September 8, 2010

~*~ Merle ~*~

Making the decision to move out of the hotel was half calculated thought and half gut reaction to his family's objection to his relationship with Princess. Spreading the population out was something he'd been discussing with his two most capable security people even before things went sideways, but honestly? Merle hadn't actually banked on being the first one to take the step.

It seems like a lot of folks were just waiting on someone to give the okay, though. The hotel went from over seventy residents to around twenty within five days of Michonne making the announcement that certain areas were open for settlement. Walsh took a group to the northern part of the island in a cluster of condos, Ford took another down south near the old 4-H camp, and Merle's group chose the riverside nearest the old airstrip.

Part of him feels a little guilty that his little neighborhood holds all the actual soldiers except Ford and Espinoza, even Ford's own son. AJ's sharing one of the neighboring houses with two of the other baby soldiers. Then again, even the civilians on the island don't exactly pass for actual civilians anymore. His team has seen to that.

The place Princess picked out without him telling her why he asked is bright and cheerful, nothing like anything a Dixon's ever lived in. But it makes her smile, and honestly, he's absorbed enough of Denise's psychology babble by now to know it's an environment that supports his own road to recovery.

This is how he wakes in a dark bedroom, despite one entire wall being nothing but windows and a glass door to a patio outside. The soft yellow walls aren't visible right now, but he can hear the river in the predawn darkness through the screen added to the door so they can have air flow at night, even over the soft hum of the fan. It won't be long before they need to decide on how to heat these places, but that's a task for later.

Slipping off to the bathroom wakes Princess, so she's blinking sleepily at him when he comes back to bed. "Why're you up so early?" she mumbles, groping for him even as he slips back beneath the sheet.

"Not sure." Well, he is sure, but admitting he's old enough his bladder doesn't always make it to a normal waking hour isn't on his agenda this morning. "Go back to sleep, sunshine."

She nuzzles close, winding her limbs with his despite the heat. It should feel like he's being smothered. Instead, he knows what it is, and he feels guilt curl along with him. Even though he told Daryl he didn't intend on ending anything with Princess unless it was her own choice, he knows she's getting more emotionally attached than he is. He isn't even sure he's capable of more than this soft affection he has for her, one that surprised the hell out of him. The cynic in him says it's lust and ego, purely the dirty old man he told her he was. But he likes the girl, a lot more than he honestly expected. She's his, and there's a sense of possessiveness growing within him each day he spends with her.

But no matter how well she hides it, he heard her last night, when she thought he was asleep after they'd both gone boneless with pleasure. Soft lips against his throat and the whispered words… even an old redneck like himself knows what 'I love you' in Spanish sounds like. He really is the pervert his brother thinks he is, to keep things going like this.

He needs to stop ignoring Daryl's wistful looks and relent, but the distrust is still there on his brother's part. Merle doesn't need Daryl as an oversized Jiminy Cricket every time the younger man looks at Princess and back to Merle. But as he told Princess, he's not a good man, and probably not even capable of being the sort of good his brother is. It's selfish of him to know the woman in his arms loves him and not tell her just how incapable of returning it that he is. Will Dixon beat all that softness out of him decades ago, and whatever miracle made Daryl capable is one Merle is grateful for, but it passed him right by.

"You're thinking too hard," Princess mumbles. She raises her head to look at him, even though the room is still too dark for her to actually see anything.

That darkness provides him a little cover to reach up and cup her cheek, drawing her down for a kiss to distract her from inquiring further. He wonders if she remembers what she said last night, even as she eases him onto his back. "You aiming to distract me?" he asks, voice deeper than it should be. "Because that sounds real fucking nice this morning."

"Is it working?" she asks, clever hands stroking down his chest, petting his stomach, and teasing short of what is her ultimate goal.

"Always does." And it does, because somehow, he's managed to find the libido he lost in his twenties where she's concerned. Then again, he's in his longest stretch of sobriety that didn't involve a prison cell, so that could be contributing.

Locking away the thoughts of prison, drugs, and alcohol, Merle focuses on what it feels like to be beneath her, with the flex and slide of strong thighs gripping him and taking them both to a place where he can just forget what he overheard last night. Guilt isn't something he ever bothers with outside of a flicker here and there where Daryl's concerned, so starting now?

He's just too old for that shit.

~*~ Michonne ~*~

Michonne wakes, hand snaking across the bed to find the sheets next to her cool. Daryl's been up a while, then, even though the sky is just starting to turn gray-purple with the promise of sunrise. He's on the balcony, naked as the day he was born, leaning against the railing and fiddling with something in his hands.

She just watches for a few minutes, enjoying the play of muscles under his skin, before slipping from the bed. For a man who loathed showing her his scars when they first started sharing a bed, he's quickly adjusted to being naked around her. It's a bigger commitment to their relationship than a wedding ring would be, she thinks.

