Hey guys! I'm starting to update all my stories, and of course I had to make sure I got to this one! I'm sorry it took a little longer than originally anticipated, but I am adoring this fic so far, and I hope you are as well. Hopefully updates will be coming more regularly now. I am really happy with how this chapter turned out and a lot of it is thanks to my lovely friend Jay! You can find her on tumblr at ofcoltsandcrossbows or AO3 under the author name Jayswing I hope you enjoy! And I promise quicker updates in the future, hopefully once a week at the vary least! I am so thankful to all of you who have left reviews, favorited, or followed this story. I appreciate all of you, it's for y'all this story is going to go as far as it is. I love it so far and I hope you do too. So don't fear! Thank you again for all the support.

Lock Me Up

Chapter Two

"So, how is week two with the Beast?" Michonne asked casually as she slid in line next to Rick.

"I've told everyone to stop calling him that. He's really not that bad. If he wants to keep to himself, I'm not going to say anything." Rick shrugged as he picked up an apple from the display at the end of the food procession. Michonne reached across him and grabbed the apple from his hand, placing it on her own tray. He narrowed his eyes at her but grabbed another of the fruits and followed the confident woman over to a table in a corner where Glenn was already sitting, bent over a textbook and shoveling mac-n-cheese into his mouth as if he weren't even registering it.

Rick sat across the table from Glenn.

"It's only two weeks into school and you've already got your nose in a book." Michonne scoffed lightly as she took a seat next to Glenn.

"I was just passing the time till you guys got here." Glenn straightened up, closing the heavy book and putting it in his orange bag which he pushed under the table with his foot.

"How many times have I told you, sweetie, it's y'all—not you guys." Maggie appeared, taking her seat next to Glenn. The two shared a kiss as Michonne and Rick exchanged an eye rolling glance.

"How's everyone's day going?" Maggie asked as she dug into the mashed potatoes on her plate.

Michonne shrugged and Rick answered with a vague "all right."

"Where's the rest of the gang?" Maggie questioned to the small group in general.

"Lori's class gets out—" Rick checked his silver watch, "—right about now. She should be here soon, I think Shane said something about them having class in the same building so I'm figurin' he's just waiting on her."

Maggie nodded as she continued to eat, working her way through meatloaf that looked like it might come back alive at any moment. Glenn was eyeing it warily as he munched on his mac-n-cheese. The group ate quietly for a few moments, exchanging idle chit chat as they passed the time; no one had class for the rest of the day, so they were taking their time to enjoy the meal. The first two weeks of school had been hectic as everyone got settled in to a groove that worked with their various schedules, but they all knew how important it was to find a time where they were all free in order to hang out. They had learned the hard way sophomore year when everyone's schedules had conflicted so much that Rick only saw Glenn because he was his roommate and Michonne had flitted in and out of their lives like some sort of erratic moth attracted to light.

"Well, look who we found," came Shane's drawl as he dropped harshly into the seat on Rick's right, shaking the bench and, subsequently, the attached table they were sitting at.

"You knew we were going to be here," Maggie pointed out, gesturing her fork at him, green eyes narrowing slightly.

"Hey, baby," Lori appeared, sliding in next to Rick on his other side, pecking him on the cheek before taking a bite of her salad.

"How was class?" Rick asked her, to which she shrugged her skinny shoulders, flipping her hair behind her.

"You'll never guess who I ran the fuck into outside Lori's class, Rick, man." Shane spoke around a huge mouthful of sandwich.

"Who?" Rick inquired, his interest piqued by the tone of Shane's voice.

"Dixon. I think he was trying to hang around Lori, man. I'm tellin' you it was a good thing I was there."

"I'm sure," Michonne said, slightly under her breath, her dark brown eyes watching Shane with open dislike.

"I don't think he was hanging around Lori, Shane," Glenn spoke up before swallowing his food and looking down guiltily, his expression one of internal struggle.

Shane raised an eyebrow.

"Spit it out then, you gossip." Lori chuckled, her bright hazel eyes glimmering with intrigue.

"It's not my place to say anything, it's just something I heard."

