New chapter! Same as ever: thank you so much for all the reviews. I love them! =)

I know that some of this resembles the Last of Us game story arc, but I gotta be honest with you here and I'm not lying. I've been playing around with this idea here long before I got the chance to play the Last of Us, and I honestly had no idea how close their story was going to follow my idea. Now I feel like a complete dick and I'm sure that some of you people will think "yeah yeah, bullshit, you're just stealing ideas" but I'm honest with you, I'm not stealing.

I just don't wanna spend another bunch of weeks trying to come up with something 'new' when I have all of this stuff all laid out and ready to go and write.
Seriously. See it as Walking Dead/Boondock Saints/Last of Us crossover then. I don't care. I wrote the immunity storyline in Damni months before Last of Us even came out, so there you go.

Friendshippers, attention! There's going to be another couple of 'shippy' things in here, although they're not really that shippy. Just a heads up.
Notes and explanations regarding that section can be found at the end of this chapter.

Resurrection

Chapter 10 - Bob

"Come on! Get a move on!" the old man roared as he made his way through the dark alley, and before Connor or Daryl even got the chance to say something he suddenly jumped through a window to his left. Daryl stopped abruptly to see where the man went, and since Connor was busy looking back to keep an eye on the thugs he ran right into the hunter.

"Fuck!"

"Good lord!" Daryl exclaimed and turned around to face Connor with an angry frown.

"Watch where yah fuckin going!" he said but startled when somebody suddenly grabbed his arm.

"I said get a move on!" the old man repeated and then pulled him inside the building.

Since they could already hear the gang in the surrounding streets Daryl was left no other choice but obey.
He climbed inside and Connor followed about a second later.

"Close the window!" the old man shouted and kept going.

Connor did as he was told and then ran after his friend and the stranger, who was making his way through a dark corridor.
The Irishman noticed the lockers to their left and right, and when he saw all the posters and chairs he finally understood where they were: a school.

"What te fuck is going on out there?" the Irishman asked and walked faster so he could keep up with the old man, who was surprisingly fit for his age.

"We ain't got time to talk right now, sunny. Just keep the fuck goin" the man grunted and then turned to the left to open a heavy fire door.

Daryl and Connor exchanged worried glances, and it was the hunter who reacted.
He grabbed the old man by his shirt and shoved him against the closest wall.

"Listen grandpa, we ain't going nowhere with you until you tell us who the fuck you are and what's going on in this goddamn city."

The old man gave Daryl a look that could kill, and within the blink of an eye he suddenly grabbed the hunter's crook of his arm, pinched hard and then twisted the elbow, which made Daryl yelp in pain in back off because of the sheer surprise. He couldn't believe that an old man could do something like that and not be scared.

"Hey, back te fuck off!" Connor yelled and tried to approach the man, who drew the machete from his holster and placed it right on the Irishman's throat. The blonde craned his neck so the blade wouldn't cut him. Daryl looked like he was going to kill the old man for that, but he wouldn't do anything either so he wouldn't accidentally hurt Connor.

"Listen, I don't need to save your sorry asses. If y'all wanna go out there and get shot to shit by a gang of robbers, then be my fuckin guest" the old snarled and withdrew the machete.

Connor rubbed his neck and wasn't just pissed, he was also quite impressed by the old man's skills. He looked at Daryl, who looked just as surprised. The older of the two friends snorted and then shook his head while raising his hands to show defeat. Maybe he was a bit intimidated and taken off guard by an old man, but it wasn't like anyone needed to know about that later.

"Alright, grandpa. Fuckin chill, alright? We can figure this out" he said, trying to calm the stranger down and maybe apologize for their behaviour.

Daryl shook his head because he still couldn't believe he'd been taken on by a senior citizen. Both friends finally followed the stranger through the fire door, down a flight of stairs and into complete darkness. The old man turned a flashlight on and kept going. Daryl and Connor followed him reluctantly, guns and crossbow drawn just in case. It looked like they were making their way through the cellar and boiler rooms of the former school, and the Irishman wrinkled his nose in disgust. It smelled pretty awful down there and they were ankle-deep in water, although you couldn't even call it water anymore. It was just a weird thick brown fluid that smelled like death, mold and feces.

"You live down here, old man?" Daryl asked after taking a look around the dark corridor and rooms.

