Author's Note: This is a short story, based on Daryl and Spencer, the OC from my one shot, Cuddle Buddy. If you would like more of these characters, read that. There will be three parts to this story, maybe four. I might extend the series with another installment, may depend. This story will involve smut, so fair warning. Please take the time to leave some feedback to let me know what you think.

Part I

He's sitting alone on the other side of the cafeteria, pretending that I don't exist. I'm sitting alone, in a crowd of people, pretending that he's not pretending I don't exist. It's a complicated situation, but that's how things are with Daryl. Complicated and emotionally constipated.

It's been four days since he's last spoke to me, and it consisted of, "Hand me that screw." And it was three days before that that we properly spoke. I'm beginning to feel stupid, like I should have known that this was going to happen. This was the apocalypse, the end of the world. My father, who literally spent my entire life preparing for the end of the world, taught me to be a loner. Why am I even entertaining these feelings?

Regardless, I know it's a waste of time and energy. If Daryl wants to run around confused by what emotions are, let him. I can't let this bother me so much.

At the table, Maggie gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze, doing her best to force a smile. I haven't told her what's been going on between Daryl and myself, but I really don't think I need to. Ever since Daryl suggested my membership of the colony to Rick, before they formed that council of theirs, Maggie and I have become close. She's always paid attention to me, carefully watching my integration into the group after my spending two years singularly looking for my little sister. An older sister herself, Maggie was there to support my decision to stop searching when I gave up. I'm such a shitty person.

There's a ruffle in conversation as Rick and Glenn appear through the cafeteria doorway of the prison. Carol and Beth who'd been chatting idly stop and turn their attention to our group leader, and I can't help but notice Maggie's awkward grin. She knows about my relationship with Rick, which is almost as complicated as my relationship with Daryl. But she doesn't say a word. We've established a form of communication without verbal expression in reference to some topics, which is essential in such a close-knit community.

I'm tuning the world out. I just hear muted mumbling as Maggie greets her husband, rises, and disappears with him. Carol welcomes Rick back, but leaves to tend to the meal prep she runs in the kitchen. All that's left now is Rick, Beth, who's holding Judith, and me. Rick takes a moment to look down and smile at his daughter, gently grazing the back of her head with his knuckles, and he places a fatherly kiss on her forehead. He says something to Beth that I don't pay attention to. She gets up, with the baby, and leaves.

Now it's just me and Rick, who's placed a small black bag onto the table, and he gives me a sobering stare. I begin to come back to reality, hoping that he can't see my involuntary zoning out and the process of coming-to on my face.

"How've you been?" he says in a low voice, only loud enough for me to hear, but still ingrained in that trademark Grimes seriousness.

It's been exactly twenty-one days since I stopped my search for Rebecca. I still dream about her every night, her face, her red hair, the sound of her tiny voice sounding from her small frame. Learning to live without her is worse than obsessively looking for her, which I've been doing for a long time.

Rick has lost people, too. He understands, almost more than anyone. His wife, the mother of his child, died during childbirth. She'd survived the death of the world, and she sacrificed herself filling it with new life. But I think he worries about me, especially, because of our closeness, our established trust and confidence. And probably a few other unmentioned, non-worked through emotions.

"How was the trip?" I completely avoid his question.

I can see the disappointment in his eyes, but Rick avoids voicing his issues, too, so he knows he has no room to say anything. He tries to work around his initial question. "Good, I guess. We got another forty pounds of rice." He chuckles at my face as I roll my eyes and scoff. "I know, I know. You hate Rice. But it is food."

"I don't hate rice, Rick. I'm just tired of eating it." We need to reserve it for a famine, just so I don't have to eat it for a while.

He begins rummaging through the bag he'd sat on the table, holding out a stack of four CD's to me, and my eyes widen at the sudden treasure.

"Oh, wow." I reach for the goodies and investigate them one by one.

"They're mixes. Hits of the 60s and 70s. I thought it would add some…variety." He smiles at me because he's making fun of me silently.

I narrow my eyes. "Are you judging my music collection, Rick?"

He doesn't answer me, but takes one of the CD's from me and runs his fingers down the list of songs, eventually stopping number seven. "Lori used to sing this to Carl when he was a baby."

I'm unfamiliar with the song. I've never heard of it before, but I'm sure I'll be giving it a listen later. "Thank you," I tell him. He's always concerning himself with other people. Rick is a perfect example of selflessness. I almost feel guilty that he's worrying about me. That's time and effort he should be putting into his kids, or the betterment of the group. I don't deserve or need it. "I'm fine," I insist, referring to his concern from earlier.

He leans back into his chair, hooking his thumbs into his belt loop, resting his palm at the top of his thigh. "You've just been real closed off, lately."

