Summary:
It started kind of small. A few packets of cigarettes and the odd bottle of whiskey being left on the porch with his name written on a dirty pink post it note and a smiley face. Daryl hadn't really taken much notice of them, throwing the first couple out into the trash with a pointed look at whoever was walking by that morning.
Hoping that whoever it was would get the message. That it would stop. It didn't.
The courting Rituals of Dead men
It started kind of small. A few packets of cigarettes and the odd bottle of whiskey being left on the porch with his name written on a dirty pink post it note and a smiley face. Daryl hadn't really taken much notice of them, throwing the first couple out into the trash with a pointed look at whoever was walking by that morning.
Hoping that whoever it was would get the message, that the gifts would stop.
It didn't work, when he woke up the next morning there was a bottle of brandy on the seat of his motorcycle, the same bright pink post it note with his name scribbled but no smiley face, just a frown and a question mark at the end.
He'd promptly screwed the note up in the palm of his hand and dumped the bottle into the trash, glaring at the empty street just in case whoever it was were still lingering around in the shadows.
On the third week he received a bouquet of flowers and that seemed to piss him off even more, the smokes and the booze were fair enough he'd been known to partake in both occasionally but flowers?
Glaring at the pink post it note he snatched it up and read it quickly. 'I'll try something a little more traditional then.' It read with a smiley face on the end and Daryl glared at it as though by sheer force alone it'd shrivel up and burn in the palm of his hand.
It didn't.
It was made even worse when Jesus of all people cracked a joke about Daryl having a secret admirer. He'd thrown the flowers at him and stomped back up the steps—the post it note shoved in his pocket.
The next day there was a box of chocolates on the steps and another post it note. He shoved the chocolates in his bag and the post it note in his pocket with the other. Didn't even think about them again until he was cooped up in the car with Paul, Jesus' stomach growling and Daryl had shoved the box under his nose and bitched about the situation as they scouted the area.
Paul had laughed at him before shoving a chocolate into his mouth.
There was another bottle of whiskey a week or two later. The same garish post it note and Daryl wondered if it was the same bottle that he'd tossed out all those weeks ago and if not where it was all coming from.
'Drink responsibly. Or get pissed and come to mine.' The post it read and despite himself Daryl smirked in amusement.
He didn't throw it out this time instead he took it in—took off the post it and left it on the side for Rick and Michonne for their date night. Lord knows the two of them could use a little liquid lubrication these days.
He hid out on Paul's porch with a bottle of beer that night.
It was almost a month before he received anything else, Rick had made a teasing comment about him sulking and Daryl had punched him in the arm as a warning. Rick could barely breath through his laughter especially when he caught sight of the notes in Daryl's pocket.
'You better apricate these, I almost lost an arm and let's be honest I might need that when you pull your head out of your ass.' The post it note read in neat capitals, sat on a bouquet of polished crossbow bolts.
The makeshift sling on Paul's left arm that night as they were making plans with Rick and Aaron didn't escape Daryl's notice. He didn't say anything, pushed it to the back of his mind as coincidental and tried not to think about it.
'Sorry to hear about your crash. Next time I'll be there to kiss it better if you want? Or laugh.' Daryl read, shaking his head as he lifted the new exhaust almost two weeks later.
He ignored the way Paul came over to sit on Aarons porch when Daryl fitted it to his bike.
'A little bird told me that you have a sweet tooth. You can taste mine one night if you want? If not I'm sure these can tide you over.' Daryl flushed slightly, quickly snatching it from Carols hand as her brow lifted and she looked at the basket of cookies with a knowing smirk.
Daryl didn't dare sit with the rest of the group that night at dinner, instead he picked at the cookies and grumbled over what a mess his life had suddenly become.
'Winters coming and as cute as you would look with a red nose, I thought better of myself. Stay warm.' Daryl had re-read it several times, wetting his lips every so often as he squeezed the woolly gloves in his pocket.
