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Chapter Text

She's the kind of girl who walks into a busy bar with her friends, dolled up to an effortless twelve out of ten, and the next morning, you’re kicking yourself for being too pussy to talk to her. You replay the whole night in your head, listing excuses justifying why you babysat your third half-drank beer instead of slipping through the dance floor to make eye contact for a chance to feel her hand in yours as you spin her around under the dim lights. 

Rick takes a deep breath, imagining the scent of cigarettes underneath him as he pulls himself out of his pajama pants.  She was smoking alone outside when he left. When their eyes met, Rick’s heart stopped beating, and he tripped over the curb before scrambling into his car, begging the world to swallow him whole. The way she hallowed her cheeks to suck in her poison of choice made him weak in the knees. He could almost feel them wrap around his tip. Her rather flat chest rose and fell, following each inhale and exhale. Rick strokes himself in time with her, biting his lip. 

She had the eyes of a hunter. Rick desperately wishes he could’ve seen what color, but the dead of night loves its secrets. Her sleeveless dark green blouse showed off her toned muscles. He imagines those arms wrapping around his neck, and her fingers threading into his curls as her lip gloss smears across his jaw. 

“ It is dangerous to expose your neck to a wolf, ” a voice in the back of his mind says. Rick’s dick twitches, and he spits on his palm to pick up speed. A groan tumbles from his lips. The sheets tangle around him, trapping his legs in place. What would she feel like on top of him, trapping him underneath like a predator toying with her prey before devouring him? 

Strength is a familiar friend. Rick works with strong women every day. They are mothers and police officers, victims advocates, lawyers, and judges. What is the woman from the bar? Her broad shoulders hinted at trade work as did her lack of polished nails. Her outfit was rather modest, especially for a Friday night at Hilltop, the only queer bar within 50 miles of King County. It is the kind of bar only older, less rowdy and more conservative queer folk attended. The youngest person Rick had ever seen inside was his co-worker, Tara. There was an unspoken rule among patrons. If you saw someone at Hilltop, they were never there and neither were you. It was a safe place for people in the closet and people more like Tara. It is perfect for Rick who is someone in the middle–not out and proud, but not hiding either. 

The woman from the bar was a shadow, her rough exterior an obvious flag for where she fell. At first, he thought she was looking for someone, and she was, but not in the way he thought. She wasn’t looking for a missing friend to join her and the two other women with her. No, she was searching for anyone gawking at her. 

How could a woman so beautiful be so self-conscious?

Rick is a regular at Hilltop. After his divorce, he made it a point to come at least once every week depending on his schedule. Most of the time he came alone, but on occasion, Tara would join him, though she usually went on different nights than him because she had eyes for the doctor who only came on Tuesdays for some reason. Tara was lucky. She went home with her crush each night they saw each other, while poor Rick usually went home alone. He got offers, of course, but he learned pretty quickly he wasn’t the type to fumble in the dark at his most vulnerable with someone who wasn’t interested in getting to know him outside the sheets.

The woman from the bar wasn’t a regular, but he’d seen her there twice before. Both times she had her two friends with her, both breathtaking in their own right. One was a younger black woman who wore more revealing clothing than the two older women. Her smile lit up the room, especially when her older wife would adjust the clasp of her necklace for her after dancing. The older woman was pale with long curly gray hair she kept in a bandana that always matched whatever the darker woman wore. A simple and elegant way to show they were taken without wearing rings for anyone who missed their gentle touches and smitten kisses. They acted more like teenagers at the drive-in than grown women at a bar.

Watching them made the seat next to him seem more empty, and his heart heavier. He could tell the hunter felt similarly, but she never joined them on the dance floor or talked to any of the other patrons. Her glare warned off any offers more often than not. She seemed content to exist as herself in a safe place among people like her. She’d caught him looking a few times, but never said anything or gave him a signal one way or the other. Rather, their eyes would meet, and she’d look away just as quickly. He wasn’t worth more than a glance. 

Rick whimpers from the pressure building in his balls. He takes them into his other hand, massaging and pulling them. Sparks of pain burst from his swollen lower lip. Gasping, he urges his body to relax at the finger prodding his entrance. His middle finger is too dry to stick in, so he rubs the area like he would a clit. His pucker flutters at the attention like a woman batting her eyelashes. Rick pictures the hunter between his legs, gazing up at him before marking his thighs as her territory, slowly moving toward his balls. She sucks his left ball into her mouth first, feeling the wrinkles against her tongue as she moves to do the same to the other, mapping out every detail in her mind of how to unravel him piece by piece. 

“ Please, ” he whispers to the open air. His eyes are screwed tight, desperate to make her real. Throbbing at the thought of being full, he sucks his middle digit into his mouth, swirling it around his tongue like he would if it was her cock. Was she cut or uncut? His eyes roll back, moaning as more fingers stuff his mouth. Drool spills onto his cheek, down to his chin. Once lubricated, he rubs his perineum, imagining her tongue. His hips involuntarily thrust forward, and his legs shake with anticipation. His other hand moves from his member to his nipples, gently flicking them to hardness. As he circles his entrance once more, he squeezes his chest, pretending they’re the woman’s breasts. His hole tightens at the intrusion, but he rubs the rings of muscle the deeper he goes. One finger is nothing to him. To loosen himself up, he twists his nipples, focusing on the pleasure blooming from the sensitive buds. 

“Good boy,” the woman whispers, kissing his hip. “Keep opening up for Mommy.”

“Fuck!” Rick chokes, throwing his head back and panting. He presses another finger inside, loving the burn from the stretch. 

It's not enough.

But he can’t fit more without lube, and he can’t get more lube without stopping. Thrashing his head to the side, he bites his pillow. The air is too hot on his sticky, sweaty skin. Pleasure tip-toes the edge of pain, and he groans, mindlessly thrusting his hips back onto his fingers.

“ There! Fuck, right there, Mommy!” he screams as stars burst behind his eyelids. He hooks his right leg under his arm for better access to rub against the bundle of nerves. His hip joint pops in protest, but he can’t slow down, not when he’s so close!

The woman drapes over him, holding him down as she continues to abuse his poor prostate. Her breath is hot against his cheek. She cups his jaw, forcing him to look at her. Their lips brush against each other, and Rick cums silently with his mouth parted, waiting for what will never come. 

Chapter Text

“Well, that doesn’t sound good,” Tara calls out over the groaning of gears as Rick pulls his patrol car next to her, facing the opposite direction, in the gas station parking lot. 

Rick rests his elbow on his window, leaning against the door and sighing, “No, it doesn’t.”

“Gummy worm?” She holds out the half-eaten package.

Rick takes a few and offers some of his beef jerky. Sugar crystals trickle off Tara’s fingers as she reaches into the bag. “Sorry.”

“S’ fine,” he says, but his pout says otherwise. 

Chuckling, she says, “I’ll buy ya a coffee to make it up to you.”

“You mean I get to have burnt black coffee from the 7-11 for free? ” Rick asks with sarcastic enthusiasm.

“You know what, Grimes? I feel so bad for you, I might even sprinkle a little sugar inside for ya.” She motions dusting her fingers off into a cup, making him cringe. “Brb, baby.” She winks and blasts him with finger guns before exiting her car to jog into the store.

“I’m typing up my sexual harassment report as we speak!” he calls out. 

She laughs, flipping him the bird. Once out of sight, Rick pulls up his incident report document. There was an altercation at one of the biker bars in town known for their white supremacist ties. Walking in always made his skin crawl and tonight was no different.

A physical altercation between Merle Dixon (WM-52) and his father, William Jr. Dixon (WM-71) occurred between 2213 and 2225 at Woodberry according to the 9-11 call. Officer Tara Chambler and I arrived at the scene at 2239 as logged in the body camera footage. The scene was in disarray with multiple bottles of liquor broken across the floor of the bar and the legs of one of the billiards tables snapped in half. Based on a visual examination, Merle Dixon had bruising on his left cheekbone, eye, and jaw. While speaking, his speech was slurred and pupils dilated. His mood was erratic. William Dixon walked with a heavy limp. He took short, shallow breaths and clutched his right side. EMT Beth Greene on scene believed he sustained broken ribs. His mood was also erratic. He was unwilling to answer any questions, including his name, which we later learned from Merle. 

No patrons or staff were willing to come forward as witnesses. However, the 9-11 call was placed by the establishment owner, Philip Blake, who stated he wanted to move forward with arresting both Dixon men for their disorderly conduct and damages. Officer Chambler and I waited for backup from Deputy Lambert Kendel, Deputy Leon Basset, and Deputy Shane Welsh before proceeding. During this time, William made threats to his son, which led Merle to punch William, splitting his lip before Officer Chambler and I were able to separate them with the help of EMS. William was deemed unfit to be booked into jail without additional medical care and was taken off scene via ambulance. Merle was arrested for Disorderly Conduct, Class C Misdemeanor Assault, Possession of Drug Paraphernalia, and Misdemeanor Damage to Property. He was booked into King County Jail at 2300 with a $5,000.00 bond. 

“Done already? Damn, you’re quick,” Tara says, handing him the steaming cup with a container of creamer on top and three sugar packets. 

“You’ll learn how to cut out all the extra fat and get to the meat and potatoes eventually.”

She slurps on her blue icy, but none of the sugary goodness comes up. Frowning, she wiggles around her straw. An awful scraping sound rings in the air.

“Chambler,” Rick scolds.

She throws her hands up and takes another sip, humming at the slush finally reaching her taste buds. “How many reports do we have tonight?” she asks with her mouth full.

“Three, if nothing else comes up, but-”

“But something always comes up,” they say in sync. 

“You’re going to jinx us,” Tara shakes her head. “I swear every time you say that-”

Rick’s radio beeps to life, and Tara bangs her head against the steering wheel.

“How the hell did he post bail so quickly?” Tara asks as they arrive at the Dixon trailer. 

“Girlfriend came and picked him up,” Shane says, nodding to both. “Call came from the neighbor. Said Merle started beating on his brother when the guy wouldn’t let ‘em in. The girlfriend got in between them.”

“Sounds ugly.”

“Bet it’ll look uglier,” Rick chimes in. 

