Chapter Twenty-Six

Even though the men in the cabin had only left Shane's door open a crack, Daryl's eyes struck gold on the first try. He couldn't see much. Really, it was just a sliver of skin. A pale inch of discolored cheek that the average man wouldn't have been able to discern from Adam. But where others might just have seen the beginning of an arched brow, the strong slope of a defined jaw, Daryl saw one thing and one thing only.

Shane.

Daryl vaulted towards that door, and that sliver of skin. Clouded by tunnel vision, his body snapped towards Shane's like two magnetic puzzle pieces falling into place. His vision narrowed until there was only that line of bruised stubble. And Daryl might have still been in control of his body, but he didn't want to be.

"Shane!"

Too loud, and he could hear the footsteps coming, but it didn't matter anymore. Because Shane was lying too still on the floor, and from this angle, Daryl couldn't see his eyes.

Daryl was less than a half-step away when there was a twitch. It was slight, but the archer latched onto it all the same, and fell to his knees by Shane's side.

"Shane," he grit out again, "Shane, c'mon. Gotta wake up. Please."

He was tilting Shane's head towards him, desperate to see something, anything. And distantly he could hear Merle storming into the cabin. Out of his periphery, he saw Merle barrel head-first into two of the men, while Rick slipped past them towards the back room.

Shane groaned under his breath and blinked his eyes open blearily to stare up at Daryl.

"Hey," Daryl murmured, "Hey, it's okay. I'm here. Just gotta get up, man. Gotta get out of here."

He whipped his knife out of its holster and began to saw at the ropes binding Shane's wrists. The thumping of knuckles against bone kept echoing from behind him, as well as snarled words from unfamiliar mouths.

"Gonna beat your faggot ass into the ground." "That all you got, boy?" "Kick off those high heels and fight me like a man!"

More worrying than that were the voices still coming from the back of the house- Rick's even, hurried words. A girl's desperate cries. The thick drawl of a predator cornering its prey.

With Daryl still fighting to untie him, Shane struggled to sit up. He leaned heavily against the wall, panting with the effort it had taken to move.

"Daryl," he mumbled, words a little too slurred for the younger boy's liking, "You gotta get out of here. S'not safe."

"Not without you," Daryl said firmly. The ropes finally fell from Shane's wrists, and Daryl grinned triumphantly. "C'mon," he urged again, throwing Shane's arm over his shoulders and pulling until they were both standing. Shane whimpered out a pained sound, and his ribs screamed in protest, but he managed to find his footing.

The two men had pushed Merle towards the kitchen, and their backs were to Daryl and Shane now. It wasn't a good spot for a fight. Too many hard angles, blunt objects, and sharp cutlery that could easily be repurposed as a weapon. Merle was struggling. Fighting two men half their size would have been a challenge, and it was a goddamn miracle the men hadn't figured out how to work together, but Daryl knew it was a matter of time before one of them got the jump on him.

He caught Merle's eye. A fraction of a second.

"Go," Merle mouthed, clear as day.

Daryl tightened his grip on Shane and made for the door. The cabin wasn't large by any man's standards. And without the heavy weight of Shane draped over his side, Daryl could have had his feet in the grass in seconds. But whatever energy Shane had mustered to get to his feet, it was gone now. Daryl dragged him forward, slow but sure.

Shane's foot caught on the molding at the bottom of the door. Daryl looked down, just long enough for him to grab ahold of the older boy's leg and give it a firm tug. But by the time Daryl's fingertips made contact with the denim at Shane's thigh, Shane wasn't in his arms anymore.

"Daryl, look out!"

Hands that had been limp just a second before darted out and shoved Daryl behind him. The force of it had Daryl stumbling backwards through the doorframe. And he watched, helpless, as a third man ran Shane through with a butcher knife.

The criminal seemed the most surprised of the three of them, staring down at the bloodied knife with wide eyes. Shane staggered back and back, until the porch banister stopped him. The world seemed to shoot upwards into the sky, and distantly, Shane recognized that he was sliding towards the ground.

