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Daryl throws the keys to Paul from where he’s standing by the driver’s side door. He’s almost always shotgun, driving never feels right when he’s not on his bike and he’d rather keep watch and leave the work to someone else.
“I… uh… Can’t actually drive.” He shrugs and offers a sheepish smile.
“Holy shit,” Daryl stands there stunned for a second, then what Paul said kicks in and he tries his hardest not to laugh, “Then why’d you try to steal our fucking truck?!”
Paul shrugs again, “I dunno. It was kind of a split second impulsive idea. I got behind the wheel and thought ‘how hard can it be?’ Turns out it’s really hard. I’m surprised I made it that far at all.”
“How’d’ya make it this far in life an’ not learn howta drive?” Daryl catches the keys as Paul throws them back.
“I grew up in the city! I just walked or took the subway. And after everything happened, we can’t waste gas and everyone always needs the cars and no one has time to teach people how to drive.”
There’s a certain way that Paul says the last part that makes Daryl scowl, “‘M not teachin’ you howta drive.”
“I didn’t ask. ”
Daryl sits in the driver’s seat with his arms crossed to show that he’s Not Happy About This while Paul adjusts the passenger’s seat. He slides it back as far as it goes and puts his feet up on the dashboard, then pulls his beanie down over his eyes.
“Wake me up when we get there, pretty boy.” He smiles even though he can’t see Daryl’s reaction. Daryl reaches over and flicks him in the side of the head. He’s pretty sure Paul isn’t trying to be patronizing, but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. He starts the car and rolls forward, Eugene opens the gate and gives them both a rigid salute; Daryl nods in his direction in response.
-
Paul doesn’t sleep. They’re on the road all of five minutes before he readjusts his hat, sits up, and starts rummaging through the car for CDs.
“People always put ‘em in here somewhere,” he explains to Daryl as he takes an armada of plastic cutlery out of the center console. He ends up finding an unreasonable amount of ‘Now That’s What I Call Music’ CDs; he examines the track listing on the back of each of them before putting in number 29. A pop-y guitar riff starts and he bursts out singing along to it.
“What the hell is this?” Daryl would be burying his face in his hands if he wasn’t driving.
“It’s PINK. ” Paul says it as if that would mean something to Daryl.
He suffers through the next song, another equally pop-y song about dysfunctional relationships, before shutting it off, handing Paul the map, and telling him to navigate. Rick’s circled a few neighborhoods that might not be completely picked through and a strip mall as their final stop. The plan is to spend half a day at each location taking anything they can.
-
Daryl’s fallen into the haze that comes with driving in a straight line for about three hours when Paul suddenly shouts, “Wait! Stop here!”
Daryl slams the brakes on and the car jolts to a stop; then he turns to Paul for an explanation.
“There’s another neighborhood here, up over the hill. Lots of houses, could be worth it.” He points at it on the map, the walk isn’t very long and Daryl figures there’s no harm in checking it out.
“First, we’re gonna need to get the car off the road.” Daryl’s quiet when he says it, Paul looks like he’s just been told that he’s getting a puppy. Daryl drives off onto the grassy roadside to the right. They both get out and Paul uses his knife to cut some boughs off of the bushes and passes them to Daryl to cover it up. Paul slings the empty duffel bags over his back; Daryl takes his crossbow. They walk towards the field on the left side of the road.
They’re about a quarter of the way into the field when Paul stops suddenly; Daryl stops too and looks around to assess the situation. No walkers, no people. Maybe he heard something Daryl didn’t… Paul drops the bags in the grass, grinning like a madman, then he taps Daryl on the shoulder.
Daryl practically jumped at the touch, “Asshole.”
“Tag, you’re it!” Paul bounced up on his toes and took off running; he stopped about 20 feet away and waved to Daryl, “Come onnn.”
Daryl thought about it for a second. The field had good visibility, the woods were only on two sides of it and he could easily make it to safety. There still weren’t any walkers and if there were people, the two of them would be dead before they could do anything about it. Plus, they both had knives on their hips. Daryl sighs and set the crossbow down before taking off after Paul, who looks ecstatic as soon as he sees Daryl running towards him. He catches up to the other man quickly and taps him on the back. Paul whips around just in time to see Daryl sprinting away. Daryl was a good couple of inches taller than him and had longer legs; the situation was futile. Paul stops trying to catch up with him but instead wait him out. He chases after him enough for it to put Daryl on edge, but not enough to exhaust himself. After five minutes, Daryl stops to catch his breath.
Paul smirks, “LOOK OUT!”
Daryl looks up in time to make direct eye contact with Paul as he sprints forward and throws his entire body weight directly into Daryl. Normally getting body-slammed by someone that much smaller than Daryl wouldn’t knock him over but he isn’t prepared at all; they both tumble over and into the grass. He lands on his back, not hard enough to knock the wind out of him, but hard enough that it hurts. Paul rolls over to lay on his back next to Daryl, simultaneously laughing and trying to catch his breath. Daryl can’t help but grin.
“Sure beats the first time we did this,” Paul says after he finally catches his breath.
“Why?” Daryl isn’t sure why he asks it.
