Notes:

I know next to nothing about hunting or cleaning game so first off, sorry if I made mistakes about the way it's gone about. I did a little looking up about it, but I'm sure I got things wrong. To be honest I'm against hunting unless it's necessary and/or you use as much as possible on the animal. ANYWAY, personal opinions aside, there is description of hunting and getting meat from the animal's body in this chapter. Just thought I would warn in case that makes some readers uncomfortable!

Hopefully the second chapter lives up to expectations.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2:

A twig snapped somewhere off to his right, probably a few dozen yards away or so. Rick swung his head in that direction, ignoring the sweat that rolled down his forehead and dangled at the end of his nose. Shrilling tweets from birds in the trees above were the only other sound he could hear, and he strained his ears in order to pinpoint where the stick had broken. For a few moments he sat and listened, hearing nothing. Surely he hadn't scared his prey off? Creeping forward in a crouched position, he parted a shrub that lay in front of him.

In the clearing beyond was the doe, her ears flicking in agitation. So he hadn't scared her off, he realized with a sense of relief. But she was certainly alerted to his presence. Her glistening black eyes were fixed at a point off to Rick's left and she was standing stock-still, barely breathing. Steading himself, Rick raised the hunting rifle as slowly as possible.

Before he had even leveled the weapon a sharp whistling sound whizzed through the air. Rick was able to see the arrow a second before it made impact with the deer, going straight through the poor creature's neck. "Daryl," he cursed, though he wasn't really annoyed the other man had stolen his kill.

The deer bucked, eyes widening as it thrashed in agony. An additional whistling and the arrow had a companion, another bolt joining the first, lodging itself firmly in the doe's neck. The flailing slowed and the deer buckled, falling to the forest floor with a pained grunt. It was then that Daryl approached with his hunting knife, striding forward quickly. With an efficiency Rick knew he would never possess, the archer slit the dying animal's neck in order to end its misery. Blood gushed from the wound, but Daryl ignored the gore, instead going to work getting his arrows out of the doe and returning them to his quiver.

"I had the shot," he said, standing up from his crouch.

Daryl looked at him over his shoulder, and Rick could have sworn he saw a good natured smirk there. "Ya snooze ya lose," the hunter quipped.

Rick shook his head as he approached. "More like you just want all the glory."

Daryl snorted. "Right."

"Oh Mr. Dixon, you're so big and strong." Rick raised his voice into a falsetto and batted his eyelashes. He wasn't sure who he was imitating, but he knew it would annoy his friend all the same.

"Shut up," Daryl huffed, and Rick was certain the other man was rolling his eyes.

Rick wasn't convinced that Daryl was irritated enough with him yet. Raising his voice into an even higher pitch, he continued with, "Oh Mr. Dixon, could you teach me to hunt like you?"

The archer fully turned at that, a grimace of distaste on his lips. "Ya make an ugly girl."

A bark of laughter escaped him.

The hunter smirked at him, both men sharing a good-natured smile before Daryl was turning around again, his hunting knife unsheathed. Without preamble, Daryl plunged the knife into the deer, making cuts around the legs. Rick watched with disgusted interest as the archer moved on to making incisions along the interior of the legs before cutting open the chest to connect the slices. He moved with practiced ease, once again ignoring the blood that flowed over his hands and pushing past the entrails in order to begin collecting the meat.

He felt useless standing there doing nothing. Daryl preferred to do this alone, he knew, and didn't appreciate Rick's sloppy efforts. So with a sigh, he took a better hold on his rifle and paced the perimeter of the clearing, keeping guard.

A few times Daryl muttered incoherently and once Rick caught a, "Would'a been easier to string her up", but other than that the archer worked quietly, ignoring Rick. It was peaceful out there in the woods, and if he pretended hard enough, Rick could believe it was before the dawn of walkers and he and Daryl were old friends out on a hunting trip. It was a fantasy that brought a content warmth to his heart.

"Done," Daryl grunted after a while.

