Daryl had always thought he was subtle when he checked out some dude.

He had to be, with Merle almost constantly by his side, loud and obnoxious, and about as enthusiastic about fairies as he was about spending time in jail. So, the younger had never told him that he was, in fact, as gay as the day was long. He hadn't been with a lot of guys, having to sneak out the shack they called home at night, when Merle was passed out on the shabby couch, to quickly pick up some guy from a gay bar or club, fuck them in some dark alley, and get back. It was all he had ever known, and never minded it. It wasn't like any of those guys were looking for more, and even if they had been, they sure as hell wouldn't have picked him for it.

And so, when Daryl checked out the cop standing at the bar, back turned to Daryl, the archer didn't expect to be caught. And fuck, that man did have a nice ass, he could tell, even through the not-so-flattering khaki uniform pants. Daryl wanted to see that ass in a nice, tight pair of jeans, wanted to put his hands on firm mounds and squeeze. He tore his eyes away as quickly as he could, mourning the fact that if cops hung out here, Merle wouldn't want to come back, and this had probably been his only chance to check out the mans backside.

Merle was speaking to him, and Daryl gave a grunt of acknowledgment, despite not really listening. His brother was getting to the point of intoxication where the words came out half formed, making it hard to distinguish where one word ended, and the other began. Not that the rambling was anything worth listening to. Something about 'Damn Mexicans' and 'Should build a fucking wall' no doubt, because those were Merle's favorites right now.

It took conscious effort to not let his eyes drift back to what he really wanted to be looking at, and so instead, the archer chose to settle on the back of the cops head. His hair was brown, with curls, and the redneck allowed himself a second to imagine what it would feel like to run his fingers through those locks, maybe tug at them a little.. 'God, enough already', he thought, bringing up the thumb of his right hand, chewing on the skin to calm himself. He hadn't even seen the guys face yet, and he prayed to a god he didn't really believe in that when the man turned around, his face would be off putting, and maybe then Daryl could move on.

Either god really didn't exist, or he was sadistic fuck. A second after Daryl had finished his little prayer, the cop turned around, carrying glasses of beer in his hands, making his way back to the group of colleagues that sat at a round table in one of the bars corners. The motherfucker wasn't just handsome, he was gorgeous. Clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, a mouth that looked like it was fucking made for sin. And then he was locking eyes with the very possibly most attractive man Daryl had ever seen, realizing that he must have been staring, because the cops eyebrow was quirked, perfect mouth curled into a tiny, knowing smile.

Embarrassment flooded Daryl so violently, he couldn't bare spending another second in the same room with that man. Not just because he had been caught checking him out, but because he had been actually fucking staring, damn close to drooling all over a fucking stranger.

"Lets go." He told Merle, grabbing his brother by the arm and tugging.

"Ey, was yer hurry Darleena?" Merle slurred back, leaning against the chairs back, using his weight to keep himself seated. "I like it here."

"Don' need ta sit 'round with no cops man." Daryl spat, standing in a fluid motion. "Got other bars in this shit town."

"Hey, calm down now lil' brother." Merle was grinning at him, eyes glassy with alcohol. "'m having a good time here. Like lookin' at the lil lady at the bar, think she has a thing fer me. Don' wanna go no where else. So why don' you go outside, have a smoke, an' cool yer tits?"

"Fuck you." Daryl growled, grabbing the keys to the car and storming out. Two steps out of the damn bar, however, he slowed. He wasn't going to leave his brother alone and piss drunk in the company of a group of fucking cops. He couldn't. Merle would get himself arrested, that was just how he was, and an arrest would mean breaking his probation. So there was no way Daryl could just jump into the truck and leave, and Merle fucking knew it. Frustrated with himself, the archer grabbed the pack of smokes from his pocket, pulling one out to lodge it firmly between his lips, fishing for the lighter for a few moments before finally being able to inhale the first lung full of nicotine.

