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minervadashwood · 2 years

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Scars and Stitches, Ch. 15: Quiet Comfort

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Series Masterlist | Masterlist

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Summary: More training, followed by some pillowtalk. Warnings: the usual: walkers

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“Because you believed I was capable of behaving decently, I did.” ― Paulo Coelho, The Devil and Miss Prym

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For a while, both of you had forgotten all about your walker audience You eventually stood and helped Daryl up.

He went to his discarded vest, and from its inside breast pocket, he took out a nylon rope that had been knotted in a way you’d never seen before. Dropping the vest once again, he stood in front of you with a half-smile that seemed frozen on his face. Just gazing at him had your belly full of butterflies again, but you did your best to focus.

Daryl reached to your hip and took out your knife. Then he threaded one loose end of the braid through the hole in the knife’s handle.

“Hol’ out your hand,” he said, and you did.

Daryl loped the braid around your wrist and tucked the knife handle in your palm, and you gripped it just like he’d taught you. With a few adjustments, Daryl tied off the ends of the rope. Then he slid the knife and rope away from you. Using his own knife, he cut away the extraneous ends of the rope, and then he melted the remaining end pieces with a lighter.

Taking the blade back from him, you put on the bracelet and gripped your knife, immediately realizing the bracelet added another dimension to your hold on the handle, offering you more leverage and keeping it in place.

Remembering Rick’s teasing you about the knife being an engagement ring, you blushed. “Always wanted a charm bracelet,” you joked to hide your embarrassment.

Daryl snorted, then got back on task. “Time to put all that practice to work,” he said. “If you feel ready?”

You nodded, taking in how gentle his eyes seemed to be as he watched you. It was like your kiss had chipped away his rough exterior, allowing something softer to take its place.

Daryl led you to the first walker. As you approached, the dead things’ frenzy for flesh intensified. But you were not afraid, not this time. Distantly you realized why Daryl made you practice all afternoon with walkers so close: their sounds and smells had become part of the environment, and you were used to them.

Daryl stilled you with a hand on your shoulder. Then, he took a few steps closer to the walker and mimed different ways you could use your knife to kill it.

“Be careful when pullin’ out the knife,” he warned. “The bone’ll be jagged.”

You nodded and he stepped just off to the side, giving you a clear path to your prey. You approached the walker, and, using all the leverage you’d learn to harness, stabbed the blade through its skull. The walker went still immediately. However, like Daryl had warned, the knife was harder coming out than going in. Still, the bracelet helped, giving you a stronger pull on the blade.

“Good,” Daryl said. “Now practice on that one a few more times. Get the feel of it.”

You did, trying out different angles and positions, getting a better understanding of how to move your body and how to recover your blade. The smallest part of you was disgusted, horrified even, but you were getting used to thinking of walkers as the monsters they were, not the people they had been.

When you finally stopped, you breathed heavily, but were surprisingly calm as Daryl put a gentle hand on your head and kissed your temple.

“Next one’s going to be trickier,” he said, “but I won’t let nothin’ happen to you.”

“I trust you.”

With a curt nod, he went to the second walker and untied the rope around its hands. Immediately, the walker started reaching for him, but Daryl dodged away easily. Then he walked about five feet away and readied his crossbow, sights trained on the walker.

“Your turn,” he said, eyes looking down the sight.

You breathed through the small bit of fear coursing through you. This fear was manageable and useful, making you alert and ready. Besides, you knew exactly what to do, and Daryl would make sure you were completely safe. The walker was already grasping for you as you inched forward. When you were within its reach, your body moved just how you needed it to, dodging to the outside, elbow shoving its arm away from you, then thrusting your knife into its skull.

“That’s my girl,” Daryl said, putting away his crossbow. “One more.” He led you away from the final walker, and briefly held your hand. “This time, we’ll work together, but you take the kill, if you can.”

With a gulp, you nodded.

Daryl used his knife to hastily slice through all the ropes, completely freeing the walker. He scrambled back away from it and took his stance beside you. Your body took over, finding your center. By the time the walker reached you, it was easy to predict its movements. You moved right and Daryl moved left. You wasted no time slamming your elbow into the shoulder blade of the walker, throwing it off balance, then you were behind it and stabbing its skull before it could recover. Daryl caught the walker in mid fall, giving you a chance to take out your knife.

He let the walker hit the ground. “You did good, darlin’,” he told you, smirking and gazing down at you.

“Thanks,” you whispered, both proud of yourself and enchanted by his beautiful blue eyes.

After a moment, Daryl dragged his gaze away from yours and retrieved your crossbow.

For the rest of the evening, you practiced shooting your crossbow at the two walkers still tied to trees. Neither you nor Daryl could stop yourselves from stealing longing glances and quick kisses from time to time.

That night, after you changed in the spare tent—wearing your shorts, tank top, and a comfortable sports bra—you went to the tent you shared with Daryl.

He’d just cleaned up, his natural musk more potent than the smell of forest and leather, and you loved simply sharing this space with him. Gone was the tension that had been eating you up the past few days, and in its place was the natural high of feeling wanted and desired by someone you deeply cared for.

