After that day, Ron and Carl feel closer. They don't talk about what happened, at least not yet, going on about their daily lives, hanging out with Enid and Mikey as usual and exploring more houses. Since Carl's group moved into the house that the three used to hang out in alone, they had to find a new one, choosing a tan house with a dark brown roof in the middle of the town. It's about the size of all the other houses; two floors with a decent sized open porch. Two rocking chairs sit on the porch, facing outwards. At one time an old couple would have sat together and watched other people in the community go about their daily lives, but now they're probably dead, eaten, or turned.
They have the whole house to themselves, since it's vacant, so they can hang out wherever they please. They chose the attic when they hung out in Carl's house, but now they chose to gather in the living room.
Like the other houses, there's a fireplace. It looks like it was never really used, even if there's logs placed inside of it, long forgotten. The floor is a light colored wood, a circular rug with a pleasing pattern in pastel colors placed in the middle of the room. They pushed the coffee table to the side so they could have more room, two of them sitting on the couch and two of them taking the floor. Sometimes they all go on the floor, sometimes they all gather on the couch. It depends on the day. They like to switch it up.
Enid brings her comics and Mikey brings his radio. It's almost like everything is back to normal again when they just sit around and talk or read comics while music plays softly in the background. It's almost like they're normal teenagers going about their normal life, just hanging out and enjoying their time together. It's an escape from the outside world, even if it's just for a few hours a day. And it's what they need, especially Carl and Enid, because being surrounded by such a grim environment really wears down a person psychologically.
They're all sitting around in the house they've made their own personal hangout, music playing quietly in the background just loud enough to be relaxing. It's some indie band that Enid has come to like, and at first the other three were iffy about it, but they've come to enjoy the band. Enid's reading, and the other three are holding a conversation. They bounce from one subject to another, all over the place, but it's still so nice to be talking to people so casually.
"Iron Man wouldn't win against Magneto," Mikey argues. "Magneto can control metal! What's Iron Man's power? His suit! His suit? Made out of metal!" He waves his hands as he talks, getting into the subject.
"Whatever, man. Iron Man is still awesome," Ron says, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I like Captain America," Carl chimes in.
"He's cute," Enid says, not looking up from her comic.
"I mean, I guess." Carl doesn't want to admit that he does think Cap is pretty cute, because he doesn't know if Mikey and Enid suspect him of being anything other than straight. He's never talked to them about sexuality. Only Ron knows that he's bisexual. He has no idea if the other two would be okay with it.
"Black Widow is hot," Mikey raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, she's pretty hot," Ron admits, nodding his head. "I like her with short hair though. Her long hair is pretty, but she's much hotter with short hair."
"We have our preferences, dude." Mikey shrugs, leaning back and bracing himself on his hands.
Carl huddles into the corner of the couch, curling up into a ball, comfortable. His gaze wanders over to Ron, who's lounging on the couch, legs stretched out in front of him, one arm draped over the side of the couch casually as he carries on the conversation with Mikey. He looks so laid back, chill. The way the corners of his mouth turn up and a mischievous glint catches his eye when he jokes around is incredibly attractive to the brunette. He wants to crawl in his lap and kiss him, wants to feel Ron's fingers in his hair and his lips on his neck, kissing lower and-
"You alright, man?" Mikey's voice brings Carl back to reality. "You okay?" He chuckles, waving at Carl.
"Yeah. Why?" Carl asks, defensive. He looks in between the three of them rapidly, and even Enid is looking up from her comic with a suspicious look in her eyes.
"You were staring at me, man," Ron laughs, and the sound makes Carl's heart beat faster. "Didn't think you even blinked."
"Sorry, sorry-" Carl laughs awkwardly, rubbing his eyes and blinking to get them wet again. "I just, uh, zoned out for a minute."
"Yeah, you did," Ron says, a joking tone to his voice. But there's something else there, something only Carl can detect, that makes a shiver run up his spine. There's a lazy smirk on Ron's face and the way he barely narrows his eyes as he looks at Carl makes the brunette's breath hitch. He really hopes no one else notices how he's being affected, because he can feel his face heating up.
"You're acting weird." Mikey narrows his eyes at Carl, looking him over. "You sure you alright, man?" He asks again, and the constant question has Carl even more flustered, Ron still giving him that look that makes his heart soar and heat pool in his belly.
"Y-Yeah, I'm fine!" He chuckles nervously. "But I think I might go home for a while, I'm a little hungry. I gotta get something to eat." He starts to get up from the couch, pulling on his shoes.