Connor turned his head to smirk at his friend because of that remark.
The old man just kept going until they reached another fire door at the end of the corridor.

"Underground tunnel system. It connects the entire campus. Hospitals, research centers, morgues, the whole crap."

Connor snorted.

"Aye. We can smell that."

He said and nudged Daryl, who just shook his head because he didn't think the joke was funny. So Connor kept chuckling to himself.
They came to a halt in front of the fire door and waited for the old man to open it.

"Hold your horses, though. Didcha say hospitals?" Daryl asked and the old man raised an eyebrow.

"Yah deaf, boy? Geez, and I thought you're just dumb"

Connor started giggling, and Daryl narrowed his eyes at him. The Irishman looked back at his friend and shrugged.

"What? I can't help it, he's like te grandda version of you."

"Yeah, and you watch your tongue sunny, that grandpa can still kick your ass all the way back t'Brasstown" he grunted and then opened the door.

Connor and Daryl wanted to step right through, but both let out a surprised gasp when a snapping and growling walker came right at them.

"Jesus!" Connor exclaimed and Daryl tried to aim his crossbow and the undead, but the old man pressed it down.

"Nah ah, we don't want to do that, do we? Everyone say hi to Martie."

Connor frowned in utter disbelief and looked at the walker and then the old man.

"Martie?"

The old man turned his back on them and walked back to enter a room to their left. Both Connor and Daryl looked at each other and then turned their heads to examine the walker again, only to notice that he had a collar around his neck. A collar with the letters 'MARTIE'. The walker tried to get between them to stagger after the old man, and didn't seem too interested in the two friends. Only that the undead would stumble towards Daryl every once in a while, looking right at him with his dead eyes, and getting closer and closer, sniffing. When he wanted to reach out they suddenly heard some metallic buzzing sound. The undead got pulled back and stumbled, the iron chain mercilessly tugging on his rotting neck as he was pulled back through the door and into a room.

"Nice defense mechanism, eh?" the old man asked as he stepped out of the room again and made his way past the two dumfounded friends.

Connor and Daryl followed him after exchanging yet another worried look.

"My corridors, my rules" the old man said and kept walking.

Connor and Daryl stood by the door and looked at the fighting walker to their right who couldn't reach them, but still looked pretty intimidating and dangerous.

"Yah coming or what?" the old man called over his shoulder and both friends followed with a sigh.

"So if all this connects the buildings underground, then there's a good chance yah can take us t'University Hospital, right?" Daryl asked.

The old man suddenly stopped walking and turned around to face the two friends with a snort.

"Univer...pff. Let me guess. 'There is still hope. We're close to finding a vaccine. We offer protection. Food. The cure for mankind'" the man quoted, but neither Connor nor Daryl recognized the words. This made the old man frown, but then he just shrugged it off.

"Yah two obviously don't look like you've heard 'em. Well, good on you, cos all they tell is lies. That goddamn broadcast. Means nothin but trouble that shit" he said and started walking again and Connor rushed after him.

"So it ain't true? There's no one there?"

"Not at University Hospital at least. Or make that, none of those dumbasses are there anymore. All y'all gonna find is those punks yah already met."

Daryl frowned and walked faster as well, to keep up with his friend and the stranger.

"What'd you mean 'not at the hospital at least' and what'd yah mean by 'not anymore'?"

The old man stopped yet again and looked at the two friends.

"Listen here, son. I ain't got no clue where you've been for the past couple of months, but 'm pretty damn sure that you and your girlfriend ain't got no idea what's been going on in the big cities like that shithole here. Those things like Martie? They're the least of your problems here. 't least in Disgusta. It's the people y'all gotta worry about, and that's exactly what's happenin here" he said and opened another door. He didn't go straight ahead but made his way to the left to move along the walls of the corridor.

"I'd watch where I put my foot if I were you" he told Connor, who was just about to walk straight ahead.

This was when the Irishman noticed the hole in the ground, that was covered by only a thin plate.

"Right" the blonde said and followed the old man's path after nudging Daryl's chest to let him know about the trap.

The three men made their way around the hole, and the old man kept talking.

