The Woman at The End of The World. (Daryl Dixon)

thirtynine.

Daryl struts into our room while I'm in nothing, but my bra and underwear, rifling through the clothes, trying to find my usual ass kicking attire. Once I find the pieces I'm searching for, I throw them on the bed.  My swords clang together, "I need to replace those fucking guns." I growl in frustration. I feel strong hands land on my hips while his lips paint little kisses along my neck.

"We will. Hey, Ya are beautiful, ya know that?" He breathes through kisses, leaving tiny goosebumps in his trail. His fingers play with the hem of my underwear.

"Dare, if you want me to tag along with you and Rick, we can't be late." I smirk as his head falls into my neck, defeated.

"Guess I'm still gettin' used to this 'cause I ain't deserve ya, but here we are." He mumbles against my skin.

I sigh, "You do deserve me." I swat at his hands, "later," I promise. "We got shit to do."

"I'm gonna find Denise before we leave." He pulls his hands away. "I'll meet ya on the porch."

I smile over my shoulder at him, "got it, now get out before I change my mind. I don't need to get distracted by your godly sex appeal." I wink, grinning wider as he groans.

After ten minutes, Daryl and I are stalking through Alexandria side by side. I'm armed to teeth with my favorite weapons; still angry over my fucking guns being with that dumbass blonde and his wife. Foregoing my cardigan, I had dragged my leather coat on over my black top. My leather pants singing with every movement. My red scarf is a lost cause after dressing Daryl's wounds. It's long been discarded.

"Ya didn't wear the boots." He points out.

"Yeah, I have a feeling I'm going to be thankful I wore tennis shoes instead."

He grunts at my answer, "I never saw you without any kind of boots." He spots Denise, gesturing her to join us. "You're talkin' 'bout the drink, right?"

She nods, "I am, but It's not medical. No, I drew a line between the important stuff and that." She points to the paper in Daryl's hands. I stand on my tip toes, peering over his shoulder. "I just figured, if you saw it. Anything remotely medical is a priority. And food, maybe even food before medicine, and gas or batteries or books for the kids or clothes is just-- if you see it, if it just happens to, you know, be right there."

He cocks his head at her, "you like it, right?" He's so cute when he's confused, I muse.

I watch as she shakes her head, "no, I don't drink pop."

"Oh, I miss pop. I was an avid drinker. Caffeine withdrawal is a bitch though. I might face down an army of the dead just for a can of Mountain Dew right about now that I think about it." I giggle at that thought. What can I say? Shit is horrible for you, but so damn good.

"What the hell's pop?" His blue eyes flick between the two of us.

"Oh, I'm originally from Ohio." She shrugs under his questioningly glare.

"It's an Ohio thing." I offer. "Pop is Soda. Soda pop, get it?"

"Right. I think I heard ya something say like that before. Why you want it?" He questions further, trying to process what is reaching his ears.

"Tara was talking about it in her sleep, I think. Either she likes it or she doesn't, but if she likes it, it'd be a really nice surprise. I'm not good with that kind of stuff, and she and Heath are going on that two-week run. I just thought it'd be a nice going-away present. Just, uh, don't go out of your way. And if it gives you any trouble." Denise anxiously chews her lips.

"We got it, no worries. If we find any, I'll protect it with my life." I pat her arm before walking off to meet Rick at the car.

Rick opens the driver's side door, while I jump into the back. I lay down, resting my head against my arm, and blocking the sun with my other. Daryl gets into the passenger seat. I ignore Eugene's long winded words and request before we drive off down the road. I'm just here as a tag along. Rick thought it would be good for me. Daryl mentioned that he missed our little runs.