“Huh?”
“Why’d you do this?”
“I guess I could say some bullshit about boosting morale or keeping our humanity in this world but, it’s fun…” he stops and thinks for a second, “and, I wanted to see you smile. ‘Cos you’re, like, really good looking.”
Daryl’s entire body tenses up and he freezes. He isn’t sure what he feels. He’s not angry. Or surprised even, because he’s pretty sure Paul’s been flirting with him since they first met even though he’s not the best at picking up on that kind of thing. The closest word he can find to describe it is suspicious.
Paul can sense the difference in Daryl and a sinking feeling of regret starts to set in. His face is hot and he’s definitely blushing. A lot. He covers his face with both of his hands and makes a distressed noise.
“Sorrryyy…” the words come out muffled by his hands, “That was a weird thing to say. I don’t know why I said that.”
Daryl stands up and walks back over to their gear, he can still hear Paul quietly groaning in embarrassment, which is weird, because he’s Paul. Always sarcastic, always smug, always an asshole. He throws the crossbow over his shoulder and picks up the bags, then walks back over to Paul. He nudges the man on the ground with his foot; Paul stands up without meeting his eyes and grabs the bags without saying a word. Daryl feels like he should probably say something, but words are hard to articulate in good situations, much less this clusterfuck. So, he decides to leave it up to Paul; if he presses it, he’ll talk.
That plan backfires ten minutes later when Daryl realizes that Paul’s trailing behind him like a ghost, looking like he’s scared that Daryl’s gonna murder him any minute now.
“It’s okay.”
Paul looks even more terrified now that Daryl’s spoken.
“What you said. It’s okay,” Daryl stops to look at him, “I’m jus’ wonderin’, why that was such a big deal. ‘M pretty sure you’ve been flirtin’ with me since the beginnin’.”
Paul grins, not as big as usual, and says, “You did notice!”
Daryl mutters something and starts walking.
Paul speeds up to walk next to him, “When I’m flirting like that, most guys just think I’m fuckin’ with them. When it gets serious, things can go… badly. ”
Paul hovers over the word long enough for Daryl to know that it’s significant.
“And, no offense, but you look like the kinda guy who’d take it badly.”
Then it clicks. Paul probably thought that Daryl was gonna murder him. He feels like shit, going over every single thing he could’ve done differently. He should’ve said something and now he’s probably fucked this up. He’s only snapped back to reality when he notices that Paul’s staring at him again.
Daryl speaks slow and quiet, like the voice he uses when he’s alone with Carol, “‘M not angry. I just di’n’t know what ta say.” Paul finally looks like he’s actually relaxing a bit.
The neighborhood looms ahead of them. It’s gated, which is good news for them, since it means rich people used to live there, and the gate’s still intact, so hopefully it hasn’t been raided before. Paul runs ahead and climbs up and over the gate like it’s nothing.
“Are you coming?” He smirks from the other side of the fence. Daryl climbs over, it takes longer and he’s decidedly more awkward than Paul, which makes the other man laugh.
“‘S’not my fault I’m not a fuckin’ cat like you.”
“Whatever you say, Dixon.” Paul gives a ridiculous eyebrow waggle that Daryl can’t stop himself from laughing at.
-
All in all, the run is pretty good. The type of people to live in those houses were more of the “organic” variety and there was little canned food, but there were leftover medical supplies and toothpaste, and lots of clothes. They head back to the car when it starts to get dark. Daryl breaks the lock on the gate open with the butt of his crossbow.
“You can take the back seat. Sleep awhile. I’ll take first watch.” Daryl says once they get back to the car.
“Wait a second,” Paul pops the trunk, then walks over to push a button in the back; the back seats fall forward and he shuts the trunk, “Tada! Now we’ll both fit. And I’ve got blankets.” He opens the back door and puts the duffel bags down on the floor, then he takes his jacket off and rolls it up. He gets in the back on the right side and lays down on his side, using his jacket as a pillow.
Daryl sits in the back as well, “I’m still gonna watch. Ain’t safe for us both to sleep.”
“Whatever,” Paul grumbles as he pulls both of the blankets he brought over himself. Daryl opens the window on the left side enough that he can get his crossbow out of it, then shuts the car off. They sit in silence for an hour and Daryl’s sure Paul’s fallen asleep until he hears movement.
“How’s it goin?” Paul yawns halfway through the sentence, “Find any walkers yet?”
“Thought you were asleep.”
“I’m trying .”
Paul shifts around until he’s lying with his head cradled in his hands, pressed up against Daryl’s leg. Daryl’s not entirely opposed to physical contact, but he’s cultivated kind of a reputation after consistently freaking the fuck out at unprompted physical contact, and while he isn’t at a “punching someone in the face on impulse if they catch you by surprise” level of reaction anymore, that kind of thing doesn’t go away. Still, it’s nice. He hasn’t been this close to another person since the beginning of Alexandria, when his family all slept on the bottom floor of the house. He keeps his eyes trained out the window and listens to Paul’s breathing.
“I had the shit beat out of me when I was 16.” Paul’s quiet and there’s none of his usual enthusiasm in his voice, “Ended up in the hospital.”