"When everything went t'hell, those guys from GRU were pretty determined to stop it, and all those military freaks and FEMA wimps covered their backs for a pretty long while. Even got rid of most of the geeks in the city. But not everyone joined their forces. Pretty soon there were gangs and looters all over the place, and for a whole couple of months they were busy shooting each other instead of killin geeks. And their goddamn broadcast just made it worse" he told the two friends and started walking normally again, now that there didn't seem to be any more traps around.

"For a moment it actually looked like they found something. This poor kid. Still don't believe it, but apparently, it kinda looked like the kid was immune to this crap."

Connor automatically tensed at the mention of this, and Daryl looked at him as well. The Irishman didn't know why, but suddenly he felt a hint of jealousy. For the past couple of months he'd thought that the whole immunity thing was some sort of cruel curse, and he'd had a pretty hard time getting used to it. But even with all the trouble, pain and confusion it had caused, the immunity had made him feel important and special, like he was really the only one. And now that it looked like he wasn't the only one after all, that maybe he wasn't so special, he was actually surprised when he realized that he was jealous and even disappointed.

"Anyway, that was 'bout two months ago. They were pretty dang close, but the street fights were getting worse and worse. That goddamn gang used their broadcast against 'em. There were whole groups of survivors like you, travelin here just because of that recording, thinkin there's a cure. And that gang kept ambushin them, robbed them blind and kept 'em from coming. Pretty soon they had far more weapons, supplies and gear than that GRU soldier crew because of all those ambushes. During one of those fights, the immune kid managed t'escape. So those little geeky doctors didn't just lose the fight against the looters, they also lost their goddamn hope for a cure."

Connor sighed and looked to his feet.

"Well, maybe ye just gotta keep believin" he muttered, and Daryl just looked at him with a thoughtful expression on his face. The old man snorted.

"Anyway, they stopped broadcasting when they packed their shit and moved. Just like that. Left the city center cos it got too hot here. Many of 'em died anyway. It's just a small crew now, down by the river. Ain't even sure if they're still lookin for their little miracle."

Daryl grabbed his crossbow tighter as he looked around.

"And how'd you fit in the picture then, hm? With all your little traps and your little maze down here? You their tourist guide or something? Augusta's finest freak show?"

The old man chuckled and looked at Connor.

"I like him" he said and the Irishman smirked at his friend.

"I bet. He's got quite the social skills that one."

"Screw you" Daryl automatically answered and Connor grinned even more.

"Touchy touchy."

"I was with the cleaning staff back at the hospital. Locked myself up down here for a bit, and was quite useful for 'em after shit hit the fan and they needed quick escape routes all over the city. Good t'know that you can't just shovel and hide piss and shit down here."

Connor raised an eyebrow at that remark, once again feeling quite disgusted by the smell and general look and even taste of it all.
He'd thought that walkers smelled pretty awful, but this was nothing compared to a dirty and flooded sewer system underneath the city.

"So I guess that makes ye our man then, aye? You know yer way round the city, so you can lead us to this new hideout of theirs, can't ye?"

They reached another door and the old man opened it with a gentle chuckle.

"Trust me, y'all don't wanna get anywhere near those guys either. Looters or GRU staff, don't matter. They're all fucked up" he stated and opened the door for the two friends. He pointed at the stairwell behind the door to let them know that they're supposed to go first. Connor looked at him though, because of that last remark.

"Why'd you think that kid ran away from them? You go in there, they ain't lettin you out. It's like prison, but with needles, scalpels and nerds and shit.
If you're smart, then you get the hell out of this goddamn city."

Connor walked past the man and looked up to get a better view at the stairwell above them.

"Yeah well, old man. Let us do te thinking and deciding."

Daryl walked past the man as well and looked at him while pointing at the stairs.

"This our way t'that river of yours?"

"It ain't, and I ain't gonna take you..."

"Hey, I just said what we do's none of yer fuckin business, alright? Thanks fer saving our ass, but we don't need yer fuckin help if ye won't take us over..." Connor interrupted him, but the old man shoved him.

"Let me finish, paddy, alright?" the old man snapped and stared the Irishman.

"I ain't gonna take you there now. You need a ride? Fine, I'll do anything t'get your asses outta my city. And I ain't doin that for you, I'm doing that for myself and just so I can keep those goddamn looters from taking anymore shit like your toy crossbow and rifle. Those freaks up there are gonna spend the entire afternoon searching every single block for yah, so I ain't gonna put one of my ass cheeks out there anytime soon" he said and then walked past Connor to get up the stairs.

