DISCLAIMER: I am not Robert Kirkman, so I do not own The Walking Dead.

"Did you sleep well?" Michonne asks Carl as he makes his way into the kitchen for breakfast.

"Yeah. I didn't hear Judith cry all night."

"That's because I went into her nursery last night when she cried and took care of her."

"You didn't have to do that Michonne. I can-"

"I know you're capable of taking care of her, but you were really tired last night. Figured I could handle it."

Carl smiles at her as he pours a bowl of cereal. "Thanks."

She smiles back. "You're welcome."

They eat their breakfasts in silence for a few minutes before Judith starts fussing. As Carl goes over to Judith and starts to feed her breakfast, he remembers Ron's offer from the previous evening.

"Hey, uh...is it ok if I take Judith out with me today?"

"What do you mean? Out over the wall?! Hell no!"

"No, no! Of course not, I'm not fucking crazy. I had some stuff I wanted to do outside today and I was wondering if I could take her with me."

"Sure. But I'd ask your dad," Michonne says.

Carl nods. "Alright. Hey, did you see that awesome new camera that Rosita-"

"Morning," Rick grunts as he enters the kitchen.

"Good morning."

"Morning, dad. Hey, is it ok if I take Judith outside today? There was some stuff I wanted to do over at the Andersons and I was wondering if I can take her with me."

"I don't see why not," Rick replies, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "As long as you know where she is at all times and you can see her, it's fine."

Carl smiles to himself and finishes his cereal. "Cool. I'm gonna go get dressed."

As he runs up the steps, Rick smiles and does a slow dramatic fist pump in the air.

Michonne grins at him. "What's that for?"

"Im just happy is all."

"Really? What ever is making you so happy must be really kick -ass awesome since it deserves a fist pump," she teases, taking a bite of her toast.

Rick chuckles. "Yeah, it is kick-ass awesome."

"Care to tell me?"

Rick sighs. "Well, I think I mentioned to you a few nights ago that I'm concerned about Carl. I'm worried that he won't ever adjust to being in here and that he'll feel out of place and lonely."

"Oh yeah, you told Carol, Daryl, and I that a few nights ago. Well, as you can see, he seems to be making a few friends."

"Yep, and its sort of a relief to see him get out."

Michonne smiles. "It is. I was a little worried for him too, but he seems ok. I mean, he's got plans for today and he was out with a friend yesterday. You've got quite the socialite on your hands," she jokes.

Rick laughs. "Yes my son, the boy who can't say hi to strangers while on a walk and who gets fidgety while engaging in a conversation, is a socialite."

The front door bangs shut and the two of them turn around as Maggie walks into the kitchen. "Good morning! Hey, Glenn and I are both off today and were wondering if we could watch Judith for the day. Is that alright?"

Rick and Michonne both chuckle. "Fine with me. I'd ask Carl though. I mean, it's his day that's affected if you take Judy, not mine," Rick says.

"Ask me what?" Carl asks as he walks down the steps, placing his worn sheriff hat on his head.

"I was wondering if you'd let Glenn and I watch the baby for the day," Maggie says.

Carl shrugs. "Sure. I mean, just gives me another free day."

Maggie smiles and walks across the room, scooping Judith up out of her high chair. "Thank you."

"Sure. Just let me go pack her a bag of the essentials," Carl says, turning to go back upstairs.

"The essentials?" Maggie and Rick ask at the same time, staring at the boy indecorously.

"You know, diapers, food, blanket, pacifier, toys," Carl explains. "The stuff she needs on a daily basis."

"You could've just said that," Rick mutters with a teasing smirk.

Carl rolls his eyes at him before running back upstairs.

Maggie excitedly smiles down at Judith and bounces her in her arms. "Glenn and I are so excited to try our hands at parenting. We already set up a play area in the living room and put up a safety gate by the staircase."