But that didn't matter. It couldn't, when the body Shane knew every inch of- with its strong shoulders, captivating biceps, and piercing blue eyes- was flying through the air straight towards a man Shane knew to be armed. He wanted to stand up, wanted to scream, but his limbs wouldn't cooperate.

"What did the frog do when his car broke down?" Daryl asked. His eyes were sparkling in the midday sun, and Shane couldn't look away. The grass they were lying in was long and poorly kept. Shane could see it tickling up past Daryl's ears.

"What?" Shane asked with a grin.

"He got it toad," Daryl said. He managed to keep his straight face for about half a second before dissolving into a fit of giggles Shane would never have thought the boy capable of a few weeks before. Shane laughed right along with him, and pulled Daryl's hand up over his chest, lacing their fingers together.

"I like that one," Shane chuckled, "Why does a hummingbird hum?"

Daryl turned his head to look at him, one eyebrow arched comically.

"Because he doesn't know the words," Shane said. And this time, they fell into a fit of laughter in perfect sync.

"What do you call a cow with two legs?" Daryl asked. Shane tugged at the boy's opposite arm, and Daryl let him roll his relaxed body over until he was lying half on top of Shane.

"I don't know," Shane said. "Tell me."

"Lean beef," Daryl murmured. And even though they weren't giggling anymore, his smile was just as bright. Shane rubbed circles across the younger boy's back. His fingers massaged at Daryl's scalp, and he ran his nails lightly across the side of the boy's neck. Smiled when he shivered.

"What do you get when you cross a chicken and a vacuum?" Shane asked him.

Daryl shrugged minutely, and laid his cheek against Shane's chest.

"A cocksucker," Shane told him, eyebrows practically at his hairline. And he looked so goddamn proud of himself that Daryl couldn't help but laugh.

He smacked Shane on the shoulder, still chuckling. "That a proposition?"

Abruptly, Shane wrapped his arms around Daryl and flipped their positions. He let their lower bodies rest against each other, the ghost of a promise, and leaned down to nip once at Daryl's lower lip.

"That depends," Shane said. "You interested?"

Shane blinked rapidly and tried to stay focused on the world around him. A few feet away, Daryl was crouched over a motionless body. Blood was pouring from a face that didn't look very much like a face anymore. And Daryl was in his own world, landing blow after blow and grunting even as his knuckles began to split.

"Daryl," Shane tried to call out, but it didn't sound like his voice at all. It was more cracking than sound, and Daryl didn't make any indication he'd heard it.

"Daryl!" Shane croaked, putting every ounce of available will power behind it. The archer froze, and jerked his head back towards Shane. All at once, he shoved himself away from the unconscious body below him and crawled towards the older boy.

"Shane…" Daryl breathed. His lower lip was wobbling, but it was almost unnoticeable with how violently the rest of him was shaking. He pressed his hand down over the place where the knife had gone in.

"It's okay," Shane said, "It's gonna be okay."

"It's not okay," Daryl hissed. He blinked his eyes rapidly and tilted his head up towards the sky, hoping to hold the tears back. "Why'd you do that? He was coming for me, Shane. It was supposed to be me! What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Better me than you," Shane replied with a crooked smile. It was getting harder to breathe, but he wouldn't let that stop him.

Daryl shook his head. "That's not true."

"It is," Shane said with quiet insistence. "It always has been. This," he motioned down towards Daryl's hand on his body. The place leaking blood too fast for Daryl to stop it. "This doesn't matter. Doesn't, 'cuz you're safe. 'Cuz they didn't hurt you. Promised you that, didn't I? Promised I'd never let anyone hurt you again. Don't you remember?"

"I remember," Daryl whispered, "'Course I do." Tears were beginning to stream down his face, but he barely registered them.

"I keep my promises," Shane said. "So this is okay, you see? You're gonna be fine."

