Sunday Morning

Daryl woke up to the familiar wretched smell of his father's house. It was a smell he hadn't had to endure for many years. He rolled off the dingy sofa which he had been sleeping on and pulled himself to his feet. Last night he'd let himself get out of control. He couldn't remember the last time he had passed out from drinking or the last time he'd felt this rough. He felt like a bear had shit in his mouth and Merle had hit him over the head with a baseball bat.

He also couldn't believe he had spent the night in this house. Merle sometimes slept over but Daryl never did. No matter how drunk he was. He'd rather sleep in his truck, hell he'd rather sleep on the cold, hard floor. But here he was. Merle's friend Harley was sleeping in the grotty old arm chair and another one, Bo, was slumped over the kitchen table.

Daryl stretched his shoulders and rushed to the bathroom to try and wash his face and mouth of the stench that he could feel clinging to him. He turned the faucet of the sink and no matter how far he spun the top nothing came out of the end. He tried the faucet on the bath and it was the same. His old man must have neglected to pay for his water bill again. He groaned and left the bathroom.

He had to get out of this house before anyone woke up. He felt his pocket for his keys as he headed to the door. They were gone. Shit.

Daryl walked back to the sofa and pulled apart all the cushions. He didn't find his keys but he did find a handful of beer bottle caps, cigarette ends and an empty pill bottle. He didn't know how his father survived in this shithole. He didn't know how he had survived. He hated being in here, it only held bad memories. It wasn't the house where his Mama had died since that one had burned to the ground but it was the house where it had been just him, his Daddy and his Daddy's belt. Merle was almost always anywhere but at home. Juvie, the army, prison, or just staying with some random pussy that he found.

Daryl poked his head around both of the bedroom doors to look for Merle. He didn't particularly want to speak to his brother but he had no idea where to look for his keys. He found him in his old room, it still had the same peeling wallpaper that had been old and worn when they had moved into the place when Daryl was ten.

"Mornin' baby brother… didn't think I'd see ya this side o'lunch…" a slow grin spread across Merles face. The same grin his brother always got when he was about to cause trouble.

"I'm lookin' for my keys," Daryl said.

His brother sprang out of bed with more vigour than Daryl could ever remember seeing. "Can't find ya keys huh?" Merle scratched his head and pushed past Daryl to take a leak in the kitchen sink while he grabbed a piece of leftover pizza that sat on the counter. "Ya don't remember last night?"

Last night was a blur. He remembered Dale telling him that he was selling the farm and he remembered shots of scotch. A whole lot of scotch. Daryl held his hand over his stomach. He wasn't feeling too hot right now. He wanted a shower and a plate of food.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

Daryl remembered Kate. He'd taken her to Dale's house and left her… shit. She probably thought he was a huge fucking asshole. He was a huge asshole. He'd wanted to cool off and that was it. One quick drink. But Merle had been there and one drink had quickly turned to one too many and then even more.

"I met ya little girlfriend."

"What?" Daryl demanded to Merles back as his brother headed outside.

Merle lit a cigarette and sat on a half broken lawn chair with a smug expression.

"Just fuckin' get it over with an' tell me…"

"Ya smell that?" Merle sniffed the air towards him. "Ya sure do smell like beer don't ya Darylina?"

Daryl smelled his shirt, his brother was right. Then the memories started to trickle through. Small fragments, seeing Kate's big brown eyes looking at him with disgust, listening to Merle's friends saying how they would have liked a long hard fuck with her and then something in the middle.

"She's just some uppity bitch I have to fucking work with."

Daryl felt his cheeks burning with shame. Kate, who was so far out of his fucking league, who he had managed by some grace of fucking god to get to spend the day with him, had ended up in the most run down shit hole in the whole state of Georgia. Being called a bitch by the person who was supposed to be looking after her, supposed to be treating her like a lady, picking her up and dropping her off safely, like she deserved.

Daryl fucking hated himself. In this moment, in his drunken Daddy's shithole house, he had never felt more like he belonged.

"Did ya hear me…" Merle threw a rock at his head and brought Daryl back to earth. "I said Sparky stole ya truck."

"She did?" Jesus fucking Christ.

"Fuckin' hell baby brother, you're the biggest damn pussy I ever met. Lettin' littlest princess kick ya damn ass."

Bo joined them on the porch and jumped up on the table with a huge shit eating grin, "I ain't ever been fucked in front of so many people 'fore."

Daryl knew that he was never going to live this down. For as long as he lived he would hear this story.

"Least he ain't no fag," Merle beamed with pride.

"How much did ya pay for 'er?" Bo batted Daryl's arm. "Ya have to pay extra for a chick with a fancy accent?"

"Jesus, she ain't a fuckin' hooker," what the hell was wrong with him?

"I didn't say that…" Bo pointed at him in all seriousness and took out a little packet of white powder out of his jacket before rubbing some into this gums. "She was obviously high class pussy… High class escort."

