Just like always: thanks for the reviews! They mean a lot, keep them coming, I love you all.
Okay, so very big chapter now.
First of all, I'mma give you the talk. Connor and Murphy. Talking about that day. I hope I do not disappoint here.
Second of all: this chapter contains a VERY shippy moment this time. So, no go for friendshippers. Having said that, it won't happen til the end of the chapter. Not right in the middle, no, the end of the chapter. So you can skip that. It doesn't really add much to the Murphy storyline, there's no real news, so you won't miss a thing and you don't have to feel offended by my shippy tendencies. I promised my shippy readers, I promised myself, so I put it in. I hope I don't scare you away with that! I'll always give you a fair warning, and it won't slow the baby Smurph storyline down at all. Okay. So, I did warn you. Let's get started with the chapter...
Ressurection
Chapter 26 - Loss
It didn't take too long until they found a decent spot to put up their camp. Or more like - Daryl did. Connor was used to letting his friend do all the survival work, and Murphy was just silently followed them wherever they went. They only had one tent, which they had found in one of the abandoned cars, but no one would really talk about it.
Connor still couldn't keep his eyes off his brother, watching his every step, his every breath, every single little thing he was doing. Murphy still looked rather angry, but the whole hiking part had distracted him a bit. Daryl didn't seem too cheery as well, still being pissed off by Murphy's sheer presence and the fact that the whole immunity business had suddenly disappeared. Connor, much in contrast to the other two, wasn't angry. He was just plain tired and maybe a bit depressed, simply because his brother was so different and because he still didn't know how to handle his relationship with Murphy and Daryl at the same time.
He needed distraction, which was why he volunteered to put up the tent. Daryl just nodded and grabbed his crossbow, growling something about how he was going to go look for firewood. Connor tried to reason with his friend first, reminding him that he was no longer safe from walkers, but the hunter just kept walking with an angry growl, mumbling something about how he didn't need a babysitter and how he had never needed a babysitter before the whole immunity crap anyway. He was too eager to get away from the camp, away from the MacManus twins, away from his anger, so he disappeared down the small hill, deeper inside the woods.
Connor just watched his friend leave for a while, sticks for the tent in his hands, a worried frown crossing his face. He knew exactly what Daryl's behaviour meant. His friend was pulling away. Getting back to how everything had been prior meeting him. Connor felt a stab in his chest, knowing that his friend was only doing that because of Murphy, because he was probably jealous, and he wanted nothing more than cut himself in half, so he could be with both of them. But he was left no other choice. Neither Murphy nor Daryl were giving him one.
So here he was, about to put up a tent, lowering his head and then seeing Murphy walk around. His sibling was already carrying two stones, making it obvious that he was looking for more so they could build a proper campfire. The younger MacManus still hadn't said a single thing, about his plans, what he was doing, or if he liked it here, but at least he was doing something -for- the camp, suggesting that he was slowly accepting his fate with his newfound twin.
Connor started working on the tent. He would look at Murphy every now and then, nervous, upset, but at the same time adoring, as realization slowly hit him. For the first time ever since they had found each other they were actually alone. It wasn't like he liked that Daryl was gone. His friend still mattered very much, but maybe this was exactly what they both needed.
Murphy kept his distance but was searching all around Connor and their new camp, and he was within earshot almost all the time. The older sibling still wouldn't stop looking at his younger half, trying to figure out how to start a conversation without making Murphy hurt even more. And once again he realized how ridiculous the whole situation really was. Back in the old days it had been -so- easy to break the ice with Murphy. He'd start the conversation with a dirty joke, make his twin laugh and they'd laugh and cheer together. Sometimes they hadn't even needed their voices to talk. Eye contact had been enough, their special 'psychic link' had been enough. But everything was gone now.. Destroyed, by the terrible deed. Connor swallowed hard and looked down at the heap of misery that was the tent. Guilt was slowly eating him up, constantly reminding him that it was his fault everything between them was broken.
"Is it true that ye've been at the hospital in Augusta?" he asked, the only topic he could come up with that was relatively neutral and wouldn't give Murphy a chance to snap at him. His sibling looked up from his collecting stones and glared at Connor for a couple of seconds, only to resume work. He wouldn't answer. Connor sighed and tried again after a moment. "How'd you get here in the first place, Murph?" he asked, and heard a loud plop a couple of seconds later. When he turned around he could see that Murphy had dropped all the stones in front of the tent, glaring at Connor through narrowed eyes.
"I thought that me not answering made shit pretty clear between us. Silence usually means that people don't wanna fuckin talk, Connor" he said, eyes still gleaming with nothing but anger. All the brotherly love, the adoration and drunken silliness about Murphy was suddenly gone, reminding Connor once again that he might have his brother back, but not his soul, his spirit, their shared past. Murphy turned his back on him once again, to look for more stones, but Connor had enough. He dropped everything and followed his sibling, desperation growing inside him.
"I already said that I'm so fuckin sorry, Murph. What else do ye want me t'say? Or ta do? Just fuckin tell me because I want me fuckin brother back right the fuck now" he pleaded, surprised how emotional he suddenly got. He tried to reach out and place a hand on the younger MacManus' shoulder, but Murphy once again shrugged him off and turned around.
"Well maybe that ain't enough! Maybe I can't just fuckin forgive ye!" he yelled back and Connor stared at him, surprise and hurt showing in his eyes. The older of the two swallowed hard, feeling both helpless and defeated. Maybe this was really it now. Maybe god had damned it all along. The second he had pulled the trigger. Eternal punishment.