Everyone at the table was watching Glenn now and he shifted uncomfortably on the bench, tugging his baseball cap lower over his brow.

"You can't just say somethin' like that and not tell us what's going on, if you've got any dirt on Dixon ya' gotta tell us," Shane interrogated. "It might be important for Rick to know, god forbid the Beast opens his ugly mug to tell Rick anything himself."

"It's really none of our business. If you don't want to tell us, you don't have to," Rick asserted, causing Shane to scoff and rip off another bite of his sandwich in annoyance.

"But, I would like to know something about him." Maggie mumbled. "I mean, he's got that whole dark and mysterious thing going on. I saw him sitting under a tree yesterday smoking a cigarette with something that looked a lot like blood on his shirt."

"It was clay," Rick amended, though there was a certain restrained amusement in his voice. "C'mon, Maggie, you've lived in Georgia you're whole life and you're gonna tell me ya' don't know the difference between mud and blood?"

Maggie shrugged.

"I heard he's been selling drugs in order to pay for school." Lori leaned forwards to whisper conspiratorially.

Michonne rolled her eyes at the admission.

"What? How else would someone like him afford UGA?" Lori leaned back with a haughty toss of her head.

"Oh, I don't know…scholarships, working through school? I know he works down at that mechanical shop down on Seventh Street, I see his truck out there most days on my way home from campus," Michonne admitted.

"So that's why he always smells like motor oil. I swear I've started to reek of it myself," Rick chuckled.

"Gross." Lori wrinkled her nose and leaned in to sniff Rick's curly hair above his ear. "You smell amazing, babe," she whispered in his ear, her breath caressing the sensitive curve of his ear. He could feel her sharp nails as they ran lovingly through his locks. He had the strange urge to pull away from her. He covered by leaning forward to snag a fry off of Maggie's plate.

"Well, I heard he likes to fuck freshman," Shane growled. "I don't know if I could stand to be around someone who takes advantage of younger women like that." He shook his head as if he was mourning the loss of these imaginary women's virtues.

"Unless he's doing it in broad daylight, that one's a lie too, he's home every night." Rick confirmed, beginning to feel like there was sand in every crease of his clothes, an itching, uncomfortable feeling crawling around his skin.

"Cool your jets, man. He's not one of us, why are you defending him?" Shane snorted.

"I live with the guy. I'd rather not get on his bad side."

"Good call, I bet he's got a nasty mean streak." Maggie shuddered a bit at the thought of Daryl's cruel eyes and large arms.

"I heard he was gay." Glenn blurted, though it was mumbled so quietly that everyone at the table stopped their bantering to stare, slack jawed at the top of Glenn's shiny black head of hair since he was bent over his food.

"'Cuse me?" Shane slurred in shock.

"I—I mean that's just what I've heard. Philip told Martinez who told Alex who told Sasha who I heard telling that mousey redheaded girl from down the hall." The tale fell from Glenn's mouth like a waterfall. He slammed his mouth closed over the words as soon as they had escaped, looking up and locking gazes with Rick, who was watching him steadily with an inscrutable expression.

Daryl? Gay? The two ideas didn't really fit, in fact they repelled as much as same sides of magnets. The rough redneck that Rick had been moving around like an opposite current the past two weeks did not ring to him as anything more than aggressively straight. Those rippling arm muscles and piercing, deep crystal eyes sang lady killer to Rick. Not that Rick had noticed those features in more than passing glance. Still, men picked up on the attractiveness of another male for territorial purposes, the more attractive, the more on guard around your girlfriend you had to be. It was normal, healthy even. Right?

"Fuck, if that guy's a fag, I'm a fuckin' princess." Shane laughed, shaking his head and slapping Rick on the shoulder. "Am I right?"

"Don't be an asshole, Shane. Like I said, it's none of our business." Rick's voice was deep and firm and Shane's smile slipped from his lips, replaced by a scowl that clouded his features, his brown eyes darkening.

"Ya' might wanna think about holdin' onto your man a little tighter there, Lor, before he starts doing the do with his new butt buddy," Shane growled with more acid than Rick figured was strictly necessary.

