Chapter Text
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“In here!” Daryl hissed at Rick, staying low so they couldn’t be viewed through the windows of the tattered town house. Broken glass and shattered frames doing them no favors as they hid from the convoy picking its way through the streets. Rick and Daryl had ventured out under the pretense of hunting, though the constable knew Daryl just wanted to talk with him without anyone over-hearing. Normally Carol would be joining them outside the gates of Alexandria, but she had other business to attend to – needing to keep up her act as the defenseless housewife by staying prominent in the community.
The small town was barely more than a few streets, but the buildings had muffled the sounds of the trucks and cars starting to make their way through. If the group hadn’t been so rowdy, smashing car windows and shouting at each other, they would have caught the two men standing in the street upon entry.
Having quickly ducked into a side street, they pressed against the wall and did their best to get out and away before being spotted – but they hadn’t known how spread out the opposing group was. Someone shouted at them, from across the alley, and then bullets were ricocheting off the stone walls. Firing back did them little good, even with Rick’s impeccable aim, so they ran – in the opposite direction of Alexandria – and Daryl led them to a smattering of townhouses they could use as cover. They swept the first house they came to, Daryl’s crossbow aimed and ready along with Rick’s Colt, but the thundering of boots up the steps had them darting to the back of the house faster than was considered safe.
“No – in here!” Daryl hissed again, when all Rick did was run into the room and turn around with his gun raised, ready to fight anything that came through the door. Daryl shoved him back, pushing him into a storage closet with double doors, boxes and plastic containers piled to the ceiling. His broad shoulders barely fit, and before he could shift to make it more comfortable Daryl’s back pushed against his chest, crossbow up and ready in front of him – causing Rick to level his revolver as well on reflex, having to use Daryl’s shoulder and bicep to rest the extended arm against. The proximity and entanglement made them appear as one, a combined deadly weapon that fed off the same energy, giving each other the strength and sense of center they needed. And then they waited.
Both men knew what the group could be capable of, memories of the Claimers, the cannibals at Terminus, the Governor and what he had done to their home plaguing their thoughts and keeping Rick’s heart beat spiked at the very least. They had just left Alexandria for a quick run, and weren’t prepared to fight the small infantry that had just poured into the streets. Especially not one that was obviously looking for a fight.
If they found them, though, Rick and Daryl were ready to give them one.
But they had to think of Alexandria, and their family that was still back there behind the tall steel walls, unaware of the convoy but hidden safe – for now. There was no use getting themselves into a situation that could put any of their lives at risk. Not when they had just found a semblance of peace.
The stomping foot falls of the few that entered the house echoed with their shouts to each other and over what sounded like a radio. They had seen Rick and Daryl, and their weapons – or at least Daryl’s, his crossbow was mentioned more than once, making the hunter readjust his grip on it as if someone was about to snatch it away. The noise kept getting closer, but behind the paneled double doors they could see out into the room and no one had entered yet. Rick’s heart-rate was quick, adrenaline coursing through him and feeding his concentration, his awareness – like how Daryl kept pushing back against him, as if to hide him further, and the tense lines of muscle in his back and shoulders that were hunched and probably knotting.
How he hadn’t noticed before that the hand not holding his pistol was settled on Daryl’s hip to help hold him in place, and because he had nowhere else to put it. His fingers twitched when he did notice, brushing against coarse leather and rough denim and something warm that must have been Daryl’s skin.
Rick readjusted his grip on the Colt, mentally shaking himself out of that mindset and back on the sound of footsteps outside the door of the office they were holed up in. But it was difficult with Daryl’s long hair brushing against his face, the over-whelming aromas of leather and cigarette smoke and pine needles that clung to the other man like a magnet, filling Rick’s senses and making him a little dizzy when paired with how close his friend was pressed against him. All down his front, from his clavicle to his thighs, and the hunter ran warm Rick realized in increasing awareness. He knew that, though, from all those cold nights the past couple years where they sat side by side on watch, because he had always ended up pressed close by the end of the shift – seeking the archer’s warmth. At first he had been cautious about it, back when they barely knew each other, because Daryl was so adverse to people touching him. Now, though, Rick would consider something was wrong if the archer hadn’t clapped him on the shoulder or grabbed his arm to get his attention during the day. Daryl went out of his way to touch Rick, it was an important part of how they communicated, and Rick always just took it as a compliment. That Daryl trusted him enough to touch him.
