What did living even mean? Arron's entry would have continued. Life is full of ups and downs. The fates liked to throw hard balls with the intention of hitting you right in where it hurt. The heavens liked to remind you that even the most beat up heart could still have room for one more scar.
Arron's hands slipped under filthy clothes, caressing firm abs as the shirt went up reveling sun kissed skin.
Was living just watching the life you choose play out? Were we just players in a game of choices and consequences? If so, what choice did we make to deserve the hell we had to live, then and now?
Arron's button down was yanked down his shoulders as Daryl mumbled over the amount of clothes the man wore on a normal day.
Perhaps Living mean just breathing in polluted fumes and understanding everything use to be different in the past.
Arron chuckled at Daryl's frustration, leaning in to deliver a bruising, messy kiss to already swollen lips.
Whatever Living meant…
Daryl moaned into the kiss.
I'm going to find out.
Daryl fumbled as he gripped Arron's long sleeve in his frustration, pulling it roughly over the brunette's head, tossing it to the side.
Because I have something to live for. Always have. And the world going to hell wasn't going to change that.
Jeans joined the pile of clothing off to the side.
I won't let this hell take that away from me. If Arron had actually wrote his entry on paper, this last sentence would have broken the pen or pencil with the amount of force Arron had made in the promise.
"Why are we siphoning gas from your truck again?" Arron asked as he stuck a hose, the end someone had scribbled a line of red ink on to tell everyone which side goes in the tank, into the bulky trucks gas tank.
"'cause Shane says they needed more gas in on' of tha cars used for runs." Daryl explained again to Arron.
"But, why yours?" the man whined. He liked the truck it was roomy and held a lot of stuff.
"'cause I got the motorcycle." Daryl shrugged.
"You mean, Merle has a motorcycle," Arron was muttering to himself, putting the other end of the hose to his mouth, "and God forbid, we siphon the gas from Merle's shit." Arron tried not to think about how many mouths had been on the hose as he drew in a deep breath through his mouth. He sucked the end, after releasing the air from his lungs, like a it was a fine cigar.
Daryl didn't say anything, just watched the man, holding out the jerrycan when the man's face scrunched up in distaste. Was it wrong to get turned on by this? Daryl knew how good Arron's suckling game was from experience.
Arron quickly moved the hose to the opening of the gas container, even as he was spitting the gasoline in his mouth to the side. "Yuck," Arron complained, "remind me never to do that again." Arron spit again to the side. "That taste is going to be in my mouth forever."
"You say that every time, Pa," Daryl idly said as he watched the precious gas go into the container, "but you still won't let me do it."
"That's because it's gross."
Daryl hummed in response as he pulled the hose out, tapping the lip of the jerrycan with the tip. It wasn't a lot, but it will have to do. The truck, like all the others vehicles they had, was running low on gasoline.
Arron spent most of the day dramatically spitting in Shane's direction the first day of Rick and Shane's agreement, much to Daryl's amusement and Shane's discussed.
The second day of the agreement, Arron happen to be walking by the vehicles to borrow the Greene's shower at the same time Lori was walking up to Glen and Maggie.
"Hey, Maggie," Lori called the girl politely, a hint of desperation in her tone.
Arron paused. Lori? Polite? What in the world? Now, Arron was a curious sort of person, and when people acted differently then normal, Arron had to know why. It wasn't his fault that the two women never noticed him standing there.
"What's up, Lori?" Maggie was asking, sensing the seriousness of Lori's stance.
"Could I speak to you in private?" Lori asked, eying Glen who stood a little of to the side.
"Sure?" Maggie's agreement sounded more like a question.
Glen, taking the hint, turned to continue walking to the car they used for runs. "I'll just wait in the car."
Arron used their distraction to inch closer to them.
Lori stood fidgeting for the time it took for Glen to get in the car. Once the door closed behind the kid, Lori turned her attention to Maggie. "I need you to pick me up something without letting anyone know."
Maggie looked at Lori like the woman had grown a second head. "What? First off, do you know how hard that is going to be to do? Secondly, we only go to the places that are already cleared out by the first group's run."
"Please, Maggie," Lori begged, "I'm desperate."
Wow, Arron thought as he watched the play, that must have been hard to admit.
"Okay," Maggie must have had the same thought, because she was agreeing with a sigh, "Okay. What is it you need?"
Lori seemed to be having an internal struggle with herself.
"Lori?" Maggie was asking in concern.
Lori gave a huge sigh of defeat. "I need a box of Plan B."
Arron dropped his bathing supplies in shock. "Fuck."
The two women jumped in surprise and turned to him.
"Shit," Lori broke character and cursed. Why did she think to look around first? So much for no one knowing.
The third and fourth day, Arron stayed the hell away from the two groups, not wanting to be part of the drama anymore. The only person he allowed to be near him was Daryl.
