Chapter Text
Daryl Dixon was tough, he was cold, he was stubborn.
He's almost silent as he walks through the trees, the only sounds seemingly coming from the nature around him. Bird squarks and distant thumping from moving rabbits, hopefully coming his way if he's lucky. Though when has luck ever taken his side.
Daryl Dixon was rude, he was mean, and he wasn't patient in the slightest.
There's a slight crunch that comes from the fallen leaves beneath him but nothing he's all too concerned about. He listens out for something, anything he can take back to the others. A small flock of birds all fly away from a tree not too far from him, distracting him just a little bit until he hears the distinct sound of a small animal rustling around, just up ahead.
Daryl Dixon was not soft, nor sweet, and certainly the opposite of childish.
He takes in a shallow breath, quickly but precisely lining up his crossbow with practised ease. He stares down at the animal for only a second before firing his arrow. He tries not to let out a relieved breath at the sight of the hit target, this should be routine by now, it is routine by now. He's dreading the time he really misses his shot, even if there's no one around right now to see the failure, had it occurred.
Daryl Dixon is anxious, he is scared, he is alone.
Allowing a bit more weight in his steps, Daryl swiftly walks over to the rabbit, ripping the arrow out and putting the animal in his bag, where two others of similar size lay. It's not much in respect to their group, with how many of them there are, and how much (or little) food they have. Though it is something, and something Daryl is going to be damn happy about because this is almost as good as it can get right now. After spending the day out here he's quietly happy to come back with anything. He's sure the group will look at this like he's brought back a buffet when he returns.
Though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he's a little bit thankful when he reaches the road. Sure he has spent a good chunk of his life out in the forest, surrounded by trees and birds and animals. Everything he needs. Away from everybody else. Or atleast away from who 'everybody else' referred to when you're Daryl Dixon. It usually brought Daryl a great sense of peace to be out there, with no one but himself. So that maybe he can just be himself for a moment of his life.
Now he doesn't quite feel the same way. The woods don't feel the same anymore and Daryl really can't stand that. He used to feel in control out there.
Maybe that's why he loved it so much, because it was the only place he felt in control.
Now you never know which corner, or tree, a threat is hiding behind. With walkers everywhere, the trees only serve as a nightmarish maze. That and ofcourse the recent events of Sophia's death.
Daryl subconsciously shudders as he quickens up his pace towards the street the group was holding up in tonight, now he really didn't think he could stand another second out here. Alone.
By the time he's standing outside the right house he's sure he's worked himself up into a panic attack or something of that nature, regardless of seeming completely grounded on the outside. After all, this ofcourse isn't Daryl's first time hiding his emotions. He's trained for this, he knows how to be a person he needs to be.
Tough. Cold. Stubborn.
He knows how to protect himself, in all the ways that matter.
That doesn't stop the feeling of panic clawing up his throat, nor the dizzying spinning in his head, his heart is pounding, it feels like it's the only thing he can hear and god he's going to pass out. He's going to pass out. He's going to pass out.
Tough. Cold. Stubborn.
Tough. Cold. Stubborn.
Tough. Cold. Stubborn.
He needs to see someone. Someone in his group, all of his group. He doesn't care, even the people who annoy him because atleast he'd feel even just a bit better about himself.
Hell he'd deal with Lori right now, awkward, palpable tension and all, he couldn't give a shit he just desperately doesn't want to be alone right now.
Sometimes an awful side affect of being trained to not let your real emotions show, was having your body move so confidently slow. He was walking closer to the house, making sure not to hurry too much, just incase someone was watching him from inside. God he was moving so fucking slow. He felt trapped inside his own body. He hears a bird call close by and almost jumps. Not very Daryl Dixon of him to do that. That wasn't who he was.
Tough. Cold. Stubborn.
He takes the steps onto the patio with a slight bounce, hopeful no one saw, simply because it would be a little embarrassing but overall he couldn't really care less about that right now.
Latching onto the door handle with shaking hands, Daryl swings the door open, careful to close it with as little sound as possible.
His boots make a distinct sound on the hard wood floor boards as he shuffles towards the open spaced living room, where everyone had decided to settle down. Maybe for survival, maybe for heat, maybe just for the close contact of another person you trusted. Whatever it was Daryl stayed just outside of it. On the cusp of closeness at most.
No one was saying anything, so there wasn't that kind of noise, but Daryl felt abundantly calmer the second he closed the door. Sometimes he swears a person's presence can almost make sound, regardless of if they're doing anything.