The door to the Dixon trailer is wide open, nearly broken off its hinges. The thin walls barely contain the shouting match inside. Clothes, cans of beer and soda, and boxes of microwave dinners and take-out litter every surface. Marijuana smoke lingers in the air with the lemon-scented air freshener. Two roaches sit in the ashtray among the tower of cigarette buds. Rick and Shane position themselves on either side of the door while Tara circles the trailer for another exit. 

With their tasers out, Rick yells, “King County Sheriff’s Department! Come out with your hands up!” 

The voices go quiet, cursing, then shuffling starts. Shane jerks his hand, motioning for them to enter, but Rick shakes his head. Dropping his shoulders, Shane licks his lips, reluctantly following Rick’s lead.

“King County Sheriff’s Department! Come to the door with your hands where I can see them!” Rick repeats.

“Fuck you!” Merle yells.

Shane tilts his head with his brows raised. Sighing, Rick follows him inside. Their eyes scan the living room. As they suspected, no one was there, though Rick notes the shotgun resting against the arm of the couch. Merle’s parole officer is going to have a field day. Shane guards the hallway while Rick circles around the island separating the living room and dining/kitchen area. He steps into a puddle of fresh blood, making the hair on his neck stand. He follows the trail leading into a small dark room. With his stomach turning, Rick feels the wall for a light switch. 

Pellets of mouse poop cover the ground. One of the traps by the door leading outside has a decaying mouse. Its ribs are exposed and its eyes missing are from its sockets. The smeared blood on the doorknob makes Rick’s mouth dry. 

“Chambler, you can enter.”

The door swings open, and Tara steps inside.

“Anything?” she asks, then notices the blood. “Oh, shit!”

“No one came out your way, right?”

“Not a soul. They must’ve left before we arrived. I didn’t notice any blood outside, but there seems to be a bike missing based on the tire tracks. I think they park it out there under the metal awning.”

“Come on.” He leads her back to Shane. The three officers clear the first bedroom, stopping at the end of the hall with the bathroom on the right and the other bedroom across on the left. 

“Drop it!” Shane yells at Merle who is hunched over the toilet tossing blue pills inside. “Drop it now and put your hands up!”

Merle barely offers them a glance before flushing the toilet. Shane pulls the trigger, releasing the taser, and Merle drops to the ground, convulsing. 

“ No! Please, stop! ” a woman sobs from the bedroom. Her left eye is swollen shut. She has a bag of mixed vegetables wrapped in paper towels pressed against it. 

“On the ground now with your hands in the air!” Rick says. 

Sniffling, she complies, and Rick cuffs her without any problems while Tara helps Shane do the same. 

Afterwards, it's not hard to pack them into their separate patrol cars. 

“Chambler, go on and take the girlfriend’s statement,” Rick says. She walks off, and he turns to Shane. “You wanna do the same with Merle? I know you’ve built some rapport with him. See what you can see.”

“Sure, man. Did you see the shotgun and weed?”

Rick rubs his forehead, resting his other hand on his hip. “Saw a blood trail in the kitchen too, leading out the back.”

“ Shit! ” Shane places both his hands on his buzzed head, rubbing the thick hairs before dropping them to his hips to unconsciously mimic his partner. “Must’ve been the younger one.”

“You meet ‘em?”

“Yeah, he’s trouble, but he ain’t like his dad or brother. Just mouthy. Pretty much keeps to himself. He’s a tough son of a bitch.”

“Think he’ll come back tonight?”

Shrugging, Shane says, “Man likes to camp. I mean, this is his legal address, but I swear the guy only comes out of those woods to shower and go to work. He’s practically a sasquatch.”

Rick chuckles and pats Shane’s shoulder. Moments like this don’t sting like they used to. In such a small town, they had to learn how to make it work, and thank god, they did. They still have their moments, but overall, they co-parent and work together well. Hell, most of the time, Shane takes his side during his and Lori’s disagreements.

“I’ll photograph and bag what evidence I can.”

“You gonna call in ‘bout the drugs in the pipes or you want me to?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that too. Take care of Merle and make sure he doesn’t OD or piss in the backseat of my car.” 

“Will do! Hey, and if you see a crossbow, then Daryl might come back ‘round. Don’t think I’ve ever seen him without it. If not, he prolly stalked off into the woods like I said.”

Rick gives him a thumbs up as he enters the trailer. Oddly enough, the flash of his camera calms his nerves. As exciting as handcuffing bastards who deserve it is, Rick’s favorite part of the job is the calm after the storm. Evidence collection is one of the most important pieces of his work. It’s what matters in court and what makes him stand out as one of the best officers. Taking photos, bagging and tagging, allow his thoughts to rest and his mind to put all the pieces together for his report. 

Rick takes pictures of everything relevant and then some to be safe. When he re-enters the laundry room, his guts bubble once more. Years of experience never took away his empathy. Recreating the scene in his head allows him to visualize a blurry-faced man running through, barely feeling the pain due to the adrenaline pumping through his system before climbing onto his bike and barrelling out of the trailer park like a bat out of hell. A sleeveless dark green blouse lies balled up in the corner, taking Rick’s breath away. For a moment, he sees the woman from the bar in the blurry man’s place, and his heart almost tumbles out of his chest. Taking a deep breath, he forces those thoughts away and finishes up. 

Outside, Tara’s cruiser is gone, and Shane is on the phone. He places his hand over the microphone as Rick passes, calling out to ask if Rick will finish taking Merle’s statement. Rick does as he’s asked but doesn’t get any real answers. Despite how loud-mouthed and easily triggered the older man is, he’s unusually quiet, even his snide comments are kept to a minimum. It unnerves Rick more than it should. His gut tells him this dispute was different from the normal spats between the Dixons he occasionally hears about from Shane. 

“I didn’t notice your brother’s crossbow. Do you think he retreated into the woods?”

“Polly.”

“Do you have an idea of where he might be camped out?”

“Nope.”

Huffing, Rick puts his hands on his hips. “I saw the blood, Merle. He’s injured. Bad. He needs medical assistance. If you tell me where he might be, I’ll look for him myself, and bring him to the hospital.”

Something flashes over Merle’s face too quickly for Rick to register. “There’s no point. If he don’t wanna be found, he won’t be. Even if ya did find ‘em, he wouldn’t go to no doc. His paycheck doesn’t stretch that far, and besides, he ain’t a sissy. He’ll take care of ‘emself. Few stitches and he’ll be good as new.” 

A man who can give himself stitches is one tough son of a bitch. Rick’s old shoulder scar itches at the thought, and he absentmindedly scratches it. The blouse nags in the back of his mind. Before he can stop himself, he asks, “What about the woman’s blouse in the laundry room? The green one with the cut-off sleeves. Looks too big for your girl.”

Rick has run into Merle Dixon a few times over the years, and for the first time, he sees Merle’s face turn expressionless. An acid taste lingers on Rick’s tongue at the sight. 

“What about it?”

“Whose is it?” Rick asks, keeping his voice neutral and even despite his instincts screaming at him for poking at the bear standing tall in front of him. 

Merle takes a moment longer to answer than is necessary. “Daryl’s girlfriend’s. Must’ve left it last time she came over.”

Rick’s heart drops. Could the reserved woman from the bar really be dating one of the Dixons? Maybe that was why she always seemed so distant. The woman was obviously stealth if Merle was using her correct pronouns, but that doesn’t mean the other Dixon was treating her right. Daryl had to know. There’s no way he could keep his hands off her, but if he did know, how he laid his hands on her could be different from how Rick would. “When did you see her last?”

Merle’s eye twitches. “The hell you wanna know for, Officer? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Was she over tonight?” 

“No,” he answers too quickly. His nose flares, and his jaw clenches. 

“Do you think Daryl might’ve gone to stay with her?”

Merle laughs, really laughs. He curls in on himself, jingling the cuffs behind his back with a smile stretching his features almost unnaturally, like a predator taunting its prey. Rick takes a step back, flushing. Something is wrong. Seriously wrong . 

Their eyes meet, and Rick’s heartbeat picks up. 

“No, Officer Friendly. He has nowhere to go.”

Chapter Text

“Quit thinkin’ ‘bout it, Rick. Come on, man. Eat somethin’.” Shane motions to the burrito in front of Rick. “You’re makin’ me hungry just lookin’ at cha’.”

Rick snorts. “Just lookin’ at me, huh?”

Whistling, Shane looks him up and down and winks. 

Rick kicks his foot under the booth table and unwraps his burrito. Crispy lettuce, thick strips of baked chicken, and crunchy bacon are coated in creamy queso and black beans. They burst out of the spotted tortilla. Despite how his eyes devour the burrito, Rick can’t stomach eating it, but he takes a bite for Shane’s sake. His partner sucks the cheese off his thumb, keeping him under a watchful eye. Rick swallows and opens his mouth as proof, moving his tongue around like they do when they inspect people during jail intake. Shane covers Rick’s mouth with his hand, forcing it shut. 

“Enough! Alright, I get it. Good job,” Shane says sarcastically. 

Rick sets his burrito down and rubs his forehead. Shane sinks into the torn leather booth seat across from him with a sigh.

“You’re not going to sleep until you find him are you.”

“It just that,” Rick struggles to put his thoughts into words, “the whole situation is off. Merle was hiding something, I know it. Maybe he was trying to protect his brother…”

“Daryl.”

“Daryl! Thank you. But if so, why wouldn’t he tell us where he was so he could get patched up? What the hell was their fight about?”

“Yesterday, the neighbor said it was over Merle’s arrest. Daryl didn’t want to put up with his shit anymore and threatened to kick him out. Why don’t you believe her?”

“Cause it can’t be that simple! There’s no way she could hear what they said from inside. When you interviewed her, she said she heard their argument while watching TV right? So she was inside. We were standing in the doorway while Sheila and Merle were screaming at each other and I couldn’t make out a word.”

Shane chews with his mouth open, tossing the idea around in his head before nodding. “Okay, point taken. What are you thinkin’ then?”

“I think Merle was already amped up and something happened between him and Daryl to make it worse. I saw-” he pauses. If you saw someone at Hilltop, they were never there and neither were you. He can’t out the woman, not if he can solve the case without compromising her safety. Oh god… what if the blood wasn’t Daryl’s? What if it was hers? 

