Chapter 4: Hatchback

Daryl pushed the last of the bags to the far end of the trunk. The back seats were down so he could fit everything that could be scavenged from the farmhouse he was parked in front of. There was still plenty of room for gear and extra supplies, even for a person if he got stuck overnight and wanted to spread out for a nap.

He perched himself at the edge of the trunk and took in the landscape surrounding him. The leaves had long since left the trees and an occasional bird would fly overhead in search of a more hospitable habitat. The overgrown road leading to this place appeared as deserted as any other he'd seen in the past couple of months. Who knew if there were any more people lurking in an area this remote but the walkers sure had made themselves scarce. For that he was grateful. Life was miserable enough without having at least a little break from dealing with those assholes.

Winter was around the corner and they were close to being well stocked at the prison if they rationed well and stayed organized. Daryl suspected this was going to be one of the last runs before the snow started. After that, traveling beyond their neck of the woods would be on an emergency basis only.

After the stuffiness and death of the farmhouse and barn he'd raided earlier, the air outside seemed especially cleansing to Daryl. He missed being outdoors regularly; going hunting by himself in the woods by his house or getting lost in the routine of whatever construction work he'd managed to scrounge up. His life hadn't been worth much a couple of years ago but there had been a few things about it that made it tolerable: coming home to a cold beer and some TV, a good game of pool or some time with his own thoughts in the wild.

Being out like this was a stark reminder of how different things were for him now. This time last year, Hershel's farm had just gotten overrun and they'd lost people. It's not like he cared about that place anyway. It had never felt right with so much drama and bullshit going on there. They'd lost Sophia for good there along with Dale and Shane, who'd taken leave of his damn senses from the moment they'd stepped onto that land. After that, his group had been homeless and directionless. Everyone had felt the stress of Lori's pregnancy and the distance growing for Rick and the rest of his family. He couldn't say whether it was better that they'd been forced to move on. The losses at the prison had been hard too, especially his brother's. But at least now there was some stability and a sense of community. He'd never had any of that before and it was starting to grow on him despite how much he wanted to fight that unfamiliar feeling of comfort.

Speaking of things growing on him, his instincts alerted him to the appearance of a new arrival: his lithe, katana wielding traveling partner.

Michonne was doing one last check of the property before they left, searching for anything else useful or for any signs of trouble. They hadn't noticed either in the time they'd been there yet she wanted to be thorough about it. He didn't think it was necessary but he insisted on keeping her in his sight almost the entire time as a precaution. That she could take care of herself was a given; didn't mean he'd ever let down his guard. It was never going to be easy to predict the bullshit problems that could surface in this crazy damn world.

She had a spade and a pick-axe in one had and her katana in the other, blade clean, he noted. Whether the new tools were for farming or killing walkers would get worked out back at the prison.

As she walked towards him, her eyes remained sharp and her pace determined. Beyond their personal relationship, Michonne had always been his favorite person to go on a run with. When she'd straight up asked him that first time they hooked up, he hadn't been lying about preferring her quiet ways. But it was more than that. Wandering out in the world for whatever reason was risky on the best of days. When you didn't have to spend as much energy watching your back or anyone else's, it made getting the job done that much easier. And the woman was fearless with an intensity that was downright scary, even to him.

So if he was going to be outside the prison doing anything that might get him killed, he wanted her covering his ass. He was more than happy to return the favor.

The thought of covering her ass prompted a furtive grin. His appreciation of her shifted to a more superficial level and he took the opportunity to silently scrutinize her. Her coat covered up a lot of her body but that was okay. It wasn't a mystery to him what she looked or felt like underneath. Her stride was confident and careful, the sway to her hips as natural as the determined tilt of her head. The katana in her hand was casually swinging at her side although he knew how quickly she could raise it into a killing position. Her eyes swept the area with a deadly focus. She didn't miss anything with that glare. Yet when she turned her attention to him, the transformation of that steely gaze into an affectionate softness made him catch his breath.

Daryl felt lucky to enjoy this beautiful, sexy image of her without the distraction of a walker attack occupying his attention.

It was hard not to be self-conscious when he compared himself to Michonne with his scars and rough edges. Throughout his life, he'd had girls come on to him but then they'd usually end up being a drunk or a meth head or a cheater. He'd never call any of the women he'd been with a girlfriend; it was just getting with whoever made herself available. After a while of screwing, they'd get pissed off at his distance and his need for space. Or they'd be disgusted by his family or his friends, all of whom were bigger fuck-ups than he was. Point is, the girls never stayed for long.