He rounds the corner only to be met with his whole group and an extremely dull and depressing atmosphere. That is ofcourse until he sees Daryl.
He being Rick. Ofcourse.
Rick glances up from his place sitting on the floor with Carl. He doesn't beam at him but Daryl thinks it's probably the closest you could get to it, considering the circumstances.
He turns back to Carl, muttering something Daryl could hear if he tuned in a bit to the conversation but Daryl already feels so far removed from reality and honestly just wants to sleep. So instead of working out context clues, he leans against the door frame, bag and bow on shoulder, and stares down at his hands, where his fingers fiddle and pick at each other.
"Hey" Rick breathes out, right next to him, startling Daryl a little too visibly because Rick does that half amused half concerned smile he has and Daryl wants to actually be swallowed by the ground. He's made it all day, he will never forgive himself if he gets all vulnerable and shit now.
"Mhm" Daryl replies. Or something. He doesn't actually really know how this conversation is going to go because he really has no idea what's coming out of his mouth.
Rick looks at Daryl a little expectantly but hey, Daryl only just decided against looking for context clues and his brain hasn't really caught up to what he should be doing yet.
Rick clears his throat a little, "Did you get anything?"
Daryl relishes just a little bit in the way every word is soft spoken, though he knows it's just due to circumstance, he doesn't want to disrupt the silent atmosphere, that was all. Get it together Dixon. God he hopes he isn't making this awkward as all hell.
"Mm" He hums out before he half short circuits and realises he should be contributing to this conversation because he actually does have something to show.
He pulls the bag off his shoulder and hands it off to Rick for the moment.
"Three rabbits. They're not big but I thought it was alright."
Rick takes a quick glance over the small animals in the bag, speaking to Daryl as he's examining.
"More than alright, Daryl, this is great" He looks back up at Daryl, "Thankyou". The sincere voice never fails to catch him off guard and make him want to roll his eyes.
Over the short course of however long Daryl has known Rick, he's figured out that the man is pretty fond of eye contact. Which is fine. If you're not Daryl. He's also figured out that Rick is incredibly appreciative. Of everything.
Daryl hums again, dropping his head back down and going back to the familiar rhythm of picking at his nails.
"I mean it-"
Really by now Rick should know not to push too far.
Daryl grabs the bag again and walks away from Rick, mumbling over his shoulder about getting them cooked. After all, people were hungry.
———————————————————————
It's late. He isn't sure how late and he doesn't really care. He knows it's late though, he can feel the exhaustion deep in his bones, not looking to go away anytime soon.
The rabbits had been good, everyone seemed to be quite pleased with it and as thankful as they always get when Daryl brings back anything. It's a weird feeling. It is weird. He isn't quite sure he likes it.
(He decides not to think about how he definetely doesn't dislike it.)
The quiet of the house isn't a creepy kind now, not when it's full of his group sleeping somewhat soundly. He can't hear anything outside either, which is definitely a good sign, though he knows it won't be long before they move again. You can't stop for long when you're living like this.
He'd been practically asleep the entire time they were eating, and after. He was so exhausted, in every way. All he wanted was to sleep, if only for a few hours. He'd literally take anything right now.
Alas, right after they'd eaten, Rick had come walking towards Daryl, presumably to talk about night shifts and probably more than willing to let Daryl sleep. Daryl had seen though. The tiredness in his eyes, the way he carried himself, if only for a second. And so, here Daryl was. Awake, sitting on the bottom of the stairs. Originally he was listening out for any slight movement or noise outside but now he was mostly just zoning out and ripping his cuticles out.
When Maggie had asked about swapping, however far into the night, he didn't really have a reason to turn her away, other than just wanting everyone else to get as much sleep as they could. Maybe because he cared more than he'd like to admit.
Daryl Dixon didn't care.
(He cared so so so much)
So here he was, still. Sitting on the bottom step. Zoning out. Picking and biting his nails.
Nothing more.
No wondering thoughts.
That is until a light tap and pat on his shoulder jolts him just a bit out of his trance.
Daryl looks up at Rick questionably. He'd clearly said something previously to Daryl but after spending a second looking Daryl over he decides against repeating himself and instead makes an effort to look more approachable.
"You mind if I sit here?" Rick asks, getting a hum of acknowledgment and a slight nod as Daryl goes back to his fingers.
