Daryl awoke to the smell of pancakes, specifically, Shane's homemade buttermilk pancakes he constantly referred to as 'legendary'. Really, they sucked ass in Daryl's opinion but if you drowned them in enough syrup you'd barely notice the gritty bits of pancake mix.

Nevertheless, Daryl got up out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans, a flannel cutoff, and his boots that he gathered up from the floor. Quickly throwing them on, he headed downstairs to join his fellow housemates.

As he entered the kitchen, he heard Dale talking of last night's dealings, "then he put whipped cream all over both of us," Dale said, shivering in disgust, "it was a sticky mess and I don't even want to think about my sheets right now." Dale shook his head as he finished his story.

Dale, Glenn, and Tyreese were all eating their pancake breakfasts at the table beside the great bay window at the other side of the relatively small but nicely decorated kitchen.

Shane stood at the stove with his spatula in hand, ready to pounce on the next pancake that needed flipping. "That's nothing," Glenn said to Dale, "last night, I had that Phillip guy again,"

"Again? That's like the third time this week!" Tyreese said loudly.

"Yeah, you're telling me," Glenn sighed.

Daryl grabbed a plate from the cabinet as he listened, "Anyway, shit got real weird last night," Glenn looked around at his housemates as if he were telling a ghost story, "So, I was sucking his dick, right? And when I look up he's got this stupid fucking eye patch on and he's telling me to call him the governor,"

Tyreese cracked up laughing, "The governor?" he asked, trying to keep from spitting out his pancakes.

Glenn turned to Tyreese with a stern look which effectively stifled his laughter. Tyreese cleared his throat, "Go on," he said, focusing on his pancakes if only to keep from chuckling.

"Next thing I know, he's tossing me on the bed and putting a burlap sack on my head," Glenn took a couple gulps of milk before returning to his breakfast, "good thing he doesn't last long because I was about ready to make the eye patch a permanent accessory."

Daryl shook his head; this was why it was so much easier with women. They had their kinks, but he'd never had to deal with such a freak as 'the governor'.

"Shit Glenn, sometimes I wonder where you find all these assholes," Shane said as he watched over his last batch of pancakes.

"Apparently they find me." Glenn said unhappily.

Daryl reached over Shane's shoulder and tried to pluck one of the pancakes out of the pan. Before he could though, Shane slapped his hand with a spatula, "You already got a plate," he said, smiling to himself.

"Yeah, Daryl, your plate is right here," Dale said, pointing to a plate beside him. Daryl nodded and returned the plate he was holding back into the cabinet before heading over to his seat. Everyone's eyes were trained on Daryl as he took his seat, though he hardly noticed.

The plate was covered in a paper towel to keep the pancakes warm, or so Daryl thought.

As he reached for the syrup, he pulled the paper towel off of the plate and bit his tongue as the room broke out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

There, on Daryl's plate, were three pancakes of varying sizes that were purposefully shaped like penises.

"Wait, wait, wait," Shane managed between laughs, "it needs somethin' extra," he said, taking the syrup from Daryl's hands and drizzling the liquid from the tip of each of the fiendishly shaped breakfast cakes.

Daryl pushed Shane away with a huff as the laughter died down, "Asshole," he said grumpily.

Shane placed the syrup back on the table and returned to his station. "Hey man, we heard about your talk with Merle," Tyreese said. Daryl glared over at Glenn, who stared back nervously.

"I had to focus in on something besides what 'the governor' was doing to my ass, okay?" Glenn said before stabbing his pancakes with his fork and stuffing them into his mouth.

"What I'm trying to say is, if you need any tips or anything, we'll help you out." Daryl ignored him and began violently cutting apart his breakfast.

Truth was he hadn't slept very well at all last night, he'd been up thinking about that man all night; Rick Grimes.

What started him on the topic was the fact that his wife had been left from Shane's room mere moments before Rick had entered. It was almost too ironic to believe.

When he finally did manage to fall asleep, his mind hardly let him rest.

It was one of the strangest drams he'd ever had; the scene was that of a grand ball, with its guests dressed in the appropriately dated attire of extravagant gowns and fine suits.

