm around him and the other one around Judith. Never like this, though, not a word back, not even a glare, just silent tears and a nod. Daryl loves the man more than life, but he was ready to jump at his throat. Michonne's intervention came first. Her hand went to Rick's neck. "Threaten him like that again, and I'll do ten times worse. Don't try me, Rick." Altered voices ensued. Abraham, Sasha and Carol took Rick's side. Morgan, Glenn and Tara took Carl's and Michonne's. Rosita, Gabriel and Eugene kept quiet. Maggie restored the peace. "This is a private matter, a family matter. We came here to help, not to make things worse. What the fuck, Rick? Do we have to ask you to stay away from your own son?" He's a good, reasonable dad who got too worried with fair reasons for it. Carl shouldn't have exposed himself like that. He's gone through enough shit to have learned his lesson. Rick hugged his kid, buried his nose in his neck. "I'm sorry. You know I would never hurt you. Please, don't do this again. Promise me. I know right now it might seem like it, but it's not safe out there. You know it's not safe. It's never safe." "That's very touching but I say spank him and spank him hard. We were all gonna fry our asses out there to kick yours back to were it should have been." Abraham stated what was in everyone's minds. He cares about Rick's offspring, and although he has never complained about risking his neck for the kid's safety or that of a companion's, Carl's way past the age when it would have been acceptable to wring his family through this kind of crap. Still holding him against his chest, Rick slapped the seat of his pants four or five times, nothing too painful, a symbolic gesture more than a real punishment, which had been the ghost of his dad's madness addressed right at him.

So now Carl asks permission for his little excursions and never leaves on his own. His dad and Michonne join him most of the times and Daryl is happy to include himself when he doesn't have guard duties or a supply run to participate in. It's silly and harmless and it makes Carl so happy. They walk to a small space in the woods, not so far away from the walls, have a little picnic, chat, play ball. Worst problem they've crashed into: a few walkers too noisy and too slow to represent real danger. When his son is in Daryl's company, Rick isn't so opposed anymore to stay behind. "Go. Have fun."

Carl's not a baby any longer. His voice is deeper than Rick's and Daryl doesn't have much more than a head on him now. He would never betray his brother's trust but he won't lie and say he isn't looking now. And for sure he is not the only one. Fucking Joe and his group don't count. Those were perverts, bad people who would have gone after the little kid Carl was back at the farm, who would taint with their dirty hands, their dirty pricks anyone they considered weaker than themselves with their gang and their weapons. Dan didn't look too menacing on his own, confronted with Rick's thirst for justice. They said they were going to have both Michonne and Carl. Probably would have drilled Rick's and Daryl's dead bodies afterwards. When the Anderson kid came to the scene, Daryl was correct about it. A complete gentleman who admitted defeat and moved out of the way, respected the kids' zone, gave the guy within the more appropriate age range a chance to prove himself. Little bastard pulled a gun on Carl, blew his eye and almost his brains out. That can't be the kind of guy Rick wants for his son. He would surely prefer someone who can keep his little boy alive, who prioritizes Carl's safety before anything else. Daryl is that guy. Not Ron or any other useless kid who Carl would have to protect instead.

It's not unrequited either, wishful thinking, old horndog leering on the unsuspecting teen. Daryl's pretty sure the sneaky kid's been checking him out even before he got something for Daryl to notice as payback, under the innocent pretense of hero-worshipping his super uncle. He would bug Lori to ride on the motorcycle with Daryl, would bug him to practice how to shoot with the gun and with the crossbow. Now he commands, takes him by surprise while they're quietly fishing in the pond a few meters away from their usual spot. "Flex your arm." Fucking tease was acting all reluctant and rude moments before, when Daryl suggested to go a bit farther away and make better use of their time, catch some fish since they came all their way here, to bring a special dinner for the people at home who put up with his shit. Playing the obedient son, scoring points so daddy dearest doesn't leave the print of a hand on his backside again. "What the fuck for?" Carl never makes up excuses or explains himself. "Wanna see your muscle. It's cool." "What do I get to see in return?" He miscalculated. Carl's still young, still a kid. Daryl wasn't asking for anything inappropriate. He simply wanted to tease him back a bit, grant him a taste of what he was getting himself into. The kid blushed, recoiled, got moody. "Fuck you." They made their way back immediately, with big strides and uncomfortable silence. Actually, the brat took off first and Daryl had to gather their things in a rush to avoid falling behind. "Why are you angry?" "M'not angry." "Carl, talk to me." Turned out the kid was really not angry, just confused, hurt and Daryl felt like piercing his own palate with the hook for being so stupid. He knew he was not much to look at, was what Carl mumbled. What was Daryl supposed to answer? "The half of your face that got left is still my dream come true" or "it's not your face what makes me look". Instead, Daryl kept his mouth zipped and flexed his biceps for Carl's benefit at every opportunity he found during dinner that night. His efforts didn't go unnoticed. Carl joined him in cleaning duties, smiled at him and called him an idiot. Then, he got serious. "So, it's okay then?" "What is?" "That I like looking at your muscles."