Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Luck Favors the Prepared

It may have been fall teetering on the verge of winter, but when you spent from sunup till sundown engaged in manual labor it was still hot. Sweat dripped down my face, beads of salty tears I could taste on my lips. I felt it trickling down my back, free flowing like condensation on a window pane, making my tank top stick to my skin uncomfortably. The longer we were out here the less bearable the conditions became. Really I shouldn't be complaining. The heat in Virginia was nothing compared to Georgia, and soon enough it would be so cold we'd wish for heat stroke, but complaining made the time go faster.

I watched Daryl roll a wheelbarrow over to Rick, and sighed dreamily. He had to be just as hot as I was, but you wouldn't know it. Nothing in his demeanor betrayed the affects of the heat, or our never-ending to do list in preparations to move the herd. We'd been working since sunrise, but he showed no signs of fatigue. He kept his head down, working diligently, oblivious to the stares of the female population. Not that I blamed them. If our day was half as nice as his ass I'd be a happy camper.

I licked my lips as I watched him unloading sandbags. The sheen of sweat coating his arms made them glistening in the afternoon sun, and was almost pornographic. The way it highlighted the contours of his defined muscles reminded what a powerhouse he was, and made my heart gallop in my chest. His body was built to perform at peak physical condition, and boy did it show. Maybe I would pass the time fantasizing about my husband instead of grumbling about the weather.

I reluctantly tore my eyes away from my smokin' hot significant other when Deadpool dumped a shovel of sand on my arms. Not the open sandbag, not the ground, my arms. My head snapped up, mouth opened to rip her a new one, but I stopped when I saw her thunderous scowl. I'd incorrectly assumed she'd done it on purpose because I was planning tonight's marital congress instead of concentrating on work. I was wrong. She wasn't focused on me. In fact, she wasn't focused on work at all.

Shaking my head I dropped the bag to the ground, standing and wiping sand that was reluctant to leave my arms due to perspiration. Even that didn't draw my friend's attention away from the silent exchange currently taking place between Rick and Jesse. I reached out, prying the shovel from her hands before she decided to use it as a weapon, but still her eyes never strayed from the pair who were oblivious to her interloping.

This had to stop. When guys got jealous it could be cute, kind of, if you were into that sort of bullshit. When girls got jealous it was liable to start WWIII. We had a pretty full schedule the next couple of weeks. I didn't have time to help Deadpool hide Jesse's body.

"Jealousy does not look good on you my friend."

That got her attention. Her eyes snapped to me, face deadly. "I'm not jealous."

I shook my head in fake agreement, fishing one of Daryl's old shirt sleeves out of my back pocket and offering to her. "Here, you have a little bullshit right there."

I pointed at her face, and she slapped my hand away. She snatched the shovel back with a huff that made me smile. I knelt down, picking up the sandbag and holding it open so she could shovel dirt in. Until now I didn't know it was possible to shovel dirt angrily, but Deadpool was doing it.

"I'm not jealous." She continued to scoop dirt into the full bag. She didn't stop. Not even when the bag was overflowing. I didn't say anything because I didn't want a shovel to the forehead. "I'm not."

I wasn't sure if she was trying to convince me or herself.

"How long are you two going to dance around this?" Daryl always said I was suicidal. Judging by the way she was looking at me right now I had to agree he had a point. "Come on, it's me you're talking to. You guys have been eye fucking each other since the prison."