Daryl decides against asking why Ricks up, partly because he doesn't really want to talk at all, partly because he knows the answer already. He's already decided that he'll keep watch all night despite how tired he is. He just wished that Rick would take that at face value and not question it and just accept it and leave him alone. He wishes Rick could look at Daryl and somehow understand and then go back to sleep because Daryl knows he needs it, they all do. He would really prefer not to talk about how much he cares for this group though, hence why if Rick could just KNOW, his life would be a million times easier.
Rick leans against the wall and slides down until he's sitting on the stair, facing Daryl. Now unfortunately at a better angle to see Daryls face, even as he hides and curls into himself. Not that he'd ever think of that as what he was doing.
Tough. Cold. Stubborn.
"You alright?" Rick asks, open and inviting, but the air is too heavy and there's absolutely no chance of Daryl taking the bait right now.
Rick knows this though, and he also knows he's either going to get a scoff and an annoyed grunt in response, maybe even ending with Daryl getting up and moving away from Rick. Or Daryl will shrug his shoulder and refuse to acknowledge the question altogether.
Neither are fantastic options but Rick is atleast optimistic for the latter.
As it so happens, Rick sees a bit of both in a way, with Daryl lightly scoffing, eyes darting up to Rick as if to ask 'are you serious?' before darting straight back down and after a couple seconds of heavy silence, shrugging his shoulder.
Okay. Rick can work with that.
There's a pause, Rick is choosing to naively hope Daryl might say something but then the pause stretches a little too far and he's met again with silence.
Daryl waits a minute, then two, and then counts to 5 in his head just incase Rick actually is going to say something else because he'd probably die if the one time he spoke up first was by interrupting the other.
Finally Daryl decides that it's safe to check what Rick's doing and hopefully won't be roped into one of Ricks 'as the leader I think it's my job to check in on everybody because I'm too nice and annoying like that' talks. He slowly turns his head to the side, expecting Rick to be straining to look out the covered window or to see him straightened up a bit, desperately trying to listen for danger. He almost expects him to be watching Daryl. Caring. He's too nice.
Daryl doesn't think he should care as much as he does. Not for Daryl atleast. The good deeds, the food and safety that Daryl provides, he's pretty sure that all of that is just making up for previously being a dick. That's what Daryl sees, and he's kind of worried that Rick doesn't see it like that, he doesn't think Rick sees Daryls help as making up for something he owes to this group. That kind of scares Daryl.
Tough. Cold. Stubborn.
He fortunately doesn't see that when he looks at Rick though. Rick's clearly lost in thought atleast somewhat and he's staring back down into the living room. Daryl doesn't think the sheriff notices him looking at him, so after a moment Daryl follows Ricks' gaze all the way into the living room and directly towards the person with seemingly the most awkward, palpable tension. Daryl holds back a sigh.
His realisation hasn't gone completely unnoticed it would seem, as Rick speaks up again.
"The baby will be born soon".
It's not a whisper but he's so soft spoken that it almost feels like a whisper. Like a secret. God Daryl feels like a highschooler, whispering secrets to each other in the middle of the night. Dirty stupid secrets over who's fucking who and whose cheat-
He has it in himself to feel fucking guilty with that train of thought, physically shaking his head lowly to try and get rid of the thought altogether.
No matter how true it feels, he genuinely feels bad thinking of their situation in that way. This was so much more than that. He digs a little deeper into the skin around his nail, applying more pressure.
Besides, this certainly wasn't a secret, no matter how far everyone has gone to dance around the subject.
Daryl sits up more, resting his elbows on his knees and turning back to Rick once more. He doesn't want to say anything at all if he's going to be honest but he has the feeling that Rick needs someone right now and if he chose Daryl - tough, cold, stubborn Daryl - to be the person he wanted to sit with, well then that's just unlucky for him. He'll just have to suck it up, like always.
He owes Rick that much.
Daryl stays silent, waiting and desperately hoping he doesn't have to initiate this already awful conversation he's somehow, once again, been roped into.
Rick takes a deep breath, slowly letting it out and coming out of the half daze he was stuck in. Then he looks at Daryl, really looks, presumably taking in all the details, the body language, the smudged and slowly bleeding fingernails. He knows Rick's somewhat trained for all this. He guesses there's something to be said about becoming a dad too. Heightened awareness, attention to detail, whatever the fuck. Daryl wouldn't know a single thing about that side of noticing details, the good side. Doing it because you care.
Daryl can't help but shrink a little at it, whatever it was. He goes back to biting his nails and makes a point to turn his head in the opposite direction of Rick.
