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Daryl had decided that he wanted to relax a little more so he had gone to the lake in Alexandria to soak his feet and skin some game that he had gotten. It may not look like it to most people but that’s how he relaxed. He had taken his shoes and very worn socks off and put them in the cool water and let himself get lost in skinning, occasionally washing some blood off his hands. He didn’t know how long he sat there for but all he knew was that in the time he sat there the sun had reached its maximum height and faded a little to allow the air to cool a little.
“Hey.” Jesus said friendly, but it made Daryl flinch and curse all the same, partly annoyed at himself that he let himself get that side-tracked he didn’t hear him. Daryl spared him a glance over his shoulder and saw that Jesus was standing a few paces away from Daryl and the edge of the pool in a beanie but missing the trench coat, instead opting for a grey shirt like he had the white one at hill top.
“What do ya want?” He asked, a little peeved at being interrupted, he didn’t want to be teased now.
Jesus was starting to warm to him real damn fast, and although he would never say it, he did really like him and a small part of him, that Daryl smothered a lot – and had done for a very long time - wanted to be more that friends with Jesus. He didn’t know how his friends would react to it, and although he knew Jesus was gay he couldn’t think of one reason why Jesus would want to be with him.
Jesus held up his hands in a submissive gesture;
“I only wanted to chat.” He said a little smile on his face, as he sat down and crossed his legs beneath himself. Daryl went back to looking into the water, all the game skinned, but he could feel Jesus’ eyes on him. Soon the stare became too much for him to handle and he looked over his shoulder harshly and snapped;
“What?” He saw Jesus had a smile on his face and it grew from a relaxed gentle smile into a full-out teeth bearing grin.
“Nothing.” He let out a little laugh, and Daryl wasn’t sure if the laugh was self-deprecating or laughing at Daryl’s expense. “It’s just that sometimes I miss some of the luxuries of before. Like right now, I wish I had a camera so I could take a photo of you right now.” Daryl felt a blush rising up his cheeks so he turned and looked back into the lake.
“Why in tha’ hell would ya wanna photo a’ me?” He asked, he mumbled the question.
“Because, you look so peaceful right now, like you’re right where you’re supposed to be. A lot of the time you’re angry or stressed and it just makes a lovely change to see you so calm and peaceful and not a care in the world. That’s why I’d like a picture of you right now.” Jesus smiled.
There were a couple minutes of silence before Jesus spoke again.
“I miss a lot of things from before. Anything that really comes to mind for you?” He asked casually. Daryl still looking into the water shook his head.
“Naw. Didn’t have much ta miss.” There were a few more seconds of silence.
“I miss porn.” Jesus said out of nowhere making Jesus choke on the air out of shock, making Jesus roar with laughter. Daryl felt the blush rise up his face again, anything sexual always made him get a little flustered, and Jesus just thought that it was the most adorable thing. “There was this one that was amazing. The guy in it, holy shit, I’d let him do me all day.” He said letting out a laugh, “These two blokes did this one thing, then this other and eugh” He let out a little groan clearly remembering, making Daryl even more flustered. “I can’t explain it, but I could show you.” He laughed putting on a flirty voice. “I mean, I certainly watched it enough to know it-“ He was cut off when Daryl stood and grabbed him throwing him over his shoulder and picking him up like he weighed nothing.
Jesus started struggling, but Daryl had anticipated this and held his waist with one strong arm and held his legs together like a vice with the other arm. Jesus started hitting his back weakly, but then he stopped moving as Daryl started making his way to the pond. Then started thrashing violently.
“Daryl. Daryl.” He spoke quickly with apparent panic, “Please, don’t put me in the pond. Please. Daryl!” But Daryl wasn’t paying attention, intent on his course of action. “Seriously, Daryl please!” Jesus was practically begging and was thrashing harder than before but Daryl didn’t budge. Just as Daryl reached the edge of the pond and threw Jesus in he heard Jesus scream “Daryl!” as he let got then there was a splash. But the splashing didn’t stop as Jesus was thrashing in the pond and then Daryl realised something was really wrong. It didn’t look like Jesus was acting. He was genuinely freaking out, without a second thought Daryl jumped into the water and walked over to where Jesus was panicking.
“Jesus!” He started shouting trying to get attention, “Paul!” as he said his real name Daryl grabbed onto Paul’s arm in a vice grip, Jesus still pulling, in a blind panic. His head kept going under the water and choking him because of the rapid breathes he was taking. Daryl grabbed onto Jesus’ other arm and started pulling him to the edge of the pond. It was a struggle but Daryl managed to pull him onto the grass, somehow no one had heard and it was still just them.
