Chapter Text
Rick’s Friday shift ended at 7 pm. He wondered what to do next. Lori and Carl wouldn’t be home, they were visiting Lori’s parents for the weekend, and Rick had a rare two-day vacation from his family. Immediately, he felt guilty about that fleeting thought.
It couldn’t be ok to be glad that he’d be alone for a few days?
It was just...This past half a year, Lori had been even more pissed off than normal, and home wasn’t the place of warmth and relaxation Rick thought it should be, and what it had been for the majority of their marriage. Something was off, and he didn’t know where to start unraveling the knot that had grown larger and larger until it was a huge ball of tangled rope. Lori kept saying (or snarling, most of the time) that Rick didn’t talk to her, didn’t share his feelings, but he didn’t know what she wanted from him. Whenever he did talk about the feelings of loneliness, of never being able to be what Lori wanted of him, not really even having a proper clue what it was that she wanted, she would scoff and tell him he ought to just know and that if he needed her to tell him, he should do some thinking on his own.
These days, life at home was a continuous pop quiz laid down in a foreign language, a quiz which he was expected to answer without understanding the questions. Not that they were fighting as such. Rick didn’t want to fight, he didn’t much like quarreling, and Lori seemed to want to keep Carl out of it as well, and not let their eleven-year-old son see how tense it had become between his mother and father. So they played the happy family when Carl was around, and when he wasn’t...not so much with the playing.
He drove home slowly, changed into jeans and a t-shirt, sat down in front of the TV to flip through channels. He’d be alone for two whole days, he’d have a guaranteed peace from snide little poison arrows from Lori – shouldn’t he feel a bit better?
He snorted. When had this become his life? When a ‘good day’ meant not being belittled by his wife? When had his expectations lowered so far down?
To be fair – and he tried to be fair, even though it would’ve been much easier not to be – Lori might have a point. He did work hard, always staying longer than his shifts, always volunteering for extra ones as well. He liked his job, he was good at it, and he was ambitious. And they needed the money, for God’s sake, not like Lori didn’t know it, the way she liked to spend it!
And it was true he might’ve grown more quiet in recent years – he was always so tired, so preoccupied. Lori liked to talk, liked socializing, liked barbecues, evenings out, little parties, and yeah, maybe, he was becoming a grumpy old hermit before he was even forty. Maybe he’d become a dull, absent husband, and Lori was right to be angry with him. It was true that whatever free time he had, he tried to spend most of it with Carl, playing with him, checking his homework. Carl was a kid, and he wouldn’t be eleven forever, and Rick wanted to be present, unlike his own dad.
He stared at some cooking show. It brought back memories from last Saturday. For a month or so, he’d tried to do better, come home earlier from work, be there for Lori as well as Carl, and he’d prepared a nice dinner – he was a fair cook, just didn’t have time for it very often. He’d set the table and checked that they had board games and a few new dvds, something fun to do for the whole family after the dinner. He’d taken care to be the attentive husband, kept the conversation going, asked Lori about her day, her parents, her friends, and hadn’t once brought up his work or asked how Lori’s job hunt was going.
He’d thought it had gone well, had been pretty damn certain he’d not be banished to the couch for the night, and had thought he’d got it right this time. His head had been full of plans for other stuff he could do in the coming weeks and months, other ways to set their relationship back on track again. Then Carl had said good night and Rick had gone to tuck him in (the boy wouldn’t let them do that for long anymore, he’d turn twelve in a few weeks and soon he’d be too big to accept such childish shows of parental fussiness). When he’d returned to the living room, Lori had already finished the wine and was standing there, arms crossed, eyebrow lifted. Rick had smiled to her. And yeah, maybe he’d been stupid, idealistic, optimistic, but Lori’s words had taken him completely by surprise.
“You’d better not imagine everything’s alright now.”
It had gone downhill from there.
Rick shifted on the couch and checked his watch. Eight. Christ, it was eight on a Friday evening and all he had was a stupid cooking show.
