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It was late, too fucking late but he finally noticed when he caught the hunter stumbling over a twig on the ground with a snap, loudly enough to startle the buck they'd found. It scuttled off into the bush in no time, leaving the two men in the uncomfortably silent woods. Rick heard the hunter letting out a huff of irritation as he turned his eyes to him. "You okay?"
"What'd ya mean?" Daryl's reply was instant, undeniably bristly. Lifting his gaze up, Daryl stared daggers at the ex-lawman crouching down beside him as he lowered the crossbow roughly. Though Rick was immune to his hot temper, the last thing he wanted was to make the hunter get angry so he spoke in a casual, calm tone with his finger pointing at where the buck had been. "That was not like you." He admitted that it was always him making a noise that would let a prey know their existences and run off during hunting trip, and Daryl had never made a careless mistake like that as far as Rick knew. Never in a thousand years.
Snorting at the words Daryl got himself upright, oddly slowly compared to his usual agility in action. It took Rick just a moment to realize Daryl was going to go deeper into the forest and reach out to grab his bare arm. The hunter jerked away immediately as Rick pushed himself to his feet, facing him, unable to suppress firmness in his voice this time. "It's getting dark. We should go back."
"You should. I will after nailing some more," retorting sharply Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder to show how unbudging his decision to go hunt more was. And as much as Rick admired his toughness and unquestionably strong sense of responsibility, he couldn't withdraw. Not now. It was clear as day Rick had gotten more and more protective toward a member of his group, his family, especially the man in front of him was priority and Rick had even grown possessiveness over him since they'd gotten into a more intimate relationship.
"No, you go back with me. I'm not gonna leave you alone here," an influential step Rick took made Daryl's body tense visibly, hand fisting tightly on the strap of his crossbow, knuckles white. He dared to growl with his eyes locked on Rick's, though. "We need something to eat. Your kids need."
It was Rick's weak point that he couldn't slough off because it was a simple fact. They were thrown on the road again, there was no way they could stay at the church and hospital where the smell of unavoidable, unforgettable death had pervaded already, and they were forced to wander about the severe, bloody world again without mercy. They didn't have much stuff, after being disarmed and deprived at Terminus, and it was undoubtedly necessary for them to look for any quick-fix foods. So Rick volunteered to be a partner of his hunting after clearing the abandoned bungalow to take shelter for the night. But it was not just for procuring something to eat. Rick following Daryl was also for making sure they would come back together, safely.
Daryl didn't bother to give Rick more time to try again and turned away quickly, which snapped him out of his thought. "Daryl, wait—," as soon as he grasped the hunter's shoulder to stop him, he heard Daryl hissing in pain. It astounded the ex-officer and he immediately took his hand off the shoulder covered by the layers of the shirt and vest. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to hurt you."
"Ya didn't," Daryl's voice sounded tired as he lolled against the trunk of the tree with a quiet sigh. "Fell off the bridge and got hit good."
"What? When?"
"When I was in the van with Carol, to find where they...," Daryl trailed off, biting his lower lip with his eyes downcast. More words weren't needed, not between them and Rick closed the distance separating them, hand coming up to cup Daryl's cheek gently. The hunter didn't pull away this time, but didn't allow himself to be coddled by Rick's touch either judging from how stiff his body was. The subject was still too agonizing, too raw to handle in this moment so Rick got back to talking about the injury instead, letting his hand go down, along the sensitive column of the neck until it rested on the crook between his neck and shoulder. "Is it bad?"
"Nah, 's just a slight bruise," Daryl gave an indifferent shrug and the motion caused the long locks of his hair covering half of his face to slide away, exposing his black eye. It looked awful, so painful. The sight made Rick wince, reminding him of how badly Daryl had been beaten up by the thugs, manhandled at Terminus, and assaulted by the cop. Rick's eyes were easily drawn to the fingertip shaped bruises standing out against his pale neck, getting darker over time, which ignited Rick's urge to bite him, mark him to clearly state where he belonged.
"Let me see, take your clothes off," he demanded softly, looking into Daryl's light blue eyes as a frown on his face turned into a smirk. "You want me to strip here, Officer?" And that guiltless teasing repartee notified Rick of something unwelcome. His tone was a bit harsh, brows knitted in concern. "Isn't there just one?"
Daryl's eyes slightly widened then he looked away like he was ashamed of himself or something, slumping exhaustedly against the tree. "Ain't nothing you need to care."
Rick wanted to say no, to verbalize how much anything about him meant to him, but neither of them were the kind of man who was a fan of chitchat. What he had to say was just a really little thing anyway.
"I need you, Daryl." And it was Daryl's weak point that he couldn't ignore or pretend that it didn't exist. "Let's go back. Okay?"