The reason why it happened hangs unspoken the air and it hits Daryl like a goddamn train when he realizes that getting the shit beat out of you at 16 isn’t supposed to be a normal occurrence. He almost makes a comment about the same thing happening to him, except he never made it to a hospital, but he’s not in the mood to share his life story with a guy who goes by Jesus.
“It’s a big part of why we moved to DC, never made it far from home after moving there. My parents were really good about it all.” then he laughs one of the most pitiful laughs Daryl’s ever heard and adds, “They’re probably dead now. Pretty much everyone is.”
He stops talking for a minute and Daryl can hear him breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to calm down. Eventually the breathing evens out.
“Things like that don’t happen anymore. People are too busy trying not to die to care. It’s not perfect now, but it’s better, as bad as that sounds.”
Daryl makes a sound in agreement.
“What was it like for you, y’know, Before?”
It’s at this moment that Daryl decides ‘fuck it, he’s already poured his guts out to me and now I’ve gotta say something to him’, plus he feels like he can trust Paul.
“It sucked dick. Livin’ the American nightmare, dead mom, deadbeat dad, nightly beatings, the works.” his voice sounds far away and he feels detached and dreamlike, like he always does whenever he brings up his childhood.
Paul notices that something’s off, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Daryl sighs and sets the crossbow down; he’s gonna be useless as a lookout now and he doesn’t trust Paul’s ability to sit still and watch for movement. If they get attacked tonight, it’s gonna be on him, but he knows there’s no way he can get his shit together enough to protect them. So, he stretches out and lies down next to Paul, who slides the blankets over him too. Paul’s pressing his head up against Daryl’s shoulder now and he’s surprised at how grounding it feels.
-
He’s not sure when he falls asleep but when he wakes up it’s bright outside. He blinks away the split second panic of not knowing where he is that comes with every morning. Paul’s sitting with his back up against the car door eating a protein bar.
“Mornin’.” He’s smiling, something radiant and genuine compared to every other smile Daryl’s seen out of him yet.
“Why didn’tya wake me up? It’s probably noon already an’ we’re wastin’ the day.” Daryl runs a hand through his hair.
“I thought you could use the sleep. It’s not often that we get a full night’s sleep anymore.” Paul navigates his way up and over the middle console to get into the passenger seat; Daryl chooses to open the door and go around to the driver’s seat like a normal human being.
-
Paul has the map open and he’s attempting to trace their route with his fingers, he’s got a vague idea of where the next neighborhood is already.
“So, uh, what are you? Because I’ve been flirting forever, and you know that I’m flirting, and you haven’t told me to fuck off, but you also haven’t told me you’re down for it.”
Daryl almost crashes the car in surprise. He’s been expecting this kind of a question for weeks now but it isn’t any less of a shock.
“Shit, that sounded really rude. I was trying to phrase it in a way that didn’t sound like I expected you to be straight because that’s shitty too.” Paul’s speaking in a very fast and flustered way.
He’s still rambling on nervously when Daryl cuts him off, “I dunno.”
“What?”
“I dunno. Never really thought about it.” Daryl takes both hands off the wheel to shrug at Paul, who bites back a panicked comment about the fact that Daryl currently is not touching the wheel at all.
“You are aware that that’s a very definitely not hetero sounding answer.” Paul smirks.
Daryl turns to look at him, “How’d’ya figure that?”
“Straight people generally don’t have to think about their sexuality ‘cos it’s already kind of the norm pretty much everywhere. ”
Daryl makes an almost contemplative noise and Paul decides he’s not going to push it. At least for now.
-
Paul barely makes it an hour before he has to blurt something stupid out because he’s not going to be able to let this rest.
“I could help you figure it out. Not in a flirtatious way, I might add, unless you want to.” he mentally smacks himself over that, “It’s just, hard to figure it out. ‘Specially on your own.”
“Sure,” Daryl says it so quietly that Paul isn’t sure if he actually said it.
“Uh…” Paul thinks for a second, “What’s the one character that you reeeallyyyyy liked as a kid?”
Daryl looks confused, Paul adds on, “Luke Skywalker, that’s who it was for me. Dorky as fuck, I know.”
“Don’t remember much of my childhood.” Daryl still sounds very quiet.
“Fair enough,” Paul glosses over it, trying to make him feel more comfortable, “What’s the one celebrity you’d fuck? It can be anyone from any time.”
“None of ‘em.” Daryl sounds comfortably matter of fact.
“Interesting, interesting… Do you ever think about sex?”
Daryl squirms around a bit before answering, “Not really.” Paul looks at him for a second, thinking.
He squirms even more, “Don’ look at me like that. Like there’s somethin’ wrong wi’ me.”
“I’m not, I’m just thinking.”
“Bout what?”
“About you.” Paul smiles at him. Daryl looks away and tries to fall back into the lull of driving.
“I think you’re ace, Daryl.” Paul finally speaks after five minutes of consideration.
“Huh?” he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.
“Oh fuck, you’ve probably never heard of that, down in Georgia.”
Daryl turns to look at him.