"Stop it," Daryl said, "Don't talk like you ain't gonna make it. Don't do that."

"It doesn't matter," Shane said again, "Because you're fine. You're okay. It's- it's- that's the only thing."

"You matter too," Daryl said.

"Not as much," Shane sighed. It was a constant fight not to look down towards his middle. He feared that one lengthy look at the amount of blood that had already escaped his body and he'd be done before he was ready. "Daryl…gotta tell you. Now, when you can't get mad. Least, not as mad as you could get…"

"What is it?" Daryl asked him, "Whatever it is…"

"Your dad didn't end up in jail by accident," Shane said slowly. He took a moment to suck in a shuddering breath before continuing, kept his eyes on Daryl's even when he knew that his saddened expression was about to contort into something angry and directed at him. "Planted those drugs on him. Had to make sure you'd be safe. Had to- after what he did- couldn't-"

"Shh, s'alright," Daryl murmured, holding Shane's gaze. His face was open, if pained, but not the rageful mask Shane had expected.

"It is?"

"Already knew," Daryl said, "That old fucker was too lazy to deal. And as far as drugs were concerned, he never strayed from his liquor. Knew it wasn't his. And I ain't mad. Never was. 'Cuz...I never had someone care that much about me before."

"You were worth it," Shane said, "You're always gonna be."

Daryl smiled weakly and pressed as close to Shane as he could get. "That's when I figured it out though, ya know? When I realized what you'd done for me- that's when I knew I loved you. So you can't go, Shane, you can't. Please don't."

"Love you so much, Daryl," Shane said, "Before you, wasn't even sure I could. But I'm not the only one. You've got people now. People who care about you, love you. You deserve that. Always have, you just couldn't see it." He stopped to gasp in a breath. It felt like his lungs were shrinking slowly. Every inhale became more exhausting, and less satisfying. "But it's gonna be okay, now. Because you've got people. You won't be alone, again. So- so it's alright. This is alright."

"Stop it," Daryl begged, blue eyes overflowing as salty trails streaked down his face. "You're not gonna die. Quit talkin' like you're gonna die."

"I don't want to," Shane whispered, the quietest he'd been yet. Daryl pressed their foreheads together, entire body shaking with sobs he couldn't hold back. "I don't want to leave you. I'd never choose it. But, I don't think I can stay."

There was a mess of noise as someone ran around the corner, but Daryl's eyes stayed on Shane.

"Stay awake," Daryl begged him. "Stay with me. You've gotta stay, Shane, please."

"Cops are coming!" Rick shouted distantly. And Shane couldn't really make out the words Merle hollered in response, but he figured it didn't matter. Not when his vision had gone black at the edges, until all he could see clearly were Daryl's watery eyes. An ocean held back by a string, where he'd be happy to drown.

"Don't go," Daryl whispered, and Shane only realized belatedly that his response hadn't quite made it out to Daryl's ears.

I don't want to.

There was a lot more noise. Shane could sense it, but it came to him as an echo. Like a drop of dye shot through oil. So defused by the time it reached him that he could barely recognize it. Voices, he thought. A bunch of them, none recognizable.

"He's over here!" Shane thought he heard Merle scream, "We need an ambulance!"

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but Daryl's eyes, still fixed on him and pleading as much as eyes could alone.

"Shane," Daryl rasped. And even though his voice was half-broken, Shane thought it was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. The sound whispered through his synapses, warm and comforting. He'd never get tired of hearing Daryl say his name. And he wanted to tell Daryl as much, wanted to hold him and quiet his trembling.

Breathing that had been shallow and rapid evened out into nothing, and Shane finally let his eyes close.

A hard rap on his second story window startled Shane awake in the dead of night. Legs still tangled in his sheets, he went plummeting to the floor as he attempted to get out of bed. Finally, he righted himself, and pulled back the curtains to his bedroom window. When he saw Daryl perched precariously on a branch outside, he pushed it open in a rush.

