Chapter Four

It's a week later and Daryl's never been touched so much in his life. Shane doesn't seem the least bit willing to downplay how they'd been spending their spare time. At meals, he leans heavily against Daryl, sometimes coming up behind him and grazing his palms down his shoulders and chest. When they pass one another during the day, Shane always stops him to steal a slow kiss. People stare- Daryl's more than a little aware of that- but Shane doesn't mind. And if he wants it, then Daryl will provide. He'd already decided he'd never deny Shane anything.

Still, some people stare more than others. The Woodbury women take an interest straight off the bat, watching them unashamed and murmuring amongst themselves in tones that range from jealous to aroused. Daryl catches Michonne watching them, every so often. But her expression is usually something more like content smugness, as if she'd been expecting this all along. Maggie's the same way. Carl, most of all.

It's not until Daryl spots Carol frowning in his and Shane's direction out of the corner of his eye that he realizes some people might not be as enthusiastic about their relationship as others. He suspects it's routed in possessiveness more than jealousy, if her intermittent comments of "I liked you first" are anything to go by. If anything, the way she looks at them is suspicious most of all. And Daryl likes to tell himself that she just doesn't trust Shane yet. That they'll get there, eventually.

Rick is the only one who never hides his glare. It's not a permanent fixture on his face, but when it's there, he revels in it, and stares glassy-eyed in their direction until Daryl pulls Shane away to someplace more private. Shane doesn't seem to notice, too caught up in dragging his fingers through Daryl's messy locks and fingering over his denim-clad thighs. But Daryl can sense the intensity of Rick's gaze even when his back is turned.

Daryl worries about Rick the most. He knows that his lingering distrust of Shane is part of it, but realizes just the same that trust isn't the only problem there. He could be jealous of Daryl, or Shane. He could feel betrayed by one or both of them. But for however much he used to depend on Daryl, look to him as his second command, lately Rick has been isolating himself more and more. Keeping to the garden, for long hours. Purposefully missing meals. And Daryl knows for a fact the man hasn't been sleeping. Knows because of the many nights he's been restless himself, listening to Rick pace the catwalk while he and Shane lie in bed together.

But that's a problem for tomorrow. It has to be, when Shane's giving him that look again, and leading him by the belt loops back towards their bunk.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Carl finally seeks Shane out on a Tuesday. Though it's only a Tuesday because Hershel had proclaimed it to be. He chuffs his feet against the concrete floor as he shuffles into the doorway of the cell, knowing that at this time of day, Daryl would be out hunting.

Shane startles at the sound of someone coming into his space, someone who isn't Daryl, but settles when he sees it's Carl.

"What's up, man?"

"Can we talk?"

Shane hesitates, Rick's words echoing in his mind, but can't deny the younger Grimes when he's looking so hesitantly hopeful.

"Sure. Why don'tcha step into my office?"

Carl smiles at him and plops himself down on the bed. He takes the Sheriff's hat off his head and places it in his lap, fiddling with the frayed edge as he works out just what he wants to say.

"Something on your mind?" Shane prompts him.

It takes a few more seconds after that for Carl to speak. "I know something bad happened to you, while you were gone." He plows forward without waiting for Shane to respond. "I know it was really bad, whatever it was. And you don't have to tell me what, 'cuz Dad told me I wasn't allowed to ask. But I just...I just really missed you, Shane."

Shane's expression softens from the tension that had sprung from Carl's words about bad things.

"I missed you too, man. More than you know."

"I don't get why Dad's so mad at you. And he won't tell me. And you won't tell me. I don't get it!"

Shane chooses his words carefully. "I made some mistakes, before we got...separated. Some mistakes your Dad wouldn't be able to forget so easily. We'll get there, me and him. Eventually. You don't have to worry."

"You mean how you and Mom were together?"

Shane's breath catches in his throat. "You knew about that?"

"I'm not stupid," Carl replies sullenly. "But you and Dad both caring about her, wouldn't that have been good? How can it be bad to have two people who want to protect you?"

"Your Dad didn't see it that way. Most people wouldn't. The same way it'd kill me to see someone else with…" He cuts himself off before he says Daryl's name.

"I know you and Daryl are dating," Carl says, with all the confidence and wisdom of a pre-teen. "But it's not your fault. You thought Dad was dead. You said so."

