Chapter 31
Home again
They'd run low on gas when they had to detour around a herd and ended up going farther into the suburbs of town than they'd expected. The sky started to darken and the wind picked up.
"We've gotta get inside." Emma said. "Storm's coming and it looks like it will be a bad one."
"You know a place?" Daryl's eye was on the gas gauge. It had been running on "E" for too long.
"Yeah, turn here." She pointed towards a subdivision of wartime houses. They pulled in as their car shuddered to a stop. Grabbing their packs they headed out into the swirling winds, darting between the houses to avoid walkers.
"This way." Emma ran down an alley behind the homes, Daryl following on her heels. Finding the one she was looking for she pushed open a gate and waved him into the backyard of a small white house. She shut the gate behind him and used a rake to jam it closed behind them.
The tiny yard had been pretty once. It had been landscaped with low-maintenance in mind. There was a wooden deck and a pebbled walkway that curved around patches of drought resistant grasses. Dead leaves choked what had once been a pond and a Japanese maple displayed evidence of damage from the ice storm.
Archer walked up to a lantern next to the pond. Lifting it she retrieved a key. "Come on, we need to get inside before the storm hits."
"Wait." Daryl pushed past her to knock on the house door. "Need ta check for walkers in there."
"No one lives there."
Her confidence caused Daryl to raise an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"
She nudged him aside and entered the house. The door led into a small white and yellow kitchen, with a retro-looking table and chairs. An iPad perched on the edge of the table on top of a brown leather day planner. Archer tossed the key into a glass bowl containing spare change, hair elastics and miscellaneous mail.
Crossbow drawn, Daryl moved past her to sweep the main floor. Archer followed him into the living room. The dark hardwood floor creaked under her boots. She passed the carefully selected grey sofa with is yellow throw cushions, the antique wooden rocking chair and the stuffed brown leather ottoman with barely a glance. Her eyes were on a photograph sitting on the wooden mantle.
"'Was your place, wasn't it?" Daryl stood behind her.
She nodded, picking up the family photograph taken at her brother's wedding. Her father's arms were wrapped around her brother's shoulder and his wife's waist. Emma sat in the foreground. The Archer family as they were before cancer took her Mother. A tear slid down Emma's cheek.
"That your family?" Daryl asked.
"Yeah." She wiped away the tear on her face and tucked the frame into her knapsack.
"You look like your Dad." Daryl said.
"So I've been told." She shook herself out of her reverie. "The windows at the front are high and small. If we draw the curtains and put a sheet up over the door the biters shouldn't notice us. The basement windows are barred, so they can't get in that way. I think the backyard fence ought to keep our exit safe."
"Good a place as any to hole up." Daryl shifted his crossbow onto his back and began pulling the drapes closed.
"I'll get the drapes upstairs." She made her way to the second floor.
Here the color scheme of soft grays continued, punctuated by touches of apricot and peach. She found her bedroom exactly as she'd left it, her make-up sprawling across her dressing table. A suit destined for the dry-cleaners still hanging on the back of her bedroom door. Her bed unmade, her pajamas in a crumpled heap by her bathroom door. She spotted a pink and black lace bra on the chaise lounge.
Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she tidied up before pulling the curtains. She'd only just finished when Daryl came up the stairs.
"Helped myself to the panty." Daryl stammered, passing her a box of cookies. "I mean pantry."
She smiled. "It's okay. I think I have some more stuff in the basement too. We should clean the place out before we head back."
Daryl looked around the room, his eyes coming to rest on the expansive bed with the suede tufted headboard. "Damn."
"It's so unreal." Emma sighed. "It's like I never left."
"You didn't." Daryl disappeared into the master bathroom "Wooo hoo, woman. You bathe in that big ol' tub by yerself?"
Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head. Never in a million years had she thought that she'd have Daryl Dixon in her boudoir. Her old and new life had collided. She frowned at the incongruity of it all.
"I'm going down to the basement for supplies." Heading down to the basement she resisted the urge to remove her riding boots. It didn't really matter if she trekked dirt all over the house. She wasn't staying.
After rummaging through the cantina, Emma decided dinner would be canned tuna, potato chips, and Perrier. She snagged a pair of wine glasses and some ice wine for good measure. She heard Daryl emit a low whistle on her way up the stairs.
"What?" She said, rounding the corner, expecting Daryl to be in her bedroom. He wasn't, he was in the room across the hall. "Oh."
Daryl ran his fingers along the shoe shelf in her walk in closet. "You weren't kiddin'." He was eyeing the stiletto heels lined up neatly along the shelf.
"You must think I'm ridiculous." She'd converted the second bedroom in the small house into a closet. It had been designed to display her clothing and put everything she owned at her fingertips. It wasn't a huge collection. Emma chose only good quality pieces that fit her well and worked with her lifestyle. She had been proud of her it, but with Daryl standing there it all seemed so frivolous.
