Unwelcome Wagon

Daryl Dixon poured another cup of coffee that wasn't doing a good job of curing his hangover and leaned on the bannister of his rundown front porch to see who was moving into the house next door. Maybe it would be some hot woman who like to sun bathe topless in her back yard. More likely it would be some family with too many kids and a dad that came home drunk and beat on the family. Like his dad.

There was a kid out in the yard. A little girl wearing a red jacket. Maybe she would have the hot mama with a propensity for raising her odds of getting skin cancer. There was a minivan in the driveway and that made him think there was going to be a shitload of rug rats next door.

A slim silver haired woman came out of the house and said something to the little girl that made her smile. No hot mama. Just someone's old granny who probably would bring him cookies and ask him to church. She was even wearing a flowered sweater that made his eyes hurt. Fuck that.

Granny and Little Red Riding Hood started carrying boxes into the house. He had to give Granny credit, for an old lady she moved fast and carried bulky looking boxes. If he was a gentleman he would be going over there to help, but he wasn't no gentleman. Little Red was working hard too. Granny pulled out her third box and Daryl knew right off that it was too heavy. Just from how difficult it was to pull out of the van cargo area.

Fuck. He was carrying one box and then he was getting the hell out. Stupid bitch shouldn't have put so much in the box to start with. Daryl put down his coffee and ambled over. Granny was still staring at the box like she was going to transport it through mind control. He cleared his throat, "Wait just a damn minute and I'll get that."

Granny turned toward him. Silver hair she might have but she was probably about his age. Which meant she wasn't any spring chicken but not ready for the nursing home either. Blue eyes like a cold winter sky and her skin was too pale for nude sunbathing. Cool and collected. Frosty. In short a stuckup bitch.

Frosty gave him a nod. "That's very kind of you, but I think I can do it."

That pissed him off for some reason. "I ain't got all day, but I will pick this up and put it wherever you want. I'll leave the rest for you." Daryl didn't bother to sound all polite.

Frosty looked inside the van. Lots of boxes. "Thank you, I accept your kind offer. My name is Carol Peletier and this is my daughter, Sophia." She held out her hand.

"Daryl Dixon. I live next door". Her hand was thin and delicate looking but there was strength in her grip. She moved out of the way and he picked up the box. Really heavy but he wasn't about to let Frosty know. "Where do you want this set?"

"On the back porch". That wasn't too far and he managed to make it look a lot easier than it really was.

"What is in this box?" Probably her grandmother's dishes or some shit.

"My tools." She probably meant her cookies cutters or baking dishes.

Fuck, she was going to make him ask. "What kinda tools would you be using?"

Frosty didn't like his attitude that was for sure. "Mr. Dixon, I use power tools to work on houses. This house is going to require some renovation. Thank you for your help. Someone else packed up the tools. I always have them in two boxes. "

He was being dismissed. That pissed him off somehow. "I'm going to help you carry the rest of this in. That is my good deed for the damn day. Then I'm going to take my motorcycle for a long run." Daryl marched back to the van, "You get on the front porch and I'll carry them that far and you can do the rest."

Frosty was pissed off at him going all caveman on her. She was shooting blue ice out of her eyes but she kept her mouth shut. She might be a frosty bitch but she wasn't stupid.

Daryl lifted the boxes like they were filled with tissue paper even if he was making little grunting sounds cause they were fucking heavy. He put the light ones in the front room and carried the heavy ones to where ever Frosty wanted them.

The last box went into the kitchen which was a real mess. "Needs some work," he grunted. Little out of breath, gotta quit the smokes.

Frosty surveyed the room, "It's a disaster, but it has good bones. Good space and there is hardwood underneath the linoleum. The house has potential but it will take lots of work."

She sounded almost happy about that. "Your husband a handy man?"

She iced up then, "My husband is dead, Mr. Dixon."

Mr. Frosty probably died of hyperthermia living with the Ice Queen. "I'm sorry to hear that." What the fuck do you say when someone tells you that their husband is dead?

The Ice Queen lowered her voice, "I wasn't sorry to hear that. Happiest day of my life when the policeman told me that Ed Peletier had been crushed by an out of control semi."

She might be an Ice Queen but she was no hypocrite. Ed must have been an asshole of the highest order. A woman relieved that her husband was dead was a woman afraid of her husband.

Daryl smirked, "I'm not calling you Mrs. Peletier anymore. So how about you call me Daryl and I'll call you Carol. I am getting my ass out of here before you find more work for me to do."

He took the bike for a long ride and cleared his head. There wasn't anything in the house to eat and he stopped at his favorite bar to eat. He was chomping on a greasy burger and thinking about stopping to get a six pack on the way home when a mistake plopped into the booth beside him.

The mistake was about thirty but looking like she was pushing forty. "Daryl, haven't seen you for a while." Not nearly long enough.