Rick closes his eyes and rubs his temples, trying to keep his breathing even. 

What if Merle walked in on them having sex and that’s why Daryl didn’t answer the door? The bite Rick took turns his stomach. He pushes the burrito toward Shane.

“What? Come on, I’m on the edge of my seat, man!”

Shaking his head, Rick looks at Shane, really truly looks at him for the first time in a long time. His former best friend looks older. His cockiness is still sketched into the lines of his face, but there is a humility softening his features he was missing before, more maturity. Domesticity looks good on him. Shane tilts his head, letting Rick take his time. 

The dagger Rick never had the strength to pull out of his heart twists a little deeper. Blood trickles out of the wound with a dull ache. His fingers twitch, barely resisting the urge to pull the knife out and let everything spill. The loneliness suffocating every inch of his shitty bachelor pad, the love he’s desperate to share with anyone willing to take a piece even if they don’t appreciate it, and the desire to breathe again without the weight of everyone else’s opinion on his chest. Rick’s never been one to talk about his feelings, but he’s even worse at keeping secrets. His heart bleeds. His nails dig into the muscle pumping beneath his calluses, tearing piece by piece, begging for someone to treasure what little he has left to offer. 

He can’t give any more of himself to Shane.

“Nothing,” Rick mutters. 

Shane frowns and sets down his burrito. “You know you can talk to me, right?” 

Wounds heal, but they’re never the same as before. Scars reopen and hurt just as badly as the first time. God, Rick wants to tell him. But he can’t. He won’t.

Shane must notice his change in demeanor because he looks away and pushes his meal to the side too. He rests his elbows on the table and fiddles with his lower lip.

“I just want justice,” Rick says, knowing it's a weak excuse. 

“Yeah,” Shane agrees, picking up on what he’s not saying. 

Rick can practically see the apology forming on Shane’s lips, so he stands and pays for their meal at the counter. 

“I thought we agreed it was my turn to buy?”

“It was.” He lifts his hand to pat Shane’s shoulder, but stops himself, clenching his jaw. 

Shane rubs the back of his head and folds up Rick’s burrito for him. Their fingers brush as he hands it to him, leaving a pit in Rick’s stomach. Three long years have passed, yet on days like today, it feels like yesterday. 

Last call is announced by the time Rick notices they are there. Tucked into the corner of Hilltop, inside one of the smallest booths, the couple the woman always comes in with are sitting hip to hip and holding hands. The pale, gray-haired woman rests her cheek on her hand. An intimate smile pulls at her lips as she watches her wife sing along to whatever trash is playing from above. Maybe it's the bar tab as long as his arm, or maybe it's his unwavering morals about justice, no matter the reason, he impulsively makes his way to their table. The dark-skinned woman spots him first and trails off, watching him approach with her brows raised. Rick ignores her, checking the other side of the booth for the woman of his dreams, and swallows his disappointment. 

“Can we help you?” the gray-haired woman asks. The dark-skinned woman squints at him, and her grip tightens as her partner tries to slip her hand away.

“Hi?” Rick rubs his hands together. He stares down at the sweat coating them before wiping them on his pants. “I’m Rick. Rick Grimes. I’m, uh, with the King County Sheriff's Department.”

Both women straighten, exchanging a glance before the pale woman plasters on such a good fake smile he might’ve been fooled if he hadn’t been looking for one. The other woman doesn’t seem interested in entertaining him and glares. If looks could kill, Rick would be cut in two. 

“Sorry to interrupt your evening. I just have a few questions about your friend.”

“We came here alone.”

“No, yeah. I know. But you usually bring your hot friend- I mean!” Rick freezes. His mind scrambles to try to find another, more appropriate word to describe her, but can’t. “Sorry, I’m drunk.”

The dark-skinned woman chuckles, and her shoulders relax while the pale one’s smile turns more genuine. 

“Can I leave you my number to give to her?” After a pause, he adds. “Please?”

“Oh, well, since you said please,” the pale woman jokes. 

“You should know she isn’t the type to have one-night stands,” the dark-skinned lady says.

The pale woman tilts her head, adding, “Or relationships, really.”

“Oh,” Rick mutters. “That’s fine. I still want to speak to her if I have the chance.” Avoiding telling them the whole truth is eating him alive. Regardless of whether his half-cocked master plan works, he prays he forgets everything in the morning.

“She’s very… reserved.”

“I get it.” He awkwardly chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve seen her turn down enough people to know my chances are slim to none, but I’ve had a shit day and thought about every time I’ve seen her walk in here and been too chicken shit to say something. I know things won’t change just because I want them to. It ain’t right for me to wait around for her to approach me when I’ve got two working legs.”

The pale woman purses her lips in thought, and her partner rubs the inside of her wrist, willing to keep following her lead. Once the gray-haired woman has come to her conclusion, she turns to her partner. They share a silent conversation Rick desperately wishes he was a part of.

Finally, the pale woman asks, “Do you have a piece of paper?”

Chapter Text

Warmth envelops Rick’s cheek. Her thumb traces his cheekbone down to the corner of his lips. Taking a shallow breath, Rick nuzzles into her embrace, kissing any part of her he can reach. As her hand, dripping red, slips away into the darkness, he tries to speak, but no sound comes out. His body is dead weight. His heart races from the stickiness she left behind. The void around him turns into a sea of blood, slowly rising. His lungs burn as his mouth and nose are filled. 

Rick’s eyes shoot open, darting around his bedroom. His body is frozen in place. All his muscles ache from the tension. He closes his eyes to focus on his breathing, but all he sees is the void. 

Throwing down his notepad, Rick clicks his pen in time with the ticking of the clock on the wall beside him. He doesn’t know when the hour hand stopped counting correctly, but he does remember noticing it for the first time after he awoke from his coma. Oddly enough, the clock in his hospital room didn’t work either. For a split second, he wondered if he was alive at all, if that damn hospital bed was part of his torture in purgatory. It’s funny how time hasn’t felt the same since then. The days feel longer, but the years feel shorter. In the three years since he woke up, everything has changed–his address, his friendships, his physical abilities, anything and everything. He doesn’t even own the same car or enjoy the same hobbies because what was his was theirs. Rick shared every aspect of his life with either Shane or Lori. You couldn’t have one without the other, but now they have each other without him. 

Biting his lip, he stares at that damn clock until it's correct. He blinks a few times, breath caught in his throat, and places it back onto the nail. God, he needs a drink (or five) . But he promised himself he wouldn’t return to Hilltop until he’d solved the Dixon case. 

“When did you come in?” Shane calls out, walking in from the hallway to their tiny cubicle farm. “I thought you were scheduled to work second shift today, not first.”

“I was, but I couldn’t sleep. Just been doin’ paperwork and reviewing notes, you know?”

Shane sets his bag down and tucks his jacket onto the back of his chair, sighing, “Still can’t stop thinking about the Dixons, huh?”

Rick shrugs and returns to his seat, hoping Shane will take the hint to stop talking. 

“Have you reviewed Merle’s jail logs to see if he’s sent or received any phone calls or visits?”

Pausing, Rick turns to him with wide eyes. “I’m an idiot.”

“Or maybe I’m a genius.” Shane grins. “I’ll go put on a pot of coffee.” 

Shane plops onto the mesh office chair next to Rick with a groan and passes him a cup of coffee.

“You alright there, Grandpa? Do I need to start looking at retirement homes?” Rick teases before blowing on the steam rising from the cup.

Smiling, Shane nudges him with his knee. “Judith kept me up last night. Girl started yawnin’ at five but managed to keep us up til’ twelve.” He shakes his head. 

“Twelve? I wish Carl fell asleep that fast back then. He’d keep us up, asking a million and one questions. When he did fall asleep, he’d want to sleep with us, and you know Lori, she couldn’t tell him no.”

Shane nods along, eyes filled with the pain of understanding. 

“Those restless legs of his would kick the shit out of me.” Phantom pains make his back and thighs ache.

“I remember the bruises.” Shane chuckles. “They must get it from Lori then. Hey, speaking of Carl, he looked a little pale this morning. Lori checked his temperature, but he didn’t have a fever, so she sent him on the bus.”

Rick hums in acknowledgment before scrolling through the jail call logs. “So I found out Merle received a call yesterday from his brother at 6 PM. Though, I don’t know how to find the transcript.”

“Here, let me.” Shane reaches over him and plays the audio. The complete transcript pops on the screen. As the voices speak, a yellow bar highlights the words. 

“How are ya doin’?” a gruff, smoker’s voice asks. The transcript says, ‘External Caller: Daryl Dixon.’

“Peachy. Just peachy. You got my money?” Merle responds.

Sighing, Daryl says, “Yeah. I got it. Can’t fuckin’ believe toothpaste is seven bucks.”

“You wouldn’t last a day in here,” Merle laughs. 

“Fuck you.”

Shane snorts, relaxing back in his chair while Rick leans forward, leg bouncing. 

“Jealous I’m gettin’ all the attention while your sorry ass is busy lickin’ your wounds?”

Rick hears the underlying question, ‘Are you okay?’ veiled between Merle’s off-color jokes.

“M’ fine. Back to work ‘n all.”

“Where ya camped out at?”

“That plot over by Hershel.”

“He know you're there?”

Daryl scoffs. “Beth came out to tell me dinner was ready.”

Merle cackles. “She’s somethin’ else, man. You sure ya ain’t interested in her? Cause she’s definitely interested in you.”

“Shut up. You know she’s too young,” Daryl says, warning as bright as caution tape. 

“She’s legal ain’t she? Turned nineteen last fall?”

“You know I ain’t interested. Quit askin’,” Daryl barks. 

The woman from the bar pops into Rick’s mind. Daryl must really like her. How could he not? The thought makes his stomach turn, but at the same time, his shoulders relax, knowing he might actually appreciate her and not just be using her for her looks. 

“You know, one good thing ‘bout you bein’ you is we ain’t gotta compete for pussy. Though, let it be known it wouldn’t be much of a competition anyway.”

“I’mma hang up.”

Before they can continue, Rick’s phone rings. The caller ID says, ‘King Co. HS’. Rick stands, putting his finger up to motion for Shane to pause the transcript as he answers.

“Deputy Rick Grimes. How can I help you?”