"All right" he said, voice nothing but a whisper, the bad voices in his head returning with such a force that they practically paralyzed him. He knew that he was supposed to fight for Murphy, to beg him for forgiveness, but right now he just couldn't, because deep deep down he kept telling himself that over and over again. For the past year, judging himself, blaming himself. He figured that maybe it was too soon and too foolish to believe Murphy was going to make it easy for him. Murphy had once been the little boy that had made him suffer by not talking to him for three days straight, just because he had stayed with a friend without him one night. Maybe this was just like this, their endless childhood brawls, just that this was a trillion times worse. Murphy was the only one to tell him when they were allowed to talk to each other again. And he was quite surprised when Murphy actually really did it.
Connor had turned his back on him by now, to get back to the tent, when Murphy suddenly yelled at him yet again.
"Why did you just leave me there?" he yelled as loud as he could, making Connor freeze on the spot and then turn around.
Murphy was standing there, eyes wide, face red and chest heaving because he was so furious, so beside himself with rage and hurt.
"I was all on my own, bleeding ta fuckin death and you just left me there. And now yer asking me ta talk to you about random shit and pretend that didn' fuck happen? Stick yer 'sorry' up yer arse, I just wanna know why you'd do something like that!"
"Because I promised you!" Connor yelled back, voice even louder than his brother's.
Now he was breathing just as heavily, anger and frustration filling every fibre of his body. He came closer to Murphy, fully getting engaged in their fight.
"You was lying in my arms, right fucking here in my arms, and you made me fuckin promise that I was gonna shoot you and get out, go on without ye!
I didn't wanna, but -you- forced me inta this, and it nearly fuckin killed me, Murph! I just did what yah asked me ta do!"
Murphy clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, trying his hardest not to start bawling or not to start punching Connor like a madman. He had a hard time remembering much about that day, what had been said and done, he only remembered the struggle, the trying to reach out for Connor and ask him to help him, only to face the muzzle of a gun.
"I was still alive when ye shot me! I was trying ta get t'ye, ta get ye ta help me! And you didn't see it!" he just yelled back, throat already aching because of the volume and intensity of his voice.
"I thought you was dead!" Connor just yelled back, and Murphy was actually surprised that his brother was the first to break the pathetic crying border.
It looked like his older sibling was trying really hard to keep it at bay, sniffing hard and clenching his fists even more, a weird mixture of anger and sadness flashing across his face. "We've both seen it before. How it works. We lost Eunice like tha. And the little girl. You'n I both -knew- that as soon as you get bit you die and turn into those fuckin…things" Connor said, this time quieter, voice croaky and hoarse from all the previous yelling.
"There was blood fuckin…fuckin everywhere, and you was just staring at me saying 'Shoot me, Connor. I'm gonna turn, you gotta do it'. How was I supposed ta know that yer immune, Murph? How? I was sitting next ta you fer hours after that bite. Waiting, praying my lungs out but there was no fuckin answer, no miracle, no solution. Ye wouldn't look at me, answer me, or come back. I was all on my own, in this godfersaken room, with a promise I had ta fuckin keep. So I did it."
He looked at Murphy, longing for forgiveness and understanding, but his younger sibling just stood there, staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Do ye have any idea how hard tha was for me? It fuckin ripped me apart with ye, and I wanted nothing more than die right next ta you but you made me fuckin promise and I.." The older of the two let out a frustrated sigh and then wiped his running nose with an awkward and defeated sniff. "And I'm so fuckin sorry, I truly am, and punish me all ye want, but I thought you'd fuckin know me, Murph. We spent all our lives together. 36 years, and not once did I ever do anything t'hurt ye. I've done everything ta keep ye safe until that day."
"How 'm I sapposed to know that when I can't remember a fucking thing?" Murphy snapped back and pointed at his head, the unmistakable scar.
"I don't remember anything because of this, Connor!"
Connor looked at his sibling in surprise, eyes fixed on the scar, swallowing hard.
"Ye don't remember anything" he said flatly, almost lifelessly.
"Ye don't remember us. Or me" he added, realization fully hitting him.
No wonder Murphy had changed that much. Of course it wasn't a miracle like he'd seen in all his countless movies, where people woke up from terrible injuries and traumas, completely healed, completely fine. But his own brother wasn't like that. The bullet hadn't just scarred his skin and destroyed their link and relationship. It had also destroyed Murphy's spirit. His soul, his memories, everything that had once shaped his personality. It really was -gone-. Because of the bullet he had fired. He swallowed hard, trying not to lose his shit once again.
"Ma? Da?" he tried, but Murphy just looked troubled, frowning, and then just looking angry.
Recognition didn't flash his eyes. There was nothing.
"Doc? Rocco? Rome? McGinty's? Ireland?"
Once again, nothing.
"Hannibal? Cheezo? You don't recognize any of those names? You really don't remember anything at all?"
Murphy still looked angry, and shook his head, clenching his fists even tighter. But then he also looked disappointed and embarrassed.
Connor swallowed yet again, at loss of words, not knowing what to do or how to fix this. He'd screwed this up.
"Well" he said and then turned around to get back to the tent, because he couldn't do this anymore, couldn't see Murphy like that, who really just seemed to be nothing but an angry shell now. A shadow, a ghost, a trace of what had once been. Connor bit his lower lip hard until it almost bleed, trying hard to keep it together although he really wanted nothing more than bawl his eyes out like a baby.
That shit wasn't fair. Their reunion was supposed to be a happy thing. A miracle, the best moment in his life. Murphy wasn't dead. Hoo-fucking-ray. One year of longing for this very moment, one year of praying for it, begging for it. Except that it wasn't like how he'd pictured it. And it humilated him when he realized that part of him wished for the Murphy-hallucinations instead. Not the real one. The real one was just another form of torture in this fucked up world. The real Murphy was like a hot piece of iron, poking his old and healed mental wounds and ripping them wide open yet again. Only that this time it hurt about twice as much, and he wanted it to stop.