Daryl had let go of Jesus’ arms and Jesus rolled onto his side coughing up water while still taking panicked breathes. Somehow his beanie was still on and Daryl pulled it off. Jesus had placed his hands over his chest and had closed his eyes. Daryl didn’t know how to help so he just put a hand on Jesus’ back, which made Jesus flinch a little making Daryl feel terrible- not that he didn’t already.
As Daryl watched he noticed that what Jesus was doing, that was calming him down, was really methodical, and he realised – horrified – that Jesus must have had a lot of panic attack to know in the middle of a panic attack what to do to stop it.
Jesus had his hands curled into fists, holding his thumb in hand, and they were lying over his chest. Jesus held his breath and then let out a breath and then took in another and slowly he started taking calm breaths more frequently. Daryl realised he was allowing himself breaths ever 10, then 5, then 3 seconds, and he was impressed it must take a lot of practice and self-control to stop yourself from hyperventilating.
After Jesus seemingly had finished his panic attack, they stayed in the same position for a while Jesus lying on his side taking deep, controlled breaths and Daryl sitting behind him with his hand on his back. Out of nowhere Jesus spoke;
“I’m sorry.” He spluttered out between breaths. And Daryl was shocked, like he had just been slapped, Jesus wasn’t facing him so he couldn’t see Daryl’s mouth fall open. He sat in shock for a few seconds before anger hit him.
“Why ta’ fuck are you saying sorry?” He growled, trying not to shout, registering that that would probably make the situation worse.
“I freaked out, and I think I hit you when you pulled me out the pond. Thank you for that, by the way.” He was still breathing extremely deeply, still not completely okay with himself.
“Don’t fuckin’ apologise, ya prick. Ya just had a panic attack because I threw ya in a fuckin’ pond and your sayin’ sorry to me. I’m tha’ one that should be apologisin’.” He said angry with himself but also slightly angry with Jesus for saying sorry. He took a deep breath to calm himself and he noticed that Jesus was shivering a little; obviously the wet clothes were cold. “Come on.” Daryl said making Jesus look at him over his shoulder, a confused frown on his dripping face, “Let’s go ta my house. Lemme make it up to ya.” He said standing, before offering Jesus his hand and helping him up on shaky legs.
Luckily he lived close by so they didn’t have to walk far, Daryl holding the skinned game; he would cook something for Jesus. As a way of an apology.
They walked up the steps to Daryl’s house and entered the surprisingly clean home. Jesus took of his boots and made his way into the living room and Daryl went upstairs and brought down some sweat pants and a light jumper and went into the living room to see Jesus standing still shivering. He threw the clothes at Jesus and he caught them, though not as easily as he normally would.
“Why didn’t ya sit down?” He asked, wanting the man to at least try and relax.
“Didn’t want to make the furniture wet, it’s rude.” He spoke but he voice was a little dejected and his normal smile wasn’t there and Daryl suddenly felt the guiltiest he had ever felt, this was his own fault. And here was Jesus not wanted to get his sofa wet when he had just thrown him in a pond, making him have a panic attack.
“I’m gonna go put a squirrel in tha’ oven.” He said, scuffing his feet against the floor. “Put on the clothes ya shiverin’” Jesus nodded and started taking off his shirt as Daryl turned and left. When Daryl came back Jesus was on the couch in the jumper and sweat pants, and he threw a blanket at him which Jesus gladly received and pulled his feet under him and placed the blanket on him, he looked tired- like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
Daryl went and sat next to him, closer than he normally would with anyone else. They sat in silence for a minute or two.
“Are ya okay?” Daryl asked carefully.
“I’m okay.” Jesus sounded as tired as he looked. “I’m a little off, sorry, I just get tired after panic attacks.” He let out a little tired laugh, confusing Daryl, “Once in middle school I hand a panic attack in class and no one noticed and in the next lesson I fell asleep and got in trouble.” He laughed a little at the memory. But Daryl just got concerned, he shouldn’t have been having panic attacks in school and getting in trouble for it.
“Did ya have a lot of panic attacks, before I mean? Cause when you were havin’ one jus’ you seemed to know exactly what ta do.” Daryl said a little sad.
“Yhea, I did have a lot of panic attack, not healthy I know, but it doesn’t matter.” Daryl frowned at that, it did matter.
“It does matter.” Jesus looked at Daryl when he said that, letting a little confusion find its way onto his face, but he didn’t say anything. “Why did ya have so many panic attacks?” Jesus gave a deep sigh and hesitated, “It’s okay, ya don’t have ta tell me.” Daryl backtracked.
