Daryl isn't nervous.

There's no reason for him to be, really. So his family is going to meet Paul for the first time, what? They'll love him, because Daryl loves him, and the little shit always wins people over one way or another— even when they're sour rednecks who want nothing to do with him at first. So yeah, he isn't nervous. Everything will be fine.

Really. He means that.

"Stop freaking out, Daryl, I can see your frown from here."

Daryl looks away from his phone to give Tara a playful flip, though he can feel his ears burn from the way the room's attention shift to him at her words. The woman just raises her eyebrows at him, not having any of it, and smiles smugly. Why were they friends again?

"Shut up, I ain't."

"I'm sure we'll love him, dear," Carol comforts him, amusement clear in her eyes as she tries again to make sense of his hair, only to be shaken off by Daryl. "Maggie did, she said he's a sweetheart, and more important than any of that: you do, and he treats you well. That makes him family already."

Tara nods in agreement, though she doesn't hide her shit-eating grin like the other does. "Yeah dude, I'm sure we'll get along just fine," she assures him. "And shouldn't your gentleman caller be here by now? I want to meet him."

The idea of those two in particular meeting is kind of terrifying; not because they won't get along, but because they will a bit too much for Daryl's liking. He's sure by the end of the night he'll have the two teaming up against himone way or another, with twin smirks on their faces and mischief in their eyes.

"He's comin'," he says weakly, though he knows Paul wouldn't back out on him, not now, he also knows that meeting his family is a big step to make in their relationship. A step neither have ever done before. "Just late, is all."

"Come on now Tara, leave him alone, will you? The man's nervous already as it is," Michonne protests as she enters the room, pie in hands, with her boyfriend following right behind with the plates in hand. She gives Daryl a kiss on the side of his head as she puts it down and messes his hair like he's a kid all of a sudden, only to be scowled by Carol who starts to fix it yet again.

Daryl shoos the meddling women off of him with a frown.

"I said I ain't nervous already, christ."

"And we believe you, brother," Rick assures him, not at all believable.

"We're just eager to meet the guy that left Daryl Dixon with heart eyes," completes Carol. "I promise we'll try to not scare him off."

Tara nudges him and grins wickedly. "I don't."

Before he can say anything, the doorbell rings and makes the whole house stop. Daryl waits for a few seconds before Tara and Carol stare at him expectantly, eyebrows raised, and he notices Rick and Michonne never even planned on moving from where they're setting the table even though it's their house and they should be the ones answering the door. Fuckin' hell, what now?

"Go open the door for your man, Dixon!" Tara chides, pushing him away from the dining table. "What are you waiting for?"

Daryl shrugs. "It ain't my house."

"Please, you practically live here and you know that," he's reminded by Michonne. "Now go be a dear and open that door before the poor guy freezes out there, will you?"

"You're all awful," he complains, but does it anyway, walking away from where his family laughs happily at his words.

Daryl hesitates at the door, taking a deep breath, almost sure the universe would pull a trick on him and it'd be someone else at the other side, leaving him so worked up over nothing. But when he opens the door all the doubts vanish in just one second and fuck, Paul looks just as handsome as the last time he saw him— hair down with a big fluffy beanie on top of his head and his nose red from the cold. He also looks just as nervous as Daryl himself feels.

Shit, this is happening.

For some reason, it reminds him of their first date; Daryl feeling like a nervous wreck, so worried that at any second his brother would should up and ask what the fuck he was doing as if Merle wasn't locked up and would stay there for years, as if he now didn't have an accepting and loving family he found for himself. He remembers sitting in that bar and looking at Paul, who looked like terrified himself but still smiled brightly, and thinking fuck, I wanna kiss him. Daryl remembers actually doing it later that same night and just how right it all felt.

And it's with that thought that all his worries melt away and he's reminded why they're even here: because he loves that man.

"Hey."

Paul smiles, relaxing instantly. "Hey yourself."

"You're lookin' good." They share a quick kiss, smiling at each other as if neither could quite believe this was really happening, so caught up in their own little world. Daryl grabs the cheap wine from the other's hand. "I like it. You, I mean. Not the wine."

"Why, thank you," Paul jokes, "you're not too shabby yourself, I suppose."

"What's taking so long? Invite him in, Daryl, shit." Tara butts in, opening a shark smile once she sees Paul standing there. "Hi, I'm Tara."

"Oh, hi! Paul."

"I know. Hope you like ugly sweaters because I'm pretty sure that's what Rosita is giving you."

Daryl moves over a bit, letting Paul in and closing the door behind him, watching as he removes his own coat and scarf. "Wait, what?" the man asks, turning to him in confusion. "I thought you guys weren't doing gifts?"

"I said I wasn't doing gifts," Daryl says, shrugging.

Paul stares at him ultraged, giving him a light slap on the shoulder. "Daryl! Are you trying to sabotage me?!"

Shit, he's mad.

"Oops, that's my cue," Tara says awkwardly, leaving him to the wolves. "See you guys at the kitchen; nice to meet you, Jesus. Sorry, Daryl." She disappears just as quickly as she showed up, making a guilty face at them as she goes. Traitor.

He hadn't done it on purpose; Daryl's so used to never participating in the gifts thing and all the traditions his little misfit family has, he didn't even stop to think about it.

Still. "They're not expecting anything from you."

"Well… still. You should've told me," Paul argues, anxiety showing as he looks at Daryl. "They all got me things?"

"Not everyone, but some of 'em, yeah. Hey— hey, they don't care, alright? If you showed up and tried to buy them all with gifts, they wouldn't like that shit at all. They just wanna meet you. You got this, Paul. They'll love ya."

There's a second in which Daryl thinks he didn't say the right thing, as he watches the anxiety clear on his boyfriend's face, but then Paul looks up and it's with the same twinkle in his eyes that he's so used to see, a small smile in his face like he's either not sure yet if he believes it, or if he does but wants Daryl to repeat it anyway.

"You really think so?"

"They'll eat you up with a damn spoon." He seals his words with a small kiss. "Now go charm them, you little shit."

Really, Daryl had nothing to worry about.