How the hell had he ever spent so much time of his life associating with these low lives?

"Ya dumb as shit Bo, he said he found 'er at work… where ya working at baby brother? Why ya not returnin' my calls? Huh? Ya think ya hot shit now, hmm?"

"Gimme ya keys," Daryl held his hand out.

"Nah man I got stuff to do later," Merle spit out a long stream of smoker's phlegm and leaned back in the broken chair.

"Come on Merle, lemme borrow ya chopper for a coupla hours."

Merle's eyes softened a little as he pulled his keys from his pants and threw them at Daryl. "Ya can tell Sparky that I got a fat one waitin' for 'er if she's done playin' wi you."

Daryl ignored Merles last comment. In fact, he tried to erase the entire conversation from his brain as he rode his brothers bike to Jims house. There was no way he could see Kate stinking like beer, sweat, and the rest.

Jim was sitting at the breakfast table reading a newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee when Daryl walked in.

"You didn't come home, I take it things went well," his friend grinned and threw down his paper.

"I got drunk, called 'er a bitch an' she stole my truck."

"Damn… sounds like one of Merles dates. You Dixon's definitely have a way with the ladies…"

Daryl couldn't face Jim any longer. He peeled off his clothes and clambered into the shower. All he could think about was what he was going to say to Kate when he saw her. How was she going to react? He pictured the way she had looked at him just before she poured the pitcher of beer on his head. She'd looked more hurt than angry. He'd hurt her. He couldn't find it in himself to be mad that she'd made an ass out of him. He deserved it.

When Daryl arrived at Kate's house he climbed the five steps that led to her front door with trepidation. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he was terrified to see her. He brought his hand up to the bell and his finger hovered over it.

Shit, he considered going round the corner to the diner he had spotted and having a cup of coffee while he mustered up some courage. This felt a million times worse than being a teenager getting called to the principal's office. Then he thought about Merle calling him a big pussy and pushed the bell. He could hear it ringing and he waited. She didn't answer. He rang it again then began to panic.

It was only 9.00 on a Sunday, what if she was sleeping? What if he pissed her off even more? With that thought he hopped back down the steps and took a seat on Merle's chopper before pulling out his phone. He considered sending her a text message. He never sent anyone text messages.

Daryl was debating what his next move should be when movement on the sleepy street that Kate's house sat on caught the attention of his peripheral vision. He turned his head and there she was running along at a steady pace. Her hair was in a high pony tail dancing side to side with every stride. She was wearing tight cropped pants that had a million colours splattered all over them and an orange sports bra that left her midriff showing. He shoved his phone in his pocket and adjusted his ray bans. This was it.

Kate slowed down as she approached her house and spotted him. She took a long drink from the bottle of water in her hand and stared him down with a look of annoyance. Seeing all of her exposed skin and the film of sweat that rested on it was making him even more agitated. He was yet again thankful that his eyes were shielded by his shades because he was pretty sure that she wouldn't have liked the way they danced around her body, greedily taking in every inch.

Kate pulled her earbuds out of her ears and stepped in front of him. "You'll be wanting your keys I suppose." Her voice was crisp and cold just like it had been when they first met.

"I'm… sorry… for what I said. I was a mess, drunk, stupid… I didn't mean it. I think you're-"

"Wait here," she interrupted before heading into her house and shutting the door behind her. It was probably a good thing she had interrupted because he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say. What did he think of her? She was pretty, funny, smart but so were a lot of girls. He didn't know exactly what it was about Kate but meeting her was like how he imagined he felt when he had his first taste of chocolate and instantly knew that it would be his favourite thing that he would ever eat in his entire life.

Daryl waited outside of Kate's house for a full forty-five minutes wondering if she was expecting him to do something. He wondered if he should knock. Maybe she had somehow forgotten about him. Or maybe she was making him sweat. He considered leaving and abandoning his truck. But then the door opened and she emerged showered and dressed. She hopped down her front steps with his keys dangling from the end of her index finger. Of course she'd made him wait, he should have known that Miss Uppity wouldn't let him off too easy.

Daryl stepped forward and took his keys from the tip of her finger. "I don't want things to be… weird."

"They won't be," Kate took a step back, her summer dress catching in the breeze and he felt a glimmer of hope before she said, "because there is nothing between us… don't speak to me again."

With that Kate turned and left him standing at the bottom of her stoop with his keys clutched tight in his fist and feeling like he'd taken a punch to the face. A punch to the face probably would have been preferable. He'd ruined everything.

/

Kate let the door slam shut behind her and let out the breath that had caught in her throat. She hated confrontations. Daryl had made her feel like a complete fool. She didn't want to spend another second on him yet she couldn't resist spinning around and pressing her eye to the peephole in the middle of the door to watch him. He was still standing there. Holding his keys tight in his fist and his broad shoulders slightly hunched. She felt a pang of regret but that was quickly snuffed by the memory of him calling her a bitch while she stood in the middle of that god awful bar in front of all his friends.