Michonne raises an eyebrow. "Babies are cute and all, I get it. But...taking care of them is hard. Tara volunteered to do it because she really wanted Carl to have a day off. Why do you and Glenn want to do it?"

Maggie smiles wider. "Now that we're in a safe secure place we're thinking that maybe we can start our own family."

Rick smiles and Michonne lets out an excited whoop. "Really? That's amazing," Rick says, patting Maggie on the back and smiling warmly at her. "That's really amazing. When do you think you're going to try for a baby?"

"Soon. But we want some experience with Judith first," Maggie explains, kissing the baby atop her head.

Michonne pulls her into a hug. "That is great. Congratulations!"

Maggie smiles. "Thanks. Do you two think that you could keep it a secret though? It'll just be more fun to tell everyone later if its a surprise and easier to forget if...things don't work out."

"Sure, we'll keep it to ourselves, but try not think of it like that. This place is safe. I honestly believe that you'll be able to start a family here. I have faith in this place," Michonne says reassuringly.

Maggie nods and smiles. "You're right. I'm sorry, its just hard to always think positively after everything that's happened. It seems like everytime something good happens to us, it falls apart and is ruined rather quickly."

Rick looks at her sympathetically. "I get it. I think we all feel that way, but you know what? Whenever I think everything's gone to shit and there's no hope, I look at my rays of sun. My rays of sun are you, and Michonne, and Daryl, and Glenn, and Carol, and Sasha, and Rosita, and Tara, and everyone else in our family. All of you show me that I can go on, and that you'll be here with me to push us forward. My brightest rays are my son and my daughter. I look at Carl, and I think there must be some sort of chance for all of us to survive. If my little boy, my innocent boy, has made it and is thriving and adapting we must all have the power in us to evolve and survive. And my baby girl, she fills me with hope for a better tomorrow. She gives me faith that there may be hope of safety and security for her one day. For me, she's the lifeline of a peaceful safe world where we can all live without fear. So Maggie, before you give up, look at Glenn because he should be shining like the sun."

"That's beautiful Rick," Maggie breathes, getting teary eyed. She gives Judith another kiss and smiles sadly, wiping the tears on her cheeks. "That's really amazing."

Rick smiles humbly and nods. Michonne looks at him with respect and admiration. "That was beautiful," she agrees, gently touching his arm. "You've got a good, strong mindset."

Carl ruins the emotional moment as he bounds back down the steps holding a backpack full of diapers, baby wipes, and some stuffed animals and puzzles. He tosses a few cans of baby food into the bag and helps Maggie sling it over her shoulders. "There's enough food in there for two meals and a snack," he says. "If she gets fussy, give her the stuffed giraffe. Its her favorite and it usually calms her down. If she starts to make a weird kicking motion with her feet and gurgle quietly but not cry, she's tired. Sometimes, you need to swaddle her up in a blanket and hold her for her to go to sleep."

Maggie nods and reaches down to give Carl a one -armed hug. "Thank you, Carl. Since Glenn and I are taking baby duty today, you should go out and have fun again. Go make plans with...Ron right? His names Ron?"

"Yeah. Actually, we sorta made plans last night when he walked me home. I was gonna take Judy with me, but I don't have to now since you and Glenn are gonna play house with her."

Maggie jokingly gives him a little shove before wishing them all a good day and walking out with Judith.

"So...what kinda plans did you and Ron make?" Rick asks casually as he downs his coffee.

Carl shrugs. "Not anything in particular."

Rick nods. "Alright. Well, I gotta go. You have fun, ok?"

Carl nods as his dad pulls him into a hug before leaving. Michonne gets up and ready to go too. "Don't get into too much trouble without me," she says, punching him lightly on the arm.

Carl grins and gives her a shove. "Im not making any promises."
-

Carl feels awkward and sort of needy going over to the Andersons himself, so he sits in the family room for awhile and absentmindedly tosses around a tennis ball.

Around noon, there's a knock on the front door. "Its unlocked!" Carl yells, throwing the ball off the wall and catching it on the rebound.

