DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of the bands, brands, or titles used in this chapter.
The next two weeks are kind of a blur for Carl. He's pretty much relieved of baby duty, as Glenn and Maggie typically watch Judith and if they're busy Tara or Carol usually steps up to the plate and watches her.
Carl spends all of his newly acquired free time with Ron: Sitting in Ron's bedroom playing unnecessarily violent and gory videogames, listening to music loud enough for the whole town to hear, occasionally pulling a mean-spirited yet hilarious prank on Eugene, and participating in a variety of other indiscriminate and stupid activities. Carl can honestly say he's never been happier and that he's most at ease when he's laying in the grass with Ron beside him, debating if its possible to read minds or not and if there's a difference between porcupines and hedgehogs.
The whole thing is a wonderfully new concept to Carl, and he's actually a little bit scared that he's going to fuck it up somehow. He's never had someone like this in his life. He's never had someone to lay down with on the floor and listen to Led Zepplin and Metallica with, to make inside jokes with, to leave fake vomit all over Eugene's bed with, or to really just plain out TALK to. (the closest he's had to this is Michonne) Its amazing to Carl, and he gets this bizarre warm feeling in his stomach that spreads up to his throat and blooms in his chest when he and Ron spend time together. The best part, in Carl's opinion, is that the two of them can be doing absolutely NOTHING and still have a blast. They can just be sitting at the kitchen table and they'll find something dumb yet intriguing to talk about or come up with some zany and idiotic thing to do.
Ron feels similarly if not almost exactly the same. He feels free to open up to Carl, discussing things that he'd never talk about with any one else: like his dad and some of his dumb insecurities. A feeling of total secrecy and closeness sets in when they're together. (Although Ron knows that Carl still keeps a lot of stuff to himself, because he assumes that he's been through a lot out there and Carl seldom talks about anything bad that happened to him before arriving in Alexandria.) Ron has found that he lives for that feeling that kicks in when he's with Carl. It starts out as a bubbling sensation in his face and it floods out and spreads around his body, like pleasantly warm water filling an empty bath tub. He assumes this is what being on drugs is like: a feeling of security, comfort, and contentment, and if so, he now understands how and why people get hooked. He loves that he doesn't feel pressured at all with Carl or like he's being judged or analyzed. It is honestly a totally 'safe zone' to be himself and relax.
Mikey eventually gets over his virus and Ron occasionally invites him to tag along. Carl gets to know Mikey better and learns to like him. Its really not hard to like Mik, he's nice, laid back, and DEFINITELY a people person (something Carl has never been able to be and he respects people like Mikey that can actually tolerate other human beings without wanting to kill them.) But even after Mikey starts to grow on him, he prefers to have Ron to himself. He knows that sounds awful, so he never says anything but has internally accepted that its true. Ron ironically feels the same. He likes Mik, he really does, but he likes it better when its just Carl and him and he'd be lying if he said that he was disappointed when Mikey suddenly was busy all of the time and couldn't hang out. He's pretty sure that that sounds weird, so he keeps quiet about it.
To keep his dad from freaking the fuck out because he's hanging out with 'Rick's kid', Ron lies to his dad about where he's going when he leaves in the morning to go meet up with Carl. When Pete asks, he says that he's going to the library or that he promised to help one of their neighbors out. His mom covers his back for him sometimes when he gets tongue tied and can't come up with an excuse for his departure. Besides the small lying complication Ron is having with his dad, life is good.
-
"What do you think would happen if human beings were to sweat gasoline?"
"You mean... when we'd sweat, gasoline would come out of our pores?" Carl asks.
"Yeah."
"It'd feel sorta gross, wouldn't it?"
"Not really because we'd be used to it. What I'm wondering is if you were sweating and went outside under the sun, would your body catch on fire since it'd be drenched in gasoline?" Ron asks as he and Carl walk down the empty streets of Alexandria. Its evening and Ron is walking Carl home for the night after a full day of bizarre conversations (much like this one) and attempting to throw rocks and empty soda cans over the wall. They also made a pathetic soda-volcano with some Mentos and a liter of soda. (neither is exactly sure what gave them the impulse to make a soda-volcano, but they did. Sam was extremely impressed by it.)
"I don't know, that's a good question. I guess you would since gasoline is so fucking flammable," Carl says.
"That's what I think too. But would your body burn?"
"What do you mean? Of course it would, you'd be on fire!"
"Not exactly. My dad told me that the vapors coming off of gasoline is what catches on fire, not the gasoline itself. But...you'd probably still get burned since you'd be so close to the vapor," Ron says, answering his own question as he thinks aloud.
"Yeah, and you wouldn't have any hair either, it'd probably all burn off. And your eyebrows would get singed off," Carl adds as they approach his house.
"Yeah probably," Ron agrees. "Well uh, I'll see you tomorrow?" He hates how eager and pathetic his voice sounds as he asks.
