Work Text:
Connie awoke with a swift breeze that swept through the open shelter and rocked the hammock she slept in gently. The morning was warm, and she could feel her cheeks heat slightly as the air moved across her face. Eyes still closed, she breathed in the smell of the ocean, salty and fresh. She would miss waking up like this every morning, the first few moments of the day at Oceanside reviving pleasant memories of beach vacations from childhood.
She opened her eyes slowly, her vision revealing the thatched roof above her. She sat up, moving her neck and shoulders to get the kinks out of her muscles that occurred during her sleep. She looked over at Kelly, who slept buried in the fabric of the hammock next to her. Her face was barely visible, shielded by the arm she draped over her eyes, trying to keep the light out as long as possible. Kelly had been excited about the prospect of using the hammocks when Rachel had offered them up, and seeing her sister bouncing up and down at the idea made Connie give in immediately. Kelly had been right, sleeping in the open air shelter with the easy sway of the hammock in the breeze had given her the “good vibes” the younger women had promised. The gentle rocking lulled her into a dreamless, heavy sleep, one of the best she had had in a long time. Moving her feet over the side, she bent down to retrieve her boots from the ground. She put them on, only slightly irritated at having to shield her feet from the feeling of the fine sand between her toes.
She looked around the community as she laced and tied her shoes. It was early, still very quiet as other slowly started to awaken. A perimeter watch group came into her line of sight, looking tired and ready to fall into bed. Luke trudged with them, skin already tanning from the few days they had spent training on the beach. She caught his eye and he sent a wave her way, smiling in that way that always managed to comfort her. She waved back, and watched him disappear back into the group. A few others moved around quietly, starting cooking fires and going toward the docks and beach to begin fishing for the day. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was looking for someone in particular. She scanned the environment, looking for his black shirt and patched up pants or the mop of dark hair on his head. It ended up being Dog who gave his location away as he entered the outdoor kitchen. She felt herself standing before she could think about it, and walking toward the pair.
Connie and Daryl’s relationship had grown steadily since the fair. They went through that winter and spring with brief stays of a day or two of her at Alexandria or him at Hilltop. Together they would go hunt in the early morning or at dusk, Daryl once telling her she was the only one he could stand to take. Sometimes they would share a meal, passing notes all the while. Daryl would tell her about Lydia, or Judith and RJ’s antics and she would tell him about Kelly. Then sometimes they talked about little things from their lives before. She told him how much she loved vanilla candles and cinnamon lattes, enjoying the deadpan, gentle teasing he had given in response. He asked her during one of their meetings, right when the snow started to melt, to teach him sign. She agreed. The next time he returned to Hilltop for a supply drop, he had found an ASL reference book and a small bottle of vanilla. The feeling that erupted in the pit of her belly when he presented them could have only been described as butterflies.
She smiled at the memory as she approached him from behind. Dog saw her and immediately ran, hopping up on her legs and begging for affection. Daryl turned around once Dog had moved, and gave her a small smile when he saw her. Those sweet smiles, Connie had come to discover, were rare. Reserved almost solely for Judith, RJ, Michonne, Carol, and apparently her. She could feel her heart beat slightly faster in her chest as she returned his smile and patted Dog’s head.
She thought to herself what she always did when this happened, that Daryl was attractive in a “bad boy kind of way”, as Luke had once drunkenly described to her. At the time it had left her and Yumiko laughing and her slightly red faced, because she knew that he was . Broad shouldered and tattooed, that long dark hair that hid his face, the vest and the motorcycle he rode. She would have eaten that up when she was younger, but not now. Not in the years leading up to the turn. She had found his quiet and gruff demeanor intriguing though, and Connie quickly discovered a different man, serious and concerned but also kind and incredibly sweet. He was dedicated to learning sign, attentive and willing to practice. He seemed to enjoy their conversations and the time they spent alone, a thought which gave her a glimmer of hope and allowed her to give into her attraction to him.
“Hi ” he signed. She could see him trying to think of the correct signs for the next phrase, “Sleep okay ?”
She nodded, “Kelly wanted to sleep in the,” she paused grabbing her notebook and writing the word. She showed it to him, “Hammock”.
He saw his shoulders shake a little as his lips quirked into a smile, telling her that he must have chuckled at the note. She could feel the smile on her own face grow at his reaction.
“I was, uh” he paused again, trying to form the correct shapes with his hands, “Go to the beach” . He paused, and looked from his hands to her hesitantly. He dropped his hands and spoke clearly so she could see his lips, “Want to come? I have,” He quickly reached behind him and grabbed the small burlap sack, and signed, “Breakfast ” and pointed to it.
