Fanfiction: Squirrel Guts (The Walking Dead)
Title: "Squirrel Guts"
Status: OneShot; complete
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Daryl Dixon, Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes, Shane Walsh
Disclaimer: The Walking Dead belongs to AMC and Robert Kirkman; not mine, no money.
Rating: T
Genre: AU, Season 1, friendship/family, spoiler-free
Warnings: unbeta'ed, language
Summary: You can't read the future in squirrel guts, but they lead to interesting insights anyway...
Note: twd_kinkmeme fill for this prompt. Oh, and I solemnly swear that no squirrels were harmed for this fanfiction ;)
Squirrel Guts
“Carl! Young man, you come back here right now!”
Daryl looked up from his task, not used to hearing Rick angry. Usually the man kept his emotions under wraps, the good and the bad, until he was tied in knots like a coiled spring.
Carl kicked a pebble in frustration but stopped obediently in his tracks to jog back to his father, who was waiting by the fireplace. The kid was pale, but the tips of his ears were flaming red, and not from sunburn.
Daryl had seen that expression often enough in the mirror. As a boy he had resented how the guilty conscience had been written in his face. Not that his pa had needed a reason to be pissed off at him, what with being shitfaced most of the week.
“Yes, dad?”
The other campers glanced over too, but went back to their own stuff easy enough. Not one of them would dare to say a thing about how Rick raised his brat. People always turned a blind eye.
It was none of his business either, no matter that he stood close enough that he would be an unwilling witness anyways, so Daryl reached into the bucket for the next soaked squirrel. The first cuts came quick, mindless routine, until he could pull the skin away.
Rick towered over Carl, who looked just as meek and pathetic as the limp carcass in Daryl's hand.
“Carl, I told you to stay in the camp. Where did you go?”
“Not far.” The boy flinched under his dad's stern look. “Just to the clearing.”
“That's far enough for something to happen.”
Daryl dropped the dripping hide and wiped his hands on his jeans. Damn hairs.
Well, what do you know - no shouting, no raised hand, just a calm conversation. Where he would have spit at his father's feet, gotten the belt, and run off into the woods, Carl stood and stared at his shoes.
Better than a daily soap, these Grimes', complete with love triangle. And yet, they were still less fucked up than his own family. Rick didn't drink or beat Lori to a bloody pulp, didn't look like he would hit Carl either. Instead kisses and hugs all around; made a guy sick to watch.
Had Merle been here he would have laughed, called Daryl a pussy and rubbed it in good, the truth about that bitter feeling.
“I'm sorry, dad.”
Carefully avoiding the organs, Daryl cut up towards the squirrels pelvic bone and split it. Laying it open, he reached inside with already bloody fingers and pulled the intestines and windpipe out.
“I was worried. Carl, we can't afford to let our guard down. You're old enough to know better.”
“I won't do it again!”
“Good, I trust that you won't.”
Daryl watched as Rick pulled his boy into a hug. The easy display of affection soured his mood. It was stupid, spilled milk and all that; waste of time.
Amy came up the path, her bodyguard Glenn in tow and two bulging plastic bags in each hand, “Rick! Look what we found!”
Father and son broke apart.
Daryl averted his eyes, focus back on tonights dinner, but too late, Carl had caught him staring and trotted closer. Daryl cut around the hip bone and twisted the carcass, separating the saddle piece from the legs.
Carl skirted around the bloody camping table full with field-dressed squirrels, nose wrinkled in disgust. City kid would starve without canned food if he didn't get used to it. You had to kill your meal to eat it.
“What?”
“You were watching us.”
“I ain't.”
Of course that was the moment Shane had to chime in, “It's nothing Carl, he just wants a hug too.”
“Really?” Carl got all round eyed.
“Like hell!” Daryl gritted his teeth. He considered throwing his knife but Dale would only get mad when it got stuck in his camper's roof. “Come down here if you have to say something!”
Shane smirked, “Calm down, firecracker, you're making this too easy.”
“Hey, what's going on?”
Everyone turned to Rick, who was coming towards them, empty plastic bags in hand. Carl mumbled something about Lori and ran for it, while Shane just shrugged.
“Nothing.”
“Let's keep it that way.”
Daryl didn't say anything, just reached for the next squirrel. Rick's expression wasn't too different from his son's.
“Don't like it, don't eat it. Nobody's forcing you. More for the rest of us.”
Rick snorted, “Are you kidding? Without you, we would only get fish and Amy would have poisoned us all with her mushrooms; I'm pretty sure I saw death caps in todays collection. - Anyway, thank you for your contribution, your skills are invaluable out here.”
Daryl flinched when Rick gave his shoulder a friendly pat, “We all appreciate that.”
Daryl had to clear his throat. “Right.”