He knew that he needed to hear the truth, that he'd been begging for it after all, but it still tore him apart instead of putting him back together.
The truth hurts, Murphy had once told him, the very person who was standing behind him right now and -made- him hurt, no matter how much he deserved it.
"Rope" Murphy suddenly said, making Connor stop walking and thinking.
The older of the two slowly turned around, eyes still watery, lips still a harsh pale line, confusion slowly creeping its way across his face.
"What?"
Murphy just stood there, the anger suddenly vanished. He was shifting awkwardly from one foot to the next, chewing on his fingernails and looking at Connor with that silly look on his face, that almost made him look childish. It seemed like Murphy really wasn't sure if his answer was correct, but he still kept going.
"Think I remember that ye had this weird fuckin thing fer ropes" Murphy said quietly, not really knowing what he was supposed to do with this tiny bit of useless information anyway. Rope. What a silly thing to remember, really. But for some reason, he did remember that one detail about Connor.
A weird sound escaped Connor's mouth and nose right then. It was meant to be a surprised snort, but it wasn't just that. It was also a sob that he couldn't hold back, and at the same time a gentle laugh. It was all at once which just made it sound weird, and the older of the two brothers had to wipe his nose once again. A couple of tears escaped his eyes but he was still chuckling, although it was a quiet and less heartfelt one.
"Aye" he said and took a deep breath, another useless attempt to stop the tears from flowing.
"Never know what yer gonna need it for" he went on, voice strained and Murphy nodded, looking down to the ground like a kid in school that had been caught cheating.
And suddenly Connor could see him again. This simple gesture, but it was unmistakable. This was his brother in front of him. The kid that could be so awkward sometimes, but the kind of awkward that just made him even more adorable. Back in the old days he had spent years teasing Murphy about this, calling him a whiny shy cry baby with all his fits of rage but at the same time shyness, but deep deep down it had made Connor want to eat his twin alive, but not in a sick way like the walkers, certainly not literally, that was just the incredible adoration and protectiveness speaking.
"Can I hold ye, Murph?" he asked gently, sensing that this was pretty much his only chance to do it, now that the ice was getting thinner between them.
Murphy looked up at him right then and there, and it really hurt Connor to see that his twin actually looked a bit scared a terrified.
One minute of just staring at each other, and then the younger of the two gave the tiny nod that his sibling had been longing for the whole time.
Connor crossed the distance between them like it was nothing and wrapped his arms tightly around his sibling, burying his face in his shoulder and then clutching to his shirt as if his life depended on it. He breathed him in, enjoying the scent that was still so familiar, despite the fact that they both obviously needed a shower and clean clothes. But none of that mattered, because Connor got to hold Murphy, his sibling, his brother he had believed to be dead for so long now.
He breathed his scent in once more and then moved his face down Murphy's shoulder, making sure that he was alright there, that he was doing okay. It was a bit awkward, because the younger of the two was way too tense and didn't return the hug, but Connor didn't care. He started planting careful and then desperate kisses on his sibling's shoulder, right where the bite had happened a year ago, which made Murphy even more tense. But Connor wanted to make it alright, to make his twin heal, so he kept going, showering him in attention and affection, everything he hadn't been able to do ever since their parting. He rubbed Murphy's back and almost feared that he could rip his shirt apart, only to grab him by both his shoulders to put some distance between them, so he could look Murphy in the eye and then plant a gentle kiss on the large scar on his forehead as well.
Except that Murphy flinched yet again. He squeezed his eyes shut and almost ducked down, curling himself up a tiny bit and then turning away to get out of the embrace in a hurry. Connor stayed where he was, eyes widened in surprise and with concern.
"Murph?" he asked gently and instinctively tried to reach out. "Are ye…"
"Please don't do that again" Murphy mumbled and then suddenly walked away, back turned on Connor, walking a bit faster to get back to his stones.
Connor stayed where he was, almost still feeling his twin, not really knowing what he was supposed to feel in general. He was beyond happy that he'd gotten the chance to hold Murphy, to try to make it alright between them, but at the same time he was beyond worried and hurt because once again Murphy had decided to pull away, suggesting that they were still far away from doing fine.
But it was a start.
A tiny smile crossed the older MacManus face as he wiped his nose a final time. They had a -lot- of work to do, but he had made it through his worst nightmare.
Talking about -that- day. Connor turned around to get back to the tent, to put it back together in time before Daryl returned and gave him shit for not working.
All three men were sitting around the campfire, awkward silence stretching out between them because no one really wanted to talk, or knew what to talk about anyway. Daryl and Murphy were still glaring at each other across the campfire, trying to stare each other down, and maybe even mentally fighting each other. The hate between them was obvious, radiating from the both of them like toxic green smoke.
Connor was sitting somewhat between them, poking around the fire, moving the burning wood and trying to come up with something he could say to make the whole thing less awkward -and most importantly- less violent. He was still rather excited because of all the things that had happened between him and Murphy just before sunset, but he was also worried and pissed because Daryl hadn't really talked to him ever since the incident on the highway.
"Ye should eat something, Murph" Connor said and tried to offer his twin his squirrel once more, because a) he hated Daryl's squirrels and thought they were disgusting and b) he really wanted Murphy to eat enough. The younger MacManus just huffed and shook his head, only to fix his eyes on his knife yet again, the one he was using to make the end of his stick sharper out of sheer boredom.