Daryl wore some loose-fitting pants and a clean tank top. He seemed to have an aversion to shorts, despite his mistrust of long sleeves. This was a new look on him, and you enjoyed the more casual visage: elastic waistband slung low on his hips, tank top just barely long enough to cover his torso so that a sliver of his abdomen was visible. The way he held himself was also different, his shoulders were more relaxed, and gone was his semipermanent scowl.

You couldn’t stop yourself from stalking toward him and hugging him. With your chin on his chest, you gazed up at him, and not a second later he was kissing you softly. You melted into him, trusting his strong arms to keep you upright. After such a long time of yearning for him, you no longer had to wait and hope. He was here, on your mouth, wrapped around you, ready and willing for whatever you offered him.

After a few moments of kissing, Daryl put some space between you. “Ya want me to sleep on the floor? Don’ wanna pressure you to share a bed after everythin’.”

You trusted Daryl wholly, however, you also did not want to pressure him. “I don’t mind if we keep things as they were, but if you want to sleep separately, we can.”

“I like sleepin’ beside ya,” he mumbled, his cheeks a deep red.

“When I—" you took a deep breath to control your overwhelming emotions. “When I’m sleeping next to you, I feel safe and…cared for. It’s my favorite place to be.”

“It is?”

You nodded.

“You ain’t been sleepin’ beside me just ‘cause I made ya? Took all your blankets and stuff and moved ‘em in here?”

You furrowed your brow. “Lots of times I could have gone and slept somewhere else, I guess. But the thought never crossed my mind, honestly. And now that we’re…together, it would seem weird to sleep without you.”

He stared at the floor of the tent. “Together, huh? I ain’t never done somethin’ like this before.”

“I haven’t, either.”

He glanced up at you, eyes full of questions. “Had to be people before me.”

You shook your head. “I liked some people here and there, but I can count them on one hand, and it was never something I pursued. With you, it’s different.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Hell, Daryl, I never even kissed anyone before today.”

Daryl squinted at you, his nostrils flaring. “You ain’t never kissed no one before? Just me?”

You nodded. “It must sound silly, at my age.”

“’s not silly,” he mumbled. “I only done it once. Merle made me fu—sleep with a…professional he hired.”

“He made you?”

“He said I needed it.”

What the hell? Fuck Merle. Really, the man could rot in hell.

“Merle made you sleep with a sex worker? When you didn’t want to?”

He shrugged, blushing and shamefaced. “I never felt like doin’ it again. Guess it wasn’t for me.”

“You know, we don’t have to have sex at all, if you don’t want to.”

Daryl threw you a smirk, “Oh, I want to. I like ya. I care about ya. The more I get to know you, the more I want ya.”

You tilted your head, a smile playing at your lips. “Daryl, you know there’s a word for that, right? You’re not…broken or anything.”

His eyes flitted to yours, full of doubt.

You said, “Like me, some people are demisexual. We only feel sexual attraction after we’ve developed a close bond with another person. I can still look at people and find them beautiful or handsome, but not sexy. But sometimes when I get close with someone, I do think of them that way.”

Daryl’s nostrils flared again. “And you feel that way ‘bout me?”

“Yeah. Is that…how it happened for you? With me?”

Daryl threaded his hands through your hair. “I jus’ wanted to keep ya safe, at first. And then when you was alone, I wanted to be next to ya. Then I wanted to be with you all the damn time.”

He kissed you, tender and desperate, and it had you aching with joy and affection.

Eventually, he rested his forehead on yours. “Now I just want ya. I want everythin’.”

You put your hand on his chest. “I feel the same way about you.”

His hands moved to hold your shoulders. “You sure?” he whispered.

“Never been surer in my life.”

“There ain’t no rush, you know,” he said. “You take all the time you need.”

“Same goes for you.”

He gave you a half smile. Without speaking he walked you backward to the bed and moved aside the covers before urging you under them. He slid in next to you, and pulled the covers over you both, blocking out the slight chill in the air.

He didn’t hold you close, but he did hold your hand, resting it in the small space between you.

“Somethin’ we gotta talk about,” he said, voice low and serious. “Rick tole me about you wantin’ to go to that high school.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Hershel was being all passive aggressive about medical supplies, and I thought maybe we should do something to get in his good graces. What do you think?”

“Goin’ there didn’t turn out so good for Otis.”

You had considered this but had a counterpoint. “Remember when you and I snuck our way through Atlanta? Maybe we’d do better, quiet-like.”

“I went down there the other day, after Rick tole me what you wanted to do. Place is all fenced in, we get cornered and that’s it.”

“Oh.” You imagined walkers trapping you and Daryl, him trying to protect you and dying in the process. “Not worth the risk.”

“Maybe if we found some way to lead all those walkers outta there, but either way, I ain’t lettin’ you get near the place.”

“Daryl…”

“I ain’t tryin’ to control you, darlin’, I just need you to be careful, for my sake.”

You nodded. “Right back at you.”