He was never gonna be good at talking to women but Michonne just shook her head when he'd suggested that one night after dinner. "Maybe, maybe not but half the women in this place would jump you if you gave them a wink. Sometimes it's not what you say but what you do and how you are. And you, Daryl Dixon, are a catch."

He scoffed at that and it echoed in the empty mess hall. It was late and she was due on watch soon. "Yeah, probably 'cause I'm one of the only people in this damn place that can put food on the table while killin' a shit-ton of walkers. Standards have a way of slidin' when you're dealin' with the end 'a the world. I'd rather be on my own than have to babysit somebody just to get some tail."

Michonne cocked her head to the side for a moment and then nodded. "Fair enough. I'm just glad I got to you first." She squeezed his arm briefly and he looked down, embarrassed but amused by her possessiveness. "And the last thing I need is a babysitter." Then she'd dropped the issue with a smirk.

And it was true. Well, not the stuff about other girls trying to get with him because he didn't know nothing of that. But he did like that she was his equal and he was glad to be gotten by her too.

As Michonne got closer to him and the car, he picked up the sound of her usually soft footsteps. With the cold drying out the grass, it wasn't easy to mask the steady crunch of rubber against soil. She approached him with suspicion then shifted her attention to sliding the axe and spade she carried into the trunk. He leaned over to help rearrange some items so she could anchor the tools against the heavier bags already packed tightly against the side—all while continuing to track her with his gaze.

"What are you looking at?" she asked as she sheathed her katana and stood in front of him.

When she turned in his direction, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him between his legs. "Somethin' good, that's for sure." He licked his lips as he eyed her up and down. "All clear?"

The huntress who had approached him receded slightly into the background. She smiled and cupped his face in her hands before putting her arms around his neck. The taut binding of her muscles released as she relaxed into his embrace.

"Yep," she replied.

"Good." He pulled her to him and kissed her, moving his hands from her shoulders to her waist and then down to her backside. He was amused by Michonne's surprise. She usually took the lead when it came to being more aggressive with their intimate contact. For whatever reason, he just couldn't help himself at the moment and he trusted that she wouldn't protest.

Carl hadn't said much to him, just took him in with suspicious eyes on occasion. He could understand it; Michonne was part of his pack and he was protective of her. But one day, he cornered Daryl while they were both helping Carol move some equipment inside from the cold.

"She's the strongest woman I've ever met but she's been hurt badly just like us. If you're gonna play games, she'll kick your ass and you probably know that." Daryl had laughed at the kid who smiled in return. Yes, he was well aware of it. Michonne did not put up with anyone's shit. After a moment, they sobered again and Carl stared him straight in the face when he issued his warning. "I know you like her and that you've been through stuff too. But if you're not gonna step up then just leave her alone."

It felt weird getting a dressing down from a kid—but Carl was no ordinary teenaged boy.

He and Carl had an understanding. They never had to discuss it, they just knew where the other was coming from. They'd gotten along well before his mom had died but Carl appreciated Daryl's affection for his sister, Li'l Asskicker as he had dubbed her. They'd gone out in the woods quite a few times too so Carl could learn about tracking and hunting. Michonne joined them on occasion. They were a formidable trio, focused, quiet (mostly) and so deadly when called upon to make a kill.

It was Michonne that often brought out the kid in him. With the new people from Woodbury, he played the role of the grizzled man-child who'd lost his youth too quickly. The relationship with his father was a complicated push and pull. He felt judged by others in the group who had known him when he was an innocent youth hiding behind his mom or Shane before breaking out on his own; they couldn't handle the person he'd been forced to become. But with Michonne, he reverted back to that boy who wanted guidance and acceptance and to be told what to do. And for Michonne it tapped into that maternal side of her that she kept so guarded for all the hurt it stirred in her. Seeing them together, the threat of walkers and killers and danger faded away into the past. Michonne had that effect on him too.

He understood why Carl didn't want to lose that over any carelessness with her affections.

But Daryl knew he wasn't just fucking around with Michonne for kicks even if neither were putting a label on their interactions. So he's left with stepping up because leaving her alone isn't an option he's interested in.

"Somebody's been working up an appetite." He'd moved his mouth from her lips down to her neck, kissing the exposed skin that her scarf didn't cover.