"Told ye, I ain't eating that shit" he said, and looked at Daryl, the man who had brought back the squirrels in the first place. He'd gone to get them firewood. That's what he had told Connor, but being the fucking redneck hillbilly he was, the guy obviously had to bring something gross with him. Squirrels. No one in the world could force him to eat anything like that. So he just sat there and kept working, while Daryl continued to eat one of their roasted squirrels, not minding it at all.
Connor sighed and rubbed his thighs because it was getting cold and because the whole thing made him feel even more awkward.
It was so dark by now that they could hardly see a thing, and he supposed that it was pretty late now anyway.
"Cold, isn't it then?" he muttered and looked at both Daryl and Murphy, trying to keep the conversation going, but once again both men just rewarded him with an angry glare. Daryl offered him his poncho about a minute later, which caught Connor completely off guard. The Irishman took it reluctantly and looked at his friend, appreciating the gesture, but just like the many times before Daryl pretended that he didn't exist, simply because he had lowered himself to doing something good for him.
"Maybe the both of ye should go get some sleep? I can do the first watch shift" he suggested and looked and Daryl and then Murphy.
Connor sported Daryl's poncho to emphasize this last statement, that he was ready for a shift out in the open and cold. His friend just snorted.
"No way?"
"There's no way 'm sleepin next to a stinkin fuckin redneck" Murphy said at the same time, which made Daryl glare at him. Connor had only split seconds to decide and stop the two of them from getting into yet another fight, and that was giving him a hard time. He didn't know who he should chose without making the other feel less important.
His first instincts told him to send Murphy to bed. To keep him safe and let him rest so that he would feel okay the next day. It certainly would do him and Daryl some good, because this way they could be alone. But he didn't like that option because he wanted to be with Murphy, wanted to talk to Murphy. Which made the whole thing even more awkward. Because he knew that if he sent Daryl to sleep his friend would take it the wrong way, think that he wanted him out of the way and not with him. Which was not true, but he knew how Daryl ticked and knew that his friend was going to think -exactly- that.
He took a deep breath and decided against his wishes, turning his head to look at Murphy.
"Alright, then you go to bed Murph. 's been a tough day. Ye should rest" he muttered and Murphy raised an eyebrow with a gentle snort.
"Yer the one who screwed my day up" he reminded his brother with an angry frown and then shook his head.
"I ain't going ta bed. 'm fine. Besides, 'm old enough ta fuckin decide what I wanna do, without you having ta tell me what ta fuckin do all the time, just so ye can be alone with yer fuckin redneck" he said stubbornly and then took his pointy stick to poke around the fire angrily. Connor let out a defeated sigh, not really wanting to go full on big brother on Murphy yet. He knew what ever he was going to say or do now would backfire and make Murphy remind him what exactly he had screwed up, and why he didn't have the fucking right to tell him anything. Connor turned his head and then looked at Daryl, who had been watching him the whole time anyway with a slight frown.
"Daryl?" he just said quietly, which made his friend snort as well.
Connor rolled his eyes, at loss what he was supposed to say or do with these two freaking pigheads around him.
Part of him wanted to grab them both and kick their asses into the tent and then sew the thing closed, but he decided not to do anything like that right now.
Maybe later. When he didn't feel so tired and emotionally drained.
Connor moved his healthy hand through his messy hair and then closed his eyes for a second, to give them some rest and calm down.
"Maybe you gotta go instead" he heard Daryl say and opened his eyes again to look at his friend.
"You ain't doin so hot. And yah haven't slept in what now? Two days? Three days?" the hunter muttered and then finished his squirrel so he could wipe his hands on his thighs. "Go crash, ain't no way 'm carrying you around tomorrow just cos you don't even know what day it is anymore. Gotta be able to watch your own ass, leprechaun."
Connor and snorted gently while he looked at his friend and brother with an affectionate smirk.
"What, and leave ye two alone out here the whole night? Five minutes in tha tent, and you'd be at each other's throats, ready ta bash yer thick skulls in without me watching over ye."
Murphy huffed yet again.
"Like t'see 'im try" he muttered and Daryl raised an eyebrow.
"You say something, emo kid?" he asked across the fire, which made Murphy glare at him.
"Stop fuckin callin me emo kid. 'm no fuckin emo ye redneck piece 'a fuckin trash."
"Alright, calm down the two of ye.." Connor muttered, once again at complete loss and getting way too overwhelmed by Murphy and Daryl's behaviour.
"The piece of trash that made this fire and brought yah food, how bout you get off your high horse you little…"
"Daryl!" Connor shouted, louder this time, since he knew that he'd be ignored otherwise. Murphy wouldn't listen to him yet and he didn't want to make things worse with his sibling again, so he counted on his friend here. He even dug his fingers in Daryl's thigh, looking at him intently and then almost pleading him.
"Just leave it be and go rest, aye? 's been a tough day fer all of us and yer right, we gotta be fit fer tomorrow. At least someone. We can't be sitting here on our asses all night and not catch some sleep, and since Murphy won't go and I can't let ye two be on yer own without having ta fear ye murder each other just…" he took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Just.. do this fer me?" he pleaded and Daryl just glared at him.
The hunter could see how exhausted his friend really was, that he was way too tired to be his usual loud and demanding, annoying self. Now he actually really was just pleading him, asking him to do this for him. Daryl gritted his teeth and wanted nothing more than keep fighting with Murphy, to let go of his never ending anger and frustration he felt ever since Merle's death, that had only doubled with the younger MacManus' return. He didn't want to get cast aside like that, shoved into a tent to keep quiet so these two stupid Irishmen could stay together and celebrate their happy family reunion, but there wasn't much he could do about it.