She nodded, and his face seemed to relax somewhat. She saw him hit his thigh, signaling to Dog that they were going to start moving. They walked toward the path that would lead them to the shore. Dog ran ahead of them, no doubt going to play in the waves. The sun was out, a few wispy clouds rounded out the deep blue morning sky. She could see the water from their position, getting closer with every step. She glanced at Daryl out of the corner of her eye. He looked toward the shore, a distance in his eye, like he was lost in thought. Connie could see the scar on his eye seemed to be more prominent now that his face had been burned and tanned over in the harsh sun. He must have felt her eyes on him as she saw him turn his head slightly to look at her. She didn’t avert her gaze, instead smiling at him in return. She looked back toward the shore, knowing that there was a chance he could see the faint blush on her features but not really caring.
The sand got more uneven and bumpy as they approached the beach entrance to the shore Oceanside had marked. Connie felt their arms brush and she became more aware of their increasing proximity. The two played this game with ease now. Who would break the lingering ? Who would initiate those brief gentle touches? It was a back and forth that led her to consider that her growing feelings were not entirely one sided. And so she knew what the scene must have looked like to anyone who happened to see them from afar. In another life, this would have been romantic, a date she would have dreamed of; an early morning walk on the beach on a clear, warm, morning. But the feeling of her knife against her thigh, the thin sheet of grime on her face, and the pile of dead walkers not too far away, maintained her actual reality. Daryl was still next to her though, and that was good enough.
They started down the shoreline, Dog running alongside them and splashing into oncoming waves. She laughed silently as one of the waves knocked him over, leading him into a roll across the wet sand. Dog ran to her, like a child looking for comfort, and Connie knelt to meet him. She patted his wet fur as he nuzzled at her neck. The water dripping of him made her tank top damp and his nose left a wet spot on her cheek. The animal had taken a liking to her, following her around whenever she was near and trying to cuddle up to her every chance he got. Daryl must have said something because the animal looked up at him with a look of sadness before turning back toward the water and sprinting away. Connie stood back up and turned to him.
“Sorry,” Daryl signed, “I think he’s attached to you”.
Connie shrugged in response with a small smile. She had grown attached to him too, both of them if she was being honest. Brushing the sand off her top and pants, she stood up. “Come on,” he said, and tilted his head towards one of the large pieces of driftwood on the beach.
The wood was higher off the ground than she expected, and when she shimmed her way on to it to sit, her feet barely grazed the ground. Daryl sat next to her, noticeably closer than necessary. He opened the sack he had been holding and set it between them. Connie looked down to see it filled with a mix of nuts, dried fruits, and some oat pieces. He gestured at the bag, offering for her to take some first. She smiled, and took a handful.
“Thank you” she signed to him, then popping a peanut into her mouth. He nodded at her as he grabbed his own handful dropped some of it in his mouth.
The breeze from the ocean was stronger now that she was out in the open. It moved the curls that hung around her face, tickling the skin there. She watched Daryl as he watched Dog. His jaw was clenched and she could see grey facial hair that ran across his cheeks and chin. The wind moving his overgrown bangs out of his face, revealing his eyes. She didn’t often notice them, her eyes often focused on his mouth. But she could see now in the bright morning sun, made even brighter by the water, how deep blue they were. Connie wondered why he hid them so often, often purposefully flicking his bangs in his face. She wished he wouldn’t. She pulled out her notebook and started writing, she saw Daryl look over her shoulder out of the corner of her eye.
She finished and showed it to him, Had you ever been to the beach before all of this?
He nodded, “One time,” he signed. He took her notebook and started scribbling down a response. He stuck the tip of his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated on quickly getting the words down. The image made Connie smile. He stopped writing and reread his note before handing the notebook back to her.
“My brother brought me when we were kids, he was seeing some girl. Left me on the beach while he saw her” She smiled at the note and looked at him.
She saw his lips move, “Spent the whole time building a sandcastle,” he said, the distant look returning to his eyes. She could tell he wanted to say something but he hesitated. She tilted her head slightly, silently encouraging him. He nodded toward her, “You?”
“My mom and dad brought us every summer,” she signed slowly and precisely, making sure he could see all the signs. He nodded when she finished.
The trips had been a normal occurrence for as long as she could remember, even once she had moved out of the house. Her parents would rent a small beach house off the coast somewhere in the Carolinas for a week or two, and all four of them would go to the shore. And even though she was older, she would always go with Kelly out into the waves, body surfing back to shore or throwing each other into the water. Their father, always a planner and insufferably meticulous, would lead them in building extravagant sandcastles on the shore in the evening. She remembered how, even as an adult, she would lean against her mother as they sat on a porch swing, looking out onto the ocean late at night. The last trip, before the turn, her parents were out on a “date night”, leaving them to their own devices and, in trying to live up to the “cool big sister” dreams her sister had for her, had indulged the then high school Kelly in every activity her sister wanted to do. They giggled on the deck that night for hours, and the memory of it left her with a longing for normalcy that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Daryl nudged her arm and she remembered where she was now, on some beach in Virginia, miles away from her childhood memories.
“Your favorite.” he paused. She waited while he thought about the next sign, eventually giving up and fingerspelling, “t-h-i-n-g ?” she nodded but he paused again. He looked frustrated as he reached for the note pad again.
