Part Two

Daryl didn't have many positive memories of waking up. At the best, it was bitter cold or overwhelming heat that would shake him out of his slumber. At worst, the shouts of his father from the adjoining room. The groans of walkers approaching.

Warmth and comfort were words Daryl would never have associated with awakening, but when he came to wrapped in Rick's arms, with a blanket thrown over his back and strong hands slowly rubbing his waist, they were all he could consider.

"Rick?" Daryl rasped. His voice cracked mid-syllable, and when he tried to raise his head, it fell back onto Rick's chest as if gravity and exponentially increased while he slept the day away.

The body below him shifted carefully, and then a hand was carding through his hair.

"Go back to sleep," Rick whispered.

"How...how long was I…?" Daryl muttered into Rick's chest.

"Not long enough," Rick cut him off, "The others can keep the prison running for a few hours. And Hershel knew we wouldn't be free again 'til sometime tomorrow. Sleep, okay? Just a little bit longer."

It was hard for Daryl to argue when he could barely force his tired bones into motion. Before he'd managed to respond, he was drifting back off, with Rick's fingers untangling his untameable locks.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Daryl awoke next, he arched his back and raised his arms above his head, surprising himself when the movement came easily. His body still felt overheated, and a little achy, but he was otherwise in good condition. He curled himself back into Rick's chest, never once opening his eyes.

Naked, Daryl's mind abruptly reminded him. You're naked in bed- or at least what passed as a bed, these days- with Rick fucking Grimes. That same Rick Grimes that had his hands and mouth all over you a few hours back. It was a situation Daryl had never allowed himself to consider in detail. Though, there had been fleeting moments over the years where he'd noticed himself staring at the ex-Sheriff a beat too long, admiring his body in a way that wasn't the least big platonic.

Worse than that were the times Daryl had admitted to himself that Rick was everything to him. That he'd follow the man anywhere, do anything he was asked. Loyalty so hard-earned that his own brother had never managed to achieve it. Because even though Daryl followed him obediently- and he had, for years- he'd never felt the same blind trust towards Merle that he had with Rick pretty much since day one.

But even if Rick was the most important person in his life, and even if Daryl found himself watching him in a way far too heated for friendship, the archer never fantasized. Never let himself consider, even briefly, that Rick might feel the same.

He'd been wrong, of course. Daryl had a pretty strong history of that when it came to understanding other people. Sometimes he wondered if he was really human at all, or if maybe there was something shook loose in his brain that made it difficult to decipher the feelings and unsaid words of those around him. When it came to emotions, his own and everyone else's, Daryl had always needed things spelled out for him. Still, Rick had never seemed to mind. Would explain to him with patience and gentle smiles everything he couldn't figure out for himself.

It shouldn't have been much of a surprise that if Rick had feelings for him, Daryl never saw it. But still, the high of knowing Rick might feel the same, even if those feelings were mainly carnal, had Daryl floating in a blissful haze. Rick's body was so warm and unyielding against him. And slowly, so much more slowly now that that burning need had evaporated from his system, Daryl hardened against Rick's hip.

It couldn't be helped. And even though Daryl was wary, ashamed even, nothing could make him give up his spot at Rick's side. The older man twitched and blinked his eyes. He turned his head and pressed his mouth against Daryl's temple.

"Hey," he breathed. Daryl grunted lowly in response. And then a second or two later, whispered with something like awe, "You're hard."

"Not like before," Daryl told him, "Don't hurt. S'just...good. Feels good."

"Daryl," Rick said, cupping the other man's cheek and waiting for him to open his eyes.

Daryl did, begrudgingly, and looked up at Rick with a hint of anxiety in his brow.

"What happened between us, it doesn't have to change anything," Rick said. And Daryl flinched, he knew he did, but Rick wouldn't let him pull away. "It doesn't have to, unless you want it to," Rick finished, holding his gaze. "It's up to you. Your choice."

Daryl licked at his lips. "You still want that with me?"

"Of course," Rick said, smiling.

"But," Daryl was quick to protest, "Ain't gonna be like before. Hard every six seconds like some coked up teenager."

"I don't need you to be," Rick said.

"Then, then what-" Daryl sighed in frustration, his words failing him again, "What do you want, then? What do you want me to be?"

"My partner," Rick replied. He chose the words carefully, as if plucked from a field of flowers. "Which I hate to tell you, but you kind of already are. Acknowledging it just means that I get to touch you, and that you get to touch me."

"What if I ain't never been like that with someone before?"

"Then we'll learn together. Relationships aren't about hard and fast rules. Being in one won't teach you to be with anyone. We do this, we're learning to be what the other person needs them to be. Together. Daryl Dixon and Rick Grimes."