He didn't like seeing Connor like that, and he knew that his friend had a point. There was no way he and Murphy could stay together in any way. Whether it was the tent or outside. Since the stupid kid was too stubborn to just fuck off and leave for the tent instead it -had- to be him. -He- had to give in and act all adult about the situation. He sighed and threw the rest of his squirrel in the fire, giving Murphy yet another angry glare while doing so.
"Fine, have fun with your sister. 's obviously shark week over there" he said to Connor and got up, getting the reaction he had aimed for.
"Fuck ye!" Murphy roared and tried to swing a punch at him across the fire, but Connor held him back.
"Just let it go, Murph!" Connor protested and Daryl ignored the both of them.
So much for Murphy, the saint. The precious little brother Connor had missed so much and wouldn't stop talking about. He'd pictured him to be different, according to Connor's endless talk. But the guy was far from being a saint. Murphy seemed to be the little bratty brother no one ever wanted to have. And now that he thought about it, maybe he was glad that he could go catch some sleep and stop seeing the stupid little asshole.
He soon disappeared inside the tent, leaving the MacManus brothers to whatever they were up to, and deep deep down he felt jealous yet again.
He could hear them talk outside, for a while. Most of the time it was Connor talking about the most random shit, voice lowered and gentle like he'd never really heard him talk before. He tried really hard not to listen because it was stupid and not nice, but for some reason he couldn't stop.
Almost twelve months of being with the Irishman. Nonstop. Hardly ever apart, knowing everything about him and talking to him the most. He'd even known about all the conversations and relationships Connor'd had with the other members of the group because he had always shared them with him. He knew how the Irishman was around Rick. Or Carol. Or Carl and little asskicker. He knew practically everything about the guy by now. His habits, his preferences, what and who he liked and hated.
But this was new. Although Connor had told him almost everything about Murphy there were many things he still didn't know about them, because knowing this was absolutely impossible. There was something more going on between the two of them, something they wouldn't share and from which they excluded him. That speech pattern, that sound of his voice and those special looks were reserved for Murphy and Murphy only, but Daryl still wanted to hear it, see it.
Maybe it was voyeuristic. Maybe it was impolite and forbidden, but he didn't care. Jealousy made people do crazy things, and this certainly was one of those. He wasn't just jealous of Murphy, of all the things he got from Connor. He was also jealous of the twins relationship in general, always had been, and now he was experiencing it first hand.
Merle had loved him, without question. But their family had never been about this sort affection. Countless years Merle and his father had spent telling him that affection and tenderness was pussy bullshit, that it wasn't manly and simply pathetic. But now that he could see it, and hear it, he had to admit that it actually was the toughest thing he'd ever seen. He knew that it took a lot not to care what certain deeds of affection looked like to others, especially when you're a man.
His family had told him that this was weak, but he now thought it as a character trait he really envied. To overcome your 'manliness' and not give a shit because someone simply matters way more than what society or other people thought about you. Which led him to the only possible conclusion. Merle and his father had never talked to him like that, showed affection around him because they hadn't -loved- him enough to not care about how silly they looked while doing that.
Complicated shit that was giving him a headache, so he turned his back on where the campfire was and tried to ignore it. Just his luck. Now he didn't have one but two headshrinkers around, who would turn him into a sissy. Oh how he wanted Merle to be here right now. Not to talk to him like Connor was talking to Murphy. No, he needed his brother here to remind him that he still had a freaking pair of balls attached to him. Daryl let out an angry growl, remembering Merle's countless mocking phrases, trying to remember the Dixon way, not the MacManus way, and maybe he reached between his legs just to make sure.
Nope.
Definitely not a jealous pussy because of these two damn leprechauns out there.
Daryl shook his head and closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. The talking outside stopped after a while, when he was already close to falling asleep. He was starting to daydream and almost-dream, slowly forgetting about his anger and worries when the zipper of the tent suddenly opened, forcing him to wake up with a start and grab his knife. He relaxed a bit when it wasn't a walker or even worse, Murphy. It was just Connor, slowly creeping inside the tent and then crashing down next to him.
Daryl tried to keep his back turned on his friend, but couldn't. He was too curious and confused by what was going on.
Why the hell would the guy even come in here and stay with him when his stupid brother was right out there?
As if Connor could read his mind the Irishman suddenly started talking.
"He said he's gonna walk around the camp. Keep his eyes out on danger" he muttered, sounding both tired but also upset.
Daryl didn't want to talk, not about Murphy or any of this feelings bullshit, but he was way too curious.
He would turn his head first, every now and then, only to give in and turn on his back completely, so he could give Connor a confused frown.
"And yah let 'im?" he asked in disbelief, because that didn't sound like the Connor he knew. Not at all.
"I was trying ta help him fer a while, but…he didn't want me to. He promised he'd be careful and that he wouldn't run away" Connor mumbled and then turned on his back as well, staring at the ceiling with sad, tired eyes.
The truth was less nice. Murphy had made it very clear that he was old enough to do shit on his own. Once again. This Murphy wasn't like his brother at all, the one he'd known all his life. The old Murphy had let him boss him around, plan shit, tell him what to do and he'd been completely fine with it. Almost eager, even. This new Murphy wanted to execute his own plans, live by his own rules. Without him.
But despite everything Connor still trusted his twin and knew him. Maybe he feared it a bit, that Murphy could run away from him and hide somewhere, maybe get back to Savannah, but his sibling had -promised- he wouldn't do that. And they had always kept their promises no matter what, no matter how much they hated them or how much they hurt. And there was a big bonus to it. Connor knew that Murphy couldn't find shit on his own. Whether it was in a city or a forest. His twin had some sort of a sense of direction, but certainly not a good one. He -would- get lost out there on his own, and he knew that Murphy knew this as well. His twin didn't have anything. No car, not much ammo, no supplies, no water, no protection. He -needed- to stay with them no matter what.