The scene wasn't pretty. Blood was spattered all over the forest's floor, the deer's body mutilated. Daryl had packed the meat into two backpacks they had brought along with, one for each of them to carry. He knew from previous hunts that the archer had removed the bones from the meat in order to lessen the weight of the load, and Rick was grateful for that.

Shouldering the backpacks, the two men shared a nod before setting off towards Alexandria. They were about four miles from the town, a far enough trek to give Rick some anxiety about the distance and all that could happen on their way back. But the hike was short enough that he knew the two of them could get back home before noon. It would be a highly productive day, giving Rick time to work on other chores when they got back.

While Alexandria's food stores weren't necessarily low after trading with the Hilltop, hunting for food was a way they could conserve. And Rick was practical, knew Daryl needed space and freedom in order to stay sane. Hunting was a way for Daryl to get out and let him feel like he was actively contributing. The benefits outweighed the danger, though these hunting outings certainly did bring the leader a fair bit of unease. Anything could happen. The world they lived in now was more uncertain than ever. But Daryl needed this, dangers aside. It was the right decision, in the end.

And, in the deepest recesses of his mind, Rick knew he craved these outings as much as Daryl. Of course, it was for different reasons. He yearned for one on one time with the solitary hunter, needed the connected feeling he got from the other man. It was so similar to how he felt when he was Jesus, but also so different. He was addicted to both men. He knew, deep down, that Paul was right. He loved both of them.

But Daryl could never ever know.

So Rick would be Daryl's best friend, his brother, if that was all he could have. It was better than nothing.

….

They took a break when they reached the stream that ran about a mile from Alexandria's walls. Sweat was in every crevice of their bodies, the Virginia summer heat and humidity wreaking havoc on them. Daryl sat fully in the stream, rubbing at his bloodied limbs, cleaning off the gore from the deer. The water stained a deep crimson, and Rick pushed back a shiver when the horrifying thought of it being Daryl's blood in the stream somehow entered his mind, rather than it being the animal's.

Morbid thoughts like that had become more and more frequent. Jesus had effectively put the fear of death in him again with his 'you never know what could happen' speeches. While Rick was always afraid that his family may be injured or killed, the fear had numbed over the months without a recent loss. Alexandria was softening him, he knew. And it was dangerous. But now his constant worry was back, his protective drive in full force once more.

Rick shook his head, trying to dislodge the troubling thoughts in his mind. He bent, cupping his hands to take a drink of the cool liquid. He couldn't shake his thoughts, but they took a different, acceptable turn. Rick took note of the comfortable silence between them, one that had lasted the entire three miles they had already traveled. There was no need to fill the quiet with meaningless words. There was no need to talk. They seemed to speak in nonverbal nods, hand gestures, and shared smiles. It was a relationship Rick hadn't experienced with a friend before (Jesus didn't count, as he was his lover). Shane, who he had believed to be his best friend in the world, had come nowhere near what he and Daryl had. And when they did talk to one another, no matter how small the words, how short the conversation, each interaction felt weighted in a good way. It was as if each syllable shared between them was precious, not to be wasted.

Sighing, Rick sat along the bank of the stream and worked his boots off in order to dangle his bare feet into the water. It felt amazing. Another sigh escaped his lips, a pleased, content sound. He closed his eyes, though the buzz of 'danger! potential danger!' went off like warning bells in his mind when he did so.

"Rick?"

The archer's voice was quiet, didn't startle him. Without opening his eyes, Rick responded. "Yeah?"

"Negan. When are we goin' ta make the move on his camp?"

Was Daryl worried about the raid, or simply curious? It was difficult to discern what mood Daryl was in. Rick opened his eyes finally, looking at his companion's face. The hunter didn't look troubled, but Rick knew from experience that the other man hid his emotions well.

Rick was hesitant to answer. His family hadn't agreed on a date, and Rick was loathe to make an executive decision. They were all eager to end Negan's threat, but uncharacteristically anxious about making a move. Rick wondered if it was because they seemed to have found a permanent home, felt that there was more at stake than ever before. "We'll have a meeting at the end of the week about it. We need to make that decision. As a group." He nodded at the words.

