Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking dead.
a/n: As always, thank you to everyone with me in this fic.
...
Rick watched warily as Merle strode into the small room, his hand dropping from Carol's arm. He stepped back a pace, rubbing at his face, "I...think maybe I should go," he said quickly.
Merle turned his angry gaze on him."Ya fuckin' well think?" he spat out.
"I didn't know you'd gotten back, Merle," Carol said, glancing from Rick.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Merle barked out suspiciously. He turned his head, his eyes narrowing as he thought he saw a strange little look pass between the both of them. "This what ya do when I'm gone, huh? Entertainin' assholes like him in our goddamn cell?"
"Merle," Rick said as he stepped away. "I don't know what you think is going on here, but you've got it all wrong."
"Jus' get the fuck out'a here, Rick," he glowered.
Rick looked away from him and glanced towards Carol. "Will you be alright?" he asked, pausing and waiting for her to answer as he moved towards the entrance.
"It's okay Rick," she reassured him with a small tired smile.
Merle snorted in indignation, and he sharply brought his hand up and shoved hard against Rick, the sudden motion jostling and almost pushing him off his feet. Rick glared at him, and he was mildly amused to see the hostility burning in the other mans eyes.
"You wanna make somethin' of this?" Merle demanded, stepping forwards and squaring his shoulders as Rick edged his way towards the cell door. "'Cause yer a fuckin' asshole if you think I'm gonna let any damn thing happen to her."
Carol stepped quickly between them, holding one hand out towards Merle, trying to placate him. She gave him a curt look before glancing from him to look at Rick, and Merle watched in disgust as she touched at the sheriffs wrist, "I think it would be better if you just go Rick," she said softly.
Rick didn't answer, he just looked at her for moment longer before inclining his head. "Okay. But if you need anything-"
"She ain't needing any damn thing off ya," Merle snapped. "You heard the woman-go an' get the hell out'a here. I ain't gonna warn ya again."
He felt some satisfaction as Rick backed awkwardly out of the cell, and he stepped out after him, leaning his shoulder to the bars of the door, watching as Rick walked down the gangway, the heel of his cowboy boots clicking on the metal. He waited for a moment longer, before turning to glance at Carol over his shoulder.
"You want to tell me what the hell Rick was doing in our cell?"
She looked at him and raised her eyebrows, her mouth drawn into a tight thin line, and Merle wondered at the fact that she seemed angry with him. He shrugged as her eyes narrowed, and she moved away from him to sit on the edge of her bunk, her hands resting on her thighs.
"Ain't got anything to say, huh?" he asked, walking back into the cell. He made to sit on the bunk with her, backing away quickly and thinking better of it as she flashed her eyes at him in warning.
"We were only talking," she said tightly.
Merle tilted his head slightly to the side, looking at her narrowly. "Didn't look it to me," he muttered sourly. "Talking with yer hands all over each other-"
"Merle? What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped out suddenly, and he widened his eyes in surprise at the vehemence in her tone.
"Ain't nothing wrong with me, sweetheart," he drawled. "Jus' sayin' it how it is."
She sighed wearily, "I have no idea what you thought was happening, but I'm telling you Merle, we were talking, it was nothing more than that."
Merle huffed, "Yeah...alright, of course ye were darlin'. Talking...in our cell. With that asshole." He didn't believe it for one minute, and he was starting to think on all the other times that he'd been away and if Rick had been anywhere near. He was of half a mind to go after him and knock him flat on his goddamned ass.
"My cell, Merle. Not yours, not ours. My cell. And if I want to talk to Rick in my cell, then I damn well will," she grated out.
He didn't say anything, just curled his lip at her. She was starting to piss him off, and he watched irritably as she pulled herself further up on the bunk, dragging her legs up and leaning her back to the wall. She banded her arms about her knees, her hands clasping loosely together, and she glanced up at him for a moment, before tearing her gaze away but not before he saw the start of tears shimmering brightly in her eyes.
"Ah hell. Whatcha crying for now?" he grunted uncomfortably. He grasped at his prosthetic, drumming his fingers against the dull grimed metal. "You huh...you ain't got no need fer any of that shit."
"Why have you got to over-react?" she asked, ignoring the quick annoyed look he shot her. "I had to speak to him privately, and I didn't want the whole damn prison to hear. You know how it is, Merle."