It was a horrible habit, one he had tried to quit over and over again. But whenever he had decided he would try to go without, some shit came up. Merle back in prison, being bitched at by his moron boss for no good reason, not being able to hit on a ridiculously hot police man in a bar..

"Shit." He grunted, shaking his head and taking another drag. It had never felt like this before, not once. He'd never been that attracted to anyone after just a second of looking at them, and it was unsettling to say the very least. He best not return to that bar, avoid all chance of him running into the man of his wet dreams again. Still, those eyes would haunt him for days , if not weeks to come, no doubt.

"Hey." The voice startled Daryl so much, he spun around, dropping his cigarette to the ground. The very man Daryl had been trying to avoid was now standing before him, giving him a crooked grin, thumbs pushed through loops of his belt. And of fucking course, his voice was perfection, low and smooth, with just a hint out authority shining through.

"Hey." He replied, more out of reflex than anything else, before finally noticing he had dropped his smoke. Cursing below his breath, he pulled out the pack again, begrudgingly noticing he had only two more left. It wasn't long before his attention was drawn back to the officer, as he was once more addressed.

"Think I could have one?" The Adonis asked, jerking his chin toward the cigarettes. Normally, Daryl wouldn't have given away his last smoke, and intended to tell the man to fuck off, as he would have with anyone else. Instead, strangely, he grunted and nodded, handing over the cigarette he had retrieved, pulling out the one that had been left behind.

"Got a lighter, too?"

"Ya need me ta smoke it fer ya too, Officer?" Daryl snarked, immediately regretting his comment and tensing, because now there was even less of a chance, if there had ever been one at all. Instead of retorting, however, the officer just laughed, a rich sound that Daryl couldn't help but adore.

"Nah, but I'll come back when I'm done so ya can put it our fer me." The cop teased, quirking his brown at the archer as he had done before, making Daryl want to squirm. "Ya gonna give it ta me?"

Daryl brain short circuited, unable to stop the tremble that shot down his spine, biting down on his lower lip to hold in a pathetic little whine. Those words coming from this mans mouth were enough to make Daryl want to push him up against the wall, press himself against that broad chest and just- No. This was not how this was going to go, so his cock could fucking stand down. The cop was probably straight, and way out of Daryls league. Moments had passed in silence, and when Daryl felt like he could move again, he offered his lighter to the other male silently.

"Thanks." He watched as Adonis lit his smoke before handing it back, giving Daryl a short nod. "I'm Rick. Rick Grimes."

"A'right." Was all the archer could come up with in response. Rick Grimes. The name suited him, Daryl thought, allowing himself a quick glance at Ricks face.

"Gonna tell me yer name?" Rick asked, once more regarding Daryl with an expression that screamed he fucking knows .

"Why should I?" Daryl grunted, forcing himself to turn away from Rick, taking a shaky drag. Years of tracking and hunting in the woods had honed Daryls senses, and fuck, he could feel Rick staring at him.

"'cause its polite." Rick replied evenly, and then he was moving closer, until Daryl could feel the heat of Ricks body against his back, making it even harder to keep himself together, to stay focused on smoking. "Don' ya wanna be polite fer me? Be a good boy fer me?"

Something deep within the redneck reacted to the last question, a part that Daryl hadn't even known existed, but had burst forward so forcefully he had to choke off another pathetic sound of want. No one had ever spoken to him like that. They had been intimidated by him, even the few twinks he had fucked. They had taken one look at him and decided that he wasn't the type to bottom, or do anything the sweet and gentle way. But Rick.. Daryl swallowed around the lump in his throat, desperately trying to fight the fluttering pleasure low in his abdomen, because he just couldn't be getting off on some jackass calling him a boy, making him submit to his rules-

"Come on. Tell me. Know ya can be a good boy fer me."

"Daryl. Dixon." The words came out before he could regain control of his treacherous body, could remind himself that this was wrong.

"Daryl." Rick repeated, almost softly, and hearing his name in that voice did things to Daryl. He wanted to hear Rick say it again and again, preferably while they were fucking vigorously. "Did good, Daryl. Real good."