There is a pause on the other side before a familiar woman’s voice asks, “Deputy Grimes? Hi, this is Carol, the receptionist for King County High School. Is your son Carl Grimes?”

Lightning shoots through Rick’s body. His eyes widen, and he swallows the nerves crawling up his throat. “Yes, Ma’am. Is he okay?”

“Well, he went to the nurse for an upset stomach. Siddiq gave him some Tylenol, but because he has a fever, we can not allow him to go back to class. Are you available to pick him up?”

Rick rubs his forehead and closes his eyes. Damn it! He was finally getting somewhere. He looks to Shane, remembering what the other man said to him. You know you can talk to me, right? 

“Yes, Ma’m. I’m on my way.” He snaps his phone back into his hip holster. “I gotta pick Carl up. School said he’s got a fever now. Can you finish the transcript and send me anything of interest?”

“Sure, man. You gonna keep him overnight?

“I think that’d be best. Don’t want Judith to get sick.”

“Good idea. I’ll research where Daryl works too since he said he’d gone back.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Rick claps him on the shoulder, squeezing lightly, before heading out the door.

Chapter Text

“ Unbelievable ,” Rick mutters. His jaw aches from how hard he’s clenching his teeth. 

The sputtering of the engine taunts him.

“Stop!” he yells to Carl and slams the hood shut, bouncing the car. He turns away from his wide-eyed son in the driver's seat to rub his face with one hand on his hip. The blazing sun beats heat against his eyelids. Stripping off his brown jacket, he tosses it onto the hood and unbuttons his uniform shirt to expose his white undershirt. He fluffs it, allowing the air to calm him down as he dials the only tow truck company in town. 

After a brief conversation with Abraham, he hangs up and walks back to the driver’s door. Carl scoots over into the passenger’s seat and tries not to make eye contact. Once inside, Rick rests his arm against the door and runs his fingers through his short brown curls. “You know I’m not mad at you, right?”

Carl nods, finally looking over at him with his big doe eyes. “I know.”

“M’ sorry for yelling.”

Shrugging, Carl says, “I get it. So… what are we gonna do now?”

“Abe’s on his way, ‘bout ten minutes out give or take. Said he’d take us to the best shop in town.”

“We’re not going to have to wait in the lobby the whole time are we?” 

“You can work on your homework while we’re there.”

Carl slumps against his seat, whining under his breath. “ Should’ve just stayed at school. ”

God, today is going to be a long day.

“Thanks, Abe!” Rick says as he climbs out of the truck. He holds his hand out to help Carl down.

“Not a problem.” Abe removes the tow dolly and looks up at them with a smile Rick doesn’t appreciate. “Hey, Carl. You wanna help me out?” 

Rick’s eyebrows rise, giving Abe his signature disapproving dad look, but the other man winks as he opens the cruiser driver’s door. Carl bolts over to him and slides in the driver’s seat. After Abe slams the door closed, he leans inside through the window to say, “So when I give you the signal, you’re gonna unleash the parking break and let the car roll back off the platform. Once you’re off, I’ll put my hand up for you to break and put it in park. All you really need to do is keep the steering wheel straight. Think you can handle that?”

“I’ve got this.” Carl grins, rubbing his hands along the wheel with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Put your seat-belt on!” Rick shouts.

Huffing, Carl does, and Abe backs away. He stands by Rick, lightly nudging his arm before giving Carl the signal. As the car rolls back, Carl freezes in place, eyes shifting between the rear-view mirrors at lightning speed even though the car is moving at a snail's pace.  

“How long until your boy is sixteen?” Rick asks.

Abe throws his head back, laughing. “Rosita’s only eight months along.”

“Cool. I’ll make sure to put a reminder on my calendar sixteen years from now to get you back.”

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” Abe pats him on the back before resting his hand on Rick’s shoulder. “You know Rosita and Sasha will kill you if you prank our baby.”

“You’re assuming they won’t be in on it.”

“Oh, shit!” 

“It’s like a roller coaster!” Carl shouts as he exits the car. 

“ It’s like a roller coaster,’ he says,” Abe repeats, gesturing toward the boy. “See, there’s no danger.”

“You haven’t seen him drive around the church parking lot. I’m just waiting for Father Gabriel to put up a sign saying, ‘Sorry, no Grimes allowed!’ ”

“So I guess y’all are the ones responsible for the tire tracks painting the lot. Looks very Picasso -esque if I do say so myself.”

Rick chuckles before they exchange payment and head their separate ways.  ‘Dale’s Auto Shop’ the grimy red sign with white lettering hanging above the entrance door reads. Two men stand underneath a lifted red Dodge Challenger. The taller one whose blue overalls reads, ‘Jim’ nods to them with a tight-lipped smile as he wipes his fingers on his rag. The other man doesn’t seem to notice them, continuing to jabber on. 

“Wait a second, Glenn?” Rick asks.

The shorter man whips his head around before smiling with all his teeth. “Hey! My favorite customers!”

“What are you doing here?” Carl asks before coughing into his arm. “Sorry.”

“Ah, you know, trying something new. They cut my hours at Donni’s Pizza so I guilt Dale into letting me learn the ropes here.”

“In other words, we were desperate,” Jim jokes. “But in all seriousness, he’d been a quick learner, thankfully.”

“You hear that? Gold star!” Glenn motions his thumbs toward himself. 

“Well, congratulations, Glenn.” Rick holds his hand out for a shake and pats Glenn on the upper arm. “Maybe you’ll finally have enough money for an engagement ring.”

“That’s the plan. Herschel already gave me his blessing. Now, I need to prove I’ll be able to provide for her.”

“That’s the hardest part. Keeping everyone’s heads above water,” Jim says. “You’ll make it work though.”

“It’d be great if you could make my cruiser work too,” Rick jokes, lazily motioning to the hunk of junk. “Carl, you can go on inside and make yourself comfortable.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” 

After Rick explains, Jim jerks his thumb over to the cruiser, telling Glenn, “Why don’t you take a look at it and see what you can see.”

“Yes, Sir!” Glenn fake salutes him, making Jim swat at him with his rag.

The reception area of the shop is homier than Rick expected. A photo of an older couple standing in front of an RV sits in the middle of the wall. Surrounding them are breathtaking photos from their adventures. Redwood trees as thick as a school bus shrink the woman holding her arms out. The caption reads, ‘Oregon 1989’. Another photo shows the vastness of the Grand Canyon and Red River Gorge in Daniel Boone National Park. The dates range from the 70s when the couple was much younger and stops at 2007. Looking around the shop once more, Rick can tell by the dust collected on the shelves with plaques and the clutter behind the service desk that a woman’s touch is missing. Rick’s heart aches to ponder why.

He takes a seat in one of the six thread-barren chairs. It's as stiff as it looks. Beside him is a table full of magazines with pages missing and a rusty gumball machine full of gum older than Carl. After taking a moment to adjust, Rick glances out the window to watch Glenn bent over, staring inside Rick’s hood, scratching the back of his head. As if he could feel Rick’s eyes on him, he turns and waves with a smile that doesn’t instill a lot of confidence in the older man. Shaking his head, Rick looks around for where Carl could’ve gone. There is a dimly lit hallway on the other side of the room with a restroom sign on the wall next to it. 

Rick rubs his eyes and gets up to see if Carl is throwing up even though his knees pop in protest. In the hallway, he hears faint chatter coming from what he assumes is a break room. Peeking inside, he sees Carl sitting at a folding card table, sipping on a coffee with a powdered donut in front of him. Carl’s nose curls as he swallows, but he plasters on a fake smile, saying, “It’s good. Told you I take it black too.”

The woman from the bar snorts as she leans against the counter, and takes a gulp of her own cup before devouring her donut in two bites. She brushes her fingers together to dust off the majority of the sugar crystals. What remains is sucked off, one finger at a time. Rick’s mouth parts at the gorgeous display of innocent erotica. He stands silently like a fly on the wall. She reaches into the drawer beside her and pulls out a handful of sugar packets to toss at Carl who grumbles his thanks. The woman grunts in acknowledgment before using the hair tie on her wrist to pull her hair back out of her face into a low, messy ponytail. She brushes the too short stray strands behind her ear and the ones at the base of her neck flow down like a waterfall, stunning and untamable.

The ding of Rick’s phone breaks him from his trance. There’s an unread message from Shane reading, ‘Daryl works at Dale’s Auto Shop off of Alexandria Drive.’ When Rick looks up, he locks eyes with the woman of his dreams as reality crashes down on him.

Chapter Text

Looking back, Rick should’ve known. The pieces were all there, yet he didn’t put them together. They’d made eye contact briefly before in the bar, but the distance between them always made it feel like she was out of his reach. Now, as Daryl stares him down, it feels like there’s barely enough room between them to breathe. Rick swallows, face flushing, as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. 

“Carl,” he clears his scratchy throat, “You, uh, you weren’t in the lobby.”

“Oh, shoot. I meant to go pee.” Carl jumps out of his seat. 

“Down the hall on the right. You were almost there,” Daryl tells him, not taking her eyes off Rick. They wait until the bathroom door clicks shut before breaking the silence. “What do you want, Officer Rick Grimes ?” She says his name like it's vulgar. 

Rick’s eyes find the floor, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I see Carol gave you my number.”

“And description. So I guess you showin’ up here is just a coincidence, right?”

The color drains from his face. “No! Wait, yes?” he sighs, taking a step forward into the break room. “My car broke down on my way home. Carl’s my son. Trust me, I would not come on to you with him here.”

“You don’t know me, man.” Daryl closes the distance between them. Each step closer makes Rick’s heart race and throat tight. She stops inches from him, poking her finger into his chest. “And I don’t know you.” 

“Right. Yeah, no, I know. I’m just here to get serviced.” Then cringes at the innuendo. 

Daryl’s lip twitches then, suppressing a smile. Their shoulders brush together as she passes him into the lobby, barely above a whisper saying, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

Rick checks his watch for the thousandth time in the two and a half hours they’ve been waiting in the lobby. He absentmindedly runs his fingers through Carl’s thick waves as Carl snores with his head in his father’s lap. Rick adjusts his uniform jacket to cover Carl’s shoulder again before rubbing his eyes. Various papers and folders fan out in front of him on the ground. Rick flips to the next page in the history textbook and lightly underlines the section Carl will need to answer one of the questions he got stuck on before he dozed off. 