"I did. I really did. Never lied about that," Shane says. "But I don't think what happened while he was in a coma is what's got your Dad angry still."

Carl goes silent for a beat, nodding slowly. "You know, I still love Mom, even though she's gone. I bet it'd be even worse if you loved someone who was right near you, but you couldn't be with them. Loving someone when you're not allowed. It'd hurt, the way it still hurts when I think about Mom."

Christ, sometimes Shane forgets just how smart Carl is.

"It does hurt," Shane said. "It did. Less, now. But...I was a real prick about it. Your Dad has every right to be pissed about that."

"But...he left you behind."

Shane lets out a harsh breath through his teeth. "Carl…"

"I tried to make him go back. I tried to make him go back, Shane, I swear!"

"Hey, hey." Shane places his hand gently down on Carl's shoulder. It's the most he's touched the kid since he'd returned, constantly fighting every urge to sweep him into a hug like he used to. "Carl, I ain't mad at you. That wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault."

At that, Carl crumples. His body shakes, but no tears come out, and he curls into Shane's side.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Shane. I'm sorry…"

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Shane soothes. "I still love you, alright? Nothing's gonna change that. Nothing."

Carl sniffles and lets out a slow sigh. "I keep thinking, keep wishing you'd been here for...Mom. That maybe it would have been different, if you were. Don't tell Dad I said that."

"I won't," Shane promises, "And I don't know if it would have been different. But I wish I'd been here, too. For you, when you needed me."

Carl nods against his side. "You're here now, though."

"I am."

"And...you're not still thinking about leaving, right?"

"No, not anymore," Shane assures him.

Carl pulls back to look him in the eye. "You'd tell me before you left, right? Promise you won't leave without saying anything."

"Carl, I'm not gonna leave," Shane is quick to say, "I'm not leaving. I'm just not. I swear."

Carl stands up then, but he's smiling, and seems to believe Shane.

"Good," he says. "I really missed you, Shane."

"Missed you too, buddy," Shane says as he watches Carl slip back out into the cellblock, and the words are thick in his throat. He's still reeling a half-minute later when Rick wrenches back the privacy curtain of the cell and stomps his way inside.

"I told you," RIck growls, "I told you to stay away from him."

Shane flinches, can't fucking help it when Rick's tone is so nauseatingly familiar, and says, "I didn't seek him out. He just needed to talk, man."

"He can talk to me. I'm his father."

Shane chooses his words carefully. "He needed to clear the air. Fuck, Rick, he actually thought I was mad at him. That I'd blame him the way I blame-"

A long silence stretches between them. Rick stares blankly down at Shane, who curls further into himself on the edge of the bunk.

"So that's what this is," Rick says, "I hoped you'd be over it by now. But no, that's exactly what this is. You blame me."

"Shouldn't I?" Shane mutters under his breath. He steels himself and meets Rick's gaze. "What they did- that's not on you. That was just them. But the fact that they had the chance? It never woulda happened if you'd listened to me about Randall. And the really bad shit- they didn't start on that 'til days after they had me. If you'd come back for me, looked for me, it wouldn't have happened at all."

Rick paces in front of him, boots echoing against the concrete floors. "You didn't have to do a goddamn thing about Randall. I told you not to. I had it handled!"

"I was protecting you. I was protecting all of you!" Shane bites back, rising to his feet.

"No one asked you to!" Rick shouts in his face.

And well, Shane knows he should keep his mouth shut, but when has he ever managed to do that?

"Lori did."

Rick's eyes jerk to meet his, dark black pits that Shane doesn't recognize. A fucking dare.

"We were stuck in traffic, everyone trying to get out of the city. And they started dropping bombs, man...and she asked me to protect her and Carl. Shoulda known she didn't need to- I never would have let anything happen to them. But she begged me to promise. So I did. I promised her. And there wasn't no goddamn way I was letting your righteous bullshit get in the way of that."

Rick's hand darts out and fists into Shane's collar. "Fuck you. Don't you say a fuckin' word about her."

Shane jolts himself out of RIck's grasp, but in his panic, puts too much force behind it. He catches himself on the bed, shirt hanging open and collar ripped apart. He's panting when Rick takes another step towards him, staring at the place where his neck meets his sternum.

