Work Text:
Daryl watched as your mouth moved, your hair falling lightly in your face. You had been a part of their group since the start, Daryl had grown very fond of you (though he would never let you know that.) He constantly watched you and made sure you were okay. You shared a few moments together, like when you both had recently gone out together looking for Sophia.
The trip allowed you both to tell stories of your childhood, both similar in their own ways. Daryl admired the way you worked, you were a lot like him. You never talked much, helped in any way you could. You weren’t afraid of hard work - weren’t afraid of much for that matter. You spent your nights reading by the fire, and your mouth moved along with the words.
Daryl continued to make the arrow in his hands, his eyes darting up to your face every few seconds. He loved to catch the expressions on your face as you read. One minute you were surprised and then the shock would settle. His attention was on you, and you only. Your face was lit beautifully by the fire and all he could do was stare. He wanted to make conversation, he loves hearing you talk. Conversation wasn’t his strong suit, hell he didn’t care for it most of the time. His eyes caught your face once more, his heart bouncing.
“Dammit.”
His eyes shot down to his hand, which now had a pool of blood collecting in it. A stinging pain shot through him, carelessness and distraction. He glanced back up, though now you stood in front of him. His heart began to pound loudly in his chest, he worried you could hear it. You grabbed his hand lightly, observing the cut he made to his rough skin.
“Keep pressure on it, I’ll get some supplies.”
Daryl tried to open his mouth to stop you, though you were gone too quick. He hated feeling weak, hated feeling so little. Part of him wanted to curse you for caring, the other part wanted to beg you to patch all of his cuts. Daryl did as you said, and continued to apply pressure until you returned. He didn’t dare not listen to you, anyone was crazy to not.
He watched you hurry down the steps of the Greene’s farm house and across the dirt path. Your hair was messy now, though he liked that. “Okay here, let me see.” Your voice was soft, gentle, and it warmed him. Some blood dripped onto the dirt beneath him, which was sucked up by the Earth. He wondered how much blood it held now thanks to the outbreak.
He reluctantly gave you his hand and watched you take it, and began cleaning it up. He could’ve wrapped it in a dirty shirt and went to bed, but he wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t like this attention from you. He watched as your hands slowly worked, wrapping his hand. His heart jumped whenever your skin collided with his, he loved it. His body begged for more, the touch calmed his mind.
His heart ached when you finally finished patching him up. “All better now.” You gave him a soft smile, and he wanted nothing more than to smile back, though he shrugged and went back to what he was doing. He watched as you found your spot again and began reading, your lips moving along silently with the words on the page.
“What’s it about?”
You moved your head to look at him, a smile found its way onto your lips. “Some story about a kingdom, want me to read out loud?” His heart would celebrate if it could, if he was in a cartoon he’d jump out of his seat and holler. He looked around, noticing you were the only two at the fire anymore. The fire was the only sound filling the space as it crackled and popped.
He only offered you a nod. You flipped back to the front page and began reading out loud. He listened, your voice full of emotion. You read about the kingdom, their history and struggles. He wished he could lay down and fall asleep to your words. Childish, yes, but he wished he could anyway. Occasionally he would catch your gaze. He felt like a child, sitting at their desk in school as they listened to their favorite teacher read a book.
Daryl felt his eyes getting heavy. He let out a light yawn and propped his feet up on the wooden table before him. His body leaned back, tucking his arms behind his head, you paused and watched him. He didn’t see you, but he knew you were looking at him.
“Keep goin.”
With that, you picked back up and continued reading to Daryl. You listened to his breathing, which over time became shallow. You knew he was asleep, though you kept reading. It was a nice feeling appreciated and wanted by someone in this world, especially from someone like Daryl. Daryl was so quiet and reserved. He didn’t fight for the spotlight or care to put into a conversation. He acted like he didn’t care that you were reading out loud, but you knew he did.
You wondered if Daryl had felt this safe in a long time. Able to put his trust into someone enough to let him sleep in front of them while they read him a story. He was being vulnerable around you, you liked that. Daryl wasn’t vulnerable, ever. Though around you was different, it always was.