Flashlight

Author's Preface: During a conversation with MacDixon Love, I was given a lovely prompt, as follows: "Oooh is that a flashlight or is that- oh thats a flashlight... damn.. THAT isnt a flashlight though is it?" I wrote a short story, a drabble, even, and was encouraged to post it... So here it is! I have not had this Beta'd, nor edited by anyone other than myself. All errors are mine, and mine alone. Hope you all enjoy this short story, and may The Walking Dead live a long and prosperous time on air!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Walking Dead. I do not own the characters herein. They are owned by the people who own them, which I believe includes, but may not be limited to: Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore, Charlie Adlard, and AMC. My apologies if that is an incorrect or incomplete list.

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"Flashlight? Ah'll show yu a flashlight..." Daryl grumbled, before he rolled over and pinned Rick down. "This here ain' no damn flashlight."

Rick grinned up at Daryl, "What is it then? Are you just happy to see me?"

The moment drew on, Daryl staring at Rick incredulously, and pressed his hip into Rick's thigh, wondering what the frustrating bastard was playing at. "Ye really think tha's me? I canno' believe yeh, Rick." A smile blossomed on Daryl's lips, for when he said the other man's name, he felt how Rick had shivered... Then he shoved his hand into his pocket, retrieving a silver, small cylinder. "How tha hell yu thought this," he paused, clicking the small object, it's bright white light blinding Rick suddenly, "Damn penligh' was me. I should toss yu outa' my tent this damn instant!"

Rick's eyes twinkled in his mischievous glee, as Daryl played right into his plans, "Oh, you're right, that's too big to be you, isn't it?"

If Daryl had had any less self-restraint, he would have punched Rick then and there. Instead, he clicked the penlight back on, taking his petty revenge where he could, and enjoying every moment of those sparkling blue eyes contracting in the fierce light.

"Okay, okay!" Rick laughed, "I give, I deserved that..."

"Damn right, yeh did..." Daryl grumbled quietly, then grunted with surprise as the warmth of Rick's hand was suddenly on his stomach, his palm smoothing the tension of holding himself above Rick- But he wasn't done. Rick had gone for a low blow, and it was only right that he get what he deserved, besides, just when had Rick wriggled loose from Daryl's grip? He leaned over Rick, and smirked as he inhaled the scent of the man below him, the fingers on his belly twitched, and Daryl noted he could see Rick's pants clearly tenting under him. The smell was exotic, like cardimum and cloves, but with just the hint of a smokey coffee's richness thrown in. Daryl opened his mouth, and slowly gave a ghost of his warm breath over the exposed flesh of shoulder and neck, and then bit Rick, hard.

"Ouch!" Rick yelped, and squirmed, and Daryl's intoxicating presence was gone from him, the man already off the bed, and on the other side of the tent pulling on his shirt with a wry grin at rick's crotch, where it was obvious that he was painfully aroused now. "What did you do that for?"

"Aw, don't be such a baby, Rick. Yu know damn well what ah did tha' for!" And with that, Daryl was gone from the tent, and between the bright red mark on his neck, and the obvious... condition he was in, he knew he had been checkmated. He couldn't even go after Daryl for payback!

'Moral of the story,' Rick mused to himself, taking deep breaths and wishing his shirt wasn't outside hanging up to dry, 'Is don't tease about Dixon's manhood. Ever.'