Chapter Text
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They never told anyone of their arcade date, but Daryl was pretty positive that Michonne and Carl had heard him pushing Rick into the wall, or Rick's R-rated moans. He didn't regret a thing.
Nowadays, Rick and Daryl were nearly inseparable. Daryl made sure his bed had enough room for Rick, he made sure to tell him he loved him, he made sure to kiss him often, he made sure to enjoy everything he had. The group knew now, because of course Glenn had to walk in on them in the showers, thinking that someone had fallen; it couldn't have been any further from the truth, but that didn't mean that something noteworthy didn't happen that day. Rick still had fingerprint shaped bruises on his hip bones, hickies and bite marks on his pale skin.
That's what they did. They stayed content with their relationship, having fun in a world where fun shouldn't exist. Daryl always had Rick smiling (or moaning), and neither of them could've been happier.
So of course, something had to break their streak. Life's a bitch sometimes (most of the time).
The only thing Daryl could remember was Hershel telling him that yeah, Rick should be fine, but it would take a while for that 'fine' to happen. Daryl shouldn't have driven his motorcycle that day, it was plan and simple. He should've rode in the damn car, or something that had a roof.
It had all started with a run, because as a large group, they needed food. Since the couple enjoyed being together, Daryl had opted to take his bike, with Rick terrified and latched onto his back. The hunter assured him they'd be fine, just like the other times they'd gone for rides. Glenn and Michonne drove behind them to carry supplies, laughing all the while as Rick's hair blew crazily, his hands never letting go of his hunter.
It stopped being funny when a deranged deer flew out of nowhere, slamming into the side of the motorcycle. Both men were off the bike within seconds, the vehicle grinding against the road with an excruciating screech of metal on sandpaper-like ground. Daryl went skidding into the asphalt, Rick, on the other hand, went underneath the car.
Michonne hadn't had time to stop once the incident occurred. She felt the SUV's tires hit Rick just as the bile rose in her throat. She slammed on the brakes, knowing full well it was too late. The two of them sprinted from the car, towards a motionless Rick. Daryl hovered over the cop, hands waving frantically.
"Oh my God. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Rick? Rick?!" Daryl shouted, freaking out as he stared at Rick's bloodied body. Glenn crouched by the man as Michonne ran back to the car; they'd need to get him back to the prison somehow. She backed up quickly, tires screeching and the smell of copper and rubber in the air. With the car in position and her head buzzing, Michonne was able to direct the men into carefully lifting Rick into the trunk, flat on his back with his neck straight as possible. They didn't want to cause any more injury.
Daryl muttered little words, probably in an attempt to comfort. It sounded as if he was crying, holding Rick's hand with a gentle caress. Glenn held Rick's head stable as Michonne sped to the prison, hoping and praying that she hadn't just killed one of her dearest friends.
The ride was by far the longest she'd ever been on. Even though they'd only been five minutes from the prison, it seemed as though it'd taken her an hour (just another thing to feel guilty about). She pulled up, thanking Carol for spotting them and speedily opening the gates. She slammed on the pedal, pulling up as close as possible as the others crowded around. Michonne turned off the car just as Glenn popped open the trunk.
Rick laid there as he had before, looking even paler if possible. Blood littered the carpeted back of the car, crimson on grey. Daryl moved quickly, face contorted into one of misery and guilt. Michonne was positive her expression had looked identical.
They carried Rick into the dining area, the place where Daryl fought so hard just to get Rick's attention in the beginning. It was crudely ironic for the entire group, but Hershel didn't mention it as he checked over the wounded cop.
Two hours of stitches, ice, and pain medication later found Daryl right next to the man, their hands loosely intertwined. Daryl was told that Rick had gotten knocked unconscious on the first impact, as he had a piece of paint from the bike etched onto his head. Luckily, that meant he hadn't felt the hit of an SUV, or heard the pathetic cries of Daryl. The hunter thanked God for the little things as he stayed by his boyfriend.
Rick's eyes fluttered open, blue bulbs bright and bloodshot. The hunter had sprang up, grinning brightly, eyes teary. Rick coughed a few times, smile weak and eyes pained as he stared at Daryl.
"Did I ever tell ya how much I hate deer?"
Daryl's laugh reverberated inside the cell, and the hunter kissed Rick's cracked lips, 'to get the blood off'.
~*~