Work Text:
~*~
Rick's fingers were calloused and scarred.
Daryl could count them all, had them memorized in his head, a map of the life Rick once lived before. Little nicks from high school shop class, circular burns from his father's cigar ashes, scrapes from wrestling with criminals. The archer could look at them and Rick would tell a story, one that would have the man enthused for hours on end.
Nowadays stories were as good as a can of beans, anything to keep the mind fresh and healthy.
Anything that didn't correlate back to the ominous threat around them.
Unfortunately, Rick's stories only left Daryl itching for more, like a dog with fleas.
"Ya never tol' me 'bout those ones."
Daryl gestured towards rough callouses and scars on the pads of the cop's fingers. Rick simply shrugged, smile small and maybe a little broken. His big blue eyes darted to his boots, and he began shedding his shirt.
"Don't need to tell, you'll hear 'em one day."
Daryl nodded even if he didn't fully understand.
The archer gestured for Rick to get into bed, wrapping big biceps around the cop's scarred torso, running his dirty finger nails along the pink scar tissue. Rick shivered and Daryl sighed, relaxation settling within his bones.
Like the rest of them, he trusted Rick, and he'd be patient enough to wait.
~*~
It wasn't like they were intruding. No, the group only took places that were uninhabited, only grabbed things that they absolutely needed.
When Carl picked up an old Taylor guitar he'd managed to find whilst digging through their current residence, well, the group couldn't tell the kid no. The instrument would be yet another thing to hold them down, and it wasn't like anyone even knew how to play it. It'd be fine to mess around with for now though, and as everyone snuggled around the fireplace, they knew it'd be something to keep them busy while they held up in the old farmhouse.
"Dad."
Carl gestured over the fireplace and towards his dad, smiling softly, his eyes glazed over with something akin to trepidation. The boy raised the neck of the guitar into the air, Rick's eyes hardening slightly. He looked over to his son, shushing a teary eyed Judith and coming near. As soon as Judith's wandering eyes met the glaze of the fire she quieted, enthused with the dancing flames.
"Not now." Rick murmured, holding Judith tight, sending Carl an apologetic look. The boy would have none of it, pursing his lips. A few people made odd faces, cocking brows and smiling curiously.
"I'll hold her." Carl walked carefully around the many people sprawled about, shielding the acoustic from the blaze. "And you can play."
Daryl sat up a little, nudging Rick's ankle with shoulder as he sat cross-legged on the carpet. "Play?" Daryl asked, smirk growing on his face. "Well how 'bout it Grimes."
Rick rolled amazingly deep eyes, shaking his head. Brown curls bounced onto his forehead.
"It'll make too much noi-"
"Rick, come on! It'll be great!" Glenn exclaimed, riling up Judith whose eyes were at half mast. He mumbled an apology as Carl gathered Judith in his arms, bouncing her softly.
Daryl pulled Rick down to the carpet, shoving the guitar onto his lap and grinning like a fool.
"Daryl." Rick started softly, sending him a pointed look. The archer simply stared him down, eyes dipping to his mouth and then back up. Daryl licked his lips, clamping down his temptation and pointing at the guitar.
He grinned, "Play 'quietly' for us."
A few people hooted softly, Carl smirking from across the room, sitting Judith up against his chest and holding her tight. Rick grunted, grabbing the body of the acoustic and propping it up onto his crossed knees. He strummed it softly, twisting the tuning pegs to assure that the guitar was sound and ready to go.
He dusted off the strings, taking in a deep breath and positioning his fingers. He lined up his thumb with the strings and slowly strummed along them, creating a gracefully level rhythm.
"No he isn't-" Carol's mouth dropped, a grin on her lips.
"He is." Daryl laughed out, shaking his head. "He's playing Bon Jovi. Wanted Dead or Alive." The archer scoffed. "Ain't that the truth?"
Rick paused, sweet, innocent (far too good hearted to be sincere, that bastard) expression on his face. Daryl shook his head. "You want me to stop?" The cop rasped out, cocking his head.
"No." Both Carl and Daryl murmured together. The archer cleared his throat. "You're great, 'S just funny. Didn't pin you as a Bon Jovi fan."
"He knows the words too, used to sing and play all the time." Carl giggled, smiling wide. "Isn't that right dad?"
"About as right as you coercing me into playing, son." Rick muttered back, strumming along quietly, fingers moving as graceful as ever. Daryl was mesmerized, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Well, well, rock star Rick. You know any Kid Rock?"
Rick just smirked as he repositioned his fingers, playing the beginning of 'Blue Jeans And A Rosary'.
~*~
"Now I know." Daryl murmured, tucking his head closer to Rick's. The cop backed further into him, smiling softly.
"'M sorry I didn't tell you." Rick traced Daryl's palm with his rough fingers, staring at the many lines playing the guitar had given him. "Jus' something I used to do. Didn't feel right to bring it up."
"Well, I ain't mad." Daryl kissed the back of his neck, grinning against the curls there. "Think you should change that 'used' to just 'do'."
"Maybe, ain't gonna say no to Judy. She sure does like it."
"All of 's do." Daryl murmured, sighing softly and purring, "Just remember, you'll always be my angel in blue jeans."
Rick's laugh made everything worth it.
~*~