The fiddling habit is part of his effort to quit smoking. The two girls that adopted Daryl tag teamed the man about the habit, but once he quit, it was obvious it was less about the nicotine and more about something to do with his hands. Even lying in bed at night, he'll often run his fingers along her spine until he falls asleep.

"You know, it's a good thing there's no one else using balconies right here," she calls out softly as she reaches the sliding glass door.

He smiles back over his shoulder, that sheepish half smile, and his hands still on the handheld puzzle he's been trying to solve. "Thought that was part of why you liked this room anyway."

Despite being the de facto leader from the beginning, originally, Michonne took a regular room, just two queen beds for her, Andre, and the teen girls to share. Once she and Daryl decided to make something permanent of their relationship, they moved to one of the suite style rooms that had an adjoining room to connect for the girls. Andre's small bed is tucked in a corner of the living room area.

Wrapping her arms around him, she presses a kiss below his ear, which makes him hum happily. "Something on your mind this morning?"

It's a silly question, because she knows it's the same thing that's been plaguing him since his brother moved out of the hotel and into one of the places along the river. The general idea is to keep a closer eye on the bridge itself, but Michonne isn't naive enough not to know that Merle moved forward with the plans because of her and Daryl.

"So many years, anything wrong between us, me and Merle, it was almost always his fault," Daryl mumbles, staring out at the ocean. "This wasn't."

"We both spoke to her," Michonne says, smoothing a hand along his chest. Merle's been cool to her, but since she could never call their interactions warm in the first place, it's not a big deal. He's professional and so is she, which is all that really has to happen.

But Daryl's gone from regular interactions with Merle, which always seem of an asshole nature on the part of both men, to a cool politeness that seems to bother Daryl more than if Merle just punched him. It distresses him enough that Michonne even had a private chat with Denise, who politely suggested that she let the brothers work it out on their own as long as it's not endangering anyone. There may have also been a small lecture about her own discussion with Princess, indicating that old world psychology about addiction recovery could be completely irrelevant now.

"Yeah, but all you did was piss her off." Daryl sighs, rubbing at his face. "She still won't look straight at me, Chonne."

Daryl had apologized, just like his brother all but ordered, and Princess had thanked him and accepted the apology without any fuss. But the young woman is almost as feral as Daryl himself. Allowing him to apologize seems to be the extent of her comfort with Daryl, and she's proven skilled at avoiding him as much as possible.

"If it's any consolation, I think she's angry at you on Merle's behalf." Even without directly asking, the gossip makes it back to Michonne. Princess didn't attempt to socialize with Michonne before the incidents, but she does seem quite taken with the kids of the island, and by association, seems fairly happy to speak with Lori. Lori's advice was quite the same as Denise's - leave her be.

"Not really." The sun is starting to color the sky, so he turns, kissing her slowly before scooting them both back inside. No one's likely to see them on the balcony before daylight, but after? That's a different story.

"I could try to talk to her," Michonne offers. Denise said leave the brothers be, but she didn't tell Michonne she shouldn't reach out to Princess again. "Make amends."

Daryl shakes his head. "Gonna try one more time to talk to Princess today. Think you're right on her being offended on his behalf. Keep hearing her asking me what happens when you always look at someone with the lowest possible expectations."

Cupping his face between her hands, Michonne caresses his cheeks with her thumbs. It's a question that plagues all three of the players in this family drama, she thinks. "Guess we need to borrow her optimism. Wouldn't have expected him to stay this straight, back at that center in Atlanta, you know."

"Me neither." He sighs and leans in for a kiss. A glance at the clock tells her they've got plenty of time before Andre will wake, so she just guides him toward their bed for the best sort of distraction.

The surprise of the day is that when Princess sees her approach when she's returning the children at lunchtime, she exchanges a look with Lori and sighs deeply. When the pregnant brunette nudges Princess's elbow with a smile, the young Latina squares her shoulder and walks toward Michonne. The greeting she gives is much quieter than Princess's usual happy candor.

"Would you have lunch with me and Andre?" Michonne asks, hoping the offer of eating with the toddler can bridge the chasm she and Daryl created. The younger woman adores children, although she's never spent any time around the smallest ones that Michonne knows about.

"I'm sorry," Princess says, looking genuinely regretful. "Maybe supper at the house? I can cook." When Michonne hesitates, she continues. "Ask Daryl and the girls to come, too?"

It's an olive branch, and Michonne can't really turn it down. Besides, she is rather curious to see which of the houses caught the couple's attention. She knows the address, of course, just like all the others who moved out of the hotel, but she hasn't actually directly checked which house it is. "We'll be there. Same time as supper here?"

