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Chapter Seventeen
(Daryl's POV)
The warehouse is quiet, it's midafternoon, the birds that nested in the rafters this spring are still flying back and forth around the ceiling. Their constant chatter drove him nuts at first, but he's grown used to it now.
Judith loves watching them fly; they inspired her first words happy words in a nightmare world, her ecstatic cries of "Birdy! Birdy!" whenever she sees them tugs at his heart more than he cares to acknowledge.
It's something to celebrate at least.
And at least they shut up at night…
He finds her exactly where he expected to; in her favorite spot.
She's resting on the couch, one leg thrown up over the back, book in her hands. She doesn't notice him come in, too busy pouring over the words in front of her.
He grins, checks the room, no one else is here. Perfect. He places his feet quietly on the floor, walking with quick, even steps till he's just behind her head.
"What's that?"
She shrieks, and jumps off the couch book dropped to the floor, hand over her heart.
"Jesus, Daryl!"
It amuses him that after all this time he can still sneak up on her like that.
She looks down at the dropped book, moves to grab it back but he's faster.
He snatches it off the floor, grabbing her with his free arm, pinning her to his side as she reaches for the book blushing furiously.
He glances at the muscled chest on the cover, eyebrow raised at her. "So, a little light reading?"
"Give it Back!"
He holds it over her head opening the book to the first creased page half-way through the book. "There any pictures in here?" He cranes his head to the side staring at the page.
"Uhng! Daryl! Give it!" She twists against him her perfect ass brushing against him, his body stirs, he tightens his arm around her waist. She's trying half-heartedly to break free. Reaching out to snatch the book from his outstretched hand, small noises of frustration rising from her as he jerks the book towards the ceiling repeatedly just out of her reach...
It reminds him just how fuckin tiny and delicate she is…
He's squinting up at the saucy words printed over his head.
"I don't think that's physically possible." He looks down at her, "Wanna find out?"
He drops the book, brings his hands down to circle her waist. Lifts her up, sets her on the back of the couch, she wraps her legs around his hips in an instantaneous and familiar motion.
"I dunno…I was kinda enjoying that chapter…" She turns her head to glance at the now dropped book, he kisses the exposed side of her neck.
She hums, fingers run up his abs under his shirt.
"When's Rick coming back?" Her grin is wicked, her eyes all mock seriousness.
"Does it matter after last week?"
She snorts in laughter at the thought. Right.
"God…poor Michonne."
He grins against her skin, doesn't want to think about Rick and Michonne though…
"So, about that chapter; to which paragraph were you referring to the implausibility of?"
He grins. Such big words for such a little sexy mouth…Leans forward to whisper in her ear, she's laughing head thrown back hands sliding down his sides.
"You read my book!" She brings one hand up to cover her face, blushing wildly.
He loves that; when he makes her flushes to match her hair.
"I wanted to know why you were spending so much time in the library… "
She stares at him with a gasp, "Oh my god, last night! That's why you..!" She's laughing even harder now, knows where he got that idea from.
It's his turn to blush.
Busted. Not that she was complaining…
Only one way to shut her up now; her lips are soft and yielding under his. His hands wind through her loose hair, pull gently at the weight in his fingers. She leans into him, arms around his back opening her mouth to let him in, arches her pelvis forward into the tent of his trousers.
Her hands are on his belt buckle, pulling it free, deft fingers popping the button loose, sliding her hand inside, cupping him, squeezing.
Jesus. His hands find the hem of her top; pull it up and over her head without protest, he's leaning her back, wrapping his mouth around one breast, swirling his tongue over her nipple making her moan, run her fingers through his hair encouraging his actions.
She pumps one hand up and down his length, other hand now popping the button on her own pants.
"Someone's in a hurry."
She swats his shoulder even as he grins up at her. "Well, it was an Excellent Chapter."
He slides his hands over her sides, down to her pants, lifts her from the couch for a moment, sets her on the floor to pull the pants down her hips.
She's only got them off one leg, already bringing her hands to his shoulders, he lifts her up, knows what she's going to do by instinct now. Loves the way she wraps herself around him, can't resist teasing her.
"I'm not a damn tree woman." He's grinning into her mouth, kissing her back, lifting her to slide against him, pressing into her heat pulling back to catch his breath when he's buried in that welcoming tight embrace that's all her.
