The Wolf You Feed
Chapter 26
They had been out of toothpaste for some time now, along with many other items that had been common place before the turn and were now quickly becoming luxury items. Rown remained unaffected by these shortages. She brushed her teeth with coconut oil, baking soda, or simply a damp toothbrush and water even before the end of the world. But Daryl found himself missing toothpaste. Not deodorant or shampoo or even disposable razors. Just toothpaste.
Having dirty or missing teeth was the mark of being the ultimate in white trash. At least it was where Daryl grew up. His parents never bothered taking him to see a dentist, but he had always been careful to keep his teeth clean so they didn't rot straight out of his mouth. It was one of the few things he remembered his brother doing for him when he was very very young. Merle would drag one of their only unbroken kitchen chairs into the bathroom and lift him up to stand on the seat. Then he would make Daryl brush his teeth, sometimes stepping in to cram the toothbrush what felt like all the way down Daryl's throat to make sure even the very back teeth got cleaned.
Daryl poked through the messy bathroom cabinet, hoping to find a discarded tube of toothpaste inside somewhere and coming up empty. He finally dipped his brush into Rowan's little jar of baking soda mixed with sea salt and made quick work of cleaning his teeth, cringing at the bitter salty taste of the stuff. As he headed down the stairs he breathed into his cupped palm to check how badly his breath stunk. Continuing on despite his questionable breath, Daryl hit the squeaky stair that marked the halfway point between being upstairs and downstairs. He froze, suddenly aware that he was most of the way undressed and clothed only in the rainbow colored boxer shorts he had slept in.
He could hear the high pitched giggles of several children playing in the living room, but that wasn't what bothered him. From his place on the stairs, he could see into the living room. Carol was sitting on the couch next to Rowan's father, and for some reason the thought of her seeing him undressed made Daryl uncomfortable. It brought back his old insecurities about people seeing his scars.
Rowan had a casual attitude when it came to nudity. Her father and his wife were the same way. Not that they walked around butt naked all the time or anything, but none of them found it necessary to be fully dressed before they left their rooms in the morning. When he and Rowan first moved in here, Daryl thought it would bother him. But the truth was he quickly got used to coming down for breakfast before bothering to get dressed for the day, especially now that it was getting warmer and running the air conditioners used up too much power.
When he stepped on the squeaky stair, everyone in the living room heard him. Daryl knew he would make himself look ridiculous if he tried running back up the steps to get dressed. He squared up his shoulders. This was his damn house and he could walk around in his stupid looking shorts if he wanted to. If Carol didn't like it, she could hit the road.
There was a blanket spread out on the living room floor. Michonne's son was lying in the middle of the blanket. Judith was sitting next to him, dangling a brightly colored toy over him. The little boy was grabbing for the toy. Rowan's little brother Falcon was sitting close by, watching them with his big brown eyes. Every time the baby missed the toy he was grabbing for, he let out a big happy baby laugh, which made the other two children laugh.
Lily was resting on the floor a few feet away, keeping her eyes on the children. Daryl heard a low whine coming from the front porch, which he guessed meant Morgan had been locked out of the house, probably by Rowan's father.
"She's in the kitchen," Rowan's father informed Daryl once he finally made his way down the steps and appeared in the doorway of the living room. Whenever he saw Daryl alone, the man was always doing one of two things. Avoiding Rowan or looking for her. Since Daryl wasn't in the garage tinkering with his bike and drinking whiskey, the latter was most likely the current state of affairs. Daryl nodded. He was used to having his questions answered before he asked them. Like the partial nudity, it was another common occurance in this house.
Judith spotted him and jumped up from her play to rush over and wrap her little arms around Daryl's legs. He reached down and lifted the little girl up into his arms for a hug. She made him smile and as he hugged her a joyful thought entered his mind. Soon there would be another happy baby playing on the floor with the rest. His baby. Since Rowan was convinced she was having a girl, Daryl had started picturing his daughter in his mind. A pretty baby with Rowan's dark hair and his brother's blue eyes playing on the floor with Rick's son. At one time he had thought the outbreak was the end of the world, but now it felt more like it had been the beginning of a new one.
As quickly as she had rushed over to him, Judith wiggled down and hurried back over to the blanket.