Daryl answered his nod. "'Prolly better to do it sooner than later. Don't want 'em to get wind of us, or our plan."

"You think someone from the Hilltop will betray us?" It was such dramatic language, it made him internally cringe. 'Betray'. But isn't that what it would be? A complete betrayal of their allies.

Daryl contemplated the question for a few seconds before shrugging. "Ya never know."

Rick was startled badly by the three simple words. His chest constricted. The words were so eerily similar to what Jesus had said. He fought for control, didn't want Daryl to notice how strange his reaction was. "Guess not," he choked out.

Silence resumed for a few minutes after that, and Rick was entirely relieved. It gave him time to calm down, to let the echo of Paul's words recede. He wasn't sure why Daryl repeating the words had shaken him so much. It was perplexing.

"How's that little shit of yours doing?" This time Daryl's voice did startle him, and not just because it was a sudden noise that disrupted the quiet. Was Daryl making small talk? It was so unlike the archer. Not that Daryl didn't care about his children, but he wasn't normally known to outright ask questions like that. He showed his interest and concern in less obvious ways. What was Daryl up to?

"Which one?" Rick answered, and they both shared a chuckle.

Rick paused a beat, collecting his thoughts, before truly answering. "Carl's actually in a pretty good place. Isn't letting it bring him down." Remembering his fear from the night Carl had lost his eye, of the brutal onslaught against the horde of walkers and the rising of the Alexandrians, Rick ran a hand through his hair. He had been wrong about the citizens of Alexandria. They did have what it took to survive. But he had also been wrong about their safety. Even Alexandria's walls couldn't keep them secure. That, coupled with Jesus and his speeches, had made Rick more alert than he had been in weeks. Perhaps if he had been that way before, Carl wouldn't have been so badly injured. Maybe he would have seen the danger Ron posed.

Just as guilt began to swarm his mind, Daryl spoke. "Don't do that. It's not your fault. Carl don't blame ya. No one does."

A grim smile twisted his lip. He was thankful for Daryl's words, but it didn't mean he took them to heart. "Thanks," he said anyway, and Daryl nodded at him. Rick leaned forward, pulling his feet from the water and putting his boots back on. "Should we get goin'?" he asked.

Daryl nodded and rose out of the stream, not seeming to care that his clothes were sopping wet. Was it his imagination, or did Daryl almost reluctantly shoulder his pack full of meat? Rick couldn't be sure, tried to read the little nonverbal information the hunter was giving. Why would Daryl be disinclined to leave? Perhaps he didn't want to return to Alexandria's walls, didn't look forward to being confined once more. That was probably it.

….

Rick began to feel his fearful tension ease when he caught sight of Alexandria's walls in the distance. They would be home in less than five minutes, and both he and Daryl would be safe. Well, for the most part, Rick reminded himself. Even Alexandria's walls couldn't keep out everything. They were always in danger in this new world.

"Got a pretty good haul," Rick commented as he readjusted the straps on his pack. He felt the need to linger in this moment, when Daryl was his and only his.

The archer nodded with a quiet grunt of agreement.

If Rick wasn't mistaken, he could almost see Daryl sinking into himself, putting up the protective shell he used when around others. But there was something else…almost like Daryl was pouting. Rick almost laughed at that. The other man really wasn't looking forward to being confined behind the walls.

He turned away from facing Daryl and went to continue heading towards Alexandria. As he was passing through a copse of bushes, a rabbit darted out, intent on getting away from perceived danger. It startled Rick and he backed up, thinking the sudden movement was a walker or some equally as hostile creature. As he stumbled away, he lost his balance and fell to the dirt.

"Jesus, Rick," Daryl breathed, and when the leader turned to look at his friend he saw that Daryl had his crossbow out, his arm muscles straining with tension.

A shaky laugh escaped him. "Sorry." He rubbed his hands along his face, wiping at the sweat that had collected there. Letting out an unsteady breath, Rick closed his eyes and shook his head. "Can't believe it could be over that easy."

He heard Daryl shift, uneasy. "Nah Rick, ya would put up more of a fight than that."