"hmmm, I'd make some witty comeback to that but I'm a little distracted right now, so rain check?"
She thinks she's distracted now?
He thrusts into her watching her gasp, head tilt back, her fingers dig into his shoulders.
"How about now?" His tone is mock serious.
"Shut up and do that again."
He does, gets the same pleasing result.
"Yeah?" He's grinning.
"Yes." She rocks her hips against his voice a soft throaty demand. "Now, Daryl."
He pumps into her, setting his tempo to keep her gasping against his throat, fingers digging into his biceps. Every few thrust he slows….pulling back from her with agonizing slowness making her moan, before slamming into her again.
He leans her hips against the back of the couch, to support their weight, drops one hand to circle her clit, feels her muscles tense and flutter around him pulling him deeper. She's moaning his name, doesn't give a damn who hears them; head thrown back as the first waves of release hit her, arching her back into him with a soft sigh.
She blinks up at him mouth twisted into a smug line, voice breathless.
"That was not page 235…"
"Just getting warmed up," She bursts out laughing when he pushes them both over the back of the couch in a tangle of limbs.
"Daryl!"
His eyes snap open, he clears his throat.
Recognizes the voice.
"Hell you Want Glenn?!"
"It's breakfast man, uh" Glenn glances nervously at him. "You okay?"
Fuckin peachy
He's not even near her and now he's having dreams about fucking her in that stupid book room. He can still remember the way she taste, her gasp…shit.
He scrubs a hand over his face, tries to tone down the glare he's shooting at the unsuspecting Asian.
It's not his fault he's got shit for brains timing.
"Yeah, Yeah. Giv'me a minute."
"Alright, I'll be downstairs."
He lays there for a few minutes staring up at the cracked peeling ceiling of the room he's sharing with Glenn, Tyreese, Sasha and the kids, at least he's alone now, for a few minutes at least.
He glares up at one of the old water stains, willing his problem to go away…he's not going to touch himself and think of her.
Not here…
Damn girl. It's a good thing he's not going out in the woods today, the last thing he needs is to see her face right now; he needs to get his shit together.
They need to get the hell out of here.
:: walking dead ::
They've been working most of the day, dinner is coming soon.
The thought of what might be on the table turns his stomach, coats his inside like dirty grease. He hasn't seen any hard evidence that what Fin says is true, but she had no reason to lie, and even if they're not what she thinks after the encounter with Caleb in the woods he has no doubt these people are dangerous.
They need to get out of here, but talking to Glenn or Tyreese has been damn near impossible.
The whole family is doing a great job of keeping them busy; keeping them all separate, it's so casual it comes off as pre-planned and well-coordinated.
"I'm going to grab us some water, you guys mind?" Joel's been with them most of the morning, he's a hard worker, if the circumstances were different Daryl thinks he could get used to the kid.
"You want an apple again Daryl?"
He nods, doesn't look up from the post he's working on; this he knows how to do, even if it's pointless to fix.
They'll either be out of here by tomorrow or dead.
But at least it relaxes his mind to keep his hands busy, stops him from thinking about a certain lithe redhead that keeps occupying his dreams.
Glenn moves closer to him, under the pretense of grabbing another tool.
"What the Hell is going on Daryl?" His voice is low, quick; even though they're at least briefly alone.
"We're leaving. Tonight. Rick and the others are waiting for us. This place isn't what it seems, like Woodbury."
Scratch the surface and evil seeps out.
He glances at Glenn, knows the kid is onboard, even without an explanation. They've known each other long enough that there's no doubt in Glenn's face when he looks at him; just resolve.
"Is Maggie with Rick?" His whisper is tense.
"Should be, sent her with Michonne and Judith straight to him." He can't offer more than that.
Glenn swallows, blinks a few times, grabs the tool mocks tipping his hat to him as Joel returns, "thanks man," they'll pretend he's thanking him for sharing tools.
"No problem."
Daryl turns back to the fence, catching the apple Joel tosses at him.
"Actually, Tyreese, my Mom was wondering if you could help her move something in the kitchen,"
"Sure, 'S no problem" Tyreese drops his tool back in the bucket by Daryl's feet.
"I'll come too," Glenn glances at Daryl as he speaks.
"Oh, you know it's not actually that heavy, My mom she just likes everyone to feel needed around the house. She thinks it boosts moral." He waves Glenn off. "Heck, she'll probably ask you to move the same piece of furniture a week from now back to the original spot."