He should have said something about the baby, he had a moment to be a good person for Rick but somehow, like always, he's waited a second too long and missed any opportunity to be helpful. Selfish.
Tough. Cold. Stubborn.
Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway.
It's not quite an awkward silence, thank god, Rick has a way of keeping the silence light and sometimes even comfortable. Maybe that was something else he'd been trained in, to keep people calm, considering his past occupation. Daryl wonders if it's something he can flip on and off like a switch. Maybe Rick makes an effort to keep the space as calm and light as possible when he's with Daryl. Like this.
The thought gives him a weird feeling, not bad, necessarily, just... Weird.
He can't help but glance up at Rick again, without thinking about it. Just incase he somehow read Daryls mind because he was thinking too loudly, or something.
This time he finds Rick seeming relaxed, in his element. Looking directly at Daryl, like he can see right through him, like Daryl is an open book. Usually his blood would boil at that type of look but Rick has some sense of sincerety and warmth in his eyes. That and Daryl immediately freezes as soon as he sees that Rick is openly staring at Daryl like there's nothing wrong with him. Like Daryl belongs. Like he's family.
Half amused, half concerned.
Damnit. Maybe he should know already that Rick isn't the type of person to let stuff go so easy when he can tell something is wrong. Not that anything is wrong. There isn't.
Now that Daryl has frozen in place for too long, he knows he can't really go back to hiding and facing the other way. So he just... Sits there. Probably wide eyed and slightly jittery. A truly awful situation, Daryl decides, his brain screaming at his body to move, move, MOVE.
Once again trapped in his own body, which is once again being much to slow for his liking. He licks over his dried lips and tries not to swallow too hard.
Rick becomes even softer looking at Daryl and confident in his own self, asks;
"Are you okay?".
Very slow and deliberate, making sure every word settles into Daryl's head, and that he can't escape it quite like last time.
Right, straight back into it then.
Suddenly like he's woken up a bit, Daryl realises that this is a potentionally very vulnerable position he's in and if he wants to keep up any semblance of this personality he's put up, he should really get onto it. Now.
Daryl scowls, trying to keep things under his control, for once.
"What are you? A school Councillor?".
Yeah, that'd do it. Daryl internally groans and just prays that Rick leaves it alone, for once in his life.
Rick chuckles but otherwise doesn't seem to be taken by Daryls' rough approach. Still looking as if absolutely nothing has changed and it doesn't matter how tough or cold or stubborn Daryl is because Rick has already figured him out and can see through all his bullshit.
There's a pause, unfortunately Rick is clearly much better at knowing exactly how much of a pause to take before picking it right back up, unlike Daryl.
He's still looking all stupidly open and inviting. Big softie, Rick Grimes.
"If that's what you need me to be". He lifts one shoulder in an easy shrug, small smile on his lips, looking at Daryl. Maybe if Rick wasn't so insistent at making eye contact, Daryl might be able to make it through this without feeling like he was going to throw up from how much unfiltered kindness was in Ricks eyes. Why would he ever direct that at him.
Daryl scoffs at that, ofcourse Rick would turn something stupid like that into something half sappy and gross. He's got a smirk tugging at his lips from both the stupid phrase and the idea that ofcourse Rick would reply with something like that, ofcourse.
It seems to be enough to satisfy Rick, though, who sees his smirk and in turn grins back at Daryl, teeth showing.
Daryl doesn't understand how he could put that smile on Ricks face, why on earth would Rick choose to let Daryl into his family. The others he can get, but he's Daryl Dixon, toug-.
Maybe because Daryl deserves a proper family.
It's only at times like this, middle of the night, in the hours that seem to exist for him alone, does he let himself indulge in thoughts like that.
He can feel the comfortable silence now.
They sit for a while, content to not talk anymore, which Daryl is infinitely grateful for. He's getting sleepier by the second though and he's sure he isn't going to last twenty minutes, let alone until morning.
He isn't quite sure when or even how he gets to sleep, though he assumes, through the thick fog of sleepiness, that Rick must have something to do with that too. As he's lying down next to the stairs, blanket under his head, and calm voice telling him something about taking watch.
Daryl Dixon is stupid, a burden, annoying.
Daryl Dixon is a little, an age regressor, alone.
Always feeling like a stupid highschooler with a stupid secret.
Sometimes he ends up feeling a whole lot less alone than other times though, and he's eternally thankful for that.