“Ace. Asexual. As in, you’re not sexually attracted to anyone. Period.” Paul explains, “And there’s nothing wrong with it. At all.”
Daryl shrugs at him again, turning the word over in his mind.
“That doesn’t cover romantic attraction, though, but we can talk about that later.” Paul offers with a smile.
-
They pull up to the next neighborhood just as it’s starting to get dark. Five walkers wander around the road into the cul de sac. Daryl stops the car; they both get out. Paul goes up to the walker closest to him, an old woman with skin literally melting off of her wearing the absolute worst bathrobe in existence. It’s covered in colorful cats and looks torn. He slips the knife from the sheath on his hip and stabs the walker in the head. It drops to the ground. Daryl’s already taken out two others and is on his way over to the third. Paul kills his second, a teenager missing an arm.
Daryl decides that it’s too much to try to clear out a house right now. It’s getting dark and flashlights will draw the walkers out. Paul rummages through some of the canned food they’ve picked up. He settles on Spaghettios, a can that’s dusty but not dented and Paul figures he’s hungry enough that he’ll risk botulism. He stabs the lid to open it up, then takes one of the sets of plastic cutlery.
“I coulda found us some meat.” Daryl groans.
“A fire would draw walkers too,” Paul laughs, “Besides, room temp Spaghettios are the food of gods. I ate it all the time when I was homeless.”
Paul’s not good at keeping secrets and he keeps giving parts of himself over to Daryl. It makes him kind of uncomfortable and a bad voice in the back of his head is telling him ‘ABORT ABORT, HE’S GETTING TOO CLOSE, YOU NEED TO END THIS BEFORE IT GOES BAD’. But, Daryl's trying to get better about not sabotaging everything when he feels like things are too good for him.
“How’d it happen? Thought ya said yer parents were good with it.” Daryl’s not sure if that’s overstepping it.
“Oh, no, it wasn’t them. It was this guy, thought I was in love with him. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he didn’t really have his shit together. Not that I did, either. I left with him, decided I was gonna stay with him through thick and thin. It turns out that that meant I’d be living with him in his car after we got evicted. I didn’t want to admit to my parents that they were right and that I couldn’t just drop out of college and move in with someone that fast. Eventually it got to a point where I said to myself, ‘What the hell are you doing, Paul, you’re living in a car’ and I went home.” He passes the can to Daryl, who takes it begrudgingly, but it’s food, so he’s not going to complain.
“I was homeless too, fer a while, after my mom died. Got insurance money from the house but ‘till then we were on the road. He’d drop me’n’my brother off ta wander when he went ta the bar.” He passes the can back after eating a few mouthfuls.
“It’s funny how we just ended up back here. Sleeping in a car. Eating cold canned food.” Paul laughs.
“Killin’ walkers.” Daryl adds.
Paul laughs even harder, “Yeah, that part’s new!” He scrapes the last of the pasta out of the jar, then opens the car door to put the empty can on the ground.
“I’ll take watch.” Daryl gets his crossbow ready.
“I’m beginning to think you don’t trust me enough to be on watch, Dixon.” Paul grins at him, he can barely see it in the dark.
-
Paul wakes up when it’s still dark out, but he doesn’t feel like trying to go back to sleep so he lies on his back until it starts to get light out. His sleep schedule’s always been screwed up, but it’s even worse after everything went to shit. Finally, he decides it’s bright enough to actually get something done. Daryl flinches slightly when he sits up, like he didn’t remember that Paul was there.
“Let’s go. We’re almost a day behind.” he wipes the sleep out of his eyes as he says it. Daryl unwinds himself from the uncomfortable looking position he’s been in all night. A few more walkers have stumbled in since last night, each one has a crossbow bolt sticking out of their head. Daryl pulls them out as he walks past them.
The first house they come to is burnt out, barely a skeleton of wood left. Daryl freezes; Paul keeps walking like he hasn’t noticed. It’s stupid to get so upset, Daryl tells himself. He thought it’d be different after burning the house down with Beth, but that was controlled and intentional and this wasn’t. He’s shaking so hard that it’s a wonder he’s still standing. Paul finally notices that Daryl isn’t right behind him and jogs back.
“Hey. Hey, you’re okay.”
Daryl can barely hear his voice over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. Paul puts his arm over Daryl’s shoulder and leads him away. He turns Daryl's back to the house and puts his hands on Daryl’s shoulders.
“Come on, Daryl, you need to breathe. In,” he inhales through his nose, “and out.” He exhales through his mouth. Daryl starts to copy him, still shaking. When he’s finally relaxed enough to realize what’s happening, he’s panicking again. He pushes Paul back, not hard, just enough that Paul gets the message and steps back.
“Fuck off.” Daryl paces around, “Leave me ‘lone.”
Paul stays where he’s standing and makes his voice soft, “I know you’re not mad at me. You’re mad, but not at me. I’m the only one here for you to be mad at.”
Daryl looks up from the ground to glare at him. After it’s been said out loud, Daryl’s surprised how much he needed to hear that. He’s aware that he’s probably just mad at himself but this really isn’t the time to start analyzing just exactly how fucked up he is.
