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Daryl knows that everyone thinks he’s the stereotypical stupid, uneducated, dumbass redneck. He can see the way they look at him sometimes when they’re pouring over maps, or when Andrea hands him a book when he’s injured with a silent question and a bit of a smirk. At first he mocks it, asking about there being no pictures and huffing a little when they make assumptions about his education, making sure to use words with more than enough syllables to get them thinking twice. Thing is he ain’t dumb like they all think, sure he weren’t ever the smartest kid in class, but he weren’t the idiot at the bottom always getting bad grades neither.
Thing was it got harder and harder to hide the real problem as the group got smaller. Less people around meant closer quarters and it meant all duties had to be shared. So when he’s grabbing the canned goods for supper and squinting at the label in the dim light he can practically feel Glenn’s laughter before the kid reaches for the item himself, making a scene of reading out the label for him before handing it all out. At first he doesn’t let it bother him, because heck it was just something small and why would he let it bother him at all?
Only thing is it seemed everyone else was in on the joke.
They give him a list of items for a supply run and he’s running through it mentally when he hears Glenn give a chuckle beside him, the kid scuffing at the dirt when he turns to face him and trying to look innocent. Frowning a little he leans against the bike, noting the way Maggie smiles a little as she rechecks her gun and ammo. “What?” He grunts in question, not liking the look when it was directed at him.
Glenn shrugs, stepping closer and reaching out to point at the list, holding out a hand open palmed and looking up at him with that tiny, annoying smile. “Want me to read through it for you?” He offers and Daryl’s about ready to bite that hand off in frustration over the words.
Instead he shakes his head, glancing over the list one last time, holding it a bit away from himself and squinting at the letters before folding it up, tucking it into his pocket for safekeeping on the ride. Sometimes he wished Glenn didn’t have to come and see Maggie off every time they went off. “I can do it myself.” He huffs, moving to check over the bike, keeping his hands busy and his anger bottled over the usual assumption from the group members.
“Daryl we all know you can’t read.” Glenn has the decency to keep his voice low, but it still makes Daryl tense, digging his nails into the seat of the bike to stop from lashing out when he knew it was all a mistake and he could easily fix it if he just opened his mouth and fucking explained. But dammit there’s only so much humiliation he can take and somehow it’s been easier to roll with the stereotype than to admit to the real issue. “Its no big deal. I can help.” Glenn continues and again that hand reaches out for the list and Daryl recoils back a little at the offer.
“Can read just fine.” He tries to explain, wondering exactly how to say what he needs to. They’ve been surviving together for a long time and now they were practically family. Each of them were close and thought they knew each other, so how did he go about explaining that he’d kept something so vital away from them all for so long? They’d be hurt, they’d be sympathetic and damn he’d always hated being pitied.
“You’re always squinting and we can see you sounding out the letters to yourself when you try.” Maggie shrugs. She’s not rude about it, just simply stating facts but shit he hated that it was all so damned obvious. “Not like we mind, but there’s no shame in admitting it Daryl.”
Scoffing a little he pulls back, feeling cornered, wanting to fight back and not being sure how to. Instead he falls back on anger, something he knows, something that will keep them away and let him get away from the conversation he doesn’t want to have. “You know what? Take your damned list if it’s so important to y’all.” He huffs, ripping the thing from his pocket and shoving it at Glenn’s chest, noting the way his friend steps back a little at his anger. “Screw this, go on your own run, I’m out. Probably a good thing to, heck have a little trouble reading and suddenly I might start getting the wrong stuff. Screw y’all.”
Storming away he doesn’t care to look back and see the way they watch him leave. Maggie calling out to him to apologise, Glenn rolling his eyes and remembering how he’d been back at the Atlanta camp before all of this. Heck his temper had settled a lot since finding the prison, but still didn’t mean he liked to be poked and prodded at like some project of theirs to fix.
The cellblock is reasonably empty, the only person he has to walk past is Rick and damn he hates that he wants to stop when the other man asks what the problem is. A hand reaches out for his own, brushing against his fingers, lingering there for a moment before Daryl pulls away, not wanting pity or sympathy and just needing to get away from all of them for a moment. He’s grateful that Rick doesn’t follow, the other man can read him like a book and he’s left alone, slumping in their cell and glaring at the wall and the door closes behind Rick’s exit.