He looks over his shoulder to watch Ron walk into the room. "What's up?"

"Not a lot. I see you're still missing your Judith-unit today."

"Yeah, Glenn and Maggie wanna watch her for the day. So...looks like I'm free again."

Ron smiles. "Cool. You still up for robbing the supply house of all it's Hershey bars and marshmallows then making a fire?"

"Sure, if you're still up for it."

"Yeah, c'mon," Ron says, grabbing Carl by the wrist and leading him outside.

The two of them jog to the supply house, whispering conspiratorially back and forth about how this heist is going to work.

"You know how the supply house works, right?"

"No, what do you mean?"

"There's a huge chalkboard in there that lists everything they have in inventory and the amounts. There's a second huge chalkboard with everyone's name on it. Whatever you take, you have to write it beside your name and how much of it you took. Olivia counts all the stuff at the end of the day and makes sure what was signed off lines up with the inventory."

"How the hell do we do this?"

"Well, my dad stole a bottle of sherry once, so I don't think Olivia counts accurately."

"Alright, so we'll take a subtle amount."

"Do we sneak in through a window?"

"No. If someone sees us, that looks really suspicious."

"We could just casually walk in and scope it out first, see how many people are in there before we do anything."

"That's a good plan, but what if someone is in there? Do we wait them out?"

"No, we'll just maneuver around them. Wait til their backs are turned before we grab anything."

They stop in front of the supply house. "If someone asks, we're getting toiletries and bread," Carl mutters.

"Got it," Ron replies as they walk inside.

To their relief, the supply house is virtually empty. The only people in there besides them are Eric and Aaron, who seem to be picking up their weekly groceries.

"Hey guys," Ron says, waving their way.

Eric and Aaron both smile politely at them. "Hi guys. What's up?"

"Nothing much," Ron says with a shrug as he and Carl wait for the two of them to finish picking up their supplies and mark off what they take on the board. "What're you two doing?"

"Nothing all that interesting, getting our groceries for the week," Eric replies, bagging a few cans of soup. "I make dinner and clean the house. Aaron's the one who does 'interesting' things," he teases, giving his husband a mocking look.

Aaron snorts. "I haven't really been up to much lately myself. I took Daryl out on a run to a warehouse yesterday, but it was a smooth trip without any complications really."

"It's still more interesting than making a pot of chili and helping Mindy repair her sink," Eric replies.

"Its safer though."

Eric shrugs. "I miss it out there. And it isn't safer in here! Mindy is a scary bitch that just yells at her husband and gossips about the neighbors and I personally find the oven intimidating."

Aaron looks over at him and laughs. "The oven is intimidating?! I may just have to find a braver partner who doesn't cower before our kitchen appliances!"

Eric laughs at him and dramatically pretends to stab himself in the chest. "My god, the dejection!"

Carl can't help but smile as he watches the two of them laugh at each other and playfully taunt one another. He remembers when his mom and dad used to be stupidly in love and do stuff like that; all the times they'd bake together his mom would jokingly smear icing in his dad's hair and his dad would throw handfuls of sugar on her and all the times his dad would pretend to tackle her onto the couch and the times his mom would act like she was trying to hit him over the head with her skillet. Carl sighs. He really misses his mom, and lately he's been feeling particularly sad about her death. Maybe it's because he's had more time to think about it now that he doesn't have to solely focus on his survival. He thinks that's it, because he's having more restless nights in his warm bed than out on the road, most nights he wakes up almost in tears with Beth, Hershel, Dale, or his mom on his mind. Sometimes, if he's not really doing anything, his mind drifts to his deceased loved ones and he feels his heart begin to ache. Every once in awhile, he'll forget they're dead. A few days ago he went to tell Tyreese about Sasha getting a promotion on night watch, when he remembered that Ty is gone.

"Anyway, aside from my husband denying my life being absolutely terrifying, what're you two doing?"