"Where is it?" Rick asks. Shane ignores him, still working on getting his breathing in check, but then Rick presses, "Where's your necklace?"

All the air leaves Shane's lungs at once. "Gone."

"What do you mean, gone? You never take it off. I haven't seen you without it since we were in high school."

Shane refuses to look at him. "It's just gone, Rick. Leave it."

Another step forward, and Shane's stomach is twisting into knots as he valiantly fights the urge to run.

"Why should I?" Rick asks. "Where's the necklace, Shane?"

The tension rods holding Shane together from the inside out all snap at once, and he turns on Rick, eyes fiery and piercing.

"That's all that matters, huh? The necklace? The fucking necklace? I'll tell you where it is. I shoved down the throat of the last one of them I killed. So there! You can track down his undead ass and fuckin' gut him if you want it that bad."

"Shane…" Rick's face has gone from a frustrated sort of angry to shocked, maybe even frightened. But Shane can't stop. His mouth won't stop going, and he's not entirely sure he wants it to.

"No. Don't you say my name. Don't you fuckin' say my name like that. You know why I choked him with it? Know why I had to? 'Cuz when he decided I'd be a nice thing to stick his dick into- and he was the first- he saw my necklace and decided 'Twenty-Two' would be a good nickname for me. Not like I needed a real name, of course, like a fucking human being. But no, he called me that, and then they all caught on to it, and it was just one more thing they took from me. So when I was finished shoving my knife up his ass, I stuffed that necklace down his throat and told him to swallow like a good little bitch."

"Jesus, Shane. Just-"

"And you know what I said to him, that first night? I said, 'Rick's gonna fuckin' kill you.' I believed it, too. Fucking stupid of me, huh? To think you'd come save me. To think you'd put whatever shit there was between us on the back burner 'cuz I was in trouble, and I needed you. I'd have to be a real dumbass to think that," Shane seethes, "But Christ, once they'd heard your name they couldn't let that go. It was all 'You think your friend Rick is gonna come save you?' and 'Where's Rick now, Twenty-Two?' and 'What would your buddy Rick say if he saw you crying like a bitch with a dick up your ass?' And you wanna know where my fucking necklace is."

"Shane, stop." Rick is desperate this time, Shane can hear it in his voice. But it doesn't matter.

"No!" Shane shouts, "You should have to hear it. You should have to hear every fuckin' thing they did to me. You know, I have to fight off a panic attack every time I hear your name, now? It's just a fucking name. A word. But I hear it and all of the sudden I can't breathe right 'cuz I'm waiting for the pain to start."

"I never wanted that!" Rick finally interjects, "I never wanted any of it. I'd take it back if I could, brother, I swear…"

"Don't call me brother."

Their eyes meet and they both stand there, chests heaving, for a few seconds.

"Shane," Rick tries again, "I'd take it back if I could. Fuck, I'd take your place. But I don't know how to make this right. Please, just tell me how to make this right. Or at least, how to make it better. Tell me what you need from me."

Shane's shoulders slump and his eyes hit the floor. "Need you to get out of my cell."

To his credit, Rick tries to catch Shane's gaze again. Stands there for several awkward seconds hoping Shane will offer him something else, anything else. But his former partner remains as silent as ever, so Rick turns on his heel and leaves. A half-second later, Shane does too.

He barrels out of the cell, down the mostly-empty corridor and out into the yard. He makes his way towards the gates, practically jogging, a little delirious, and smacks chest-first into Daryl.

And when Shane realizes who he's run into, he can't help it. He buries his face in Daryl's neck, clings to him like the fucking weakling he is. Shane hears Daryl drop the rabbits he's holding on the ground, feels the younger man's hands go to his sides, hesitant, soft.

"What happened?" Daryl asks him.

The answer's too complicated for Shane to delve into, so instead, he grabs Daryl's wrist and practically drags him back to their cell. Once they're safely inside, Shane pushes up against Daryl and slots their mouths together, too hard, too fast. Daryl pulls back. Holds Shane by his shoulders, manages to keep his face from betraying his worry.

"Not when you're like this," Daryl tells him after thinking on it a beat.

"Why not?" Shane asks. "I want to. This is me, now."

