Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: This story is meant to fit into canon a few weeks after the events of 5x11. Written in response to the following prompt by Chestertonsfence on tumblr: "What Aaron was wearing when Eric first saw him." This is told in Tara's point of view but the pairing is Aaric (Aaron/Eric).

Warnings: Spoilers for 5x11 "The Distance." *Contains: semi-adult language, semi-adult content, discussion of broken bones and minor injury, established relationship and sassy!Tara.

Catwalk (call back)

"Thanks again for helping me with this," Eric piped up, smiling warmly as she looked over her shoulder at him. Going slightly cross-eyed from her upside down position over the back of the guest room couch. Socked feet swaying this way and that as she tried to keep her balance and lift the bed skirt all at the same time.

"I wouldn't have had any problem doing it myself, of course. Only, well, you know," he continued, gesturing awkwardly at his cast. Littered with at least a dozen "get well soons" and childish drawings that'd been lovingly etched into the crumbling plaster by the neighbourhood kids.

"No problem," she replied smoothly, blowing a thatch of hair out of her eyes as she righted herself and sunk down on her knees. Trying to see under the edge of the bed without having to move the couch as Eric leaned heavily against the doorjamb, sweat beading across his forehead. The trek upstairs clearly getting the better of him. "Where'd you say it fell? Behind the bed?"

"Right on the edge of- woo dust bunny heaven," he commented, wrinkling his nose as she nudged the couch to the side, gaining just enough momentum to stir up a seriously thriving colony of dust balls and cat hair.

She coughed pointedly. Watching the motes swirl around her head. Tempted to wave a hand in front of her face even though she knew that would only make it worse.

"Sorry," Eric murmured, eying the dust like each clump was a personal affront. "It's been awhile since this carpet has seen a vacuum. We used to have cleaner, a nice older lady from the other side of town who'd come by twice a month. Absolute god send, I tell you."

She screwed up her face, already feeling her nose starting to twitch. Shoving her hand as far as it would go under the bed. Casting about wildly. Where the hell could it have gone? There was only so many places a thing like that could have-

She startled when her palm slapped against something smooth and cool to the touch. Feeling about for a few seconds before pulling it out. Spine popping at the unnatural angle as she straightened, dragging out the consolation prize so she could get a better look at what might have been stuffed behind it.

"Oops!" She exclaimed, wincing as a folder slipped out of the stack and a pile of papers rained down across the span of the carpet. Filling the room with the warping flutters of professional-grade snap-shots and yellowing newspapers.

She blinked. Getting an eyeful of a freckled chest, clean cut clothes and an official designer runway before her mouth got ahead of her brain and seized the reigns with its usual gusto. "Whoa, dude. Eric, are these of you?"

She held a print up to the light, blowing off the fine layer of dust to reveal a long sable trench, all popped collar and polished brass buttons. With a younger Eric peering sultry and confident over the trim. Red hair slicked back and lids painted with the barest shimmer of a sheer black shadow. Everything about it was tasteful and subtle but somehow still quite stunning – dramatic even.

It reminded her of the shy nerdy boys from her high school days that did an ugly duckling after their first few years of college. Finally owning their own skin and coming into their own. Only, well, somehow she couldn't imagine Eric as anything other than he was – sweet and alluring regardless of the fact that her own tastes ran toward more feminine fare.

"What? I-wait, I thought I threw these out years ago!" Eric exclaimed, tottering over with his crutch before half-falling into the couch cushions. Leaning down to sift through a small mountain of glossy-prints before he frowned. "No, I definitely threw these out. I remember that spring cleaning binge. Aaron was acting like he was liable to pop a blood vessel the entire time. Kept squirreling stuff back into the house when I wasn't looking. Pack-rat."

"Were you guys together back then or something?" she asked, curious as ever. Eager to piece together their backstory as she flipped gleefully through the runway photos. Whistling appreciatively at one of the shots, which featured Eric posing - barefoot and tousle-haired – all dolled up in a fine, silver-grey vest and suit.

"Together? Oh god no. At that point the poor thing was so far in the closet he might as well have been vacationing in Narnia," he replied, flapping a hand distractedly as he reached for a stack and thumbed through them.

"These are mostly from a catwalk gig I did one summer," Eric explained. "I was on the agencies short list through college. Basically whenever they needed someone thin and ginger. I was a last minute replacement. You wouldn't believe the drama. But the pay was unbelievable - for someone surviving on mostly ramen noodles and the discount bin at the grocery store anyway."

"Well, he sure kept these for a reason," she commented, pausing significantly. Mentally rearranging the order of her "if she had to pick a dude" category as the man blushed beatifically. Coming to the same conclusion she had as he leafed curiously through the carefully preserved shots.

This had absolutely zero to do with pack-rat tendencies and one hundred and ten percent to do with something under the belt and very much private. Aaron hadn't exactly been planning to make a photo album out of them, after all. She grinned. It was almost sweet, in a naughty sort of way.

"It was the first time we met, actually. He was there in the lobby promoting something, saving the pandas, probably. I remember because during the after party I smiled at him and he nearly ran into the sliding glass door. That and he was wearing a shirt that was the absolute ugliest shade of-"

"Hey, Aaron's birthday is coming up isn't it?" she asked, cutting him off when a sudden idea started forming. Brewing in the back of her mind as she stared down at a particularly striking shot – all reddish-gold stubble with a dark green v-neck and tight tan slacks.

"Yeah, next month. Why?"

"I might have an idea how you can make it extra special…" she said with a smirk. Gaze flickering from the stack of photos to Eric and then back again as an equally mischievous expression started curling across his handsome features.

Oh, now this was going to be fun…

A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This story is now complete.

Reference:

*Call Back: modeling term meaning after the first casting a callback or recall is held to narrow down the selection process. It is not unusual to get a callback before getting a job or being turned down.