Daryl sighed and grew tense beside you. “Pretty sure Shane an Otis did get cornered out there. Way Shane tells it, Otis said he would cover ‘im, but when Shane got back, he had Otis’s gun.”

“That doesn’t make sense. How could Otis cover Shane if Shane had his gun.?”

In a low rumble, he said, “That’s ‘cause Shane was lyin’. Wasn’t walkers that got Otis. Shane killed ‘im.”

You recalled your interactions with Shane since coming to the farm. He had seemed better in some ways, and you’d chalked up his skittishness to losing Otis, not to having killed the man. Sometimes, you felt like Shane was even looking out for you, encouraging you or giving you a kind word about all you did for the group.

Still, you couldn’t deny how anxious you felt around him. Until now you assumed it was your dormant anxiety disorder flaring up, but maybe your intuition had caught on to something you hadn’t consciously realized yet.

You said, “I’ve been around him a lot more lately. First with Carl being hurt, then talking with him and Rick. This morning he was teaching me how to shoot with the others. But he makes me nervous.”

Daryl let go of your hand and gripped your shoulder. “Don’t go near him if you can help it. ‘Specially if I’m not around.” His voice was sharp and full of worry.

You nodded. “Is it alright if I’m with Rick? Sometimes he likes to take walks with me and Shane.”

“Rick’s alright,” Daryl conceded. “I know he’ll make sure nothin’ happens to ya.”

“But what do we do about Shane? I’m not the only person at risk here. There’s Lori. Not to mention Carol and Sophia. Are they safe?”

Daryl furrowed his brow, momentarily lost in thought. “He needs to go. I don’t know how, but he’s a tickin’ time bomb.”

“We can’t just…kill him. And it’s not like there’s a way to lock him up to pay for his crimes. What if everyone thinks it was for the better? Because Otis almost killed a little boy, Rick’s son. What if Shane was really choosing Carl or Otis? Would any of us have done it differently? Maybe he wasn’t wrong to do it, maybe we’re safe because he’s with us. Or maybe only Carl and Rick are safe. What if—”

You were getting worked up thinking of it all, practically vibrating with uncertainty.

“Shh,” Daryl said, pulling him to you, cradling you to his chest.

You forced yourself to slow your breathing, reminding yourself that nothing had changed. You simply knew something you didn’t before. Once you calmed yourself, with the help of Daryl’s gentle hold on you—you got an idea. Dale. You would talk to Dale. He’d know what to do.

Daryl took a deep breath. “You don’t gotta have an answer. Don’t think they’d believe me, anyhow.”

“Why not?” you asked, your arm snaked around his waist, and you lightly grabbed the back of his tank top.

He sighed. “Before you came, things wasn’t too good between us an’ them. Merle runnin’ his mouth all the time, getting’ high and hittin’ on the women. Tryin’ to pick fights over stupid shit. After supply runs, he tried taking all the good stuff for me ‘n’ ‘im. He said they owed us. I let m’self believe he was right.”

You pulled slightly away to look at him. “Was he really that bad?”

“Worse. His plan was to rob ‘em blind. Only reason I stopped ‘im is ‘cause there were kids. I couldn’t do that.”

“Oh, Daryl.”

Daryl threaded his hand in your hair. “I don’t know why you wanna be with someone like me. Ain’t no good for ya,” he whispered.

Your gut reaction was to protest that notion vehemently, but this was delicate ground. Gradually you were piecing together the sort of relationship he and Merle had, and it was increasingly obvious Merle had emotionally abused Daryl their whole lives. When you were a kid, even at the worst times, you’d at least had your brother. Daryl didn’t even have that. But how could you begin to explain the complicated dynamics of abuse? While Daryl was responsible for his own actions, incessant emotional abuse was akin to brainwashing.

You let go of his tank top and began rubbing soothing circles on the small of his back. As gently as you could, you said, “I’m sure Merle cares about you in his own way, but maybe he raised you without seeing who you really are. I may not have known you before he left, but I know who you are now. You’re selfless and brave, compassionate and smart. Maybe Merle never took the time to value all that.”

Daryl was quiet a moment. “He’s the only family I got. He’s blood.”

You stilled your hand and gazed up at him. “That doesn’t mean you’re alone. I’ve been where you are, Daryl, and I found my way out. You will, too.”

He held you tightly against him. “Makes me want to go after anyone who ever hurt ya,” he said. “Your folks. Shane. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You kissed the bare skin just above his shirt. You whispered, “Neither did you.”

You hoped someday he would believe it.

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Notes:

The bracelet/knife combo at work. Since I have COVID, I haven’t been able to write much all week because I’m simply too tired to think clearly. Writing this story takes lots of planning and careful pacing. This likely means I may not able to update Thursday or next Monday I’m very sorry about that. Because they are short and simple, I can write oneshots, drabbles, etc. They don’t take much planning/critical thinking for me. I’m open to requests here or on tumblr (anon is on, so don't be shy!). Thanks for your patience and I hope to be back to my regular posting schedule in week or two. As always thanks to those of you who leave comments, and like or reblog!

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