"Maybe he likes beefy meatheads," Michonne said casually taking a bit of her apple and giving Rick a small smile which he gratefully returned.

Lori watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, like a cat. "Shane isn't a queer," she sneered. "And neither is Rick. Right, babe?" Lori slipped her arm around his waist pulling herself closer to his side.

"For all we know," Glenn mumbled contritely, swallowing, "Daryl isn't gay, either. It was just something I heard."

"Exactly," Rick agreed. "Let's just not bring it up again, all right? Don't go running off and repeating that—especially when the guy isn't around to defend himself about it." The firmness of Rick's voice effectively put an end to the conversation, and the rest of dinner passed in quiet chit chat about mundane topics that Rick ignored. When everyone had finished, the small group of friends stepped out into the hot Georgia sunshine.

"I think I'm going to head back to my room," Rick informed everyone, beginning to walk away. Lori hooked her hand into the crook of his elbow and pulled him towards her.

"You could come back to my room," she whispered quietly, looking up at him, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Sounds great, Lor, but I'm really tired. Go have fun with everyone else; I'm just going to take a nap. I'll meet up with you later." He bent down to brush his lips quickly against hers and then untangled himself from her grip and jogged off. It took him about ten minutes to make it across campus back to his room. As he climbed the stairs he couldn't help but continue to turn the conversation from dinner over in his head. He had realized whilst everyone had been tossing about rumors and gossip that he knew absolutely nothing about his quiet roommate, despite that he was a forestry major. But, his mother had wrangled that out of Daryl.

In fact, Rick had hardly made any attempts to speak to the man any further than "hello"s, "goodbye"s, and "excuse me"s as they danced around each other in their small space. He got the feeling that Daryl was perfectly happy with this arrangement, but it dawned on Rick that he, himself, wasn't. He didn't want to spend his entire school year feeling like he was walking on eggshells. Daryl couldn't be that bad, he must've had roommates the past few years, and maybe none of them had ever tried to get close with the man. It wasn't like he exactly gave off the friendliest exterior, and Rick hadn't seen him interacting with anyone. Maybe all Daryl needed was someone to actually talk to him instead of talking about him.

And Rick had thought about the gay thing. He'd actually been thinking about it for most of the walk back. He thought it may bother him, at first. It wasn't that he was against it at all, he may be Southern, but his mother had never had it in her heart to hate on anyone, and his father took his job to 'uphold the law and protect the innocent' very seriously. So, there had never been any shaming in his household. Yet, he had been walking around the man in nothing but a towel, and, although he thought that may make him feel uncomfortable, he found it didn't really bother him.

If he was completely honest, Daryl was always the one who seemed more nervous whenever Rick stepped out of the bathroom to grab a new set of clothes. Daryl changed in the bathroom, come to think of it, and slept in a t-shirt. Rick didn't think he'd seen him in anything less then pants and a t-shirt in the past two weeks. He slept in just his boxers himself, and he was used to Glenn who also only slept in his underwear. He thought that it was just something that all guys did, but to each his own, he figured. Honestly, he shouldn't be thinking too hard about his roommate's sleepwear. That was weird, wasn't it?

Rick's thoughts were interrupted as he put the key in his door and opened it. He walked into the room to find Daryl sitting cross legged on the bed. He had a white cloth mostly marred by a thick black substance and his crossbow in his lap. He didn't lift his head as Rick stepped into the dorm and closed the door behind him, dropping his satchel into the chair on his desk. He took a text book out of it and a pen before climbing onto his bed and leaning with his back against the wall, crossing his ankles and putting his book in his lap.

For a while the two roommates sat quietly, focused on their different projects. Finally, the silence wore down on Rick like a weight and, combined with his thoughts from earlier, he couldn't contain himself anymore.

"Hey, Daryl?" he began cautiously, placing the cap back on his pen and closing his book, laying them aside.

Daryl paused in his ministrations of apply the black substance to his bow but continued after a moment without acknowledging Rick.