"It'll take two seconds." Glenn isn't backing down. Joel stares at him for a second then concedes.
"Alright, the more the merrier!" They walk back to the house leaving Daryl alone watching them go.
There's not much he can do other then follow them and that's even more obvious than half pint Glenn offering to help Tyreese move a tiny piece of furniture.
He scans the tree line, not sure what he's looking for exactly Walkers, the Peacock boys or some sign that Fin is out there…
His skin prickling with nervous tension. He pretends to work on the post in front of him, senses keen to every sound around him; especially from the house…he hears nothing.
Five minutes pass.
Then ten.
He can feel the sweat breaking out on his back, his fingers itch to pick up his bow by his foot. Turn back to the house, kick in the damn door…
"How longs' it take to move a damn table."
He can't take it anymore.
Something is wrong.
He picks up his bow, sweeps his eyes around doesn't see any of the Peacocks at all. He needs to keep his posture casual, in case it's nothing; maybe the old lady has them re-arranging the whole damn house.
Maybe she's baking cookies and shit in there. Hell.
He approaches the house, circles the porch, the kids are missing. Silent, no sign of Lizzie, or Molly, the wooden blocks Mikka and Patrick were playing with earlier left abandoned on the wood planks.
"Ah fuck me."
This aint gonna be pretty.
He considers jumping off the porch, vaulting the fence running into the woods. But all that does is save his own skin. He's days from Rick and Michonne; and while Fin might be just inside the tree line; she might also be somewhere else entirely.
He hasn't caught a glimpse of her all day. There's no telling how close; or far away she might be.
He moves toward the kitchen planning to grab one of the guns stored there, intent on finding anyone he can, and getting the hell out of here.
All the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up, his breathing quick; but under control. Now's no time to panic. He pushes open the front door as quiet as he can, the room is empty. Not a single voice to be heard in the house, twenty people on the damn property, half of 'em kids and nobody makes a peep?
This is about to be all kinds of Bad...
He enters the room, visually sweeps the small living room for anybody. Pauses listening for sound, He can hear something, from down the hall…
Fin told him to stay the hell away from that kitchen.
He moves his feet, one in front of the other, silent as possible over the worn hallway rug; trying to remember if any of the boards creaked when he walked down it last night…
He pushes the kitchen door open and finds the mom standing over the kitchen table, butcher paper and a large container labeled 'Salt' spread out before her, she looks up at him when he enters meat cleaver in one hand raised to chop….something…
She doesn't look pleased to see him.
He tries not to glance at the large hunks of unidentifiable meat she's sectioning… maybe it really is pork…
"Sorry Ma'am, I was looking for Glenn?" At least his voice is steady.
She can't see his crossbow around the kitchen door; he could still back away…
Until he hears the unmistakable sound of a shot gun racking behind him in the hall. He turns his head finds both the uncles Ken and Mark standing there. Two of the boys standing behind them…
"I think we need to take a walk boy,"
"You best be getting that thing outta my face."
"A man that don't eat meat, you some kind of fag?"
"I aint no Fag!" He's advancing toward the uncle with a snarl on his face.
"That's enough!" The mom speaks up from behind him before he can do something really stupid like jump them with two gun barrels pointed at his chest.
He can't help Glenn or the kids if his guts are shot out in the front hall….
"Put him downstairs, with the others. I'm tired of playing house."
"You heard her, drop the bow real slow like, and move it," Ken twitches the gun towards the door to the cellar. "Nice and slow like, you try anything and I'll blow your head off. Looking forward to sausage with breakfast anyway."
He's out numbered, out gunned, not enough room to move, no cover…the hell is everyone else?
These are not odds he likes.
He sets his bow down, leans it against the wall casually.
"Ima want that back in good shape."
They force him down the stairs to the cellar. Or what used to be a concrete block root cellar—they've turned it into a holding cell, right under the fucking kitchen…
The kids are all there Molly and Patrick are crying, Lizzie is staring at the wall. Sasha is knelt down by Tyreese and Glenn both laid out unconscious or worse on the floor…
He hopes they're not dead no bow, no knife he doesn't want to stomp his friend's skulls in with his boots to protect the kids…specially not with Tyreese's lil sister watching.
They shove him through to the other side, slam the door, lock it and go back up stairs.
He has no idea what he's supposed to do now.