"It isn't," Daryl disagrees, "And I don't wanna be a distraction. Just...lay down with me a while. Please?"

"So fuckin' polite all the sudden," Shane grumbles, but he does as Daryl asks, taking his spot between the younger man and the wall and pressing his face into Daryl's chest.

"Good," Daryl murmurs, and Shane's already drifting off. "That's good."

TWDTWDTWDTWD

A few hours later, when Shane blinks awake in Daryl's arms, his head is clear again. A few seconds of burrowing into the warmth beside him and Shane realizes that Daryl never went to sleep at all, just lay there, comforting and protecting him.

"Feelin' better?" Daryl asks him. His voice rumbles against the back of Shane's neck.

"Yeah," Shane admits, "Needed that. Thanks." He turns slowly until they're nose-to-nose, lazes his eyes back and forth over Daryl's collar bone. "Sorry I, uh…"

"Don't gotta apologize," Daryl says before Shane can finish. "You were upset, I get it. Do...do you wanna tell me why?"

"Carl came by, to talk," Shane says slowly, "And after, Rick...me and him had it out. Said a whole lotta things he didn't wanna hear, 'bout what happened to me. Didn't leave things off too well."

"Were they things that you needed to say?" Daryl asks.

"Mm," Shane agrees, from low in his throat, "'But...maybe I shouldn't have said them all at once. Part of me wants to shove every last detail of it in his face, and the other feels like that's cheating, you know? Like if me and him work things out just 'cuz of what happened when I was gone, then it wouldn't be real."

Daryl nods in understanding and strokes his fingers down Shane's side. "You and Rick, you've been friends since you were kids, yeah? So if the two of you can make things alright again, I dunno if it matters why."

"I hear you. But Christ, I'm still so fucking angry at him. Not sure there will ever be a time when I'm not."

"So be angry," Daryl says, "Be angry, but forgive him too. You can do both. Forgiving him doesn't mean you forgot, don't even have to mean you trust him again. It just means, you're deciding to start gettin' back to who you wanna be."

Shane hooks his thumb into Daryl's waistband, and his lips curl into a soft smile. "I will...think about it, I mean. Later."

"Later, huh? And what's it you wanna do right now?" Daryl replies.

"I'm feelin' better," Shane whispers, chin tilting up to seek out Daryl's lips.

And with one last assessing look, where Daryl eyes Shane hard enough that the older man is sure he can see right down to his soul, their mouths press together gently. Daryl pulls Shane gingerly underneath him, and is licking at the length of his neck when he murmurs, "Wanna try somethin'."

"What kinda somethin'?" Shane gasps as Daryl bites down and sucks until he's satisfied.

"Wanna do somethin' for you," Daryl says, and then, after a moment of thought, "Somethin' for both of us."

Shane is already hard, pressing up against Daryl's abs. "Ain't likely to say no right about now."

Daryl stops what he's doing and looks up at Shane. "I… I wanna suck you. Can I?"

"Christ," Shane mutters, "'Course you can. How the hell could I turn that down?"

"Had to be sure," Daryl replies a little sheepishly. "Always wanted to. And with you...been wanting to since we started this. Been wantin' it bad."

"You can have it," Shane tells him, a little breathless, as he watches Daryl shift lower and lower down his body. He doesn't go for Shane's shirt, knowing, somehow, that it's still an impasse. But when he reaches the older man's belt, and looks up for confirmation, Shane runs a hand across Daryl's cheek and nods.

Daryl's first move is to wrap his fist tightly around Shane's length. He's on his belly between Shane's legs, propped up on one elbow and staring at the older man's length with the thirsty gaze of a dying man. He squeezes, and Shane sucks in a sharp breath before letting it out roughly when Daryl loosens his grip and trails his fingers down the thick vein leading towards his balls.

Shane shudders when Daryl takes both his nuts into his hand, rolls them in his palm and watches for the other man's reaction. It feels good, better than good mainly because of just who is touching him. He's barely breathing by the time Daryl finally stops exploring with his fingers, and instead opts to lean forward and drag his tongue over the tip, tasting him.

"Fuck," Shane grunts. His eyes are wide as saucers while he watches Daryl take in the taste of him, frowning slightly at first in something like concentration, then smirking like he fucking enjoyed it.