Carl smiles. "Yeah." He starts to walk up the steps that lead to the porch when Ron grabs him by the arm. Carl turns around to ask what's wrong when he's pulled into a hug. 'This is new,' he thinks idly as Ron wraps his arms around his shoulders. Usually, Ron and he just say their goodbyes after making plans for the next day. Maybe they'd have a quick one-armed hug. But this is the first time that Ron's clung onto him like this while saying goodbye. Carl hugs him back, briefly resting his head on Ron's chest.
"See you tomorrow," Ron mutters in his ear, nudging his nose into Carl's hair and awkwardly bumping his forehead against his hat.
"Yeah, see you then," Carl replies as Ron lets him go. Ron's face is the same color as blood as pulls away. He shoots Carl a twitchy smile before running off. Carl feels his heart pound almost painfully against his ribcage and his lips pull into an impossibly huge smile as he watches Ron go.
-
"What'd you do today?" Michonne asks Carl as he walks in the front door.
"Not much," he replies, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair. He's still smiling like a maniac.
"You were gone all day again today, you must've done something," she replies pointedly.
"You're right, I did. I murdered twelve people and stashed the bodies inside the walls. If you smell something funny, its just the corpses rotting. I killed all of my victims through the head, so don't worry," he replies sarcastically with a smirk, thinking he's the funniest and cleverest person to ever grace the planet.
Michonne smiles and rolls her eyes. She grabs him by the wrist as he tries to walk by. "You only took out twelve? I took out twenty and I used the skin off the bodies to make leather jackets, the bones to make bowls, the flesh and muscle tissue were used in Carol's chili tonight, and I made the eyeballs into a rather stunning ring."
"My my, aren't you resourceful."
"I know I am. And you go and waste all of those corpses by stuffing them in the walls. I'm ashamed of you."
"Don't think you're original with your eyeball ring. Daryl has made body part jewelry too."
"He has?"
"Yep, he made a necklace out of ears once," Carl says with a triumphant smile. "So he beat you to it. You're just following his fad."
"Well, shit. I guess I'll just have to use their teeth to make a hairbrush then."
Carl gags and laughs. "Oh my god, that's gross! Holy crap, Michonne! I can't even jokingly talk about that without getting grossed out!"
"What? The thought of running stranger's teeth through your hair disturbs you?" She asks. Right after she says it, she makes a face and sticks her tongue out. "No, you're right. That's really gross. Ew!"
"See?!" Carl shrieks with a laugh as Michonne continues making disgusted faces and shaking her head.
"Whatever, I'm still going to come up with something to make out of teeth. I will not just be following a trend set by Daryl, because I AM original."
"Original isn't always synonymous with good."
"No, but I am."
Carl laughs until his stomach hurts. Michonne just gives him a sassy smile with a raised eyebrow. Carl loves when he overhears people that don't really know Michonne talking about how 'reserved' and 'quiet' she is, because Carl is close with her and he sure as hell knows that she isn't 'quiet' or 'reserved'. Once you get to know her, she's a witty, spontaneous, wild, and creative woman with a personality that Carl would compare to fireworks. 'Reserved and quiet my ass...'
"You aren't synonymous with good either."
"You're right, I'm not synonymous with good, I'm synonymous with flawless."
Carl lets out a breathless laugh and flops down next to her on the couch. "Shut up."
"Not until you tell me what you did today."
"I won't tell you until you can think of a good product to make out of your victim's teeth," Carl replies. He doesn't really care if Michonne knows what he did or not, he usually excitedly tells her about his day in detail every evening after he gets home. This situation just gives him the chance to string her along and make snarky comments, which are two things that he loves to do. Typical teenage behavior.
"Ugh, fine! Don't tell me what you did, I'll figure it out on my own easily enough."
Carl yawns and watches as Michonne stares him down as if trying to see through his skull and read his thoughts like an Agatha Christie novel. It's actually a little unnerving to have Michonne's eyes staring holes through him and he starts to squirm involuntarily.
"Well, its not hard to guess that you were with Ron. He's all you ever talk about," she teases.
"Ron isn't all I ever talk about!" Carl exclaims.
"You're right, you talk about Batman a lot too."
Carl laughs and gives her a joking punch. "Ok, so all I ever talk about is Batman and Ron? All you ever talk about is Wonder Woman and you bitch about the lack Kit Kat bars around here."
"Hey, Kit Kat bars are the shit, alright? Seriously, if I can only eat one more thing before I die, its gonna be a Kit Kat bar," Michonne says, snatching Carl's hat out of his hands and placing it atop her head. "And Wonder Woman is great. I build shrines to the badass heroine Diana Prince."
"You build shrines? Damn, that's dedication for you," Carl says with a whistle and a teasing smile.
"No, you've spent every day hanging out with the same person for almost three weeks, and you aren't doing it to survive, you're doing it by choice. THAT'S dedication."
Carl laughs and shakes his head, but Michonne sees a pink tint color his face. "Whatever. You know, Batman is better than Wonder Woman and Twix bars are tastier than Kit Kats."
Michonne gasps dramatically and stares at him in mock horror. "What the hell is wrong with you?! How can you possibly think that Twix are better than Kit Kats?! And Batman isn't even CLOSE to being as awesome as Wonder Woman!"