"Thought you mighta been a girlie girl." Daryl smirked at her, pulling a navy cocktail dress out and running his hand down the satin hemline. "Never pegged ya for a fancy one."
"I get it. I'm a poser." She tossed the bag of chips at his head, he caught it easily. "C'mon I've got dinner."
She turned and headed back to the bedroom stopping briefly to tug off her boots, leaving them in the landing. Daryl followed.
"We should stay upstairs." She advised. "Less likely we'll get spotted." Daryl nodded in agreement. They ate on the floor of her bedroom, leaning back on the chaise at the foot of the bed. She could hear the rain beating down on the roof as the storm rolled in.
"You lived here alone?" Daryl asked opening the bag of chips.
"I rented out the second bedroom to University students when I first bought." Catching a dark look in his eye, she elbowed him "Don't worry, just girls."
"Good." He bit down on a chip and a surprised look went over his face. "Ketchup?"
"I cannot believe you've never had Ketchup chips." She rolled her eyes while she popped open a bottle of Perrier and poured out two glasses. "When I'd saved up enough I renovated the whole house. Then I got a promotion and I was able to get it decorated properly."
"Why get rid of th'other bedroom?"
She shrugged. "I never really had boyfriends so I just figured I'd live on my own." She looked around. "This house was perfect for one. I didn't need more."
He nodded.
Thunder crashed, causing her to jump.
"Yer jumpy t'night. Don't like thunder?"
"It's just…The storms, they get the Dead all riled up."
" S'more than that." Daryl spoke quietly. "Yer like a mouse in a cat-house…"
She looked down into her glass and swirled the fizzy water around. "Michael and I got caught in a cabin in the early days. The storm brought the dead down on us. The horses were inside with us, they wouldn't settle down. The dead were clawing at the walls…."
"Horses panic?"
Emma nodded. "I had to go out, into the storm. It was the first time I'd faced them and not ran. The first time I stood my ground."
"How many?"
"At the start, four I think." She tried to keep her voice from shaking as another thunderclap punctuated the air. "More came. It didn't let up until the storm stopped." She shrugged. "In hindsight they were spread out, it wasn't that bad… not really… but.."
"Seemed worse at the time." Daryl opened up the bottle of ice wine and filled her glass. He took a swig out of the bottle and made a face. "The fuck is this?"
She laughed. "Ice wine. You're not really supposed to swig it. You're certainly not supposed to drink a whole glass of it."
"Not gonna." Daryl put the bottle down. "Yer house. You drink. I'll watch."
"You'll watch?" She cast him a sideways glance.
"Yep."
"I'll drink to that." She raised her glass and drank the sweet alcohol, letting it warm in her mouth before swallowing it.
Daryl laughed. "Girlie girl with 'er fancy wine."
"Well, it won't strip the paint off the walls like your bourbon, but it will still get you nice and toasted."
This time Daryl raised an eyebrow. Hopping up, he moved over to the bed. "Toasted? That a fancy word for drunk-ass?"
"Secret's out, Daryl." She stood up and curtsied. "Whatever will you do with me?"
He rolled onto her bed and buried his face in the pillow. "Mmmm.. Dunno… I get the bed, you get the bench."
"Hey." She grabbed a pillow from the chaise and tossed it at his back. Her arms felt funny, the alcohol was hitting her fast. "The gentleman is supposed to give up the bed for the lady."
"Ain't no gentlemen." He grumbled, rolling onto his back and tucking his hands behind his head.
A flash of lightning made her jump, nearly spilling the wine glass. She swigged it, not wanting to waste a drop of the rare treat.
"'S'arright." Daryl's dark eyes watched her.
She crossed the hall into the other room. Peeking out the window she surveyed the street below. There were a few walkers scurrying around, but none paid attention to her little two-story house.
"Chasin' the storm." Daryl had come in behind her. He rested a hand on her hip. "Nothin' ta worry 'bout."
"I think I need more wine." She let him lead her away from the window, back into the bedroom.
"Sure thing." He refilled her glass and returned his attention to the ketchup chips. "These ain't half bad."
"Told ya." She yawned. It had been a long day, and the wine was making her fuzzy and warm.
"Ya also said there'd be rye."
She shrugged. "Rye and I had a long conversation in University."
"Oh?" Daryl sat down on the chaise. "How'd that go?"
"We decided to part ways."
He chuckled "Got sick didn't'cha?"
She sat down next to him. "Oh yeah." She finished her second glass and stared at the empty crystal. Hey, she thought, I think this is the water glass…
"Tell ya what." Daryl interrupted her thoughts. "I'll let ya share the bed with me if ya wear something from that top drawer." He pointed to the tall elegant dresser in the corner of her bedroom.
Her face reddened. "You snooped." He'd found her lingerie.
"Those 'r my terms." Daryl's eyes flashed at her. "Take it or leave it."
"That doesn't sound right." She was drunk now, for sure. Lack of alcohol had turned her into a lightweight. "I don't see how there's a downside to you either way."