"Running an errand for my mom," Ron answers with a shrug, looking bored.

"Alright, well, we'll leave you two to your 'shopping' then," Aaron says as he and Eric start to walk out. As they leave, Aaron quickly grabs both boys by the shoulders and leans down to whisper in their ears. "The best way to get away with it is by signing off what you took out on someone else's name. Even out the number of what you take and distribute it realistically between me and Eric or only take a small amount. Olivia doesn't really count, she estimates. Do it either way so you won't get caught."

Neither boy has the slightest idea of how the hell Aaron knows what they're up to, but he obviously knows, because he shoots them a cocky smile and pats them on the back as he leaves.

"How the hell did he know? We barely said anything," Carl mutters.

"I don't know, that's really creepy. I hear Aaron's really good at reading people, so maybe he picked up on it because we DIDN'T say much or maybe we looked guilty?" Ron suggests.

Carl shrugs. "At least he doesn't seem to care and he gave us some pointers."

Ron chuckles as he starts pawing through a cabinet. "Yeah, I don't think he's going to rat us out."

Carl starts to look around too, digging around the freezers.
"Hey, do you know how long Eric and Aaron have been together?"

"Uh...there were already married when the apocalypse started, so I'm not sure. Why?"

Carl shrugs. "Just wondering. They both seem like pretty cool guys."

"Aaron and Eric? Yeah, they are. Aaron brings back really cool stuff with him from his runs. I mean, he obviously brings back necessary shit like food and medical supplies, but he's always thinking about everyone else too. He brought Sam a used DS system and charger once, and he brought me a few of my CDs, like my Bob Marley CD and my Simple Plan CD. Eric is really nice too. Whenever something breaks, like the dishwasher or the AC, he fixes it."

Carl nods. "It's really awesome what you have here. You know, the whole domestic scene?"

Ron pauses in his chocolate bar search and looks over his shoulder at the hatted boy. "Did you miss the whole neighborhood thing?"

"I didn't really think about it out there, but now that I'm here, I realize that I kinda like it. I like being able to see a walker-free street every morning. But...I miss some aspects of being out there."

"Like what?"

"It's...hard to explain. I miss...the adrenaline rush you get. I don't miss living in fear, but I miss...that buzz I get when I'm running for my life or fighting off a few walkers."

Ron doesn't really understand. Its just as confusing to him as Carl's fascination with seeing over the wall, but he assumes that like the shorter boy's fascination, its something you have to experience to understand.

"A lot of people say that you feel most alive when you're an inch from death," Ron says.

Carl smiles to himself. "I guess that's sort of true." He's about to contemplate the statement deeper and get sucked into his head, when he hears Ron let out an ecstatic laugh.

"Alright! I found the chocolate! There's a shitload in here, like they've REALLY been saving up on the chocolate," Ron says, grabbing several bars and laying them out on the floor.

Carl smiles. "Holy shit, that's the most chocolate I've seen in...forever really."

"Ok, we can probably take about 20 bars without anyone noticing. They've got enough chocolate in here to put Willy Wonka out of business," Ron muses, stashing the chocolate bars inside his jacket pockets.

"I found the marshmallows," Carl says, taking a bag out. "There's only three bags though. Do you think they'll notice that its gone?"

Ron shakes his head. "Probably not, most recipes don't use marshmallows and there's not many reasons someone would need any, so the bags just sit in the cabinet for months. But if you really wanna play it safe, mark it off under Aaron's name."

"Its not really a robbery if we sign the food out under someone else's name. Its more like... Identity theft," Carl observes aloud.

Ron laughs at him and shakes his head. "Well, I guess so. It's not really much of a burglary to begin with though. I mean seriously, we walked in through the main entrance without any weapons or face masks, conversed with people, and someone else KNOWS that we're stealing."

"We're like, the best cat burglars ever, huh?"