“Do you want me to back off?” Paul’s looking at him, looking concerned. Daryl nods because he isn’t sure he can say anything without yelling it.
“Okay. Just, stay close, please?” He starts walking again and Daryl follows a couple of feet back.
The next house has four walker children wandering around the fenced in front yard. Paul’s sure there’d be some good things for Judith or the kids in Hilltop there, but he really doesn’t want to kill kids, even if they aren’t technically kids anymore. Plus, he doesn’t want to leave Daryl alone for the time it’d take to kill them. They walk past it. The third house is empty, no walkers in the yard. The door’s shut and locked but he uses his knife to smash out the window beside the door and reaches in to unlock it.
The house is completely bare, the previous owner must’ve evacuated back at the beginning. There’s a ragged couch in the living room and a dining room table with one chair. The kitchen’s picked clean. Upstairs is a bedroom filled with exercise equipment, another that’s a library, and one with a stripped down queen sized mattress. Paul makes a mental note of the library, he’ll come back and raid it after he’s found something that doesn’t make this neighborhood a bust. He goes back to the kitchen, where Daryl’s sitting at the table. They’re about to leave when he notices the door.
“I think it’s got a basement.” Paul gestures to the door, “I’ll go check it out.” He opens the door and climbs down the unfinished stairs. There’s a very decomposed headless corpse sitting against one of the walls. Suicide. The rest of the room is filled with shelving units.
“Hoooly Shit!” He calls back up the stairs to Daryl, “The guy was a goddamn doomsday prepper! There’s a shitload of food down here; I’m gonna start bringing it up. Can you help me sort it?”
Daryl knows what he’s doing, trying to keep his mind off of what happened earlier, but he’s thankful for a distraction. Paul brings up three boxes full of military-style ready to eat meals, then another two boxes of canned food, and finally ten gallons of water.
“This is GREAT!” Paul can barely stand still and he’s grinning like this is the best day of his life. Daryl isn’t really sure what’s so great about it, since he’s just gonna have to split half of it with Alexandria, and then Negan’ll take half of his share. Still, he works on sorting the cans by their contents. He sets aside anything that’s expired. Paul’s still overjoyed at the rations, and he can understand it, it’s a whole meal for when you’re on a run.
“Can you handle this on your own?”
Daryl nods at him, still not ready to talk.
“I’ll be right back, then.” Paul smiles at him and runs upstairs to the library. He takes one of the empty duffel bags they had left and grabs anything that looked useful. Among that was an inordinate amount of survival books, a couple of medical textbooks, and a big book on farming. Then, he looks back over the inventory and takes whatever looks like it might be interesting. When he makes it back downstairs, Daryl is done sorting. Paul works on putting the sorted food back into the boxes, then slings the duffel bag over his shoulder and stacks two boxes before picking them up. Paul puts them in the front passenger seat on the ground, he’s not ready to give up the sleeping space in the back just yet.
“I’m calling it a night. You wanna go hunt?” He’s given up on trying to get Daryl to talk, so he just watches for a response; Daryl nods.
“I’ll get wood for a fire.”
Daryl nods again and walks off into the woods, crossbow in hand.
-
By the time he gets back, Paul already has a good fire going. Daryl has five skinned things that probably were considered squirrels, once. He skewers them on sticks and holds them over the fire. It’s good to eat something that’s actually hot for once. The sun’s setting and Paul sits up on the front of the car to watch it. Daryl stays by the fire and pokes at it with a stick. Afterwards, Paul stands up and puts the fire out, then spreads the ashes around.
“You should sleep, Daryl, I’ll watch.”
“No.”
“I’ll wake you up if anything happens. You need some sleep.” Paul tries to sound commanding, but not aggressive.
Daryl knows he’s right but he doesn’t feel any less apprehensive, “Fine.” In the car, he lies on his side; Paul sits up, staring out the window, but he keeps one hand holding onto Daryl’s. It’s a bit much for Daryl, but he really doesn’t want to fuck this up with Paul.
Paul ends up falling asleep with his forehead pressed against the window. He jerks awake as a walker slams into the window. It beats its hands against the glass and growls, opening its mouth as if it could bite through the glass. He tries to work out the crick in his neck, then shakes Daryl awake.
“There’s a walker.”
Daryl’s half asleep as he mumbles, “So kill it, dumbass.”
“You wanted me to wake you up if something happened.” Paul tries to justify himself. Daryl groans at him. Paul starts the car and rolls the window down just enough that he can stab it in the head.
“It’s dead.” Paul offers.
“Good. ‘M goin’ back ta sleep.” Daryl shifts, pulling the blanket closer to him. Paul lays down next to him and steals part of the blanket.
“Asshole.”
“I’m cold. ”
“Whatever.”
-
“Let’s play a game.” Paul’s bored, he always is when they’re driving, especially when there’s no music or anything.
“I’m ain’t playin’ any games.” Daryl doesn’t look away from the road.
“I’m gonna give you a name and you’re gonna tell me if you’d kiss them.” Paul smirks.
“That’s a stupid fuckin’ game.”