"Thought you might wanna take a break after all this haulin' and liftin' and scoutin' we just did."

Her gloved fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck poking out from the hat she'd insisted he wear. "What kind of break did you have in mind?"

He gripped her hips and bit his lip with nervousness. "How 'bout you crawl up in here with me and see." Letting go of her, he pushed himself deeper into the car and felt his pulse speed up when she got on her knees to follow after him, no hesitation whatsoever.

Before she could settle on top of him, he lifted up to meet her lips, grasping the back of her neck and maneuvering her within the small confines of the trunk space. When Daryl finally got her underneath him, he straddled her waist and grinned down at her in anticipation as he slowly removed his coat. He often worried when he did something he thought was too forward but she almost always saw him through it; she wanted him to know it was okay to initiate what felt good to him.

Reaching back and up, he closed them into the trunk area. The firm click of the latch cut off the crisp air seeping into the car and locked them into their own private love nest. The gear and supplies packed around them served as convenient insulation.

When Daryl turned back to Michonne, she had unbuttoned her coat as well. She reached for the buttons on his pants next and he crawled back up her body to kiss her again. Having gotten her to play along, Daryl's next task was to get her as naked as possible. Considering the weather and the circumstances, that would probably take some improvising. Even alone in the middle of nowhere, getting naked still sounded too risky in case something snuck up on them.

So he started peeling each layer from her body, not enough to remove anything completely but enough to give him the access he was craving. He pushed her coat aside and unzipped her vest before pulling her shirt from where it was tucked into her pants. Diverting his hands to her waist, he unhooked her belt buckle and worked both closures open before returning to her thick shirt. He released a few buttons at the top, kissing his way from her mouth to her heaving chest. The skin against his lips was still warm despite the chill in the air but she shivered when he pulled the material of her t-shirt and bra aside with his teeth.

It was cold and damp, there was a long journey left ahead of them and they were still vulnerable to walker and human attack alike. Yet in this moment, they were free to be with each other as they wanted.

Carol had warned him to be careful with Michonne, to protect himself. From most anyone else, he would have been pissed at the intrusion into his personal business. But Carol was always different. They'd been through a lot together and were tight—as close as any family either ever had. Through some of the darkest times in their journey with the group, they had been each other's sole support system. She confided in him and he was as straight with her as his comfort levels allowed. He owed her that courtesy.

It's not that Carol didn't like Michonne or vice versa; they got along fine. But there was a disconnect between them that surprised Daryl. They had so much in common, the regrets of marrying men who didn't deserve them, losing a child and becoming stronger for having to learn how to survive under harsh conditions. Maybe they reminded each other too much of regrets and tragedies best left forgotten. And there was also the implied competition for his affections, which were strong for both women in different ways.

"Don't get too close to her unless you're in control," Carol had advised. "I don't want to see you hurt and a woman like that could hurt you something awful." When Daryl tried to protest, Carol put a hand up to stop him. "I'm not saying she'd do it on purpose. It's just there's a whole lot of ways to lose people these days and you know that." Daryl had nodded at her in that way of his when he wasn't sure what she wanted him to say.

It wasn't like that with him and Michonne; there were no labels or definitions. They were just going to be together until it made more sense not to. That he couldn't think of a scenario where he wouldn't want to be with her was beside the point.

And if he were being honest with himself, Carol was probably right: anything that made him feel as good as being with Michonne would hurt like hell once it was gone.

Right now Daryl didn't want to analyze what he had with Michonne; he just wanted to experience her.

For once, they could be together and go at their own pace instead of that hurried frenzy they were used to. Daryl didn't have to restrain himself as he pushed into her in an effort to remain quiet and discrete. He didn't have to silence his guttural response to feeling her against him and then on top of him and then surrounding him. There was no anxiety about whether he was pleasing her. As the daylight fully illuminated her face, he could see it in her reactions to him. It was in the way she moaned his name as she ran her fingers roughly through his hair or her gasps when he'd tease her most sensitive spots. She softly pleaded for more, such a contrast from her usual breathy silence the other times they'd been together.

He never thought anyone would want him like this. But she did and she told him over and over again.

Ramblings of acceptance and appreciation tumbled from his lips as he pulled her to him. He was no poet or scholar and he worried that his stilted words couldn't possibly capture what being together like this meant to him. Eyes closed, she simply gave in to the pleasure of it all as she undulated against him. She wore the same expression reserved for when he managed to say exactly the right thing.