Unable to look into his eyes, my gaze falls onto the CD's. I'm afraid that if he looks into my eyes for too long, he'll be able to decipher everything that's fucked up with me and he'll want to talk about it or something. My issues aren't things that really need to be talked about. They happened, they're done. Rehashing my failure isn't going to improve anything.

Rick continues. "You've made friends. You help out. You do contribute, but you just spend so much time alone."

It wasn't that I particularly dislike being around people. This is just how I am. Before the world's end, I was very sociable. Socialization became very low priority, though, once survival came first. I'm just used to the way things are now. I do have my few confidants, though. Maggie and I spend a lot of time together. I've been trying to figure out Daryl ever since I met him. And of course, there's Rick, who really can't say anything about my introversion.

"You're not too much of a social butterfly yourself," I tease. "You're always in the garden or off worrying about something, alone."

He shrugs halfheartedly. I'm looking up at him now, and there's a sadness in him. "I got my reasons." I begin to wonder if I've said the wrong thing.

"I'm not trying to shut people out, Rick."

He breaks his gaze away from me now, with a sigh, staring at the wall behind me. "I know. I'm just trying to make sure you're okay." Rick's always trying to make sure people okay, even when he's not okay.

"I'm fine." Lie.

There's a silence. He takes eyes off the wall, and leans into the table. I think he knows I'm lying. I think he's already decided that I'm not okay, which I'm really not. Between Rebecca and Daryl, I can't think straight. During the daylight hours, I'm trying to decode that angsty, silent demeanor of is, and at night, all I see is Rebecca's face.

It's as if he reads my mind. Now, I know he knows more about me than I think, that he really does pay attention to the group more than we give him credit for. Because he's incredibly casual when he says, "I haven't seen you and Daryl together lately."

Rick and I have been dancing around in the grey area between a friendship and a romantic relationship for a long time, ever since he broke down to me about Lori, and their troubled marriage. This was after her death, so the entire conversation had been full of bitter resentment and self loathing. After that, we became close friends, someone for the other to vent to. Emotions began to develop, on both ends, and I felt like I was lost at sea, and Rick had a lifesaver around my waist. Every so often, he'd gently tug at the cable, pulling me closer and closer to the boat. I would just keep swimming away after each tug, further and further, but the tugs were so persistent, even though they were subtle.

Lori is Carl and Judith's mother. Rick is the leader of the group. I have admitted and acknowledged feelings for Daryl. Those are perfect recipes for disaster.

I try to play dumb, perhaps pretend that there is nothing between myself and Daryl, something I hoped that Rick would never catch onto. I just wanted him to forget me and move on. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you spend so much time with him. You're always going on runs together, and you're both always on fence duty. You accompany him to the guard tower, sometimes. You just seem to always be around him."

I know that my eyes are wide. I probably look like a deer in the headlights, but I'm frightened and I can't help it. A million thoughts are going through my brain, and I'm not sure what the right thing is to say. So I just stick with denial. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His eyes are soft, and he says the next few words very carefully. "Spencer, I don't want you to think that I'm upset."

I hear the words, but I don't hear them. They don't register with me. All I'm thinking of is visuals of Rick seeing me and Daryl doing all of the things Daryl and I seem to do together. It's in this moment that I realize just how much time I actually do spend with that man, and I feel like an idiot, because if anyone pays attention, they've probably deduced our interest in each other. It hits me like a brick.

I shake my head, wanting to push words out, but noting really comes. "Rick, I-"

"Don't do that." He's holding up a finger, six inches away from my face. His gentle tone is now dripping with that Grimes' tone of authority, his cop voice.

"What?"

"Shut me out." He's offended. I can see the hurt in the eyes, as he clenches his jaw. "You're always shutting people out."

My heart sinks at the sadness of my own words, words I never thought I'd have to say. "It never would have worked out, Rick."

He doesn't hesitate to respond. "Yeah, you decided that all by yourself. You didn't even bother asking me."

I can't even be angry with him, because he's right. I never brought it up. I immediately shut it down. But what was I supposed to do? Lori had only died a few months ago at the time, and I still believe he hadn't fully gotten over her yet, grieved fully. Perhaps he has now, but there are other complications to consider.

"Your wife had just-"

"That's not fair." He isn't having any excuses today. "This isn't about her."

"I'm sorry. This is just the first time that we've talked about it out loud."

The anger in his expression subsides, and I know he wants to say something. Part of me wants to know, and part of me doesn't, but he doesn't get the opportunity to tell me, because Daryl is at the edge of our table now, looking down at me. My heart stops for a minute. Could he hear us from across the cafeteria? Did he catch anything on the way here?

There's unease in Rick's body language, but he quickly smoothes it out and nods in greeting. "Daryl."

Daryl just looks down at me. "You got fence duty after me." That's it. That's all I get. Hand me that screw, and You got fence duty after me. Jesus, at least Rick spoke to me.

