Hey! I love Kid so much! I was wondering if you could tell us a little more about Rick and Daryl’s backstory. I love the idea of them being high school/childhood besties and Rick’s family sorta taking him in.
Thanks so much for this ask! I had a few scattered notes about their childhood/teen years, and this motivated me to turn them into a little prequel:
I love the way you write Rick, especially his bromance with Daryl. Idk if you’re still taking prompts but if you are, I’d love to read something like that.
Thank you so much! I’m sorry it took ages to write this–hopefully you see it and enjoy it <3
Things were close to boiling over by the time Rick stepped in.
It started with a mark that could have been a bruise, but wasn’t, on Daryl’s collar bone. Carol pointed it out innocently enough, then she, Rick, and Tara watched as Daryl lied, badly, about it being from his crossbow. Jesus came downstairs a moment later, and three sets of eyebrows raised as Daryl began blushing furiously and mangling the rabbit he was trying to skin.
From then on Tara was the ringleader, making little teasing comments that were never mean-spirited, but which nevertheless made Daryl puff up like a blowfish. Rosita sometimes added something in Spanish that none of them could understand, but her tone was suggestive enough. Carl and Enid joined in from there, and Rick heard Abraham make at least one incredibly crass comment in Daryl’s hearing. Michonne smacked him upside the head for it, but it was too late—Daryl stalked off, bright red ears peeking from under his hair.
Glenn didn’t tease, but he did try for a serious heart-to-heart. He told Rick later that Daryl had played dumb. Aaron and Eric invited Daryl to dinner, but he didn’t show.
Hell, Maggie even tried talking to Jesus instead; she told Rick that he’d refused to answer any questions, while simultaneously (and smugly) making it very obvious that the two were, in fact, an item.
The long and short of it was that every time Daryl and Jesus were in the same room, someone in the family was going to find something to say about them. Rick knew they only intended it as harmless fun—the apocalypse could be surprisingly boring, and therefore surprisingly gossipy—but Daryl was visibly tense every time Rick saw him. He started to avoid the house, spending more and more time outside the walls. (Rick noticed, of course, that Jesus always seemed to disappear at about the same time.)
Then one day, after about three days of this, Daryl almost punched Eugene for asking, deadpan and entirely serious, if he could ask his boyfriend whether Hilltop had any spare car batteries.
Gritting his teeth, Rick asked Daryl to go on a quick run with him an hour later.
—
He drove them out to the middle of nowhere and stopped the car.
“You gotta piss?” Daryl asked.
“No. We’re going to talk about you and Jesus.”
“Ain’t nothing to say.” He shrank into the seat away from Rick, like he was trying to make himself seem smaller.
Rick just looked at him.
“There ain’t!” Daryl said, getting worked up already, which was a bad sign. “That’s just Tara doing her usual bullshit, man.”
Silently, Rick waited.
“You know what, fuck you. Fuck you for- just cause I’m nice to the fucking guy, don’t mean I’m queer for him. I ain’t gay.”
Rick decided to ignore the slur. “What’s wrong with being gay?”
“Nothing,” Daryl snapped. “Ain’t nothing wrong with it, just… I ain’t.”
Rick drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Drive, asshole.”
Tap, tap, tap, went Rick’s fingers.
Daryl opened the car door and walked out.
—
There wasn’t anywhere to walk to, though—not for miles—so he was back in ten minutes.
“Why’s it matter? Why’s everyone gotta act like it’s a big fucking deal, me hanging out with him?”
“They want you to be happy, is all.”
“Nah. They think it’s funny. If that was it, why’s it- it some kind of joke to them? Like me being- being like that, would be funny?”
“Daryl, no one thinks that. I can tell them to lay off, if you want, but they don’t mean nothing by it. They’re just teasing you.”
“Well, fuck them. It ain’t funny.”
“No, it’s not.”
Daryl sat still, breathing deeply and facing forward, not looking at him. Sensing he was close, Rick handed over a water bottle. He drank deeply.
“I know there ain’t nothing wrong with it. Ain’t nothing wrong with Aaron, or Eric, or…” he swallowed. “Or Jesus.”
“Or you.”
Daryl looked away from him, out the window. He shook his head.
“Or you, Daryl.” Rick put a hand on his shoulder.
Daryl grabbed it, but didn’t turn from the window. They sat like that for awhile.
“You want to go back now?” Rick asked, watching the sun hover near the horizon.
“There ain’t even a run? You dragged me out here for this pansy therapy crap?”
“Yup. And Jesus asked me to have you home by dinner, sounds like he’s cooking something special.”
“He’s a goddamn moron,” Daryl sighed, and nodded for Rick to start driving.
“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem so bad to me.”
“Yeah?” Daryl bit his thumb, looking out the window.
“Yeah. He seems like a good guy.”
“Plenty of good guys are morons,” Daryl replied, but the tension was finally gone from his shoulders.
