#backwaterscum

Shane's silent for far too long as he realizes that he dissociated enough to walk right into Daryl's back. There's no doubt in his mind that some of the Alphas have begun catching onto the fact that he's been posturing as an Alpha himself this whole time, but he'd never done anything to actively compromise his lie.

And yet, here he is, standing and staring, mouth gaping as he looks the alpha in the eye and tries to come up with some bullshit lie.

It's not like he could fucking admit he'd been lost in Daryl's scent.

---

He was delivering such a wonderful speech. Riling up his people so perfectly.

Everything had been going to plan. Everything fell just right to the plan of manipulating his people against that forsaken fucking prison group.

All of it had been going swimmingly.

"One'a the terrorists... Merle's own brother!"

Yanking the hood off he grabbed the mans arm before he moved away.

He was going to say more.

He froze.

"What-"

His confident, strong voice turned quiet as he looked at Daryl, eyes wide.

"... And a new conundrum just came up, folks."

He lets go of Daryl, moving away. Feigning that confidence again. Trying to keep calm. Keep control.

This wasn't part of the plan. This had never been apart of the plan.

"The said terrorist... Appears t'be my soulmate." He wants to act like this wasn't a big deal. That this can be swept under the rug and ignored...

A sigh, shake of the head.

"Do we let them fight, or do we let them go?" He turns his back on Daryl, looking to the audience around them. "I'll leave the choice up t'you folks, as it appears I may have a bias now to choose the wrong option."

Then it's back to Daryl, a shake of the head again.

God damn he could feel the blood going down his cheek again.

will wishes that he could say that the new order of nature has made him callous to the way of things. he wishes that this was new, that years ago, he would've had a shake in his hands and his heart racing. but the truth is that adapting to this world was easier for him because he was always wired wrong different. daryl's hands are on him and smearing blood across him and will's eyes are watching the action play out, oceans of thoughtfulness.

"i'm not—" a frustrated sigh, and he curls in on himself a bit. "i'm okay."

there's red across them both. will never wanted to be a part of anything, let alone a part of a group, but sometimes a PACK is the only means of survival. however loose that bond, it was still forged. and a member of the pack was lost, ripped from their grasp and—

oh, is he hurt too? curiosity rears its head and will moves into action, first tilting his head to look daryl over and then daring to broach the intimacy of mutual survival. mortifying as it is to touch and be touched, he'd prefer daryl alive, if only for practicality's sake. his own bloody hands brush across daryl's chest and with a furrowed brow, he allows eye contact. also a rarity.

memes, accepting

boy’s been silent, unsettlingly so, since paths collided ten minutes ago. the atlanta heat dew drops his forehead. the atlanta heat languishes the clammy brown hand spun vine-like into backpack strap. that was his life, you know, housed upon stone jagged shoulders.

gashes tooth his arm. (was desperate to free a soda from gas station refrigerator. the mangled machine made quick work of his thirst.) he stares with detached wonder as his good samaritan – daryl – assesses his wound. bottle of lukewarm fluid, poured over gashes. the boy grimaces. head bent south. eyes peeled shut.

send me a pair name and I’ll tell you what I think it would be like if they had a child . not accepting

Had it been anyone else, Shane's all but sure those same knuckles would have been used to deck whatever dude it was that kissed his hand to begin with. Coupled with a few slurs and whatever uncalled for comments he could think of in the moment, he'd actively lay the guy out. Had it been anyone else, he'd even make a spectacle out of it to make sure no one else tried anything like this with him again.

Had it been anyone else, Shane wouldn't feel his heart in his throat and his mouth going dry.

Suddenly, he's questioning his entire existence, yet the existential crisis is muted by the way blue eyes looks up into his own brown hues as Daryl's head raises.

And maybe Shane's blushing. He isn't quite sure, but it doesn't matter.

For seemingly the first time in his life, he's got no words or quick-witted remark. He's stunned not only by the fact that the redneck he's been buddying it up with did it, but the fact he doesn't care that he did it.

Actually, if anything, he liked the simple affection offered.

Shane isn't confident in the slightest bit. Ever since he and Rick almost died- Rick taking the worst of it, if the coma he's still in is anything to go by- he's struggled even just functioning on a day to day.

Regardless, the Marshal summoned him and he knows he has a job to do.

He may not know the mission's details, but he knows enough that when he comes across a stranger- even when Rick was around, Shane didn't really pay attention to anyone that wasn't groveling to give him attention, so his interactions were limited to ego, work, and the Grimes'- it's likely his new partner.

"I take it you're Daryl?"

His tone isn't exactly warm, but it's by no means confrontational. It's been far too long since he's had proper conversation with someone that wasn't Lori and Carl, not to mention the little one on the way. Ever since Rick went dark- all because Shane missed that second fucking Kaiju- it's been hard. He's kept everyone at arm's length, in part for fear of hurting them, too.

But he has to take care of the Grimes'. It's the least he could do for almost getting Rick killed.

Still, he knew he had to go back to fuck up as many of those prehistoric-looking douches as possible. The Marshal called for his return, and he's well-aware it's for good reason.