Chapter Text
Carl followed Ron up the stairs, his boots echoing against the polished wood. The house smelled of fresh paint and furniture polish - a stark contrast to the decay outside Alexandria's walls. His fingers traced the smooth bannister, still adjusting to the surreal feeling of being in a normal home again.
Ron pushed open his bedroom door. "This is my room."
Posters of bands Carl didn't recognize plastered the walls. A desk cluttered with comic books sat beneath a window, where a dark-haired girl perched reading one. Another boy sprawled across Ron's bed, tossing a tennis ball at the ceiling.
"Guys, this is Carl. He's new here." Ron gestured around the room. "That's Mikey on the bed, and Enid by the window."
Mikey caught the ball and sat up. "Hey man. You're Rick's kid, right?"
"Yeah." Carl shifted his weight, conscious of his dirty jeans and worn boots against the pristine carpet.
Enid barely glanced up from her comic. Her dark eyes flicked over him once before returning to the page.
"We've got PlayStation if you want to play." Ron moved to the TV in the corner. "Though Mikey keeps hogging the good controller."
"I do not." Mikey chucked the tennis ball at Ron's head. "You're the one who rage-quit last time."
"I've never played." Carl admitted. The gaming console looked alien to him after so long on the road.
Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Never? Where were you guys before this?"
"Out there." Carl's hand instinctively moved to where his gun usually sat, finding empty air instead. Alexandria's rules: no weapons inside the walls.
"Well, sit down man. I'll teach you." Ron grabbed two controllers. "Fair warning though - I'm undefeated at Street Fighter."
"We'll see about that." Carl settled cross-legged on the floor as Ron booted up the system.
***
A week had passed, and Carl found himself back in Ron's room. The afternoon sun slanted through the window, casting long shadows across the carpet where they sat shoulder to shoulder. The house was quiet - Enid and Mikey were helping with garden duty.
"You're getting better." Ron's knee bumped against Carl's as he leaned forward, focused on the screen. "But watch this combo-"
His character unleashed a flurry of moves. Carl's fighter crumpled.
"That's cheating." Carl elbowed Ron's ribs, but couldn't help grinning.
"It's called skill." Ron's laugh came easier now, different from the guarded way he'd acted that first day. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it slightly mussed. "Want to try again?"
Carl nodded, hyper-aware of how their shoulders pressed together as Ron reset the match. The controller felt slick in his palms. He'd removed his boots at the door, and his sock-clad toes curled against the carpet.
"Here." Ron's fingers brushed Carl's as he demonstrated a button combination. "Like this."
The touch lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary. Carl's chest tightened, his character standing idle on screen while Ron's continued moving.
"You're not even trying now." Ron bumped his shoulder again.
Carl swallowed, refocusing on the game. But he kept stealing glances at Ron's profile - the way his tongue poked out slightly when he concentrated, how his eyes lit up when he pulled off a particularly impressive move.
"Best two out of three?" Ron asked after winning another round. His voice was softer than usual.
"Yeah." Carl shifted, their knees touching again. Neither moved away.
***
Two months evaporated like dew at dawn. The late afternoon sun beat down on Alexandria's streets as Carl stormed after Ron, gravel crunching under his boots.
"Take it back." Carl's voice cracked with anger.
Ron spun around, his face twisted. "Why? It's true. You act like you're better than everyone here. Like we're all just playing house while you're the real deal."
"That's not-" Carl's fists clenched at his sides.
"You strut around with that gun, looking down on us because we grew up safe. Well guess what? We didn't ask for any of this. We didn't ask for you to come here and-"
Carl launched forward, shoving Ron hard in the chest. Ron stumbled backward, his feet tangling. He grabbed Carl's shirt as he fell, pulling them both down. They hit the ground with a thud that knocked the air from Carl's lungs.
Carl landed on top of Ron, their faces inches apart. Ron's chest heaved beneath him, warm breath fanning across Carl's cheek. Their legs tangled together, Ron's knee pressed between Carl's thighs. Neither moved. The anger drained away, replaced by something electric that made Carl's skin buzz. Ron's fingers were still twisted in his shirt, knuckles brushing against Carl's collarbone.
"I-" Ron's voice came out rough. His eyes darted to Carl's mouth, then back up.
Carl's heart hammered against his ribs. He could feel every point where their bodies connected - hip to hip, chest to chest. A bead of sweat rolled down Ron's temple.
The gravel bit into Carl's palms, but he barely noticed. Ron's breath hitched, his fingers loosening their grip on Carl's shirt. The late afternoon sun caught in Ron's hair, turning the edges golden.
Ron shifted, rolling them over in one fluid motion. Now Carl lay on his back, the weight of Ron pressing him into the ground. A pebble dug into his shoulder blade. Ron's knee still rested between his legs.
Their eyes locked. Carl watched Ron's throat bob as he swallowed. The anger from moments before had transformed into something different, something that made Carl's chest tight and his skin electric.
As Ron's gaze dropped to Carl's mouth again, he leaned down -painfully slow- giving Carl time to push him away. But Carl stayed frozen, heart thundering against his ribs. When Ron's lips touched Carl's, they were softer than Carl expected. The kiss was gentle, hesitant - barely more than a brush of skin against skin.
Then Ron jerked back like he'd been burned. He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. His face flushed red, eyes wide with panic. Without a word, he turned and ran, leaving Carl lying in the gravel, fingers pressed to his tingling lips.