Instead of nodding the hunter turned his gaze back on Rick's honest eyes and took a hold of his collars, pulling his body flat against himself to crush his lips to his with intensity. Rick's moan sounded incredibly sweet in his mouth as his hands held Daryl's hips, pinning them against the tree, caressing them in a teasing but loving way. Daryl shivered at the touch, nipping roughly Rick's full, lower lip with his thin ones, eager for more until a strangled gasp escaped him because of the rude thrust between his legs. Heat engulfed both of them and though they couldn't help but feel how much turned on they were, they knew there was no way they could carry on, not here, not now. Reluctantly, Rick tore himself away from the his beloved body, grabbing Daryl's wrists tenderly to pull him to his feet. They had to go back where their family was waiting for them.
On the way back Rick noticed Daryl staggered, lost his balance a few times but he knew him better than to point it out or make a big fuss over it, so he just slacked his pace to keep the hunter in his peripheral vision. Despite the effort, he was all too aware that Daryl failed to keep up a pace, lagging behind more and more, seeming to have trouble catching his breath. It was strikingly unlikely since Daryl was the one who was the most conversant with how to walk around in the woods as instinctively as know how to breathe, like a feral child raised by wolves. And in less than several minutes, Rick looked over his shoulder and found Daryl limply leaning against a trunk, wasting no time in running to his side. He tried to peer at him but Daryl was burying his face into his arm, another hanging loosely to the side of his body. Nonetheless Rick could tell from a glimpse how wan his complexion was, which twisted his chest badly.
He began to think Daryl's injury was worse than first expected, probably worse than Daryl himself thought, and worry and fear overwhelmed him to the point he couldn't avoid letting genuine uneasiness flicker across his face. "You all right? Need help?"
"'M fine, just feeling dizzy, is all," wheezing out Daryl lifted his face from his arm but didn't make eye contact with Rick. Long, wispy strands were plastered to his forehead and cheek messily, eyes watery, breath ragged. He looked terrible, worn out, and suddenly Rick wondered how much the hunter had slept and eaten since they had reunited on the road a few nights ago, hoping there had been time to do so when he'd been alone with Carol.
The abrupt rustling of leaves and twigs pulled his attention from his thoughts, his head snapping up. There were two walkers wobbling, snarling, murky eyes boring into them with hunger. Immediately Rick's hand pulled his knife out and gripped on it tightly as he gave Daryl a solid, reassuring squeeze on his shoulder without removing his eyes from the walkers. "Stay here."
Rick moved swiftly, closing in on the male walker ahead of the other until he could smell the strong foul odor from it. He plunged his knife into the walker's skull, then lunged at the body with all his strength to shove it down to the ground, involving the female walker behind the male. Both of their heads squashed on the some rocks on the ground, turning into pulpy mess, completely motionless. With a short sigh Rick planted his hand on the dirt as he looked back to check on Daryl and that was when he heard a faint growl coming from up close.
Instinctively he got out of the way and fell on his butt when a walker who had been a little girl bolted out of the bush with those filthy teeth chattering, impatient to devour him. It was horrible, took his breath away for some reasons that could be sentimental. He couldn't move. It was not like he wanted to get bitten, of course not but he didn't take his knife back in his hand, not whipping out his gun either, just watching the little walker dashing toward him to end his life.
It was right in front of his eyes when the bolt penetrated its head and caused an instant stop. Rick saw the skinny body collapsing to the ground like a rag doll, and lifted his gaze up to the hunter lowering his crossbow and standing there. He was unsteady on his feet, ready to fall down at any moment, but still holding on. And his eyes were blazing so brightly those colors were limpid. He looked almost angry. Or hurt. "We gonna go back or stay here and be food for all walkers?"
Rick walked through the trees watching Daryl's back from behind, wondering if those walkers they had left there had been a family once. The image of the little body collapsing stuck in his mind, and he instead tried to focus on the angel wings on the leather smoothly waving in a way that reminded him of how the muscles and scarred skin of his back would undulate under his touch. Daryl shambled a bit, though his shoulders tensed up stubbornly, alert for signs of enemies, the tiredness in his face concealed by his resolve, absolute determination as if to declare that he was good, could take care of himself and his leader so everyone needed to back off. Rick knew that it was a defensive instinct formed by his experience. He would bark at you, make you keep your distance from him, and go alone because it had been the way he had protected himself from the world before the turn. The only way maybe.
And Rick knew once back where their family was waiting he would take the edge off the hunter's tension and pain, make sure to have him get something to fill his stomach, tuck him into bed and wrap his own arms around the timid, bruised body, no matter how hard it would be.