"They know their way around town like I know my way 'round down here. Best chance we get is to wait it out, and move first thing in the morning, just before sunrise when they ain't got too much of a crew out in the streets. Cos right now half the town is after your shit like foxes in a goddamn henhouse. Their fuckin henhouse."

Daryl and Connor looked at each other again, the hunter all sceptical, the Irishman just questioning until the younger of the two friends gave him a gentle nod and sighed in defeat.

"Alright, we got you" Connor said, and then the three of them made their way up the stairs.

"Rule number one, you don't touch anything. Don't even look at it" the old man said as he slammed the door shut behind them.

Connor and Daryl entered the small and dirty apartment and had a look around, while the old man walked over to what had used to be a kitchen, so he could put his bag on the counter and start sorting cans. Both friends started walking to examine the rest of the apartment, and the old man wouldn't keep his eyes off them.

"Rule number two: no lights. No one goes near the windows. They got eyes all over the city. They spot us, you're dead. And it ain't gonna be one of them who kills yah two."

Connor snorted and grabbed one of the old newspapers that the man was storing in a corner. Daryl glared at him with an angry frown, because he was breaking the no touching and looking rule right from the off. The Irishman sighed and dropped the newspaper.

"Yer always this welcoming?" Connor asked and turned around to look at the man, who decided to ignore him and kept sorting his new supplies.

Connor put both his hands on his hips and looked at Daryl with a raised eyebrow, saying something like 'this is going to be fun'. The hunter just shrugged and walked over to the next room to see what was going on in there. He let Connor do the talking, since he knew that his friend was better at that anyway. And he had to admit that the Irishman was kind of right. The old man really was like him, and he knew what that meant. Clash of the titans material. Nothing but trouble. So he decided to ignore the old man just as much.

"Anyway, thanks fer saving our asses. Really. 'm pretty sure those guy would've fucked us up sooner or later" Connor said and approached the kitchen, and the old man still wouldn't give in to some small talk. The Irishman rubbed his nose awkwardly and looked at Daryl once more, who seemed amused by his failed small talk attempts.

"Well. My name's Connor. That guy over there's Daryl. We're from.." he said and then frowned, because after all these months of being in Georgia, he still didn't have a clue where he actually was.

"Coweta county. South of Atlanta. Pretty close to Newnan" Daryl said and Connor nodded.

"Aye. That's where we're from."

The old man snorted and looked at them.

"Atlanta? And yah still decide t'get your ass inside another city? You really are dumb as a brick, aren'tcha?"

"Hey, you better watch your mouth, Gandalf" Daryl snarled but Connor raised his voice.

"Anyway, 'm sure yer name ain't Gandalf. Mind tellin us who's our saviour of the day?"

The old man stared at the Irishman after giving Daryl another angry look.

"Yeah well, Atlanta. My name is 'it ain't none of your goddamn business' from 'mind your own business' town in 'shut up and get in the other room' county."

Connor raised his eyebrows, completely taken aback and speechless because of the man's attitude.

"Bob" he managed to say after a moment and the old man frowned.

"What did you just say?"

"I'm...Imma call ye Bob then. You kinda look like a ..a Bob. With the hair and everything.." Connor said and then mimicked the old man's crazy hair with his right hand above his head.

'Bob' narrowed his eyes at the Irishman and grabbed a can, looking like he contemplated throwing it.

"I mean.. it's a nice haircut, don't..don't get me wrong, Bob" Connor said, his voice strained from fighting a fit of laughter really hard.

"I dig it. Te haircut, I mean" the Irishman went on, just making everything worse, which made Daryl move.

"Connor" he called out and his friend started walking, while moving his hand through his blonde hair.

"I can only hope that I get that kinda..hair when I reach your age. So yeah...aye Bob."

The old man looked like he was just about to explode when Daryl finally managed to grab Connor by the collar of his shirt and pulled him outside the living room and into the bedroom next door. He closed the door behind them and then shook his head.

"Really?" he asked, and Connor finally started laughing.