"Yeah, I'm gonna go, too. Mom probably needs help with chores," Ron makes up a bullshit excuse, and he doesn't care if the other two see through it. He just wants to get Carl alone; slipping on his shoes and tying the laces.
Mikey and Enid share a weird look, but Enid shrugs and goes back to her comic.
"We'll probably be here for a while if you guys wanna come back," Mikey explains, taking the opportunity to take a seat on the couch instead of the floor.
"Maybe," Carl says, already heading to the door with Ron close behind. "Maybe."
Like that, Ron and Carl are out the door, and alone.
"Your house," Ron whispers, so close to Carl's ear that it makes the brunette shiver. "Is that okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. That's fine," Carl breathes, starting towards his house. It's not too far away, but the silent walk alongside Ron is tense and it feels like forever. But they make it through the door and shut it behind them.
"Dad?" Carl calls out, and waits for a response. There is none. "Probably out with Michonne." He explains, heading up the stairs. Ron is right behind him, so close, and when he shuts the bedroom door behind him he turns around and he's so close to Ron that he can feel the boy's body heat radiating off of him.
They haven't talked about that day in almost two weeks. But it's been on both of their minds every day since then, the sexual tension becoming more and more unbearable as every day passed. That one look from Ron back at the hangout house finally unraveled Carl, and it seemed to have made Ron snap as well.
"Can I kiss you?" Carl suddenly asks, their faces already so close.
"Yeah. Yeah, you can," Ron's breath flows hot against Carl's lips. Both of them lean into each other, and Carl has to rock onto his toes to make himself taller to reach Ron's lips, hands going to grab the collar of Ron's shirt to pull him close. The kiss is close-mouthed at first, and they pull back after a few seconds.
"Your lips are soft." One of Ron's hands come up to cup the side of Carl's face, his thumb pressing against Carl's plump lips. His finger traces along them until it rests on his cheek, feeling the heat of the brunette's skin under his palm.
"Can I kiss you again?" Carl asks again, breathing uneven.
"Hell yeah." Ron smirks and pulls Carl into a kiss that's deeper, open-mouthed, and dirty. Carl's lips moves against Ron's awkwardly, but he tries his best to keep up. Ron is such a good kisser, and Carl's knees feel weak. The way his mouth moves against Carl's has the shorter boy's head spinning, everything around them forgotten as the kiss gets deeper and deeper.
He feels Ron's tongue against his lips, and allows it to enter his, their tongues awkwardly intertwining. Even if the kisses are a little uneven and rushed, it still feels nice, and has Carl grabbing fistfuls of Ron's shirt to keep him close, keeping him from pulling away. Ron's hand still rests on the side of Carl's face, the other resting on the brunette's shoulder, blunt fingernails digging into the fabric of Carl's flannel.
The shorter boy moans into the kiss, and that seems to spur the other boy on. He shuffles backwards towards the bed, guiding Carl along with him. He flips their positions so he can lower Carl onto the bed. He has the brunette on his back, his hat knocked off and forgotten off to the side, leaving his hair a little messy. Ron cards his fingers through the boy's soft hair, the other hand placed palm down on the bed beside Carl's head, bracing him up so he doesn't crush the other boy. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the mood by falling on him.
The hand in Carl's hair traces down the side of Carl's face, the brunette leaning into the touch like a cat being pet as they continue to kiss messily. Ron's fingertips gently brush over Carl's throat, making the boy whimper against his lips. He didn't know how sensitive his neck could be, but just the slightest touch made his blood run hot and pulse quicken.
Ron's hand continues to trace lower and lower, over Carl's clothed chest and stomach, only to reach its destination; placing his palm flush against Carl's crotch. The brunette tenses up for a moment, breathing uneven.
"Is this okay?" Ron breaks the kiss for a moment to whisper against the other boy's lips, hand beginning to slowly rub against the boy, already feeling him getting hard under his palm.
"Y-Yeah," Carl whimpers, nodding his head. He doesn't know where to put his hands, so they end up at his sides on the bed, clawing at the sheets.
He's never had anyone else touch him in this way, never had anyone kiss him. Not only did he just get his first kiss, there's already a hand almost down his pants. He's used to the feeling of his own hand touching him, and it's exciting, but the feeling of Ron's hand, even if his jeans are in the way, is even more exciting, making his whole body feel like fire.