Normally, Shane would’ve already called him and they would’ve gone out for a few drinks and some pool, but Shane was in L.A. at his cousin’s wedding. When was the last time Rick had done anything without Shane? He couldn’t even remember. He was all out of practice with initiating anything – Shane was always the one with the ideas, and all Rick had to do was to follow. At work, it was most often the other way around, and Rick didn’t mind letting go on his free time.
Before he had time to overthink it, he stood up, took his jacket and keys and wallet, and was on his way to the new bar he’d heard Shane mention a few days ago. He kept his mind blank the whole time he drove there. He was a grown-ass man, he could do this. People did this all the fucking time! People went out, people met new people All.The.Time.! He’d take one beer, maybe play some pool, and he wouldn’t be home before midnight, swear to God! He’d have some fun on his own if it was the last thing he did!
He smiled at himself. For real, was he giving himself a frickin’ peptalk? How lame could he be – no wonder Lori kept saying how blah he was these days.
Even the thought of his loving wife calling him ‘blah’ (and with no teasing tone nor humor either) didn’t stop him from feeling he was actually accomplishing something right now. He felt good about himself up until the moment he turned on the sideroad and parked in front of the bar. He got out of the car and felt the first twinge of doubt. Was he really going to do this?
Its name was ‘Pool & Booze’. Classy as hell, Rick thought as he saw the garish light bulbs which spelled out the name. The place looked decent enough, though, in spite of the bright, flashing signs on the windows announcing the brands of beer and the amount of pool tables. There were a few cars parked in the small lot in front of it, as well as a few motorcycles which Rick eyed with interest. He’d always had a soft spot for bikes even though Lori had firmly vetoed all suggestions that he could buy one.
The place was new but Rick didn’t expect much, so he was pleasantly surprised when he stepped inside. The colors were muted, the music wasn’t too loud, and everything looked fairly clean despite the few dozen customers who moved around laughing and talking with their drinks sloshing around in the glasses. Rick ordered a beer and ambled towards the back of the room where he could hear the familiar clack of pool balls. He watched the players for a while to get the lay of the land. There were three tables, two of which were full with friendly/fierce competition going on between the teams.
The third table was at the back of the room with a man hovering near the wall. The guy looked a bit worse for wear – scruffy beard, messy hair, shirt with the sleeves cut off, baggy jeans, shifty eyes. For a rare moment Rick let his prejudices take over. Guys who looked like that tended to end up in his police vehicle more often than not. He watched the man for a few more minutes, evaluated, analyzed, came to the conclusion he wasn’t drunk or high, and from what he could see, not packing any sort of weapons either. He exhaled; he was here to be social, to relax, to play – he most certainly wasn’t here to write mental police reports or wallow in his groundless suspicions.
Rick took another look at the other man. His body curled up upon itself, broad shoulders slouched, feet shifted restlessly, like he was trying to fade into the background and prepare for defensive action, all at the same time. He leaned lightly on a cue stick and nibbled on the side of his thumb as he side-eyed the neighboring table – all in all, it looked like he was bristling with shy insecurity rather than dangerous violence. And he looked like he’d be interested in playing, so Rick took a deep breath and strolled closer.
“Wanna shoot some pool?” he asked the stranger whose body language had turned even more tense.
The other man glanced at Rick, frowned and blurted a raspy “Waitin’ for my brother.”
Rick tried to not be disheartened by his first attempt going south. “Oh… okay.... sorry,” he babbled, and could’ve just slapped himself; almost forty-year-old seasoned sheriff’s deputies did not sound like snubbed school girls, they just didn’t! He took a step back and bumped into the wall. Smooth, Rick, nice going. Really, Shane would be ever so proud!
The stranger, who only seconds ago had looked like the more shy and insecure of the two, apparently took pity on Rick. “Ya ain’t gotta apologize for nothin’. My brother, he comes whenever. Ya wanna play, we can play until he drags his ass down here. That work for ya?”