"Nu-uh! Twix bars are so good, that they have to package them in twos to keep the crazed fans satisfied!"
"That's wrong, they come in twos because they're so awful that no one would buy them otherwise," Michonne replies coolly.
"Not true!"
"Is soooo true! And Wonder Woman is better than Batman! C'mon, you can't even compete with the Lasso of Truth or her invisible jet"
"Can too! The Batmobile is better than an invisible jet. Why the hell would you even want an invisible jet!? Wouldn't you just lose it!? And Batman has a utility belt with a bunch of kick-ass weapons on it!"
"Kick-ass weapons!? My friend, the batarang is NOT a kick-ass weapon."
"Maybe not the batarang, but-"
"What the hell are you two screaming about?" Rick asks, poking his head into the living room. He just got Judith to go to sleep and he'll be dammed if the two of them wake her up with their yelling.
"Your son fails to see the amazingness of Wonder Woman and all of her feminist glory. He also has this insane idea that Twix bars are better than Kit Kats. I think you raised him wrong, Rick."
"Well, she thinks Twix bars suck! She also makes creepy shrines to Wonder Woman and is trying to make a hairbrush out of human teeth!"
"Hey, at least I'm resourceful! You just shove your victims in the walls and let their bodies go to waste!"
"You're just sad that Daryl made body part jewelry before you!"
The two of them start to crack up and Rick watches them in confusion. "I'm definitely missing something here..." He mutters. "This is all part of some weird running gag between you two, right?"
"It is and its too hard to explain," Michonne replies, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "Honestly Rick, who's better? Batman or Wonder Woman?"
"Yeah dad, who's better?"
Rick shrugs. "I don't really care for either of them."
"What?! Alright, fine, Twix or Kit Kat?"
An evil smile spreads across Rick's face. "100 Grand Bars," he replies.
Carl and Michonne both start crying out in joking outrage. Michonne takes off one of her shoes and tosses it at Rick. He easily ducks out of the way, chuckling to himself.
"Those are gross! No one likes them!"
"I do, so that's one person," Rick replies, still smiling.
Michonne sighs and rolls her eyes. "You're disappointing. Anyway, your son also denies that all he ever talks about is Batman and Ron Anderson. C'mon you have to agree with me on this, Rick."
"It's not true, I talk about a ton of other stuff!"
"Like what?" Michonne challenges with a smile, repositioning herself on the couch with Carl's hat still on her head.
"Like...Halo! Yeah, I talk about Halo and other videogames," Carl says, giving Michonne a smirk.
"Ah, yes. But who do you play Halo with?" Michonne asks casually, resting her chin on the arm of the couch.
The smirk falls off of Carl's lips. "Ron..." He admits.
Michonne smiles, but before she can talk, Carl hurriedly says, "But I talk about music too! Yeah, Pink Floyd and Nirvana and Green Day... I talk about the music I like."
Michonne clucks her tongue. "Ok, and who do you listen to music with?"
Carl feels his face flush. "Ron," he admits again, curling into himself under Michonne's gaze. "But...I talk about books I'm reading too. Like 'Misery' and 'Bridge to Terabithia'."
"Ok, but you didn't have any access to books until we arrived in Alexandria. So... Who suggested those books to you? Who provides you with books?"
"Well I get the books from the library...-
"Ok, but who suggested you read 'Misery'?"
Carl mutters something inaudibly.
"What was that?" Michonne asks teasingly.
"Ron..."
"Ok, see? You-"
"I talk about Frisball!" Carl shouts.
"Frisball?" Michonne asks questioningly, hints of skepticism in her voice.
"Its this game I made one day at the prison with some other kids, and it in no way has anything to do with Ron," Carl says, smiling triumphantly. "Or Batman for that matter."
Michonne slowly nods and is about to admit her defeat when Rick looks at his son in confusion and says: "Frisball? Is that the game you told me about the other day? The one you taught Ron to play and the two of you were playing it in the yard and accidentally ran into Glenn and knocked him over?"
Carl flushes as Michonne starts howling with laughter. He grits his teeth in annoyance, glaring at his dad. Rick simply shrugs.
"Hahaha! See? You do talk about Ron all the time, whether it be intentional or not," Michonne says with a chuckle.
Carl rolls his eyes, wishing he had an awesome comeback, but he doesn't. Instead he just mutters a flippant, "Whatever."
"Its funny, you do talk about him a lot and I've never really met him," Rick says.
"You met him at that house party the night we got here," Carl points out.
"I know, but I've never really talked to him and you'd think I would've by now since you two are practically attached at the hip."
"I've never really talked to him either," Michonne says. "I don't think anyone in our family has."
"Eugene has," Carl says with a tiny devilish smile, memories of an outraged Eugene chasing him and Ron out of his house with a broom after seeing the fake vomit all over his bed flashing in his mind. "But you're right, no one else has."
"You should have him over for dinner some time, let everyone get to meet him. I mean, you spend most of your time with him and talk about him all the time and we barely know the kid," Rick suggests.
