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Soft light filtered through the gauzy curtains of the birthing room, casting it in a warm glow. The scene felt almost ethereal, a little too unreal when compared to their every day existence. Maggie was propped up on the bed, fighting sleep in order to keep an eye on the newest resident of Alexandria. Glenn leaned protectively against his exhausted wife. The family was trying to balance their desire to see baby Rhee with respect for Maggie’s need to rest. And if Tara had teared up a little while crowing about being the cool, lesbian auntie no one was going to say a word about it. At least not today.
Trust a Dixon to shatter the moment.
It wasn’t that Daryl disliked babies. He would fuck up the day of anyone who tried to mess with Asskicker six times over before handing them to her pa and stepmama for the seventh. And watching his own wife coo softly to the tiny bundle that had just been placed in her arms gave him a wistful sort of longing he wasn’t going to admit to if anyone should dare to ask. There was just a certain oddity to random education mixed with redneck rearing that had made him damned uncomfortable with the societal niceties that had been expected before the fall. Babies had ranked incredibly high on his “what do I even” list.
The hunter hesitantly reached out to touch the baby’s cheek, still sticky in that way only new babies can be. The little head turned to the touch, mouth gawping, rooting for the finger. The little thing’s reflexes were strong. A survivor. Like his parents. Little dude would probably get out of just as many scrapes as his old man while giving the family just as many near heart attacks.
Carol was pressing further into him. Longing came off of her in shimmering waves. Daryl had a feeling it was going to be a good, good night for him. The mischievous twinkle in her eyes told him all he needed to know. In turn he couldn’t deny the appeal of a baby in his wife’s arms. Even if it was damned near the most dangerous thing a woman in this world could do.
Might be in their best interest for him to visit the pantry; give Olivia something new to gossip about by stocking up on preventative measures.
Damned by virtue of being a Dixon, he had to open his mouth and ruin the moment.
“We sure it ain’t a Blobfish?”
Carol’s eyebrows shot up. Somewhere off to the side he heard Michonne snort and begin to choke on one of the beers Tara had been handing out. Maggie’s face lit up in a priceless mixture of confused and offended.
“Chubby, deep sea fish,” Daryl grunted. In for a penny and all that jazz. “Chinese liked to use it in authentic native dishes.”
The baby made a shlurping burble that may have been a protest. Glenn groaned along with his son, but for different reasons. “I’m Korean.”
“That’s the part that bothered you?” Maggie rolled her eyes at her husband before holding her arms out for the baby in question.
Daryl tried not to protest at the loss of warmth at his side. Instead he decided to accentuate the positive and enjoy the gentle sway of Mrs. Dixon’s hips as she made her way across the room. He hated to see her go, but he loved to watch her walk away.
The new mother tucked her precious bundle in close once he had been returned. “I’ll remind you I still catch people calling Jude Asskicker.”
Glenn scuffed a foot against the carpet, hesitated, and then shrugged. “Daryl has a point. All new babies kind of look like alien fish.”
Maggie glanced pleadingly up at Carol. His little silver fox then threw a hard to read look his way. Either Olivia wasn’t gonna get any gossip today or it would be better than he’d originally anticipated.
Either way; he was paying for that remark later.