The reason he hadn't seen her was that waking up with her beside him a month ago had almost made him quit drinking. He was avoiding anywhere he thought she might be. She was good looking enough but she was a damn stalker. He had banged her once in the parking lot last year and she had stalked him ever since. Daryl didn't even remember getting drunk with her last month. Had she put something in his drink? He had gotten her out of his house and vowed never to return to that bar. Hadn't heard anything from her since then. Daryl managed a weak grin, "Been busy working, didn't know you worked here."

"Just started last week. You hang out here tonight and we can go home after. Have some fun."

No way in hell was he starting that again. "I'm dating someone now. Might get serious. So no more fun for me."

Tiffany gave him a suspicious look, "You ain't dating anybody. You just work and watch television. Where did you find a girl?"

He chewed his hamburger slowly. Tiffany was a crazy bitch but she was cunning. Like a wolf stalking her prey. Where would he find someone to date? Like take her to the movies kinda date. "She lives in my neighborhood. She's my neighbor. Nice woman."

"What's her name?" All lies have to have some basis of truth. Merle had taught him that.

"Carol." She had used him today to pack her boxes and around and he was going to use her to get this weight off his neck. "She's a real lady. We got something good going between us."

Tiffany pouted, "You'll come find me when she dumps you. Maybe I won't be there just waiting."

Daryl finished his meal, "Gotta go, Carol has some honey do projects lined up. So I better scoot."

Tiffany walked him to the door, "You gonna sell the bike and buy a minivan?"

Daryl smirked, "She already has a minivan."

He roared into his driveway. He liked to gun the motor a little then. Drove the neighbors crazy. There was a truck in Carol's driveway. Little Red was in the yard talking to that little shit Carl Grimes. Carol and the hot blond from across the street were talking. The hot blond was married to a cop and Carl was their son. He gave Carol and hot blond a slow once over. Just enough to let them know that he wasn't no damn pussy.

The two women gave him a reproving looking and he swaggered into his house. No minivans for the Daryl. He still rode a noisy bike and he would have had some beer but he forgot to stop and get it. He found a bag of chips and some soda. His big screen television was calling his name. His back was acting up and he wanted to lie on his couch and watch the history channel. Maybe turn it up loud. It was a Saturday.

He finished his soda and went in search of something else to eat. A pizza delivery car was parked next door. Carol was probably busy unpacking and ordered a pizza. Damn, he was still hungry. Granny hadn't dropped off any cookies to the big bad wolf next door. He thought about going to a grocery store and actually buying food. He could take the truck and get enough for next week. The keys were by the door and he saw Carol walking up his driveway carrying a pizza box.

Daryl contemplated not answering the door. She had people over there. She didn't need him, but he dragged himself toward the door when she knocked. She smiled at him and handed him the box. "I appreciate you help. I gave Eric a good scolding for loading so much in those boxes. He and Aaron had to go somewhere and didn't make it here to help unload. Enjoy the pizza."

"You didn't have to get me a pizza." Daryl reached for it anyway. It smelled good and he was hungry.

Carol wasn't paying any attention to him. She was looking at his front door. "I have the same door and the same glass on either side. I think both houses were built at the same time." She eyed his not too clean carpet. "There is probably oak flooring underneath. That is the original windows too. Yes, it very much like mine. Classic craftsman design. Daryl, you should come over and talk to Eric and Aaron. We've been brainstorming projects for my house."

What the fuck is a classic craftsman? "Those are the two assholes who over loaded those boxes? They can brainstorm how to fix my back."

She looked at him sternly, "This could be a beautiful house. A little work but worth it." Her lips quirked a bit and he suspected that she was laughing at him which normally would have pissed him off but she had brought him pizza. "The history channel can wait."

Daryl frowned at her, "I'm leaving my pizza here."

Eric and Aaron turned out to be two gay guys who renovated houses. Aaron did something with the CDC and Eric worked with Carol doing something with computers. They had brought beer to go with their pizza and they really seemed to know what they were talking about when it came to working on houses. Carol even loosened her ass up a little around them.

He went home before dark with the leftover beer. Pizza in the refrigerator for breakfast. He turned on the television and searched around for a channel specializing in home renovation. One of his mother's sisters had left this house to him. He remembered her from his mother's funeral. She had asked his father if he would let "the boys" come and visit. Dad crushed his hopes with a solid, "Fuck no." She had left Merle money which he couldn't use because he was in the pen for another three years and he got the house.

Daryl decided to hang out with the gay guys and Carol long enough to learn how to fix this place up. Then he could sell it and make enough money to get the hell out of this town. Maybe buy a cabin somewhere. Do something but drift along.

He went to sleep that night on the couch the way he usually did. The windows were open and the air felt good. Things were looking up for him.

AN

Daryl is a work in progress.

I love me some house porn. Good to know that Buttercup does too.

So how do you like it so far?