AN: What am I doing, writing? I should be working. HA!

Enjoy this random little bit of something. I'm bored. Someone entertain me.

Usual disclaimers apply. I'm not cool enough to own this franchise.

Cheers.

-Shazzy

Ides

"Goddammit! It's snowing again!" Daryl cursed.

They'd moved into the farmhouse with Herschel, and everyone was beginning to feel the cabin fever more than ever. It was too cold to move back out and camp in the yard, but being stuck inside was worse than anything else. Everyone was fighting with one another, over nothing in particular, and everyone was getting on everyone else's nerves.

The weather had been nice, Daryl had been planning to go out, hopefully set up his camp again, but no, the snow had begun to fall in big heavy flakes. He stood on the porch, crossbow in hand and scowled.

"Could be worse." Rick offered, leaning on the rail. "Could be sub-zero again."

Daryl grunted his reply.

They'd been lucky so far. In the winter months, when they'd braved the roads to get into town for additional supplies, they'd discovered that walkers freeze solid. They'd gone out every day searching through snow drifts to find the frozen walkers and bash in their heads, better safe than sorry, who knew if they'd thaw out and start walking again? They'd brought them all back to the farm in Daryl's truck, intending to burn them when the weather warmed up. Overall, they'd killed nearly sixty, and they hadn't had a chance to make it into town to search for walkers.

Rick looked Daryl over, the other man had lost a lot of weight over the winter, they all had, but Daryl showed it the worst. His face was gaunt and his eyes were sunken. He'd become lean muscle and nerves. Rick was afraid that Daryl was like a tiger in a trap – the slightest provocation and he might snap.

"You been sleepin' much, Daryl?" Rick asked after a long moment of staring silently at the falling snow.

"Not as such." Daryl replied impatiently. He leaned against the support pillar at the top of the stairs. It was relatively nice out, despite the snow. Daryl shot a sideways glance at Rick. "You worried about me now?"

Rick smiled tiredly. "I think Carol does that enough for the lot of us, but I can't say I'm not."

Daryl grunted again. "I'm fine." He narrowed his eyes. "Did someone say somethin'? Issat why you're out here?"

Rick shook his head. "Naw." He said simply. "I was hoping that we'd be able to start moving back out here soon too."

"I'm still moving back out here." Daryl informed the deputy. "I can't stand the cramped quarters anymore."

"You ever get frostbite?" Rick asked.

"Once when I was a kid." Daryl shot back, ignoring the threat. "I ain't got feelin' in half my toes." He smirked. "It ain't the cold I'm worried about."

Rick sighed. "Beware the Ides of March." He muttered under his breath.

Daryl snorted a laugh. "Ides jus' means 'middle' you know." He scolded. "And there ain't been nothing bad happening for months. Lori ain't due yet, all the walkers are probably still frozen, and the ones in the truck have had their heads neatly cracked. Unless someone inside decides ta shoot someone else..."

Both men held their breath for a moment as a gust of wind chilled the air. They waited silently, as if the gust of wind was a foretelling of some heinous event about to happen inside.

Nothing happened.

Both men exhaled in relief.

"I would give anything for a cup of coffee right now." Daryl said after a long moment.

"I'd give up my marriage for one." Rick countered.

Daryl laughed. "Don't tempt fate." He warned. "It's still the middle of March."