"Yep."
-

After a few more minutes of looking, Ron finds a box of graham crackers. (Which they sign off on Aaron's name because its the last box, so they're officially identity thieves now)

"We have this charred up old pit in our back yard. We can make a fire in there," Ron says as he and Carl walk to the Anderson household. "Did you guys have fires out on the road?"

"Yeah, but not for fun. They were for cooking our food and keeping warm at night," Carl explains as they walk into Ron's yard.

"So this is your first recreational fire then, huh?" He teases as he drags an old black fire pit out from underneath his porch. Its filthy, and leaves ash all over the taller boy's fingers.

"Do you have any sticks to roast the marshmallows on?"

"No. We can just get some from the yard and sharpen them with a pocket knife," Ron says, dusting his sooty hands off on his jeans.

"How about fire wood? Do you guys have any?"

"Uh, we have a few logs in the garage. It probably isn't enough though, so we can ask around for some more or just burn other stuff."

"What kind of other stuff?" Carl asks. "We used some really weird shit to build fires out there. One time, after a group of wild dogs attacked us, we had to use their meat for food and burn the carcuses to make a fire. It smelt really awful," He says with a look of disgust, flinching a little as he says it. 'Why the hell did I say that? That's not a normal thing to talk about. He probably thinks I'm even weirder now,' he thinks gloomily, tempted to kick himself.

Ron stares at him in shock for a minute before replying. "I was thinking old newspaper, sticks, and maybe some trash like empty milk cartons and cereal boxes. But you know...dead dog bodies work too. I don't think anyone's got a dog around here though," he says, playfully giving the other boy a push and trying to make him feel less awkward.

Carl smiles a little and shoves him back. "Alright then, I guess we'll go with your idea then. Just so you know and don't get all cocky, we're not going with you're idea because its better, we're going with it because there's a lack of dog bodies."

Ron smiles back at him and playfully rolls his eyes. "You're just jealous that I'm intellectually superior. Anyway, I know Spencer has some extra fire wood stored in his basement. We should go ask him," Ron says, emptying all of the chocolate from his pockets out onto the driveway. Carl takes the bag of marshmallows from out under his hat and sets it by the chocolate.

"And if he doesn't have any wood or won't give us any?"

"Don't worry, he has some and I know he'll share it. If he doesn't for some bizarre reason, Aaron and Eric probably have some."

Carl nods and follows Ron down the street.
-

Spencer is in the middle of a huge fight with his mom and brother, Aiden, about how 'Rick's Group' should be allowed to help on night watch. Spencer claims that they're all great shooters and trustworthy people that have made night watch both easier and more fun. Aiden claims that 'Rick's Group' can't be trusted and that they'll probably murder Spencer one night while his back is turned. He also says that his older brother is a 'naive pussy that happily welcomes terrorists into Alexandria.' Spencer retaliates by calling his brother a 'suspicious asshole who can't trust his own family and gets a boner at the thought of getting to play bad cop.'

Deanna sighs and is about to tell her sons to stop it, that they've taken it too far, when there's a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Spencer mutters, sighing deeply and trying to calm himself down as he walks to the front door. He swings it open to see Jessie's older kid, Ron, and that one teenage boy from 'Rick's Group', Carl. Aiden peers over his brother's shoulder and recognizes Carl. "Speak of the devil," he mutters dryly with a sneer. Spencer sharply elbows him in the ribs and smiles as his younger sibling walks away grumbling.

"Hey guys. What's up?"

"Do you have some wood that we could use to make a fire?" Ron asks.

"Sure, wait here, I'll go get it from under the porch," Spencer says before disappearing back inside the house.

Ron gives Carl a small kick and gives him a look that says, 'See? What did I tell you?'

"Ok guys, here's ten logs. This should be enough to keep a fire going for a few hours," Spencer says, distributing five logs to each of them to carry.

"Thanks, Spencer."

"Its no big deal. Hey, uh, why are you guys having a fire? Making s'mores or having a camp out in a backyard?"