Trying not to remember Paul squirrelling an identical pair into his pocket just three days ago.
The next present wasn't even for him.
'I know that family is important to you so I got you something that you could all enjoy.' The note read and Daryl looked at the beaten-up DVD player and stack of films. They were common in most of the homes in Alexandria but Daryl didn't think any of them would ever have the luxury of crowding around a film.
He tried to be as casual as possible when he invited Paul to join them.
'I wrapped this one to avoid embarrassment. There's a part of me that hopes you hate it but if not as least I know you'll be getting rid of some of that tension.' Daryl daren't open it on the porch but as he lifted the post it note he caught the blind in Paul's kitchen twitch.
It was porn. Seen better days' porn with a printed out cover and the seediest stains Daryl had ever seen. There was a busty woman on the cover with her legs parted and her arms above her head as he licked her lips in what Daryl imagined was supposed to be suggestive.
He pointedly kept his eyes on Paul's kitchen window as he dumped it in the trash before going back inside.
'Okay, so the last one may have been a bit crass. Just to double check though.' Daryl's face practically ignited as he peeled the note away from the cover of a surprisingly tasteful gay magazine.
This time he glared at Pauls kitchen window but didn't throw it out.
At least not until he got to Aaron and Eric's that night. At least in their trash it wouldn't look so out of place.
There was nothing after that for what felt like forever; in the past, the lack of notes had coincided with Paul going out on a run but this time Paul hadn't left Alexandria in weeks and there hadn't been any notes or gifts either.
Daryl had started to think that he'd gotten it wrong and it had been a subconscious hope that made it look as though Paul had been the culprit.
It was a week later as he was about to climb into the seat of Ricks car that he spotted the flash of pink tucked just underneath the passenger seat. Ignoring the smug look on Ricks face as he fished it out and turned away with a glare.
'I'm free tonight if you are. – P.' It read and Daryl swallowed thickly as he looked between the post it note and string of condoms in his hand.
He promptly shoved them in his pocket when he felt Ricks eyes on his back.
He made sure to smuggle a bottle of wine and a stack of green post it notes in his bag when they stopped on the way back. A loud fuck you thrown over his shoulder at Rick when he lifted his brow and made a comment about him being soppy.
Pointedly ignoring all of Ricks cheesy suggestions as he wrote his own post it note.
It was late by the time they pulled up onto the side-walk home. Pauls house in darkness and Daryl thought back to his wishful thinking only a week ago. He'd make himself look an idiot if he'd gotten it wrong but if he'd got it right….
Daryl licked his lips and swallowed. If he'd got this right everything was going to change and despite the nagging in the back of his mind Daryl knew that it would be for the better. That he'd welcome the change.
Shoving his post it notes on the bottle of wine Daryl set it on Paul's porch and rang the bell.
Barely a second had passed before Paul opened the door—clad in his pyjamas and his hair tied up in a bun. The wide eyes and beaming smile almost evidence enough that Paul had been waiting for them. For him.
Daryl gestured down to the bottle and like a teenage girl at prom he fidgeted and moved with nerves as Paul kept his eyes on Daryl and picked it up, looking away only to read the florescent green post it notes.
'So, I ain't good at this kind of shit and I'm hoping that I ain't got the wrong end of the stick and it's you that's been sending me all this crap. Which I don't need. If it's not and I'm making a fool of myself just keep it yer self. If it is though and I ain't. I can be free every night if you me to be. Condoms or not.' Paul read.
"I don't want you to be free every night." Paul started and Daryl felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "I want you to be taken, by me. Every night and every day until one us becomes a Walker and even then, I want us to be that weird couple that stays together." He carried on, moving forward to lay his hands on Daryl's hips. "I want this to be an us."
"I want that too." Daryl admitted.
For several weeks after Daryl and Paul opened their doors to bright pink and green post it notes and silly little trinkets that they'd found while on the road. Grinning and laughing at each other between kisses and heated looks.
And Daryl never wanted it to stop.