As each passionate minute passed, he allowed himself to enjoy her. And he allowed himself to believe that he was everything she wanted and needed at that moment

Rick had suggested, in so many words, that he hold onto Michonne even if only for a few moments.

They'd been on watch together, nothing much to see and even less to talk about really. Rick had casually asked about Michonne, much to Daryl's annoyance, but that hadn't deterred him from voicing his opinion:

"It doesn't matter if things work out down the road. It won't change those few moments of peace you let yourself enjoy despite the circumstances."

Rick would never be the same after losing Lori the way he did. The situation with Shane was one thing and had certainly done a number on his head. But the fallout of his wife's death coupled with the reality of raising two children constantly weighed on the former leader. Finding a way to connect again with Carl, especially, had changed the way Rick saw their new life.

From jump, Rick had done right by Daryl. They started off on the worst possible footing with Rick responsible for him losing his brother. But they'd gone from that to being practically brothers themselves. Rick relied on him, trusted him not based on who he thought Daryl was but on who he knew Daryl could be. In the process, he gave Daryl a purpose beyond just surviving. Michonne's relationship with Rick had followed a similar path.

And for some reason, Rick saw something in both of them that he believed in. So it made sense to him that Daryl and Michonne would recognize those things in each other and want to explore that connection.

Before he put Daryl out of his misery and dropped the subject, Rick left him with a final thought that had stayed with him for days. "You never know what's around the corner. Regrets are easy to stack up. It's forgiveness that's hard, especially when it's in hindsight. I learned that too late."

The sex between Daryl and Michonne that afternoon was a sensuous affair. Michonne was patient with Daryl's tentative movement, waiting for him to become comfortable before pushing him to another level. The time and space away from the prison emboldened Daryl to experiment with what brought them both the most enjoyment. They would tradeoff control, surrender to the other's touch until the urge to dominate surfaced once more. When they finally found a rhythm, it was slow and grinding. They were both still practically fully clothed but there was an intense, sweaty friction between them. They savored every second.

Later, Daryl regretted not paying more attention when Michonne came apart beneath him but he'd been too overwhelmed by his own approaching fulfillment. All he could remember was the sensation of her everywhere around him and the amazing sounds of her satisfaction that filled the car. When he followed, it was a full minute spent nestled into her neck before he could acknowledge any thought that didn't involve how good she felt beneath him.

Glenn had stopped by his cell one day with a stash of condoms and an unsolicited "welcome to the sex club" talk. In particular, he predicted a moment where something would get triggered in Daryl's brain and nothing would be right until he had his woman in his arms and flat on her back—or however it was that he and Michonne liked it.

"She'll be doing something totally ordinary like cleaning up her cell or loading up supplies or having a conversation with someone. Hell, her dad might be like ten feet away from you." Glenn had worked himself up good to make his urgent point. "You're going to look at her and jumping her bones right then and there is going to make all the sense in the world. Next thing you know, you're on her like a walker with some fresh meat; vicious and predatory and totally uncontrollable."

Daryl had looked at him like he was crazy. The only response he could muster was to laugh at the kid's lack of self-control and remind him that he didn't have to worry about Michonne's daddy being nearby. If he'd lasted this long without sex, the sight of Michonne shooting the breeze around the prison wasn't going to send him into some kind of animal frenzy.

Now he understood. Somehow he didn't mind being wrong about that.

Daryl decided then and there in the back of that car that it had turned into a mighty fine afternoon and the best trip he'd ever been on. It didn't matter that they still had hours to go before nightfall. He was pretty happy about what he'd accomplished: productive run, minimal killing, no psychopaths and an unexpected roll in the sack.

The sun disappeared behind a smattering of clouds, filling the back of the car in shadow. Daryl pushed Michonne's hair away from her face and let his fingers linger at her neck.

"Aint a bad way to end a run." He stroked her cheek with a tenderness that encouraged her smile.

She pushed the grin back quickly though. "You were okay," she added, shrugging casually. She flicked her eyes up to meet his and they both broke out in laughter. It was pretty clear that she'd thought their performance more than okay only a few minutes ago.