Ron kisses him when he starts to massage Carl through his jeans. The kisses are slower now, but still uneven and sloppy. The brunette is having a hard time focusing on making out when he's being touched so intimately for the first time. He's already hard, straining against his jeans. He can't stop the embarrassing sounds from coming out of his mouth, the fact that he's very vocal already is so hot to Ron, and it just makes him want to touch Carl even more.
When Ron pulls his hands away and gets up, he whines, thinking he's done something wrong.
"W-What's wrong?" Carl stammers, confused.
"Nothing, nothing-" Ron grins. "Just switching positions. Move for a second." Carl does what he's told, and Ron sits at the head of the bed with his legs stretched out. Carl shivers when he can see that Ron is excited to, can see how hard he is through his pants. "Sit on my lap, c'mere." Ron pats his thighs, and Carl swallows before he climbs onto the blond's lap, straddling him. He can feel Ron's hardness against him. Ron's hands rest on his hips, and Carl's hands rest on Ron's shoulders. This position is much more comfortable, and Carl feels so much closer to the other boy. He likes it.
"Comfortable?" Ron asks as he leans forward and places a kiss on Carl's jawline.
"Y-Yeah," Carl breathes, tilting his head to the side so Ron can have more access to his neck. Ron takes the hint, because he starts to places soft kisses all over Carl's neck, hands gently stroking the boy's hips through his shirt. After a few moments, the kisses get a little harsher and Carl can feel Ron's teeth against his skin. He doesn't hate the feeling. It hurts a little bit, but at the same time, it makes his dick twitch in his jeans, lips parting in a lewd moan as he rocks his hips against Ron's lap, relieved at the pleasure it gives him.
Ron's hands go down to the front of Carl's jeans, awkwardly fumbling with his belt buckle and button before he unzips them, one hand going back as an anchor on Carl's hip and the other stays at Carl's crotch, dipping into his boxers and pulling out his arousal. The brunette gasps as he feels Ron's hand wrap around him and start to stroke him, the blond's hands so warm against his flesh.
"R-Ron…" He moans, clinging onto the other boy, wanting to be as close as possible to him. Ron's mouth still works over his throat as he strokes him, and Carl is mortified, because he already feels so close. But both the sensations and the warmth and closeness of Ron is just so much to handle. "Ron...Ron...I'm close…"
Ron doesn't respond, but he starts stroking Carl faster, twisting his wrist when he strokes upwards. That moves makes Carl dizzy, and he can still feel Ron's teeth on his neck, sucking on his skin. It doesn't occur to him that there will be marks there afterwards.
As Carl gets closer, he rocks his hips up into Ron's hand, gripping the boy's shoulders tightly. He continues to whimper and moan, hoping that Rick didn't come back home yet. The last thing he wants is for his dad to catch them like this.
"Fuck, fuck," Carl curses. Before he can warn him, he's coming over Ron's hand, body tensing up as his orgasm rips through him. It washes over him in strong waves, making him feel weak, clinging onto Ron for dear life as he saw stars.
It takes him a minute to come back to reality and realize what just happened. He's leaning against Ron, head resting on the boy's shoulder as he breathes shakily, whole body feeling sensitive to every touch.
Ron pulls his hand away from Carl's cock, and the little touch makes Carl wince; Ron wiping his hand on a towel that's laying on the carpet next to the bed.
"You alright?" Ron chuckles, patting Carl's back with his now clean hand.
"I think you broke me," Carl laughs, pulling his head off of Ron's shoulder. His cheeks are pink, eyes lidded, and lips reddened from kissing.
"That good?" Ron presses a quick kiss to Carl's lips.
"Never really...had anyone touch me like that before," Carl admits, his breathing starting to come back to normal. He still shakes a little bit, the feeling of post-orgasm bliss making him relaxed and kind of tired. He realizes he can still feel Ron's hardness against his ass, and he doesn't want to leave the other boy hanging. "Can I…touch you?" He asks.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Ron says.
"No, No- I want to. I really want to," Carl nods frantically. He scoots back a little bit so that he can get to Ron's pants, taking a deep breath before unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Carl's member is still out of his jeans, but he doesn't care. He just wants to focus on Ron for now.
He pulls Ron out of his underwear and he just looks at him for a moment. He's never seen a dick other than his own, so it's weird to see Ron's. It's not ugly, it's not bad, it's just weird. But he still wraps his hand around it and starts to stroke him slowly. He watches as his hand goes over the hardness, feeling the heat from it on his palm.