I look away from Daryl, eyes settling unintentionally on Rick. I deliberately give him as little as possible in response. "Okay."

Daryl hovers for half of a second, expecting me to say something else, but his hard demeanor isn't faltering. He splits as soon as he realizes that's all, walking away to be emotionally constipated somewhere else.

Rick gives me a minute to process the interaction, well aware of my tense body language. He whispers, "Everything okay?"

The chair screeches as it slides from the impact with the back of my knees. "Oh no," I hiss, bending over the table. "You're not going to confess your love with me and try to give me relationship advice."

He holds his hands up in defense. "I wasn't trying to pry."

I plop black down in my chair. "I'm sorry. I just – he's complicated."

"Daryl isn't one to talk about his feelings. He works them out on his own, on his own time." He's saying this completely casually, seemingly unbothered by the relationship aspect. I feel instantly shitty for keeping this from Rick, who probably would only have tried to help from the beginning.

I tap my finger repeatedly on the surface of the old, cafeteria table. "I'm beginning to see that."

Daryl really is a different type of character. I've never met anyone like him, and I hate how completely drawn to him I am. I've always been so intrigued by him, and experienced such an intense want for him. I find myself craving him, all the time, but I'm aggravated by just so damn unattainable he is. He gives me just enough every once in a while to keep me hooked, to keep me holding out. I wonder if I will be able to do this long term, if this chase will ever get dull or perhaps, too much for me to handle.

Sometimes I think that Daryl is the man that I want, but Rick is the one that I need.

Rick sighs and leans back in his chair again. "Look, I'm going to be taking a step down, soon."

My brows furrow at the unexpected words. "I'm sorry?"

He shrugs. "I'm tired, Spencer. I've been running the group since…this all began. The council recognizes that and has basically given me their blessing to..." – he chooses the next words carefully – "take a break."

"A break?"

"I probably won't be doing runs anymore, or even tower duty. The council will run things from now on, until I'm ready to take back control. I'll probably take over the garden full time. I'm also worried about Carl. I'll probably pull him into the garden, too."

I'm not really sure how I feel about this. I've always put my life in Rick's hands, something I didn't even do for my own father. The idea of him stepping down, no longer calling the shots scares me. Apparently, this is really evident on my face, because he takes my hand that I have resting on the table.

"Everything's going to be fine." His words sound like velvet. And I believe them. If he says it, I believe it. That's the gravity of trust that I have in this man. If he says everything will be fine, then everything will be fine. No questions asked on my part.

It's hard for me to say the words, but I force a smile. "Okay, then. I support your decision."

He mirrors my smile, and my heart warms at the very sight of it. I try to push down the happy sensation in the pit of my stomach.

"Good," he replies. "That said, I have a favor."

"Shoot."

"But it involves Daryl."

I remove my hand from Rick's. "Okay, don't shoot."

And the Grimes tone of authority is back. "Spencer, I need you-"

"Rick," I begin to whine, but he speaks over me.

"You and Daryl are the best I've got for this job. It's important it gets done, and it will probably take over night."

I know that I can't deny anything from Rick. I'd jump off a building if this man told me to. The reluctance sounds heavy in my tone. "What is it, then?"

"We're low on gas, for pretty much all the vehicles. Now, the problem is we've already drained almost of the vehicles in the nearby town, so you'll be driving about an hour away. You'll be far from the prison in case you need anyone."

I picture me and Daryl, alone, in an hour long car ride, pretending that feelings don't exist. "Is it just us?"

"The Walkers keep crowding around the fence. I can't afford to send anyone else with you. We almost couldn't even get into the gate, today."

He's right. Everyone's been doubling up on fence duty lately. If we don't figure out something soon, we might lose the fence, and who knows what we'll do then. Reinforcing won't do anything if we can't get this first issue taken care of first. And I know that Rick wouldn't ask this of me if he didn't need me to do it. He wouldn't just put me in an uncomfortable situation without thinking about it first. If Daryl and I are the ideal choices for this run, then damn it, we are. I guess I'll just have to put up with some of the awkward and be a big girl.

"Fine, I'll do it."

"You will?" He almost sounds like he wasn't expecting me to agree.

"What?"

"Thought it'd take a little more convincing."

I shrug. "I trust you. What else can I say?"

And then he smiles, and it's a smile I haven't seen before. It seems happy, and almost slightly bashful, a side of him I'm not used to. "That means a lot."

I hold up a hand. "This conversation's getting too deep." I can't help the chuckle in my voice.

"Okay, okay."

We both get up at the same time. "I'm going to go relax before fence duty," I say, scooping up my CD's.

We push in our chairs, and before we part ways, he says, "Thank you, Spence."

My back is already turned. "I said too deep, Rick!"

I hear him laugh.