“Then don’t think of it as a game,” Paul pauses, “Think of it as me continuing to help you figure things out.”
Daryl groans; Paul takes it as a signal to continue.
“Maggie.”
“She’s wi’ Glenn.”
“Yeah, but if she wasn’t.”
Daryl thinks about it for a second, she’s nice and soft and somehow always manages to smell good despite living in a world of complete chaos, “Yeah, I guess.”
“Okay, what about Carol?”
Daryl grimaces at the thought, “No. Fuck no.”
Paul bursts out laughing, Daryl continues, “I mean, I love her ta death, but that’s weird to think about.”
“Glenn?”
“Tha’s weird too. He’s more like a li’l brother, y’know?”
“Fair enough.” Paul gets a devious look in his eye before he says, “Rick.”
“I don’ think he’d be inta it.”
“I’m not asking about him, I’m asking about you.” Paul explains.
Daryl thinks about it, like he thought about Maggie. Rick has some pretty nice hands and it probably wouldn’t be all that bad to feel them cupping his face, and oh, this is awkward. And uncomfortable. And probably exactly what Paul wanted when he asked the question. He’s smirking at how long it’s taken Daryl to answer.
“Yeah.”
“Me too,” Paul sighs wistfully, “He’s really handsome. But not like you, you’re pretty. That’s why I’ve been callin’ you pretty boy.”
Pretty is 100% not a word Daryl would ever use to describe himself. There aren’t many positive words he’d use. Whenever he tries to describe himself, words like ‘fucked up’, ‘stupid’, or ‘weird’ come to mind.
“What about the scary girl, the one with the katana?” Paul’s question snaps him out of his thoughts.
“Michonne?”
“Yeah, her.”
“She’d prob’ly kill me. She’s sweet sometimes but she don’t trust anyone to touch her but Rick.”
“What about me?” Paul gives him a ridiculous puppy-dog-eyed look when Daryl turns to him.
“Yeah, I guess.” The response is a bit more casual than Daryl intended and Paul looks like he’s genuinely shocked at it. His open mouthed look of surprise shifted into a grin.
“Really?!” He’d be bouncing up and down right now if he wasn’t in a car. He’s not sure why he’s so excited about it, probably because it’s the first indication that Daryl was in fact enjoying all the flirting so far.
“Yeah.” Daryl shrugs, again taking both hands off the wheel and again scaring the shit out of Paul.
“I’m not gonna kiss you right now,” Paul starts, “Since you’re driving and that’s not a good idea. But some time. Eventually.”
“‘Kay.”
-
Daryl stops at the next spot on Rick’s list; it's more of an apartment complex than a neighborhood. They still have a few more hours of daylight, Paul gets out of the car with a duffel bag.
“I’m gonna go look around a bit, you can do whatever you want.” After saying it, Paul blows a kiss to Daryl, still in the driver’s seat, and Daryl can feel himself blushing. He waves back at Paul, who playfully swoons then takes off, always light on his feet.
He comes back just as it started getting dark, Daryl has already started a fire. Paul drops the bag on the ground and unzips it, pulling out a few pieces of clothing. He holds up the first one, a dark grey button-up.
“I thought you might like these,” Paul tosses the first shirt at Daryl, then throws another, and holds up a long sleeved jacket, “I don’t know if they’ll fit.”
Daryl picks up the jacket and stares down at it, “Thanks.” He shrugs off the vest, pulls on the jacket, and puts the vest back on. Paul’s still staring at him, smiling.
“Daryl Dixon,” he twirls his hair around his fingers nervously, “Can I kiss you?”
Daryl opens and shuts his mouth and he can feel his heart racing. Paul stays in place, waiting for a response. He finally gets his mind and his mouth to sync up enough for him to say yes. Paul scoots closer, close enough that he’s sitting next to Daryl. Paul presses his forehead against Daryl’s and stares directly into his eyes; it’s kind of disconcerting and Daryl almost pulls away. Then Paul closes his eyes, tilts his head, and kisses Daryl.
HIs lips are soft compared to Daryl’s, which are chapped and dry. His beard feels kind of strange against his face but it’s not entirely bad. Daryl’s hands are shaking, so he moves them up to Paul’s face, tangles them in his hair. Paul puts his hands on Daryl’s arms and pulls away slightly, face flushed and still very very close to Daryl’s. His hair’s fallen into his eyes and he tries to shake it out of the way without letting go of Paul.
“That was nice,” Paul’s the first to speak, “Really nice.”
Daryl’s still frozen in place, he starts panicking because this can’t be happening. Things like this don’t happen to guys like him . There’s gotta be some kind of angle, something he wants, some reason he’s doing this. He feels sick, ready to run but he can’t move.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Paul hasn’t moved at all and Daryl feels like shit because now he’s worried about him.
Paul’s eyes are wide and worried, “Was this too much? Too fast?”
“S’okay. ‘M okay.” Daryl moves away from Paul, who looks like he doesn’t believe him. His hands are still on Daryl’s arms and he’s contemplating running, but then Paul’ll just chase after him and he doesn’t want to be responsible for him getting hurt. Again, he feels like he owes it to Paul to be open.