Yeah he knew how it damn well was, and he wondered what would have happened if he had turned up five minutes later. He would have caught them both for sure. It surprised and sickened him to think of them both together, and now the stupid woman was accusing him of over-reacting. He knew that he wasn't-how the hell could he after he'd seen them together like that. Sheriff fucking asshole was gunning for him all along, what better way to finally try to drive him away than this.
"Are you even listening to me?" she asked, breaking into his thoughts.
He glanced at her, dropping his hand from his prosthetic and pushing himself away from the wall. "What?"
She stared at him, shaking her head, before moving off the bunk and coming across to stand near him. He raised his head, his eyes not leaving hers. "You should leave, Merle," she said. "Just go."
He frowned at her, "I ain't going any fuckin' where," he retorted stubbornly. "You wouldn't let me anywhere near ya last night, an' ya ain't gonna do it to me again." He paused, watching her carefully, "Unless ya got a reason. Maybe ye want your asshole boyfriend-"
"For Christ's sake!" Carol snapped at him.
She sighed tiredly and stepped closer to him, and he felt himself trying to shrink away from her, inching away until his back hit the wall solidly. She reached out her hand and touched at his cheek, her fingers brushing softly against his thin beard, and he swallowed thickly at the sensation, trying to twist his head away from her.
"I can't do this," she said quietly, her fingers trailing down to his chin before dropping away. She stepped back from him and banded her arms about herself, and he was alarmed to see the tears falling thickly from her eyes, glistening on her cheeks and running down to her jaw. Her breath hitched lightly in her throat, "I don't care for Rick or anyone else, not like I do you. I...I love you Merle...but this? I just can't do it. Not now. Just go, please."
She turned away so that her back was facing him, and he was aware that his mouth was gaping open in disbelief. He blinked rapidly, swatting at his face with his hand, still feeling the cool touch of her fingers on his cheek, the trail of her fingertips still heating and burning his skin.
He froze, at a complete loss how to react and what to say. What could he fucking say? After that...hell, nobody had ever told him that they loved him. He grimaced, glancing at her again, seeing her head was now downcast and her shoulders were moving ever so damn slightly and he wasn't a complete unfeeling idiot to know that she was crying again, and he was the cause of it-and she was trying her damnedest not to show him.
He swallowed tightly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He wanted to tell her then that she was nothing more than a stupid dumb bitch for saying shit like that- his God forsaken miserable hide wasn't worth loving, not by her. He'd never expected anything like that off anyone. He didn't deserve it. He opened his mouth to retort back, but instead he shook his head in amazement as he watched her, clamping his mouth firmly shut. He found that he didn't have anything to say to her-he didn't know what to say.
So he did the next best thing, the only thing he'd ever known how to do right.
He turned and fled.
…
He felt miserable and the more he thought about it, the more he knew that she was right, and that in itself was starting to piss himself off all over again. He had over-reacted. He couldn't damn well help it. He'd seen the two of them together and had been unable to stop the rage and jealousy as it skewered him. She had offered little reason for Grimes being in their cell, and he hadn't really believed that it was because they were talking. Hell they could have done that any damn where, why did it have to be in their fucking cell.
Merle narrowed his eyes in the faint evening light, his eyes traveling across the courtyard to the watchtower, where he could discern the light from one of the storm lanterns shining palely. Some ass was taking watch- he didn't know who, but he thought it was probably one of those assholes from Woodbury. It wouldn't be Henry, Tyreese or Zach, they had all retired to their rooms early, tired and worn out from the supply run earlier that day.
He paced across the concrete, trying to clear his head and trying his damnedest to calm the hell down. Sighing, he looked up at the sky irritably as the first spatters of rain hit his face, and for a moment he regretted leaving his jacket and his smokes back in his own cell.
The dark shadow of the pig pen loomed up largely before him, and he stepped curiously over to it, hearing the piglets soft little snuffles. He rest his arms on the ramshackle fencing as he peered over, squinting his eyes in the thin light. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the fat mud streaked hog, laying half in and half out on its filthy bedding of straw-its ass end resting in the thick mud.
Something wasn't right with it, and Merle leaned over the fencing more, frowning. The piglets were pathetically trying to suckle from their mother, but the larger pig seemed completely oblivious to them, her side rising slowly up and down. He listened more intently; he could hear its labored breathing under the sounds of the piglets squealing as they jostled each other for milk that they were seemingly not getting.
The rain started to fall more persistently and heavily, already starting to soak through his torn khaki shirt, the fat icy droplets chill on his skin and plastering his hair to his head. Merle grimaced as he pushed himself away from the pig pen, and dragging his feet he headed back off towards the prison, badly wanting to see Carol, but fearing and not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do or say.