An hour later, they were still playing. The other guy didn’t talk much and smiled even less, but he didn’t seem to mind that Rick chatted about the game, the bar, Carl, his family and best friend being out of town, his first stab into independence.
“So that’s why ya looked like a kicked puppy.” The low rumble was definitely amused.
Rick won the first game, the scruffy stranger – Daryl – the second. Daryl offered to buy the next round of beers but Rick declined.
“I need to drive back home and I don’t want to risk it.”
“Whatever, man,” Daryl shrugged. “I get it though – you’re a family man, you need your driver’s license an’ your good reputation.”
Rick chuckled. “Was one of the cars outside yours?”
“Naw, I got a bike.”
“Triumph or Yamaha?” Rick mentioned the two bikes he’d seen outside.
Daryl looked surprised. “The Triumph. D’you drive?”
“Nope. Lori won’t budge on the subject.” It came out a bit more annoyed than he’d meant. Or maybe it came out just right. He wasn’t feeling too charitable towards the long list of demands from his wife.
Daryl flicked an uncertain glance at him. “She’s just lookin’ out for ya.”
Rick had nothing to say to that. It didn’t feel like looking out for him. Could you call it concern when it was an ultimatum? He’d never once given Lori an ultimatum about anything, had never told her what he allowed or didn’t allow her to do.
They kept playing. At some point, Rick noticed that it was already eleven o’clock, and he was genuinely surprised. For all his taciturn, blunt nature Daryl was pretty good company. Briefly, Rick wondered about that. He was used to Shane who was loud, always talking, joking, eager to do things. Daryl was quiet, restless, had a hard time standing still, and Rick thought that something bad might’ve happened to him, given the continuous need of his to scan the surroundings, the suspicious glint in the narrowed eyes as he observed the players, the drinkers, the waiters. Even with all that, his presence was solid, and something in him grounded Rick in a way Shane never could.
“So, what do you do when you’re not playing a mean game of pool?” he asked. Daryl didn’t volunteer much information and thus far, Rick had only learned that the man had an older brother, that his parents had passed away, and that he worked part-time as a car mechanic. From the shifty side-glances Rick had inferred that the job might not have all the required paperwork, but he wasn’t being a cop now.
Daryl chewed on his lower lip, thinking. “Well… I hunt.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.” The man sniffed. “That hard to believe?”
Rick shook his head. “Not really. You’ve got that alert thing going even here. What kind of a rifle do you use?”
A small smile curled Daryl’s lips and it made him look years younger. “Nuh, no gun.”
Rick quirked an eyebrow. “What, you go all Tarzan over the wild beasts of the Georgia jungle and jump on them from a tree with a knife?”
That earned an almost-chuckle. “Naw, I got a crossbow.”
“Wow, that’s pretty cool. Never known anyone who hunted with a crossbow. In fact, never known anyone to use it.” Rick hesitated a second, then decided he got this independent socializing thingy down like nobody’s business, and went on. “Would you let me try sometime? Teach me how to use a crossbow?”
Rick couldn’t keep up with the myriad of expressions flitting over Daryl’s face. Then his eyes narrowed to hostile slits.
“What d’you want from me, man? Why are you so goddamn friendly?” Daryl took a step back and his hand squeezed into a fist.
Rick had no idea why the relaxed game had taken a one-eighty like this. Baffled, he wondered what the hell the man thought Rick wanted out of him. Did Daryl think this was a practical joke of some kind? Prelude to some sort of a Strangers on a Train kind of an arrangement?? Rick’s roundabout way of soliciting sexual services???
“Hey, man… I thought I made it pretty clear earlier… I’m kind of a pathetic loser when it comes to making new friends. Shane’s got all the skills with that, I only ever went along with him. I’m sorry if I said something to upset you, it wasn’t my intention at all. Look, can we forget about it? One more game, ok?” He tried to look as non-threatening as possible.