"Come on, ye can't tell me ye didn't notice te fuckin hair. He..he looks like he put a helmet on and cut all the edges that stuck out. Fuckin Bob" he said and nudged Daryl's chest once more as he kept giggling to himself.

"You're awful" Daryl muttered and turned around, and maybe he didn't just do it to put his crossbow down but to hide the fact that he was smirking as well. He had noticed the funny haircut, too, and although he thought that it was pretty stupid he still had to try really hard not to laugh about the fact that Connor called the man "Bob" because of that. His friend was really ridiculous sometimes. Ridiculous and plain retarded, and he hated to admit that he liked it.

Connor sighed and had a look around the room.

"Geez. He's you, 30 years from now. Praying ta god that I don't have ta see that."

Daryl snorted.

"Like 'm gonna let yah stay for 30 years. You wish."

When he leaned down he suddenly felt a sharp pain on his side, and when he got rid of his wing vest he suddenly noticed the damp spot.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, yer bleeding" Connor said and noticed it just seconds before Daryl saw it himself. He felt his hip in surprise and stared down on himself to check where the blood was coming from, but then Connor was already on him and yanked his shirt up to see what was going on. Both men noticed the cut on the hunter's left hipbone, and it looked like a bullet had grazed his skin and caused him to bleed.

"Why the fuck didn't ye tell me that they managed t'hit yer stupid arse?" Connor exclaimed, instantly back in his motherhen mode like the uber-worried big brother he'd always been.

Daryl growled and moved away from his friend to get away from the touch.

"'s cos I didn't notice" he grunted and then walked over to their bags so he could get some of their health equipment.

He noticed the worried look on his friend's face as he sat down on the bed and snorted.

"Don't shit your pants. It's just a grazin shot."

Connor's joking and good mood was gone from one second to the next, and it was obvious that he didn't like what he saw. It wasn't like Daryl couldn't understand him and his worries, considering how a shot had turned out last time, when the Governor had shot him right in the guts and almost killed him with it.

He got rid of his shirt although he hated to do it with Connor right there, because he still hated it when anyone saw all the countless scars on his body. Then there was the obvious new weird shit he felt whenever Connor was around, but there was no way he was giving in to that and show defeat. He just ignored it, turned his back on his friend as good as he could and then tried to patch himself up, which was pretty hard to do because the wound was hard to reach.

"Pretty sure it was that son of a bitch on the roof that nearly shot your brains outta your melon" he muttered after a moment, and Connor snorted.

"Yeah, I woulda seen him sooner or later. There was no fuckin need ta go all martyr on me and jump me the moment tha fuck decides ta pull the trigger."

Daryl grabbed one of the large bandages they had stolen from doctor Stevens back at Woodbury and drenched it with alcohol just to make sure.

"Yeah, well. Next time I'm just gonna let 'em shoot your dumb head off so I can live in peace" he growled and tried to sound extra tough and grumpy, just to hide the fact that he felt vulnerable and embarrassed because of the whole scenario. It made him feel even more uncomfortable when Connor suddenly walked up to the bed, crouched down in front of him and snatched the bandage from his hands with an angry frown on his face.

"There's nothing fuckin wrong with admitting that ye care about someone, ye know?" he muttered and then pressed the bandage to his friend's grazing shot wound. He did it with more pressure than necessary, knowing that the alcohol would burn like fire on the wound. He got the reaction he wanted, an angry hiss and curse from his friend, who dug the fingers of his right hand in the bed sheet and used his left hand to smack the side of Connor's head.

"That hurt, asshole" he complained and Connor gave him a devilish grin.

"Oh did it, 'm so sorry, I had no idea.."

" I fuckin hate you sometimes" Daryl growled and then looked down on himself to see how the wound was doing.

He noticed the other bandage on his chest from the other bullet wound that was still healing, and he got even more pissed when he noticed that this one looked way too dirty as well. Connor just chuckled because of his friend's remark. He kept cleaning his friend's wound and then put a bandaid on it. He knew that the wound wasn't deep or dangerous, but he knew that it didn't take much to make his friend all dirty, and it didn't matter how superficial a wound was, dirt was always a bad sign and he didn't want Daryl to get infected with something because of that.

"Took us by surprise those fuckers, didn't they?" he muttered and smirked because Daryl wouldn't quit squirming.