The former lawman laughed again, a self-deprecating sound. He was about to respond with some sort of quip, but when he opened his eyes and turned to look at Daryl, the words caught in his throat.

Rick had never believed all that hogwash about time stopping, or stalling, or whatever people claimed happened whenever their life was in peril. He had faced death so many times and the clock had never slowed. But in that moment, Rick understood what people had meant. Possibly the difference for him was that his life wasn't in immediate danger. Rather, it was one of the men he loved that was facing death that caused his world to come to a screeching halt.

It wasn't often that his family let their guard down and were caught unaware by walkers. In fact, at this point in the apocalypse it was practically unheard of. Perhaps it was that they were both so engrossed in realizing their mortality. Or maybe it was an unusually quiet walker. For whatever reason, they hadn't noticed the straggler pacing steadily towards them, and now it was too late.

Gnashing teeth, spittle flying from a greedy and perilous mouth was all that Rick was able to notice before the walker had tumbled on top of Daryl. Jagged fingernails scrabbled at the hunter, desperately trying to find purchase in order to better latch its mouth on the human. Daryl didn't scream, didn't even gasp in fear. He was stoic from the moment the walker knocked him down to when the creature had its mouth mere inches from his face. The only way Rick could tell Daryl was facing any sort of crisis was the growl on his lips and the way his teeth were grit.

Rick was frozen in terror, watching as the man he desired so desperately for fought for his very life. The walker was too heavy, limbs flailing too wildly, for Daryl to reach the hunting knife that was sheathed on his hip. The deadly teeth were getting closer, undead strength able to match Daryl's adrenaline fueled struggles. Must have been a newly turned walker, no decay visible on its body. The solid form wasn't easily destroyed, the flesh still firm.

He couldn't move, was struck still by the depth of his terror. His mind screamed at him to move in order to help, in order to save Daryl. Why wasn't he moving?!

It wasn't until Daryl threw his head back in order to get his eyes on Rick, seeking out his companion. "Rick!" he hollered, and the distress and fear was so real, so unlike Daryl, that it finally spurred him to action.

Gripping his own knife in a tight grip, he stabbed the walker in the head, ending it in one effective stab. But the fear that skittered up and down his spine, that still prowled in his mind, made him insane in that moment, and he threw the walker's body off of Daryl and continued to stab. Five stabs, ten, twenty. The skull was a bloody, matted mess when suddenly Rick felt hands pulling him away, stopping the decimation of the walker's body.

"Rick, it's done," Daryl growled, his own fear still thick in his throat.

He wasn't in his right mind. He was strung out, felt like he was going to fall to pieces. Before Daryl could back away, he turned and grabbed him, enveloping him in a fierce hug. Rick could feel the archer's body stiffening, knew Daryl didn't like contact like this. In fact, the hunter didn't usually even tolerate it.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I took too long. You could'a been dead." The words were spilling out of his mouth, Rick unable to stop them. Daryl began to fidget in his arms, clearly uncomfortable with their proximity.

But he didn't pull away.

An awkward hand patted his back. "It's okay. I'm good." Daryl's attempt at soothing him was appreciated, but did nothing to ease the guilt and horror that was filling him.

"It's not okay, it's not okay. It's not."

….

When they were behind Alexandria's walls, Rick sought out the unoccupied home he and Jesus used. Normally Rick wanted to be in the house he shared with his family, but at that moment he needed space, time alone to calm down. With shaking hands, he undressed, heading for the shower. The water was soothing, the scalding temperature a punishment for his lack of action in the critical moment that the walker had showed up, for almost letting Daryl die. Rick turned his face into the spray, gritting his teeth against the burn of the water on his face.

After his shower, he tumbled into his and Jesus' bed, gripping the sheet and taking a big whiff, searching out the comforting scent of his lover. His body hadn't stopped trembling, and Rick was alarmed to realize he was crying, his chest heaving with huge sobs. It made sense, though. He had almost lost Daryl today, and much of the blame lay on him. His distraction from falling, his slow response time. It could have all been over. He could have lost one of his family members. He could have lost his best friend. He could have lost… one of the men that he loved.