So Connor had finally allowed himself to go to sleep.
Although he doubted he was going to get any. He stared at the closed zipper, the closed opening of the tent where he could still see the flames of the abandoned campfire, knowing that Murphy wasn't sitting there but wasn't too far away either.
"He's always been like tha. Couldn't sit still fer shit. He needs ta move. Maybe it's a good thing. He can keep his eyes on a greater area around te camp. And make himself tired so he can go ta sleep later once I'm done with my nap" Connor muttered, not really talking to Daryl but talking to himself, to assure himself that everything was fine, just so he didn't have to get worried sick.
And now that he was lying here, thinking about Murphy walking around their camp it suddenly hit him. Now his brother wasn't just back. With him came all the side effects. His dominant brother instincts. And most importantly - the constant fear of losing Murphy to some freak accident. The fear of really losing Murphy this time. For a second time. It made his guts twist in protest.
Daryl just lay next to his friend, watching him for a while, not really knowing which feeling was more dominant right now. He was more than annoyed that Connor still wouldn't shut up about the guy he hated the most right now, but at the same time he was actually glad and happy that his friend was still with him. Right next to him, just the two of them like back 'in the old times'. When it had just been the two of them.
He was just about to decide that he was more happy than annoyed when Connor started talking about Murphy yet again.
"He doesn't wanna talk ta me" the Irishman admitted, and Daryl tried his hardest not to roll his eyes. The hunter shifted a bit and wouldn't look at his friend anymore. Oh how much he hated himself right now for offering Connor his help once, back on the farm, when he had asked him to talk about his past or what was bugging him. Ever since then the Irishman just wouldn't shut up about it, spamming him with is feelings like the mailbox of a teen magazine.
"Well, he does say something just….short answers. 'm usually the only one talking when we're together" Connor muttered and Daryl snorted, no matter how much he had tried to keep it in.
Oh yeah, if there was someone talking all the time, then it certainly was Connor.
"He doesn't want me t'touch 'im either" the Irishman went on, and that send Daryl over the edge.
"So what, yah gotta get in here and use me as damn substitute yet again? Sorry, leprechaun, but I ain't your freakin puppet" he growled and maybe he was a bit too enthusiastic about his response, because he sounded way too angry and mean. Connor looked at him in surprise, quite taken aback by the harsh response.
"Why are ye so fuckin peeved?"
"I'm just getting sick and tired of all y'all yapping every godamn night. Yah got your stupid bro back, can't you just shut up about the freaking kid for once and let me sleep? I ain't interested in your whiny feelings about your bro, I couldn't care less!" he snapped, finally losing his cool and stopping all the respecting the intense situation his friend found himself in.
"Fuck you! Yer the one who asked my why I let him keep watch!" Connor snapped back and then shoved Daryl hard. "And maybe I am annoying with the whole Murph thing, but yer fuckin annoying with this whole jealousy bullshit of yers!"
"I ain't jealous of this freak!" Daryl snapped back and this time it were the two of them who got involved in yet another fight, although it was a rather lazy and not really violent one. Both men were too tired and exhausted to really fight, so they just rolled around the tent, trying to somehow dominate each other with lazy kicks. Sometimes Connor was on top, sometimes Daryl, and it didn't take long until the vibe changed.
No matter how fucked up it was, both men soon realized that they had both missed this for the past couple of hours ever since Murphy's return. The fighting with each other, the trying to rip each other apart somehow, but also the being close to each other, the being alone with each other without Murphy in the picture. Angry glares soon turned into heated ones that were still angry, just a different kind of angry.
They were in the middle of a particularly nasty scuffle with loads of kicking and kneeing each other in the rips and belly when Connor was the first to break the barrier yet again, somehow capturing Daryl's mouth with his and then not letting go. A new bad habit which neither could really break. Although Daryl eventually gave in and returned the favour they still couldn't stop fighting each other, an occasional kick and grunt interrupting their eager kissing and biting.
Daryl was still on top of Connor, fingers buried in his shirt from the fight. The Irishman certainly didn't like the position he found himself in because he was used to being in charge, but at the same time he knew that any sort of struggle would be useless. Daryl needed to be in charge. No matter what. Or else he would freak out yet again, reminded of his terrible past or god knows what kind of shit made him do that, so Connor reluctantly gave in.
Despite everything that was going on between them right now Daryl still didn't know what he was supposed to feel. He was still angry from the fight. That was true. And he really wanted to keep it going, punch and kick his friend a bit more, yell some more, just to channel his inner pissed asshole. But at the same time he obviously wanted to keep doing this. No matter how awkward it was, no matter how much it actually freaked him out and scared him.
He still didn't want to be like this, didn't want to disappoint and dishonour his family, even worse, screw up his own manliness and the only real friendship he'd ever had in his entire life. But right now far more simple needs of the carnal nature were making themselves known, more and more with each day he spent surrounded by couples, lovers and other relationships between two people whereas he was all alone, without a real family, without a relationship, almost his entire life.
Most of the time he didn't even mind. But then there were days when he was just so angry, so furious and mad, that the anger and wrath turned into actual unchanneled sexual frustration, that he needed to get rid of. Maybe it was just another form of sick violence which certainly meant nothing but pain and physical stress, he didn't care, he didn't want to care, he just gave in to it. He grabbed his friend even tighter, not really leaving him a chance to back off now. He still wasn't sure what it was going to be, a continuation of their fight, maybe another kick or knee in his friend's guts, but then his mind settled on something else.
An abrupt and far less elegant thrust of his hip.