"Is this okay?" He asks, gaze flicking up to Ron's face for a moment.
"Yeah, yeah," Ron lets out a shaky breath, nodding. "Keep going."
Carl complies, his strokes getting a little faster. He takes a second to spit on his palm before going back to stroking, the spit easing the way. It obviously makes it feel better, because Ron moans, and if he didn't just cum, Carl would be getting hard again.
He gets a passing thought in his mind that he wants to say, but he thinks it over for a moment before he says anything aloud.
"Can I, uh… use my mouth on you?" Carl asks, looking to the side. He bites his lip, waiting for an answer.
"Holy shit, yeah," Ron is enthusiastic, sounding breathless as he agrees. "I'll sit on the side of the bed so you don't have to lay down all weird."
"Okay," Carl nods, sliding off the bed and onto the floor on his knees, Ron taking his spot on the side of the bed, legs spread enough for the shorter boy to fit between them. This position is much easier for Carl to reach Ron's crotch, but it's also much easier to see it. Ron is average size, but he's still a little bigger than Carl. There's a little drop of fluid at the tip, and when Carl wraps his hand around Ron again, he uses the pad of his thumb to wipe that drop away, smearing it around the head. The action makes Ron suck in a breath.
Carl doesn't know exactly what to do, but he leans forward and simply licks the head. He didn't expect how it would taste. It's bitter, but not all unpleasant. Ron obviously keeps himself clean, so it's not disgusting.
He keeps his hand wrapped around the base to keep Ron's dick in place as he licks the tip again, trying to get use to the odd taste. He makes a bold move and wraps his lips around the head, his tongue still working on the skin. Ron lets out a shaky sigh, gaze not leaving the boy in front of him. The picture of Carl on his knees sucking dick is something he'll never forget. Even if he is inexperienced, the air of innocence Carl has to him as he licks and sucks nervously is so fucking hot to Ron for some reason. He wants to make this boy as sexual as he can, corrupt him. Carl obviously enjoys everything so far, but he wants to push him (with his consent, of course) to see how far he'll go, to see what kinks he has and what gets him off.
With his lips still wrapped around the head, he goes lower and lower, and gets about halfway before he gags. He pulls back and swallows.
"S-Sorry, sorry," Carl apologizes.
"It's fine. Just take it easy, okay? Don't push yourself." Ron's hand goes down to run his fingers through Carl's messy hair, soothing him. The action calms the boy down, and he takes a deep breath before leaning forward and wrapping his lips around the head of Ron's cock.
He continues to lick at the head, but he wants to try and get more of the other boy in his mouth again. Breathing through his nose, he lowers his head slowly, little by little. Ron's fingers in his hair continues to calm him down, and he gets the boy halfway down his throat. He stills, all of his focus going into not gagging, swallowing around Ron's cock. The feeling of Carl's warm throat working around him makes Ron moan, his grip tightening on Carl's hair.
"Holy shit," Ron groans, not taking his eyes off of the image in front of him. Carl flicks his gaze up to Ron's, locking eyes. With their gazes connected, Carl brings his head back, but not far enough to pull back completely, his lips still wrapped around the head of Ron's dick, before going back down again, getting a little more than halfway this time. Ron can tell that Carl's trying his hardest not to gag, but he knows the boy can take it.
Carl pulls back for a moment.
"Am I doing okay?" He takes a few deep breathes. His lips are red from kissing, his cheeks pink and pupils blown out with lust.
"Yeah, yeah, you're doing great," Ron chuckles, finding Carl's being eager to please adorable. He can't get over how submissive, how good the boy looks on his knees. He feels honored to be the first one to see him like this.
With that validation, Carl goes back to the task at hand. He thinks for a moment before using his hand gripping Ron's dick at the base and points it at a different angle, more upward, so that he can plant his tongue at the bottom and slowly lick to the top, all while keeping eye contact with Ron. Ron shudders, so Carl repeats what he just did, only making Ron whimper.
Carl goes back to wrapping his lips around the head and swirling his tongue over the tip, taking his time with bobbing his head up and forth; making sure to keep his tongue moving with different strokes since Ron seems to enjoy it.
"C-Carl," Ron stutters, breathing coming quicker. "I'm gonna cum."
Carl moans around Ron's length in response, and the vibration only pushes Ron closer to climax. He doesn't stop what he's doing, continuing to bob his head and lick at the hardened flesh, giving it his all.