"What are you doin'?" Rick cocked his head to the side, finding himself genuinely curious, much to his own surprise.

"The fuck it matter?" Daryl muttered.

"I'm just wonderin'. Ya' gotta clean it often?" Rick questioned, figuring if he just kept asking questions, Daryl would be forced to keep up the conversation.

"Unless ya' want a shitty fuckin' crossbow."

Rick watched him for a second more, noting how the tenseness of Daryl's shoulders seeped away as he slouched forwards again after a few moments of silence from Rick. He felt almost bad for wanting to break the peace. He watched for a second more as Daryl's large hands cradled the crossbow, supporting it as one would a newborn's head. When he was concentrating this hard, a lot of the roughness of his features melted into a smoother plane. He did not look soft, but the abrasiveness of his scowl was gone. Rick's keen eyes noticed that the crossbow's tan strap had been ripped in two, both ends frayed in a jagged tear. For someone who took such meticulous care of the weapon, the battered and tattered shoulder strap looked out of place.

"How'd you break the strap?"

Daryl paused and finally looked up; those crystalline blue eyes watched Rick with suspicion, though Rick knew he would find nothing but open curiosity there. Rick held Daryl's gaze calmly, as if he was attempting not to frighten away a particularly skittish dog. "My good for nothing, asshole brother broke it." Daryl allowed after he had seemingly determined Rick was not a threat.

"I didn't know you had a brother!" Rick exclaimed, almost overenthusiastically, clinging to the information like a lifeline. This was good, right? He was sure no one else knew that Daryl Dixon had a brother.

"Yeah, well…he ain't around, so's I pretty much don't." Daryl broke eye contact with Rick, looking back down and scrubbing harder than he had before at his crossbow.

"I have a brother, too," Rick offered. "I don't see him much since I came to school."

Daryl paused his ministrations on the weapon, and then began again, slower this time. Rick could see the corner of his mouth turned scarcely upwards. "Younger or older?"

Rick smiled despite attempting to keep himself controlled in the face of Daryl's wariness. "Younger, his name's Carl. He's annoying on his best days. He's seventeen, so he's at the age where he thinks he's right about everything." He chuckled and shook his head at the thought of his brother. "What about you?"

Daryl's lips twisted further up, though Rick couldn't tell if it was a grimace or a smile from the angle. "Merle. He's my dick of an older brother. He's in the military. Last I heard, he was stationed in South Carolina." Daryl shrugged his shoulders as if this information was useless, but Rick was internally doing a touchdown dance. He had broken through, wiggled himself just a little bit into the crevices of Daryl's cavernous mystery.

"Any other siblings?" Rick questioned.

Daryl shook his head, the smile slipping away from his lips.

Rick decided to move away from family. "So, forestry is your major? What got you into that?"

"Like the woods." He grunted. "Ain't no one botherin' me out there."

Rick nodded. "I can understand that, sometimes I just wanna get away."

Daryl looked up, his eyes flashing sharply at Rick. "Whadda ya' have to get away from?"

Rick smirked, ignoring the aggressive lit of Daryl's voice. "Don't tell her I said this," Rick leaned in a bit towards Daryl conspiratorially. "But my girlfriend can be a bit of a pain in my ass, sometimes."

Daryl snorted, surprised by the answer, and shook his head. "'S why I don't mess with 'em."

"So, no girlfriend?" Rick pried, knowing he was about to step into dangerous territory.

Daryl tensed for a moment before obviously forcing himself to drop his shoulders and relax. "Ain't got a fuckin' girlfriend."

"Boyfriend?" The word was passed Rick's lips before he fully registered what he was saying. He leaned back, holding his hands up slightly as Daryl sprang from the bed like he'd been electrocuted.

"Fuck did ya' just say?" he snarled, acting the part of a defensive predator, stepping towards Rick, who sat up straight as Daryl came towards him.

"Hey, it's fine." He held his hands up towards Daryl's chest in an effort to pacify him whilst also protecting himself from the likelihood of one of Daryl's clenched fists attempting to find contact with his head.