Carl's about to roll his eyes and tell his dad what a stupid idea that is, when he stops to think about it. He realizes that its actually a pretty good idea. He does talk about Ron a hell of a lot (not that he'll ever admit this to Michonne) and he is with Ron 90% of the time. Besides, the Andersons have had him over for dinner four times now, so its really only courteous of him to host Ron.
"Sure. I'll ask him tomorrow. Is it ok if I have him over for dinner tomorrow night?"
"I don't see why not." Rick replies
"This is so exciting! I'm finally going to get to meet the enigma Carl so feverously rambles on about," Michonne teases.
Carl groans, snatching his hat back from her. "Go shove a Kit Kat up your ass."
Michonne just laughs. "Aw, don't be so sour. Are you worried that we're going to embarrass you? Because let me just be clear, you shouldn't be worried about me embarrassing you, you should be scared shitless about it."
"Aw no, are you gonna whip out the baby pictures?" Carl jokes as he starts to walk upstairs.
"Oh of course I am. And I'm going to tell him all about everything dumb that you've ever done ever," Michonne says with an affectionate smile.
Carl just laughs and starts headed up the stairs.
"Where are you going?"
"To bed."
"What, no hug?" Michonne asks, hopping to her feet and outstretching her arms to receive a hug.
"I don't hug people who make hairbrushes out of human teeth," Carl replies.
"I don't make hairbrushes out of teeth," Rick says, also outstretching his arms indicating that he wants a hug.
"Yeah, but you like 100 Grand Bars, and that's reason enough not to hug you," Carl says with a smile as he ascends the stairs.
Rick sighs as his son leaves. He turns to Michonne. "Can I have a hug?" He asks with a goofy smile, holding his arms out.
Michonne jokingly makes a face of disgust. "You heard what Carl said,why would I hug a 100 Grand Bar lover?"
"Because I think that Wonder Lady is better than Birdman," Rick suggests with a smile.
Michonne dramatically sighs and gives him a tight hug. She rests her head on his shoulder.
"Rick, it's Wonder Woman, not Wonder Lady. And its Batman, not Birdman."
"Shoot, really?"
"Yeah," Michonne mutters into his shoulder.
Carl is sound asleep around six AM, curled up in his warm covers. THUD! He groggily opens his eyes, still half asleep, and quietly calls out for everyone to 'shut the fuck up' before rolling over. A second THUD on his window causes him to groan, but remain in his bed. The third THUD is what prompts him to cuss under his breath and stumble out of bed. He rubs at his tired eyes as he rolls out of bed, slowly walking over to his bedroom door. He's about to open the door and look out into the hall to see who the hell dare make such dreadful noises while he tries to sleep, when he hears a fourth THUD, and realizes that the noises are coming from outside his window. Cautiously, Carl pads back across his bedroom floor and stands in front of his window. As he draws his curtains back, a stick hits against his window, making another THUD. He jumps in surprise. "What the hell?" He mutters as he opens the window and pokes his head out.
The sun just rose over Alexandria, the early morning rays of warmth making the dew on the green grass shine like tiny diamonds. Besides a few birds chirping, its silent. Carl looks around in confusion, trying to figure out why there were sticks being launched at his window, when a whisper from below him catches his attention.
"Hey! Hey! Carl! Look down here!"
Carl looks down to see Ron standing in his yard, holding an armful of sticks. "Hey! Carl!" He whisper-yells at him, waving up at him with his free hand.
Carl can't help but smile and laugh under his breath. "What are you doing here?" He whisper-yells down to him.
"What?"
"I asked what you're doing here!"
Ron's smile widens. "There's something I need to show you!"
"What is it?"
"Come down and I'll show you!"
Without thinking, Carl nods. He quickly closes his window, throws on a clean pair of jeans, a hoodie, and some sneakers, grabs his hat, and runs down the stairs and out into his yard to join his friend. Ron beams at him and grabs Carl by the wrist and they tread across several yards in silence.
"Where are we going?" Carl asks quietly after a few minutes of walking. His sneakers are damp from the dew on the grass and the chilly morning breeze is making him shiver. Part of him wishes he were still laying in his warm dry covers, but the majority of him is happy to be out here with Ron. The pleasant pressure of Ron's hand encircled around his wrist makes his heart flutter around his chest like a caged bird.
"You know how Mikey has been 'busy' all week?" Ron asks.
Its been eight days since Mikey last hung out with them. Ron asked Mik if he could chill with them three times and Mikey politely declined each time and said that he was too busy. He never said what he was actually doing and never even dropped any hints as to what he was up to.
"Yeah?"
"I know what he's been doing," Ron says with an immature giggle. "And it's friggin hilarious."
Carl knows its pointless to ask the obvious question: What is he doing? He knows Ron won't answer him, so he just smiles and goes over each scenario that he can think of in his head, trying his best to guess what the hell Mikey's been doing for the last eight days that's kept him so preoccupied.
