Hello everyone! I'm back again with these two, but this time with a special AU idea that I got after watching a movie (thing is, I can't even remember which one...). Anyway, I really needed to write Paul as a nurse, and it is now done. Also, it's a little different from the way I usually write, and I hope you'll like it.

This work will have multiple chapters, I don't know exactly how many but I'm guessing around 5, although I do not know when each chapter will be published because it all depends on the work I'll have to do for uni and at work (but I will try to be as fast as possible!).

Please let me know what you think of it, even if you hated it, it really helps finding the motivation to write and publish! All mistakes are mine, English isn't my first language and I hope it won't be too horrible to read.

Have a nice day! xx

It had started as a bad day, from the very beginning. First of all, when his boss had called him and announced that he should cover his coworker's shift, when all he wanted to do was to catch up on the sleep he had lost in the last few days. Plus, he never liked working in that bar anyway. It payed the bills, of course, but if his stupid brother hadn't stolen shit and ended up in prison, he wouldn't have to work 10 hours a day to be able to survive in his shitty apartment. But again, it payed the bills.

But, as if it wasn't enough, he had to end up in the middle of a bar fight. He got beaten up, and bled all over the floor that he would have to wash later. Nice. And of course his boss had sent him to the hospital, because it turned out that his wound was more severe than he had thought. So there he was, waiting in an hospital bed while clutching at his right side, where the knife wound was bleeding and straining his clothes. Great.

He seriously thought he was gonna bleed out right here, right now, when the curtain allowing him a little bit of privacy was opened and a nurse walked to the bed.

Daryl blinked rapidly a few times, startled.

Alright, maybe he was a little bit old fashioned, but he had been expecting a woman. With a fake smile and cold fingers, that would probe at his wound and tell him kindly but coldly to go home because she had better things to do. But right in front of him stood a young man, much more different that he had imagined. His soft features were outlined by a well trimmed beard, and his long (very long) hair were raised in a neat bun that didn't let any strands of hair fall down his neck or around his face. He looked beautiful, Daryl had to admit that.

His homosexuality wasn't a new revelation, he had known for a while, actually. Of course his family didn't know, his dad had already beaten the shit out of him enough without knowing that his son was a fag. His mom had died in a car accident when he was just a kid, and Merle… Well, Merle knew. He was acting like a dick mostly because of that, Daryl was sure, while at the same time choosing to close his eyes on the matter.

Still, it was embarrassing to feel his dick twitch with attention when he laid eyes on the young -damnit, Dixon, way too young for you- man. He tried to adjust his jeans without the other man noticing, and finally, after what felt like an awkward long time; the nurse looked up at him.

Damnit. Now, the kid had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen in his life. And Daryl might as well be falling in love right here and then, because the young man smiled to him and he started wondering if he could ask him to marry him yet.

"Daryl Dixon? Hey, I'm Paul. But some people call me Jesus."

What?

"So you ended up stabbed in a bar fight, is that right?" asked Paul again, (no way he was calling this man Jesus, okay) looking at Daryl's wound with a serious look.

He looked even cuter when he was frowning. This entire thing had to stop.

"Huh, yeah" he rasped, cursing himself for his unsteady voice. "I was working, actually. And these two guys started throwing punches, and… well."

He shrugged, and Paul smiled again, putting his file on the little table near the bed.

"You had to play the hero, isn't it?"

No, he wasn't going to smile back at the man. No, he definitely wasn't.

"Had to start my career somewhere" he replied with a smirk. "Thought the bar could be a great idea."

This time, Paul laughed. A full, throaty laugh, that made him look even more beautiful.

"Daryl, I might start to like you."

It wasn't socially acceptable to ask someone you barely met to marry you, right?

"Yeah, well, I'd start to like you as well if you, you know… stopped the bleeding, somehow?"

"I might as well do that, yeah" replied Paul with a smile. " Let me get the things I need, okay?"

He was back in no time, and Daryl was happy enough to watch him gather his instruments with extra care. He only had to disinfect the wound and stitch it, and after injecting Daryl with a light anesthetic, he got to work with precision.

"Tell me if it still hurts a bit, okay?" Paul broke the silence, looking up at the older man with a warm smile.

The redneck shrugged.

"Or you can keep playing tough, too" teased the nurse, still smiling.

"Man, you ever stop talking?" asked Daryl, shaking his head.

"You want me to be completely honest? Rarely. Very rarely."

Daryl huffed, shaking his head. They fell back into a comfortable silence, Paul's hands soft and caring against his wounded skin. It wasn't his first injury, and he really wanted to be able to work by the end of the week. He could't afford a few days off, and he silently prayed that the nurse wasn't just cute; but good at his job as well.

