walsh ❈ carl grimes gay

fourteen.

"I think it's important for us to have a talk, daddy."
I sigh, fiddling my thumbs as I slowly walk towards the kitchen barstools.

He makes a weird nose in his throat, it was sorta like a grunt, but it was some sort of alternative for letting me know he was listening... or half listening since we are talking about Shane Walsh.

"You're super mad at me, and I understand why because I was careless and I did let my guard down, but I'm so happy with my little blessing!"
I begin.
"I don't need you to respect what I did, I don't need you to like what I did, but I would like for you to accept the fact that this baby is going to make me very happy, I don't have to be lonely anymore."

Pouring himself a glass of water, he lets out a huff, barely making direct eye contact with me.

"I-I can't do this without you..."
My voice breaks, and I just wanted to start sobbing right then and there.
"Please."

"I don't like him."
He sneers.
"Haven't in damn near forever, never will. I despise the fact that you disrespected my rules and ain't kept your guard up. I don't like the way he acts, he has no manners and he's a little prick. I ain't ever gonna like the way he is, I will not allow him to step foot in my home or hurt my family, because I will rip him to shreds."

Frowning, I cross my arms over my chest, focusing on the plush rug beneath my bare feet to keep my composure.

"That being said..."
He trails off, sighing.
"I'm too hot to be a grandpa, that word has got to go."

"Oh, my goodness! Thank you!"
I squeak, running over to give him a hug.
"I love you so much, daddy! Thank you!"

"Not fuckin' kidding, grandpa is not even an option."

"Papa works."
I suggest, looking up at him.

He furrows his eyebrows, thinking for a moment.
"We'll work on it."

I hear loud, obnoxious clapping, which startles me, nearly jumping out of my skin with fear.

"I'd like to have a talk with your son, Walsh."
Mister Negan says, Lucille over his shoulder, gloved hands gripped tight.
"Shoo! Go find Carter."

"I'll see you later."
Daddy says, kidding my forehead before shooting a death glare at the older man and walking out of our house.

"Sit, kid."
He orders, plopping down on the plush couch.

Obeying, I sit Indian style on one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table and fiddle my thumbs.
"Hi."

"How do you fucking do?"

"...I do... fine?"
I tilt my head to the side, not exactly understanding how to properly answer him.
"With all due respect, sir, how'd you even get in here?"

"I couldn't help but over-hear the baby talk, that's some shit, ain't it?"
He says, as if I never asked him a question.

I'm quiet.

"How does... this work, exactly?"
The man smiles, tongue poking out between the his top and bottom teeth.
"Is he kind? Is he gentle?"