As they near the park, Ron starts to walk on his tiptoes to make less noise and Carl does the same out of instinct once he sees Ron doing it. They creep around behind several trees and shrubs throughout the park. Both boys watch where they're walking to avoid stepping on a twig or branch that could snap and alert anyone nearby of their presence. Carl isn't sure WHY they're sneaking around, but he doesn't dare step on anything or make too much noise because he has a feeling that they're spying on Mikey. When Ron ducks behind a thick oak tree a few feet away from the gazebo and motions for him to come crouch beside him, his theory is proven correct. Carl carefully kneels beside him and peers around the tree. He easily spots Mikey sitting in the gazebo. The boy has a notebook in his lap and is furiously writing in it, pencil flying across the page.
"I don't get what's so funny. So, he's taken to writing?" Carl asks in confusion, not sure why Ron dragged him out of bed for this.
Ron giggles and shakes his head. "Just wait for him to read a passage aloud," he whispers.
The two of them wait in silence for about four minutes (all the while Carl thinking about his comfy bed) before Mikey clears his throat and begins to read his writing aloud: "I've never been able to fully express how good I think your hair smells. Honestly, it smells like a coconut had a baby with a mango, and then this baby put on a bunch of sweet smelling perfume. Not only does your hair smell good, it looks good. Your hair is pretty and so is the rest of your face. My favorite part of your face is your nose because its adorable and reminds me of a kitten's nose. But just because your nose reminds me of a kitten's doesn't mean that you remind me of a kitten. Actually, far from it. You're a total bad ass. I respect that you're not afraid to leave Alexandria and that you have a yearning for freedom. Its really cool and makes me think of a ninja. You're a pretty ninja that smells good. And Im afraid that you're going to hurt me, both emotionally and physically when I tell you this, but I love you. You're the most perfect human being I've ever met."
Carl has to bite down on the sleeve of his hoodie to keep from bursting out laughing. Ron is shaking with silent laughter, his hand over his mouth to keep from making any noise. Mikey continues to read his writing aloud with a flamboyant smile on his face. Halfway through his 'pretty ninja' paragraph he stops and shakes his head. "This part sounds choppy," he mutters, erasing a few of his sentences. A quizzical look flashes over his face as he ponders what to write. "You're the light at the end of my tunnel...no that sounds suicidal. You inspire me to be a better person...cliche. Uh...I admire you're bravery and individuality. Yeah, that's it!" He mutters happily, continuing to write.
At this point, Carl's biting down on both of his wrists to keep from laughing and both he and Ron are red in the face with unshed tears of laughter building up in their eyes. Ron grabs Carl by the wrist again and they quickly yet quietly jog away. Once they're out of the park and on the streets again, they hunch over and start choking on their laughter.
"Wh-what the h-hell did I just l-listen to?" Carl asks as he laughs hysterically.
"Sounds like a pathetic attempt at a love letter to me! I caught him reading aloud his writing last night as I was coming home and I briefly listened to his weird infatuated rantings a few nights ago while taking the trash out, but I wasn't sure what exactly he was doing. When I overheard him this morning and eavesdropped for a few minutes, I finally figured out that he was reading aloud his OWN mushy writing instead of some chick-flick novelist's writing!" Ron says with a smile, a few chuckles vibrating in his throat. "Still not sure WHY he's writing awful love letters and poetry, but he is."
"Because he's in love," Carl replies simply with a smile. "And he's so helplessly in love that he feels the need to extravagantly express this love of his to the one he's tripping over himself for."
Ron nods. "Yeah, probably. I get it but I still don't understand why he hasn't found a less...painful way to do it. I mean, no offense to Mik, but he's no wordsmith and his words don't tug on my heartstrings by any means. The closest thing to a physical reaction that I have to his poetry is my eardrums bleeding."
Carl laughs in agreement. "Yeah, he's not a poet ...but maybe the person he's trying to show his love for will appreciate how...'Mikey' it is, you know? His writing style obviously isn't similar to Shakespeare's, but its definitely uniquely his. So...maybe they'll smile at his love letters and think of how original they are and how sweet Mikey is to have written them," Carl suggests.
Ron hums a laugh. "Yeah, maybe. I just don't think who he's after is going to appreciate his gooey, sappy writing."
Carl looks at his friend questioningly. "Who's he in love with?"
"Aw, c'mon Carl! He mentioned in the litany that we listened to that he admires their bravery and how they're unafraid to go over the walls and that he thinks that their 'yearning for freedom' is awesome. Who do we know does that sound like?"
"Enid."
"Yeah. Do you really think that Enid is gonna appreciate his sappy letters?"
Carl shrugs. "Maybe. I know that she comes off as an independent and withdrawn loner, but she could be secretly wishing that someone loved and admired her. And Mikey REALLY does love and admire her, so...maybe she'll read those letters and poems and get all emotional and shit and think 'Wow, I never thought that I could be so deeply admired, accepted, and loved by someone. I really never even imagined that I'd meet someone who loved me despite my flaws and accepted my broken parts.'"
Ron smiles at him faintly. "You could be right, a lot of damaged people hide stuff. She could secretly want someone or maybe even like Mikey. But I don't think E is a romantic, but you certainly are with that mindset."
Carl smiles. "I guess I am. Let me know if my sappy shit annoys you."