She handed it to him then placed a hand on his arm. He looked at her, frustration evident in his features. She signed, You are learning,” and gave a reassuring smile to him.
He looked away from her gaze and started writing again. She took another handful of their breakfast. Daryl was actually a great student. His ability to catch onto signing so quickly had surprised her, and his dedication made her fondness for him grow. She looked forward to the intermittent lessons that had occurred in the spring. They would sit at a picnic table at Hilltop or Alexandria, Daryl with the small pocket ASL guides he had managed to find and her with one of the larger notebooks she had. She wrote him notes on sentence structure and facial expression, gave him words that he couldn’t find in his books, and corrected his signs. He got frustrated when he struggled, no matter how many times Connie reassured him that he was doing fine because, as he told her on one occasion, it was important that he “get it”. She didn’t ask him why.
He handed her the notebook and she read his scrawl, What was your favorite thing about your trips?
She stuck her hand out for the marker, knowing what she would write immediately. Her mother used to take her and Kelly for morning walks down the beach to collect shells. She would spend hours trying to find the best ones, with no chips or discoloration, and would take them home with her. The most coveted for the women though was a whole sand dollar. She could think of the box in her apartment that held the shells and her sand dollars. It may still be there, sitting on the shelf in her living room nestled between books and covered with dust. She wrote out the memory in shorthand for Daryl on the notepad. She could feel him looking over her shoulder, watching her hand as it moved the pen across the page. She showed it to him when she was done, and he looked at her, giving a small smile in understanding. There it was again, that soft, close lipped smile. She met his eyes and he didn’t turn away, instead holding her gaze and the smile on his face. Some small voice deep in the back of her head whispered to lean in and kiss him. Dog barking drowned the voice out.
They both looked up to him bounding toward them with something white hanging from his mouth. He came and sat in front of Daryl, dropping the dead seagull at his feet and sitting back on his legs with a look of innocence. Connie laughed, and Daryl shook his head at his companion. He kicked the dead seagull at him and said something, and Dog took it and ran off.
He looked at Connie and signed, “Bad dog.” Connie felt herself laugh again. He looked at her with a smirk, seemingly enjoying the fact that he had elicited that response from her. She looked away, sticking her hand back in the bag to grab more of their breakfast. They sat like that for awhile, watching Dog and the fisherman now on the dock, preparing to go out for the day. They had migrated closer again, her shoulder brushing his as she shifted in her seat. She enjoyed the peaceful breakfast with his presence by her side. If she was honest with herself, she enjoyed most moments that they spent together. Connie had considered bringing up whatever it was the two were doing, addressing their awkward dance. She thought it better that she didn’t.
The air was quickly getting warmer now, the sun moving higher in the sky, she knew they needed to head back soon. As if reading her mind, Connie felt Daryl nudge her side with his elbow. She looked to his lips, chapped from the heat and sun.
“We should go back,” he said. She nodded in response, a pang of disappointment shot in her chest.
They got off the piece of driftwood and Dog came running back to them, falling in step next to Daryl. Their pace was slow but she didn’t mind, willing to take any additional moment she could get with him. The docks came into site far ahead, now bustling with people. She could smell the smoke from the fires that must have been lit. The quiet and stillness of their morning was coming to an end around then.
She noticed Daryl was no longer at her side a few steps ahead of where he had stopped. She turned and saw him bending over, in the shallowest part of the water, hands freeing the white object peeking out from the sand. Dog went over and watched him, as if investigating. Daryl pulled the object out, and Connie felt her chest rise as she sucked in a breath. Daryl held the fully formed sand dollar in his hand, rinsing the sand off and wiping it with his thumb. He pulled it out of the water and looked up at Connie before standing back up. He walked toward her and hesitantly held out the disk. His bangs had fallen in his face again, hiding his eyes.
She took it from his hand, her fingertips brushing the palm of his hand, "Thank you ”
The corners of his mouth flicked into a smile as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He nodded at her in response, immediately bringing his thumb to his mouth to chew on the skin around the nail. She looked away from him and to the item in her hand. She rubbed her finger over the star design, thinking of her mother.
He gently touched her arm, “ Going to talk to Aaron ” he signed and gestured to the docks. She could see the man making his way to the dock beyond where they stood.
She nodded and held up a finger for him to wait. She grabbed her notebook out of the case on her waist, and gently slid Daryl’s gift in it’s spot. She wrote her message,
Thank you for inviting me. We should do it again tomorrow.
He read it, and she could see his lips muttering something. His face flushed as he looked at her, a shyness overtaking his body. He waved a goodbye before quickly spinning on his heels and heading in the opposite direction. Dog chased after him and she watched them both go. She put the notebook back onto her bag, leaving her hand in the compartment so that she could run her fingers over the sand dollar again. She smiled at the texture under her fingers and went back to Oceanside, ready to start her collection over again.