"I ain't a fuckin'—queer." He bit the word as if it burned his throat on the way out. Daryl reached forwards and grabbed Rick by the collar of his shirt. Rick made no move to shake Daryl off except to put one of his forearms against the front of Daryl's ribcage. He stared stoically into Daryl's ice blue eyes. "Who the fuck told ya' that? It was that damn gossiping Chinaman, wasn't it?" Daryl growled, his breath hot on Rick's face.

"No one said anything, Daryl, just calm down," Rick said carefully, keeping his voice low and even. He'd been practicing his come-down voice since he was old enough to know what it was. His father had always said it was a police officer's strongest weapon.

Daryl shoved away from Rick, sending him falling backwards on his bed. Rick bounced for a second, watching as Daryl crossed the room in three long strides and disappeared out into the hallway.

The door slammed behind Daryl as he stormed out of the room. He leaned against it, panting slightly and clenching his shaking hands against his thighs. That bastard didn't know anything. He couldn't. Daryl hadn't even so much as stared at his roommate since the first day of school, when it had been impossible for him to keep his eyes off the warm person that was Rick. Honestly, Daryl had spent the past two weeks with his nose buried in more books than he'd ever touched in his entire life, just to keep himself from watching the devastatingly handsome curve of Rick's jaw as he snacked on potato chips or the lithe muscles that rippled when Rick bent over to retrieve clothes from the bottom drawer of his dresser, draped in nothing more than a towel.

God, what kind of fucking pervert was he? The man had a girlfriend, for fuck's sake. He was too attractive, too friendly, too popular to even pay Daryl a moment's attention. Rick had practically avoided him since their first day together, not that Daryl could blame him. It wasn't like he had a squeaky clean reputation around campus. He had more chance in tap dancing on the moon then he had of even becoming friends with the man on the other side of the flimsy wooden door that currently separated them.

Daryl unclenched his fists and looked down at his hands, where he blankly registered eight crescent shaped cuts on his palms. He chewed his lip before pushing off the door and rolling his shoulders, attempting to work out some of the tension that was building there. The white walls of the corridor were beginning to close in around him and he could see black creeping into the corner of his vision as he attempted to force himself to take deep, shuddering breaths. He stumbled down the hallway, towards the elevators. He slammed his hand onto the down button and leaned against the opposite wall as he listened to the gears behind the metal doors before they slide open.

He stepped onto the elevator, bumping into a small redheaded woman who jumped about four feet away when his shoulder made contact with hers. "'Scuse me," he ground out, barely opening his mouth to force the words through. The girl's wide blue eyes sparkled as she looked at him in shock; she nodded mutely, accepting his apology before scurrying away.

Daryl watched the numbers go down as he stood in the elevator, counting the moment until the doors opened and he could escape out into the evening. The small breeze brushed against him as he stepped outside. He breathed in deeply the heavy Georgian air, looking out over the park across from his dorm building. The sun was setting behind the trees, casting long shadows over the campus. The sky was a shade of dusty purple, scattered with a few plum colored clouds that clung low on the horizon, promising rain.

He dug around in the loose pocket of his jeans, fishing out a smashed pack of cigarettes. He shook one out of the carton and lit it quickly. He inhaled a huge drag, filling his lungs and closing his eyes, turning his face towards the heavens. He held the smoke inside him for as long as he could, before slowly exhaling, opening his eyes and watching the pale line drift into oblivion.

"Hey! You have to be ten feet from any building front in order to light up! C'mon, man." Some kid was sitting on a bench next to the entrance watching him with a disapproving gaze.

Daryl flicked the asshole his middle finger before turning away from him and slipping down the alley that was made up of two dorm buildings standing near each other. It was about four feet wide, open at both ends and used as a short cut occasionally. Daryl walked until he was far enough in the shadows to avoid being seen from either street. He continued to puff on his cigarette, attempting to calm the rattle of his panicked mind.

He didn't know how he was going to be able to face Rick again after flying so defensively off the handle. The man had a gaze that could pierce metal, that Daryl felt like reached down into his soul and stole his most precious, darkest secrets. He must be able to see right through him, must be able to peer all the way into every mark and abrasion he'd ever had—physically and emotionally.