Rick cried for a long time.

….

"Daaaaaad," Carl complained, pushing at Rick's chest.

It was the third hug he had given his son that night and the teen was starting to get tired of the mushy affection. Rick couldn't help it. The realization that Daryl had almost died scared him so badly. He needed to show those closest to him how much they meant to him. So with a smile, Rick hung on, refusing to let Carl escape quickly.

"I love you, Carl," he murmured, only loud enough for his son to hear. He enjoyed embarrassing him, but there was an extent to his teasing. Rick could imagine his son's reaction if he had said the words loud enough for others to overhear.

Carl huffed, but Rick caught the small smile on his son's face. "Love you too, dad. Now get off me!"

Rick allowed the boy to pull away just as Michone entered the room saying, "Aw, how sweet." The tone of her voice indicated she was aiming at poking fun at Carl, but Rick knew she really did find the scene sentimental. With an indignant groan, Carl stomped away, the tips of his ears flaming red with embarrassment.

"Someone's sulking." Michone had a small smile on her face, but Rick didn't miss the concern in her tone.

"Aw, he's just mad you caught him bein' sweet."

She leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over her chest. "I didn't mean Carl."

An eyebrow rose in a play at nonchalance, but Rick felt an anxious churning begin in his gut. He wasn't a fool – he knew who she meant.

"You two get along fine out there?" she asked.

He wondered if she had ran into Daryl already, had seen what kind of mood the archer had been in. Rick knew Michone's question was worded carefully in order to cover all bases. She meant getting along together personally, as well as if they had encountered other problems. She had always been clever, he'd give her that. "There was no need to say anythin'," he said with a shrug.

A frown creased her mouth and deep furrows appeared between her brows. "You would want to know if any of us had trouble. Rick, we care about you."

The former lawman ran a hand through his curls. "I know that."

"Then talk to me."

He let out an exasperated sigh, not appreciating the attention. "Wasn't a big deal." But it had been. A fresh wave of shame washed over him, filling his gut with disgust for himself. And the fear was back, chilling his entire body. "Didn't notice a walker, an' it almost bit Daryl. Shook us up a bit."

Michone nodded, lips in a grim line. "It's dangerous out there."

Why was she stating the obvious? Was she urging him to divulge more? Rick wasn't certain, couldn't read the expression on her face. "Just can't believe we could lose someone so easily. So quickly," he expanded, hoping that would appease her. At her compassionate gaze, Rick felt his chest loosening. He could tell Michone. She would understand. "An' Daryl is probably upset with me," he admitted, the shame reaching a crescendo. "I froze…and he almost died because of it."

She straightened, no longer leaning on the wall. At her approach, Rick felt himself internally recoiling, believing he didn't deserve her sympathy. She put both hands on each of his shoulders, staring at him until he finally looked into her eyes. "Rick, he isn't mad at you." She smiled, squeezing his shoulders gently. "If anything, he's going through the same thing you are. Realizing it could have been you, that you could have died."

Rick shook his head. "No. I didn't even move until it was almost too late. I watched as that walker almost…" He couldn't finish the sentence, felt the sting of tears burn his eyes.

Michone's right hand cupped his cheek, an intimate move that startled him. "Trust me, he isn't mad at you." She smiled again, an encouraging and bolstering expression that made his heart constrict. "Everyone has a moment in life when they freeze, Rick. You got through yours. Just don't let it happen again." Her voice was soft, soothing, but her message was clear.

"I won't," he promised, pulling her in for a tight hug.

….

It was a relief when Jesus showed up with a small group of Hilltop members in the middle of the week. Despite Michone's assurances that Daryl wasn't upset with him, the hunter had been avoiding him, or at least it felt like it. Daryl's behavior hurt. Rick knew he deserved the treatment, but he also yearned for the hunter's company, missed the loss of his best friend's companionship. Talking, working, and spending time with the rest of his family helped, of course, and he had been paying more attention to his own children, but he still longed for someone who understood him at his core. And the only two people who knew him that way seemed to always just be out of reach.

