Stale M&M's (recently plagiarized as "Sweet Tooth") The Walking Dead Fanfiction

1. The Separation of Two Brothers

This story will follow the original show's main arc, before moving on to Dead City, with small sprinkles of lore wherever necessary from Fear, Daryl Dixon, Tales, World Beyond, and The Ones Who Live. Please be aware that although this is a Carl x OMC (and much much later a Carl x Enid x OMC) story, the plot will focus on much more than just their love-lives. Content Warnings will be provided as the story goes on for a range of dark or adult themes, and while there are sexual references/scenes throughout the story, they remain in-explicit (no smut) and plot relevant, especially for the duration when the characters are underage, for obvious reasons. Please enjoy the story! It's very close to my heart.

Summary: The story begins with two brothers, a finger skateboard, and some stale M&M's.

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PART ONE:
FOR THE LOVE OF CANDY

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ELEVEN MONTHS SINCE THE TURN
𖦹
2011

"Dude," Patrick complained, "they're stale."

The teenager handed the packet of M&M's to Oliver, who, unlike his older brother, stuffed his mouth with the colourful chocolate, too hungry to care. Patrick was right. The candy was gritty and crumbly, but it tasted just as good - plus, stale or not, Oliver loved chocolate. Loved it like he loved comfortable silences and a thick pair of socks. He loved chocolate like he loved how things were back when people were alive and talking instead of dead and trying to eat him.

Spring flowers were blooming through a hole in the store's ceiling. Oliver and his brother had been wandering on the road since fall. Getting through the winter almost killed them. They wouldn't have made it at all if it weren't for the people they'd met since leaving home, but those people were dead now and anybody else they'd met since had either left them behind or wanted them dead, so nowadays, with summer on the way, they kept to themselves, never staying in one place for too long so that people, living or dead, wouldn't find them at all anymore.

As they headed for the front of the store, Patrick slung an arm over Oliver's shoulder, and with a hard yank, suddenly the younger boy was getting the worst noogie of his whole life. Eventually Oliver shoved Patrick off, who laughed at the state of his hair. Oliver could only imagine how feral he looked, aware that he already owned the messiest jewfro in existence. Both of them needed a shower, as well as something better than their fingers for a toothbrush and clothes that didn't itch and food that wasn't served twitching or with a shelf-life older than they both were... except they didn't get that anymore.

It wasn't worth getting mad over, so Oliver emptied the last few M&M's into his brother's palm and with a grimace, Patrick ate every one.

In return, he handed Oliver a tiny finger skateboard. He seemed not to have found anything else either, except some Lego. No real food. To cope, Oliver rode the fingerboard with his middle and ring along an empty shelf, grinding the edge like a rail.

Being hungry sucked, but at least being hungry and distracted sucked less.

Suddenly, Patrick said, "Catch!" and a red Lego hit Oliver square in the forehead. Flinching, he clutched his face and sent a reactive kick his brother's way. Patrick dodged it, laughing. He cleaned his glasses with the stained hem of his t-shirt.

"Found more inhalers for you," he said, which surprised Oliver. "Store's got a pharmacy."

As Patrick reached towards Oliver's shoulder, Oliver let him twist him around and empty the inhalers into his backpack. Checking over his shoulder, he counted three along with various pill boxes and first aid supplies. Finally, Patrick zipped the backpack up again and Oliver turned to him with a triumphant grin. Patrick, however, looked less relieved. Oliver knew why - his brother was thinking about a few days ago when Oliver'd had an asthma attack. It was so bad he'd blacked out. Patrick said he'd put him in the recovery position, but Oliver didn't remember that part. He just remembered waking up in the evening with a headache and a hug. That part was nice, he guessed.