The sound of footsteps interrupted Daryl from his sinister and spiraling thoughts. Someone was coming towards him from the back side of the building. Daryl dropped his finished cigarette, crushing it with the toe of his boot. He turned to walk back towards the building not wanting to be in contact with anyone. He hoped Rick had the good sense to disappear for a while.

"Bye, guys! See you tomorrow!" He'd know that rumor-spreading, jovial voice anywhere.

Daryl stopped mid-step, all the anger that he had just forced down came roaring over him like a tsunami. He attempted to blink the red tinge to the edge of his eyes away, willed his feet to continue moving forward. His body did not listen to him and he found himself pressing against the brick wall, concealed in the shadow of twilight. Glenn's footsteps neared and with every movement of his tennis shoes; Daryl's heart beat harder and faster.

Glenn was practically on top of him before he stopped, his hand clasped around the strap of his flamboyantly colored backpack. "Hello? Is someone there?"

Daryl didn't say anything, he found himself holding his breath. He shouldn't be doing this. He wasn't someone who waited in dark alleys to jump people, but then Rick's voice rang in his mind. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. It repeated with every rapid pulse of his heart.

Glenn took a cautious step forward. "C'mon, man, I know you're there." He chuckled nervously and the sound snapped Daryl into action.

He sprung forwards, grasping Glenn's white and blue shirt and lifting the smaller man off his feet. Glenn yelped in shock and Daryl slammed their foreheads together as he pressed his against the rough brick wall. "Shut the fuck up."

"I don't have anything. Let me go." Glenn attempted to punch him in the side but besides a small twinge from a rib that had previously been broken Daryl felt nothing, his anger shielding him.

"The fuck you been tellin' people about me?" Daryl growled, their noses practically pressed together they were so close together. Glenn quit struggling, his legs hanging limply a few inches off the ground. His hands loosely gripping Daryl's wrists.

"Daryl?"

"Fuckin' tellin' people I'm a fuckin' queer. How pansy ass ya' think people would think I was if I smeared your blood on this wall?" Daryl's voice was so distorted with anger he could barely recognize it himself.

"I—didn't. Daryl, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it, I mean I don't care…if you are…" he chuckled humorlessly and Daryl could feel him gulp from where his knuckles where pressed against his throat.

"I'M NOT GAY!" Daryl roared in the kid's face, causing him to scrunch up his features against the sound.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, I get it. Straight as an arrow. Can—can I go now?" Glenn asked meekly, dropping his hands from Daryl's wrists.

Daryl blinked once and then let go of Glenn without warning stepping back as the man crumpled over. He stood up and rubbed his throat. Daryl watched him from the shadows, his eyes hard and cold, his fists clenched at his sides, his arms shaking violently. "Get the fuck out of here." His voice was quiet but laced with venom.

"I'm really sorry, Daryl." Glenn looked down at his shoes, shifting his backpack higher on his shoulder.

"Go."

Glenn turned and jogged off, throwing one more look back at Daryl before slowing to a walk and disappearing around the side of their building. Daryl dug another cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with shaking fingers; it took him a few tries before the stick cherried. He closed his eyes and prayed that no one else disrupted him. He finished his cigarette in peace. Daryl sighed and dropped the cigarette to the ground, toeing it out. He felt much calmer, though his stomach twisted with anger of a different kind, self loathing coating his insides with a chill.

What kind of bastard threatened innocent people for no reason besides their own shortcomings? He knew exactly what kind of bastard and it wasn't who he ever wanted to be. He pressed his eyes closed and ran a hand over his face, drawing a shaky breath and scrubbing his fingers through his short beard.

Maybe Rick hadn't left yet and he could apologize for his behavior. He began to walk forwards but his foot caught something light, kicking it a few feet in front of him. When he reached it, he picked it up off the ground, turning it over in his hands.

It was a red and white baseball cap.

He sighed and beat it against his thigh once to dislodge any dirt it might've picked up in the alley. He folded it as much as it would bend and shoved it in his pocket.

Two apologies.