Daryl cursed as he busted his knuckles for what would be the last time for that Saturday. He pretended the failing light was what was driving him in as he packed up his tools, but really it was frustration more than anything.
He couldn't figure out what he was doing still working on this old, rusted out piece of shit truck. He'd been to the parts store twice already for it and it still wasn't running. Pride was really all that he could attribute it to at this point. He had wanted to fix the stupid truck for Carol. He thought it would be something that she'd appreciate. He'd even imagined, when he'd first struck the deal with Hershel, how happy she'd be when he handed her the keys and declared that she didn't need to depend on anybody, especially Shane Walsh, for rides to work anymore.
He'd thought that she would smile at him…not the fake smile that she reserved for the drunken asses that stunk up the Water Ho, but the real smile that made her nose wrinkle and her eyes narrow. The smile where she sometimes bit the tip of her tongue. He'd imagined there'd be more too…but now there wasn't going to be anything.
Daryl started toward his truck, hissing at the sting of his knuckles. He almost didn't notice Hershel crossing the lawn toward him.
"Heading home for the night, son?" Hershel asked. Daryl was snapped out of his thoughts.
"Too dark ta work," he said, trying to hide his frustration.
"You didn't eat tonight. Jo's got some leftovers, if you're hungry. Fried chicken and biscuits, best meal you'll find this time of night," Hershel said, smiling.
Daryl shook his head.
"No thank ya," he said. "I reckon I'ma just head on home."
"Fine," Hershel said. "Daryl, is there anything you might want to talk about? I noticed that you seem to have something on your mind."
Daryl looked at the old man. He was a nice old man with the perfect damn life. He had a wife that cooked him food all the time and smelled like Christmas should smell. He had kids and a farm and his fucking life was everything that every damn sappy movie that Daryl had ever seen was fucking made of. What was he going to tell this old man? I'm sorry that I'm a little pissed off because I'll never have what you have, and even if I did have it I probably wouldn't know what the hell to do with it and I'd end up pissing it away?
Or maybe he could tell the old man how he'd fucked Carol about fifty ways to Sunday in the span of a weekend and then that had been enough for her to realize that he wasn't worth the time? He could throw in the fact that he was really pissed at the moment because he'd damn near stripped all the skin off his knuckles fixing up a truck for her as a thank you for fucking me parting gift.
Daryl chewed at his thumb nervously for a second, trying to swallow down the frustration that had been choking him.
"Ain't got nothin' ta talk about," Daryl said. "I reckon I'll see ya on Monday."
Hershel regarded him a moment. Daryl could tell that the old man wasn't buying his lines, but he really didn't care.
"Your hand looks pretty bad. Why don't you let Jo have a look at it?" Hershel asked, wrinkling his brow a little.
Daryl quickly dropped his eyes to his bloody hand and then looked back at the old man.
"Nah, it's fine," he said. He didn't know how to tell the old man that he didn't want Jo to look at his hand. He didn't want to be anywhere around the two of them. They were too damn happy and that shit pissed him off. He even hated Merle and Andrea right now. They might pretend they hated each other, but they were too fucking happy.
"OK, then," Hershel said. "You don't have to work tomorrow, but if you want to come and work on the truck, that's fine. You know where it is."
"See ya on Monday," Daryl said, turning and reaching his truck without looking back. He slung his tools into the back and got in, driving back toward town.
Daryl pulled into the Water Ho with one thing on his mind. He knew that Merle wasn't there. Andrea wasn't working that night. She was off until Monday night, so Merle would be at home up under her, or out somewhere with her, pretending that he just wasn't in the mood to go to the bar.
Daryl got out and made his way inside, looking around until he spotted Mary Ann chatting up some asshole at a corner table. He walked up to the bar, sitting in his normal spot, and asked Loretta for a bottle of whiskey.
"Tough day?" The woman asked, putting the shot glass and the bottle in front of him.
"Ya could say that," Daryl said. He pulled a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, his attention falling again on Mary Ann.
"Where's Merle? Haven't seen him for a few days," Loretta said, leaning against the bar, her oversized breasts spilling in front of him.
"Prob'ly fuckin' Andrea somewhere," Daryl growled.
Loretta chuckled. She stood up.
"Want to be alone to drown these sorrows?" She asked, watching as he tossed back a shot and poured himself another.
"Kinda like my own fuckin' company, if ya don't mind," Daryl said.
Loretta shook her head a little and reached out, patting him on the shoulder.
"Go easy, boy," she said. "Nothing's worth the headache, no matter how you feel tonight."
"We'll see," Daryl said, puffing at his cigarette.
"OK then," Loretta said. "If you want to talk about it, though, I just so happen to serve advice as often as I serve alcohol, and it doesn't cost a penny more."