"See my brudder?," she asked, stroking the boy's curly hair like he was puppy. Depending on who had actually fathered Judith, Daryl knew there was a chance that the two children were actually not blood related at all. They certainly didn't look like siblings. But these details didn't seem to matter to the children in question, they were busy laughing at each other again.
"I see him," Daryl told the girl, "he's gettin' big." Judith smiled at what she considered to be a compliment to her baby brother and then yanked the boy half up off the floor to try and hug him.
"Gentle touches," Carol reminded the girl. Daryl gave her a nod, forgetting his earlier embarrassment. Rowan's father was sitting on the couch right next to her, and he was also shirtless, clothed only in a pair of old worn blue jeans. "There's a breakfast casserole in the oven," Carol told him.
"Thought you were done making casseroles?," Daryl teased. That made Rowan's father laugh. Carol rolled her eyes, un unusual expression from the woman. Now that Daryl was looking at her, he noticed Carol's cheeks were flushed and he didn't think it had anything to do with his presence either.
"Well, we've got to eat," she admitted. Daryl had always been observant, and the way he was looking her over was making her feel even more self concious than she already felt. Her face was hot and she was sure her cheeks were pink. "There's ham," she added. He words had the intended affect. Daryl turned and hurried off into the kitchen.
Carol crossed her legs and then uncrossed them, still trying her best to ignore Rowan's father. This was easier said than done, since he was half dressed and sitting rather close to her on the couch. He had been staring at her since she showed up, smirking every time he caught her looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Carol found her eyes were drawn to his scars. Not just the old faded W on his forehead, but the ones on his chest. They were mostly little cuts, but there were two larger ones that looked like knife wounds. Healed slash marks that stood out white against the tanned skin of his chest. But the worst scar was on his upper arm, just below the shoulder where he had been bit by a walker. A chunk of flesh was missing, and whoever had tended the wound, probably Rowan, had clearly been more concerned with saving his life than they had been in how his arm would look once it finally healed up. The twisted flesh around the old wound made Carol feel a strange sort of grudging respect for the man. If nothing else, he was a survivor.
Unlike Daryl, who was always careful to keep his scars covered to avoid the stares and questions that came with showing them to people, Rowan's father wore his scars more like a soldier would wear a medal of honor. He was confident in his own skin. When he noticed Carol's eyes had shifted towards the scar on his arm he turned his shoulders slightly to give her a better look at the worst part of the mark. When Carol realized he had caught her looking, she had quickly shifted her eyes back to the children she was tending. She ignored the soft chuckle that came from the man. Thankfully Daryl had chosen that moment to come squeaking down the steps wearing what had to be about the most ridiculous getup she had ever seen.
Carol ignored the man beside her, feeling her face getting even warmer. She fought the urge to bring her cool hands up and press her palms against her cheeks. It felt like the more she tried not to think about how attractive the man next to her was the more she thought about it. He was muscular, but not in the pumped way Daryl was. Like his daughter, Rowan's father had a slimmer build. Slim but still broad through the shoulders. His body was wiry and hard looking from constant use and all the time he still spent out on the road. Normally his hair was tied back in a long braid but at the moment it was hanging down loose around his face, still slightly rumpled from sleep. His body was hairless except for a sparse trail of dark hair that started just below his belly button and led down into the waistband of the old worn pair of jeans he had on.
Rowan's father was well aware of the effect he was having on the woman sitting next to him. This was not the first time he had noticed Carol. Mature women had always held a certain appeal for him. Regardless of age Carol was an atttractive woman, but more than that he found her interesting and even a little mysterious. He had not been intrigued by a woman since he met Rowan's mother. His wife Nokake was a good woman and he cared for her. She had given him a strong healthy son and that was not a gift to be taken lightly. But being married to her wasn't exactly mentally stimulating. Their union had been born out of convenience and physical need, not out of love.
Stretching his shoulders out, Gray Wolf put his arm across the back of the couch, letting it rest against Carol's shoulders. She reacted to his touch immediately. Like the heat of his touch had burned her, she quickly jerked forward away from his arm. She finally turned and met his gaze head on, opening her mouth to speak.