"Yeah, well, I think they got what they had coming for 'em" the hunter answered in regards to all the men they had killed during the ambush, which made Connor grin.

"Aye. We did pretty well t'gether. You killing evil assholes, you doing my shit, I kinda like it. We should do that more often."

Daryl snorted.

"I ain't gonna start singing Ave Maria when I shot someone."

Connor chuckled and moved to Daryl's older bandage since he was busy with the whole cleaning and bandaging thing anyway. The hunter didn't like that at all though. He hated it because it hurt, but also because he didn't like the fact how close his friend was, and he loathed the whole getting touched thing anyway. He couldn't wait for this whole thing to be over and decided to look outside the window instead, just so he didn't have to face his friend and let him know how awkward it really was. But the Irishman could feel it and sense it anyway, because the hunter was more than tense and jumpy, but just like his friend he decided to ignore it.

"It's not Ave Maria, it's a fuckin family prayer. And we didn't sing it, we said it."

"Yeah, whatever. It's still stupid."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you,"

Connor smirked, because somehow their conversations would always lead to this. He rubbed Daryl's chest wound with the bandage that was drenched with alcohol, and when he noticed how his friend yanked at the bed sheets yet again he smirked even more.

"Don't be a fuckin baby about it" he said and received a lazy kick to his knee for that.

He chuckled and then took a closer look at the wound.

"Looking good though."

"Me? yeah, don't have to tell me" Daryl grunted to keep a painfilled gasp inside. There was no way he was going to let Connor know that he was in pain and that the wound hurt like a bitch. He wasn't some sort of sissy like the Irishman. Never ever. Although he had to admit that it really was painful.

Connor snorted.

"Won't disagree with ye there" he said which made the hunter raise an eyebrow at him.

Connor chuckled and hit his friend's chest gently.

"Just shitting ye" he said and Daryl nodded.

"Yeah, you better."

"Or am I?" Connor said at the same time and Daryl shoved him back, which made the Irishman laugh.

"Jackass" Daryl growled, because now this was just getting awkward and he hated it.

"No, 'm serious this time though" Connor said after a while.

"That sniper could've fried my brains like nothin and I wouldn't have known" he said and the hunter frowned at him, feeling even more awkward because now that Connor had stopped working on his chest wound he had actually placed his hand right next to his goddamn thigh on the bed.

"So thanks fer saving my ass again" the Irishman went on, which made Daryl even more confused. The younger of the two friends widened his eyes in utter shock when Connor suddenly leaned closer, getting closer and closer until their faces were only inches apart. The hunter flinched really hard and was just about to freak out, but then his friend suddenly let his head drop and started laughing.

"Yer fuckin face, man, priceless" Connor cackled and held his belly because he was laughing so hard.

He loved to fuck with Daryl like that, because it was so easy and because the reactions were always beyond funny and brilliant.

"Like a fuckin rabbit caught in headlights. Shoulda videotaped that shit" Connor laughed and got up, oblivious to the fact that Daryl was just sitting there on the bed, absolutely mortified and scared shitless.

He was far from used to that sort of near and closeness, because whenever someone had come close to him like that before some horrible shit had happened. Back when he'd just been a kid, and it still sent a shiver down his spine and made him panic. And just like back then the sheer panic left him speechless and unable to move. Countless bad memories replayed themselves inside his head from all the bad encounters with his father, abusive encounters. And since he'd sworn to himself that he would never ever let anyone catch him off guard and make him feel like that ever again, something in his mind just snapped and he got up to go after Connor.

The Irishman was still laughing to himself because he thought that he was absolutely hilarious with his cocky behavior, and when he turned his head to look at Daryl he already felt the fist in his face.

"Ow! Jesus, fuck!" he exclaimed and held his jaw in utter shock, eyes widened in disbelief because he couldn't understand why Daryl would do something like that.

"You do that again and I won't just fuckin punch you" the hunter snarled, limbs still buzzing with the sheer shock and terror from this encounter, mind still racing with all the memories, the shame and the hatred.

"It was a fuckin joke, you asshole! Geez, fuck, I think you broke my fuckin jaw!" Connor exclaimed and massaged his pulsating cheek, although he knew that his jaw wasn't broken. Maybe he was exaggerating, but that was nothing compared to Daryl's overreaction.