Daryl shook his head, choosing not to answer, because if he couldn't manage to throw a punch or at least insult the man, he should just keep his mouth shut all together. It was confusing as fuck to feel the pleasure spreading through him at the praise, something Daryl had never experienced before. It was becoming too much to process, to much to bare really. He wanted to run and hide in the woods until it stopped, until he was himself again, except... In these brief moments he had felt like himself more than ever before. And fuck, if that wasn't a whole new level of weird. What was even weirder was how Rick seemed to pick up on his turmoil, moving away from the redneck. Or maybe he had just wanted a smoke and now that he did, he didn't want to be around Daryl anymore. He had said it himself, it was just polite to introduce himself to the guy, and that just made much more sense to the archer, the idea Rick wanted to be close to him was stupid-

"Gonna be here tomorrow. Without the guys. If ya wanna meet." Rick told him, and then Daryl could hear the cop moving away, granting him the room he had been wishing for so desperately a second ago.

"Fuckin' Rick Grimes." Daryl breathed, kicking at a small rock on the floor. "Fuck."

He promised himself he wouldn't go. Promised himself he'd wait for Merle to be too drunk to realize that Daryl was taking him home, and they'd never come back. He'd never see Rick fucking Grimes again. Would never let himself feel that little flutter again, because that was dangerous territory. Anything that felt that good had to be trouble, he just knew it. And he had enough on his plate as it was.

The cops had left long before Merle had finally had his fill, and Daryl was disappointed when Rick didn't even glance at him as they passed by, pissing him off even more. Because it didn't fucking matter if Rick looked at him. It wasn't going to happen.

When Daryl had finally managed to get Merle into the truck, his brother was completely wasted. Cringing a bit, Daryl hoped Merle wouldn't throw up in his truck again. The ride home wasn't exactly smooth once they turned onto the dirt road that lead to the run down shack, and he should have thought to bring a bag or some shit. Surprisingly, they got there without an incident, and Merle was soon sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep.

With his work done, Daryl moved into his own bedroom, although the term "bedroom" was being used loosely here. It was a small room that held a worn down mattress placed directly on the floor, with makeshift ashtrays and beer bottles surrounding it. His clothes laid in a duffel bag, all of them worn and faded. He couldn't afford to buy clothes, not even with a steady job, Merle pissing away the money Daryl made almost as quickly as it was earned, mostly for booze and meth. It was frustrating, as much was in his life, to work day after day, and never be able to afford buying something for yourself. But Merle was kin, was his blood, and he'd do anything for his family.

Daryl didn't bother to undress, toeing off his shoes and socks before settling on his mattress, pulling the worn blanket over his body, sighing deeply. Winter was coming. He'd have to buy a space heater, and thicker blankets, or they'd freeze. That meant money being hidden from Merle, which was a problem in itself. When Merle was craving another hit, nothing in the shack was safe. He'd go through every corner to find cash, had even pawned Daryls tv one day, just so he could get high. Daryl, of course, had been livid, had yelled and thrown punches, only to be knocked out cold by a hit to the head. And that was that.

Groaning, Daryl rolled himself onto his stomach, burying his head into the flat pillow, wishing he could just drown out all the shit in his life and sleep. And that's when his mind jumps to the image of Rick, replaying the cops words in his mind.

"Don' ya wanna be polite fer me? Be a good boy fer me?"

"No." Daryl rasped to the empty room, biting down on his lip as the memory made his cock twitch with interest. He wasn't going to do this. He wasn't. Ignoring his body, Daryl stubbornly remained still, fingers curling into the flimsy sheet below him. But he couldn't stop picturing Rick, no matter how hard he tried to think of anything. His cock was getting hard, begging for attention. But he wasn't going to do this. Daryl refused to jerk off thinking about the smug cop, about how it would feel to have Rick pressed up against his back, hard cock rubbing against his ass, hot and long and perfect..

Come on. Tell me. Know ya can be a good boy fer me.