The sloppy kiss stopped and Connor looked at him, rather surprised by this action, actually. Daryl just looked at his friend for a second, trying his hardest not to feel embarrassed by it like a teenager. Although he did feel like some pathetic hormonal teenager right now. He buried his face in his friend's jacket instead, clinging to him tighter and even fisting his hair, grabbing and pulling it way harder than necessary. Another abrupt thrust of his hip against his friend's thigh, and this time it made him gasp rather awkwardly.
It certainly wasn't his first time, but he was far from having much experience. There had only ever been one girl in his life so far, and the whole thing with her had been awkward, far from enjoyable, far too quick and rough. It still had been the proper deal back then, all naked and sweaty, much in contrast to what was happening now. Because now it was freezing and they both were still wearing and their clothes, and Daryl wouldn't have it any other way. Anything else would be too weird, too freaky, maybe even disgusting, he didn't really know about that one.
It was weird anyway, because this was Connor, but if he was honest he didn't even really care anymore. It wasn't like there were hundreds of chicks running around them, with the world gone to shit and all. And even if there were, it wasn't like he'd ever get it on with any of them. No, he was way too awkward, way too damaged for that shit. Although it -needed- to happen. The violence had been some sick alteration of what he could call foreplay. Endless teasing, the endless calling each other names, looking for a reaction, demanding action. He was a man after all. He -needed- to respond to it, get his point across. But still. That sort of thing needed loads of trust, and even with that it was hardly ever going to happen.
The best example would be Carol there, the one woman in his life that he really liked, that he considered a friend, that he wanted to protect and keep around. Even with all this trust and 'special bond' going on between them, even with the whole 'abused by their own family' thing he'd never been able to pick Carol for this. It still wouldn't been too awkward, too scary. And he also didn't want to hurt her. Not hurt a single hair on her head. Or any other woman's head.
But with Connor it was different. For the first time in his life. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, why it had to be his best friend that he chose to 'let go' with. There was more than enough trust and dependency going on between them to make it possible, even more than with Carol. But just that wouldn't have been enough to push him across that invisible edge. No, it was the fact that at the same time he really -didn't- care about Connor in that regard, literally didn't care sometimes if he hurt him or whatever. A small part inside of him still wanted to do it, even after all this time, ever since their 'farm days', to keep his balls like Merle had liked to call it. And it was that exact longing for physical male dominance that made him do it, that longing for skin to skin contact, whether it was with his fists or something entirely different.
So he just did it, trying to no longer ponder on that, to just blend everything out, even Connor himself. He just kept going, his body telling him what to do with each abrupt thrust. The Irishman underneath him seemed to struggle just as much with his thoughts, sometimes trying to push him away but at the same time grabbing him and pulling him closer. It was when Daryl slowly got brave enough and found a steady rhythm when Connor finally knew how to freaking talk again.
"Fuck, Murph's outside fer fuck's sake" he muttered, somewhat being a half-whisper, half-grunt.
Daryl shifted a bit to get a better hold on his friend but still wouldn't look at him, because eye contact was an absolute no go right now. Just like the whole kissing bullshit. That would be way too much, his brain practically yelling all sorts of variations of the word 'nope'. He didn't really want to answer, although he knew that he had to.
"Shut up then and stop being such a fuckin pussy about it" the hunter grunted and kept going, actually a bit offended by the rude interruption and the mention of the name 'Murphy'. He figured this was their only real chance to do this, the kid outside or not, because soon enough Connor and Murphy would get closer again, they would get back to Woodbury, and there was absolutely no way or opportunity he'd ever have the balls to do this again. It was already happening, already a work in progress, so he needed to keep going.
"Well someone's gotta be the pussy t'do this shit" Connor answered and tried to get control of the situation, to finally be the man of the two, be stronger, be in charge, because anything else was just wrong and unacceptable.
"And we both know that yer the fuckin pussy here. All ye need's some fuckin tits" he kept going, trying really hard to flip them over, but it was useless. Daryl had him pinned, he couldn't move his arms at all. All he could do was move his legs, maybe wrap them around Daryl and use them as leverage, but this would be too awkward right now, and frankly, too freaking gay, so he just struggled and wriggled around.
"Who's the one…fuckin crying and mopin about his stupid feelings the whole time" the hunter answered, which made Connor chuckle awkwardly.
Of course they had to keep teasing each other and call each other names, even when they were doing something like this. It wasn't quite fucking around yet, but they had practically broken that barrier anyway now. Like Daryl he struggled just as much, head spinning with far too many thoughts, but also emotions. In this very moment he really needed the physical contact, wanted it, everything he could get. Not just because it had been far too long and no matter how religious he really was, he was a man and his body -did- have needs, but he also because Murphy still wouldn't let him near him. But Murphy was exactly the point here though, once again, why this was wrong, why Daryl needed to freaking stop, why his mind was stronger than his body in this regard.
Daryl had Murphy's face. And that was fucked up. Lying with a man was embarrassing enough, a sin even, but lying with a man that had his brother's face was more than a sin, it was a freaking atrocity. Religion and morality were screaming 'no' at him, every single one of his tattoos making itself known with a strange stinging and pounding. He even started praying for forgiveness, that he kept fucking everything up these days, all the rules, his job, his own moral compass, but he knew that his praying was useless.
The world was fucked anyway. And god had tortured him enough for a life time. He deserved some peace.
And even if he did want the whole thing to stop, it wasn't like he had a real choice here, and that was slightly terrifying and a whole lot embarrassing. It wasn't just enough that he had to be the one on the receiving end, like a freaking girl, he also didn't get a freaking choice. Daryl held him way too tight, pinned even, and although Connor usually -was- able to fight him most of the time, he actually wasn't able to do so right now. He was too tired, too exhausted, too hungry and too emotionally affected by the whole Murphy thing to really put up a fight. And that was a bit sobering, actually. So he did the only thing he really could do in his position, stop it with the teasing, and try to calm his friend down, turn the whole thing into something less angry and violent because no matter what, he actually still wanted it to keep going. Just not like this.