Separating from Michonne, he adjusted himself as much as possible in the cramped space but his mind continued to race about the amazing sex he'd just had in the trunk of a car. He wasn't supposed to be with someone like her. She wasn't supposed to think twice about a poor, delinquent like him. Their lives should have never crossed paths. Blame it on bigotry or the class divide or geographical isolation, they had not been meant to be. But then the end of the world happened and he'd been given different choices. And she'd been stripped of who she was save the will to fight and saw something in him that restored parts of her humanity.

Imperfect and tenuous as it was, he'd take it and would keep on taking it as long as it kept working and she was fine giving it to him.

So, yes, he'd just had great sex on a cold autumn afternoon in the back of a car with a formidable, irresistible survivor. His formidable, irresistible survivor. This fucking apocalypse was something else. Daryl grinned at the thought.

Michonne tossed her head his way, now with more control over her quick, shallow breaths. "What's so funny?"

His smile widened at her dubious expression. "I can't believe we just did that in the back of a hatchback. The back of a pickup truck, hell yeah, but a fuckin' hatchback? This shit's embarrassing."

Michonne chuckled next to him and laid a hand across his chest. "I think you'll survive."

"At least I got the right woman with me." He grabbed her hand and kissed it before returning their intertwined fingers to his chest.

"You should take what you can get. There's no way we could have done this on your motorcycle." Daryl huffed in reluctant agreement. "And how do you have sex in the back of a pickup truck? Like in the cab or the actual back part?"

Daryl thought she was making fun of him but when he turned to her, she was wearing a sincere expression of curiosity on her face. "Naw, girl, you just put a blanket down in the back and do your thing."

She winced in distaste. "Isn't that a little uncomfortable."

"Aint heard no complaints." Michonne remained skeptical. "Maybe I'll show you sometime." He was only mildly offended when she openly scoffed at the suggestion. "What about you? Don't tell me you're one of those girls that needs candles and roses or silk sheets and shit."

Michonne pulled at the sparse hair on his chest causing him to flinch and then grin at her annoyance. She brushed a couple of fingers against his skin in silent apology. "Well, I do like a nice, soft bed. Or a couch. I wouldn't turn down a desk or a kitchen table either. And after today, I'd say a hatchback isn't so bad."

Turning so that he could prop himself up over her, Daryl leaned in to kiss her shoulder and then her chin. "You better cut out that kinda talk 'fore you start givin' me ideas." He felt the smile against his lips as he brushed his mouth across hers.

"Since I'm vetoing the pickup truck idea, what's your next choice then?" As he continued to nuzzle into her, she ran her hands up and down his arm while sliding a leg against his.

Daryl paused, presumably to consider his options. "You know what'd be good?" He lowered himself onto her and lay in her embrace, head resting at her chest. He closed his eyes in pleasure when he felt her fingers pass through his hair.

"What would be good, Daryl?" she asked, a hint of humor in her tone.

He positioned himself along her body and took her face in his hands. "Me. You. Shower." He brought his mouth down to hers and felt her open to him as comfortable as any long-term lovers. Hell, given how short and unpredictable life was now, their relationship could probably be considered long-term. Michonne hummed her agreement into him and pressed him harder against her. Pulling away, his lips hovered over hers before he kissed her again lightly. "Long, hot shower."

Michonne grabbed him to bring him back down to her and they made out for a few more minutes until Daryl groaned and rolled off of her once more. Both were breathing quite heavily and even though they knew they had no time for round two, they had yet to completely let go of each other.

"I like it. But I think you're just saying that because you're craving a hot shower." Michonne fingered the sleeve of his shirt, a habit to keep from touching him more intimately.

"Damn right I am. Sure wouldn't mind your kind 'a company though." He grinned in her direction and she returned it. "You know this is exactly what they think we're doin' out here, back at the prison. Usin' a run as an excuse to feel each other up without the whole household underfoot."

Michonne shrugged. "They're at least a little right. And I'm glad not to disappoint." Despite their lack of time, she now rolled on top of him and let her hands and mouth wander in a way that ensured they'd be busy for the next ten minutes or so. Daryl wasn't about to complain.

AN: Thanks again for reading (and Beezneeze, I've got at least 2 more chapters in the works, after that we'll see. I would hate to endure your wrath).

Sorry for the monster chapter. I was actually excited that this started out as my shortest chapter. But I started to get particularly experimental with this one and that stat went out the window. Also, I noticed that Michonne's been sleeping a lot in this series so no more snoozing for her. More soon.