"Fuck.. N-No.." Daryl whimpered, unable to stop his hips from rocking into the mattress, slow and timidly at first, but picking up the pace steadily. Rick would be gorgeous without his clothes on, Daryl could just tell, his muscles would be defined, his skin would be soft.. Strong arms would wrap around Daryls chest, would keep him in place as Rick fucked into him roughly, growling and panting into the archers ears as he took him, marked and claimed him, and Daryl would let him, wanted to let him, wanted Rick to moan his name and spill into him, deep and hard, fill him with seed, and only then would he start jerking Daryl off, only then allow the redneck to reach his own peak, mumbling sweetly into his ear.

Did good, Daryl. Real good.

It took longer than it should have to claw his way back to reality, unsettling Daryl even more, once he was capable to think about what had just occurred. Namely being, him rubbing off on his mattress like a fucking teenager, and shooting off in his briefs untouched. It had been forever since he had felt such bliss after an orgasm, and that frightened the archer even more. Because Rick had woken something in him, something Daryl couldn't even begin to understand. He wanted to go back to that bar and punch him in the face. Wanted to beat the living fuck out of him for what he had done. Daryl knew he'd do neither. And not just because he didn't want to get arrested. Deep down, and without admitting it to himself, he knew that all really wanted to do was bend over and take whatever Rick gave him. Wanted to be praised by his Adonis. Wanted things he had never wanted before.

It was that moment that Daryl realized a simple truth.

He was fucking screwed.

As it turned out, Daryl wouldn't have made it to the bar the next night, even if he had decided to go.

Merle had woken late afternoon, after Daryl had already shot them two rabbits and a few squirrels, simply building a fire and roasting them on a stick. They had a semi working kitchen, but Daryl hadn't felt up to messing with their stove or oven. It wasn't like it made much of a difference, Merle would eat whatever the archer made after a night of drinking. Once he had rejoined the land of the living, and eaten his share, he had told to grab the keys to his truck and drive him to his dealer.

Daryl hated doing it, hated the skinny little kid, hated the smell that lingered throughout his house. Hated the way things could go from fine to fucking catastrophic within the blink of an eye. He tried to tell Merle to go himself, to take the truck and leave him the fuck alone, but the older Dixon insisted Daryl join him, so that he could drive him home. Meaning Merle didn't even intend to wait until they were home to get fucked up, and also that they'd be there for a while.

He tried to tell himself it was just as well, that he wouldn't have gone to meet Rick, and that this was better for everyone involved. But as time passed, as it got closer and closer to closing time for the bar, Daryl became more and more pissed off. Because even if he hadn't intended to do anything with Rick, he should have at least have shown up, told the cop that it wasn't happening. Because what if Rick was waiting for him, watching the hours tick by until finally giving up and going home? It wasn't likely, not really, but the nagging voice in Daryls head wouldn't quit whispering to him that just maybe, Rick really was sitting at that bar, be disappointed when the redneck didn't show. Daryl could barely stand the thought of it, but all his attempts to get Merle to leave failed.

They ended up getting home at four a.m., which gave Daryl two fucking hours before he had to get up again for work. On days like these, he really wished his life was different, that he didn't have to deal with a brother that wasn't only addicted to meth, but was a fucking jerk. That he could have a nice, cozy apartment with a real bed in it . Maybe even go out on a date with a guy he actually liked.

It was never going to happen. Daryl would probably die in this shack, like his old man had, alone and broke. He was wasting time wishing for things he knew he could never have.

Resigning to his fate, Daryl let himself drift asleep for what little time he had left before work, hoping that somehow, the day wouldn't be hell.

"Fucking hell, Merle." Daryl growled into his phone, sliding into the front seat of his truck, fumbling to get the keys into the ignition. "How the fuck did you get arrested in a fucking Wendy's?!"

"Hey now, lil brother, wasn' my fault! That kid at the cash register was gettin' snarky with me, an' I jus' told him ta keep his cock suckin' mouth shut, and.. it all jus' happened, ya know how it is."