Princess nods, actually smiling at Michonne, before diverting off to snag two lunches to go from the serving line that is just opening up. Daryl's not due back for lunch, going hunting on one of the wilderness management islands with the girls and another hunter, so she gathers up Andre and settles in with Joanna's family for lunch. Their supper plans will just have to be a big surprise.

~*~ Princess ~*~

Merle sets the big dish on the table as Princess sets the rice side dish alongside it. She frets over the place settings, doing a mental count of everything to make sure she hasn't forgotten something important, like someone's spoon. His touch is gentle when he captures her hands, leading her away from the dining area.

"C'mon, sunshine. You need to zen out some."

She can't help looking back at the table, even as he leads her to the couch and settles her in his lap. It's a little baffling sometimes, because she honestly expected her emotional meltdown to be the point of no return for a man like Merle. Instead, the man had moved forward plans to slowly settle people on the island, instead of being crowded into the hotel.

Being led along the street that had houses that faced the river was a surprise, the day after her crying jag. She'd explored and catalogued them all, and although he seemed to understand her fascination with the river versus the sea, it surprised her when he waved an arm along the road and asked which was her favorite. It was an easy choice, pointing this one out, even if she hadn't known it was about to become hers.

The house is too big for the two of them, but they aren't the only couple solo in a house, so she doesn't feel guilty about that. The huge windows that offer a view of the East River fascinated her from the time she first saw the house. It was a rental in its old life, so the colors are bright pastels and cheery, and there weren't a lot of personal items to make it feel creepy. From their bed, if they're home before dark, she can watch the sun set.

It's so much more enticing to her than the hotel's sunrise views.

"Are you sure you're okay with me inviting them?" she asks, as soon as Merle eases off the kiss he'd drawn her into.

"I told you, it's your place as much as mine. If you're fine with my whole family in your space, I don't mind them either." His hand slides under the edge of the bright orange broomstick skirt she's wearing, easing up bare skin to grip her knee. It's a tease to keep her mind off her worry, but it also reminds her that any other time, she would have leggings under the skirt, even in the heat. He knows what her legs look like, and she likes him to touch bare skin.

Searching his expression, she sees nothing tense or upset at all, just the calm contentment he often seems to have around her. It's not that he never gets angry, but his temper always seems carefully directed towards a specific target. She's seen him shout down someone who did something dangerous or stupid with all the skill of military drill sergeant. He sees himself as an unredeemable bastard, calls himself that openly, but then he touches her like she's some valuable treasure. The funny part is, she doesn't think he knows he treats her so gently.

There's also no sign he heard or remembers what she said last night, quietly against his skin. When he woke up early this morning, she thought maybe he would, but he hadn't said anything. But that admission of love weighed on her, so that she just couldn't keep being the reason he and his brother aren't speaking.

"I panicked a little. Lori just told me Michonne was more afraid of me than the other way around right now, and then Michonne invited me for lunch. It just came out to invite them for supper instead."

"You think fast for being panicked," he tells her, grinning and sliding his hand just a little bit higher. "I like it when you think fast."

It makes her laugh, although she captures his wandering hand by dropping hers on top of it through the skirt. "I don't want to smell like we just had sex when they get here." Especially not when his brother and Michonne both seem to think sex is all there is to their time together.

Merle doesn't lose a bit of his cheer, kissing her even as he retreats the hand. "It'll be fine, sugar. And if it isn't? I'll toss them out on their asses, and we'll try again in a month or two. Then we can smell like sex all we want to."

Princess surely hopes it doesn't come to that, especially considering Andre, Enid, and Lydia are coming along. Before she can worry again, there's a knock on the door. "I'll get the door and let the hellions in. Let you do one last check over that table if you have to."

Taking a deep breath, she lets him up, going to do exactly that. The two calderos are cooking pots she liberated from a restaurant on the island, delighted to find something that was exactly the type of pot her father's mother had used to cook family meals. Abuelita is the reason that Princess has always had a love of fish and seafood, going back to the elderly woman's stories about life before she came to America after her son helped her immigrate.

Lifting the lids from each pot, she carries them to the kitchen even as she hears Merle greeting everyone. In order to take care not to overstrain the electrical system Eugene maintains for the island, all the new houses use limited electricity. Most houses only have the breakers on for the kitchen, hot water heater, and lighting in certain rooms.

The joy of that is that eating out here doesn't mean giving up luxuries like ice. Food isn't strictly rationed, although she suspects that if someone takes too much from the commissary, they'll find themselves referred to an uncomfortable meeting with Michonne. She and Merle generally eat breakfast and lunch at the community meal, but in the five days they've been moved into the house, she's cooked almost every night for the two of them.

"Something smells absolutely wonderful," Michonne says, just as she comes into the dining area, Andre seated on one hip. The teen girls nod in enthusiastic agreement.

