Chapter Six

Shane sat in his first period class with Rick by his side and glared at the door. He'd hardly slept the night before; not after finding the will to continue rolling down Daryl's drive way and getting his exhausted body home. Shane replayed the scene over and over in his mind, until the first rays of light were peeking through his shades. Daryl's terrified expression when the front door slammed. The anger, mingled with panic, that flashed across his face before he finally lashed out.

If Shane was being honest with himself, he was lucky that Daryl had hit him. It had left him just numb enough to overshadow his impulsive, possessive streak. Too dazed to storm back into that house to take on Will Dixon himself, and undoubtedly make things worse. Because there'd be no hiding it, then. Once Daryl's father saw what Shane would do to protect his youngest son, he'd know. And if he didn't succeed in killing Daryl for it, he'd certainly try.

Either way, it was best that Shane had lethargically made his way home, even if images of what Daryl might be enduring kept him awake long past the point of normality. It was for the best, he kept telling himself. It had to be. Except Shane knew now that there had been no best circumstance for Daryl last night. He knew it, even while he told himself otherwise. Because Shane was still glaring at the door angrily, worriedly, tapping his foot on the ground and his pen on the desk and fighting not to get up and leave.

Daryl was late for class.

Why wouldn't he just listen to me? Why wouldn't he let me help him? Why-?

The door slammed open, prompting all but Shane to startle, and in strode a carefully indifferent Daryl Dixon.

"Dixon, you're late," their teacher sighed, and Daryl gave her a halfhearted shrug. Shane didn't miss the way that small movement had Daryl struggling not to wince.

"Sorry," Daryl muttered, making his way to his seat. He barely concealed his limp.

Shane stared him down. And Daryl stared down at his desk.

It was forty minutes of torture, barely registering their teacher droning on about Charles Dickens before Daryl was bolting upright at the bell, first out of the classroom. Shane was soon after, following him down the hall and around the corner as students began to stream out and into his path. From up ahead, Shane saw Daryl dart into one of the bathrooms. It was out of the way from any of the classrooms, a place most kids went to hook up or get high. He smirked to himself at the sick sense of irony.

Shane burst through the door and did a quick scan. It was just him, and a frightened-looking Daryl. He let the door shut behind them.

"Seriously? You're hiding from me now?" were the first words out of Shane's mouth, and he instantly regretted how accusatory they sounded, even to his own ears. But goddamn it, he was pissed, and having to chase this dumbass through the halls hadn't helped things one bit.

"Fuck off, Shane. Just leave me alone," Daryl growled, moving to push past Shane and get to the door. But the larger boy shoved him back, an ounce too roughly, sending Daryl reeling into the sink with a sharp gasp of pain.

"We ain't finished," Shane snarled, and Daryl scowled at him.

"Yeah. We are," Daryl hissed. "Nurse says I'm better now. So you and me? We've got no reason to be spendin' time together. You don't owe me nothin', alright? Shit can go back to the way it was."

"You don't want that," Shane said, with a hint of doubt in his voice, and Daryl hinged onto it.

"Quit putting words in my fucking mouth, Shane! I'm done with you. We're done."

Shane regarded him solemnly for a moment, then took a small step towards him, eyes glimmering dangerously. "No, we're not."

He watched recognition dash across Daryl's features, crumbling his angry front. "Shane…"

The moment of hesitation was enough of an opening for Shane to grab Daryl by his shoulders and shove him into the closest stall, locking the door behind him. Daryl was immediately panicked, scratching at Shane and trying for the door, but Shane pinned him by his arms and pressing the lower halves of their bodies together.

"Just kiss me, Daryl. It's okay," Shane crooned, and snarled when the younger boy very nearly head-butted him in response.

"Stop it," Shane barked sharply, "You want this. You want this, Daryl. Don't tell me you don't." His babbling self-talk bordered on manic, and Daryl found himself struggling to breathe.

Realizing that he didn't have the strength to overpower Shane, Daryl slumped in his grasp, breathing shallow and rapid when he finally looked Shane in the eye.

"Don't do this," Daryl whispered, pleaded with him. "Please, Shane."

And for all the times Daryl had begged him before, this made Shane's stomach cramp with the need to vomit. He let go of Daryl abruptly, panting a little himself and leaning against the opposite wall.

"Don't do what?" Shane questioned disbelievingly. "What's 'this', huh? What are you so sure I'm gonna do?"