"Carl, Carl-!" Ron tugs Carl back by his hair just in time for him to cum. He cums in thick white ropes across Carl's face, getting in his hair, on his cheek, and almost in his eye. It's the best orgasm he's ever had, and it takes him a few moments to gather himself together again.
"S-Sorry," Ron chuckles breathlessly, taking a mental picture of Carl's face covered in cum. He has such a filthy, debauched expression; eyes lidded and cheeks stained pink, reddened lips parted as he tries to get his breathing under control, and hair sticking out in every direction with cum dripping from his long bangs.
"I-It's fine," Carl grins, a stupid, spaced out grin. He looks satisfied with himself, almost proud. "Did I do alright?"
"Obviously," Ron laughs. "Look at your face. We should get you cleaned up."
Carl pulls his hand back from Ron's dick and reaches for a towel on the floor that's been used, bringing it up to his face and trying his best to wipe off the cum.
"Here, lemme help." Ron takes the towel from him and carefully wipes down Carl's face, doing his best to get all of it out of Carl's hair. It's difficult to, because it sticks to the strands and makes the wet hair clump together. He'll have to wash it, because even after a few minutes of trying to get it all out with the towel, it still looks shiny and wet. "That's a little better." He drops the towel back to the side. "C'mere." He tugs on the collar of Carl's shirt.
"Thanks." Carl smiles, and he takes the hint and climbs up into Ron's lap. Ron presses a kiss against Carl's lips, and Carl kisses back. It's a slow, tired kiss, and Ron can taste himself on Carl's tongue, but he doesn't care. He just wants Carl close to him.
By this point, the sun is beginning to set. Outside the window and beyond the walls of the town, the sunset casts hues of pink and orange over the horizon. People are starting to go back into their homes for the night, and those watching the gate switch their shifts. That means Rick is coming home for the night, because downstairs, he comes through the front door. Both of the boys don't hear it, too lost in the moment and basking in the afterglow of their bliss.
"Carl?"
A knock on the door makes both of the boys jump and pull away from each other, Carl scrambling off of Ron and beside him on the bed, both of them pulling their pants up and zipping them up.
"I'm here!" Carl calls out, trying not to sound too panicked.
The door opens, revealing Rick in his uniform that Deanna had given him and Michonne. He looks over the two boys for a moment, saying nothing. "Where's Enid and Mikey? They busy or something? Hi, Ron."
Ron awkwardly waves at Rick in response.
"Yeah, they're busy," Carl lies, shaking his head. He hopes that Rick can't tell what just happened, hopes that he can't sense it in the air. "So, uh, me and Ron just decided to hang out here. We lost track of time." He spares a glance at Ron, who kind of smirks back at him.
"That's fine. But, Ron, your mother probably wants you home before it gets too dark," Rick suggests.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Ron sounds a little annoyed, but he gets up and brushes himself off. "I should go back now, then. See you tomorrow, Carl?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow." Carl smiles, doing a little wave. Ron winks back at him before he steps out along with Rick, the door closing behind them, leaving Carl alone.
Now that he's alone, what just happened hits him. His cheeks heat up all over again and his skin tingles, heart racing. He brings a hand up to his face and touches where his hair is sticky. The cum they couldn't wipe out of his hair is cooling, and even if it feels gross, the memory from minutes before of Ron cumming on his face makes his blood run hot and he can already feel himself getting hard again.
He wills himself to get up and strip himself of his clothing, leaving everything strewn over the carpet; grabbing a clean towel that's hanging on the back of the chair near his desk and wrapping it around his waist.
Thankfully, Rick is downstairs or out of the house when he exits his room, and he can easily make his way to the bathroom down the hall with no questions asked; locking the door behind him when he gets there.
Carl flicks on the light and the bright lighting is almost sterile, a blaring white that makes his eyes burn. Looking in the mirror, he can see all of his flaws, every single pore and freckle, due to the light.
And he can see the marks on his neck.
Scattered to his collarbones up to his jaw, there's patches of what looks like bruises. He runs his fingers over the areas and cringes a little bit. They don't hurt terribly, but it was surprising for him to see such a thing on himself. But at the same time, he kind of likes it, and if the thought of Ron cumming on his face didn't excite him again before, the thought of Ron marking him for everyone else to see makes him harder; gripping the edge of the towel on his waist with white knuckles.
With a frustrated sigh, he rips off the towel and places it on the toilet next the shower, starting up the shower and making sure the water is the right temperature before stepping inside. The warm water running over his skin calms him, and he closes his eyes for a moment to just relax. But even then, his erection won't go down.