"It doesn't, its actually kinda nice and refreshing," Ron replies with a smile. His heartbeat picks up as he watches Carl's lips curve into a sincere grin.
"So...looks like we've got an early start to the day today since its only six thirty and we're awake. What do you wanna do?"
-
They end up sneaking into the supply house to hang out and chat while playing card games. They talk about books that they've both read and movies they've watched but they mostly talk about Mikey and his sonnets to Enid. They also talk about Enid a lot.
"She's been gone for 23 days now," Carl says, hints of worry in his voice.
Ron sighs as he deals the cards. "Yeah, its been awhile. I'm always nervous while she's away. I mean, I know she can take care of herself but it's still nerve-wracking not knowing where she is and if she's ok or even alive. Don't get too worked up though, 23 days seems like a lot but its not the longest that she's been gone. She was gone for three months once. I had been pretty fucking sure that she had gotten herself killed, but she eventually came back. The point is that sometimes she's gone for days, other times weeks, and occasionally even months."
Carl nods. "Ok, so being gone this long isn't totally abnormal for her. I'd go looking for her, but I don't even know where to start. She could be anywhere and its hard to even begin searching for someone when you don't have any fresh tracks to trace or any ideas as to where to look."
Ron suddenly looks at him with worry. "Yeah, looking for her is a bad idea. Promise me that you'll stay inside the walls."
Carl gives him a funny look. "I can promise that I won't look for Enid but I can't promise not to go over the wall."
"Why not?" Ron asks, anxiety seeping into his tone.
Carl picks up on the distress in his voice and scoots closer to him. "Because sometimes I just go over the walls to relax and unwind or to practice my aim and to keep myself from getting rusty."
"You can practice your aim inside the walls. Spencer and Aiden have targets in their yard. And...I don't know how to help you unwind and clear your head. Just...drink some herbal tea and listen to The Grateful Dead or something!" Ron says exasperatedly, the anxiety becoming even more evident.
"I was never much of a tea drinker," Carl replies with a smirk, despite the severity of the conversation.
Ron groans and gives him a look. "Please just stay in Alexandria, ok?"
"Why? I can take care of myself, I know how to keep myself safe and I'm in control out there-"
Ron laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "Everyone can take care of themselves...until they can't. And everyone is in control...until they aren't. Trust me. My dad was in control. He said that he could put down the scotch whenever he wanted to and that he was in control of himself and not the alcohol. He was all about the fact that he could take care of himself. He didn't need anyone else to lock up the liquor cabinet or make sure he didn't stagger and fall down the stairs because he's was so shit-faced. He was in control and able to take care if himself until he couldn't. And it didn't matter how long he COULD be in control and take care of himself, what mattered was when he couldn't... I don't doubt that you're a great survivor, but I'd feel better with you inside the walls, ok? Just...please stay put?"
Carl stares at him in silence, feeling his heart twist into knots. Ron looks at the floor in shame and pulls his knees up to his chest. Ron hates how stupid, desperate, and broken he sounds so he just keeps his mouth shut and hopes that he didn't piss Carl off. He's about to apologize when he feels Carl's arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him closer. He sighs out in relief and hugs back. Carl props his chin up on Ron's shoulder and soothingly rubs his back.
"I'll stay here, but on one condition," Carl mutters.
"What?" Ron asks.
"You come to my house for dinner tonight and meet my family. They're all teasing the shit outta me because I talk about you and they've never met you. I think some of them think that I made you up and that you're my imaginary friend," Carl jokes.
Ron quietly laughs. "Sure."
-
They spend most of the afternoon talking. Carl warns Ron about how obnoxious, loud, aloof, and uncivilized some of his family members can be. Ron laughs it off, saying his family is probably ten times worse. Carl just shakes his, hoping that his dad doesn't interrogate him, Eugene doesn't go off on some science spiel, Tara contains her excitement, and that Abraham can keep the TMI Conversations and crude jokes minimal. It'd also be really cool if Daryl could use his spoon and fork to eat with for once, but Carl knows that that's REALLY pushing his luck.
Ron tells his mom that he's going to eat dinner with Carl and both of them agree to lie and tell his dad that he's eating dinner with Mikey.
Around six, Carl and Ron walk over to Carl's house. The second the two of them step in the front door, Michonne and Tara practically pounce on them.
"You must be Ron! Hi! Im Tara! Carl's told us all about you," Tara exclaims, shaking Ron's hand.
"Nice to meet you," Ron replies with a smile.
"Im Michonne. You probably know all about me, I bet Carl bitches about me all the time," Michonne says with a teasing grin. Carl rolls his eyes but Ron laughs and shakes her hand.
They manage to walk another three feet before Maggie and Glenn run up to them.
"You must be Ron Anderson! Carl's told us about you plenty of times and I've been waiting to finally meet you!" Maggie beams.
"Ron, this is Maggie and this is Glenn. Glenn and Maggie, this is Ron," Carl introduces as the Korean shakes his friend's hand.
"Hey Carl! Who's the compadre?" Abraham asks as he strolls over.