“This feels wrong. Too good.” Daryl shakes his head.
“What can I do... To help?” Paul looks heartbroken and Daryl can’t bite back the feeling that he’s the reason and after everything he’s done he’s still fucking it up.
Daryl blinks because he can feel that he’s gonna start crying soon, “Yer just bein’ real nice an’ I don’ know why.”
“I’m being nice ‘cos I like you, idiot!” Paul laughs as he says it, like it should’ve been obvious, “Can I kiss you again?”
Daryl shakes his head, “Not righ’ now.”
Paul nods, “Wanna go to sleep?”
-
They’re lying in the back of the car, supplies moved up to the front passenger’s seat like usual. They’re close but not quite touching. Paul takes Daryl’s hand and lifts it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles.
“We’re gonna need to communicate if we want whatever this is to work out.” Paul’s voice is even, just stating a fact. Daryl grumbles something.
“I’m gonna be open with you, can you be open with me?” He’s still holding Daryl’s hand.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll go first. I like you, Daryl, a lot. And it’s kinda scary, especially in a world where people die all the time. But I don’t wanna not try it because it could go wrong.”
“I wanna try, too.” Daryl’s quiet, “But it’s hard, gettin’ close. I keep wantin’ to ruin it ‘cos it’s too damn good fer me.”
“You aren’t gonna ruin it. I won’t let you,” He’s smiling at him again.
-
Daryl wakes up with a start from some kind of faceless nightmare. He doesn’t remember what happened in it.
“Mornin’, pretty boy.” Paul’s eyes are bright, “I’ve been lying really still for hours because I didn’t want to wake you up.” Daryl’s suddenly aware that he’s holding onto Paul’s arm for dear life and their legs are intertwined.
“Sorry.” Daryl untangles himself.
“It’s okay. It was nice, I haven’t slept that well in a long time,” Paul thinks for a second before adding on, “You make me feel safe.”
They decide to forgo the apartment building and head straight ahead to the strip mall. It’s not far and they can probably make it in a day.
-
“Let’s make some rules.”
“Fer what?”
“For us.” Paul explains, “Rule number 1: no touching unless we ask if it’s okay first.”
“You’re gonna break that rule b’fore we even make it ta the mall.”
“I’m a work in progress.” Paul laughs, “Rule number 2: either of us can call a meeting at any time to talk about anything, and we have to tell the truth.”
Daryl nods, then adds, “Rule number 3: don’ tell anyone ‘bout us without talkin’ to me first.”
“Sounds good. Rule number 4: if I ever get bitten, you have to kill me. Don’t be that guy who can’t kill me ‘cos you love me.”
“Only if you’ll kill me,” Daryl grins at him, it’s morbid but that’s just the way things are now, “Rule number 5: no sayin’ ‘I love you’ just ‘cos we think we’re gonna die. If we’re gonna say it, it can’t be just ‘cos we’re scared.”
They drive in silence for a few minutes before Daryl asks, “How do we call a meetin’?”
“I guess we just ask for it.” Paul says, “Why? Do you wanna call one?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. What do you wanna talk about?”
Daryl takes a deep breath, “I was abused as a kid an’ it kinda fucked me up.” It’s the first time he’s said those words out loud. He’s thought about it more times than he can count, but he’s never said it, not even to Carol because she always just Knew. It feels good to say it out loud, even though he feels like he’s gonna start sobbing at any minute.
“That’s okay. We’re all kinda fucked up, now.”
“I’m tryna get better.”
Paul puts his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, “I’ll help, any way I can.”
Daryl wipes at his eyes with one hand, “Yer already breakin’ rule one.”
“Like I said, I’m a work in progress.”
-
They make it to the mall when it’s still bright out. It’s dark inside all of the shops, so they each take flashlights. The centerpiece of the stripmall is a little grocery store. The whole place smells like rot from all the decomposed fruit and meat. Paul pulls his bandana up and over his nose.
Daryl smirks at him, “So there is a reason why you wear that stupid thing.”
“Hey, it looks cool! ”
“Jus’ keep tellin’ yourself that.”
The canned food section is already pretty much raided, but a couple of things that people usually would try to avoid eating are left behind. Daryl grabs them, he knew Carol could probably make something with them. Paul drags him over to the candy section, one of the last places that people would think to raid.
“I haven’t had Skittles in fuckin’ AGES, Daryl!” Paul says as he picks up a fifth bag, “Plus, everyone’s gonna love me if I bring these home.”
“Everyone already loves you, idiot.” Daryl gives him a small smile.
“I’m flattered, Dixon!”
Still, Daryl helps with a couple bags of Starbursts and M&M’s. They load everything up in the car, then Paul steps back.
“There’s a bookstore over there, I’m gonna go look at it.”
Daryl gives him a look like ‘why are you telling me this’, but he doesn’t ask.
Paul puts on his best shit-eating grin and says, “Can I get a kiss for the road?” Daryl groans, then leans over and kisses Paul. He tucks Paul’s hair behind his ear as he does it and Paul runs his hands through Daryl’s hair.
Daryl pulls away, “That good enough for ya?”