"You're sure…"

"I'm sure," Rick cut him off. "You trust me?"

"'Course," Daryl replied. It was reflex. It was fact.

"Then trust what I'm saying," Rick said, with his eyes locked into Daryl's.

At long last, the archer dipped his head into a nod. "Alright," he rasped, and then Rick's lips were on his.

Everything moved so much slower now, felt more real now that Daryl had the time to enjoy it, the presence of mind to realize what was happening.

"Still need to get you off," Daryl said, stroking his hands over Rick's back.

"You don't owe me anything," Rick said, "And we've got all the time in the world."

Daryl sat up abruptly and let the blanket fall to their side. He knelt over Rick, hands shaking minutely as he reached for the older man's boxers.

"We don't, though," Daryl said, "And I don't wanna miss my chance."

So Rick let him, watched with glossed over eyes as the archer shed him of his last layer of clothing, and gazed languidly at Rick's prone form. He could see how thickly Daryl swallowed when his eyes finally landed on Rick's cock, still hard and flushed and begging to be touched. But Daryl found himself floundering again, at a loss for what to do next. So he did what came naturally- lay on his back and pulled Rick on top of him, showing, rather than telling, that he needed Rick to lead so he could follow.

"Want'cha," Daryl mumbled against Rick's lips.

"You've got me," Rick promised, "I'll give you whatever you want."

"I want. Want it, I-" Daryl spread his legs a little wider and gazed at Rick pitifully, hoping he'd understand. "Do you have anything?"

"I do," Rick said slowly, "But I thought maybe you'd want to-"

"Nah. S'better if, if I'm the one. And- and you're-" Daryl cut himself off again, flushing hard.

"I'll take good care of you," Rick whispered, before sitting up and grabbing for the bag of supplies. He procured a small bottle of lube and squirted a dollop onto his fingers. One of his hands settled on the inside of Daryl's splayed thighs, rubbing gently.

"You're sure?" Rick asked again, "We can do it the other way around."

Daryl shook his head. "S'better like this, for the first time. Feels right."

"It does," Rick agreed. And then in perfect time with Daryl's next exhale, a finger was carefully pressing inside.

Daryl let out a small noise of what could have been either distress or pleasure, and closed his eyes. The finger began to move, slowly, experimentally, and Rick peppered light kisses down the side of Daryl's face. The ex-Sheriff curved his finger knowingly, and watched as Daryl's cock twitched and jumped against his belly.

"Fuck," Daryl gasped, eyes shooting open. "Rick?"

"Feels good, huh?" Rick said, smiling down at him. One finger became two, a sharp sting followed by crippling waves of pleasure. Daryl had his feet planted on the ground, using whatever leverage he could to rock down against Rick's hand. He was panting now, gasping every time Rick pressed against that place inside of him, no matter how tightly he clamped his lower lip between his teeth.

"You look so good like this," Rick whispered, and then there was a third finger inside of him, but no pain. "I imagined it dozens of times, but this is so much better. Beautiful."

"I- m'not-" Daryl began to protest weakly.

"You are," Rick said definitively, then punctuated the statement with a kiss.

A pool of precum was steadily forming on Daryl's stomach, and Rick was pushing into him harder than before. His cock jerked hard, and a shot of precum spurted up his chest.

"S-stop," Daryl gasped, "Gotta stop."

Rick's fingers stilled inside of him. "Why?"

"Don't wanna come yet," Daryl muttered, avoiding Rick's eyes and blushing wildly.

But as always, Rick smiled at him with anything but mockery, and carefully pulled out of him. Daryl rolled onto his stomach as soon as he was free, and gazed at Rick over his shoulder.

"C'mon," Daryl said, begging, unashamed, but Rick's hand on Daryl's side urged the archer onto his back again.

"Not like that," Rick said, "I want to see you. Want to see everything I do to you." He settled himself between Daryl's legs, lubed cock in hand. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Daryl said. And as an afterthought, an instigator, "Please."

Rick let out a long breath through his nose, then slid inside of him painstakingly slowly, but still, Daryl threw his head back and keened. He held himself perfectly still once he bottomed out inside, staring down at Daryl with warmth in his eyes, waiting. Daryl wriggled a little in place, finding the sensation of being filled more curious than distressing.

"Move," Daryl urged, and Rick complied, dragging himself away from Daryl, and then bucking back towards him forcefully. The archer shouted and dug his nails into either of Rick's arms, holding on for the sake of his sanity.