He bites his lip in frustration and gives in, reaching down and wrapping a hand around himself. He braces the other hand on the shower wall to brace himself, making sure his feet are firmly on the floor so he doesn't slip and fall.
Even if it hasn't even been an hour since everything happened, Carl wants more. He wants to feel Ron's lips on his neck again, wants to feel Ron's hand on him, Ron's mouth. The thought of the sandy haired boy sucking him off while looking up at him with those honey brown eyes makes Carl bite his lip to keep back a moan. He wonders what fingering feels like, wants to try it to himself, but mainly wants Ron to do it to him. He obviously understands more, knows more, has experienced more. And Carl's willing and patient to learn and experience every single thing Ron has to offer.
He hasn't even fingered himself or has gotten fingered yet and he wants to get fucked by Ron. He wants Ron to hold him down and fuck him until he's a screaming, shaking mess. With the collar on. And maybe the ears. Ron, yanking the leash back while he fucks Carl on his hands and knees, back arched with the brunette gasping for air between desperate, shaky moans.
That's the thought that does it, and Carl struggles to stay standing, knees weak, as he cums; the spray of the shower washing everything away down the drain like nothing ever happened. This time, he can't hold back a moan; blunt nails digging into the shower tile.
His skin feels too hot as he comes back to reality, and with shaky hands, he runs his fingers through his hair to comb it back out of his face. Breathing still short, he quickly washes and conditions his hair, already feeling cleaner. Next, he scrubs his body, and after he's done he just stands under the cooling water, the water calming him down again.
He finally decides to step out of the shower, patting himself as dry as he can before wrapping the towel around his waist like he had it before.
He goes to reach for the doorknob to leave when he hears his father calling him and footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Carl? Carl, you upstairs?" There's a hint of panic in Rick's voice, but it's nothing that Carl isn't used to. In this world, anything can happen, and Rick doesn't like having Carl away from him for too long in fear of something terrible happening to his son.
"Yeah, in the bathroom!" Carl shouts back, but he can hear the footsteps come closer to the bathroom door and stop right in front.
"Are you okay?" Rick's voice is muffled by the door between them, so Carl opens it just enough to peek through the space, only half of his face showing, his neck and shoulders hidden.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just had to shower," Carl answers truthfully. He can see the worry in Rick's eyes melt away a little bit, but it never really does go away.
"Alright. Just...making sure you're doing okay." Rick sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He looks like he's in need of a shower himself. He looks absolutely exhausted, visible bags under his eyes. But no one really sleeps normally anymore, so everyone always looks exhausted, even if living in Alexandria gives them access to showers, washing machines, and an array of clothing rather than wearing the same filthy shirt and pants for God knows how long.
"I'm fine, Dad." Carl doesn't mean to sound annoyed, but there's an edge to his voice. I can handle myself, he thinks, but he doesn't dare say it aloud to start an argument.
"Okay, okay." Rick seems to catch the underlying tone to Carl's voice and backs off. He knows that Carl can handle himself for the most part. He's seen the kid take town walkers and even on rare occasions, if he really had to, other humans. He remembers the incident with Shane. That's the first time he knew Carl was learning to defend himself.
"Our group is all getting together for dinner downstairs soon. If you want to stay in your room, I'll call you down when everyone's here. Okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. I'm just going to… relax for a little while." Carl takes a deep breath. Instantly, he starts to think about how he's going to cover up his neck without being too suspicious. But he'll have to find a way, or else they'll think something terrible happened to him and everyone will get riled up. And he doesn't want that to happen. Too many times they've come across conflicts in their traveling aimlessly, and when someone else hurts anyone from the group, the rest are out for blood and revenge. And he doesn't want to send out the wrong message and get everyone bloodthirsty.
"Alright." Rick nods and flashes a quick smile, but Carl can still tell he's concerned. He's always concerned.
The Sheriff turns around and makes his way back downstairs, leaving Carl alone again.
When the footsteps fade out and become distant, Carl finally emerges from the bathroom only to go directly to his room and close the door behind him.
He locks the door just in case, wanting privacy, and goes over to sit on his bed. He pulls the towel off his waist, unafraid to be completely naked since he's behind a locked door and the curtains are drawn closed. The setting sun still casts dim light into the room, but he decides to flip on the lamp on his dresser anyway.
