#sunsache

rick earns himself a sharp, dagger-like glare. he's used to this by now— the two of them poke fun little jabs at one another all the time, whether it's because of rick's terrible music or because of daryl's penchant for roasted squirrel. but this is something different entirely. it's not a little thing, it's massive. so massive that it's unclear if rick has a death wish or if he simply wants to rile daryl up a little. either way, implying that he and shane are something more than nothing forces an awful taste into his mouth.

‘ me an' shane what? ’ he asks with cutting bite, shifting on his feet to more fully face rick. aggravation rolls up his throat from deep in his stomach and blooms in his chest on the way by. it's not something he can stop: the thought that he and shane haven't been careful enough in their meetings is enough to trigger this response in him that looks a lot like anger but is born out of shame and fear.

the setting sun heralds the oncoming evening with a wam orange light that casts long, stark shadows against the ground. daryl makes his way up the sidewalk and into his front door with a calm sort of gait, leaning his crossbow against the wall as he steps inside. his boots come off next, and no sooner does he finish toeing his way out of them does he notice that shane is in his kitchen.

daryl is not necessarily surprised to see him there: his house has become their quiet meeting place in recent weeks, as it's much easier and much less dangerous than leaving the walls every time they need to see one another. truthfully, he's just annoyed and it probably shows in his face: his brow pinches a little and his jaw mechanically works at his bottom lip as biting words brim on his tongue.

‘ the hell're you doin'? ’ it's all he can muster for the moment as he walks into the kitchen. he doesn't know what he expected, but daryl has to admit that two plates of food and two mugs of— tea, is it?... is not what he thought shane would be setting upon his countertop.

there's some kind of tenderness in it that daryl inches away from. somehow it feels sticky and sharp inside of him, like honey and razor blades. a sensory nightmare that's only just beginning. this... this is not what they do. this is not what shane does, and it's not what daryl receives from him per their agreement.

the tension in daryl's body is evident in every muscle and every word that leaves his mouth. he's been built up to this point over weeks and weeks but rick, michonne, and so many other alexandrians have all dismissed daryl's feelings surrounding shane's place in their community. and now it's all coming to a head, resentment and rage spilling out of him without any way of stopping it.

they should know by now that daryl's righteous indignation would never stand for this. shane isn't supposed to be here. this isn't how any of this is supposed to go. he should be with all the other saviors, wriggling like worms in their pit of despair. to daryl, he deserves a fate worse than death— not to sit pretty here in alexandria like he hasn't done anything wrong and like he wasn't just on the wrong side.

‘ — m' sick of yer bullshit, ’ he growls, pacing like a caged animal in the middle of the street. shane stands before him a free man as a crowd begins to gather as witness. where is his safety now, when his own home has been infiltrated by the enemy once again? ‘ sick of you walkin' around here like ain't nothing happened— like you belong here! ’

somewhere on the sidelines through a sea of concerned whispers, rick is pleading with him to calm down and listen. all he ever does is listen, listen, listen to everyone else and what they think is right. he's so tired of listening. rick should know daryl better, but after all, he's the one who allowed shane back into the mix of their group in the first place. old habits die hard— old friends die harder. the wound up coil inside of daryl snaps. ‘ no! ’ he shakes his head and points at shane with so much fervor it's like he might summon lightning to strike him down. ‘ we're settling this. right now. ’

an eerie silence rises like a thick fog as daryl stares shane down. there's no going back for either of them now. as he begins heading towards the gates, life springs back into the crowd: rick shouts his name and footsteps clatter against the pavement behind him. they're trying to convince him to stop but they should save their breath. where were they all before, when daryl needed them to listen? this is their consequence.

daryl shoves the gate open himself, pulling the fencing hard and stepping outside the bounds of alexandria's walls. he'll take shane far out towards a lake he knows— out here, there are no rules. they can resolve this the way they want to.

dayl dixon is no stranger to second chances. the world they live in is already cruel enough, so he believes clean slates shouldn't be that hard to come by. he's been given enough of them himself over the years since the outbreak, anyway. but isn't there a line to be drawn somewhere? how many chances does someone get, and who gets to decide when they don't get any more? if you asked him before all of this, before negan and the saviors, daryl might have told you that only good people deserve more chances. but what's good anymore? is he? was he ever?

no sooner does he begin to delve into his own philosophical hell does a walking, talking second chance approach him. daryl immediately sees red. what could be possibly want now?

a strange sort of taste settles on his tongue, and it's not because of the cigarette in his mouth. shane speaks as though daryl wants to be standing there with him, lighthearted and cordial. well, he doesn't. it's only by order that he's on perimeter watch with shane at all— if he didn't have to be here, he'd much rather be doing almost anything else. his skin is bristling into irritated goosebumps by standing near shane at all, he can't imagine what the next few hours is going to be like.

of course, there's been a nudging instinct to give him a chance ever since negan's big surrender. but it's always immediately overshadowed by the rippling rage that daryl feels when he thinks about seeing shane amongst the saviors— of course he'd end up there, cozied up with people just like himself. ruthless. violent. he fit right in, didn't he?

before he can get too pulled into his own mind, daryl gives shane a look. the audacity of him to bring up so-called old times. what times are those to him? daryl wonders. yet for all of his anger, he manages to speak plainly.

@sunsache inquired: ❝ i came into this world fighting. and i’ll go out of it fighting. ❞ / grant !

red dead redemption 1 starters ⤷ Accepting!!

"Don't you dare think you'll go out of it alone, I'll be by your side through this. If you think you're going to foolhardily do this all alone." Wanda's violet eyes narrowed as she turned her sight on Steve. She wasn't going to let her friend face the dangers alone, even if she died in the process. Wanda was loyal to her leader and her mentor, Captain America was the one who gave her a chance when no one else would.