So it was with exuberance that Rick greeted the group when they arrived, welcoming the Hilltop members to Alexandria. They had come to trade, swap information, and check up on their plan of attack for Negan's compound. After the obligatory polite conversations, Rick quickly steered Jesus away from the others, heading straight for the home they had made their own. He was careful enough to make sure they weren't followed or spotted, but his pace was quick, making Jesus laugh at his antics.

When the front door slammed behind them, Rick desperately grabbed at Jesus, pulling him in for a frantic kiss. Their tongues met, tangling together in a wild dance of passion and desire. Rick pinned Jesus' hands against the door, holding him steady as he ravished the other man's mouth. Jesus put up no resistance and angled his head, allowing Rick to control the kiss further. He couldn't get his tongue in far enough, couldn't get his body pressed up close enough. Rick felt undone, needed to show Jesus how much he cared, how much he wanted the other man. Releasing the Hilltop man's hands, Rick began working at his belt. There was no time. He needed to claim Jesus right now.

Jesus worked at his own pants, kicking them off and baring everything below the waist for Rick's starving eyes. Dropping to his knees, Rick grasped the hardened length of his lover and began to lick sensuous stripes along the tip, teasing and torturing in the way he knew Jesus loved. The other man gasped with pleasure and took hold of Rick's hair, clamping on to the thick curls and pulling hard. Rick took the hint and spread his lips, taking the cock fully into his mouth. He wasn't as good as Jesus at oral sex. But his lover never complained, simply seemed to appreciate the effort. And oh, did Rick put effort into his blowjobs.

He ran his tongue along the underside of the flesh, adding intense suction whenever Jesus seemed to grow too comfortable. As he worked his mouth over Jesus' cock, Rick fumbled around in his pants pocket, finding the lube he had stashed there when he had heard the news Jesus had arrived at Alexandria.

When he felt Jesus trembling, his breath coming out in frantic gulps, he pulled away, ignoring the whine from his lover. He had spread the lube over his own straining length while he had been sucking Jesus, so there was no more time spared on foreplay. He spun Jesus, the Hilltop man planting his palms against the door with anxiously excited intakes of breath. Without preparation, Rick began to push inside. He did so slowly, however. No matter how rough he and his lover got during sex, Rick was always sure not to hurt him. He needn't have worried, however. With a grunt of frustration, Jesus jerked his body back, encouraging Rick to go deeper, obviously able to take his length despite the lack of stretching beforehand.

The tight grip of Jesus' body on his cock made him growl with heightened arousal. He took hold of the smaller man's hips, urging Jesus to stand on his tiptoes to help with the angle of his thrusts. Jesus threw his head back, seeking Rick's mouth for a zealous kiss, one that was full of tongue and nipping teeth. They rocked together, finding their synchronized and perfect rhythm right there against the front door until Rick was screaming out his lover's name while Jesus bit down hard on his own arm, stifling his own cries.

It was over too quickly, always too quickly. But as they tumbled into the living room, kissing fervently, Rick knew it was going to be a long night, and that had just been the first of many orgasms.

….

It was several hours later when they finally lay still in their bed, curling together in an exhausted heap. While Jesus was younger than Rick, they were both at an age when so much sex didn't come easily anymore. It truly had been a hell of a night. They were dozing, enjoying the silence and the comfortable presence of one another. Hands intertwined, Rick flexed his fingers and was pleased when he felt Jesus' answering squeeze.

Drifting in a sea of calm and the feeling of belonging made Rick feel happy in a way he hadn't felt in years. He and Lori had been on the downslide for a long while, even before the age of the walkers. They loved each other, sure. And it wasn't like they were fighting every night. But the passion for one another had dwindled, and no longer had their common interests seemed so strong.

His job had also become stale. Rick had loved being a police officer. Loved it. There was nothing like taking down a criminal, or helping someone who truly needed it. But the cycle of cases had grown old, the bullshit bureaucracy only added to frustration, and the flawed justice system had put him into a state of despair.