"Uh, Abraham this is Ron. Ron, this is Abraham."
"Nice to meet you son," Abraham grunts.
"Nice to meet you too."
"Carl! Is this the kid you're always talking about?" Rosita asks. Carl groans and runs a hand over his face and Ron just smiles and shakes Rosita's hand.
"It's nice to meet you, Ron. Carl talks about you so much, I was wondering when we were all going to finally meet you."
"Hello, Ron." Eugene says stiffly. "I'd like to inform both of you that I found the disgusting plastic tarantula that you left in dresser this morning. Very classy of you."
"That wasn't us," Carl says, putting his hands up in surrender.
Eugene rolls his eyes. "Of course it wasn't, because someone else would take the time to pick all of the newly installed locks on my doors, sneak into my bedroom, and place a replica of a terrifying arachnid in my dresser."
"It wasn't them. It was me," Rosita admits with a smile.
Eugene stares at her in shock. "Why on earth would you do that?"
Rosita shrugs. "I was bored. Besides, I live with you so it was convenient. I just walked down the hall and into your bedroom. It was funny as hell too! The way you screamed...oh man!"
Eugene glares at her. "Watch your back Miss Espinosa because I will get, as the kids say, 'Even Steven' with you."
Carl and Ron laugh as Eugene stews. Carl manages to pull Ron into the kitchen to prepare themselves plates for dinner.
"I know that they're all probably annoying the hell out of you right now, but they're actually really welcoming and nice," Ron says.
Carl laughs. "Its easier to like someone else's family because you don't live with them."
Ron snorts. "That's true."
The second Rick walks in the front door, everyone starts to take a seat. Ron and Carl end up sitting with Daryl, Michonne, Carol, Rick, and Sasha.
"So...you must be Ron Anderson," Daryl inquires, eating his salad and pork with his hands as expected.
Ron nods. "Yep. And you must be...Daryl right?"
Daryl nods. "Yeah, Carl tell you about me?"
Ron nods.
Daryl laughs. "You probably only know a quarter about me of what I know about you. Carl talks about you a lot, kid. You must be interestin' or special or somethin'."
Carl feels his face flush and Ron beams.
"Yeah, Carl does talk about you a lot," Michonne agrees, leering at Carl. He simply glares at her.
Sasha smiles. "He does. Anyway, my names Sasha," she says, reaching across the table to shake his hand. "And I already know that you're Ron Anderson, you love DC Comics almost as much as Carl does, you have a radio in your room, and that you spend forever roasting marshmallows but that you can roast them 'properly'- whatever the hell that means."
Ron laughs as he shakes her hand and gives Carl a teasing kick under the table. Carl feels his ears and cheeks burn red.
"Uh, Ron, this is Carol and this is my dad," Carl says, assuming its best to just Introduce them quickly to avoid further embarrassment.
Carol gives him a friendly smile and a hand shake. "Nice to meet you."
Ron smiles back at her, returning the handshake. "You too." He feels his palms involuntarily sweat and tremble a little as Rick turns to face him because he knows that this man is the reason why he has to lie to his dad and that his dad despises this man and he can't even imagine how furious his dad would be if he knew that his son was eating dinner with Rick Grimes
"Nice to meet you Ron. It's great to finally personally get to know you since my son comes home every evening and talks about you for hours."
Ron smiles at Rick and shakes his hand. "Nice to finally meet you too."
"You know, I promised Carl last night that I was going to embarrass the hell out of him and I'm not one to break promises. So, Ron, has Carl ever told you the story about the time that he ate 112 ounces of chocolate pudding in one sitting and lost his shoe?" Michonne asks.
Daryl laughs. "Or about that one time he accidentally lit a kitchen on fire?"
"Or the time he time he tried to playing Scrabble with Hershel? That was pretty funny," Rick muses.
"Ok, in my defense, I had no idea how advanced Hershel's vocabulary was," Carl says.
"Carl, you lost 120 to 760."
"Its not my fault, seriously, who the hell knew that 'vociferous' is a real word?"
Ron is laughing so hard it looks like he might piss himself. "I've already heard the chocolate pudding story, but this kitchen being lit on fire is news to me."
Michonne grins before beginning the story. Carl groans again, tempted to bash his head off the table repeatedly.
-
Its a really great dinner. Ron enjoys getting to meet all of Carl's family members, and even though they are as outlandish and weird as Carl said they would be, Ron really likes them. They all seem nice enough, unique, and down-to-earth. He also loves watching Carl and Michonne make faces at each other as she tells horribly embarrassing stories about Carl. (Although Ron already heard the majority of them already, but they're still funny) He also finds their flaws funny and doesn't really mind. Like how Rick asks him a billion questions, and how he can clearly hear Abraham talking about his urinary tract infection shamelessly a few feet away, Judith crying throughout the meal, and especially how they all keep staring at him like he's an exotic creature. The staring thing is a little bit creepy and uncomfortable, and so are Rick's questions, and he knows more about Abraham's UTI than he ever wanted to know, but he genuinely enjoys himself.