“Psh, you doin’ homework?” Daryl asks, unable to keep her amusement out of her gruff voice. 

Rick almost breaks his neck looking up at her as she hovers by them, eyeing the papers. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Just needed to grab my smokes. I’ll get outta your hair in a moment.” She vaguely points to one of the questions. “Plessy v. Ferguson.”

“Which one?” Rick shifts through the questions. “The supreme court case that ruled people were ‘separate but equal’?”

Daryl nods.

“Hey, how’d you know that?”

“My dad’s a fuckin’ Nazi. Never shuts the fuck up ‘bout history. Though, half the shit is conspiracies ‘m sure.” 

Rick’s nose curls. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

“Were you one of the officers that picked ‘em up from the bar last week?”

Rick looks down at Carl as he coughs in his sleep, curling further into his father’s embrace on the cold tile floor. “I was. Does that bother you?”

“Is it still an open investigation?” 

“I know there’s more to the story,” Rick says, finally making eye contact. 

Daryl looks away, letting her hair fall in front of her eyes. She chews on her lip in thought. “What’s wrong with ‘em?” She nods toward Carl.

“He’s sick. I was taking him home from school when we broke down.”

“Ah, shit, man. He needs a bed. Let me smoke real quick, and I’ll drop y’all off at home.”

Before Rick can say anything, Daryl is out the door with a cigarette hanging from her lip and flicking her lighter to life. 

“Thank you, seriously,” Rick says, ducking his head to meet Daryl’s eyes.

“S’ just a ride, man.” She shrugs and nods at Carl as he exits the back seat, muttering his thanks between his sniffles. “You look like shit, Kid. Get some rest.”

“Feel like death,” Carl replies, holding his arms out and dragging his foot on the ground. He groans and snaps his teeth at his father. Rick jerks back and pushes him away with a palm to his forehead. “Ow!”

“You’ll live.”

Daryl’s lips twitch into an intimate smile, and her eyes soften. Rick rubs his hands on his pants, trying to pass it off as getting Carl’s sweat off to cover up his nerves. He wets his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth.

“I’d–I’d like to take you out sometime… as a thanks.” 

Daryl’s brows frown together. “Don’t need to do all that, man.”

Rick musters up the courage to look her in the eyes, speaking in a low voice, “Then not as a thanks. Just as a… well, just because .” Rick swallows, tapping his fingers against his knee. 

While hiding behind her bangs, Daryl chews her lip and she analyzes his face. God, is this what it feels like to be interrogated? Even though it's likely only a few seconds, it feels like an eternity. Sitting on that cold tile in the lobby was less painful.

“Like… as a date?” she whispers.

Nodding, Rick takes a shaky breath. “If you’re okay with that, yeah.”

Daryl nods back, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. She looks out the window to hide her face, but Rick can see her shy smile in the rear-view mirror before she turns back to him with a carefully placed neutral mask. “At Hilltop, or?”

“Wherever you want.” Rick smiles. He can’t help it. His heart feels like it's going to explode into a melted mess. “I just want to spend time with you.”

“Hilltop’s fine.” Daryl wets her lips, briefly gazing at Rick’s lips before looking away again. “Tomorrow?”’

“Does eight work for you? I know it's late, but I get off work at five, and I don’t want to smell like sweat.”

Snorting, Daryl looks over at him with a lopsided grin. “Yeah, ‘cause I smell like daisies right now.”

Rick shrugs, smiling back. “I like the scent of oil and tires. Smells like hard work.”

“Stop.”

“I like what I like.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” She shakes her head and leans against the driver-side door, placing her fingers in front of her lips. “Does this cheesy shit usually work for ya?”

“I haven’t flirted with anyone in almost sixteen years.” Rick puts his hands up. “Sorry if I’m a little rusty.”

Daryl scoffs. “Get out of my truck.”

“I’m serious! Married Carl’s mom my sophomore year of college and divorced three years ago. I’ve been too chicken shit to talk to you so yeah, I’m rusty.”

“You been eyein’ me?”

Now it’s Rick’s turn to look unimpressed. “Come on.”

Daryl hides her smile behind her hand. “Get out.”

“Fine.” Rick exits the truck, but leans inside through the window. “But I’m leaving because I want to, not because you told me to.”

Daryl playfully smacks Rick’s hat down to cover his mischievous eyes. “Nothin’ but trouble,” she grumbles as he steps back to adjust his hat. By the time he fixes it, she’s out of sight. 

Chapter Text

Hilltop is rather crowded for a Thursday night. All the booths are claimed, forcing Rick to pick a less than ideal table near the bar. Most people are still in their work clothes, spread out throughout the room. Normally, people mingle and small groups become big ones, but tonight everyone is keeping to themselves. Even the dance floor is clear because the music is too low to make out any words. It's casual and intimate despite the influx of patrons. 

Rick slings his dark brown jacket over the back of his chair before taking his seat. He scrolls through his phone until Daryl arrives twenty minutes later, right on time. As she enters, she wipes her boots on the black mat and brushes her hair behind her pierced ears. Delicate diamonds and one cuff twinkle under the dim bar light. While her eyes glide across the room, she wets her lips and picks underneath her nails. When her eyes land on Rick, they widen, taking him in with a small smile. 

Tara helped him pick his outfit out. He didn’t tell her details, but she put two and two together, promising not to tease him if she got an update afterward. Rick is wearing a dark blue button-up Tara said brings out his eyes and black jeans. Nothing special. Not because Daryl doesn’t deserve to see him at his best, solely because this is his best. He doesn’t own anything nicer except the suit he wears to funerals. 

Daryl on the other hand looks like she always does—effortlessly breathtaking. Her eyes are outlined in black, and a peach color adorns her lips. He doesn’t know enough about makeup to be more specific. Daryl’s shoulder-length hair is straightened with a gorgeous, healthy shine, and the stubble from yesterday is missing. She’s wearing a winged leather vest with the arms cut out and a black button-up, revealing her collarbone down to the slight curve of her breasts. 

Once Rick’s brain reboots, he stands to pull out her seat. She tilts her head, squinting at him. He motions for her to sit with a sheepish smile. She does and her eyes track him until he takes his seat across from her.

“I can pull out my own chair.”

“I know.” This is not how he wanted the night to start. “My father told me to always pull out a woman’s chair for her. Sorry if I came off condescending.”

“M’ teasing ya. Was taught that too.” The corner of her lips twitch upward as she looks up at him, humor alive in her eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Rick blurts out. “Thanks for meeting me tonight.”

“Didn’t have anything better to do,” she jokes, at least Rick thinks it's a joke.

“Before we talk further, what do you want me to call you?” Rick’s pondered that question ever since he found out her legal name. His stomach turns every time he thinks about possibly deadnaming her. 

“Daryl’s fine. Some people call me Dare, or Dee. Don’t matter to me. Same with pronouns.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“Dee is what most people call me when I’m dressed feminine an’ I like any pronouns. Michonne and Carol like to mix it up. Just make sure to use he/him when I’m at work n’ stuff.”

“I’ve been using she/her and calling you a woman in my mind. Does that bother you?”

“Nah, but I’m not really a woman. Not fully a man either. M’ just… me. Both, I guess.”

“Are you newly transitioning?” Rick asks, but then puts his hand up. “Wait, don’t answer that. I realize that might’ve sounded wrong. Sorry, I’m new to all this.”

“You’re fine, man. Stop overthinking. I’m not gonna break if you say something off. I live with a pair of fuckin’ Nazis. I promise you I’ve been called worse.” 

Frowning, Rick bites his tongue and lets her continue. 

“M’ not like, on hormones or anything. I couldn’t get away with all that at the house. I can’t even hide the shit I’ve got now.” She breathes out a humorless chuckle. “But you already know that.”

Toeing the line, Rick asks, “Was that what the fight with Merle was about?”

“Kinda.” She sighs and leans back in her chair, folding one leg over the other to rest her ankle on her knee. “Pops found some of my clothes ‘n makeup. Sent him into a frenzy. When I got home, he had his shotgun out, flailing it around, spewin’ shit I won’t repeat. Told me to get out and don’t come back. When I tried to leave, he put his hands on me. I didn’t make it far. Don’t know when he left. I just remember waking up in the laundry room to Merle pounding on the door. My limbs felt like lead. Eventually, he got in and found me.”

Rick’s experience working with domestic violence victims is the only reason he is able to keep his cool through Dee’s story. 

“Sorry,” Dee mutters, bringing her thumb to her mouth to chew on the skin. “I’ll shut up.”

“No, no, I like hearing you speak. Your accent is so thick it's like honey.” He gives her a tight-lipped smile, leaning forward to rest his arms against the table. “I won’t lie though, I’ve wanted to know what happened to you, but hearing it is hard.”

“M’ not good at this stuff.”

“Me neither.” Rick tentatively brushes their knees together. “But we’ll figure it out. Let’s start with a drink. You like rum and coke, right?”

“You have been eyein’ me. Stalker,” Daryl teases.

After Rick retrieves their drinks from Jesus, the bartender, Rick takes a larger than normal sip to ease the tension in his muscles. 

“I wanna make it clear, m’ not looking to press charges or nothin’. I’m just tellin’ ya ‘cause I know it’s weighin’ on ya, and I don’t want y’all snoopin’ around no more. Need to move on.”

“And I respect that. You’re the victim here,” Daryl grimaces at the word, “and we take that into consideration. Merle and William are still awaiting trial. I can’t do a whole lot right now. My job is just to gather facts for the prosecutor.”

“Is that what you’re doin’ now?” Dee asks, bringing her drink to her lips, but waits to take a sip.

“No,” Rick replies. He tries to keep his body language open and friendly to prevent any doubt. “It was me who wouldn’t drop the case and kept digging because I thought you were in danger. I’ve kept your identity and our connection here,” he motions to the bar, “secret because your safety is my number one priority.” He holds Dee’s gaze. “I can’t know what direction to lead the case or what to avoid without knowing all the facts first. I promise you, Dee, I’m doing what I can.”