The woman stuttered and stammered out a few half form before she finally spit out, "Aren't you married?" Instead of making the man feel ashamed of himself, her words made him smile.
"Aren't you living down the street with that wasichu Tobin?," he asked, answering her question with a question of his own. Carol was more than well aware that the foriegn word Rowan's father had spoken was a derogartory term for a white man. But the way he said it, with a teasing tone and a slight raise of the eyebrow made her realize what he was doing. This man was baiting her. And she refused to be baited. She was not going to be made to sit here and defend her feelings for Tobin. Instead she ignored the man's remark and gathered the children up, telling Judith it was time for them to take Andy home so his momma could feed him.
TWD
With thoughts of eggs and ham on his mind, Daryl headed for the kitchen. Their house had a large kitchen, with a big butcher block island in the middle. Because of this it had become a popular place for people to come and work on whatever various cooking projects Rowan was involved in. While she loved music and dancing, Rowan wasn't particular about what she listened to, always opting to let whoever was helping her choose the music. Because of this, Daryl could tell who visiting by the sort of music that was playing. Rock meant Spencer was over. Country usually meant Jessie or Deanna. And if he heard dance music or showtunes, Daryl knew Olivia and Eric were probably in his kitchen. Normally that type of music would annoy him, but he had quickly come to associate it with fresh cheese. Today there was only the sound of the blender being pulsed, so Daryl knew Rowan was alone in the kitchen.
As he had expected, Rowan was in the kitchen by herself. Tank was her only company, lying under the table with his head resting on his paws. Rowan pulsed the blender a few more times, wrinkling up her nose while she tried to decide if she was happy with the consistency of whatever she was blending up. Her hair was still wrapped up in a large sloppy bun on top of her head, a few turkey feathers dangling from the lengths of it. She was still wearing the oversized t-shirt she had pulled on the night before to sleep in, leaving her legs bare from her thighs down to her feet. Several bracelets were wrapped around each of her ankles, including the ones that she had gotten from home. Those were the intricate ones that wrapped around the ankle but also came down and circled around her middle toe, making it look like she had sandals on even though the bottom of her feet were bare. There were several silver toe rings winking against the pattern of her tattoos on her right foot.
The sight of his wife's very well dressed feet made Daryl smile. He slid in behind her, reaching his hands up under her shirt. Only Rowan would take the time to put several pieces of jewelery on each foot and then not bother to pull on a pair of underpants. He followed the curve of her waist up with one hand, cupping her breast. With the other he ghosted over her hip and let his hand rest on the small outward curve of her stomach, his pinky finger extending down into the soft patch of hair between her legs. She hummed her pleasure at his touch, arching her back so that his pinky finger slid a little closer to the spot where it would feel the best.
Daryl leaned down and forward to kiss the exposed flesh of her neck and immediately regretted it. Rowan chose that moment to open the blender and the stink that came out of it sent Daryl reeling back, the hand he had been using to caress her now clamped down over his nose and mouth.
"What in the fuck is that?," he cursed.
"Spring tonic," she happily annouced, somehow unaffected by the stink of the nasty green muck, "I made enough for both of us.". She was still talking much louder than normal, unable to fully hear herself with one busted eardrum. Rowan poured the sloppy mixture evenly into two glasses, then held one out for Daryl. "It's good for you," she encouraged. Since Daryl was acting like the stuff she made might kill them both, Rowan picked up her glass and took a big swig to show him how it was done.
"Nothing that smells that bad can be good for you," Daryl insisted, stepping back a few more steps before he took his hand away from his mouth. There was no way he was taking even one sip out of that glass and honestly he really wasn't sure Rowan ought to be drinking that slop either. It was green and thick and smelled like a head of raw garlic had sex with a dirty sock.
"Fine," Rowan announced, "If you don't want yours, I'll just give it to Tank." Daryl shrugged and wiped his hair out of his eyes. He tried not to smile as he watched Rowan set her glass down on the counter. She crouched down and held the other glass out towards her dog. Always eager to nibble and anything Rowan had to offer him, the big dog moved to sniff at the contents of the glass. Once he got a good snort, Tank's sleepy eyes opened wide. He jerked his head back and scrambled to his feet, almost knocking the table over in his attempt to get as far away from the horrible stink as fast as possible. One of the chairs clattered to the floor and then Tank was gone. He didn't just run into the next room, Daryl heard the dog's heavy tread on the stairs and then all the way down the upstairs hall to their bedroom to hide behind the bed. Daryl couldn't hold it in any longer, he exploded with laughter.