Daryl squinted at him; little by little, the white-knuckled fist relaxed, and finally the man gave him an abrupt little nod. He stepped closer to the table to plan for his next shot but stopped, looked down, seemed to consider something, and finally turned to look at Rick even though his eyes didn’t quite reach Rick’s.
“Whaddya mean, friends?”
Rick tilted his head, tried to get Daryl to look him in the eye. “Can’t be a novel concept, can it?” he tried to make light of it. “Meeting new people, getting acquainted, shooting pool together, grabbing a beer or two, bitching about work, and difficult customers, and the weather bein’ too cold or too warm, and grumbling about bad days and laughing about the good days – y’know, things that friends do?”
Daryl met his gaze but didn’t give anything away. Rick had no idea what the man was thinking.
“I ain’t the type of guy ya wanna be friends with,” he finally grunted.
“Why?” Rick didn’t want to give up so easily. Daryl intrigued him for some reason, the man was different from Rick’s normal set of friends and acquaintances, and he was curious to know more about him.
“Ya really hafta ask?” Daryl snorted. “Look at you, you’re from a different world than me.”
“So?” Now Rick was honestly confused. “I didn’t know there are rules about that. We’ve played and talked and drunk beer for,” Rick checked his watch, “close to three and a half hours without any problems whatsoever. Can’t think of any reason we couldn’t do it again – unless you don’t want to? Just don’t give me that crap about different worlds, please… this ain’t the fuckin’ West Side Story.”
Daryl stared at him for a while, and Rick could just see the wheels whirring in his mind. Then his lips twitched and the gravelly voice was definitely amused. “Damn right it ain’t. But if it was, you’d be Maria.”
Rick couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. There was a small, satisfied smirk on Daryl’s face – like he was proud he’d made Rick laugh.
“So, are we done with the nonsense?” Rick asked, still chuckling. “One last game before I gotta go. It’s been a long week and I don’t want to fall asleep while driving. Wouldn’t be good for my upstanding reputation, either.”
Daryl huffed and bit his lip, probably to keep himself from smiling too much.
Half an hour later, they walked out and stopped to take a breath of air.
“Your brother didn’t show up.”
Daryl gave a half-shrug and walked over to his bike. “Half the time he does, half the time he doesn’t. Ya never know with Merle. Ain’t exactly the trustworthy type but he’s the only brother I got, so whatcha gonna do.” He sat down on the bike and twiddled with the key.
From the way Daryl’s gaze darted everywhere but at Rick, he guessed the man was about to go outside his comfort zone.
See, I’m getting to know you already! Rick thought, and gave Daryl time: stuffed his hands in his pockets, peered at the sky, spent time admiring the few stars he could see through all the light pollution.
“Got plans for tomorrow?”
It was such a tentative tone, echoing with the certainty of being rejected, and Rick’s heart ached. What the hell had happened to make Daryl so sure people couldn’t want to befriend him? Sure, Rick had only known him for a few hours, but he didn’t get a bad vibe from him. Rick liked his quiet sense of humor, his attentive way of listening. Rick felt at ease around the guy, surprising as it might be, considering what he’d first thought when he’d seen Daryl.
“Nope. Lori left me a to-do list but I’m feeling rebellious.” Rick grinned at Daryl. “The lawn can manage on its own for another day, and the gutters...nah, just not feelin’ it, y’know.”
Daryl let out the first laugh Rick had heard from him, a short, quiet chuckle. He shifted on the seat. “Merle’s goin’ to work at the shop for a few hours… we could do some shooting. With the crossbow. If ya wanna…”
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely! Sounds great! Shane’s gonna be so pissed off when he hears I had a chance to practice with a crossbow. He always likes to think of himself as the more macho one. He wouldn’t shut up about the time his cousin taught him to throw knives.” Rick grinned so hard his face hurt. “Crossbows trump knives, am I right?”
A fleeting look of relief passed over Daryl’s face, then he smirked. “They totally do. But maybe ya wanna try hittin’ a target before you go flaunt your skills?”
“Oh ye of little faith…”