"No, we're cooking dogs," Ron and Carl reply at the same time, causing both to start laughing uncontrollably. Spencer stares at them like they're insane before slowly closing the door.

"Who was it?" Deanna asks.

"Ron and Carl. They wanted to borrow some fire wood."

"That's nice, they're probably having a little cookout or something. Its good that Rick's family members are integrating themselves in with our people. If they do it, they eventually won't BE 'Rick's Group', and I think that's what's best."

Spencer smiles at his mom. "So you agree with me?"

Deanna sighs. "I've talked to all of them, and none of them have given me any reasons to distrust them."

Spencer smiles and nods. "Yeah, you're siding with me."

Deanna groans. "Im not siding with anyone, I see where both of you are coming from and you both have plausible reasoning behind your beliefs. But...I don't see any problem with Sasha, Rosita, Tara, Noah, Abraham, and Glenn doing night watch."

"Awesome!"

"How much firewood did you give them?"

"A few logs, we still have a ton. Why?"

"Well, this reminds me of having our own fires in our backyard, where we roast hot dogs and marshmallows. I miss it and I think we should have one sometime."

"Sure, its been forever since we've had a fire. Hey mom, me and Aiden used to have codes for things when we were kids, right?"

"Yes, and it was annoying as hell. You thought you were being subtle by calling a failed test 'The F Bomb' or by saying 'I F-bombed it' and you two both used to fill water guns with lemonade and squirt the girls on the block with it. You'd call that 'Lemon fresh airspraying'. You also would say 'Light sabers' and reference other people's 'Light sabers' and laugh hysterically. It wasn't hard to figure out that you were joking about male genitalia."

"So, you're good at decoding?"

"Children's so-called inside jokes and codes aren't hard to figure out."

"Ok, then what does it mean to 'cook dog'?"

Deanna stares at him like he's crazy. "What?"
-

Ron and Carl pile the logs into the pit. Ron lights a match and starts the fire while Carl sharpens two sticks for them to roast marshmallows on with his pocket knife.

"You ever roasted marshmallows before?" Ron asks as he brings two folding chairs outside for them to sit on.

"No. I've helped bake fish at a campout once and I've heated up a can of baked beans over a fire if that counts."

Ron laughs and shakes his head. "Not exactly. Roasting marshmallows is like an art."

Carl snorts. "An art? How the hell is it an art? Don't you just stick it in the fire, blow out the flame, and eat it?"

"Ew, no, then its all burnt. My mom loves them like that, but I think she's just too lazy to roast them properly."

"And how does one roast them properly, sir?" Carl asks in an awful mock British accent.

Ron laughs again and throws a marshmallow at him. "Ok, ok! So maybe 'properly' was sort of an exaggeration. But there is a way to roast them so that they're golden and they taste best when they're like that, doofus."

Carl smiles at him. "Alright, I'll take your word for it."

"You won't have to, because you're gonna eat some in a few minutes," Ron says, tossing a second lit match into the flames.

"Ron?" Jessie calls from the garage as she runs outside. "I smell smoke, what the hell are you- oh hey Carl. You guys are having a fire? I thought you were going to be by the library," she says, sounding genuinely confused.

Ron knows that's what he told her last night, but he just said that on a whim to make her stop talking. "Yeah, the plans changed mom. Is this ok? If you don't want us having a fire, I can put it out," He says, looking at her with the saddest eyes he can make.

Jessie shrugs. "Yeah, its fine. Just put the pit back under the porch when you're done, ok?"

Ron gives her a thumbs up and she walks back inside.

"The library?" Carl asks.

"Its a really long story. To sum it up, dad was in a foul mood and got pissy that I had someone over. Sam asked why dad was mad and my mom said its because he's worried that I'm having the wrong kind of people over. I admit, that really ticked me off, so I told Sam that you weren't the wrong kind of person and that we were gonna hang out again by the library. It was the first place that popped into my head, and I was just feeling...defiant I guess."