He only hoped that he hadn't fucked things up too much, yet again.
…
The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit him as soon as he made his way through the prison wing, and he stopped in surprise as he saw Glenn sat dejectedly at one of the tables, a steaming mug in front of him.
He stared at him for a moment, smirking, then he moved over to the small kitchen and made himself a mug of strong black coffee, wishing that they had some cream and sugar to put in it-but they didn't have any of those types of luxury, so Merle reluctantly took his mug and joined the Asian at the table.
"Why are ya lookin' so damn miserable, Kim?" he asked as he pulled up a chair and sat down, watching the other man humorously.
Glenn looked up and sighed, his fingers curling around his mug of coffee. "Somebody told Maggie what happened at the warehouse," he said grimacing. "I don't know who."
"Went an' got yer ass kicked from out'a yer cell, huh?" Merle smirked.
"You don't have to look so happy about it, Merle," Glenn retorted. "Looks like the same thing happened to you. Thought you were going to see Carol?"
Merle narrowed his eyes, "Maybe I changed my mind. I ain't gotta be going off an' runnin' after no woman," he grunted.
"Yeah," Glenn sighed again. "That's what I thought. You got kicked out too."
Merle looked at him thoughtfully. There wasn't any point arguing any different. Glenn could be a shrewd little fucker when he wanted to. "This, huh...happen much to ya?" he asked.
"What? Maggie acting like this? Kicking me out?"
He took a sip of his coffee, putting it down quickly as the hot liquid seared his lips. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, "Yeah."
"Not often, but it's happened in the past. Especially after Wood-"
"Glenn, don't ya go an' be bringing that up again," Merle scowled, sitting stiffly in his seat. He wasn't in the mood for Glenn to start on all that shit again.
Glenn blinked quickly, his fingers tightening around his mug. "I wasn't going to," he said quietly. "Just this with Maggie-I told you that she hates me going on supply runs as it is, and now this?" Glenn rubbed at his forehead tiredly.
"Yer a pussy letting yer woman act like that with ya," Merle said, raising his eyebrows. "Ye need to go an' tell her damn straight that ya ain't gonna be putting up with her shit."
Glenn spluttered on his coffee, droplets spraying from out of the corners of his mouth. He looked at Merle in amazement as he quickly wiped at his chin with the cuff of his shirt sleeve. "Do you even practice what you preach, Merle? Because from what I see, you're the one sat here drinking coffee with me."
Merle huffed sourly, "I had things to do."
"Sure you did," Glenn nodded slowly.
Merle glared at him. The Chinaman didn't know shit that was going on. None of this would have happened if it hadn't had been for that shitty Rick Grimes.
He glanced up quickly at the sound of footsteps, his lip curling angrily as he recognized the precise tread of those damned cowboy boots that Rick always wore. He watched as Grimes made his way towards them, Judith clutched tightly in his arms.
"Trying to settle her for the night," Rick said in way of explanation as he sat at a table next to them. His eyes met Merle's and Rick cocked his head to the side, his eyes fixed and watching him warily.
Merle got up and kicked his chair away from him. "I got better things to be doing than sitting here chewing the fat with you bunch'a assholes," he said, scoffing at the quick angry look Rick shot him, "Unless ya wanna make something out'a that too, huh Rick?"
Rick shook his head, "You need to stop this," he said quietly as he jigged the baby on his knee, his hand brushing at her hair. He raised his head and stared unblinkingly at him, "I don't know who the hell you think you are, Merle. But this has to stop. Now."
Merle huffed and shrugged his shoulders, "This will stop when ya quit being such a fuckin' idiot, Rick." He smirked as Rick made to push himself out of his seat, clutching Judith tighter. "But hell. I ain't seeing that's gonna be happening anytime soon."
"Dude," Glenn warned.
He grabbed at his mug of coffee and looked at Glenn, "Keep out'a this Chinaman. It ain't concerning you. Jus' me an' the good fuckin' sheriff." He turned his back on the both of them, pausing and glancing over his shoulder. "There's something wrong with yer pig, Rick. Surprised you ain't been gone and seen-since ya spend most of yer time with the fuckin' thing. Guess yer jus' used to being with yer own damn kind."
Rick looked at him angrily, and was seemingly about to answer him back when Judith grumbled loudly and sighing bitterly, Rick leaned down to her, ignoring Merle for the moment as he nursed the baby. "What's wrong? She was fine this morning," he asked eventually, glancing up at him.