He’s left alone for an hour, which really is more than enough time considering the work that has to be done just for the daily chores around the place. By the time the truck rolls back up to the gates with their returning hunting party, he’s helping Carol prepare dinner and actually willing to apologise to Glenn and Maggie for his childish behaviour earlier. Didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed at them for what they’d said, just meant he knew he shouldn’t have snapped and left Rick to take his place on the run.
Looking up he’s surprised when Glenn and Maggie smile to him as they walk past, hand in hand and shaking their heads when he goes to say something to them. Glenn holds up a hand to him when he tries to apologise, says his own sorrys and mentions about minding his own business. Daryl’s a little surprised but still grateful, wondering exactly what Rick had said to them when they were out there to get such a reaction.
Rick walks up to him with that cocky grin on his face, tossing a few comic books in Carl’s direction and clapping a hand to his kid’s shoulder before moving close enough to brush against his side. They’re not too public with their affections and Daryl’s grateful that Rick knows he don’t need that hassle, but it’s enough and with one look and nod of his head Rick’s got him following towards their cell whilst everyone else leaves them to it.
“Good run?” He asks, leaning in the doorway as Rick goes through his bag of supplies, dragging out batteries, lamps, fuel and one thing he keeps wrapped in an old towel.
“Yeah, went really well. Nice and safe, in and out to get what he wanted.” Rick grins, turning to him and moving closer, close enough to press their lips together for a moment before pulling back with a smile. “And I managed to get you a gift as well.”
Cocking his head to the side he snorts a little, hating that Rick kept focussing on the little things when they had more important things to gather. The man was too damned soft sometimes. “What you waste the time doing that for? I got everything I need right here.” Gesturing to their cell it’s a meagre collection, merely his bow, himself and Rick. But really to him that was all he ever needed, anything else was just extra.
Rick’s still got that goddamned look on his face, that damned glint in his eyes as he drags Daryl around to sit on the edge of their bunk. “No you ain’t and trust me this was more of a necessity than a gift anyhow.” His partner is excited, he can tell and the towel covered gift is only small anyway, so maybe just this once he’d give in and take it without too much protest. “Now, close your eyes.” Rick commands and immediately Daryl is sceptical.
“Why?” Maybe it’s a lifetime of being raised with a bully for an older brother, but usually closing his eyes on request meant getting a ‘nice surprise’. More than likely a punch to the face, and though he trusted Rick a lifetime of training couldn’t be undone so easily. So he’s wary, watching Rick with a raised eyebrow as his partner sighs loudly.
“Humour me Daryl.” Rick scoffs, leaning down to kiss him gently and it’s only because he trusts this man take he does as he’s told. Closing his eyes Daryl clenches his fists in his lap, ready to lash out if need be and making sure to listen closely as Rick unwraps the object. “Okay now they might not be perfect but I figured beggars can’t be choosers and anything was better than nothing right?” Fingers reach out to brush his face, a thumb gently strokes over his cheek when he flinches and holds him steady when something it awkwardly slipped into place for him. “Okay, open your eyes.”
He does as he’s told and opens his eyes, immediately shutting them again at the sudden change in the world around him. The slight weight on his nose is familiar but something long forgotten and despite Rick’s best efforts he has to reach up to adjust the arms that sit on his ears. The glasses are about the same size and shape as his old ones, rectangular frames with plain black frames and the tiny window of lenses are like the opening to a world he’d forgotten.
Before him crouches Rick, but it’s not the Rick he’s used to seeing this up close. Usually Rick was blurry, still the man he trusted with his life, but he was a mass of colours and shapes, lips Daryl had to feel to know properly and eyes that were a streak of blue but not knowing their focus. Nights were spent in the dark and only then did he feel like the odds were evened, because without his glasses Rick had been nothing more than a blur of life and kisses to him before now whenever they were close.