Daryl's hand moved cautiously towards the lock again, but Shane slapped it away.

"No." Shane ground the word out, with less fire than before, but just as much determination. "Take your shirt off."

Daryl's eyes locked on his, wide with fear. He said nothing, and remained frozen.

"I'm just like him, right? That's what you're saying? That's what you're thinking? Then go on, show me what he did. Show me." Daryl made no move to comply, so instead Shane pinned him again with an arm across his chest, and unbuttoned his shirt one-handed, ripping it open despite Daryl's protests.

Daryl didn't bother hiding himself, once all was said and done. He wilted a little against the wall, winded, and glared off to the side and down at the floor. His hands were balled into fists, as if he was waiting for the hits to start coming.

What he didn't expect was for Shane to let out a sound close to a whimper, eyes abandoning Daryl's battered torso to seek out the boy's eyes.

"Daryl," Shane said softly, moving at the same time to cup the younger boy's cheek. Daryl flinched away out of instinct, and Shane pressed a hand to his shoulder instead, rubbing slowly. "I won't hurt you. Remember?"

"Y'already did," Daryl muttered, the first words he'd managed in some time.

Shane nodded contritely. "Look at me," he demanded gently. Blue orbs snapped up to greet him, and he nearly smiled. "I'm sorry."

At his words, Daryl let out a deep sigh, and some of the tension in his body seemed to dissipate. So Shane let his hand migrate up to Daryl's neck, rubbing slow circles and trying to communicate with his actions what he couldn't seem to get right when he opened his damn mouth.

"Daryl…" Shane began, mouth dry, "You can't stay there anymore. Look, we can call the cops, a social worker—"

"You think I haven't tried that before? You think no one ever called the cops on him, back before he learned where to hit me so it wouldn't show?" Daryl hissed, "Whatever my Dad...does...those homes are worse. I've just got to ride it out, 'til I'm 18..."

"You think it'll end then? You think he'll ever just let you go?" Shane questioned desperately.

"Tell me, then! Tell me what to fucking do! You want me to put my only living parent in jail then get stuck in one of those homes where they'll either rape me, or beat me, or both? That what you want?!"

Shane's eyes went wide. "Jesus, Daryl. Is that what—?"

"No! But only 'cuz Merle got me out of there before it could happen. Those places ain't safe, Shane."

Shane paused a moment, sucking in a deep, steadying breath. When he opened his mouth next, he watched Daryl closely. "And being around your Dad is?"

The look of pained understanding in Daryl's eyes was impossible to miss.

"He's...I can handle him," the younger boy tried to justify.

"Yeah, it sure looks like you're handling him," Shane scoffed.

"I can take it," Daryl insisted, and Shane moved his other hand to Daryl's shoulder, wanting as much contact with him as the boy would tolerate.

"Daryl... don't you get it? I don't want you to have to take it. You don't deserve this, any of it. You don't deserve to get beat up by your own fucking father, whose supposed to protect you. You don't—"

"So..." Daryl cut him off, leaning his head just slightly into Shane's still-stroking hand. "So make it…better," Daryl shakily finished. His face was flushed pink with embarrassment at what he'd just let slip, but Shane only moved in closer, stroking him gently and reassuring him with his body.

Daryl wasn't even sure why he put it like that, but the more concern Shane showed for him, the more Daryl just wanted him to stop. Shane was pressed against him now, running his fingertips up and down his side, and Daryl couldn't help but moan in relief. This was something he understood. All those words, but this was so much easier for him to tolerate. He tilted his head up towards Shane invitingly, and the older boy took the chance to cautiously meld their lips together.

Even with Daryl hard and pushed up against him, Shane was being so careful about everything. His lips migrated from Daryl's mouth down to his neck, then suckled gently at his collar bone. It was not enough, and too much. And Daryl might have cried out his frustration at the entire situation, but he knew that could only end in more talking, and he wasn't about to let that happen. So Daryl let Shane make his way slowly down his chest, watching his face for the smallest sign of discomfort.

Shane took a nipple into his mouth, sucked hard, then soft, and bit lightly at the reddened bud. Daryl hissed and arched up off the wall, pleading with his body, rather than his traitorous tongue. And Shane rewarded him by slowly massaging the bulge in his jeans, then paying the same attention to the opposite nipple. He kissed languidly down Daryl's sternum, until the younger boy was panting roughly up towards the ceiling. Daryl's head was tilted back, as if watching what Shane was doing to him, and feeling it all at once, was just too much to bear.

