Lips Like Kerosene
Merle Dixon is a man of routine. Every Friday night, he starts his weekend at Skeeter's, and depending on the situation tells the rest of his weekend. But after Carrie Andrews walked in, there's a break in the routine. After their first drunken night together after her first time at Skeeter's, things only seem to pick up between the older redneck and the young southern queen. He's able to charm his way around her, and she has him wrapped around her finger to the point that she's actually cooking breakfast. And this all confuses Daryl to no end.
In this fic, it would start about a year or so before the apocalypse would happen, so in my mind Daryl is around 35 and Merle is around 43.
This is a short story, I'll have to warn you. Short and sweet, and lots of time lapse until we hit the big Z.
"She bit her lip as she studied him from her seat, helplessly attracted to the way he smoked in the morning after sex all the way to when he handle a gun; she was irrevocably, and shamelessly hooked on him."
"And he could not understand for the life of him how his asshole brother roped her in, or how she managed to get him wrapped around her little finger--though he did have a few ideas, ones he'd rather not think about his brother and her performing."
"She intrigued him, what with the way she giggled or how she didn't mind his crude behaviors, or even the fact that she came to him, a washed up older man with nothing going for him."
"Looks like Legs has a friend."
"I mean, I get that you probably won't call, and that's fine," she said with a small, sad smile and a shrug.
Daryl stopped abruptly in his tracks as he saw the back of the skinny, fit figured woman, humming as she sizzled bacon in a pan, and his eyes involuntarily went down to her bare skinny legs.
"Hello?" he grunted into his phone, wondering who the hell was calling him this late, right when he got off work. "Daryl?" he heard a woman sob.
'You are cordially invited...'
"You're my sister, you belong here!" she whined in her annoying squeal that Carrie hated to love, the tears pouring down her cheeks. "No, Gen. I never have. Bye."
Somewhere in her, it was like the holiday months kept a part of her going, like looking forward to these days had given her something to keep living for...
"I'm gonna be shooting better than you guys soon," Carrie teased with a grin.
"Happy birthday to me," Carrie muttered under her breath as she took another swig out of the bottle.