Instead the Rick that sits before him is the Rick he sees in the distance. It’s the Rick that works in the fields with the hard lines creased on his brow and the easy to feel but not see stubble on his cheeks. His eyes are lined, tiny crows feet at the corners, his lips are cracked from the heat and it’s only now that he can see clearly that Daryl can appreciate having this Rick so close to him. The glasses have bought everything into focus for him, and now that Rick he admired from far away was here for him to study completely from eyelash to each hair of growing beard.
“So? They’re okay right?” Rick asks him and Daryl’s not entirely sure how to explain the gift that Rick has given him right now. Instead he reaches up to run a finger over the frames, pushing them up the bridge of his nose and moving to look at every inch of the cell he knows only by touch and familiarity.
Instead he nods in answer, seeing each wrinkle in the sheets, each chip in the brickwork and the way when Rick smiles his teeth catch on his lower lip. “How did you know?” He asks, finding his eyes drawn to everything so familiar and yet so new, reaching to trail his fingers over his newest crossbow and acquainting himself with each join and catch.
“You think I wouldn’t notice?” Rick huffs out a quick laugh, moving from crouching before him to sit beside him and Daryl turns to face him, not wanting to lose a second of this new found gift of sight. “You squint when trying to read, you hold things at an arm’s length as if to bring them into focus and yet you never ever miss a walker with your bow? You could shoot a target at any distance from you right on the bulls-eye, but ask you to read a page and you struggle. You do know I used to be a cop before all of this right? Used to have to work things out for myself, got paid and everything for it.”
Huffing a little he sets the crossbow away, reaching up to feel the glasses again and trying to get used to the light weight upon his face that he’s actually missed. “Alright Mr Detective, full points for realising.”
“How come you never told us you were far-sighted?” Rick asks and a hand comes up to trail over his shoulder, light enough for him to pull away from if he wished but also just right for him to lean into.
So he does with a shrug, letting his own fingers come up to trace over Rick’s shirt, to see the buttons he’s so used to finding with his fingers and the way the fabric stretches over his partner. “Never came up. I could still shoot walkers and when they’re close up it’s pretty easy to figure out to stab the top part. Besides by the time I wanted to tell you all you’d all just kind of assumed I was dumb and couldn’t read.” He snorts, noting how he can almost see Rick’s nipples through the white tee shirt and that he’d never known that before. “Ain’t true at all, I used to love reading, just trying to do it now always gave me such a headache.”
“Well these should help right?” Rick doesn’t stop his exploration, leaning back with a smile as he can’t stop looking him all over, getting to see him all for the first real time and hating how much he’s already missed. “I mean I couldn’t be sure of your prescription, but I figured anything was better than nothing.”
Nodding he slips his hands to Rick’s hips, able to see every stitch on the man’s belt, the way his shirt is tucked into his pants but still creased around the middle and how Rick’s tongue moves out to trace over those dry cracked lips. It’s all the details he’s been missing these past few months, lost in a haze of blurs and guesswork with only his hands and glances for a distance to guide him. Now here he was with his sight back once again, not perfect, still a little blurry and just a little off what he used to have strength wise, but it’s enough and right now it just all felt perfect.
“Yeah, yeah they’re much better Rick.” Shoving the other man down onto their bunk he takes the time to climb on top, marvelling in the way he can see each tooth as Rick grins. He can see the catch of fabric in his fingers and see the way the bed sheets crumple around them and how the sweat clings to the small hairs at Rick’s brow. Daryl can’t get enough of it and in seconds he’s leaning over to kiss his partner, memorising each section of his face, remembering each crease of skin, each bite to his lip, and the way Rick looks when he groans beneath his fingers. It’s everything he’s ever dreamt of having, it’s everything he’s imagined seeing clearly and now it was his for the taking.
Leaning down again the glasses slip down his nose, not perfect but damned near as he reaches up to press them back into place, letting his tongue trail out to lick at the corner of Rick’s mouth. He’s rewarded with a groan as he moves in to kiss, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip and making sure to take his time and reveal every inch of skin beneath Rick’s shirt. Daryl has spent way too long in a world of only having guesswork and touch to go by, and right now he wanted all night to get to know every inch of Rick he could see a lot better. “Thanks Rick.”