Okay, so. I am so sorry it took so long for me to update, and such a short chapter as well, but real life has been ridiculous. I'lll be writing shorter chapters to update more frequently, and I hope to manage at least one chapter every couple weeks. Thank you so much, all of you, that have waited so patiently and left such wonderful comments, and all the kudos! 3 I hope you enjoy this update!
In all the years Daryl had worked for Joe, he hadn't called in sick a single time. No matter how bad the hangover was, how much his head pounded, or how much he felt like throwing up each time he coughed, no illness, self-inflicted or not, had kept him in the shack, were Merle would either be running his mouth for getting high. Even when the older Dixon wasn't around, sitting still for too long had always irritated the archer. He could take the physical discomfort from being sick. He couldn't handle feeling useless.
But this morning was different. Rick was still asleep in his bed, after a night of constant nightmares that had woken both the deputy and the archer each time. Daryl had been able to sooth the exhausted man back to sleep each time, whispered to him in a low voice, comforting him. And Rick's eyes had eventually fluttered shut, allowing for another hour or two of fitful sleep. It hadn't been restful in the least, for neither of them, and there was no way the archer was going to leave for work with Rick in such a vulnerable state. So, when six o'clock came around, he had eased himself out from beneath the covers, slipped into his pants and suck out the bedroom and down the stairs, pulling his phone from his pocket once he had reached the living room.
Now, he was on the phone with his boss, informing him that he wasn't showing up today.
"Got some kind'a stomach flu." He gruffed quietly, not wanting to risk waking Rick up. "Don' think I'll be much help, throwin' up over the place."
"I'll be dockin' yer pay fer however long yer out." Joe replied, pausing a moment before finally adding "But ya can make that up by workin' on yer days off, I reckon."
"Works fer me." Daryl grunted. "Pro'ly be back by tomorrow anyway."
Joe had already hung up.
He was about to return to the deputy's side when he heard the stairs creaking, soft steps echoing through the otherwise silent house.
"Mornin'." Rick greeted once he had joined the archer, keeping an unusual amount of distance between them, something that made Daryl want to scowl. There shouldn't be any space between them, wanted Rick pressed up against him , wrapped in his arms.
"Mornin'." He answered, ignoring the burning need he felt to embrace the tired looking man. "Feelin' better?"
"Yea'. Much."
They stood in awkward silence for a while, until finally, Rick moved toward the kitchen, leading Daryl to follow, trailing behind the blue eyed male almost like a puppy. He watched as Rick made coffee, poured it into two mugs, and placed it in front of the archer. Daryl gave a short nod, wrapping his hand around the mug, ignoring the handle, feeling the warmth seep into the ceramic. Something inside him told the hunter to wait for Rick to make the first move, to not pressure the man into talking, or physical contact, even if touching the other man was all Daryl wanted.
"Daryl." Rick started, voice low and unsure, almost as if he was struggling to find the words he needed to express himself. "Last night was.."
"Difficult?" Daryl offered quietly, flicking his gaze up to search the deputy's face.
"Yea'." Rick agreed, giving a short, almost awkward chuckle. "It was difficult. But I wanted to thank ya."
"Don' have nothin' ta thank me fer." The archer huffed, averting his gaze to the mug he was holding. "Would'a done the same fer me."
"True. But that doesn' mean I shouldn' thank ya fer it." The deputy reached out, and Daryl watched almost in slow motion as their skin met, fingertips brushing along his knuckles, then the back of his hand. "Thank ya. Fer everythin' ya did las' night."
"Whatever." The archer grunted, feeling almost embarrassed by this exchange. No one had ever been this open with him, had ever even shown emotions like gratitude, or appreciation, making it so much harder for him to accept.
"Guess I still owe ya the rest of that story." Rick continued, pulling back his hand, breaking the contact between them, making Daryl want to whimper with disappointment. But this wasn't about him, not right now. Rick had a story to finish, a story he wanted to finish. A story Daryl wanted to hear. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, lest something mortifying slip past his lips, words like "Please", and "Touch me".