He brings the towel up to mess with his hair again, wanting to try and dry it even more. When he pulls it off his head, his hair is a mess and it's hanging a little bit in his eyes. Looking up, he sees himself in the mirror that's part of his dresser, swiping his bangs to the side so he can see normally. Maybe it's time for a trim, he thinks to himself. He would never get a short haircut, though. He feels better with shaggy hair for some reason, he doesn't know why, but he just feels more comfortable looking this way.
Again he finds himself looking at the bruises on his neck, and he feels his face get hot. He really has to find a way to cover these.
There has to a scarf or something in here, he thinks, draping the towel on the back of the chair near the desk in the corner of the room so it dries. He goes to the closet first, flipping through the clothing on hangers before searching on the top shelf, and then on the floor near the forgotten shoes. In the hanging clothes, he finds a few sweaters. Most of them are regular, with no high collar, but he does find one turtleneck. It's a baby blue color, made for a more feminine build, but he's skinny. It could fit him. So he puts it off to the side, and checks through the closet again. He finds a white scarf as well. It's an off-white, obviously having been worn many times throughout the years, but it'll work. He makes a mental note to check the closet near the front door downstairs later, because there might be some winter stuff tucked away in the back that he can use.
Finally, he decides to get dressed, skin dry. His hair is still damp, but that's fine. Since the sun is going down, he's sure that he'll be in the house for the rest of the night. Rick likes everyone in the group to stay inside past a certain time, even the adults. Even if they did finally split up into their own houses in pairs or threes, he likes for them to be inside and safe. The only exception is if someone has to go out on watch.
He pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt. Preferring not to be barefoot, he puts on a pair of socks.
Would it be weird to wear a scarf inside? Or the turtleneck? Maybe, he thinks, chewing on his bottom lip. He settles on picking a hoodie that's a little too big for him from the closet. It doesn't cover his neck completely, but with the hood up it kind of hides it. It'll have to do. Wearing the other things he found he feels would be out of place. The hoodie wouldn't be too out of the ordinary since it's starting to get chilly out.
He sits back on his bed and simply lays there, waiting for his father to call him down for dinner.
A knock on the door jerks Carl awake, and he runs over to the door with wobbly legs and unlocks it, opening it just enough to peek through.
"Dinner's ready. Everyone's downstairs," Rick explains.
"Okay, I'll be down in a minute." Carl nods, and Rick takes the hint to leave, going back downstairs to everyone else.
Carl takes a minute to prepare himself to be in front of everyone. Usually he doesn't care, he's fine with it, he feels safe with them. He still feels safe with them, but he really doesn't want anyone to see his neck. The people of his group aren't stupid, and they aren't oblivious either. They're good at sensing small details and observing a situation. But if he didn't go downstairs, it would even be more suspicious, so he really has no choice. He'd rather not be grilled with questions.
He leaves his room and slowly goes down the stairs, and he's not surprised to see everyone spread around the living room and kitchen. The house isn't huge, so it seems a little packed, but again, he feels safe around them and knows all of them, so he doesn't feel in danger.
"There he is." Michonne greets him with a warm smile. She's had her hardships, but whenever she's around Carl, she's a ray of sunshine. He feels comfortable around her, and even now that he sees her as a mother figure, he still thinks of her as a good friend.
"Hey," Carl smiles back, fidgeting with the cords on the hoodie, trying not to be obvious that he's tightening them little by little.
"Eat something." Michonne nods in the direction of the kitchen. "Don't want you to be starving." She pats him on the shoulder before going off to join everyone in the living room.
Dinner is simple; noodles and sauce. It's not anything special, but to people that have survived on scraps for the longest time, it's special. It's a real meal. And all of them are thankful for that.
He grabs a plate and takes a good amount of the noodles, pouring sauce over them and grabbing a fork before going off to the living room himself. He takes a spot in the corner between Daryl and Michonne on the floor, sitting with his legs crossed and the plate balanced in his lap.
"How you feeling today, honey?" Michonne asks, that sweet smile still on her face.
"I'm alright," Carl responds, swallowing a mouthful of spaghetti.
"Have you been hanging out with your friends?" She asks, idly twirling her food on her fork. "They seem nice. They've been treating you well?"
Carl is overwhelmed by suddenly being bombarded with questions, but he knows it's just because she cares about him and wants to make sure he's doing okay, just like Rick does. Now that Rick and her are together, he has two people constantly worrying about him. It's annoying, yet he understands why they have concerns.