"I don' give a fuck what he said, Merle. Yer on fuckin' probation." Daryl snapped, trying not to get too distracted while he drove to the precinct. "Yer gonna go back , ya know that?! An' I ain't visitin' yer sorry ass every weekend again, ya here me? I ain't gonna send you money, neither."

"Come on, Darleena. Both know that ain't true. Ya gonna come see me before they take me?" Daryl wanted to say no. He really did. Instead, he grunted and ended the call. He was always going to go see Merle, if only so he knew where they'd take him. He hated that Merle was right. He was going to visit his idiot brother whenever the prison allowed him to, and when Merle called and asked the archer to send some money, Daryl would head to the bank and get it done.

He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't cleaned up Merles mess.

The precinct was quiet that evening, Daryl was still in his work clothes, grease, motor oil and sweat clinging to his skin. He couldn't have been a pretty sight, with his hair in a state of disarray, scowling at everyone who dared to look at him for too long as he made his way to the reception.

"Lookin' fer my brother. Merle." He bit out, glaring at the petite woman sitting there. Carol, as Daryl had soon learned after a few visits to either bail Merle out, or see him before he went to do time, was a sweet woman. Daryl didn't usually snap at her as he would everyone else, but today, he simply couldn't do anything but spew venom.

"Oh, yes." Carol nodded, ignoring the archers behavior, going through some paperwork on the desk before her. "You made it just in time, they're about to get going. Come on, I'll take you."

Carol rose from her chair, leading the way, Daryl trailing behind her with his head down, until they had reached the cell Merle was currently sharing with two other men.

"Hey lil brother!" Merle greeted, grinning at him as if nothing was wrong, as if he wasn't about to fucking abandon Daryl again for the rest of the time he would have been on probation. "Ya look like shit."

"Well, least I ain' bein' thrown in a cell." Daryl snapped, eyes narrowing. "Fuckin' hell Merle.. Couldn' stay out of trouble fer one fuckin' day, could ya?!"

"Calm yer tits, Darleena. I'll be back home before ya know it." It was all he could do to keep his mouth shut. Because yelling at each other while surrounded by fucking cops was not going to change anything.

"Daryl." The archer lowered his head at Carols voice, knowing that this was where he had to step away and leave, so the cops could go in, cuff Merle, and take him away. He hated this part the most.

"Yeah." He replied quietly, taking a deep breath before stepping back, glancing up at Merle. "..See ya durin' visitation."

He didn't wait for a reply, spinning on his heel and leaving the precinct, once more feeling like he had been left behind by the one person he had left in his life.

The days passed, and without Merle around, Daryls life went a lot smoother. He had the car to himself, and the shack. He got to work on time, and always had enough hot water to take a proper shower. He didn't have to worry about being quiet while touching himself, because there was no one there to hear. He should have been ecstatic. Should have felt relief. Daryl didn't feel anything but profound loneliness.

He had thought about Rick every single night, wishing he had been able to get more time with the cop. That he had been able to meet him, and just sit side by side while drinking a cold beer. The cops presence had been comforting, in a strange way, and Daryl craved that comfort, wanting just a few minutes where he could close his eyes and pretend his life wasn't completely fucked up. He hadn't gone back to the bar, though, because by now, Rick had surely moved on to someone else. If he had been interested in Daryl at all, a thought that still seemed foolish to the redneck. Still, whenever he pictured Rick with another, female or male, he couldn't help the jealousy rising in his chest, wrapping itself around his heart, getting tighter with each day he didn't see Rick.

The fear of rejection kept Daryl away for all of two weeks, before he found his way back. He had chosen to sit at the bar this time, ordering a beer from the bartender, an Asian male today, not the girl Merle had been after. Rick, hadn't been there, but Daryl decided that he was already here, might as well have a drink.

So he sat there, slowly sipping, eyes downcast, his grip on the glass too hard. He shouldn't have let himself hope, shouldn't have allowed himself to think that maybe, Rick would be here, would have come here for him-

"Scotch. Single mold."