He must've danced with a dozen different women, but they were all a blur of curled hair and heavy perfume; none of their faces stuck in his mind. He couldn't remember how it happened or for what reason, but at one point in his dream he found himself sitting at one of the many tables that encircled the ballroom floor.

And just like that, the party was over. The guests were gone, the music had ceased, and the ballroom was swallowed up in silence.

But as he glanced around the room, he found he was not alone.

One man, one all too familiar man, sat at a table across the room from him, sipping his wine and staring at him. Daryl instantly recognized him by his blue eyes, though as Rick set his glass back down on the table, the smile that pulled at his lips was not the simple polite one from before; this one held a darkness in it that Daryl hadn't seen before.

But deep down, some part of him liked it, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

In his dream, the lights began to flicker as Rick slowly rose, turned his back, and walked away into the shadows. From there, Daryl woke up.

"Listen, son," Dale said, leaning over and touching Daryl's arm, "it's all about the hand work," Dale curled his hand as if it were wrapped around a dick, "just the right amount of pressure and-"

Daryl tore his arm away from his older housemate, "Get outta here with that shit, old man," he said with a mouth full of pancakes, "can't you see I'm eatin'?"

"Well, excuse me for trying to help you," Dale said, making sure to embellish how offended he was.

"I know how to rub a fucking dick I've only been doin' it my whole life, dumbass." Dale had already stomped out of the room, though no one in the room seemed to miss him when he left.

Glenn and Tyreese picked up their dishes and were off to prepare for business as usual tonight, leaving Shane and Daryl alone in the kitchen.

Shane sat down in a newly vacant seat and began preparing his pancakes to be devoured. Daryl was just finishing up his breakfast as Shane sat. Just as Shane had opened his mouth to take the first bite, Daryl asked, "So, how long you been fucking that guy's wife?"

Night had fallen, and customers had come and gone…..and cum and gone just the same.

The last appointments were finishing up, and Daryl was once again left without work. Not that he minded.

Luckily for him the male customers of the day all had appointments with the others. And so Daryl stood in his darkened room, tossing darts at his dart board and once again trying to ignore the sounds all around him.

At one point he had to burst out in a laugh because of a horrified moaning sound that he recognized as Dale's. It was always funny to hear Dale be abused, always. Old fool.

Daryl could also hear Shane at work, though this time his customer was a man.

As for Glenn, Daryl heard 'governor' forcedly moan once or twice, which made him shiver.

Daryl had just landed another bullseye when a different sound caught his attention coming from the front hall. He tossed his last dart and left to stand at the top of the staircase.

Looking down at the hall below, he could see his brother manning the front desk and talking to none other than a severely drunken Rick Grimes, who held a certain cloak in his fist.

"She's here now, isn't she?" Rick slurred, not angrily necessarily, but certainly not happily.

Merle shrugged, "Rick, my customers are very secretive about their identities, they almost never use their real names when coming here, I've no way to tell if your wife has ever even been here before." Merle said, lying through his teeth.

Rick threw the cloak down on Merle's desk. "Lots of our customers cover their faces as well." Rick's nostrils flared as he began to pace the floor, his anger rising.

"Why the hell would she-" Rick rubbed his forehead and continued his pacing, "She sits at home and blames me," his voice rose in volume, "and then comes here!" Merle began to hush him.

"Rick, you know I'd help ya if I could, but I've got customers," Rick came to lean on Merle's desk and stared down at the wood, keeping his face obscured from Daryl's view, "if you need me to bring around a ride for you-"

Rick said bitterly. Merle tried to conceal his surprise. "I want to know what makes it worth..." he trailed off.

Rick pulled out his wallet and tossed the money on Merle's desk. Merle caught sight of Daryl in the corner of his eye and smiled, "Right then, I've got just the guy for you," Rick followed Merle's gaze up to Daryl.

And, not for the first time, Daryl was mesmerized by the icy blue eyes of Rick Grimes.

Or, as he was to be known from now on, Daryl's first male customer.