Daryl finds a bottle of whiskey and he gets a bit honest.
- Daryl Dixon x Reader
- 977 words
- No warnings
“Where’s Daryl?” You ask Beth, who is trying her best to rock Judith to sleep.
Beth nods toward the doors without looking up, watching Judith close her sweet little eyes. “I suppose he’s outside.” She said in her long, country drawl. She turns and bounces the baby, humming a lullaby.
You can’t imagine Daryl being outside, not on a day like today. After his last hunt, he ended up bruising his side to hell, though he wouldn’t tell anyone how he did it, if he knew himself. And today was a slow day, a day when many of the prison residents were sitting inside, catching up on each other, reading, anything to keep from walking out in the heat.
Rick strides by with Carl just at his heel , wide grins spread across their cheeks as they try to walk inside. A small giggle escapes Carl’s cracked lips.
“Lookin’ for Daryl?” Rick guesses, pressing his hand to Carl’s shoulder and giving him a little shove through the doors. “He was about to go out the gates. Haven’t seen him leave yet.”
You nod a thanks to the sheriff and take off to the trucks, knowing Daryl would be wherever his brother’s bike was.
To be honest, you had no reason to see Daryl today. The two of you hardly ever cross paths anymore, what with him recruiting people left and right and helping them settle into new cells. You had no set job, not with the lack of skills you had, but they would send you wherever they need you; cooking, cleaning, care, supply runs, anything they thought you could handle.
Not that it matters. You were just happy to help out, happy to have a home. It was Daryl that saved you after all. He found you in the streets, starved and dehydrated. Sleeping in a box because you didn’t have the tools or strength to break into a building. He was your hero.
Once he brought you back to the prison, you assumed things would fall into place. You would be working beside Daryl, helping him with what he needed and slowly the two of you would be together. But that was all just childish and not realistic whatsoever. These were tough times. There was no falling in love anymore, just survival.
In the midst of the cars and trucks, you found Daryl’s bike. A bag was sitting on top of it, ready to roll. However, Daryl was not there.
“Daryl?” You whisper.
“Mmm-mm.” The low growl came from a few cars down. You walk between an old Mustang and a Ford truck to see the redneck folded on the ground, half a whiskey bottle in hand.
You bend your knees and steady yourself with the truck he was leaning against, lowering yourself to his level to see the redness in his eyes. “What the…”
Daryl looks up, the waves of the ocean watching you curiously. You never knew he had such beautiful blue eyes, not until this very moment while they were wide and peering up at you. “Y/N…” He growls. “You—“ his body tenses, he steals the whiskey bottle back up before he drops it on the ground and tries to get up with a grunt.
“Calm down!” You lift your hand, settling it on his right shoulder to keep him from standing. “Are you alright?” You ask hurriedly.
“No.” Daryl grunts, his lips now turned down and his eyes shut. “No, no, go away.”
It feels like somebody just grasped your heart and gave it a firm squeeze. “You’re drunk. Let’s get you inside before one of the kids sees you like this.” You stand on your feet and try to pull the much larger man out of the dirt, though it was no use at this point.
“I can’t be what you want!” Daryl snaps at you, yanking his arm back and slapping it against his chest. “I ain’t no James Bond.”
“What are you yapping about…?” You watch him hug his knees to his chest and start rocking back and forth. It’s a sight that you didn’t think you could watch. Since you have known him, he’s never looked like this.
His face was growing with heat and he shook his head violently. “I ain’t no prince charming. Merle and my daddy, they made sure…”
You drop to your knees in front of the man. “I don’t want a prince charming or a James Bond.” You say softly, trying to understand where this was coming from. He never once showed you an ounce of attention, not the kind of personal attention you need. “Those types of men are never perfect. The fact that they pretend to be means they aren’t.”
Stars start appearing in the sky as it changes into a colorful orange cocktail. The stars lit up the world below and seem to make things a little clearer than the sun had. It was peaceful, cooler.
The orange fades out of the sky, draining out until it’s dark all around, except for the moon and stars. You breathe in the cool air, filling your lungs and your mind. When you let it out, you feel better, like weight was blown away with the breeze.
Daryl lifts his head and looks at you, his eyes swollen and his bottom lip trembling. His mind must be racing with all sorts of questions that you weren’t sure you could answer.
You lean over and kiss his cheek. He flinches but doesn’t move away. You take that as a good sign and you do what you never thought was possible. You lean across his knees and press your lips to his, making the first move on a guy you had a crush on for the very first time in your short life.
Daryl hesitates, leaning into the kiss before he kisses back.