In the Sound

I couldn't remember a more awkward second of my life.

Lori's jaw hung low. Her eyes flickered between us before she slowly snapped her lips shut. I glanced at Daryl for a moment, he gripped his crossbow as tightly as ever. Lids locked on her. Saying that she knew about us was a damn understatement.

"Hey guys," she finally said. It was probably softer than she hoped, because my ears twitched in struggle to hear. "Why don't ya come on down to the house. We're all waitin' on ya."

Daryl finally came to sense. His elbows relaxed, crossbow drooping down to one hand. He swung it a little by his hip, almost like he was just getting used to the weight. His tense lock loosened into a slouch again, one knee cocked out. Dark eyes squinting at Lori in the distance.

I drew a long breath, "What for?"

Lori slipped a protective palm over her stomach, the tips of her fingers digging in a little. I imagined the little shit swimming around in there. Moving its weird alien head, wriggling its buggy fingers. A shiver slicked up my spine at the thought.

"It's about the boy."

At that, Daryl scoffed loudly. He shuffled in his spot, turning away to look at the dead game I'd left on the ground.

Randall. My fingers tingled at the thought. Maybe he was dead now. Maybe we were bargaining with his group. Would Bentley even care now? He was different. Everything was different. But it didn't change the churn I felt in my gut about it.

Turning from Randall would condemn me. I knew that.

"Well, come along when ya ready," she called impatiently. "Like I said, we're waitin' on ya. Would mighty appreciate your opinions."

My head nodded on its own.

I turned my back to Lori, hearing her crunching further away from us. The pads of her feet stamper quieter with every second.

Dixon was slinging the crossbow onto his left shoulder, fingers loosely tugging on it. His gaze was fixed on the belt of squirrels.

I knelt to the ground, resting my weight back on my calves. The bundle of matted fur twisted something around in my stomach. The string that slung through the game was sticky and wet with dark blood. I tentatively poked at it, pinching it between my fingers.

With a slow stand, I pricked it into my grasp and weaved it back around my waist. Daryl looked on approvingly, freaking glad to see the dead little bodies dangle from my hips. His lips cracked a little. He seemed uncaring to the little snoop that was Lori. Guess he wasn't embarrassed about me. Guess that was a good thing.

I raised a brow at him, "amused huh?"

He shrugged. "Aint everyday you see a 'no good priss bitch' like you carrying game." He tried his best to imitate my voice.

Glancing down at my bloody pants, I scrunched up my nose crudely. It was safe to say those pants were out.

"Don't get all hick on me," I frowned deeply. Eyebrows twisted in tension. His lips spread even wider. "I was just starting to bare you."

Daryl raised his chin and looked down at me. Just a few steps and he towered over me. I felt my heels dig into the dirt, my chin pointing to the sky just to look at him. He looked like he could maul me over any second. But I kept my ground. Tried not to look as wimpy as I could.

"Hell, that old man was right. Ya fiesty when ya want to be."

For once, I knew his smile was genuine. Not strained or hesitant. But real. Soft. My eyes fell away from his. Feeling so damn fluffy was just stupid. Dixon liked bashing little boys and shooting things in the head. He collected ears. Probably never bathed. He shot my dog.

Stupid hick would be the death of me.

I sighed and turned back to where Lori had been standing. "Only when I want to be."

We started a slow pace back to the house. Hip by hip like we read each other's minds. I could hear his feet dragging along this time, no care for being quiet. There was the soft tapping of tiny bodies on my thighs as I stepped.

"So, are we gonna go all highschool or somethin' now?" I said, laughing a little.

Daryl snorted, his head bowed down. Eyes trained on his feet as they strode.

"Aint really boyfriend material."

I lifted my leg high to step over a stray log. My ankle rolled as I planted it back to the ground. Daryl caught my elbow before I fell flat on my face. "Trust me," I spoke cautiously, "I wouldn't know what boyfriend material was if it hit me in the face."

His shoulders lifted unconciously at that. I couldn't help but feel my cheeks ache around my goofy smile.

"Anyway," I continued, "I don't want boyfriend material. I don't want high school."

There was the shortest pause. "What do ya want then?"

I could imagine it now. Arms locked around each other like we were conjoined twins. Wearing matching clothes. Making stupid promises. Clinging to each other every single time a walker ran out at us. Pretending like we loved each other or some shit. I couldn't help the snicker run from my throat.

I didn't want that. Neither did he. We weren't those kids. We weren't Mags and Glenn.

Maybe Daryl thought the same thing, because he gave two nods in finality. "Jus' you an' me. Don't need anythin' more. Do what we want. No caring. Nothin' dumb ass like that."

He twiddled his fingers around his crossbow, shifting its weight a little against his back. Slowly, I returned his nod. My teeth clamped shut in resolve. My heart thundering inside me.

"You an' me," I mimicked, tasting the words on my tongue. The roof of Herschel's house just making faded lines in my line of sight. Lori's figure slinked towards it, just ahead of us. "And Kit?"

Hush, and then he snorted again. "Yeah, an' scooby too."

A small smile flickered onto my lips. "He does hate you though, with a serious passion."

Another one of his damn scoffs. He raised his free arm and snaked it around my shoulders, bringing me into his chest. Underneath his jacket, was just warm. Warmth and the thick smell of dirt and forest. I felt safe in all his bundles. Safe and sound.

We were slipping through the forest line now, spreading out into the fields. Lori was already skipping up the stairs of the Greene farm.

Dixon's chin bobbed against the top of my head as he spoke. "Time ta join the firin' squad."