"After Lori and Carl.. passed. I had no place ta go, so I stayed with Shane." Rick sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "He was pretty fucked up fer a while, we both were. The three of us had been close. And fer a while, bein' around him helped. Although when I think back now, I think it might have been just not bein' alone that helped. Durin' that time we.. I used sex as a distraction. Could close my eyes an' forget everythin' that happened."
Daryl gave another grunt at that, lowering his head immediately after. He really shouldn't interrupt Rick, much less to express his dislike for the deputy's choices, and he fully expected to be scolded for his rude behavior. Instead, he was rewarded with a sincere sounding huff of laughter.
"I know, not the best thang ta do. Even worse when ya consider how thang's ended."
"How'd they end?" Daryl asked, glancing at the deputy from below his lashes, basking in the small smile gracing Rick's lips.
"Shane.. He started talking about how this was our chance ta.. make thangs right. Said we should'a been tagether from the start, stuff like that." The smile faded slowly as Rick continued, brows furrowing, instantly making the male look five years older. "Problem was, I never.. I never thought of him like that, ya know? It wasn' love, or fate, or anythin' even remotely close ta that. It was just.. sex. And after a year, I realized that I couldn' keep goin' the way we were. Shane was controlling, and insanely jealous. He was gettin' more violent. Don' get me wrong, he never laid a hand on me, but. Every guy I talked ta was suddenly out ta steal me away from him. Didn' matter if it was a stranger, or someone we'd worked with fer years, Shane just. He lost it."
"So ya left him." Daryl huffed. He had no problem imagining Shane as the type of guy to throw punches the second he felt threatened.
"So I left him." Rick agreed quietly. "Left everythin', really. Moved here, got transferred ta another police department. Changed my number, my e-mail, anything he could use ta contact me. The night I packed up my thangs, we had a bad fight. He didn' wan' ta accept that I didn' love him, never had. Said it was 'cause I felt guilty, that I jus' needed time. An' last night, he decided I'd had enough time."
"Jerk." Daryl grunted, shaking his head, knuckles white as he gripped the mug tight.
"Yea." Rick shook his head, curled hair swaying with the movement. "But he's persistent. He ain't gonna quit, Daryl. An' I've been thinkin'.. He's a cop, too, chances are he'll find out who ya are an'.."
The deputy trailed off, words dying on his lips. Daryl didn't need him to finish his sentence. The implications were clear. If Shane found out who Daryl was, he'd know who the archer was affiliated with. And if the wrong person would somehow come to know of their relationship.. Daryl felt a lump forming in his throat, swallowing hard.
"Yer gonna have problems." He finally said, forcing his lips and tongue to cooperate and form the words.
"Not jus' me, Daryl. Yer gonna have 'em too. Told me yer brother could never find out."
And once more, Merle was fucking with Daryls life, this time without even actually being present. He'd make the archers life hell, would throw punches and yell, would have his friends gang up on Daryl, try and beat the "fairy" out of him, to beat the hatred for police officers he himself held into his younger brother.
"So, we're done." Daryl concluded dully, feeling bile rising in his throat as his chest constricted. His hands were shaking now, because just the thought of a life without Rick in it was enough to cause the room to spin.
"If that's what ya want, then yea. We're done." The room spun faster now, objects blurring into misshaped splots of color. Daryl was going to be sick, there was no way he could hold it in long enough to get outside- "But I was thinkin' we could jus' start meetin' somewhere else. Somewhere Shane won' see us tagether."
Relief washed over the archer like a tidal wave, but it was too late. Panicked, he grabbed for the trash can standing beside the kitchen island they were standing at, hunching over and emptying whatever was in his stomach into it. He couldn't hear anything over the sound of his blood rushing through him, over the thoughts of Not gonna lose him and Don' have ta let go.
He had no idea how long he spent bent over retching, but when the heaving of his stomach finally subsided, he realized that Rick was beside him, holding his hair out of his face with one hand, rubbing the other over his back in small circles.