Rick set up a slow rhythm, the slow pull back and quick shove back in. A flash of pleasure each time he hammered against Daryl's prostate. The ex-Sheriff propped himself over Daryl in a way the younger man could only categorize as protective, arms flat on either side of Daryl's head, shielding him from eyes of ghosts past. Daryl's eyes kept darting between Rick's face, bust open in some agony of pleasure and disbelief, and the place where their bodies met.

"Harder," Daryl demanded. He was tempted to reach down and touch himself, but there'd been too much of that in the last 24 hours. All he wanted to feel was Rick. "Fuck me, Rick. C'mon."

Rick's hips were slamming against his now, that tentative slide of before dissipated into something far more feral. The ex-Sheriff looked down between them, watched Daryl's member twitch and leak with each breathtaking movement.

"You're close," Rick said.

And even though it wasn't a question, Daryl still nodded rapidly, clutching Rick all the more tightly.

The older man reached down and wrapped a hand around Daryl's flushed erection, stroking in time with his thrusts.

"Rick!" Daryl moaned, and he pushed Daryl's hair out of his face, pressed his lips to his forehead.

"That's it," Rick groaned, "One more time for me. Want you to come all over my hand, Daryl. Show me you're mine."

And those words were just too fucking much. Daryl's eyes slammed shut. His legs clamped around Rick's hips, and he buried his face in Rick's neck as he came with a wail that resonated from deep in his chest.

"Fuck," Daryl sobbed repeatedly, "Oh god. God. God."

With Daryl tight as a vice around him, vibrating with his release, it was only a few seconds more before Rick was pumping his seed into Daryl's pliant body, and moaning in relief. They lay huddled together for some time, dozing in and out and kissing languidly whenever the urge struck them. It was a close to perfect as Daryl had ever felt.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Much to Rick's chagrin, Daryl insisted on heading out on a hunt as soon as they emerged from their hide out. He felt guilty, though he'd never say it outright, for letting that goddamn pollen distract him from providing for his family. He set out at dusk, leaving Rick pacing the fences, and returned just before dawn with a full-grown buck dragging behind him.

Despite the handful of naps he'd taken with Rick, Daryl was exhausted. He left the deer with a couple of new recruits to butcher and preserve, and slogged down towards his cell blearily. Daryl pulled up the curtain to his cell, isolated from all the others, and stopped in his tracks.

The room was empty. His handful of shirts and cargoes were gone, as well as the extra arrows he'd constructed over the last few weeks, and the handful of parenting books he'd shoved guiltily under the bed after Judith was born, determined not to fuck things up. His tools had vanished, extra knives dissolved into the concrete. The place was vacant, and Daryl was caught between blind anger and blatant panic.

Maybe the others had gotten tired of him. Maybe if he went outside, he'd find his things stacked next to his bike, ready for him to leave at first light and never return.

But this was a people problem. And there was only one person Daryl knew he could go to with that sort of thing. He trudged his way to Rick's cell, and pulled back the curtain without stopping to clear his throat.

Except what he saw had him tripping over his own feet. He caught himself on the side of Rick's bed and looked around with is brows scrunched together. It appeared that his short list of possessions had found a new home with Rick. His clothing was folded and stacked neatly, rather than shoved into a bag as he'd kept them. His arrows and weapons were laid out beside Rick's. His books were up on the shelf behind Judith's crib, and his toolbox was stuffed under the bed.

Suddenly, it became a lot harder to swallow, and Daryl coughed, choking on his own spit. The noise roused Rick, who rubbed at his eyes lazily as he sat up.

"You're back," he said, smiling. "Figured you'd find your way here."

"Brought back a buck," Daryl mumbled, "Should last the rest of the week."

"That's good," Rick said, but he was watching Daryl closely, could see better than anyone that the hunter was somewhere between confused and upset. "You had to know I'd want you here. With me."

Daryl opened his mouth, then shut it again. No, he hadn't realized that at all.

Rick pulled him closer by his hand, rubbing his thumb over Daryl's knuckles. "What did you think, then? When your things were missing?"

Daryl shrugged halfheartedly. "That I'd outstayed my welcome."

"Daryl," Rick said softly, and stood so they could see each other eye to eye. "We're your family. You can't outstay your welcome with us. And anyways, there's no place I'd rather have you than by my side."

Daryl gnawed at his lower lip, then asked, "Sure you want me in here? Gonna be trippin' over each other. Might start to get on your nerves."

"I want you with me," Rick told him fiercely, "Always."

And when Rick kissed him again, slow and gentle, Daryl knew he was telling the truth. He let the older man undress him, fret over every small scrape and bruise he'd gained out on the hunt. They settled into bed together, with Daryl pressed between Rick's strong body and the cool wall. And just before he drifted off, Daryl thought to himself that letting someone take care of him wasn't so bad afterall.