Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

The Devil You Know

"I'm tellin' ya, they don't fit."

I glared at my brother-in-law. "And I'm telling you to fuck off."

He sighed heavily, slouching in his chair with a skeptical eyebrow raised I refused to acknowledge. Instead, I took a deep breath and fell back onto the bed. I cursed and struggled, wiggling around in an attempt to button my jeans. Hell, screw buttoning them. At this point I'd settle for the ends touching, however briefly.

Groaning in defeat I let my arms fall against the bed. "They don't fit."

"No shit."

"I hate you."

"Ya want these?"

I turned my head, cringing at the maternity jeans in his hands. "I'd rather die."

He scoffed, "Ya keep trying to squeeze in those damn jeans and ya just might."

If someone told me a few months ago this situation wouldn't faze me I would have called them batshit crazy. Things like privacy and being left alone were a thing of the past. The only thing more protective than a Dixon was two Dixon's. Add a wife with an overstuffed uterus, and you didn't get to do things like be by yourself, ever.

"Toss me the sweatpants," I sighed, refusing to sit up. I could practically hear Merle's disapproval. I kept my chin raised defiantly, even when the sweatpants landed on my face. "You can take your silent judgment and walk it down the road."

"I didn't say nothing," he countered.

"You were thinking it."

He wisely kept his mouth shut, watching me roll onto my side before swinging my legs to the floor. Once both feet were firmly planted, I rocked back then pushed on the plush mattress, struggling to create the momentum I needed to stand. Merle was by my side in the blink of an eye, flesh hand on my upper arm. He hauled me off the bed, eyebrows furrowed in concern that had been there since he found out he was going to be an uncle twice over.

I moaned, my back muscle straining in protest. "I remember being able to get up without sounds effects, good times."

The door swung open, Daryl standing in the threshold holding a crossbow and sporting a serious scowl. My body tensed. I knew that look.

"We got company," he announced, eyes flicking to his brother briefly.

The two shared a moment of silent redneck communication before Merle nodded and left the room. Once he was gone my husband eyed me head to toe, lips twitching ever so slightly.

"I like yur pants."

Narrowing my eyes at him I gestured to my ever-expanding waistline. "This is what happens when Netflix and chill goes too far."

"I don't know what that means." He shifted his weight, biting his thumbnail. "Don't suppose I could convince ya to stay up here?"

I barked out a laugh, walking to our dresser and pulling out two knives and a gun. My husband cleared his throat awkwardly as I strode past him and into the hall. Merle and Francine paused, glancing briefly at the weapons in my hands then the man behind me.

Merle cackled like the insane person he was, "Damn Darlina, ya rolled over like a hooker on Quaaludes."

Francine slapped her husband upside the head at the same time Daryl expressed his feelings about me not staying locked in our room with creative hand gestures. The fact they thought their half assed plan to keep me squirreled away would work was as insulting as it was hilarious.

Chief Ramhorn barked when we walked down the stairs. Only a few weeks ago he was a small, fluffy, adorable dog. Now he was a large, fluffy, adorable dog. He had easily doubled in size and showed no sign of slowing down anytime soon. Yesterday I watched Nugget ride him down the street. I was pretty sure we'd adopted a horse, not a dog.