“I think it’ll do for now.” Paul gives a little wave, then jogs off to the bookstore. Inside, he uses his flashlight to scan over the labels over the sections. He finds the one he wants, then scans the titles.
When he comes back to the car, Daryl’s sitting on the front of the car messing around with a crossbow bolt. Paul climbs up to sit next to him with the bag of books.
“What’d’ya get?”
Paul unzips the bag and pulls out a few, “I wanted to help but I didn’t know what you’d need so I kind of grabbed them all.” They’re self help books, with overly tacky covers and titles like ‘Overcoming Trauma’ or ‘Conquering Abuse’. It’s a weirdly domestic gesture and it makes the hair on the back of Daryl’s neck stand up.
“It’s really cheesy, I know, but I also don’t know anything about this kinda thing and I want to help.”
Daryl sets the books back down in the bag and hugs Paul as tight as he can. Daryl can see tears in his eyes even though he’s smiling.
“Now you’re breaking rule one!” he gives a nervous laugh.
“Let’s sleep here.” Daryl says, still holding onto Paul, “No use headin’ back t’night.”
“Okay. Okay.”
That night, Paul sleeps sitting up, leaning against Daryl as he watches for walkers around the car.
-
The next morning, they set out for Alexandria. The way back is a straight shot and Daryl feels sick. It’s hard to pinpoint the cause of the anxiety; he keeps his eyes out but nothing catches him off guard while they’re driving. Paul’s quieter than usual and it puts him a bit on edge.
“What’re we gonna do?”
“About what?”
Daryl drums his fingers on the steering wheel, “When we get home. You’re goin’ back to Hilltop.”
“You could come with me.” Paul smiles a bit at the suggestion.
“Nah, my family’s in Alexandria. They need me there.”
Paul pouts at him, “I’d come stay in Alexandria but I think Rick’s still bitter about the truck. He only let me out on this run ‘cos Gregory made him.”
“He’d listen to me.” Daryl sounds almost desperate.
“Gregory would destroy Hilltop without me.” Paul laughs, “I’m surprised the people haven’t revolted already.”
“It’s gonna be weird. Bein’ alone after this.” Daryl sounds quiet and sad.
“We’re not back there yet. I’ll visit you, and you can visit me.” Paul watches for a change in Daryl’s expression then asks, “You wanna hold hands?”
Daryl doesn’t answer, just takes one hand off the wheel and presents it to Paul. When it starts getting dark, he lets go for a second to take his boots off, put his feet up on the dashboard, and pull his beanie down over his eyes. He grabs back onto Daryl’s hand and actually manages to fall asleep this time.
-
When he reaches Alexandria, he flashes his headlights three times to signal the people on watch. Daryl drops Paul’s hand, not ready to answer the questions that would come with it. Sasha rolls the gate open and waves him in.
“Welcome back,” she smiles, “I see the dickhead’s asleep.”
Daryl just smirks at her and continues into Alexandria. He stops the car outside of Olivia’s house for her to inventory it all and split it between her stores and Hilltop. She’s asleep and Daryl isn’t going to be an asshole and wake her up, so he just turns the car off. She’ll find it in the morning and no one’s gonna try to steal anything from it without incurring the wrath of Rick. Paul’s still out cold in the passenger’s seat. Daryl opens the other door as quietly as he can and tucks one arm under Paul’s legs and the other one behind his back, then lifts him up bridal style. He turns towards his house, then kicks the car door shut behind him.
His house isn’t far from here and Paul is surprisingly light, to the point that Daryl would be concerned if he wasn’t trying his hardest not to drop the dead weight of a sleeping man. He’s halfway to his porch when he realizes that Paul isn’t actually asleep anymore. His breathing’s faster than it usually is when he’s asleep and he swears he saw Paul smile more than once.
“I know you’re awake, asshole.”
Paul opens his eyes slowly and blinks, feigning innocence, “How romantic! ”
“I should drop you right now.”
“But you won’t.” Paul flashes his signature shit-eating grin, “Because you love me.”
Daryl doesn’t have a response to that; Paul laughs at his silence, then loops his arms around Daryl’s neck. Daryl sets him down, much to Paul’s dismay, when he reaches the front door. He fishes the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door. Inside, he takes his boots off and leaves them at the doorway, a habit drilled into him by Michonne.
“Everyone else’s asleep, be quiet.”
“Quiet. Got it.” Paul grabs onto his hand and lets Daryl lead him through the dark house.
He swears to God that Daryl can see in the dark or something. Daryl’s room is ridiculously impersonal, it’s up in the attic and the only furnishing is a mattress on the floor piled up with blankets. Still, it’s better than the back of a car and it’s Daryl’s so he really doesn’t have anything to say.
He flops face down on the mattress, “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
Daryl takes off his jacket and throws it on the floor then joins him on the bed. He pulls the blankets up and over them and Paul wraps his arms around Daryl’s waist. Daryl wants to say something, but Paul’s already asleep again. He can feel his breath on the back of his neck, the repetition is calming and the pressure of Paul’s arms around his waist is unbelievably grounding, so he closes his eyes and falls asleep too.