And his life had become…boring. The same routine day in and day out, the distance growing between him and Lori, his hobbies no longer interesting. It was all a depressing spiral without any kick. Everything was so lackluster. He didn't have problems with his boss or coworkers, he and Lori didn't fight outright. It was terrible how he had craved some sort of friction with some aspect of his life, even if it had been negative. At least it would have made something change. Rick hadn't admitted his feelings to anyone – not even to Shane. He had trudged along, hoping that it was a phase in his life that would have passed if he ignored it long enough.

But then the apocalypse had happened, changing everything. The end of the world was awful – fear was a constant and death was a well-known companion. People had turned into savages. So many lives had been lost.

And yet… In a sick and twisted way, Rick was thankful for the walkers. Without them he wouldn't have gotten Judith. He wouldn't have found his new family. And he wouldn't have met Daryl or Jesus. The thought made the former lawman's gut twist with terror.

Rick really appreciated life now, wasn't just going through the motions. It was a precious gift, and every job or task he was set with was meaningful. He never was bored in the new world, never felt like his life was wasting away. He truly mattered to his family, his actions affected them. Everything had changed.

The new world made a person truly appreciate moments like the one he was having with Jesus, made them ingrain it in their memory to really cherish. The walkers had made relationships meaningful again. People meant more. Bonds unlike any he had ever known were forged during the end of the world.

It was uncomfortable to feel even an iota of positivity about an event that had cost him so much, that had affected other people so much. So many innocent people had died, had had their lives changed for the worse. Rick himself had lost people he dearly loved. And it could end up costing him much more in the future.

"What're you thinking about?"

Jesus' voice shook him from his thoughts. Rick realized his eyes were open, fixed up at the ceiling, but were unseeing. His hand had clenched, closing around Jesus' fingers with what Rick was sure was a painful pressure. Releasing his lover's hand, he sighed. He rolled on his side so he could face Jesus head on. "You were right."

A small smile met that. "I always am. But about what?"

"'Ya never know what can happen', is what ya told me, and I brushed you off." Rick's brow scrunched in displeasure with himself. "I almost lost Daryl this week," he admitted, his lips in a taut line.

Jesus' smile fell and he snuggled up closer, grabbing at Rick's hands and reconnecting them.

"A walker almost got 'im, and I just sat there." His voice had become gravelly and his eyes stung with unshed tears. Humiliation was lava burning in his gut, eating a hole through his body. Jesus gently shushed him and grabbed his head, pulling Rick in close and cradling him against his chest. His lover's earthy scent was so soothing. Rick never wanted to pull away.

"That must have been terrifying. I'm sorry Rick." He planted a chaste kiss on the top of the older man's curls.

"It was…" he began, and with shock, Rick realized that the emotions that had coursed through him during the moment Daryl had almost perished had been akin to what he felt when Lori had died. He had almost lost his sanity when his wife died, and Rick was sure he might have again if Daryl had died that day. "…horrible," he finished lamely.

He almost felt like he was betraying Lori with his thoughts, but the rest of him pushed the idea away. In all honesty, the connection he had with Jesus and Daryl rivaled what he'd had with his wife. The end of the world had made bonds with others so meaningful. When you found a true companion it was honest and raw. Nothing was superficial. The apocalypse had forced interactions and connections that couldn't have happened before the turn of the world. What he and Lori had before had been special, but different. In fact, it couldn't even really be compared to what he had with Jesus and Daryl. Their relationship was on an entirely different spectrum. So really, why did he even allow himself the idea of feeling slighlty guilty?

With a frustrated huff, he forced himself to get out of his own head and exist in the present. With Jesus. "It was horrible," he repeated, knowing the measly words didn't encompass everything he had felt. "And you were right," he said again.

"Sometimes we forget, get too comfortable behind our walls," Jesus agreed, his hands a comfortable weight around Rick's body, holding him close.

Despite the reassuring position, Rick pulled away so that he could look his lover in the eye. "That's not all, though."

Jesus cocked his head. "Oh?"

"I think I need to tell him how I feel." The words almost made him cringe. He really, really, didn't want to tell Daryl. He was so afraid of the reaction, of losing their easy friendship.