"What are you doing here?" Shane asked, smiling, while Daryl grumbled at the same time, "You gonna let me in, or what?"

Shane grinned wider, and held out a hand to help Daryl inside. The boy slid in easily enough, but Shane didn't miss the way he winced as he stood up properly.

"He hurt you," Shane growled, and Daryl away from him.

"Nah. Must have pulled somethin' hunting earlier," Daryl said.

He sidestepped Shane and walked over to the bed. Sat down gingerly and avoided the older boy's gaze.

Shane crouched down in front of him and put his hands on Daryl's thighs, forcing eye contact.

"Don't lie to me about it," Shane asked him, but his voice was pleading rather than accusatory. "You want to keep lying to everyone else- fine. But not to me."

"I'm- m'not-" Daryl protested weakly.

"You are," Shane disagreed gently, "And it's gotta be exhausting. Keeping up with all these stories. So, you don't have to tell me what happened, but you don't have to lie either. When you're with me...just, relax. I'm not like the rest of them. I ain't lookin' for an explanation. M'just happy you're here."

Daryl shivered and set his hand down beside Shane's, letting them touch, but only barely.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Daryl asked him. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept at Shane's, but it would be the first time he'd sought Shane out after a run in with his dad. And that meant something. It had to.

"'Course you can," Shane said, smiling, "Wouldn't let you leave if you tried."

Shane helped Daryl undress, and they curled into bed together, Daryl's back to Shane's front. He kept his arm hooked over Daryl's hip, rather than his middle, in fear of hurting him further. Shane could feel Daryl slowly uncoiling against him, and it filled him with pride. Daryl trusted him. Had to, if this was the place he ran to when he needed to feel safe. Needed time to lick his wounds in peace.

But Shane could do him one better. He ran his palm gently over Daryl's crotch. The younger boy exhaled quickly, so Shane did it again, more forcefully this time. Already, he could feel Daryl growing hard for him, and God, there was nothing better than being the one to make Daryl feel that way.

"Shane…"

"Shh," the older boy soothed. He pulled open Daryl's boxers and wrapped a hand around him, relished the breathy moan he got in response.

Shane began to stroke Daryl slowly, nipping and sucking at the side of his neck while Daryl squirmed in place.

"That's it," Shane whispered, "Know you want it. S'alright."

Daryl was rocking forward into Shane's fist, and back against his aching length. For Shane, the friction was both too much and not enough. But he didn't touch himself, didn't think to try. This wasn't about him.

"Promise me you'll always come here, if you're hurt," Shane whispered in Daryl's ear. He jerked the younger boy faster.

"Sh-Shane," Daryl gasped.

"Need you to promise, Daryl. That you'll come here. Rick's. Don't matter where. But you don't get to hide out and try to manage this shit on your own. Not anymore."

Daryl groaned and thrust desperately into Shane's grip.

"Shane c'mon," he moaned, "Need to- I need-"

"You need to promise," Shane cut him off with a growl. He palmed the leaking head, just so. And it was more than Daryl could take.

"I promise!" Daryl gasped, "Swear I will. But please. God, please Shane. Just-"

Shane tightened his grip at fucked his hand over the reddened tip of Daryl's cock, just as Daryl's own hand flew down to join him. And he couldn't hold it anymore. Not with Shane holding him close and touching him so fucking perfectly and making everything else fade into the background.

"Oh. Oh fuck," Daryl groaned, curling in on himself as warm wetness streaked down his and Shane's joined hands.

"That's what I want to hear," Shane murmured a few moments later as he cleaned them up, "Gonna hold you to it, now."

Daryl was a puddle of content muscle on the bed. His breathing had already gone slow and deep, and he couldn't seem to open his eyes.

"Can do you," he mumbled into the sheets, "Just, just lemme…"

"Shh," Shane purred, pulling Daryl into his arms again, "Just sleep. Alright? Sleep."