“No, it’s okay.” Jesus paused again before seemingly forcing it out of him, “some of them were just due to school and stuff like that, tests, results, homework that crap. But most of them were down to my dad.” Daryl stiffened a little knowing first-hand how awful fathers could be. “When I was younger, I wasn’t like the other boys. I was really ‘girly’” When Jesus said girly he made air quotes around the imaginary word, “I wanted to grow my hair, all my friends were girls, I wanted my room pink and that stuff. My mom was overjoyed,” Jesus let a smile fall on his face, with the memory of his mom, “she said she would love me no matter what. But my dad said he didn’t want to raise no fag.” He spat the word out and a few tears dripped from his eyes, partly angry tears partly sad, “Then he and my mom got into a massive fight and they got a divorce and custody said I would spend a week with my dad and then a week with my mom. The first week I was with my dad he cut all my hair off and then every week I would go every nights except Tuesdays I would go to martial arts, but on Tuesdays we would go to the pool and my dad would hold my head under the water, he wouldn’t let me come up.” Jesus’ voice was getting quicker and his breaths were getting shorter and he hands balled into tight fists he wasn’t looking at Daryl but at the coffee table, clearly not in the same room as Daryl, “He had an obsession with holding your breath. ‘The longer you can hold your breath’ he would say, ‘the more of a man you are.’ I’d claw and struggle but he would only let me up once I started thrashing and then he’d give me a few seconds to breath before holding me under again.” Tears were streaming down his face now, “All because he didn’t want a fucking fag for a son, but that’s what he got.” He let out an angry sob then he seemed to remember where he was.
In a room with Daryl. Jesus turned to look at Daryl, to see Daryl staring at him with wide eyes. Then Daryl did something he never expected Daryl to do. Daryl grabbed him and pulled him into the tightest hug he had ever had and that did it. The flood gates opened and he started sobbing into Daryl’s chest holding onto his shirt for dear life while his body shook with jolting sobs.
Jesus’ hair and tears were soaking Daryl’s shirt but Daryl couldn’t care less right in that second, all he cared about now was holding Jesus and letting him know he was loved. Daryl started rubbing Jesus’ back making quiet shushing sounds.
After a while of sobbing it turned into gentle tears, and then Jesus fell asleep on Daryl’s chest still gripping his shirt. Daryl carefully pried himself away from Jesus lying him down to go and make the food and change into dried clothes, feeling angry at Jesus’ father. He made a stew and warmed it up before going back into the living room to see Jesus still asleep on the sofa under a blanket, clearly in a deep peaceful sleep but he needed to eat, Daryl had heard that eating food after a panic attack worked.
He went over to Jesus and carefully shook him awake. Jesus sat up and rubbed his eye, the world slowly focusing around him. Daryl handed him the bowl and he realised how hungry he really was. They started to eat sitting next to each other on the couch.
“Ya feelin’ better?” Daryl asked between mouthfuls.
“Yhea a lot better, thank you.” Jesus said then continued eating.
“I’m really sorry for throwin’ ya in the pond. I really am.” He was really sincere about his apology.
“I know you are.” Jesus said looking at him directly, “I accept your apology. I’m not angry with you at all- I promise, so don’t go beating yourself up, okay Dixon. I know you do that all the time but don’t do it over this.”
“Okay.” Daryl mumbled, still feeling bad. Jesus, suddenly, put his bowl on the floor and stood, grabbing Daryl’s bowl and putting that on the floor and as well. He stood over Daryl and grabbed his face gently looking into Daryl’s eyes.
“Daryl I do not want you to feel bad about this. It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay. Don’t beat yourself up over this, I promise you I’m not angry and nothing has changed between us.”
Just as Jesus was about to pull back and sit down Daryl grabbed Jesus’ head and pressed his lips to Jesus’. It took Jesus a few minutes to respond but once he did it was the most magical thing Daryl had ever felt.
Jesus moved forward, not breaking the kiss, and sat on Daryl’s lap putting his arms around Daryl’s neck pushing their torsos together. Daryl put his arms around Jesus’ torso pulling him and holding him in his lap. After a few minutes of kissing Jesus pulled back and moved his hands on Daryl’s buckle but Daryl grabbed his hands making Jesus freeze.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. S-sorry.” He was quick to apologise.
“No,” Daryl quickly stopped Jesus from getting up off his lap by letting go of one of his wrist and putting his arm around Jesus’ back, “I want that so badly, like I’ve wanted it so badly for so long. But not like this. Not after you’ve had a panic attack, not when we’re both drippin’ wet. I want it ta be perfect.” He said placing a quick kiss on Jesus’ lips, “I don’t wanna waste my first time with you, or my first time general.” He said blushing a little. Jesus nodded, understanding.
“Can I kiss you Daryl Dixon?” He asked.
“Yes.” He replied and Jesus leant forward and kissed his lips and in that moment they were happy and all their worries were forgotten in dripping hair and sweet kisses.