Shane fights back a loud moan when Daryl wraps his lips around his teeth, holds his gaze, and sucks the older man down as far as he can. It's not his first blow job, not by far. And the hot, slick heat is something he's certainly missed, but what Daryl's doing is so much more than that. He's enthusiastic, something Shane hasn't experienced before. Hesitant too, maybe afraid of making a mistake and being rejected.

But more than anything, Daryl is sucking him in a way that's warm, affectionate even. Daryl is lapping over the head and stroking his fingers after his lips. All of it an expression, not just an act. More than a race to the finish.

"That feels so good, Daryl," Shane makes sure to tell him, "You're so fucking good at that. Your mouth...fuck."

Daryl pulls off just long enough to smile at him, looking so goddamn pleased with himself that Shane can't help but smile back.

"How does it taste?" Shane asks, fingers going to Daryl's hair. "Do you like it?"

"S'even better than I thought," Daryl says, blushing lightly. "Want you to come for me. Want it right down my throat. You want that?"

Daryl's mouth is back on him a half-second later, and Shane's hips buck forwards into the welcoming heat. "Yes," he groans, "I want it. Fuck, I want all of you."

Somehow, Daryl's eyes on him are the most erotic thing about the moment. They've gone cerulean dark, bright in a way Shane's never seen them before. Every so often, they flutter closed in a pleasured sort of way, only for Daryl to wrench them open, as if missing the expression on Shane's face physically pains him.

Shane moans when he realizes that Daryl is grinding down against the sheets, hard enough that it can't just be to soothe some of the ache until later.

"Fuck, you're lovin' this, aren't you?" Shane murmurs, and Daryl can only moan, driving vibrations down the length of Shane's cock that make the prone man's hips jump. He bobs his head faster, taking Shane as deep as he can, until he's practically choking with it.

There's intention in the way Daryl's mouthing at him now, and Shane has to bite back a too-loud cry when he feels himself breach the back of Daryl's throat. The younger man seems to want it so badly, hardly gagging despite the fact that his nose is nestled in the dark curls of Shane's pubes. Shane's grip on Daryl's hair tightens. He rocks up into Daryl's mouth, his throat, and when the younger Dixon only moans in response, Shane does it again.

Daryl's fucking his cock into the sheets, Shane can see. And as soon as he puts together just how much the other man is getting off on this, he stops fighting back. Shane fucks Daryl's mouth hard.

"Gonna come," Shane pants, "Can't- can't hold back. Oh, fuck. Daryl."

Daryl swallows around Shane once. Just once, but that's all it takes for Shane to come flying apart. Every muscle in his body tenses, and then he's pouring himself down Daryl's throat with a sharp groan, waves of it pulsing through him until he's exhausted. And when Daryl sees Shane's expression fall open into clean, guiltless bliss, Daryl can't help but fall over the edge himself, bucking against the sheets with the eagerness of a teenager and moaning at the perfection of it all.

Shane lets out low, whimpery noises when Daryl continues to suckle at him afterwards, pumping him gently through the aftershocks. Shane's eyes are still on Daryl's face, and Daryl's have never left his.

"C'mere," Shane demands breathlessly, dragging Daryl up into a deep kiss as his free hand fumbles for the man's belt, "Lemme…"

But Daryl stops him, and Shane feels the blush on Daryl's face before he pulls back far enough to see it.

"No need," Daryl mutters, eyes dropping down to the space between him. "I uh...I already…"

"Seriously?" Shane asks. He kisses Daryl again, "Jesus, that's so fucking hot."

Daryl seems relieved, but only partially so. "It was alright, then?" Daryl presses, a little hesitant.

"It was fucking amazing," Shane says, "Jesus, I think it was the best head I've ever had."

Daryl scoffs and hides his face in Shane's shoulder. "Don't gotta say that."

"I'm not just saying it," Shane assures him. He reaches down and thumbs over the wet spot on Daryl's jeans, watches as the younger man shudders. "Thank you, for...I don't know. A lot, at this point. Don't know how I'd be able to deal with everything without you. Been keepin' me sane."

"Don't gotta thank me," Daryl replies, "I wanna be here. And it ain't like it's one-sided."

"Nah," Shane murmurs, smiling wide, "It ain't one-sided at all."