Be Good

I understood that Daryl was seeking space. He needed time to think through his actions, just as I needed time to sort through mine.

What had happened in the hallway? Was it actually something we both seeked? Or was it just something we needed? Did we actually possess any mutual interest in each other, or was it just a spur of the moment thing?

I wondered about it absently as I continued my daily activities around the funeral home. I ate lunch, played piano for a little while, until a walker threw itself against the stained glass windows, searching for the sound. Then I explored the rest of the building, and went to the upstairs area, where I found a comfortable little lounge room, with a wall of glass that looked out over the cemetary fields. Everything in the louge was white or pastel. The leather couches and loveseats were white, the glass coffee table had elegant, victorian style legs, and there was a vase of flowers, all dried up, sitting on top.

Though they weren't brittle dry, they were withered, still fresh from someone who had been here less than a week ago.

I looked out the windows, searching for a sign that Daryl was out there, or heading back. I saw nothing... No one.

Further exploration of the upstairs lounge, I found another door, painted white, like everything else in the house. I approached it carefully, quietly, and waited. I couldn't tell if Daryl had checked it or not when we'd swept the building. For every room we checked, we left the door open. This one was closed...

I wasn't armed with much, except a knife. If something... Or someone, was in there, I had to handle it quickly.

I reached forward and twisted the handle, pushing the door open, I looked in.

The room was dim, unlike the lounge. The curtains were drawn sharply in every window, leaving a faint glow to the surroundings.

As I stepped through the doorway, I recognized what kind of room it was, because mine looked exactly like it back home. It was a small bedroom. Unlike the other rooms in the funeral home, it had light, baby blue walls with white trim. A light blue quilt on the twin sized bed, and there were minor decorations around the room. Above the bed, a hand carved wooden cross, beside the window, a hand emborderied photo of a beach, with a quote from the Bible.

Other pieces included a stained glass lamp on the dark oak bedside table, and a small work desk under the large window across from the bed. The floor was plush, white carpet, and everything was pristine clean, and fresh. Someone definitely lived here.

I looked around a little longer before heading downstairs to see if Daryl was back yet. Storm clouds were gathering outside, and it was nearing sundown. It'd been well over a few hours since he'd left, and to be honest, I was worried.

Once again, looking through the front windows, there was no signs of life, everything was absolutely still.

I paced until the sky went dark, and thunder echoed outside. The tall trees that shrouded the funeral home began to bang against the roof in the wind, and I'd be lying if I didn't say I felt restless and scared.

I went upstairs, to the lounge with the big windows, figuring that if he was coming back, I could see him better from there. I dragged one of the couches to the window, and sat there, fidgiting, my knife out, in hand. My heart was pounding and a million things were rushing through my head. What if the inhabitants of this place came back? What if they weren't good people?...

I took a deep breath to calm myself down, but it didn't do me any good.

I continued to watch the field before me like a hawk, and my immense concentration caused me to loose contact with reality, until a hand came down on my shoulder.

I leapt up and spun around, immediately taking the attack pose Daryl taught me in our tracking lessons. I gripped my knife tightly as I whipped my hand out, stopping midswing when he caught my hand and stopped me.

"Try'na kill me now?" He mumbled, and I dropped my arm back to my side. I sighed and stuffed it back into the seath on my waist.

We looked at each other, he had some fresh blood on his clothes, but he'd taken the time to wipe his face clean.

"We need to talk..." I began with a sigh, looking down at the carpet as I tucked my hands into my back pockets.

I looked up at his face at last when he said nothing. And his eyes burned into mine for a moment before his hands were on my face, cradling my jaw, bringing his face to mine again.

It was a long, passionate kiss on his half. I was still terribly confused... I broke off first, "Why-" He cut me off.

"I mean it." He said, looking at my eyes for a while before pressing his lips onto mine again. His head dipped down, rough hands cradling my face carefully, as though one wrong move could break me.

It was a wordless exchange, and confusion still invaded my mind, but after a while, something else consumed my senses. Something new to me, entirely. It was a sense that hand my hands reaching for his face, fingers curling in his long, dark hair, mind going hazy, but hanging onto every tiny detail.

I was aware of his hands falling away from my face, and curling around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed one firm kiss to his lips before he broke away a little.

He looked me in the eyes nervously, a questioning look in his gaze. One I had never seen on him before, which made my heart leap in concern. I nodded in reply. He was hesitant for another moment before dropping a quick kiss on my lips, and hooking my legs around his waist. His hands were pressed against my lower back, cradling me to his chest, lips not breaking as he carried me, kicking the bedroom door shut behind us, he laid me down in the bed before crawling on top of me like an animal. More vicious kissing ensued, gnashing teeth, and twisting tongues, I closed my eyes and tried to figure out what the hell I was doing.

His left hand was on my chest, pushing my breasts up, a surge of excitement growing with anxiety in the pit of my stomach. He discarded my shirt within another few minutes, and takes a moment to chuckle darkly about the floral print of my bra. I giggle in embarrassment,my cheeks burning a vibrant pink. Distracting him, I reached out and grabbed a handful of his sleeveless flannel and pull him towards me to pressed another kiss on his lips.

He peeled off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. I looked at his chest, seeing a tattoo I never knew he had, and something else than made me stop. There were long, dark scars that bent around his ribcage, fitting the shape of his torso.

"Old scars my old man gave me." He muttered huskily, disregarding my gaze of concern, busying himself with unbuttoning my jeans and pulling off my boots.

I felt lost in my own head, watching him bend over me, I could see his shoulder blades, where two identical tattoos were, and all down his spine was more dark slashes.

"What did he do to you?" I whispered, as his hands trailed over my ribcage.

"Doesn't matter." He whispered back, pressing a trail of kisses down my ribs. "It's in the past."

He refused to give me any idea what he had endured, but I had a pretty good idea. He'd already told me days before that he grew up in a bad house with bad people. He wasn't proud of his background, and tended to shrug off any details about his past.

I accepted that he didn't want to talk about it, and showed him I was done by pulling his face up to meet mine again.

"None of it matters right now." I agreed softly, tacking on another few careful kisses before he went to unbuckle his jeans. I finished awkwardly yanking off my own, and sat up a little to undo the clasp on my bra. I was hesitant, gripping the straps and looking up at him nervously.

"Ya don't have to..." He reassured me, but I shook my head. I felt like in order to actually change, this was something I had to do. After all, they say go big or go home...

I dropped the bra into my lap and watched his gaze falter, and I giggled at his embarrassment and my own. We were both awkward, embarassed and inexperienced. Daryl fumbled awkwardly, acting like a virgin school boy. I questioned it in my head silently and laughed. He looked at me with a confused, curious smirk.

"What's so funny?"

A grin broke out across my face. "Are you a virgin?" I laughed, and his face reddened. He hid it away, so I could not read his expression.

"Uh..."

"It's okay." I laughed, trying to comfort him about his insecurity.

"I mean, yeah... Merle always tried ta' hook me up with girls, but they... They were whores 'n shit. Never found the right girl, I guess."

"A gentleman." I corrected him with a grin, feeling embarassed, and overjoyed inside that I happened to be the right girl.

He shot me a crooked smile. "Guess we're both inexperienced?" He wondered. I laughed, "Yeah..."

"Want to figure it out together?"

I pressed my lips into a firm line, a grin threatening to break out. "Hell yeah." I laughed, pulling him towards me once more.