Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Home Sweet Home

"You guys stay back and keep hidden until you get the all clear," Rick instructed, looking towards the people that wouldn't be clearing the house. They all nodded absently, the drill second nature at this point. "Y'all ready?"

"Lead the way Captain America," I answered for the assault party.

The quip didn't register with anyone save Daryl who rolled his eyes as he loaded up an arrow. Tough crowd. I made a mental note to find some new material in my downtime.

Rick glanced at me, face stern. "No half-assing it Alex. We take our time and do this right. Go slow, stay alert, and be ready for anything."

Rick, Daryl, and Carl walked off, continuing to review the plan in excruciatingly boring detail. I gave a brief nod to Maggie and Glenn who were clearing the perimeter, falling into step next to T, checking over my shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping before I started talking shit.

"That's just insulting," I whispered, "I make a point to always use my whole ass."

Just ask Daryl.

He snickered, bumping his shoulder with mine and I smiled. At least someone appreciated my effort.

I eyed the decrypted, white house in front of us with more than a little skepticism. It was the first semi-decent structure we'd come across in four days which meant we were exploring it despite the numerous walkers we could see through the dirt stained windows. And by semi-decent I meant it had a roof that wasn't completely caved in. The possibility of finding food was slim at best, but slim was better than none.

"Think we'll find anything?" T asked as we slowly made our way towards the house.

"Other than dead people?" That earned me a glare and I shrugged. "Food, probably not, but maybe a night with half a roof over our heads and that's something."

Right about now that was the apocalyptic equivalent of a winning lotto ticket. I couldn't remember the last time hadn't slept crammed into cars or on the unforgivingly hard ground. I spotted a couch in the living room earlier while scouting and that bed bug infested piece of crap had my name on it.

"You are so glass half empty," he commented.

"My glass is realistic not empty. There are at least three walkers hanging out downstairs."

"And?"

I stopped walking, shaking my head at him. "T, why do you think they're still there?" When he didn't answer I started walking again, answering my own question. "Most likely because they decided to hole up in their house thinking it would save them and died. Whatever food they had stocked is long gone."

"Depends, maybe they died early and never got a chance to eat it."

I smirked. "Your glass is full of bullshit my friend."

There was optimistic and then there was T. He huffed at me as we caught up with the others, squatting down behind a few abandoned cars as Rick surveyed the house.

"OK, normal formations. Be careful. No one do anything stupid."

He looked directly at me when he said the last part, as did everyone else.

"Promise," I swore, holding my pinky finger out to him. He looked at my finger, confused. "It's a pinky promise like a blood oath, but more civilized." And less messy.

He sighed, moving past me without cementing the promise. I dropped my hand with a shrug. If that was how he wanted to play it so be it. Pinky promises were serious shit so anything that happened from this point forward was technically not my fault. In my book an "oops" was better than a "what if" any day of the week.