"You think I want yer fancy ass rubbin' off on me?" Daryl's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "I don't wanna turn sissy."
"Well then," She crossed the room to the dresser and pulled it open. "We'll have to make damn sure my ass doesn't rub off on you."
Daryl chuckled. "Damn straight."
She surveyed her lingerie drawer with a discerning eye. The pink one? The black one? Oh god, the red one, she'd forgotten she owned that one. "Did you have a particular item in mind?"
"'Sup to you."
In the end she settled on a lacy gunmetal grey number and headed to the bathroom to change.
She was pleasantly surprised to find the water still ran in the pipes, although the first spurt came out a little dirty, it did run clean. As she washed up with the cold water, she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror.
Her face was thinner than it used to be, her cheekbones were more pronounced. Her hair, once precisely kept at a length just past her shoulders and religiously flat ironed was now a wavy mess that fell to her hips. Her skin was tinged gold from summers spent working in the sun at the fort. Her arms and legs had muscles that they'd never had. The image in the mirror was harder than the one in the photograph she'd snatched off the mantle.
"Takin' yer time?" Daryl's voice snapped her back to reality.
"Just a minute!" Grabbing a brush she tried to tame her mane. Emma decided to add a little eyeliner and lip gloss too.
Emboldened by the alcohol, she posed suggestively in the bathroom doorway. "Do you like?" She asked in a husky voice.
"Niiice." The look in Daryl's eyes made her forget that the lingerie was a little too big on her. "Real perty."
"So I can sleep in the bed then?"
Daryl smiled and slowly licked the red chip seasoning off his fingers. He sucked each finger all the way to the knuckle and withdrew it slowly. "You sure you c'n control yerself?"
She wasn't so sure.
He chuckled at the lust he saw in her eyes. She at least had the decency to blush when she crawled into bed. Daryl headed off with his crossbow to re-check doors and windows downstairs, leaving her to stare at the familiar ceiling above her bed.
Thunder again, followed closely by a lightning strike. She pulled the blankets over her eyes and tried not to think about the storm raging outside. The rain was pounding on the roof.
She felt the bed move as Daryl climbed under the covers. "Can't hide under th'sheets all night." He pulled her into his arms. "Hey." He noticed her shaking slightly. " S'okay. All's quiet outside. Not gonna be trouble t'night."
"It's just…" She sighed. "I miss the walls. I just feel so much safer behind them."
Daryl put his head on top of hers. "Got walls here."
"It's not.."
"I know." Daryl interrupted her. "Back then it was just you 'n you still went out 'n kicked ass. Tonight I got yer back."
"I know."
"Tell me, how come a girl's got so much fancy underwear when she don't have no boyfriend ta see it?" Daryl changed the subject.
"It was for me." She smiled. "Like my own little secret."
"How'd you mean?"
"It's like this. I'd get dressed for something, like work or going out dancing or even to the barn. Everyone can see what I'm wearing, but what's underneath? Well, they can't see that. They don't know that I'm wearing black lace under my riding clothes. They can't see the red satin under my suit. That's just my little secret." She felt his hardening manhood press against her hip. "Hey, I thought you didn't want my fancy ass rubbing off on you."
Daryl leaned over her. "Maybe I like your fancy ass." He leaned in to kiss her. "Maybe I like knowing your slutty secrets."
"You think this is slutty?" She said in mock surprise. "I doubt streetwalkers wear Agent Provocateur."
"Don't know whatcher talkin' 'bout." He flipped her onto her back and poised himself between her legs. "But you're so fuckable right now."
She looked up at him perched above her as he undid his belt letting his dick spring free. She licked her lips. "You're pretty fuckable yourself, Daryl."
A lusty smile spread across his face as he toyed with the edge of her panties.
"What?"
"You just said 'fuckable'."
"So?"
"You never cuss." He leaned over to lick her nipple through the fabric of her bra. "You're so hot when you cuss."
Her eyes rolled back into her head as he slipped a finger under her panties and lightly touched her folds. "Oh God, Daryl." She shook her head from side to side as he nibbled her breast.
"I'm gonna fuck you again." Daryl purred. "I'm gonna fuck you hard." His fingers slipped inside her making her juices flow. "I'm gonna fuck your fancy ass more 'n once tonight."
"Please Daryl…" She moaned as he slipped a hand around to grab her ass. "I want you so bad."
"Cuss." Daryl ordered as he slid on a condom. "I wanna hear you cuss."
"Shit, fuck.." The head of his cock teased her through her panties.
"Aw fuck." Daryl pulled her panties aside and plunged into her in one swift stroke. "You're so fucking wet."
She gasped as he moved in and out of her quickly. "Oh fuck!" She cried as she neared her climax. "Oh fuck me!" She yelled as she came fast and hard on his cock. Daryl's orgasm came quickly after hers.
Emma vaguely noted the sound of thunder clapping, more quietly than before. The storm was moving on as she dozed off on Daryl's chest.