What Ron finds the most entertaining though is when Carl's family members tell him how much he talks about him. It actually makes his heart beat a little faster and that usual bubbling feeling kick in when they mention how much Carl rambles on about him. He supposes that its nice to think that Carl actually likes him enough to constantly talk about him and its also a rather pleasant idea to think that Carl likes him as much as he likes Carl. He doesn't know why it makes him so happy, but it does. Ron obviously doesn't talk about Carl very much in front of his dad, but his mom is constantly teasing him because he always excitedly babbles to her about his and Carl's escapades at night after his dad has gone to bed. Its nice to think he talks about him just as much.
"And your dad's a surgeon right?" Rick asks.
Ron nods.
"Where'd he get his degree from?" Rick asks.
Ron shrugs.
"Your mom is a hairdresser?"
"Yep."
"Did she own her own salon or work in someone else's?"
"She worked in her friend's salon after going to beauty school."
"Ah. And, how old are you?"
"14."
Carl is looks at his dad with a mixture of annoyance and confusion. He's been questioning Ron for twenty minutes now, and the questions are just starting to get pointless and weird. Daryl, Carol and Michonne are all starting to get annoyed too. Daryl and Carol feel bad for the kid, knowing that Rick tends to ask too many questions and make you feel uncomfortable. Michonne feels the same way, having personal experience with being interrogated by Rick. She remembers how the questions just got bizarre at one point, like he when he asked if she'd ever been to California and if she had an STD.
"Ok Rick, I think this game of 20 Questions is over because you've long since blown past the mandatory twenty questions," Michonne says.
"Yeah, I think Ron feels like he's in court at this point," Carol agrees
Rick nods. "Alright, sorry Ron. Sometimes I get ahead of myself."
Ron just shrugs. "It's fine Mr. Grimes." A part of him wonders if Rick just started asking family related questions to get information about his mom, but he doesn't ask. Speaking of mom's, Ron notices that Carl's missing his mom. He knows that he Carl's biological mom must've been around in the last two years since he has a two year old sister. At first he thought maybe Michonne was the mother, but he realized that Carl and Judith would have much darker tints to their skin if she were the biological mom. The same goes for Sasha, Maggie is with Glenn, Rosita is with Abraham, Tara gives him a 'lesbian' vibe, and Carol has mentioned loving Judith 'like her own daughter' over the course of dinner, so he knows she's not really Judith's mom. Ron grimly and accurately assumes the worst and decides not to ask. Maybe he'll talk to Carl about it later.
"Alright, well I made some meringue pie and I think it turned out well. Who wants a slice?" Carol offers with a smile.
-
After some amazing pie, Ron thanks Carol for the meal, and Carl and he start to head home.
"See you again soon kid!" Daryl yells after them. Ron smiles despite himself.
The second the front door closes behind them, Carl lets out a deep sigh and buries his face in his hands. He smiles at his friend. "They can be a bit much, but I love them and they're awesome, ok? And I swear my dad's not weird, he's just overly curious and asks things he shouldn't. Im sorry that you were interrogated and examined like a wild animal. And I'm also sorry that Tara has no concept of personal space and that Abraham doesn't know what kind of things to share with people and what kind if things to keep to himself."
Ron just laughs. "Seriously, its fine! All families are a little rambunctious, I get it. Besides, my mom played 20 Questions with you almost every time I had you over for dinner, so its only fair that your dad play it with me, right? I actually really like your family, they're cool."
Carl smiles at him gratefully.
"Besides, Carol's pie is totally worth listening to Abraham talk about his UTI for. Plus, your mom is really funny," Ron adds without thinking. He cringes when he realizes what he said.
"Michonne's not my mom," Carl says. "I mean, she sort of is at this point but...not really."
Ron nods. "I know I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking about what I was saying."
Carl shrugs. "It's no big deal. I sorta see her as a mother/ older sister figure because she's bossy."
Ron smiles at him. "Well, I'm really glad I met your family. But since I held my end of the deal you've gotta keep yours."
Carl holds out his hand. "Alright, its a deal. I'll stay inside the walls." Ron grins and shakes his hand, sealing the deal.
"So...you talk about me a lot, huh?" Ron teases.
Carl laughs and shoves him. "Don't flatter yourself, I also talk about Batman a lot too apparently."
Ron just smiles and shrugs. "It's just nice to hear that you think about me when I'm not around."
Carl rolls his eyes as they approach Ron's house. He's about to say something snarky and sarcastic when his heart overrules his head and makes him say: "Who else would I waste all night thinking and bragging to my family about?"
Ron looks at him with a sincere smile. "I don't know, maybe Batman. But I'm glad its me, because I think my mom gets sick of me talking about you 24/7."
Carl smiles back at him and hands him four wrapped up pieces of leftover pie. "Here. You can share this with your family or hide it away for yourself."
"Its so fucking good that I might just hide it away," Ron says. "Well...see you tomorrow?"
Carl nods. "Yeah."
He's not as surprised this time when he receives a giant hug, but just as happy. He walks home with a relaxed smile on his face, feeling carefree and ready to face Michonne's merciless teasing that he hates but couldn't live without.