• our memories are gifts that show us that life, even through the toughest times, is worth living •
This is the worst idea I've ever heard. It has no basis. By the sounds of it, the whole thing was thought up just so that Merle has something to laugh about behind the backs of anyone we may meet.
Bonnie's beside herself with excitement. Naturally, Merle has convinced my daughter that the whole thing is a brilliant idea. She's under the impression that this means Daryl's now her father (how the fuck Merle convinced of that, I don't know).
Daryl has been glaring at his brother for the entirety of his explanation. He's about as impressed by this as I am.
"It's a great idea!" Merle exclaims, "There ain't nothin' that could go wrong."
"I can think of countless ways it could go wrong." I cut in, despite the fact Merle's paying me no attention.
"This way she and happy feet over 'ere get to hang around," Merle says, "And we don't get accused of kidnappin' whenever we run into new people."
"Why would you get accused of—"
Merle snorts, "C'mon sugar. Look around ya. You and I both know that if we get some pricks rolling through 'ere they're gonna take one look at us and think we're holdin' ya at gun point."
"That's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" I frown, wiping my hands on my thighs to rid them of the sweat.
"Two rednecks and a pretty lil' thing like you? That's always the first thing goin' through their heads." Merle says, "This'll fix t'at."
"A ring isn't going to solve anything Merle." I try to reason, although I don't know why I bother. There's no reasoning with Merle.
"Well they ain't gonna think we're holdin' a gun to your head though are they?" Merle retorts, "That's the point of it."
"Man, did ya hit ya head while ya were in t'ere or somethin'?" Daryl snaps, "This is stupid."
"Just put the goddamn ring on, sugar." Merle shoves it in my direction, "Ain't gonna hurt ya."
"Pardon me if I don't take your word for it." I run a hand through my hair, letting a deep breath slip from between my lips as I stare at the ring being held out to me.
"Daryl's already got one! See!" Merle points at the may-have-been-stolen ring on Daryl's forth finger, "It's a match made in heaven."
"Ya crazy." Daryl says, an openly confused expression upon his face.
"He's right." I lean back against the truck, ignoring the pang in my leg at the adjustment, "You've gone mental. There's no way a pair of rings is going to stop people from thinking there's something dodgy about you, Merle. I don't think there's anything on this planet that could fix that."
Daryl lets out a short laugh, "She ain't wrong."
Merle lifts his empty hand up, giving us the finger, "Fuck the both of ya's."
My eyes widen, and I glance down at Bonnie to make sure she didn't hear, "Watch your language, would you?"
"Sugar, the least of t'at kids problems is a lil' bit of swearin'." Merle waves his hand as if waving away any argument either Daryl or I could come up with, "Are ya gonna put the ring on yourself or d'ya want Daryl to put it on for ya? Make it a nice lil' ceremony?"
I narrow my eyes at him, "You think you're so funny—"
"Darlin', I think I'm hilarious, but that ain't the matter at hand 'ere."
Daryl rolls his eyes, folding his arms across his chest, "Merle, ain't got no interest in playin' ya games."
"Sugar." Merle ignores his brother, tilting his head a little as he stares at me, "Put the ring on."
"I don't see—"
"We ain't debating." Merle cuts me off, "Put it on."
I scowl, taking the ring from him. I slip it on my forth finger, not bothering to see what it looks like on.
"T'ere we go." Merle grins, glancing between Daryl and I mischievously, "Till death do ya sorry asses part."
🏹
As you can imagine, Merle hasn't stopped with the teasing. He's been making 'just married' puns ever since we got back on the road.
It's as irritating as it sounds. Daryl looks more and more ready to punch him with every word that comes out of his brothers mouth.
Daryl's been quiet, other than the occasional snap at his brother. I was worried at first. He's usually quiet, but considering the scenario Merle's worked us all into I was concerned he was being quiet for a different reason.
However, he's seemed more thoughtful than upset so I think he's just stuck in his own head. It seems to be something he does a lot.
We've been on the open road for a while now. Now we've got whatever they scavenged from the gas station we've had no reason to stop. Not even toilet breaks are an acceptable excuse, according to Merle.
The prick.
I wince as we hit another pothole, silently cursing the existence of potholes in general.
"Ya alright?" Daryl asks, his voice gruff.