But they hadn’t ever been this close, in this way, practically spooning in a closet – of which the irony was not lost on Rick – with this steadily increasing heat pooling in Rick’s core the longer they stood there with their weapons aimed and ready.
In fact he felt a little bad, Daryl was in this position to literally shield Rick with his own body if something were to happen, which should anger Rick in some way but he couldn’t seem to focus long enough to do so. Between trying to hear the group searching the house over his heart beat in his ears, and failing to not focus on the line of Daryl’s hips as he continued to push against him, shoulders heavy as well as he leaned on Rick’s broad chest for support to help continue to hold up the 50 lbs crossbow. Rick knew his breathing was becoming a little labored, and he tried to keep the pants escaping him to a minimum, but with how close they were there was no way Daryl couldn’t feel his hot breath on his neck.
In fact, a huff that escaped Daryl sounded more winded than necessary, both men should have had time to catch their breath after running through the house. Rick’s grip on his hip tightened experimentally, and that same sound exhaled roughly from Daryl, his tense muscles practically vibrating with how solid he was holding himself.
Rick could be imagining it, they were in a high risk situation and now was not the time for him to be loosing every shred of sense about him to the over whelming presence of Daryl fucking Dixon.
And there was no way Daryl couldn’t feel that he was half hard and pressed against his ass.
Rick allowed himself to close his eyes for just a second, try to swallow and clear the fucking blockage in his throat because it was so hard to breathe let alone think straight when the heavy weight of Daryl Dixon was pressing back against him and all Rick wanted to do was grind. And Christ, that was a new thought – he’d always admired the hunter, for his strength and courage and out-right moral standard, and yes he was handsome in his own rugged way. But he had never thought about Daryl like that, like this. If fact he should be shocked about it, but there was too much going on around them, and it was almost too much to handle. But God it felt so damn good.
So when Daryl shifted his stance, pressing his backside even more into Rick’s crotch a soft groan escaped the constable and his hand fully grasped Daryl’s hip, nails digging in. He had enough sense to turn his head to speak quietly into the archer’s ear and whisper “stop,” his hand halting Daryl’s motions but also dragging his thumb along the exposed skin between Daryl’s jeans and his raised shirt. “Can’t concentrate when you do that.” And he knew his voice sounded raspy, heavy, full of promise because Goddamn now he was turned on. If Daryl hadn’t noticed his fucking erection before he sure as fuck did now.
Daryl was as still as a stone, not even breathing, and it took a moment for him to nod once in undestanding, more of a jerk than a full motion. Just in time for the door to the office to burst open.
With bated breath they waited, the office itself was a cluttered mess and there was a chance the scout wouldn’t even look in the storage closet. Rick’s hand had moved a bit more round Daryl’s front, holding him close and steadying him, admiring how the hunter followed the intruder with his crossbow with the smallest of movements. If Rick hadn’t been plastered to Daryl’s back he wouldn’t have noticed he was moving at all.
The guy looking for them was in half army infantry clothes, and half street clothes, but he didn’t look like an army grunt. He pillaged through the room, not really looking for Rick and Daryl but more for anything he deemed interesting. He had blood splattered on him, and it looked too red to be walker blood, confirming their suspicions that these people weren’t friendly.
“They ain’t here,” someone shouted from down the hall. “Try the next house!” And the man reluctantly left, eyes sweeping over the room one last time, and falling on the closed doors of the storage closet. Rick let out a slow breath, aiming just right so his bullet would go right between the fucker’s eyes if he made a move towards them, and Daryl rested his finger against the trigger already aimed and ready. The man made an aborted motion to move before “RILEY! C’mon let’s get outta here!” and then the man turned and left without looking back again.
They waited until they heard the group enter the house next door before either lowered their weapons, and Daryl made to move away but Rick used his now free arm to cross over Daryl’s chest, Colt python heavy in his hand on Daryl’s shoulder. Holding him in place. Once again turning so he could talk right into Daryl’s ear, he muttered low and heavy “you were doing that on purpose.”
Only a beat passed before Daryl turned to look at him, pale blue eyes bright and pupils blown out, jaw clenched tight but something questioning in his face as he peered at Rick behind his long hair. The flush that crossed the bridge of his nose and dusted his cheeks easy to see with how close Rick was to his face, and giving away his answer before he could open his mouth.
“Prove it.”