She nods and finally sips her drink. Condensation runs down her glass, and she swipes at it with her thumb. “Merle ain’t like Pops. He knows. He doesn’t know what he knows, but he knows enough, if that makes sense. Merle’s protective, that’s all. We get into it sometimes, but it's out of love. When he found me, he wanted to take me to urgent care. I refused ‘cause we just didn’t have the money. That’s why we were fightin’. He wasn’t putin’ his hands on me.”

“M’ pleasantly surprised,” Rick says, leaning back in his chair. “Would’ve thought he’d be more prejudiced.”

“He ain’t goin’ to any pride parades, but he doesn’t let anyone mouth off to me either.”

“That’s a low bar, but better than nothing.”

Daryl shrugs. “I don’t need his approval to live my life.”

Rick’s gaze softens, and he bumps their knees together again, this time letting his touch linger. “I love that. Really. I–”

“Don’t start sayin’ I’m inspirational, or I’ll lay your ass out and leave,” Daryl interrupts with a stern look.

Rick holds his hands up and crosses his heart. “I won’t! I was gonna say, I’ve been getting better about that myself. I’m not out and proud, but I’m not in the closet either. The people who need to know, know and the people who don’t, don’t. I only tell people if I’ve got a reason to.”

“What are you anyway?” 

Rick snorts at her blunt nature. “Bisexual. I knew back in high school but I didn’t test the waters until after my divorce.”

“Does Carl know?”

“Nah, I haven’t had a reason to bring it up.”

“No boyfriends?”

“No girlfriends either,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t done much dating.”

“Just fucking,” Daryl says with her brows raised.

Rick chokes on his drink then rubs his burning chest. He replies in a hoarse voice, “No! I–” Where should he start? He dabs away the spots on his shirt and pants while he collects his thoughts. “I have slept around. Men, women, people in between. Not many, but enough to know without a doubt what I like. My problem is I’m not into one-night-stands or friends with benefits. I’m a romantic. I like the chase of building something with someone and the stability.”

‘A family man at heart,’ Shane used to call him.

Daryl nods in a way Rick can’t tell if it’s in agreement or acknowledgment, so he asks, “What are you lookin’ for?”

“Not really lookin’ at all,” she sighs and adjusts in her seat. The movement makes her wince and she gingerly touches her ribs. Before Rick can ask if she’s okay, she continues, "I take opportunities as they come to me.”

“Well, when you agreed to meet me tonight, what were you hoping would happen?” Rick flicks his eyes from her hands to her eyes, but she looks away, chewing her lip. Rick lets her take her time answering.

“To fuck,” Dee says in one quick breath like it took all her courage to say it. “I didn’t hold my breath past that.”

“What if I didn’t want to sleep with you tonight, and I said I wanted to take you on another date instead?”

Dee scoffs. “You some puritan? Once you’ve fucked you can’t do it again cause ‘m tainted goods?”

“No, no! What I mean is, what if I didn’t want a one-night stand? I–” he struggles to find his words so he decides to be blunt like her. “I want to fuck you.” 

Dee’s eyes widen, and she swallows. One of her locks falls in front of her eye, but she doesn’t move it, she’s too busy staring at Rick’s lips as he continues. 

“Or get fucked by you. I don’t care. But I want to go on dates too and see where this goes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful and mysterious.” 

She chuckles, casting him an amused look.

“You have a–a–a presence about you. One that I can’t really describe. You’re alluring even though your body language is guarded. Carl liked you too and that’s a big thing for me.”

Dee picks at the peeling sealant covering the wood. “You’re gonna get laid tonight. You don’t need to keep goin’.”

“I’m not saying all this to get laid.” Rick reaches out to cover her hand with his. Daryl’s skin is rough. The hands of a hard worker, a provider . Someone willing to do hard things to make ends meet and to protect others. “I’m saying it because it's true, and you need to hear it.” 

Dee still won’t look at him. Her gaze is on their hands as she chews her lip. Her muscles are tense, frozen at the contact. Mustering up courage he doesn’t recognize from himself, Rick uses his other hand to cup her cheek. His thumb gently pulls her lip from between her teeth, and she looks at him with wide eyes before dropping to his lips. One moment, there is a table between them, the next their lips are pushed together. Rick pulls back just enough to catch her lustful gaze. He’s over halfway spread across the table, meaning she met him part of the way. A smile spreads across his face, causing his eyes to crinkle. 

Dee meets his lips again, this time with more force. Their noses brush against each other’s cheeks. Her hand curls around the back of his neck. Rick’s beard isn’t full grown, but it isn’t stubble either. Her thumb traces the edge of his jawline where his neck and ear meet, toying with the hairs. Goosebumps rise, and he pants against her mouth. Seeing the opportunity to deepen the kiss, she slips her tongue inside, spiraling and flicking it against his. He groans at the contact even though his back and knees ache from the awkward position. 

“Outside, now.” She demands and gets up to pay for their drinks, leaving Rick breathless and bewildered. 

“Hey, wait! I was gonna pay!” 

Chapter Text

“We’re takin’ your car,” Dee says. “Where’s it at?”

Rick points, still in a daze from how quickly things are moving. “Why mine?”

“Less likely to get caught,” she says. Rick assumes she means because her motorcycle would be easily spotted at Rick’s apartment, but no. 

Oh, boy was he wrong. 

A few miles down the road in Rick’s 1990 Chevrolet Caprice with Dee’s firm grip on the crotch of his pants, he realizes what she meant. His hands tighten around the wheel, and he bites his lip to keep his groan inside. The zipper slides down with ease, and Dee pulls him out of his underwear. The cool air of the car makes his cut cock twitch. He’s only half hard, but that doesn’t deter his partner. Dee leans over, spitting directly on the tip before polishing the head.

“ Ngh! Daryl, ” he groans, throwing his head back against the seat, and unintentionally applying more pressure to the pedal. They fly down the road. “ Fuck, we should stop.”

She continues stroking him, root to tip, making sure to twist her wrist. “Should, but do you want me to?”

Rick can hardly think with her hand working him, let alone answer. His chest rises and falls with the rapid beat of his heart. Heat radiates from the tips of his ears and sweat drips down his hairy thighs.

“I need an answer, Rick, ” the sinful way she says his name sends all other thoughts away.

“Yes, no? Fuck, just fuck me, please– ” he bucks into her hand, huffing, “ –don’t stop! ”

Licking her lips, she leans down and takes him into her mouth . Jesus Christ, Rick’s never been more aroused. Her tongue circles his head, lightly sucking on the tip–just enough to make his knuckles go white before she kitten-licks over the slit like a virgin. She slaps him against her outstretched tongue and groans at the taste. Her hot breath against his hyper-sensitive head makes his brain foggy. 

Daryl leaves sloppy, wet kisses as she leisurely inches down to where his balls are. Rick scolds himself for not manscaping recently. Dee fondles them, pulling and squeezing until he is putty in her hands. His thighs tremble as she sticks her tongue out to rub along the underside of his cock where his vein throbs. After moving back up to the tip, she relaxes her jaw to suck him down her throat in one quick motion, catching him by surprise. His stomach muscles tighten, and he flinches forward.

“ Ngh-AHH! Hpmmm, ” Rick moans. Dee answers with one of her own. The vibration makes his toes curl. Her rhythmic head bobbing, sucking him down until her nose smashes against his pubes, causes her hair to fall in front of her eyes. Feeling his dick settle against her throat, Rick’s eyelids are heavy as he tries to keep his attention on the road. He spares a quick glance down and almost cums at the sight of her dazzling blue eyes gazing up at him with his cock bulging against her cheek.     

Threading his fingers through Dee’s hair, he grabs her by the root and pulls her off with an obscene pop. She groans, eyes rolling back as she pants. A thick line of drool from the corner of her mouth connects to his aching member. She licks her swollen lips to break it and allows the line of drool to swing between them. The sight is hotter than anything he’s ever seen in porn and it’s happening in front of him . Hell, it’s happening to him ! Holy shit…the woman of his dreams (literally) is sucking on his cock like she needs it to survive. Rick is lightheaded at the thought.

“ Rick, ” she moans, palming herself through her jeans.

“M’ gonna cum if you keep doing that,” Rick says, face in flames. “Need to slow down.”

“Fine,” she mutters with a frown before putting her boots on his dash to shimmy her pants down her muscular thighs. 

“What are you–” but the words die in his throat once he sees the heart-shaped glass butt plug. One hand rubs her left nipple to hardness under her shirt while the other slowly eases the plug out. She places the diamond rim into her mouth so she can fish out the small bottle of lube from her jeans. Once found, she liberally applies it to her fingers and re-coats the plug. A drop drips onto her chest where the top buttons are open, leaving behind a thin trail as it slides down her breastbone. Is it wrong Rick wants to cup her small breasts in his hands to lick it off? 

“Eyes on the road, Officer ,” she teases, but the words are muffled around the plug. Her panting becomes heavier as she eases two fingers inside her well-stretched hole. They disappear inside without any resistance, greedily sucking each digit deeper. Her palm slaps against her perineum, sending shock-waves up her spine. The waves build on top of each other, amplifying the next until she’s a sweaty mess. Her hair sticks to her forehead, and her jaw is slack from the never-ending broken moans tearing out of her throat. She adjusts her angle to pick up the pace. Daryl throws her head back, legs shaking as she meets each thrust with her hips. 

“ I need you ,” she pants, breathless. “ I need you inside me. Ngh–fuck! ”

Pre-cum dribbles out of Rick’s tip. His aching member pulses, begging for the same thing. Even in his dreams, he could’ve never imagined how fucking beautiful and perfect–messy and broken, Daryl is in bed. Feeling emboldened, Rick reaches over to caress her cheek. She leans into the embrace. Goosebumps rise on his arm from her hot breath on his wrist. He brushes her hair behind her ear before trailing down her neck. After swallowing the lump of lust in her throat, the wolf exposes the part of herself she protects the most to him. Her vulnerability stirs the beast within him. Rick wants to bite back, make her lose control under his fingertips too. 

A battle for dominance. 