I lift my head, meeting his eyes for a moment, "Yeah. I'm good."
"Is it ya leg?" He continues, shifting closer to me, "Let me check the stitches."
"You haven't got to—"
By the time I say the words, Daryl's hands are already on my leg: warm and heavy. He moves the jeans around a little, his fingers lightly pressing the stitches to check for tears.
"I think y'alright." He says, "There ain't any tears or nothin'."
"It's the potholes." I tell him, "When the truck dips into them it jolts my leg."
"Ain't nothin' we can do 'bout that." Daryl frowns, "We ain't even got a pillow or nothin' to put underneath it."
"Don't worry about it," I pat his hand, "I'm a big girl. I'll manage."
He doesn't say anything to that. I do hope he isn't doubting my ability to get by. I'm an excellent adapter.
"Where are we going anyway?" I ask, shifting slightly due to an ache in my back, "Does he plan to stay on the road all night?"
Daryl shrugs, "Most likely, knowin' Merle."
"Wouldn't it be better to find somewhere to hold up?"
"Depends." His hands are still on my leg, "Could get ourselves killed."
"By sleeping in a bed?"
"People kill people too." Daryl says, "If we let our guard down... we could end up with a bullet between our eyes."
"So..." I glance at the passing trees, "We just keep moving?"
"Yeah," He shrugs, "Best that way."
We're silent for a bit longer and he takes his hands away from my leg. They move to his hair, running through it like he's frustrated.
"Merle's pushy." Daryl says suddenly.
I frown, "I had noticed, yeah." I'm not sure where this is going, or where the topic came from.
"Ya don't have to wear it." At my apparent confusion, Daryl continues, "The ring."
I'd actually forgotten about that. I look down at it now. It's not anything fancy. The silver looks nice against my skin, I suppose. There's a few diamonds (though I'm not sure they're real — Merle found the thing in a gas station for crying out loud) but they're not huge. They look like studs: you know, the small ones that go in your ears: because they're small and placed in the ring. The silver has been carved so that the gap is deep enough to fit a few diamonds without having them stick out.
Despite the complete insanity of which the reasoning for me wearing is, I'm thankful for that. There's less change of it catching on anything, that way.
Also, for a ring found in a gas station, it's not half bad. It's actually quite... pretty.
"It'll keep Merle quiet if nothing else, right?" I smile, turning my attention back to Daryl.
"I guess." He says, a frown deepening on his face.
For reasons I have no desire to delve into right now, I don't like it when he frowns. It ruins the softness of his face and makes him seem harsher. While there's nothing wrong with harsh, if that's just the way you're built, Daryl isn't like that.
"And," I grin, drawing his attention to my face, "It's the prettiest piece of jewellery I've worn in a while."
He smiles back a little, ducking his head, "T'at helps."
"Are you kidding?" I say, adding more playful tone to my voice that hasn't been used in a longtime, "Merle found this is a gas station. In the old world I'd have been paying hundreds for this."
"Don't think he found it by chance." Daryl glances at it, "He was lookin' for stuff to steal."
A hum vibrates against my lips, "Does it count as stealing if there's no one to steal from?"
"Think it's called lootin'." He supplies, binging his leg up so that he can rest his elbow on his knee.
"Am I going to get arrested for wearing this?" I teased "They never came for yours, did they?"
Daryl lets out a short laugh, "There ain't nobody around to arrest ya."
"Hey!" I nudge his side, "Merle was right. Our rings really do match."
"That right?" Daryl says.
"Oh yeah." I rest my arm on the side of the truck, leaning my head back again, "They're both stolen."
Daryl nods, laughing a little, "There is that." He leans back, his head against the partition.
"It's a story to tell the grandkids, at least." He seems amused by my words, which is far better than the frown he was sporting earlier, "How're we supposed to sell a story to people we don't know?"
He shrugs, "Gotta have a backstory."
"Like..."
"Like where we met. When we got married. All that shit." He says, staring out at the road, "The details. Gotta Make sure the stories match up."
"Right." The sky's getting darker with every mile we drive, "Okay. Where did you grow up?"
"What's that got ta do with anythin'?"
"Just answer." I nudge him again.
Daryl huffs, moving to bring his other leg up too, "Born and raised in Georgia. You?"