Carl nods in understanding. "I get it. Sometimes I just do stuff to piss my dad off because I'm mad at him."

Ron grins. "Me too. I purposefully blast my music sometimes while he's hung over and I leave my shoes in the doorway for him to trip over."

Carl chuckles. "Yeah, I do the opposite of what he tells me to do, even when I know he's right."

"Ugh, I hate when my dad's right!" He groans, running a hand over his face. "Seriously, I'd rather eat dog shit than tell him that he's right."

Carl nods his head exuberantly. "I know, and my dad never admits when he's wrong, and it pisses me off!"

"Same! Even when he's wrong, he's right."

"Exactly! No matter how many times I try to get my point across, its just like it doesn't matter because he shuts me out."

"I hate that! I hate when I'm trying my best to stay calm and civilized, and he's already done with the conversation."

They both sit in silence for a moment, Carl hands Ron one of the sharpened sticks.

"But I love my dad."

"Me too, even if he's a douche," Ron says sullenly.

"Does your dad just hit your mom or does he hit you too?" Carl asks quietly, knowing that its a very personable question and a lot heavier of a topic than the joking banter they just initiated in.

"My mom gets the worst of it, because even if he's going after me, she jumps in and becomes a fucking martyr. It makes me feel like shit. But yeah, he roughs me up sometimes. He doesn't really touch Sam. Like, he'll yell at him and he's smacked him a few times, but he never really hurts him. But...sometimes he's a great dad, you know? Like, when he's sober he's funny and understanding. I just wish...we ran out of alcohol around here so he couldn't drink," Ron admits, looking down at his converse and biting his lip.

Carl looks at him sadly. He gets what he's saying, but he doesn't truly understand. His dad never hit his mom or him for that matter. Once in awhile, he gets so mad at Carl that he refuses to speak to him, but he never gets psychical. He knows his dad is really a good guy.

"Does anybody know?"

"I'm sure everyone has a clue. I mean, I never formally told you about it, and you figured it out. I'm sure everyone sees my mom's bruises and sees my dad staggering around, but... No ones ever really done anything."

"What would you want them to do?" Carl asks.

Ron laughs bitterly. "See, that's the thing. I don't know. I don't want them to take my dad away, but...I want them to fix him. The ideal situation would be if we ran out of alcohol and then Deanna set up a detox center for him to stay at for a few weeks."

Carl feels pangs in his chest as he hears a few sniffling noises coming from the boy beside him. He's not sure if they're close enough for him to initiate physical contact without it being weird, but he feels bad for how vulnerable Ron just made himself, so Carl rather awkwardly leans over and wraps his arms around the his shoulders, pulling him into an even more awkward hug. He feels Ron's back go stiff, like he wasn't expecting a hug, so Carl is about to pull away and apologize when Ron wraps his arms back around the shorter boy and pulls him in closer, resting his chin on Carl's shoulder.

"Thanks," he mutters with a heavy sigh, patting Carl on the back. "Its kinda nice to talk about it...my mom doesn't like to and Sam isn't fully aware of how bad things are."

Carl nods as he pulls away. "Like I said yesterday, you can talk to me."

Ron smiles and scratches the back of his head. "I'll remember that." He reaches down and fishes some marshmallows out of the bag. "So...are you ready to learn how to roast a marshmallow the proper way?" He asks, drawing out 'o' in proper in the snootiest way possible.

Carl laughs and nods. "Why, that sounds absolutely wonderful." He coughs sheepishly. "Damn, my British accent needs work."
-

Like the previous day, Carl has a blast. Sure, he burns the first three marshmallows on accident, and his fourth one catches on fire, but its still really fun to just sit there and attempt to 'properly' roast marshmallows while talking with Ron (who spends 15 minutes on one marshmallow so that it's golden. Carl humbly grants him bragging rights for that). They finally end up with enough good marshmallows (mostly roasted by Ron) to make some s'mores.