Without taking his eyes off the road, Rick trails his hand over her prominent collarbones to roughly grope her right breast. Dee arches toward the touch. Rick takes her nipple into his forefinger and thumb to roll the sensitive nub. The hand not fucking in and out of her reaches up to cover Rick’s. He pulls her nipple, forcing her to unstick herself from the leather seat, and releases to let the snap shock her system. Rick repeatedly abuses her nipple until her fingers curl around his to guide him to her other nipple to provide the same treatment. But this time, when Rick latches on to the nub, he twists, digging his nails in. The plug drops from her mouth as she half-screams half-moans, cumming without ever touching her member. Ropes of white shoot across the curves of her soft abs. 

But Rick isn’t finished. 

Using Dee’s cum as lube, Rick strokes her hyper-sensitive cock with a loose grip, only wrapping his forefinger and thumb around to allow the other digits to fan out. He knows from experience the feather-light touch is ten times worse than if he were to squeeze every last drop out. All the air flees Daryl’s lungs. Her eyes roll back as her body ascends to a plane of existence she can only describe as purgatory–the edge between heaven and hell. Her knees slam together, trembling, and she holds his wrist and upper arm in an iron grip. His hand tightens around her tip, squeezing a drop of cum out and ripping another moan from her, leaving her light-headed. 

Rick sucks the drop into his mouth while making eye contact in the mirror. His smirk is wicked and goddamn does she love it. The adrenaline allows her to forget the bruises on her ribs and the burn of daring to breathe. If anything, the pain amplifies Dee’s ecstasy because if there is one thing everyone knows about the Dixons, it’s that they are fighters, and you can’t be a good fighter if you’re afraid to get hurt. If Rick wants to battle for dominance, Daryl will gladly put him in his place.  

“Two points for me,” Rick says, licking his lips.

“Two? The hell kind-of score is that?”

“One for making you cum first, the other for making you cum untouched.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Daryl mutters, pushing the plug back into place with a content sigh. She rests her head against his shoulder and allows him to take her hand in his, threading their fingers together. “We’ll see how many times you cum once our lives ain’t on the line. I’ve been goin’ easy on ya.”

“Yeah?” Rick asks, mouth going dry. He swallows and squeezes her hand. 

“Mhm, kept ya on the edge so you wouldn’t drive off the road like an idiot. I ain’t a one pump chump like you.”

“You’re a none pump chump,” Rick fires back.

Dee tries to hold in her laughter, but she breaks and playfully smacks his chest. Her eyes wander back to his cock, standing tall and waiting for attention. To be mean, she blows on the tip, grinning at how he twitches.

“Stop that,” Rick grunts.

“What? M’ not doin’ nothing.”

“Mhm.” Rick shakes his head. 

After a moment, she does it again, and Rick squeezes her hand as a warning. Dee licks her lips. They’re almost to the busier side of town. The possibility of getting caught is much higher, but it's late at night. The darkness should cover their asses (literally) so, using the hand not tangled with Rick’s, she lightly strokes Rick’s member with the same dirty tactic he used on her.

Even though Rick’s lips are sealed, his high-pitched, throaty moans fill the car. He tries to pull his hand from hers to cover himself but she holds him in place. Rick is at Dee’s mercy. The most intimate parts of himself are exposed for her to toy with as she pleases and there’s nothing he can do about it. Pressure builds in his lower stomach. His hips jerk to fuck into her fist. He’s never felt so out of control, so needy in his life. Rick will take whatever she gives him and thank her for it like a good boy because from the first night he laid eyes on her, he’s been hers. 

The chemistry between them is electrifying. Rick is a teenager with a crush on the tomboy who would forget his name as soon as she heard it. He’s the friendly nerd everyone loves, and she’s the unknowable shadow lurking in the back of his mind, face illuminated by the cherry tip of her cigarette. Rick is obsessed with her–maybe to an unhealthy extent, but he can’t stop, not now. 

Dee’s skin against his isn’t enough. He needs to be inside her as one. Daryl’s shown she can take care of herself, but he wants to show her he can too. Rick can help mend any wounds, physical and mental. He can watch her back and lead her forward to the future she deserves. Rick can stand on her left with her at his right hand as equals–partners. Rick’s throat constricts around the words he wants to say. His balls tighten, and his dick is an angry red. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, dripping down Dee’s knuckles. 

“ I can’t– ” he begs. His mind goes blank. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease–fuck! OH FUCK!”   Rick forgets how to breathe as headlights drive toward them. Based on the elevated height, he’d guess a truck, but right now all he can think about is how tight every muscle in his body is from trying not to cum. 

The hitch in Dee’s breath lets him know she sees them too. They’re blindingly close. Dee lets go of his hand to shield her face, and she ducks down to lap up the pre-cum covering his quivering cock. 

“ D-Daryl! ” Rick’s voice cracks. Her hot, wet tongue against him and the fear of being caught pushes him over the edge like a punch to the gut. His lips part in a silent cry. Against all odds, as the vehicles are side by side, Rick’s eyes meet the driver of the other car for a split second. A second he’ll never forget for the rest of his life because it's the second time his life has come crashing down at the hands of Shane motherfucking Welch.

Chapter Text

Stars dance in Rick’s vision but there is no mistaking who the driver was. Pin prickles emanate from the tips of his fingers down to the calloused pads of his toes, even the top of his head tingles. The hair on his arms stands in attention as if staying still might make his body disappear, but his legs won’t stop trembling. An orgasm this strong would normally make Rick want to lay down and close his eyes until his alarm clock screams at him for the millionth time. Instead, he feels energized, like if he closes his eyes for too long, his rapidly beating heart might give out. 

“That was close,” Daryl huffs. Her tongue swipes at the cum– Rick’s cum–dripping down the corner of her mouth. His spent dick twitches, not giving him the decency to get soft first. Here he is in his early 40s acting like a teenager who has only seen boobs in magazines now seeing them in real life for the first time. Though, not a trace of shame curls inside him as the tail lights are swallowed by the darkness. How could he be ashamed when he’s got the hottest person in the world sucking his dick, begging for him to make her cum, and he did, damn it! Pride swells in his chest. 

It’s been a long time since he felt proud of something he did. 

“How much longer?” she asks.

“Bout five minutes, give or take.”

“Wake me in five then.” She slouches back in her seat to shuffle her pants back up her tights and kick her boots on to the dash. Crumbs of dried mug crumble off, but Rick can’t find it in himself to care.

True to his word, when they arrive at his apartment, Rick gently rubs Daryl’s shoulder to wake her. Groaning, she blinks the sleep from her eyes. 

“You wanna stay the night?”

Her face scrunches up. “Isn’t that what we were gonna do?”

“I mean sleep. Really sleep, not just go at each other like bunnies.”

“M’ fine. Told ya I’d put you in your place.” She opens up her door and slides out. 

Chuckling, Rick follows her lead. “I’m happy to wait till next time. Keep me on my toes for when you’ll pounce.”

“We’ll see.”

Inside, Daryl toes her shoes off while Rick hangs up their jackets. Arms wrap around Rick’s waist, rubbing his round belly. He swallows and tilts his head, leaning into her embrace as she kisses his neck. He tries to kick off his boots, but they catch around his ankles, nearly dislocating his foot from his use of force. Dee’s soft lips curl into a smile against him, and she presses her hips against his ass. His breath hitches. He bites his lip and pushes back, forgetting about his shoes for a moment. Her teeth sink into the tender flesh. Gasping, he clutches onto her forearms for support as his knees go weak. Breathy moans fill the air. Her left hand wanders to the growing tent in his pants while her other wraps tighter around him, holding him in place to toy with him as she pleases. Stroking the outline of his length, Dee’s sinful lips travel from his shoulder to his ear, whispering, “You want me to take you right here?”

His voice cracks from his half whine, half moan response. Her hands grip his hips, and her thumbs dig into his back muscles, forcing him to arch his back. He lets gravity take him as he falls forward. His palms collide with the wall louder than he expected causing his face to flush. God, what do his neighbors think? A moment later, all thoughts leave him as Daryl sucks his ear into her mouth. She nips at the shell before flicking her tongue inside. Electricity zips down his spine. He shivers, eyes rolling back, and his right hand reaches out to thread his fingers in her soft, thick hair. 

“ Fuck ,” Rick pants, twisting his neck so their lips brush against each other. “I need you.”

Daryl’s chest trembles against his back at the words. Rick claims her lips, turning her moment of weakness against her to regain an inch of control. She moans into the kiss. His lips are puffy and raw when she pulls away. The absence of her heat against them makes him chase after her despite the spots in his vision and his protesting neck muscles. He sinks his teeth into her lower lip and grins at the sound she makes. Dee grinds against his perked ass and runs her hands up his chest to his nipples to tease the buds. Each twist makes his cock jump. He releases his grip on her to unbutton his pants. Once Dee realizes what he’s doing she kicks his legs further apart, causing him to grasp the wall in front of him for stabilization again. She hooks her fingers under the waistband digging into his love handles and shoves his underwear below his ass cheeks. Following the motion, Dee falls to her knees to grope the newly exposed flesh. 

Gulping, Rick tries to slow his rapidly beating heart. Oh god, what if he farts? It happens sometimes when he’s nervous. If he fucking farts in Daryl’s face, he’s going to change his name and leave town. His hole tightens at the thought. Dee continues to knead his cheeks, his fat bulging through her spread fingers. Pale pink marks are left behind. By cupping her thumbs under the crease of his ass with her other fingers splay to the sides, she makes his ass bounce like something he’d see in a shitty porno. 

Rick buries his face in his arms. Dear god, no one has ever touched him like this–treated him like something to be admired and adored in such an erotic way. He’s a toy for her pleasure, and he wouldn’t want to be anything else. A bead of cum collects at his tip. He glares down at it, watching as his aching cock bobs up and down with the bouncing of his ass. His hips involuntarily jerk as Daryl bites his right cheek. To muffle himself, Rick bites his forearm, but each hickey she sucks adds to the heat in Rick’s stomach. Daryl kisses each mark once she’s satisfied with the coloring. 

“Are ya clean?” Dee asks, lightly swatting Rick’s ass to see it jiggle. Rick never thought of his ass as having much meat on it but that clearly didn’t deter her. 

“Already told you that.” Rick peers out from his arm and almost wishes he hadn’t. Daryl’s hair is a mess, sticking to her glossy lips. His dick throbs at the sight.