Daryl nodded at her and the jolly older woman slinked off to talk to some of the other patrons.
Daryl was pretty well drunk when the bar was finally set to close. He held down his barstool, though, knowing that Loretta would let him stay until the end. Mary Ann had already noticed him and had more than once come by to speak to him. He was certain, especially with the aid of Jack Daniels, that he could crank out enough of the Dixon know how to follow through with this.
Andrea had come home the night before alone. She'd told Merle that Carol had gone off with Shane Walsh, but she hadn't known that Daryl had overheard her. He knew he had no reason to be pissed, but it made his blood boil to think that she'd gone off to fuck Shane. He'd been even angrier, lying awake on his nasty ass mattress, when he'd heard her get home and heard the familiar clink of her keys. She'd gotten what the hell she wanted from him, and she'd apparently gotten what the hell she wanted from Shane. Daryl imagined that now she didn't mind so damn much asking Shane to drive her to work. He was a police officer, after all. She could damn near fuck him in the parking lot of the A and P and no one would bat an eyelash.
And so Daryl had decided that there was only one thing left for him to do. He had to break what Merle had called the curse of the first piece. Merle had been hounding his ass about it since the day that Carol had basically told him to get the hell out of her life. Apparently the only thing you needed to get the first piece out of your head, and that was the second piece. From there it was going to be a cake walk. And right now, Daryl felt like he was in the mood for cake.
When Loretta came around and took his shot glass, declaring that he didn't have to go home, but he couldn't stay there, Daryl finally slid off his stood and nodded at the woman. He somewhat staggered his way out of the bar, deciding to leave the truck there for the night. He'd drank more than he'd intended, but he wanted all the liquid courage he could hold.
Daryl stepped out the door and lit a cigarette, leaning against the side of the brick building. He waited until Mary Ann came out and he whistled at her.
The girl turned her head quickly, looking like she might punch him for whistling, until she saw it was him.
"I didn't know if you'd still be here," Mary Ann said, her voice a little more high pitched than Daryl appreciated.
"Told ya I would fuckin' stay 'til ya got off," Daryl said.
Mary Ann walked over and leaned against him a little, kissing his jaw.
"I hope you'll stay until I get off," she said, lowering her voice a little. "It's awful rude to leave a girl hanging."
Daryl realized that he wasn't entirely sure how to proceed from here. For all the cockiness the alcohol induced in him, he really didn't know what the hell he was doing. He'd only ever done anything with Carol, and then the experience had been different.
As soon as the thought of Carol crossed his mind, though, he growled to himself and decided that hell or high water he was going to do this. He reached his arm around Mary Ann and pulled her to him, still leaning against the brick wall. He kissed her hard.
"Easy, cowboy," Mary Ann growled when she pulled away. "Where are we going?"
Daryl realized their options were limited. He wasn't fit to drive and he wasn't sure that he could perform crammed in either of the seats of the vehicles. He knew that people did it, but he wasn't exactly sure how well it worked, and he didn't exactly relish the thought of Loretta emerging from the building sometime later and seeing his ass shining out from a windshield.
"My apartment ain't two blocks from here," Daryl said. "We'll go there."
Mary Ann didn't turn down the offer, so Daryl walked with her, concentrating hard on making himself appear less drunk than he was. They made their way up the steps of the apartment building noisily, but Daryl didn't try to stifle the noise in any way. For some reason he wanted Carol to hear them. He hoped she was home and he hoped that it least raised her shackles a little to hear him coming home with Mary Ann Walsh.
"This here's my apartment, Mary Ann," he said, being far louder than necessary. Mary Ann giggled at him, apparently contributing his extra bravado to his intoxication. He pushed the door open and realized he should be ashamed of his apartment, but he really didn't give two shits. This would happen the way that Merle said it should happen. It would happen the way it always had until Merle had become a pansy ass and started shacking up with Andrea. Mary Ann would be out the door by morning, and she wouldn't come back unless Daryl decided she could. He was calling all the fucking shots.
Daryl led Mary Ann into the apartment, turning on the lights and leaving them on. He heard knocking around and Merle's bedroom door opened.
"Daryl, that you?" Andrea's voice called out.
"Fuckin' go ta sleep!" Daryl called. He didn't have the patience to deal with Andrea right now. He heard the door shut and Mary Ann giggled again.
"Was that Andrea?" She asked.
Daryl grunted, not really responding to the question. He pushed her back into his room, bringing his lips crashing against hers again. She pushed him away a little.
"Is this your room?" She asked, looking around.