Daryl almost fell off the bar stool at the voice, feeling the tight knot in his stomach incinerate, because that voice could only be.. Daryl turned his head, and there Rick stood, right beside him, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, giving Daryl that smug little grin again. He'd been so in thought, he hadn't even noticed that someone had come up beside him, and that hadn't happened in.. fuck, he couldn't even remember.

"Hello Daryl." Rick said, accepting his own drink from the bartender, turning his body to face Daryl, their body only inches apart.

"Hello Rick." The reply came before Daryl could really think about it. All he knew was that Rick had told him to be polite, and if he was polite, he'd get praised. As disturbing as it was to the redneck, the small nod of approval from the cop made him feel.. something. Whatever it was, it helped him relax, the stress that had accumulated during the past two weeks seeping out of him.

"Haven' been here in a while." Rick continued, but this time, he sounded more serious. The smug grin was gone, and he was regarding the archer with an expression Daryl couldn't quite place.

"Yeah. Had shit ta do. Work, 'n stuff." He took another sip of his beer, his throat suddenly dry. Rick just kept looking at him, as if he was waiting for something.

"That all? Work?" He asked quietly, eyes so intense Daryl had to look away.

"..Brother got in trouble. Got arrested. Back in prison now." He should have lied, Daryl thought. He had never talked to anyone about Merle, about their situation. And fuck, here he was, spilling his guts in front of a cop. "Had ta. Jus'. Needed time. 'm sorry."

The archer didn't know if he had done well, if he had pleased Rick with his hushed confession, and apology. He couldn't bring himself to look up, to see the expression on Ricks face. If the cop was disgusted, he didn't want to see it.

"Whats he in for?" Rick inquired, finally settling onto the bar stool beside the redneck.

"Possesion." Admitted quietly, not wanting to broadcast this to the other patrons of the bar. This was something he wanted only Rick to know, as crazy as it sounded. He had just met this guy, hadn't even really spoken to him and yet..

"You do that too?" Daryl scoffed, shaking his head.

"Nah. I don' touch that shit. 's just Merle. I drink, smoke my cigarettes. 's it."

They fell silent after that, sipping from their drinks. It was the most comfortable Daryl had been with anyone in his entire life. Rick did things to him. Made him feel safe and relaxed, as if nothing could touch the archer, as long as he was close to Rick.

He had just finished off his beer when Rick stood, gingerly placing his fingertips on Daryls wrist. The skin to skin contact caused the archers skin to tingle, made his cheeks heat up, and shit, he couldn't be fucking blushing from a touch that innocent.

"Come on. Wanna smoke." It was a command more than anything else, and Daryl had no intention do defy Rick. He stood, paid his beer, and moved outside, Rick following him silently. Once outside, Daryl pulled out his cigarettes, handing one over to the officer before getting one for himself. It felt natural to defer to Ricks will, he realized, as they stood and smoked silently. In fact, it felt good. Handing off responsibility, even if it was only over small matters, like when to go out and smoke, or stay and have another drink.

"Ya got anyone but yer brother?" Daryl wanted to growl at that question. Wanted to tell Rick it was none of his business, because it really wasn't. He had always hated talking about his family, had avoided it even as a kid. He'd never wanted anyone's pity, had never wanted them to look at him like he was weak.

"Come on Daryl. Can tell me. I ain't gonna tell anyone else." Rick soothed, once more picking up on the sudden tension in the archers muscles, but this time he didn't back down. "Jus' wanna know more about ya."

"..Don' have no one else." Daryl had to force himself to say it, had to push the words out of himself, because no matter how comfortable he felt with Rick, this.. it was so personal, and Daryl had never done personal well. He expected Rick to say "I'm sorry", or some other bullshit thing people always said when they heard he was alone.

"Thank ya, Daryl. Fer tellin' me." Rick said instead, moving his hand to brush across Daryls wrist. "Bein' real good fer me."