"How the hell would I know? I ain't no damn animal doc. Ya need to get Hershel to look at yer hog," Merle retorted. "Last I heard he was the only goddamn vet in the prison, or ya been gone forgotten that?"
Rick frowned, "I'll see to it in the morning-" he stopped as Judith complained loudly again and he closed his eyes briefly to her shrill squawk of discomfort.
"Look's like yer in for a long night of it, an' I'd say I'd feel bad for ya- but we both know I'd be lying," Merle smiled smugly as he left the cafeteria, clutching the mug in his hand.
…
He stood outside her cell, eyeing the thick blanket at the doorway distrustfully. He couldn't hear no sounds from within, and he had no other way to gauge her mood. He held the mug between his chest and prosthetic arm as he awkwardly pushed aside the blanket, nearly dropping and spilling the contents over himself as he stepped in. From the look on her face, her mood hadn't changed much since he'd last seen her.
"Merle," she glowered, "What are you doing here? I thought I told you-"
"I know what ye told me, but I weren't about to go an' listen to you," he grunted as he stepped inside, grabbing at the mug with his hand as he let the blanket drape shut behind him. "I went an' got ya a coffee," he smiled, his eyes narrowing as she just glared back at him.
"I don't want any damn coffee," she said tightly.
He moved across the cell, placing the mug on the night-stand, thinking how ungrateful she was being-he was sharing his damn drink with her after all. He looked back at her-she hadn't moved much since earlier, only difference now was she was curled up leaning with her back to the wall, a blanket pulled loosely over her.
"Move yer ass," he rasped as he sat on the bunk next to her, stiffening and waiting for her to tell him to move and get the hell out of the cell. When she didn't, he let himself marginally relax and started tugging at the laces of his boots.
"Why is there only half a cup?" she asked suddenly, glancing at the mug that he'd brought with him. "I thought you said you'd got me a coffee?"
"An' I thought ya said ye didn't fuckin' want any. Quit it woman," he scowled. He kicked his boots off, and moved up the bunk, nudging her with his arm and ignoring the fact that she still seemed to be bristling with annoyance from earlier. "If ya don't want it, jus' give it back."
She reached across and took the mug from the night-stand, looking at him and raising it to her mouth. She took a long swig from it, her eyes watching him brightly through a sudden rise of steam, and Merle found himself leaning forward a little and watching in fascination as she lowered the mug and wiped at her lips with her fingers.
She looked at him and shook her head, and he could see the little smile she was trying to fight. She passed the mug back to him, and he nearly dropped it as her fingers brushed softly against his, tingling his skin pleasantly. "I missed you," he growled suddenly.
Carol sighed, the frown back on her face, "You have a strange way of showing it, Merle."
He huffed as he drank the coffee, the bitter tang almost refreshing on his tongue. He looked at her and smirked as he placed the mug on the floor- he could think of other things alot more refreshing on his tongue than damn stupid coffee. He leaned across and grabbed at her arm, pulling her to him, scowling at her as she resisted.
"I'm still upset with you," she warned.
"What's fuckin' new?" he grunted in answer.
She sighed again as she leaned into him, and he wrapped his arm around her as she laid her head on his shoulder, his fingers smoothing across her arm. He kissed the top of her head, moving away slightly as she glanced up at him, and he grimaced at the sight of unexpected tears misting the blues of her eyes. She raised her hand and stroked his cheek with her fingertips, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. His hand tightened on her as he moved his mouth softly over hers, pulling her more firmly to him as he touched at her lips with his tongue, frowning as she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back.
"Rick didn't do anything wrong, Merle. I don't know why you had to act like you did with him."
"Have we really gotta go an' talk about that asshole, huh? There's a lot more things you can be doing with that pretty little mouth of yours than talking about him," Merle said petulantly. Fucking Rick Grimes. Seemed like the asshole was determined to ruin things, even when he wasn't damn well there.
Carol raised her eyebrows, "Yes, Merle" she said quietly, resting her head to his chest, "We do have to talk about that."
He curled his arm around her and leaned his back further to the wall. "I don't want to. I'd rather we were doing other things that ain't got no need for any damn talking."
"Merle," she said softly.
"What?" he rasped. "I'm only saying how I'm seeing it, darlin'. Ya know ya want me." To be truthful, he was surprised how things were turning out. He'd really expected her to just kick his ass out, and now that she hadn't-he was wondering just how far he could push things and what exactly he could get away with.