"Yeah, they're nice." Carl smiles, looking down at the carpet. "They have a bunch of comic books they let me borrow. Gotta give them back, though, 'cause they're Enid's. But it's nice to talk about normal things. Weird, but nice."
Michonne makes a sound of agreement, pausing to take a bite of her food.
"Yeah, I'm not used to all this either, yet." She has a sad edge to her voice, but she tries not to let it show through too much. "But I'm glad you have friends. That girl is pretty."
Carl blushes, poking at his food. He does thinks she's pretty. Even if there's limited care for hair these days, her hair is still clean and shiny. Her eyes are a pleasing green that reminds him of the calm of the forest on a sunny day. She has kissable lips, too. He can't deny that he likes her a little bit as well, alongside the thing he has going on with Ron. But he's not sure if they'd be open to polyamory, it would get too complicated. So right now, he's happy with this thing he has going on with Ron.
"Yeah, she is," Carl agrees, sparing a quick glance up at Michonne.
"Are you interested in her? It's alright if you're not, just curious." She's pushing the topic, but at the same time, she's not forceful about it. Carl is a tad uncomfortable, anyway.
"A little bit," Carl admits, because he can't deny she's attractive as well. Rick sits not too far away from him, holding Judith and feeding her slowly, and even if it's not obvious, Carl can tell he's listening in on the conversation. But it doesn't really bother the boy all that much. He's used to his father watching over him. No one has noticed the hickies on his neck yet, or if they did, no one has said anything.
"That's cute," Michonne chuckles. It's mostly quiet, but there are a few other conversations going on between the others. They're all kind of a quiet group. But that doesn't mean they aren't friends, they still want to talk to each other. It does distract them from the world around them, if they try to focus on another subject other than the struggles around them.
Carl can feel eyes on him, but he can't pinpoint who it is. And he doesn't want to whip around and look at every single person to see who it is. But after a few moments, he can feel the presence beside him, and when he subtly turns his gaze towards Daryl, the man quickly looks in the other direction.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Carl curses to himself internally, heart beating faster. Out of all the people to notice, it was Daryl. But he'd rather it be Daryl than his father, which would bombard him with questions until he finally told the truth.
The rest of dinner goes by, but even then, everyone sticks around for a while. They all feel safe together. They even engage in a group discussion about how the community is running and what they think about everything, but Carl decided he'd rather be a spectator and listen in, having nothing to pitch in for himself.
But as always, things have to come to an end, and when people start filing out, the sun is gone and darkness has taken over the town. Michonne and Rick stay in the house since they live together now.
Carl catches Daryl's eyes when he leaves, but neither of them say anything. Even so, Carl can tell Daryl understands what happened, even if he doesn't really know exactly who it happened with yet.
Everyone is gone, leaving only the four of them. Michonne cradles Judith and rocks her to sleep. It's late, and it's past her bedtime.
"Should have put her to bed earlier," Michonne says, but mostly to herself. "I'll take care of her." With that, she disappears upstairs with Judith, leaving Carl and Rick alone.
"You alright?" Rick asks, and Carl is tired of hearing that question. But he doesn't lash out, trying not to be a brat today.
"I'm fine, Dad," Carl answers sternly, hands stuffed into the pocket of the hoodie. He slumps, hoping that the shadows from the hood and his hair hide his neck more. But Rick gives him a look that makes Carl uncomfortable, makes him curl into himself even more. The hoodie doesn't hide everything, obviously. But the lights in the house are dim, so that helps with casting more shadows.
Rick sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.
"I'm going to bed. Don't go out, stay in the house- you know." Rick repeats that almost every day like Carl doesn't understand. But he does, and it just makes him irritated and feel like a little kid again.
"Yeah, yeah." Carl shakes his head. He turns around and starts upstairs. "Night, Dad."
"Night," Rick responds, but Carl is already up the stairs.
He goes into his room, locking the door. He usually doesn't lock his door, but with the things he found, he doesn't want to risk Rick coming in and finding them. It's highly unlikely, but Carl is paranoid nonetheless.
The hoodie is too hot for sleeping under the covers, so he pulls it off and throws it to the side before crawling into bed, curling up under the covers and sighing.
He doesn't know what tomorrow will bring, but for once, he's actually excited to wake up. Just thinking about spending more time with Ron makes his heart race and blood run hot. But he tries to calm himself down.
It takes him an hour to fall asleep. He usually doesn't dream, but he does tonight.