"It's not that bad," Rowan insisted, sniffing at the mixture herself. That only made Daryl laugh harder. She shook her head at the silly man and went back to slurping at the drink she had made for herself. Smelly or not, the tonic had loads of iron and other vitamins in it that she knew were good for her and the baby growing inside her belly.
The timer on the stove started buzzing, bringing Rowan's father in from the next room. He had Falcon in his arms. Handing the boy off to Rowan first, he swung the oven door open and used a towel to pull out a large foil covered glass baking dish. Setting the dish on top of the oven, he pulled the foil off so the food inside could have a chance to cool down enough to be eaten. Unlike the stink of the tonic, the good smells of meat and melted cheese made Daryl's stomach start to grumble. Carol seemed happier now that she was watching the wall and contributing to the safety and security of Alexandria, but on a more selfish note he missed her cooking. Not that Rowan couldn't cook, but down home southern style baking wasn't really her thing.
Daryl watched Rowan with her brother. She cuddled the boy close, kissing him on the soft round curves of both his cheeks. From the smile on the boy's face, it was easy to see how much he adored the woman that was holding him. She was going to be be a good mother, caring for others just came natural to her. It filled Daryl with a mixture of joy and relief to know that his child was going to grow up in a loving home, and not in the abusive environment he had been forced to endure.
Rowan's father came towards her, offering to take the baby back. She shook her head, wanting to hold her brother a bit longer. Rowan smiled at her father, which made Daryl smile since he knew that meant the two of them had made up after their fight in the RV. The man put a gentle hand on the side of her face, pulling Rowan close so he could plant a kiss on the side of her forehead. Then he did something Daryl was not expecting. He willingly picked up one of the glasses of sloppy green muck that were sitting near Rowan on the counter. Rowan nodded, indicating that her father could have what was inside the glass.
Without hesitation, Rowan's father tilted the glass back and chugged the entire contents of the glass down in a few slurpy gulps. He set the glass in the sink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he smiled at Rowan.
"Mmmm, Spring tonic," he said, sounding to Daryl like there was some small chance the man had actually enjoyed the smelly disgusting mixture. Rowan had her glass in her hand again, drinking down the rest. When she got done chugging the slop down she hiccuped and let out a burp that Daryl was very glad he wasn't close enough to her to be able to smell. Even her baby brother was cringing away from her, tilting his body to indicate he wanted to be let down onto the floor. She let him down and stood up with a look of excitement on her face. Her hands flew to her stomach, pressing her baggy shirt against her body.
"I told you that was good stuff," Rowan teased, smiling at Daryl, "Now I can feel the baby kicking." Since the day they listened to the heartbeat, Daryl had not been able to feel the baby. And it wasn't due to lack of trying. Anytime they were alone, he had his hands all over her. The last few nights he had fallen asleep with his hand over the small hard swell of Rowan's stomach. Daryl rushed over, letting her guide his hand to the spot where she had felt movement only a few seconds before. She held his hand tight against her, pressing his larger fingers in with her smaller ones. They both held their breath and waited in anticipation, not noticing that Rowan's father had quickly gathered up his son and cleared out of the kitchen in a discreet attempt to give them some privacy.
Rowan's father hadn't seen two people that excited about having a baby in a long time. The joy was catching, and anything that gave his daughter that much joy made him happy for her. He entered back into the living room with a smile on his face to find Carol standing in the open doorway. This time she was without the two children she had shown up with earlier.
"Missed me already?," Rowan's father asked her. His smile was genuine this time, not the teasing smirk he had been giving her earlier. There was no denying he was an attractive man, but when he smiled he was really handsome. There was a tooth missing on one side of his mouth, the one right behind the eye tooth. It gave him a roguish air and Carol found herself smiling back at him before she could stop herself.
"I forgot I was cooking breakfast for everyone over here," she admitted.