He tried to throw a punch at his friend just because his jaw freaking hurt, but then Daryl was already gone, with the door slammed shut behind him. Connor just stared at the door in surprise as he kept rubbing his aching jaw. So maybe he'd tried to test the waters a bit, but he couldn't understand why his friend would react like that. So extremely aggressive and violent, which made him just as pissed. It had been a pretty long while since he'd last been close to someone, and maybe he missed that. No matter how fucking wrong and actually disgusting it really was. It wasn't like he wanted to get it on with Daryl or any other man in that regard, thank you very much. But it annoyed the crap out of him how uptight Daryl really was, and it didn't matter if he had been joking or not, because if he was honest, even he didn't know if he'd been trying to joke around or not. Because he couldn't stop thinking about what his friend had told him once, during one of their endless fights over the fact that he had kept calling Daryl Murphy for months.

Or do you just want me t'be your stupid friend and pet your ego just so yah can keep pretending I'm like yah brother, so yah don't have t'waste a thought on the fact that you're fuckin lonely.

So maybe he was lonely. So fucking what. And even if there wasn't any of that crap going on and even if they were just friends, which they were anyway: He did lots of shit without thinking about it because he loved to fuck with people just to annoy them. He couldn't help it. He'd always done this sort of thing with Rocco, Murphy and Romeo, and he didn't see the point in stopping that now. He'd just tried to lift the mood a bit after all, and he didn't get why Murphy and now Daryl never understood his fucking jokes and took them the wrong way.

He rubbed his aching jaw once more and walked over to the window, ignoring rule number two as he opened it, sat down on the window sill and then lit up a smoke.

"Screw ye then" he muttered with the smoke in his mouth, because now he was just huffy.

So, bit of an explanation.

The second part of this chapter was based on several things.

Regarding Connor's behaviour: we all know the scenes where he loves to go all serious on people, only to fuck with them. See the scene with Rocco ("We've got to fuck with him!"), with Murphy ("Stay gold! Pony Boy!"), Romeo (greeting him with a prayer and the gun to his head) and George (doing the roulette thing with him at the bar), and I love playing around with that: He doesn't get when he's going to far, he's always going too far, he's always mean and over the top and won't stop because to him it's just fun. The Bob thing was in regards to the beginning of BDSI I, where he keeps fucking with Rosengurtle.

And the him going all touchy touchy on Daryl and trying that shit out: that's me noticing how he keeps touching Murphy all the time in both movies, and how he keeps motherhenning Murphy multiple times. He doesn't do that with everyone, but since Daryl pretty much equals Murphy for him, he does it anyway.

Regarding Daryl's behaviour: I know that I make him a bit too grumpy, but this is actually a process in this fic, and a direct reaction to his 'feelings'. He's extra grumpy with Connor because he's having a hard time admitting that he cares about him. His reaction: is based on several Norman interviews where he says stuff like:

"They (Carol and Daryl, in my case, Connor and Daryl) are a thing already. They care about each other and there's reasons why they care about each other. (which applies to both Caryl and Connaryl btw). If anybody would make a move out of the 2, it would be Carol (in my case: Connor). I don't think Daryl would be the type of guy that's like 'Hey babe...Get over here...Give me a kiss.' He'd be like 'Get the hell away from me!'" which is exactly what I did in my fic.

Another part of this interview:

"I don't think that Daryl...if he did 'that' his head would explode. If he did 'that' he would do it aggressively...and he would do it out of some weird arms in the air fight...and it'd be aggressive, violent or completely cowardice, or both. [...] I don't know if he's emotionally stable enough to have sex, cuddle, talk in the morning. I don't think he can do it. I think he would do it like an animal."

Hence the recurring aggression towards Connor. Just like I said before, I don't want to make this ship the typical fanfiction shippy with easy and fast relationship development and cuddly cuddly I love you and we're a perfect couple. I want to play around with the fact that Daryl was an abused kid, and that this has really damaged him and won't make it easy for him, and it doesn't matter if he does care about someone or not. Just like Norman said. He can't just do it like that.

As for Connor, I want to play around with the idea that he's lonely, and now that Murphy is gone he's actually seeking near and a 'relationship', because he's never had that and never felt the need for that until now, although there's still absolutely nothing romancy and lovey dovey about it.

Hope that makes sense.