"Yer okay, darlin'." Rick breathed, holding the archer steady, patiently waiting for Daryl to recover. "A'right now?"
Daryl nodded sharply, slowly straightening, avoiding Rick's gaze at all cost. From all the things he'd been embarrassed for by Rick seeing, this had to be the worst. Who the hell wanted a guy that bent over and puked all over the place at the mere mention of not continuing their relationship?
"Don' move." Rick ordered gently, moving away from Daryl only long enough to retrieve a glass of water, pressing the could rim of the glass against the hunters lower lip once he had returned. "Drink, darlin'. Slowly."
Daryl took miniscule sips, one after the other, until he had drained half the liquid it had held. Once Rick had placed the object onto the counter, he leaned in to press a kiss to the archers temple, making the younger male flinch away.
"Don'." He breathed out, shaking his head slightly. He needed to brush his teeth, needed a shower to wash away the cold sweat stuck to his skin, needed to not have Rick see him like this.
"A'right Daryl, 's okay. I understand." Rick backed off then, if not further than a single backwards step, hands raised for Daryl to see. "What do ya need, darlin'? Jus' tell me, an' I'll give it ta ya."
"Need a shower. Brush my teeth. Take out the trash." Daryl swallowed, brows furrowing at the rawness of his throat. He was feeling utterly conflicted, absolutely horrified with the situation, wanting to run and hide until he could gather himself, while at the same time shaking with the need to curl up against the deputy and hide from the world, hide from his life, from everything that made it so damn hard to be himself.
"A'right, that's fine Daryl. Why don'cha go upstairs, take a shower, an' brush yer teeth. Got an extra tooth brush, if ya don' wanna use mine. I can take out the trash-"
"No!" Daryl snapped, shaking his head. "I did this, I'ma clean it up. I jus' need ta.. Need ta fix this."
"Daryl, ya don' need ta fix anything." Rick soothed, brows furrowing ever so slightly. "But if ya wan' ta do it yerself, that's alright."
"Mm." Daryl offered no more words, simply pulling the trash bag from the can, moving so fast he was almost running. Humiliation still burned within him, and he chucked the garbage into the can so forcefully, it almost fell over. A neighbor gave Daryl a weird look that the archer pointedly ignored. Rick had enough on his plate as it was, he didn't need a worried neighbor coming over, asking questions about the strange man assaulting his garbage can.
Once back inside, he found Rick sitting at the table, reading the newspaper he must have retrieved from outside before Daryl had woken, sipping at his coffee. It gave the archer a way to slip upstairs wordlessly, brush his teeth and shower, to somehow regain his bearings without having to feel too much pressure. One of these days, he'd have to tell Rick just how much he appreciated him. How much it meant to him that he never pushed him into something he wasn't ready for, or something he flat out didn't want to do.
For now, all Daryl could manage was a side way glance at the cop, before hurrying up the stairs and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. The water felt good running over his skin, soothed his tense muscles, and quieted his mind. Rick would still be downstairs when he got out. Wouldn't be mad at him for losing his composure. Daryl repeated these thoughts to himself again and again, refusing to let fear rise in his chest at what was going to happen once he joined the other male again.
Rick had said it was okay. He wasn't going to yell at him, or hurt him. Rick wasn't like that. He wasn't like Merle, or his old man. Daryl was safe with him. Unlike Rick was with Shane.
Shane was a real problem. One that could destroy Daryls life, if he felt like blabbing to others who he had seen Rick with. It frightened the archer, but what caused him much more anxiety was the thought of what would happen if Rick kept rejecting the other cop. He'd grown up around men like Shane, and sooner or later, when the rage became so strong it overpowered everything else, they went after anything and anyone. Shane would go after Rick, would hurt him, would take him away-
"Stop it." Daryl ground out quietly, because simply thinking it wasn't enough to calm himself anymore. They were going to be fine. Rick would figure something out, and they'd be fine. Everything was going to be fine.