Author's Notes: Alright, the timeline of the story is back to normal now. This chapter picks up immediately after chapter 6 ends, in case you need a refresher.
Chapter 9: I Feel Disdain, Just Like You Do; I Feel Decayed
Murphy is reeling from the kiss, his head spinning in dizzying circles. This kiss isn't passionate or intense, as the kisses he shares with Daryl usually are; this kiss is giving and sweet and tender, and he can swear he even feel some love in it.
Murphy's only ever felt this kind of sweeping undercurrent of emotion while he was kissing Connor. He loves this kiss, but it terrifies him at the same time, because it means that he drifting even farther away from Connor, and the only other island in sight than he can cling to is Daryl.
Daryl lifts up, his lips leaving Murphy's so he can look down at the man, and he brushes Murphy's bangs back on his forehead; it is the same gesture Connor has done to Murphy a hundred times over the course of their lives, but it feels so much different, so much more poignant, when Daryl does it.
"Better?" Daryl asks, his voice low and husky.
Murphy can't answer right away, not when the taste of Daryl still lingers on his lips and tongue like it was meant to be there. But he also needs a moment to think about the simple one-word question, because he doesn't know if he's better.
If they're talking about that very second in the present time, Murphy is better. He no longer feels like he's drowning, no longer feels like a broken down wreck caught in an all-encompassing hurricane. He feels like he usually does: happy to have gotten a good fuck and ready for a nice long nap.
But if they're talking about in general Murphy isn't better. He still feels like shit for going and ruining things with his soul mate, his Connor. He hates himself for what he's done and who he's become, and wishes more than anything that he could take it all back and never leave Connor's side, never hurt Connor like he now has so many times over. He knows that no amount of apologizing can ever fix what he's broken, because no amount of days and nights spent with Connor can quench his thirst for Daryl.
No, Murphy isn't better. But he has no way to explain all of that to Daryl, because though the words form on his lips they catch in his throat and damn near choke him, and he isn't strong enough to push them out.
So he just gives Daryl a smile that he hopes looks genuine. "Aye, 'm fine now."
That seems to satisfy Daryl, whose lips curve up just slightly into his own kind of smirk. He pecks Murphy's lips once more then settles back down onto the bed, lying on his back with his hands behind his head.
Murphy chews his lip for a few minutes, his thoughts raging in his head. He can't stop hearing Daryl saying Connor knows 'bout us. He needs to know what Daryl meant by that. If Connor approached him, then Murphy will have to step up to the plate, make sure nothing happens between the two of them. He fully understands the extent to what someone is willing to go to just to keep the person they love beside them.
"Daryl?" Murphy speaks softly, his voice barely above a whisper; he doesn't look at Daryl while he speaks.
"Hmm?" Daryl hums out, his eyes cutting to the side to glance at Murphy from his peripheral.
"What did ye mean when ye said 'Connor knows 'bout us'?"
Daryl sighs, biting his own lip. "Don't think ya really wanna know."
Murphy turns his head to look at Daryl, catching the man's gaze for a fraction of a second before it is returned to the bottom of the bunk above them. "Yes, I do."
Daryl exhales a slow breath out through his nose before he speaks. "He caught up t' me in the car area this mornin', said he wanted t' talk t' me. Asked me fer a cigarette, which I gave 'im. Told me he was upset 'bout what's been goin' on between us, but that he just wanted t' see ya happy, an' was willing t' overlook our cheatin'."
Murphy stares at the side of Daryl's face. "Is that all that happened?"
Daryl chews on his lip again for a moment, debating on whether or not he should really tell Murphy what his brother did.
"I know you're hidin' somethin', Daryl, so just spit it out." Murphy huffs, growing impatient.
"He said I should expand my horizons, and then he kissed me, right smack on the lips." Daryl spits the words out, doing it quickly as if he's ripping off a bandaid.
Murphy's eyes widen in shock and he's rendered speechless. He stares at Daryl's profile as if the answers to all of his new questions reside there, his gaze damn near burning a hole in the man's cheek.
Finally, Murphy manages to croak out, "He did what?"
Daryl turns, gives him an incredulous look. "Said he kissed me. Ain't a big deal, though, really." Daryl shrugs, trying to be nonchalant, but inside his heart is racing to beat the devil.
"It is a big deal, Daryl." Murphy counters him.
"Yeah, well, what'd you mean when ya said that Rick knows, too, huh?" Daryl rolls so that he's propped up on his elbow, leaning slightly over Murphy, staring straight into the man's eyes.
Murphy stiffens, his throat suddenly feeling tight. He had hoped that Daryl would forget, or at least not mention it, but he should have figured the tables would turn this quick the second he asked Daryl for an explanation.
"M waitin'." Daryl says, his breath fanning over Murphy's face as his eyes narrow.
Murphy swallows roughly, barely managing to form the words around the lump in his throat. "Rick found me in my cell t'day, wanted t' talk t' me 'bout ye. He said he wants me t' stop seein' ye. I told him I wasn't gonna call it quits with ye unless ye left me first. He tried t' throw a punch, but I blocked him, pinned him up 'gainst the wall. He looked pretty damn d'pressed, tears fillin' up with tears an' shit. He said he can't lose ye. He pulled his gun out of his holster, pointed it right 'tween my eyes, said the day ye leave him for me will be the day he pulls the trigger. Then he just left."
Something close to fury flashes in Daryl's eyes, turning them into hard, blue steel. Murphy is somehow terrified of that look, because he knows it means that someone will probably be getting hurt in the near future. Murphy reaches up and runs a hand down Daryl's arm, hoping that will calm him, but Daryl pulls away so sharply he almost topples right off the bed.