"A baby," Arron grunted pretty much the whole time, "can't even keep up with one."
Daryl just sat in silence, half tuning the other out. There wasn't anything he could say that he hadn't already said to the man.
"Still got to find the other child," Arron huffed. "What is up with this group and children? Lose one? How about we have another? What are they? Candy? Is there a sell on children somewhere?" Arron got up from his seat next to Daryl as Rick walked over. "No. Just no." Arron shot Rick a glare before retreating into the tent and angrily zipped it up. "Gonna kill us all with a loud screaming thing."
Daryl was the only one who could hear him mumbling in the tent. That was no surprise, though, Daryl's ears were tuned to Arron's voice. He could always hear him, even in a crowded place.
"What's up with him?" Rick asked, raising an eyebrow at the tent.
"If ya don't already know," Daryl stated with a deadpan face, "then you don't need to know."
"She hasn't even told him yet," came Arron's voice from the tent. There was a cluttering sound from the tent. Sounds like Arron dumped his bag of sharp pointy objects. "Probably doesn't even know who's it is." There was more clanking coming from the tent.
"Should I be worried?" Rick asked nervously.
"Not unless she plans to keep the future screaming object."
"No," Daryl replied to Rick's question, "he'll get over it, eventually."
"Like hell I will," Arron yelled, throwing a pointy object through the tent wall. The throwing star ripped through the plastic weaving like a hot knife through butter and impend itself into a tree across from the tent wall.
"Oh, kay," Rick was saying awkwardly, slowly sliding away from the tent. Fuck whatever he came over for, Rick was thinking, it could wait.
"Pa!" Daryl snapped as Rick made his exit.
Why on earth Lori decided to confront Arron about the baby topic on the sixth day, when tension was already high, Arron would never understand. Maybe it was because only she thought only Arron and Maggie knew, and, of the two, Arron being older had to be more mature. Well, if that was the case, then the joke was on her.
"I've decided to keep the baby," she told him after he got back from his hunt.
Arron just threw the string of dead squirrels and one rabbit at her face, stalking off, back to the forest, huffing and cursing his luck. He couldn't do this conversion right now.
Finally, the seventh day since Rick and Shane's agreement was upon them. Shane woke everyone at dawn, handed each a gun, and lead them to the barn carrying bolt cutters for the lock. The man wasn't joking when he said he was going to clear the barn, it seemed.
Everyone was anxious to get it done. At least, everyone but Rick. However, Shane had already taken control of the situation. The man played on everyone's weaknesses, even Arron's (which wasn't hard, one pointed look at Daryl and Arron would follow the man into a suicidal battle if Daryl was going too).
"Now, hold on," Rick was protesting, but no one was listening. "Hold on just a minute."
"No, Rick," Shane said, taking long strides up to the barn doors. "You had your chance. Now, it's ours." Then, he was cutting the lock, banging on the doors to draw the walkers attention (like it was needed) just in case. Shane was clear of the doors, joining the rest of the squad at the firing lane, as the doors swung open and the first Walker stepped out into the sunlight.
No one knew who shot the first bullet, which killed the first walker, but soon all the guns were going off. Walker bodies fell into a heap in front of the barn doors as they stepped out. Some of the walkers shot four, five times before going down. Herchel's yell of 'stop' as he ran faster than his old body should be carrying him went unheard by the rest.
At some point, Arron thought, as the last gunshot echoed through the area. The story had stopped being about Daryl and Arron's grand adventures alongside the Rick and Shane's group. Rick and Shane's group was no longer viewed as Arron and Daryl in one category and the others in another. Arron had noticed that day, even no one else did, that the two subgroups had become one whole group with one goal.
Arron's eyes widened in surprise as the last walker limped out of the barn. Even for him, the situation was unexpected. Arron, the ever pessimist, had hoped, beyond hope, that little Sophia Peletier would have been spared the fate the heavens had handed them.
The day Carol screamed out in anguish and shock would forever be engraved in his memories as a bad day. The poor woman didn't deserve to lose a child, and young Sophia had been too young to lose a life. Glen and T-dog held the fighting mother back from the lost child as Rick stepped grimly forward. Then, little baby Sophia was delivered the fate of a bullet to the brain curiosity of Rick Grimes.
It wasn't a good day, all around. Both groups broke apart grieving. Each going back to their designated housing or living spaces.
Rick and Lori cuddled their bundle of love, the only child left in the group. Andrea was leading a broken Carol with Dale into the RV. Glen collapsed by the main fire pit, hand over his eyes, as tears leaked down his face. T-dog only paused briefly to place a hand on Rick's shoulder for support in the action before
hiding away in his tent. Shane briefly, followed T-dogs example, patting Rick on the back, kissing Carl's head, and headed off to his own tent. Arron and Daryl, possibly the most affected after Carol, chose to hide away in the forest.
They all needed a moment. Just one