"Ok, well, I assume you've never had a s'more since you've never roasted marshmallows before," Ron says, slapping two marshmallows between a piece of chocolate and two graham crackers.

Carl shakes his head. "No, I'm a true camp out virgin."

It takes Ron a few seconds to get the joke before he laughs. "Well then, here's your first s'more ever," Ron says, handing the sticky mess between to graham crackers over to his friend.

He laughs as he watches Carl attempt to eat the goey mess, and end up with several strings of sticky marshmallow on his face.

"Do you like it?" Ron asks as he makes himself a s'more.

Carl nods, taking another bite and getting even more marshmallow on his face. Ron smiles fondly at him as he starts eating, his face becoming just as sticky and messy.
-

"So...this is what you stole? Chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows?" Aaron muses.

"We signed the graham crackers off on your name, so we didn't steal the food, just your identity," Carl replies as Aaron sits with them.

Aaron chuckles as he motions for Carl to let him borrow his stick to roast marshmallows. Carl gladly complies, handing the man a marshmallow and his stick.

"So...s'mores, huh?" Aaron says with a content smile. "It's been ages since I've sat down at a camp fire."

"Me too," Ron says, slowly turning his stick as yet another perfect marshmallow finished roasting. He shoots Carl a teasing smile, waving the golden marshmallow in the air like an Olympic medal.

Carl gives him a joking stink eye and blows him a raspberry.

"Damn it!" Aaron cusses as his marshmallow catches on fire. He quickly blows out the flame and frowns at how burnt it is. He looks at Ron in amazement. "How the hell are you so good at this?"

"My dad and I used to camp in the back yard a lot when I was little. He showed me how to make a prooooooper s'more," he says, grinning at Carl, who simply flips him the bird.

"Give me another marshmallow, I'm gonna do this right," Aaron says with determination. Carl laughs and hands him a second marshmallow, which promptly catches on fire a few seconds later. "Fuck!" Aaron gives up, makes himself a s'more and starts walking away.

Ron and Carl laugh at him as he storms off. "It still tastes just fine with my burnt-ass marshmallows!" Aaron yells back at them, causing them to laugh harder.
-

After an hour, Sam comes out to join them and roasts a few marshmallows and eats a few s'mores. After Sam runs off to play with another boy, Ron puts the fire out. True to his offer yesterday, the two of them head up to his room, find a Nirvana CD, and pop it in the radio. They lay on the floor, singing along and licking the marshmallow off the corners of their lips. Ron shows Carl the sketch of Kurt Cobain that she drew for him a few months ago.

"That's amazing! Your mom's got some amazing skills when it comes to art. If you hadn't told me this was a drawing I would think it was a black and white photo."

Ron smiles. "Yeah, she's an amazing artist. She drew this for me a few months ago. I thought it was a picture at first too."

Carl grins at him. "I guess the artsy thing is genetic."

Ron looks at him like he's insane. "I can't draw or paint worth shit and I'm not creative enough to make sculptures like my mom does."

"You can roast golden marshmallows proooooperly and you referred to that as an art yourself earlier," Carl teases, giving him a playful push. Ron smiles back and retaliates, grabbing the smaller boy under the armpits, flipping him onto his back on the floor, and pining his wrists above his head. Both teens laugh, and wrestle around on the floor for a minute. Ron manages to pin Carl down a second time, hovering above him. Carl squirms around in his grasp and laughs. Ron smiles down at him, keeping his hold on the other boy's wrists. He holds the position for a little too long for it to seem normal, blushes , and rolls off of Carl to lie beside him. He lets out a wheezy laugh and closes his eyes, feeling his cheeks burn. Carl smiles over at him and gives him a friendly kick. Ron grins back at him and keeps his one hand on the brim of Carl's hat, closing his eyes again and humming along to 'Scentless Apprentice'.