"Daryl? 'S alright. I've had plenty 'a guns pointed at my head 'fore. 'M not afraid 'a Rick, either; I could handle him easily." Murphy tries to make his tone soothing, but it just comes out trembling and scared.
If Daryl flies off the handle and attacks Rick it'll be on Murphy's head. Murphy doesn't want anything like that to happen, because he's already torn Rick and Daryl's relationship far enough apart; if Daryl attacks Rick it'll rip away whatever they have left with each other, put them at odds, make them both more tense and unhappy. And in truth, Murphy wasn't looking for love, wasn't looking to steal someone else's love; he just wanted a good fuck every now and again. He can't help what's happened between him and Daryl any more than he can help what happened between him and Connor.
And then another thought strikes Murphy: what if Connor finds out that Rick pointed his gun at Murphy? Connor would go kill Rick without a second thought, wouldn't even listen to reason or to Murphy's pleas not to. And if Connor killed Rick, Daryl would try to kill Connor, and in a battle with those kinds of stakes Murphy would rather he be on the chopping block than either of them.
Daryl still hasn't spoken. He's just sitting there, fuming, thinking of how to handle the situation.
"Daryl, it's okay, really." Murphy tries again, his voice even softer this time.
Murphy withers under Daryl's stare. "No, it's not fuckin' okay, Murphy. He pointed his fuckin' gun at ya, and yer just gonna sit there sayin' that's alright? Well, it's not alright, not at all. I'm gonna have a talk with Rick."
Daryl abruptly swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, quickly locating his clothes and throwing them on haphazardly. He's moving so fast that Murphy barely has time to register what's happening, and try to put a stop to it.
Murphy practically leaps off the bed, flings himself at Daryl, and wraps his arms tightly around the other man. "Daryl, please. 'S really not a big deal; I can handle Rick if the time ever comes."
"Get the fuck off me, Murphy." Daryl grunts and throws an elbow back, catching Murphy in the ribs.
Murphy makes a quiet groan of pain, but holds fast to Daryl. Daryl struggles under Murphy's grasp, wriggling away from the too-tight embrace. Daryl's beginning to feel claustrophobic and cornered, and he's starting to panic. He doesn't want to hurt Murphy, but he'll have to if the boy doesn't pull back in the next three seconds or so.
Murphy senses Daryl's distress, pulls away. He places both hands gingerly on Daryl's shoulders instead, trying to make his touch more soothing instead of confining. Daryl takes a few deep breaths and relaxes, then turns to face Murphy.
"It is a big deal t' me, a'right? Rick he's… had a lotta stuff happen t' him recently, an' his head ain't quite screwed on right lately. He's likely to really go an' pull that trigger, an' I'm not gonna let that happen. 'M just gonna talk t' him, see if I can't get him t' calm down and accept the situation a bit more. I just don't wanna see either of you get hurt… or worse. I can't lose anyone else, Murph." Daryl's voice is softer than Murphy's ever heard it.
Murphy is enthralled by Daryl's gentle tone, but his words of caring and comfort. He can see in the man's eyes that Daryl's still angry, but at least he won't do anything rash that could get someone hurt. And that makes Murphy love him all the more.
Murphy raises his hands to cup Daryl's cheeks and then leans in, pressing their lips together once more. Daryl's eyes slip closed as he lets his mouth melt into Murphy's, his hands going down to the man's waist to pull him even closer.
Murphy pulls back after a moment, gives Daryl a smile. "I trust ye, Daryl. I just don't wanna tear the two of ye apart any more 'n I already have."
Daryl shakes his head, barks out a laugh. "Ya haven't torn me an' Rick apart, Murph. I did that the second I slept with ya. It's my mess, I'll clean it up." And then Daryl is gone, pulling on his shirt and grabbing his crossbow as he vacates the cell.
Murphy stares after him, feeling lighter and heavier all at the same time.
Connor is in his usual spot in bed when Murphy enters their cell. He's sitting upright with his back pressed against the wall, a gun in his hands. There is no malice in his hold on the gun, but something closer to reverence. He strokes his fingertips over the Beretta, over its silencer, remembering the good old days when it was just him and Murphy and Rocco, or Romeo.
Murphy stares at his twin for a moment, watching the way his fingers move over the shiny metal, remembering the way those fingers always move over his body. Murphy stays silent, letting his brother have this moment; Connor already knows he's there, anyway.
Finally, Connor set the gun aside, looks up. A bright smile breaks across his face when he sees his twin, and that makes Murphy's heart clench painfully. How Connor can still smile at him that way after all he's done is a mystery.
"Ain't seen ye much t'day, Murph. I missed ye." Connor pats the space beside him on the bed, inviting Murphy to come and cuddle with him.
Murphy is hesitant to accept the invitation, because he knows where this conversation will eventually end up. He moves over to the bed and sits on the edge of it instead, position himself so that he can still see Connor's face as they talk. "I missed ye as well, Conn."
Connor's brows furrow in confusion as he takes in his twin's emotional state. "What's wrong, Murphy?"
Murphy sighs, averting his eyes down to the gun resting beside Connor's thigh. Rick's words ring in his ears once again: the day he leaves me for you will be the day I pull this trigger. He can never tell Connor that happened, though for some odd reason he desperately wants to.
"Murphy?" Connor's voice wafts to him on a breath of air, a hand falling on his shoulder and gently shaking him out of his reverie.
Murphy looks up at Connor, their matching blue eyes locking onto one another instantly.
"Connor, why did you kiss Daryl?"