Daryl sat up in his perch, fiddling with his crossbow. His last hunting trip had left the weapon splattered in mud and walker blood. Daryl studied the mechanisms carefully, using his red bandana to dislodge the bits of grime stuck inside.
At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Daryl didn’t even look up. He knew it was you.
After that night out in the yard, things had shifted between you. Daryl still didn’t know why he’d told you about Merle. He’d never been one to talk much at all, let alone about something so...something like that. Afterwards, he’d half-expected you to finally realize what a lowlife he was and stop talking to him completely. He wouldn’t have blamed you one bit.
But you came back. You started bringing him dinner on the nights he was up in the guard tower, dropping down beside him with your own plate. You joined him outside, just sitting and looking out into the night together, on that bench where you’d held each other.
You didn’t talk about that. Or the kiss you’d left on his cheek he could still feel when he closed his eyes. You never addressed it, and Daryl sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up.
Truthfully, he was afraid. Afraid of admitting how he felt about you, even to himself. Letting that happen was like knocking down all the walls he’d so carefully built.
But he wondered. Daryl wondered why you’d embraced him that night, why you always looked at him like he was something when he knew damn well he wasn’t. He wondered, but he was too afraid to guess.
You flopped down onto his cot, sprawling out on your back and staring up at the ceiling. You exhaled, long and slow, reminding him of a balloon with a tiny hole in its side. Daryl glanced over at you, lips quirking in amusement.
“Long day?”
“Something like that.” You sighed, turning your head to look up at him from the cot. “You? Catch anything?”
“S’alright.” Daryl shrugged, “Didn’t find much. Just a couple o’squirrels.”
You rolled over, propping yourself up on your elbow.
“Hey, that’s not nothing.” You were using your teacher voice again, and Daryl couldn’t help but meet your gaze. “I wish you would stop doing that.”
Unease settled in the pit of his stomach at the disappointment in your tone. Daryl shifted, uncomfortable.
“Doin’ what?” He rasped.
You sat up fully, studying him. Daryl squirmed under your gaze, skin tingling as he got the sense that somehow you could see through all those walls he’d built. That somehow you’d already gotten inside.
“Putting yourself down all the time. Whenever you do something good, you brush it off like it isn’t anything important. If I thank you for something, even something huge like saving my life , you tell me not to.”
Daryl stared down at his crossbow, trying to focus on the green and white fletchings of the bolts, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.
“You do so much for this place. For these people. You deserve to be appreciated for it.” You sighed, “You are truly the best man I know, Daryl Dixon. Someday, I’ll get you to see it.”
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Fanfiction"This place you have," You said. "It's secure?" "Yeah." He scoffed, as if the question offended him. "Th'prison about three miles west." The prison. You were much farther south than you'd thought. "I can take ya there, but you've gotta answer some q...