Daryl couldn't really stop thrusting anymore either, now that he was past the point where he cared about anything, his friend, the whole 'not gay' thing, his family, even the potential 'noise' they were making. They were far from the whole porny shit Merle had loved to watch back in the old days, volume turned up to the max and not really caring about him next door, back when he'd just been about 8 years old. Or 9, or whatever, he didn't know anymore. Fact was that there was nothing porny about the whole thing, nothing sexy or romantic, it was just happening. Far less exciting than he had pictured, and typically sloppy, animalistic and inelegant like only two men could achieve to do. There was a part of him that wanted it to sound and be like Merle's porn shit, make the ever so 'precious' and 'important' Murphy hear it outside, just so he could torture him some more and make his blood boil.
But both he and Connor kept awkwardly quiet. And there were even more details to the whole thing that made it different to anything he'd ever seen or heard of. The most important thing - Connor obviously -wasn't- a woman, no matter how hard he tried to imagine it. And since there was no woman underneath him there was no softness, no tenderness. There was no real touch going on. And no real need to be careful and considerate.
And although they wouldn't really speak it out, Daryl was actually the one setting up rules like that with simple gestures. No lip contact. No real skin contact, no real touch, just the simple, mechanical and animalistic deed. Connor would certainly try every now and then, slow him down, turn it into a mutual thing like he was obviously used to from previous encounters with women, but Daryl just wouldn't have any of that. He would flinch, he would tense, struggle and fight his friend off, keep him at bay, pinned, and unable to keep doing any of that, unable to turn it into something affectionate.
It wasn't like he needed it right now, he was close anyway.
Just like back then with that one girl it was too soon, too fast, but once again he forced himself not to care. It was just about him, he tried to keep telling himself, that this was all he could do anyway. Maybe that could come across as rapey, maybe it was, but there was nothing he could do about it. And this part was the honest truth, actually. He didn't want to be selfish about it, but mutuality would mean tenderness, letting people close to him, to his body, to let other people take control over him, let them feel and touch and explore whatever they wanted and this was still a no go. Not after everything his pathetic sick father had done to him.
And the worst part about it was that he knew that he was practically repeating that now. He'd always known that he was going to be like that, act like that, demanding, receiving, but not giving, which had been exactly the reason why he had never gotten close to women. He didn't want to turn into his dad. He didn't want to be selfish, or hurt anyone. But no matter what he did, his friend brought out just that.
He was really close, filled with both sexual desperation but at the same time frustration because it wasn't really working when their day took a downturn. Minutes of completely forgetting that they were no longer by themselves, on the run, away from a group, a city or walkers. Minutes of thinking they were alone in a fucked up world, surrounded by death and blood thirsty monsters but no one to judge him, until realization snapped him out of it and making him stop.
Footsteps.
Very close to the tent.
Then a gentle cough.
Just as abruptly as the whole thing had started, Daryl let go off his friend and almost jumped off of him with what felt the speed of light.
When he turned around he could see the silhouette by the campfire, with the person warming their hands above it and then coughing again.
Murphy.
Just like freaking always.
Getting between them, screwing everything up, making the anger and frustration even worse.
Daryl shifted, still rather fast, pretty eager to get out of the tent.
"Hey, where you fuckin going?" Connor asked, still way too surprised and confused by -everything- that had happened between them and led up to this very moment.
For a second even Daryl really didn't know where he wanted to go, whether he wanted to go out and punch Murphy in the face for being so goddamn annoying, or if he just needed to get away from the awkward shit he'd been doing just less than a minute ago. He came up with the answer which would be helpful during both options: get out and just away from the both of them.
Cool off, think, calm down.
"Gotta take a piss" he just grunted and then left the tent as fast a he could, not even giving Murphy a second glance because he could face absolutely -no one- right now.
Okay, so this was a rather tough chapter. Loads of emotional trauma, and I really hope that I didn't screw this up too much.
Just like the many many times before I have to tell you that this is how I've always pictured them. Maybe it is a bit too tough, maybe a bit too violent and out of character for Daryl, but I want it to be that way. Explore the sheer incredibly trauma that comes with child abuse like Daryl seemed to have experienced it (just look at his scars), which destroys a person on so many levels. Of course their 'first time' can't be all superhot, super steamy and slashy fanfiction kind of kinky. I want to play it like this, how Daryl just kind of has to repeat everything in a tight relationship, like some other mental disorders or addictions seem to run in families, too *coughs* like in mine *coughs*. He's gotta learn first. And that takes time.
It may offend some people, that I make their favourite character like that, but just like I said. I wanna make him like that. Abused kid, who cannot handle emotion and tenderness, and somewhat turns into an abuser himself because this is how he has learned it - physical contact and 'affection' served through violence and roughness. Having said all that, I'm actually working on making Daryl get better there. It's just the whole Merle thing that fucked him over. And then the whole thing with Murphy. But all of this is just temporary, and Connor has enough balls to make it through this shit and not become a victim. And to him there's also a story just like back in Salvation. Of course he'd bee strong and 'man' enough to fight Daryl, punch him in the face and beat him to a bloody pulp, probably kill him for all his abusive tendencies, but trouble is that he kind of -wants- him to do it, as punishment for what's happened to Murphy.
BUT BUT BUT. Don't think all my shit is just about abuse, heart ache and pain and all that shit.
Hey, we have Murphy back, we got an awesome trio, and shit is going to get better soon. I promise.
Okay enough blabla. Shut up Susan.