Daryl's Lass

A/N: This is my first ever story, of any kind. It's a Daryl/OC with a somewhat AU. I hope you like it, and willing to review. Enjoy! :-)

"Jesus fucking Christ"!

Swinging around he brought the crossbow down in a jerk, a racked bolt aimed in a deadly spot at her.

Just as fast as he had aimed it, he jerked it back up, eyes wide.

"The fuck was that Mac?!" Daryl yelled. "I almost put a bolt right between your damn eyes girl!"

Mac just stared at him.

"Oh."

"My".

"God".

Mac had finally found Daryl Dixon's weakness, one she didn't think existed. It was worth the almost-head shot.

"You are ticklish!"

Mac had been heading towards the woods and came upon Daryl standing there, looking out into the distance, crossbow in his hand, when he lifted both arms up and back, stretching his back out. His sides exposed. The irrational, and obviously deadly, thought came to her to sneak up and grab his sides to see if he was sensitive there.

She really hadn't realized the bow was loaded, or she probably wouldn't have done it. But his reaction to it was priceless and worth the threat.

For months she had been trying to find his one weakness, the one thing the uber badass couldn't deal with. She had made it her mission to find it. Bad singing hadn't fazed him, gross jokes, leaving her clothes all over the place – stupid, childish things. She had begun to think he might possibly be ticklish when by accident one day she tapped his exposed side with her dirk and he jumped. She hadn't been able to tell if she just surprised him, or if there was more to it.

So she had made it her destiny at that point to get to his sides again to see. Each time she was deftly prevented from her goal by smooth moves on his part to get out of the way. She had even tried tickling his feet one night. It was hot as hell out and it was one of the rare times he had fallen asleep in only his pants. No shirt, shoes or socks. Unfortunately he'd had his arms folded around himself tightly. So she opted for his feet, but had been rewarded only with a cracked eye and raised eyebrow.

Daryl glared at her, resting his crossbow, deadly-side down, on the ground.

Mac clamped her mouth shut, but couldn't help it. She started laughing, and laughing hard.

"Oh my gawd, Daryl Dixon, walker killer extraordinaire, can be brought down by a wee tickle!" she croaked out amidst her guffaws. She finally started to catch her breath, then snorted, and started all over again.

She laughed her way all along the road back to camp.

Daryl stood on the opposite side of the gathering, glaring at Mac. For her part, Mac had a big shit-eating grin for him. Rick was talking, and she was half paying attention to him and half non-verbally gloating at Daryl.

Throughout Rick's meeting discussing the state of camp's remaining supplies, Mac made a point to make direct eye contact with Daryl, a smile here, a wink there.

Carol poked her elbow into Mac's side. "MacKenzie Douglas you better be careful. That man looks ready to storm over here and flatten you. What did you do to the poor thing?"

"Who me?" Nice, big innocent look on her face, Mac batted her eyelashes at Carol.

Carol widened her eyes, "oh boy, I don't know if I should find a safe area or make popcorn and get ready for a show", she chuckled. They both looked over at Daryl, who sighed and dropped his head.

When the meeting was finally over, everyone headed back to their areas. Mac had a lookout shift coming up. She had her dirk on her but wanted her other blade.

Daryl came up along side her, knocking into her arm with his elbow.

"So I guess you think you the shit now ey". Mac looked at him sideways. He had a scowl, but if she wasn't mistaken, there was a bit of a humorous glint in his eye.

"Oh I don't think laddie, I know".

Daryl snorted, then gave her a small grin.

"Come on girly, go get your sword, we gotta check the perimeter again."

Mac gave him a cheeky grin and ran off to her tent to retrieve her short sword. Daryl stood and waited, smiling to himself. Little brat had finally caught him. He had to prepare for her "cat-got-the-bird" attitude that he was certain she would milk for all it was worth.

Carol walked past him, head down with that small smile of hers, heading to her tent, and Daryl could have sworn he heard a soft chuckle.

They hiked in comfortable silence, each one focused on the area around them, staying alert for anything threatening, undead or otherwise. Daryl kept his eyes open for signs of game as well. It had been a while since the group had had fresh meat. It seemed like game was getting scarce, whether it was from being hunted, falling prey to walkers or just moving on, he wasn't sure.

"Even the damn squirrels are gone" he mumbled.

"We don't find no food soon, Rick's gonna have to move camp again."

Mac nodded. "Aye. Jerky's getting low. Canned goods are thinning out as well."

Daryl stopped, chewing on his lip. He turned and studied Mac, thinking.

"We need to make another run. But we're gonna hafta go further out".

Mac nodded her agreement. The last few runs had turned up a paltry amount of supplies. They had cleaned out just about every little house and town around the area. But supplies were definitely starting to get low. They desperately needed to stock up on food, first aid supplies and if they could, clothes and blankets for the upcoming winter. Their last run they had traveled a day and a half out each way. They would need to go further. It was risky on two counts, risky for the two of them to be away from the safety of the camp for that long, and risky for the camp to be without two of their best fighters.

"You up for it woman?" Daryl said, his southern accent nice and thick.

Mac just snorted at him, "like you need to ask".

Daryl smacked her on the ass and swaggered off with a "that's my girl" thrown over his shoulder.

Mac considered throwing her dirk at the chauvinistic pig, but reconsidered.

"Off with ye you git!" she yelled back. Daryl looked back over his shoulder and winked at her. "Come on girl, get those little legs moving!"

Back at the main camp site, Glen and Maggie were sitting together, and watched as Daryl came out of the woods, striding towards camp. Mac wasn't too far behind, flipping her dirk in her hand with calculating looks at Daryl's back.

"Is it just me, or does Daryl almost have a smile on his face?" Maggie asked. Glen nodded. "Yeah, ever since we picked Mac up he seems a bit different. Still Daryl, but, well, different". Maggie agreed, "almost happy". The rest of the group had noticed as well that Daryl seemed a little more even since Mac's arrival. Still gruff and tough, but not so self conscious. He seemed more comfortable lately.

As Daryl approached he schooled his face into his usual stony look. "Wassup Short Round" and he kept walking.

Glen sighed. "Or maybe he hasn't changed at all."