"I'm from a little town just outside of Atlanta. Moved to the city when I had Bonnie." I watch the trees as we drive past them, "I needed to get away. Small towns are breeding grounds for scandals but hell for the people in them."
He nods and doesn't say anything to that. I'm not sure what there is to say, but nevertheless I'm grateful for the lack of comment. The last thing I want to do is dig into the particularly negative areas in my life.
"You ever been had your car worked on?"
"What, like at a shop?"
"Yeah." He nods, glancing over at me for a moment before his gaze drifts back to the road.
"Oh, yeah." I reply, "I mean, who hasn't?"
He's quiet, until he's found something to say, "That's where we met."
"Are you sure?" I ask. It seems a bit see through. Basic, even. Kind of like something people who were lying would think up.
Which, you know, is exactly what we are. Maybe it fits.
Daryl clicks his shoulder as he moves, "Yeah. I worked at one of them places. Fixed cars."
"You were a mechanic?" A small smile moves onto my face, "I'm not surprised. It suits you."
He shrugs, "We'll say t'at's how we met. You brought ya car in, I fixed it."
"Then we went for drinks at a little bar and drank wine all evening." I chime in, smiling at the idea of it.
"Nah," He says, disgust evident in his features, "Ain't drinkin' no damn wine."
"Oh I see," I tease, smiling over at him, "You're a hard liquor kind of man."
"Damn right." Daryl retorts, "Wine's a rich man's drink."
"Or the french." I say, "The french like their wine."
"The french like a lot of things," Daryl tilts his head up to look at the sky, "Don't mean anyone else gotta."
I watch the sky darken into shades of light pinks, oranges and reds, "So we went to a bar. I had my wine and you had your utterly distasteful liquor."
"You don't know what ya talkin' 'bout woman." Daryl grunts, "Ain't nothin' better than hard liquor."
"We'll agree to disagree." The wind feels nice against my skin. Soothing. The front compartment of the truck takes the harshest slap of air, since we're diving against it, so all that's left is the soft breeze.
I lean over, resting my head against his shoulder. He doesn't say anything, so I don't bother moving. It's comfortable, anyway. He's not wearing his leather, so the soft material of the flannel shirt he's got on feels nice against my cheek and temple.
He moves his arm, sliding it behind my back. His hand rests on my side hesitantly, as if he not sure he's welcome. I shift closer to him, tucking myself into his side easier. Neither of us says anything. We don't comment on the way we're sat, instead choosing to remain silent for a while. It's warm, and comfortable, and there's nothing to complain about.
"Honey." Daryl says, not quite a whisper but softly enough that it barely disrupts the quiet.
"Yeah?" I, myself, do whisper. The moment feels fragile, for some reason. As if too loud of a noise will shatter it to pieces.
"We got married outside, with trees around us and a priest who knew damn well we ain't religious so spent the whole time scowling." Daryl says, a laugh erupts from throat at the imagery that puts in my mind, "I don't have no family, 'cept Merle, but yours came."
I smile softly, turning my head into his chest, "Bonnie was the prettiest little flower girl anyone has ever seen."
"Damn right she was." His chest rumbles when he speaks, I can feel it against my skin, "An' we had venison for the sit down meal. None of that posh shit."
"Ah," I close my eyes, picturing it all in my head, "Deer, potatoes, peas and wine."
"What'd I say about that wine shit?" He grunts, "We're only servin' the best at our wedding."
"Oh, naturally." Laughing, I tuck my ringed hand between my thighs to keep it warm, "All the guests ate, and drank, and danced the whole night."
"Merle didn't cause no fuss," Daryl cuts in, though he grumbles the next part, "Fer once in 'is life."
"For our honeymoon we went to a cabin somewhere," It gets chilly, I've noticed, in the evening in Georgia, "Where it's quiet and peaceful. My mom kept Bonnie for the week."
"Sounds nice." Daryl says, "S'a pretty picture we're paintin'."
"There's nothing wrong with a pretty picture." I breathe in the fresh air (and the scent of pine, though I can guess where that comes from), "If I can trick my brain into thinking these are memories I'll have something move to think about when things get really shitty."
Daryl grunts, his hand flexing on my hip, "Merle ain't so stupid after all."
"God, don't tell him that." I grin into his chest, sure that he can feel it despite the cloth in the way, "You know we'll never hear the end of it."