Princess sets the pitcher of lemonade on the table and smiles broadly at the compliment. The dish isn't all that different from some of the fish stews that have been served as group meals, but the rice? That'll be different for everyone.

"I hope folks like coconut? I'm going to miss it when the supplies run out." Luckily, coconut milk is currently plentiful in their supplies, the stuff lasts forever, and it isn't used much.

Merle sets a toddler seat into the chair he brought from the breakfast nook, since the dining table is one short. He adjusts the straps, not seeming to care that Daryl's watching him a little disbelievingly. The older Dixon raises up, motioning to the seat edged in between two other chairs. "Figured the little man prefers his own chair, dontcha, Andre?"

When Merle offers a fist bump to the toddler, the boy grins and offers a high five instead. Michonne seems pleased at the interaction, settling Andre into the indicated chair and taking the seat beside him. The two girls take the seats with their backs to the windows, so Princess sits next to Michonne. That leaves the brothers facing each other from each end of the table.

"What are we having?" Enid asks, looking curious.

"My abuelita called it cazuela de mariscos," Princess explains. "It's a seafood stew. I had to adapt it a bit, since we don't have all the things I remember, but it's supposed to adapt to ingredients, anyway. The rice is arroz con coco, coconut rice."

As everyone takes turns serving themselves, some assistance is needed for the two men, since each is too far away from a different pot to reach the ladles. Princess taste tested both dishes, not willing to risk a bad meal, so she's confident they taste good. Whether or not the guests will enjoy it is a different story. Merle and Daryl will pretty much eat anything, she knows, so she keeps her attention on the girls and Michonne. Andre's enjoyment is happy and noisy, making her smile.

Inviting the girls proves a good decision, because Lydia grins widely. "This is why you like to go fishing and crabbing and all that, isn't it?"

"Sorta. It wasn't something I got to do a lot as a kid, living in Pittsburgh, but soon as I was old enough, I came down to Florida. My abuelita taught me to cook, but she was from Colombia."

"I like the rice. Reminds me of sugared rice, but better," Enid says, taking a healthy bite.

Princess had hesitated with the rice, unsure if plain rice would be better with the seafood stew if anyone hadn't had it before, but at least it seems to be a hit with the kids - and Merle. His rice is gone before he's even dipped a spoon in his soup.

"Normally, there would be fried plantains, too, but…" she shrugs, and the others nod. Cuisine will change as they lose more and more of the exotics. They're better off than some, here near the Florida border, but some foods simply don't grow in the United States, or they grow on the other side of the country.

"Tasty stew, sunshine," Merle comments, reaching out to run his left hand over her right where it's resting on the cool glass of the dining table. She turns her hand, relaxing even more as her fingers twine with Merle's. "As good as last night's fish. Never thought I'd like a fish fried up whole like that, skin and all."

She smiles happily at him for the repeat of the prior night's compliment. Eating away from the others means more of what she's caught for them and less venison or rabbit, but Merle hasn't seemed to mind. Maybe next time venison's on the menu, they'll eat with the others.

"It tastes enough like other fish I've cooked that way," she says, but something in Merle's expression makes her look down the table at Daryl. The younger Dixon is studying his brother as if he were a science experiment, gaze on their linked hands. It makes her feel a little angry, even though Merle's explained Daryl's reasons for being wary of him.

Neither says anything, and Daryl catches her watching him and blushes, ducking his head. It makes his voice less audible when he asks, "You catching all your suppers now?"

It's the first question that really crosses into personal territory, more significant than anything about the meal in front of them. She squares her shoulders and smiles brightly. "Yes, I am. River's almost as good as the supermarket, you know. Sink a line, and here comes supper. Same as I did for months."

When she emphasizes that last word, Daryl looks up and for the first time, she thinks he sees the survivor who lived completely on her own for months, and not a girl in need of protection from Merle. He blinks, and she holds his gaze despite the wish to look away. "Maybe you should come with me sometime," she adds.

He swallows, gaze shifting to Michonne for whatever reason he needs, but then he nods. "Alright. Might be good to learn about the water, too."

"Tomorrow, then." She's not letting him continue to think her a weakling, not now that she's got his attention.

"A'right."

The drawled acceptance finally tips something in the right direction, and the rest of the meal goes like she wished for. The kids are happy, the girls a little more intrigued by just what Princess does with her days than they've been before, and Michonne has this odd little smile that Princess probably should be suspicious of, but she'll let it slide for now.

Family dinners are supposed to be like this, and maybe it took the damned apocalypse for Princess to have them again, but she's going to hang on with both hands. Maybe she's falling in love with Merle in a way that she may regret later, but for now, neither of them are going anywhere. In her life? That's what counts the most.

A/N: This was supposed to have a Daryl POV, too, but it is going to be a lot longer than I can cram into this chapter. His and Princess's reckoning of each other will be a chapter unto itself.