Daryl turned to walk to his truck and he was out of sight of the peephole. Kate should have just left it. Stopped watching. She didn't even know why she was watching. But she didn't leave it. She ran up the stairs and watched him from her bedroom window.

She watched him opening the flatbed of his truck, pulling off a metal ramp before he turned to the motorcycle that was parked behind the truck. He'd been sitting on the bike when she had spotted him and she had wondered if it was his. It suited him. It was sexy and she hated that she thought that about him after what he had said. He pushed the bike up the ramp onto the back of the truck in a familiar sort of way that made it seem like he had done it many times before. Kate had never been on the back of a motorcycle. The idea of riding one intrigued her. Well, it terrified her but that was what made it exciting.

When he pulled away she let herself fall onto the soft inviting mattress of her bed. That was it. All her plans finished for the morning. Run, eat a piece of fruit, take a shower, get dressed. She stared at the clock and watched it ticking over 10.07, 10.08, 10.09, 10.10. Now what?

Kate jumped out of bed. She didn't need Daryl Dixon or any other man to help her have fun or do anything else. She went downstairs and shoved her phone in her handbag before spraying on some perfume and choosing a pair of sunglasses. It was Sunday and she would do something.

Before Kate headed out of the door she opened the fridge and pulled out the jar of pickles that was sitting in there mocking her. Like she had done several times for that last 8 days she tried the lid. It wouldn't budge. She tapped it hard on the side of the counter since that usually, inexplicably, got a troublesome lid to budge but not this fucking jar. This was war and she wasn't going to let a jar of pickles to defeat her.

Kate set the jar on the counter and grabbed the biggest knife that sat in the knife block. She held it in front of her face before pushing its tip against the palm of her hand to test the sharpness although sharpness didn't necessarily matter this was her only plan and she was rolling with it. Kate drove the knife into the lid of the jar. It bounced off and left behind a small dent. She pressed her little finger into in with an exasperated sigh.

I'm going fucking crazy.

Kate dropped the knife on the counter and ran to the living room to find the biggest hardback book that she could see. She held it tight in her hand as she positioned the tip of the knife into the little dent and wacked the other end with the heavy book. The knife broke through the thin metal lid and the jar went skidding across the counter top until it was teetering on the edge. Success. Now all she had to do was use the knife to pry the metal lid apart until she could pull out a pickle.

Kate held the pickle in between her fingers and felt a small sense of accomplishment. But she didn't even want the pickle, she dropped it back into the vinegar and put the jar back in the fridge. Now she could go out. Now she hadn't been defeated by a jar of pickles.

Now she couldn't stop thinking about Daryl Dixon. She'd asked him not to speak to her but she didn't know if that was making her feel better or worse.

/

Daryl pulled up outside of his father's house to deliver Merles chopper. When he climbed out of his truck he noticed his Daddy sitting on the porch steps hunched over resting his elbows on his knees. The man was getting old. He was looking sunken in and scrawny. Years of drinking and rough living were etched over every line of his face.

Daryl could still remember his father when he was in his prime. Broad and strong with a terrifying grin. He had an unpredictable temper that would blow up at any given moment and when that happened you had better run away or face the belt. He'd mellowed with age, or maybe it was because he was weak now. Daryl should have hated his father but he didn't, though he didn't love him either. He didn't know exactly how he felt. The man was his father and he simply accepted it.

"I'm lookin' for Merle," he said when he rolled the chopper off the back of his truck.

"He went out."

Daryl was about to leave but then he stopped and turned around to look at Will Dixon. Sometimes, like last night, when Daryl lost control he wondered if he would become his father. That was why he could never be interested in a girl like Hailee. A girl that would let him turn into a monster and probably apologise for it too. Just like his Mama. That was why he didn't deserve Kate.

"Ya need some money?" Daryl asked.

"Don't need no charity."

"Ya ain't got no water."

"Goddamn pipes are shot," he kicked the heel of his boot against the step he was sitting on. "Whole fuckin' house is a wreck."

Daryl pocketed Merles keys and rolled up his sleeves. "I'll take a look."

His Daddy's brow furrowed and suddenly he looked even smaller than before. "Ya don't have to."

"I know." Daryl didn't want to leave Merle's keys with his father and he didn't want to have to hunt for his brother to hand them to him, that was how he rationalised him staying to fix his Daddy's pipes. Deep down part of him could never quite move past his childhood, there would always be a little boy waiting for Will Dixon's approval, trying to make him happy no matter how much of a waste of time it was.

Daryl decided that he might as well be here, he had nothing else, no one else. The only spark of something different and exciting that had ever happened to him was now ruined. It was probably for the best anyway. He belonged in this shit life and Kate didn't.

A-N- Thanks to everyone who has favourited and followed. Keep letting me know if you're liking this story!

Jeanf- I'll see what I can do... season 7 is a long way away! After watching the latest episode I'm thinking of picking up my other story and making it all better haha :)