And there it was again. That flutter low in Daryls stomach, making him want to gasp, to sink to his knees and nuzzle the cops strong thigh while strong fingers combed through his hair. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get closer. He wanted-.. Fuck, what did he want?

"Thinkin' so loud I can hear ya." Rick teased, his voice low, tone playful. "Whats on yer mind?"

And fuck it. He was going for it.

"You." Daryl snapped. "Been thinkin' 'bout you since the day I saw ya the first time. Don' know what ya wan' from me. Don' know why ya bother talkin' ta me."

"Well, let me tell you then." Rick relied smoothly, moving his lips right next to Daryls ear. The hot breath against his skin made Daryl shiver, but nothing had prepared him for what came next. "Wan' ta take ya home. Wan' ta tie ya to my bed, touch ya, taste ya.. Make ya beg fer it, like a good boy. An' then I wanna fuck ya so hard ya forget yer own name. 'till all ya can do is scream my name. Wanna make ya come so hard ya can't see straight."

And god fucking damn it, that was definitely one of the hottest things Daryl had ever heard, his cock going from soft to hard enough to cut glass within seconds, his entire body thrumming with desire, because that sounded like fucking heaven.

"Who said I'd let ya?" Daryl asked, despite his body's obvious reaction, that Rick had no doubt caught.

"Ya would." Rick sounded confident, and Daryl was torn between simply agreeing, and punching him in the face for being so fucking cocky. "But that ain't gonna happen tonight, anyway. Ain't ready yet, Daryl."

"What'cha mean, I ain't ready?" Daryl snapped. "Ain't no fuckin' virgin."

"I know yer not." Rick stated matter-of-factually, dropping his cigarette to the floor. "Jus' trust me when I say, yer ain't ready. Maybe I ain't, neither."

"Gettin' second thought about fuckin' the dirty, ugly redneck?" Daryl gruffed, fighting down the overwhelming sense of rejection, because this was obviously what it was about.

"That's enough." Daryls chin was grabbed roughly, and out of reflex alone, he took a swing at Rick, only to have his arm blocked, and pinned by his side. Rick was staring at him, eyes narrowed, lips set into a thin line. "Don' wanna hear ya talkin' 'bout yerself like that again, ya hear me? Ain't ugly. An' ya ain't dirty. Don' say that shit about yerself. You understand?"

Daryl was definitely out of his element here, thrown completely off balance by the cops actions. The grip on his chin was firm, but not painful, simply keeping his from breaking eye contact. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to fight, to get away from Rick and never look back, that this wasn't smart, wasn't right..

"Yeah. I- I understand." He chocked out, squirming ever so slightly.

"I wan' a whole sentence, Daryl." Rick demanded, leaning towards the archer until their lips were only inches apart. "Come on. Be good fer me."

"Not-." Daryl broke off, inhaling sharply as he felt his wrist being released, a broad hand placing itself on his hip, his body trembling at the proximity, cock so hard it was almost painful "Not gonna talk like that 'bout myself again. Gonna-. Gonna be good."

"That's it. Good boy." Rick breathed, pressing their foreheads together for the briefest moment before pulling back and releasing the redneck completely.

Daryl wanted to reply, wanted to say something, anything- But he couldn't come up with anything that made much sense. As it was, there was no time to say anything left. Seconds after Rick had stopped touching him, the cops phone started to ring. He watched Rick pull it from his pants, glance down at the screen, and sigh.

"Its work." He said, shaking his head. "Probably callin' me back in."

"A'right. Better get goin' then." Daryl shoved his hands into his pockets, head lowered.

"Can I see you again tomorrow?" Daryl wanted to say No. That this was too much, too intense, too-

"Yeah. I'll be here." Daryl glanced at the cop, biting his lower lip, hoping he didn't look half as nervous and disappointed as he felt.

"Thank you, Daryl. I'll see you then."

And with that, their ways parted for another night, leaving Daryl only one thing to look forward to.

He'd get to see Rick again tomorrow.