"Maybe," she admitted reluctantly. "Merle, Rick knows about the lessons, the knives... everything. Carl told him."
"Ah fuck," Merle said in surprise, "What the hell did he say?"
"To be honest, I was surprised by how well he took things. He accepted it, which makes me think," she frowned against him. "I don't know if I trust him."
"I ain't never trusted him," he said tightly. He glanced down at her, "Is that what you were discussing, when I walked in on the both of ya?"
"You didn't walk in on anything. Jesus. That earlier? I don't know what the hell you were thinking, but you were so damn wrong."
"I weren't to know," he scowled.
"You need to trust me. I care for you, Merle," she said, pushing away from him again and ignoring the pissed expression on his face.
He twisted his head away from her bright earnest gaze, staring at the far wall. "I ain't never had anyone care for me like ya do," he admitted reluctantly. "An' I'll be honest with ya mouse. It scares me, alright?" The words soured his mouth, but he knew that he had to tell her, even though he wasn't used to sharing stuff like this with no woman. It hadn't ever happened before, and he didn't think he could ever go through it all over again.
"I went through enough of that crap with Ed. The anger, the hurt, the jealousies... I won't make the same mistake twice."
He turned his head sharply at that, staring at her, "I ain't him," he spat out. "I keep tellin' ya that I would never hurt ya, an' I wouldn't darlin'."
She met his gaze firmly, "Then we both need to start learning to trust each other."
Merle watched her, she was right. Again. They'd both been through enough shit, that it was no wonder that they were like they were. Damaged. But he badly wanted to learn and to trust her- she compelled him in a way that nobody else ever did. He knew that he cared for her as much as she seemed to care for him, which constantly surprised him, and he knew that he loved her, for the first time in his life he knew what it felt like-but he could never tell her that he did. It just wasn't who he was.
He stiffened in wonder as she reached out to him, her hands clasping about his prosthetic and pulling him closer. He looked at her, frowning, but she didn't meet his gaze, instead she ran her fingers up his prosthetic, her fingertips trailing against his skin, before she started unbuckling the leather straps. He wanted to flinch away from her-what she was doing was starting to make him feel damned uncomfortable, but he knew that he had to start trusting her sometime.
She smiled softly at him as the last buckle was undone, and she looked at him in question, waiting for him to say something before she slid the prosthetic away and from off his stumped arm. She had seen him without it more times than he could think, but something about this made him feel more vulnerable than usual. Her hand grasped at his skin, her fingers flexing over to where his wrist should have been, and he swallowed quickly as she raised his arm and pressed her lips softly to his skin.
It always seemed that she confounded him-just when he'd thought he'd got her all figured out she would go and do something that he didn't expect-and this was one of the those moments. She clasped his stumped arm in her hands, holding it loosely in her lap and looking up at him with those pretty blue eyes of hers.
He wished that he could tell her just how much he damn well cared for her, but even as he tried, the words clumped thickly in his throat. Instead, he moved against her, wrapping his stump around her waist and cupping her head with his hand.
He took a deep breath, "I want to trust ya, okay? An' I'll try honey. I'll try with ya. I don't want to lose you, not now, not anytime." He risked a quick glance at her, wondering if she was just going to laugh at him for being a pussy, feeling surprised when she only gave him a small soft smile. She leaned into him, her hands pushing against his shirt.
"Merle? Why is your shirt wet?" she frowned. "You need to take it off. You're going to catch a chill."
"Huh. Any excuse to get me to take my damn clothes off. Ya ain't got to try an' be so sneaky about it darlin', ya know I'm gonna let ya," he smirked.
She blushed a little at that, and Merle mused to himself, that no matter how embarrassed she seemed over that, she was still trying to tug his shirt off. And no way in hell was he about to go and stop her either.
She dropped his wet shirt to the floor and slipped her arms around his neck as he inched closer to her, pressing his face to the softness of her throat. Her fingers grazed across the nape of his neck, her fingertips trailing through his hair. He kissed her throat, trailing his tongue across her jaw until he found her mouth and he smiled against her as she kissed him back with a passion that was equal to the fire that was building up and speeding through his veins.
As he lowered her to the mattress, his body firm and hard against hers, pressing against her and letting her know how badly he wanted and ached for her, desperately wanting to prove that even though he could never say those few pitiful words-that he did love her. And he would show her just how much. He knew that the chance of either of them getting much sleep that night was going to be remote-he had missed her too much and he didn't give a single damn if any of this made him a pussy.
He wanted her, and she wanted him and that was all he damn well cared about.
...