But then Shane's lips met the first of Daryl's bruises, and every muscle seized up in fear.

"Shh," Shane tried to soothe him, "Won't hurt you."

Shane knelt in front of him, head even with Daryl's belly button, and pressed a feather-light kiss to a particularly ugly gash. The area around it was all purple and red, and the wound itself was hardly healed enough to keep from bleeding, but Shane kissed it all the same. And when no pain followed, Daryl couldn't help the deep sigh of relief that left him in a groaning rush.

Daryl couldn't understand why Shane even wanted to touch him at the moment, marked up as he was. Dried blood was still streaked over various patches of blotchy skin, but Shane's lips never stopped, caressing every inch of his beaten body without the slightest hint of disgust.

It should hurt, something deep in Daryl's mind reminded him eagerly. And it should have hurt; it always had before. But every fluttering touch felt better than the last, to the point where Shane's hands had wandered possessively to Daryl's hips, keeping him standing when his legs began to shake.

"Shane, please…" Daryl murmured, trying to keep his voice from trembling along with his body. He didn't succeed, and Shane's eyes shot up to his, questioning. But how could Daryl explain that even without Shane's hands touching him where he thought he needed it the most, his body was caving towards bright, hot release. He couldn't make the words come, or even express it in his own mind. Not when the gentle way Shane was touching him and the affection in his eyes had Daryl fighting back tears. He blinked rapidly, hoping to god that Shane hadn't seen.

"It's okay," Shane said, and Daryl's cheeks burned for a moment of paralyzing fear, before Shane followed with, "I've got you. Just gotta be quiet."

Daryl nodded, and gnawed at his lower lip. He watched Shane easily unzip his fly, pulling Daryl's length to his mouth before the younger boy had realized just where this was going.

Wet heat surrounded him, and Daryl moaned through his teeth. "Oh fuck, Shane."

The older boy was wasting no time, building a steady rhythm and following his mouth's movements with one hand, while the other went to roll and cup Daryl's balls.

"I'm not gonna…I can't…" Daryl moaned, fisting his hands into Shane's hair.

Shane moved to palm Daryl's ass, encouraging him to buck forwards and meet Shane's motions. Daryl's whole body was on fire. A bright ball of pleasure overshadowing every ounce of pain, dull and searing alike.

"So close, fuck I'm so close," Daryl groaned. He watched his glistening cock disappear into Shane's mouth, and moaned again when Shane's eyes darted up to his, dark with arousal. The fact that it was Shane doing this to him made it so much better. On his knees in a goddamn bathroom stall with Daryl's cock in his mouth because he wanted to.

Shane wanted him.

Shane wanted him.

For the first time, those words truly hit home. Daryl's body tensed taut as wire, and in that moment he was gone.

Shane growled possessively around his length, and Daryl cried out far louder than he should have when his orgasm hit. His hips thrust forward of their own accord, and Daryl lost his footing. One hand slammed into the opposite wall, and the other held Shane steady as he came hard down the older boy's throat, trying and failing at stifling his groans.

He was still shaking from head to toe when Shane tucked him away and went to stand, maneuvering him so he was leaning against the wall again.

Shane smirked at him, "That good, huh?"

"Shut up," Daryl huffed, but he cracked a grateful smile. "You didn't…you want me to…?"

"Nah, I'm good," Shane said, and a light went off in Daryl's mind.

"Ya know, normal people just apologize," Daryl said, but he was still smiling, and Shane grinned right back.

"Yeah, well, I tried that. But you didn't seem to believe me," Shane bit back playfully.

A bell rang from out in the hallway, and Daryl snorted out a laugh. "Guess we skipped P.E."

Shane cocked an eyebrow at him, "I don't know about that. Think the two of us worked up a real sweat."

"Stop," Daryl deadpanned. He haphazardly buttoned his shirt and jeans, and shouldered his backpack. His hair was sticking up in all the wrong places, and he was out the door before Shane could move to stop him. He hastily followed Daryl out into the hallway.

Just behind him, and in a low enough voice that only Daryl would hear, Shane whispered, "Just so ya know, ya look thoroughly fucked."

Daryl stopped in his tracks, pawing frantically at his hair. Shane heard him curse under his breath when he realized that his shirt was done up wrong too. He continued by, chuckling to himself, and leaving Daryl to handle the clean-up.