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[farfromthesea]

Summer fades day by day, but Theon's gained the ability by now to trust that the warmth will return. Real warmth and sunshine, greens and blues like he'd never imagined before Darrow, like he can never quite believe might exist in the world from which he came.

There's still a few weeks before it starts to cool again, and Theon makes use of them, dragging the small fishing boat, able to fit maybe three people, not yet rigged with a motor, as close to shore as he thinks will be safe. From there he pulls out everything he can get out of of the boat, until it's a metal shell.

The sun has just started to slide down from where it hangs highest in the sky by the time Theon's ready to scrub the vessel down. As with the previous tasks, he becomes completely absorbed, pausing only to gulp the rest of the water from the bottle in the sand, to strip off his soaked t-shirt. Vaguely, he thinks he'll need to be careful not to burn, but the air feels good, even on his scars.

He has to pause to make his way back up toward the house and the long connected hoses, to spray down the boat-- it's there he sees he's got a visitor.

Comments

[lastmanstandin]

Daryl pulled the bike up along the dirt driveway leading to the cabin and killed the engine. He'd had it running for a few weeks now, grateful for the freedom it gave him, even if that feeling was only an illusion. Unfortunately, riding the bike meant that Dog couldn't come along, so Daryl was alone as he propped the bike up on its kickstand and made his way over.

Theon was bare-chested and flushed from the sun, a network of spiderweb scars criss-crossing his torso, some of them angry and gnarled, while others were silvery pale in the sunlight. Even at a distance, he recognized the work of a knife, a deep puncture wound that had to have been that spear he'd mentioned, the texture of burn scars, and what appeared to be whip marks, too.

Daryl lifted a hand in an awkward wave. "How's it goin'?"

[farfromthesea]

There's a few moments where Theon doesn't think of it, only aware of how pleased he is to see Daryl, and of the breeze on his skin. He raises his hand in return, striding up the path to greet Daryl, his step faltering just so when he realizes that his skin, his scars are on display so thoroughly.

In no way does he think he'll get a negative reaction from Daryl, but that's not really what Theon wants.

Of course, he'll settle for something neutral, right now.

"I was scrubbing out the boat," he says. "But I could use to take a break from it."

[lastmanstandin]

"'s it coming along?" He asked, and while he noticed the way his steps faltered, the way anxiety seemed to flicker briefly in the place of his smile, Daryl didn't acknowledge it.

Instead, he strode up the path, meeting Theon halfway, and keeping a steady and respectful gaze on his face.

[farfromthesea]

Deep in Theon's core, something eases, just a little, and though the absolutely staggered, happy smile is quicksilver in speed and brightness, it happens. Maybe he's going to want to be looked at later, if this thing he feels like could happen does happen; right now, he's got Daryl's eyes meeting his, unaffected by the patchwork of scars.

He almost misses the question.

"Ah-- yeah, it's coming along. I'm mostly just getting her clean tonight. See what I have to work with. She's small enough I wouldn't go out far, but I don't need to, really."

[lastmanstandin]

"Well, come on. Let's see it," he said, trying not to think about how Carol'd run off on her damn fishing boat, her trips longer and longer every damn time. And how hard he'd pushed her to come back, to come home, and what had come of it after. The things she'd done, because he'd twisted her arm about saying in a place so full of ghosts.

Maybe he should've left it the hell alone.

On his way towards the back of the house, he patted Theon's shoulder companionably, just a quick point of contact and a sideways look.

[farfromthesea]

Somewhere, Theon thinks, stupidly fond, Neil's smug as shit for being right. Not necessarily about if Theon can tell if things with Daryl will go like that, though the touch he still swears he can feel on his skin gives him hope. No, more that Theon can do this after all, and that he can feel desire.

It's a step away from frightening.

He still manages to offer a sidelong, crooked grin. "Not as fine as anything I sailed before, but I've seen how they have motors here." The tips of his ears are pink, but it's easier than usual to put that aside. "I've had a mind to try one of the little sailboats they have here."

[lastmanstandin]

"A motor, I could fix, but I ain't never been much of a sailor," he admitted, dropping down into a crouch to get a look at the little aluminum shell.

"Nah, it ain't bad. 's got potential."

It was, like the house had once been, a piece of shit, but they'd made something of that. The boat'd be the same.

"Come on," he said, pushing to his feet. "You said you was taking a break? Let's go get a damn drink."

[farfromthesea]

"Potential," Theon repeats, pleased and amused, fully aware it's like the house. "Aye, with your help again." It could be more than the house, he thinks, and lets the thought stay with him, without being a source of anxiety.

Easy enough to do, in this light, with his body tired from the work. A drink could only help.

"Drink sounds good," he answers, grabbing the supplies he'd just been using. "Beer back at the house, or d'you want to go somewhere?"

[lastmanstandin]

"Uh."

He hadn't thought that far. Even the possibility of going out was still somewhat new to him, after a decade of not having the option, and a lifetime before that not really being the type to socialize with anyone other than his brother and whatever assholes he'd befriended at the time.

"You eaten? We could..." He floundered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the road and the city beyond.

[farfromthesea]

Theon looks up, surprised and pleased. One of the things he really likes about Daryl is the quiet, the not needing to be in the city proper, all of that. And a moment or two later, really thinking about it, he knows that while going out to eat together can be just going to a place that makes food, with a friend, it can also be a date, the thing he's been trying to figure out if he should ask Daryl about.

He doesn't think that's the point of the question, but it makes him feel warm and happy anyway.

"I haven't," Theon says. "We could. There's some places nearby." He smiles, and then kind of turns it to the ground so he doesn't look like an idiot. "You like burgers?"

[lastmanstandin]

"Yeah, I like burgers," he said, with a faint cough of laughter. "You shoot down that damn bird from your rafters, I'd eat it."

He'd never been picky, and it had been a long damn time since he'd had the luxury of eating for taste, and not just outta necessity. Even after months in Darrow, he was still getting used to it.

Motioning towards his bike, he said, "You gonna meet me there, or are you ridin' bitch?"

It was something of a challenge, and he tried not to let himself think too much about how it reminded him of Rick, and the way they'd teased one another.

[farfromthesea]

"I can't shoot that bird," Theon says. "It's supposed to be bad luck, and I kind of like the bastard."

He eyes the bike, considering. In all his time here, he's never been on one, and the part of him that wants to be safe and quiet, that resists. But he's also seen enough people on them that he knows what Daryl means about riding bitch.

A funny little smile curls his mouth up, and he says, "I'd like to ride with you, yeah. Let me grab a fresh shirt." It's a quick jog inside, where he passes over himself with soap and a wet washcloth before throwing on a clean t-shirt on his way back out.

"Ready."