Daryl reached out, his hands going for the bottom of her tank top. He pulled it over her head and she let him. When it was off, he reached around fumbling for her bra and wondered how the hell women got in and out of those contraptions so damn easily. Mary Ann, apparently noticing his struggle, reached around and unsnapped it, dropping it to the floor.
Daryl looked at her breasts. They were large and perky, but he didn't really care for them. He grasped them though, squeezing them, trying to remember all the things that had made Carol moan and simultaneously hating himself for even having to think of her, but it was the only way he knew to do this shit so it was all the inspiration that he had to draw from.
Mary Ann didn't moan, though, so he left her breasts in peace and shucked his own shirt without giving much thought to it. He went for the button on her shorts and she smiled at him, shimmying out of them quickly and grasping his own button. He took over and got out of his as quickly as possible too. He was thankful that he'd followed Merle's suggestion and bought a box of condoms to keep there for whenever he decided to get over his obsession with Carol.
He rummaged in his drawer for a moment and came out with one. By the time he turned around, Mary Ann was out of her panties and had pulled the quilt down, covering his mattress. She was laying on it, her legs slightly spread.
His eyes drifted down to the junction between her legs and he frowned a little at the soft black curls there. He told himself, though, that they were all the same, no matter what the hell they looked like. Just like Merle had told him. There wasn't one that was any damn better than the other.
Daryl realized he wasn't hard yet, and he was frustrated by it. He was surprised, then when Mary Ann wrapped her mouth around him, sucking at him. He closed his eyes, and cursed himself a moment, when it wasn't Mary Ann that he imagined looking up from taking him into her mouth. He felt himself go hard and he pushed Mary Ann back on the bed, rolling on the condom as quickly as he could.
He realized that he didn't really want to do this and he wondered if that's always how it was with the second piece. It was like yanking off a bandaid, maybe. He just had to fucking do it, but once it was done that was all there was to it.
Daryl grabbed the girl's hips and buried himself in her, keeping his eyes closed as the only way that he knew to make it through the encounter. She leaned into him, sucking at his nipple. Her hands slid down his back and he flinched a little at the thought of her fingertips running over the jagged scars.
And nearly as quickly as it had begun, Daryl felt himself nearing his release. He fell forward a moment, panting, and opened his eyes. For a fleeting moment he expected Carol's bright blue eyes to be staring back at him, that half smile on her face, but instead he was met by Mary Ann's brown eyes, and she wore a scowl instead of a smile.
"What the hell was that?" She asked as he pulled himself away from her.
"Fuck you mean?" He growled.
Mary Ann raised an eyebrow at him.
"Was that your first fuck?" She asked.
Daryl got angry. He didn't need criticism from this little bitch. He was only fucking her because he had to, because that's what the hell Merle told him to do. He no more wanted to fuck Mary Ann Walsh than he wanted to fuck Andrea.
"Shut the fuck up," Daryl commanded. "I've fucked plenty a' times. Get the hell outta her if ya don't like it."
Mary Ann surprised him by rolling off the bed and quickly dressing.
"Gladly," she said. "I guess I should have known before that's how you were, but I know for sure now." She seemed angry as she quickly dressed. "You know, that one time per woman works for some people, but it doesn't work for everyone. You might want to hang out with someone to at least get to the second round, if you can find someone desperate enough to try that shit again. Your technique could use a lot of work."
"Fuck you!" Daryl spat.
"Fine, as long as it's not you doing it," Mary Ann said. She stood there a moment staring at Daryl. He sat on his bed and dropped the used condom on the floor. He was pissed at her and he was pissed at the situation. He didn't know when this shit was supposed to make him feel better, but so far it hadn't. "I won't tell anyone about this if you don't," Mary Ann said.
"Fine with me," Daryl growled.
Mary Ann turned then and let herself out of his bedroom. Daryl wrestled his shorts on and made his way to the kitchen. He watched as Mary Ann left without saying anything, slamming the door behind him. He growled and went to the cabinet, fishing out a bottle of whisky and drinking straight from it.
Andrea shuffled into the kitchen a moment later wearing nothing more, it seemed, than one of Merle's button down work shirts.
"Rough night?" She asked, raking her hand through her hair.
"Fuck off," Daryl growled.
Andrea nodded at him.
"When you start puking," she said, "aim for the toilet. I'm getting sick of mopping that shit up off the floor."
She turned and shuffled back toward the bedroom from which she'd just emerged.
Daryl ran his hands through his hair and tipped the bottle back again, defiantly thinking to himself that he'd puke any damn where he pleased as long as he paid his part of the rent. He didn't any of them. He didn't need Mary Ann Walsh, he didn't need Andrea and her damn mouth…hell, he didn't need Merle, and he sure as shit didn't need fucking Carol.