Chapter Text
It’d been two days since Glenn and Daryl had gone on that run.
You weren’t really worried that it was taking this long. The Alexandrians had raided every place within a one day trip before you’d arrived. No, you were more pissed that they left you behind.
Before you and the group had reached Alexandria, you were Daryl’s partner for runs. It’d been that way since he’d saved you back when the group was still in the prison. Back then the fact that you were a resident before all of this had happened didn’t matter.
Well, no, it did matter. But it wasn’t a reason to leave you behind.
There hadn’t been enough people to shelter you. And you were thankful for it. Without you needing to go out every other day, you’d still be the helpless medic who couldn’t even clean a gun. And you wouldn’t have become close to Daryl.
Sure you’d managed to stay alive until he found you but Daryl truly taught you how to survive. How to track and hunt. How to use and clean a weapon. He’d even let you use his crossbow a few times.
Which was why it only hurt more when you heard him utter those words.
“Ya ain’t comin’ on the run,” he’d said, not even looking at you. “Got infirmary duty from now on.”
Infirmary duty. Bullshit. More like taking care of boo boos and playing housewives.
God it’d been ages since you’d killed a walker and you were starting to miss it, miss going outside. Getting alone time with him. Although that part you would never admit to anyone.
All you’d done in the last two days was patch up a bloody knee. No wonder that place was running low on infirmary supplies. People came in for the smallest shit.
That and fixing the archer’s dumb angel jacket.
Carol had thrown it you way with a “you know how to sew right?” before leaving you with it. Sure you knew how to sew. You knew how to sew up PEOPLE. Not clothes. Never thought you’d need to say it but not the same.
After pricking your finger with the needle for the tenth time in an hour you felt your anger bubbling out of you and couldn’t restrain the shout that came out of you.
“PUTAIN DE VESTE DE MERDE !” Fucking shit jacket!
It’d been a while since your mother tongue had taken over without you noticing. That was truly a testament to how pissed you were. And now that you’d started you just couldn’t stop.
“Connard avec ses ailes et ses putains de bras et ses yeux trop bleus. Argh! ” Asshole with his wings and his arms and his too blue eyes.
You balled up the vest and threw it on the side of the couch you were sitting on before lying back, throwing your arm over your eyes. You tried to calm down, control your anger, the frustration you were feeling over being stuck here.
“Oublie pas mon sourire.”
“Fucking hell, Dixon!” If you’d been tensed before it was nothing compared to now. The sneaky bastard made you jump out of your skin. “You scared the shit out of me!”
While you were trying to will your heart to slow down, Daryl walked in and grabbed his jacket, putting it back on despite the work being only half done. The way his arms flexed while doing so, god it wasn’t normal.
Then you caught the slight smirk he wore on his lips while shouldering his crossbow back on his shoulder, arm still flexed. Only then did your tired brain connect all the dots.
“Wait! You speak French?!"
You heard his chuckle but Daryl was already gone.
Putain d'archer.