Without a victorious smile or whoop of laughter at the admission, Jesus nodded, solemnly serious. Rick hadn't expected that. "You probably should," he agreed. "Don't want to lose your chance and be left wondering the rest of your life."

He should have known Jesus would know the feelings that resided in his heart without him needing to voice them. A warm smile creased his mouth. But worry tickled and nagged at the back of his mind all the same. The smile quickly fell away. "Paul?"

Sensing that he was feeling vulnerable, Jesus sat up, turning to fully face Rick, giving his wholehearted attention.

"Ya really don't care?" He ignored the trembling in his voice.

His heart skipped a beat when Jesus didn't immediately react. But then Jesus was kissing him deeply, laughter bubbling from his lips. Rick felt that he should be offended, but couldn't find the emotion in him amongst all the relief.

"Rick, I already told you. I could see you loved Daryl before you even noticed me."

The Alexandria leader felt himself nodding. He knew how much Jesus surveyed things, took in the people and situation before he made a move. It didn't surprise him that Jesus had watched him for some time before deciding to approach Rick about a sexual relationship. Jesus would have seen the way he looked at Daryl, would have realized. He didn't have blinders on because he wasn't part of the family…yet.

Jesus continued. "And I told you I don't mind sharing. I want to get to know him too. He's obviously a catch if Rick Grimes pines after him so much." He laughed, finding the situation amusing.

But Rick sensed an uncertainty despite the confidence. Jesus was always so sure of himself. He knew what he wanted and didn't mess around. But Rick had peeled back the layers, seen what the other man was like in private, had discovered different facets just like he had with Daryl. And Rick understood the look in Jesus' eye in that moment, and he felt his heart shattering.

He snatched at the locks of his lover's hair and tugged hard, pulling them together in a kiss. Rick wanted to bare his soul to this man, share a piece of his heart with him. He didn't deserve Jesus and his kindness, his understanding.

They pulled apart, panting heavily. Before lust could derail the conversation, Rick spoke up. "Even if by some chance Daryl said yes, I would never leave you." Jesus tried to speak up, began stammering, but Rick sprung up, pinning him to the bed and knocking the wind out of him. "Paul, this ain't easy for me ta say. I'm actually scared to even…" Rick let out a harsh breath once more, irritated with himself and his fear. He looked at Jesus, trying to man up and say what needed to be said.

He was unnerved by the intensity in which Paul was looking at him, felt speared through the heart with the sheer adoration in his lover's eyes. Rick didn't deserve him. He really didn't. Rick leaned down, close, lost in the moment, effectively pushing away his fear as he had done many times before. "I love you, Paul. I love you so much. I can't remember the last time I was so happy."

The words were so irritatingly meaningless. They didn't carry the strength, the depth of emotion that Rick truly felt in his heart. It was so frustrating that he couldn't vocalize how much he cared, that the words couldn't truly express how much he cared for Jesus. It was like he had found a piece of his own soul in the other man. It was as if he hadn't truly been living before he met Paul. And now…he was halfway there to being complete.

But it didn't seem to matter. Jesus, in his infinite wisdom and his total understanding of Rick, seemed to know what he was trying to say. A soft smile lit up his lover's face and then he was pulling Rick close for a gentle kiss. It may have been a soft touch, but it was brimming with electricity, a sizzling passion and sensual current of feeling that Rick knew they were both experiencing.

"And I love you, Rick Grimes," Paul whispered when they pulled apart, the warm smile still gracing his lips.

It was enough to brace him, to make him ready to voice his request. Rick knew he couldn't risk losing Jesus. He had witnessed Daryl's close demise, and he didn't think he could bear it not to have Jesus close by where he could protect him any longer.

"Come live here. With me. Please." He pretended not to hear the desperation that peppered his voice.

The smile slowly fell, replaced by a guarded expression. Paul was…uncomfortable by his words. For the first time since he had considered asking Jesus to move, Rick suddenly felt uncertain of the answer his lover would give him. "Well?" he prompted when Jesus continued not to say anything.

The Hilltop member frowned, locked eyes with Rick and slowly, but clearly, answered with, "No."