"And there you go, Mr Dixon" finally said Paul, and Daryl could swear that he saw a hint of regret in his eyes when he got up, throwing his now red gloves in the trash can by the bed.

"Daryl" groaned the redneck. "Mr Dixon was ma dad."

The nurse looked up at him, eyes even more beautiful than before, a small smirk twisting the side of his mouth.

"Daryl" He repeated, and yes, Daryl liked how the sound rolled on his tongue.

Paul patted his shoulder, and Daryl fought really hard not to lean in the touch and purr like a damn cat. Why was this man so soft? He wanted to cuddle him, take him to dates and kiss him softly on the mouth and at the same time he wanted to ruin him until he was begging to come, with only his name on his lips. He was getting crazy. Maybe he did lost a lot of blood, and was already getting dizzy because of that. Yes, that must be it. Because there was no other rational explanations to his brain's behavior.

"Alright, I gotta go" finally said the young man, his everlasting kind smile grazing his beautiful lips.

"Yeah, huh, thanks, for everything" mumbled Daryl, getting up awkwardly.

Paul shook his head, laughing a little under his breath.

"And please, try not to play the hero for the next few days at least?"

"No promises, Jesus."

He absolutely did NOT look at Paul's ass when the man was walking away. Definitely not.

Daryl didn't think about Paul for a few days.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Daryl forced himself not to think about Paul during the following days, getting back to work and fighting his tiredness urging him (no, begging him) to take a day off. He was working a late shift this night, and was glad that he had been able to sleep a whole four hours in the morning, without interruption. His nightmares were getting a lot worse lately, but somehow, he didn't want to think about that either. Like so many other things, it was easier to ignore than to actually take care of it.

His shift started as easily as it ever did, with not many clients in the late hours of the evening. The rush usually started after 7, when people were getting out of work and before heading to a nice restaurant. He was used to see students, too, some barely even legal. Guys looking for a chick to hook up with, and somehow, even if rarely, some dates too. Daryl wasn't even that interested in people, really, but he was bored and only had to clean a few glasses, so he liked to study the people around him. Working in a bar allowed that.

Tonight though, even after 10, the bar was quiet. A few peoples ordered drinks but nothing Daryl couldn't handle by his own, and his boss had decided to free his colleague, T-Dog, and grant him a night off. T-Dpg was a good man, mostly quiet (a quality that Daryl liked very much, he wasn't into the "look at my kids and wife" kind of talks), good at his job and it was enough for the redneck, really. It was the reason why Daryl was alone in the bar that night, knowing that his boss was still upstairs in his office, taking care of stuff or watching a show, he didn't really care.

But, somehow, fate had some other plans for the barman that night.

A little past 11pm, the bar's doors opened to let a few people in, that Daryl acknowledged from the corner of his eyes. He smirked when he saw two girls looking at him with a piercing look, the rest of the little group -no more than seven people- finding a place at the other end of the bar, where the big dining tables were all gathered. His boss had insisted that the establishment should diversify, and now they even served home cooked meals for lunch. From the corner of his eyes, Daryl saw that one person was heading his way to supposedly order everyone's drinks, and he took his sweet time finishing cleaning his glass before turning around.

And it was the moment when his breath came out of his lungs all at once.

"Daryl?" asked the man before him, and shit, Daryl was so screwed.

He had been avoiding pretty hard to think about Paul for the entire week, and there he was, standing right before him. And while he was working, no less. And to make the entire situation even worse, Paul looked…. Well he looked amazingly beautiful. Not that he wasn't back in the hospital, far from that thought. But right now, Paul looked like he had just gotten out of work, and seamed more relaxed than the last time he'd seen him. His hair was cascading on his shoulders and framing his face in the most delicious way, making him look a little older than in the hospital. It was a little wavy in the middle, keeping the mark of the hairband he had most certainly used, and looked way longer than Daryl had first thought. His piercing blue eyes were focused on Daryl, and the redneck felt his cheeks heating up instantly.

"Do you remember the name of all your patients?" he blurted out, slapping himself internally when the words passed his lips.

Paul looked a little taken aback at first, before blushing furiously.

"Well, I do remember when I get to stitch up heroes, it doesn't exactly happen everyday, right?"

Daryl felt his lips turn into a smile, no matter how hard he tried to refrain himself. The young man had this tendency to look very, very cute, and Daryl was damned. Paul's cheeks were already slightly pink, and Daryl knew it had nothing to do with the drinks he had yet to serve. It definitely looked like he wasn't the only one confused with the situation, and that was a start.

"Can I get ya anything?" finally asked Daryl, taking a look at the table where Paul had come from.

Paul seamed to be the only man in the assembly. The nurses -he supposed- were all gathered around a round table in a corner, laughing and smiling at a story some redhead chick was describing with a lot of moments. Daryl counted five women in total, before turning his attention back to the man in front of him.