Shane didn't comment. Smart move.
The End
Status: OneShot; complete
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Daryl Dixon, Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes, Shane Walsh
Disclaimer: The Walking Dead belongs to AMC and Robert Kirkman; not mine, no money.
Rating: T
Genre: AU, Season 1, friendship/family, spoiler-free
Warnings: unbeta'ed, language
Summary: You can't read the future in squirrel guts, but they lead to interesting insights anyway...
Note: twd_kinkmeme fill for this prompt. Oh, and I solemnly swear that no squirrels were harmed for this fanfiction ;)
Squirrel Guts
“Carl! Young man, you come back here right now!”
Daryl looked up from his task, not used to hearing Rick angry. Usually the man kept his emotions under wraps, the good and the bad, until he was tied in knots like a coiled spring.
Carl kicked a pebble in frustration but stopped obediently in his tracks to jog back to his father, who was waiting by the fireplace. The kid was pale, but the tips of his ears were flaming red, and not from sunburn.
Daryl had seen that expression often enough in the mirror. As a boy he had resented how the guilty conscience had been written in his face. Not that his pa had needed a reason to be pissed off at him, what with being shitfaced most of the week.
“Yes, dad?”
The other campers glanced over too, but went back to their own stuff easy enough. Not one of them would dare to say a thing about how Rick raised his brat. People always turned a blind eye.
It was none of his business either, no matter that he stood close enough that he would be an unwilling witness anyways, so Daryl reached into the bucket for the next soaked squirrel. The first cuts came quick, mindless routine, until he could pull the skin away.
Rick towered over Carl, who looked just as meek and pathetic as the limp carcass in Daryl's hand.
“Carl, I told you to stay in the camp. Where did you go?”
“Not far.” The boy flinched under his dad's stern look. “Just to the clearing.”
“That's far enough for something to happen.”
Daryl dropped the dripping hide and wiped his hands on his jeans. Damn hairs.
Well, what do you know - no shouting, no raised hand, just a calm conversation. Where he would have spit at his father's feet, gotten the belt, and run off into the woods, Carl stood and stared at his shoes.
Better than a daily soap, these Grimes', complete with love triangle. And yet, they were still less fucked up than his own family. Rick didn't drink or beat Lori to a bloody pulp, didn't look like he would hit Carl either. Instead kisses and hugs all around; made a guy sick to watch.
Had Merle been here he would have laughed, called Daryl a pussy and rubbed it in good, the truth about that bitter feeling.
“I'm sorry, dad.”
Carefully avoiding the organs, Daryl cut up towards the squirrels pelvic bone and split it. Laying it open, he reached inside with already bloody fingers and pulled the intestines and windpipe out.
“I was worried. Carl, we can't afford to let our guard down. You're old enough to know better.”
“I won't do it again!”
“Good, I trust that you won't.”
Daryl watched as Rick pulled his boy into a hug. The easy display of affection soured his mood. It was stupid, spilled milk and all that; waste of time.
Amy came up the path, her bodyguard Glenn in tow and two bulging plastic bags in each hand, “Rick! Look what we found!”
Father and son broke apart.
Daryl averted his eyes, focus back on tonights dinner, but too late, Carl had caught him staring and trotted closer. Daryl cut around the hip bone and twisted the carcass, separating the saddle piece from the legs.
Carl skirted around the bloody camping table full with field-dressed squirrels, nose wrinkled in disgust. City kid would starve without canned food if he didn't get used to it. You had to kill your meal to eat it.
“What?”
“You were watching us.”
“I ain't.”
Of course that was the moment Shane had to chime in, “It's nothing Carl, he just wants a hug too.”
“Really?” Carl got all round eyed.
“Like hell!” Daryl gritted his teeth. He considered throwing his knife but Dale would only get mad when it got stuck in his camper's roof. “Come down here if you have to say something!”
Shane smirked, “Calm down, firecracker, you're making this too easy.”
“Hey, what's going on?”
Everyone turned to Rick, who was coming towards them, empty plastic bags in hand. Carl mumbled something about Lori and ran for it, while Shane just shrugged.
“Nothing.”
“Let's keep it that way.”
Daryl didn't say anything, just reached for the next squirrel. Rick's expression wasn't too different from his son's.
“Don't like it, don't eat it. Nobody's forcing you. More for the rest of us.”
Rick snorted, “Are you kidding? Without you, we would only get fish and Amy would have poisoned us all with her mushrooms; I'm pretty sure I saw death caps in todays collection. - Anyway, thank you for your contribution, your skills are invaluable out here.”
Daryl flinched when Rick gave his shoulder a friendly pat, “We all appreciate that.”
Daryl had to clear his throat. “Right.”
Shane didn't comment. Smart move.
The End