She rolls her eyes and swats at his other cheek, making him tense up. “I meant your ass.”

“Uh, no?” He swallows his disappointment. “I really didn’t think we’d get this far.”

“S’fine.” Dee stands, massaging her knees. One of her fingers travels to his hole to rub at the muscle. She purrs into his ear, “ Next time .”

Not trusting himself to speak, he nods, promising to be better prepared. 

“You wanna do somethin’ else?” she asks, gently turning him around to meet her eye. Rick cups her jaw in one hand and presses on her lower back with the other. His pre-cum smears against her pants. 

“Take these off first,” he says before smashing their lips together again. Their lips slot together like they’d never meant to be parted. Rick blindly leads them toward the couch. They never take their hands off each other. Once Dee’s knees hit the cushion, she sits, breaking their lips apart to wipe at the line of spit on her chin. Rick towers over her. His knee traps her on one side while the other keeps him standing. He straightens to peel his sweat-drenched shirt off and grins at her sharp inhale. She presses her lips together and looks away. 

Chuckling, Rick tilts her chin toward him and briefly connects their lips again before taking her hands to place them on his chest. He squeezes her fingers, encouraging her to continue exploring while Rick works on fitting both their dicks into one hand. Tender flesh grinds against tender flesh. The tip of Daryl’s uncut cock rubs right under his cut cock as they roll their hips. His balls are squished between his ass and Dee’s thigh. The motion stirs the heat in his gut. 

Lost in the moment, Dee’s thighs tremble and her hips start to involuntarily jerk, breaking the pace Rick’s trying so hard to maintain. Rick buries his nose into her cheek, panting and desperately toeing the edge. Dee mindlessly moans in his ear, unable to keep quiet as the pressure inside builds. One more twist of Rick’s wrist is all it takes. Neither can tell who came first, but of course, they’ll say the other if they’re still keeping score. 

Rick’s legs are jelly from staying in one position for too long. He rolls over to lay horizontally on the couch with his legs in Dee’s lap. Her head is still thrown back, chest heaving and eyes half open. No one has ever looked more beautiful. Rick mentally traces the outline of her eyelashes, down her nose and over her mole to the shine on her lips. His own tingle with desire, but she’s too far away. Instead, he takes her hand in his and leaves a sloppy kiss to her knuckles. Dee tilts her head to look at him. The corner of her mouth twitches into a barely there smile, and her eyes crinkle. Rick’s heartbeat picks up again. As he swallows, her eyes follow the movement, and she licks her lips. Their eyes meet again. 

Something passes over Dee’s face too quickly for him to decipher. She chews on her lower lip and looks away. Rick squeezes her hand to let her know whatever she’s thinking is okay, but she pulls her hand away to tuck herself back into her underwear. As she stands to pull her pants up, she flinches and clutches her side. Taking slow, even breaths through her nose, she waits for the moment to pass to finish her task. 

“Need some Tylenol? Or ibuprofen?” Rick asks, sitting up on his elbows. “Is it your ribs?”

She grunts. 

“I’ll get you a glass of water. There’s medicine in the bathroom down the hall on the right. You can go on and take a shower too. Let the warm water relax ‘em a bit.” 

“Thanks,” she mutters and heads down the hall. 

The bathroom door is cracked when Rick arrives with a glass of water in hand. He knocks on the frame and waits until Daryl peaks her head out. It's kinda cute how shy she is all of a sudden, but a part of him worries he might’ve done something wrong. 

“Find everything?”

“Yeah.” She takes the water and downs all but a quarter of it. “Thanks again.”

“No problem. I’ll take a shower after you. Do you want me to leave a pair of pants outside the door?”

“That’ll work.”

Rick nods and turns to head down the hallway to his bedroom, but Daryl calls out in a hoarse voice, “Hey, huh, mind if I borrow a shirt too?”

“Sure. One shirt, coming up!” he jokes but the door closes before he finishes. 

Five minutes later, Dee has her hair wrapped in a towel, rolling the empty glass between her palms. Her clothes are tucked under her armpit. Rick’s t-shirt and loose drawers fit her well enough, but they hide her curves. Traces of makeup still paint her features. Rick makes a mental note to buy some makeup wipes next time he goes to the store. The faint aroma of Rick’s Old Spice body wash on her makes him want to bury his nose in her neck and claim her once again. She looks beautiful, and he tells her. 

She exhales through her nose sarcastically saying, “Look like a drowned rat. Where should I put this? Want me to wash it out?”

“Keep it. You can use it again in the morning since it was just water.”

Humming in agreement, she places it on the counter to rearrange her stuff. 

“Need a bag? I have one of those big Panara ones they use for catering. We had an event last week at work, and I may or may not have snuck one home.”

“Hypocrite!”

“Hush.” Rick winks and rummages around the pantry until he finds it. “So, you’re welcome to sleep in the bed with me, but you’re also welcome to use the couch if you want. Or I can sleep on the couch and you take the-”

Dee cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “I don’t care as long as I gotta pillow. Up to you, man.”

Rick shifts his weight from foot to foot, wishing he had something to do with his hands. “I’d like you to sleep in the bed with me.”

“S’ fine. I sleep on my stomach though. Sometimes, I get restless an’ need to pace. Might get up in the middle of the night.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “M’ the same way. I get nightmares on occasion, and I’ll sit outside on the steps. Do whatever you need to do. I’d just like to cuddle if it won’t aggravate your injuries.”

“Ain’t much of a cuddler. I sweat a lot, but I’ll live. Just don’t be offended if I push ya off after a while.”

“Noted.” Rick chuckles. “I’mma take my shower. Feel free to look around and make yourself at home, just don’t open the last door on the right. That’s Carl’s room.”

As steam rises off Rick’s flushed skin, he can’t keep his smile off his face. There is an airy presence in his body from the weight of unnamed burdens being lifted, ones he didn’t realize he was still carrying. He is whole again, but lighter, even if it is only temporary. As odd as it sounds, the best way to describe this feeling is he finally feels like his body is his. He is in control. Alive and well. Using his towel, Rick wipes away the fog on the mirror. Droplets race down over his reflection. His smile grows at the marks littering his body. Did Dee mean to leave so many? He turns to view his left ass cheek and sharply inhales at the sight. 

“Jesus,” he mutters and presses against one of the many bruises, groaning at the ache. Taking a deep breath, he admires himself in a new light. He’d never thought of himself as particularly handsome. Nothing about him was special. But in the afterglow, he does feel handsome. All his body hair, moles, and stretch-marks don’t matter as much when the woman of his dreams clearly doesn’t care. Why should he then? 

When Rick enters the bedroom, he finds it empty. He shakes off his disappointment and turns the ceiling fan on. The whorling sound settles deep within him. After yawning into his arm, he changes into a pair of basketball shorts and searches for Daryl. She’s on the couch, resting her cheek on her hand while scrolling through her phone. His footsteps cause her to look up. She doesn’t smile, but her eyes do soften. Like the idiot Rick is, he waves with a fond smile of his own. Snorting, Dee stands to follow him into the bedroom.

“I hope you don’t mind the fan.” He points to the ceiling. “It helps me sleep.”

“Nah, it’ll keep me cool for your cuddles.” Dee folds back the sheet and top blanket to crawl under. 

Rick settles on to his back, opening his arms to hold her. After a moment of hesitation, Dee sides next to him, pressing her chest against his side and laying her head on his arm. Rick shifts to allow her head on his shoulder and tames her wild hair away from his nose. 

“You smell good,” he comments, absentmindedly de-tangling her hair with his fingers.

“It’s your body wash,” she huffs in amusement. 

Her body is rigid and tense, so Rick trails his fingers down to rub her muscular arm. 

“I don’t know what to do with my hands,” she mutters, chewing on her lip. 

Using his other hand, he places her hand on his stomach and holds it there, tracing patterns into her skin. He closes his eyes to memorize her protruding veins and bony knuckles. “Do whatever you wanna do.”

Dee takes a deep breath and hesitantly crosses her leg over his. Rick moves the hand that was over top hers to rub his thumb over her clothed thigh. Humming contently, she becomes more bold by playing with his happy trail. Rick can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face. He kisses the top of her head, whispering, “Goodnight.”

She makes a noise of acknowledgment as her body finally settles against his. The whorl of the fan and her soothing touch bring him into a foggy limbo state, not quite asleep, but not awake either. Despite how exhausted he is, his mind continues to interrogate him, replaying their night together to criticize every little thing. His lower back aches from being so stiff and his shoulder is starting to fall asleep when Daryl whispers, “I can hear you thinking.” 

“Hm?” 

Dee shifts onto her stomach, freeing his numb arm, and clutches one of the pillows to her chest, deeply inhaling his scent. “Need to sit on the stairs?” she asks.

Sighing, Rick shifts onto his side to face her. He can’t see her in the darkness but he can tell he has her full attention. “No. M’ just over thinkin’.”’

“Bout tonight?”

“Yeah.” He reaches out for her hip but finds her ribs instead. She flinches, but his touch is too light to hurt. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine. Just didn’t expect it.”

“What are you doin’ still up?”

“Same thing.”

Once he’s found her hip, he plays with the ridges of the waistband and the soft hairs peeking out from under her shirt. “I really enjoyed tonight,” he says.

Dee hums in agreement.

“I’d like to keep seeing you.”

She shifts again, leaning into his touch and tucking her hair behind her ear. “What do you want from me, Rick?” her voice is raw, more raw than she likely intended to sound. She clears her throat.

“Told you at the bar. I want to go on more dates, bring you home every once and a while if you want, and try to make something out of this with you. I don’t want a one-time thing.” The words flow a little easier in the pitch black. He said similar words over and over in his head since he’d first seen her months ago. In his fantasies, he was confident, but humble–gentle and alluring. Everything he wishes he was. 

“Okay,” she whispers like a promise.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Her smile is clear in her tone. 

Rick scoots closer and she meets him halfway, taking his face into her hands to breathe in each other’s air. Their foreheads press against each other and their noses brush. 

“You’ll be here in the morning, right?” Rick asks, fingers tightening around her waist. 

Dee huffs out a laugh, “Where else would I be?” 

'Still in my dreams,’ Rick thinks.