"Yeah, thanks. Do you have vodka shots. For the girls" he added, unsure.

"Hum, yeah, sure. I've got vodka. Not sure it's reserved to girls, though."

Paul looked even more embarrassed than before, cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. Daryl could not help but smile, finding a new hobby in teasing the young nurse for as long as he could. Even if it only meant tonight.

"No, that's not… that's not what I meant". Paul sighed, running a hand in his hair.

Daryl swallowed with some difficulty, eyes following the movement, wishing that his hand could just follow the movement and do the same. It looked way too soft to be even allowed, anyway. It wasn't fair.

"I meant that I'll probably stick to cocktails tonight" added the young man, smiling again. "If that's okay."

Daryl nodded thoughtfully. "Your choice, man."

He turned around to grab the vodka, disposing the shots on a small tray that he pushed towards Paul.

"D'y'a need the whole bottle?" he gestured to the semi emptied bottle in his hand, and Paul smiled.

"God no. Don't give them ideas already, I'm the one driving all of them back."

The older man snorted. Yeah, that sounded fun. He could not help but wonder if Paul enjoyed the women's company that much because he was dating one of them, and he had to shake the thought away before his good mood got away.

"What kind of cocktail would ya like?" he asked again, avoiding the nurse's blue gaze fixed on his face.

"Do you make… sex on the beach? I love that one."

Of course the prick had to chose one that made Daryl's dick stir in his pants. It was just his luck, after all. Daryl was pretty sure that the entire universe was laughing at him, somewhere. Or maybe it was just payback, for all the times he'd made fun of Rick being flustered around Michonne before finding the nerves to marry her.

"Huh, yeah. Sure."

Focus. Breathe, in and out. Slowly, before doing it again, until it helps. That's what his psychiatrist had said, right? Daryl wasn't sure it applied to stupid crushes and a tired mind, though. But it couldn't hurt.

He prepared the cocktail with care, from vodka to orange juice, shaking it before pouring it in a glass and adding a few cubes of ice. Paul was staring at him through the entire process, he could feel the watchful gaze slipping from his face to his capable hands, and wanted to smile playfully. But he refrained himself, and handed Paul the glass.

"Woah. That was…" the young man smiled, looking up at Daryl. "That was amazing to watch. Thank you. I wish I could take another one before leaving, but…" he shrugged. "I gotta be the responsible adult, you know?"

Daryl smiled, mirroring the young man's. "You haven't even tasted it yet."

"Oh, I'm sure it's gonna be amazing."

They looked at each other, silent for a long while. Finally, Paul's friends' chatter and loud laughs pushed them back to the planet earth and Paul turned his head, breaking the contact between their eyes.

"I think some of them would like to be at my place right now" commented Paul, his tone neutral, but a strange mindful expression hunting his face.

The barman thought about the moment when the group had entered the bar, the looks of appreciation one some of the women's faces. Not that it mattered to him, anyway. But Paul seemed to mind, and Daryl couldn't help but feel a little proud. But did that mean anything? He had long learned not to read signs the wrong way, or get his hopes up. Because he tended to do that. A lot.

"Huh, yeah. Saw them watching when you got in."

He didn't know what to say, after that. Paul looked even more thoughtful, and he finally blinked back at Daryl.

"I can get them your numbers, if you want."

His words were kind, but his tone a little cold. Daryl wondered if he had done something wrong, shifting from one foot to the other under the nurse's gaze.

"Huh, I'm not interested" he said, not looking back at the round table.

Paul looked surprised, to say the least.

"Really, it wouldn't be a problem. I'm used to it, you know, so I could just…"

"I'm not into girls" blurted Daryl.

Smooth. Real smooth, Dixon. Daryl didn't know if he should slap himself or throw some confettis, because at least the cat was out of the bag, and there was no pretending now.

"Oh."

Well. That didn't go as well as planned.

"Yeah."

He bowed his head, looking back at the glass he was previously cleaning, picking it up as an automatism and stuffing his rag inside, even though it was as dry as sand under the caress of the sun now.

"Alright." Paul said again, this time with a tiny smile, partially hidden by his beard.

What was that supposed to mean?

"Well, I should go back to my friends. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Daryl" he muttered, voice barely recognizable above the jazz music resonating in the bar. "And in full health, this time."

His eyes locked on the older man after looking at his arms for a couple of seconds, and Daryl did not realize he had been holding his breath until his lungs twitched uncomfortably, reminding his brain that air was necessary for his survival. When did he become such a sap? He nodded, not trusting his voice to stay as composed as his face. Paul smiled again, this time more fully, and turned back to his friends, tray and cocktail in hand.

What the hell.

In the back of his mind, Daryl could already feel that after this night, he was completely and utterly fucked.