A/N: I have wanted to do something with Daryl Dixon for sometime now and this is it. Please enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I tried my hardest to keep him in character. We never see him in relationships on the Walking Dead, so I thought this would be an interesting 'what if'.

Annnnd if it matters, I am also a Rick Grimes fan. So with that being said, I have a fanfic about him as well. It's my main focus honestly and gets updated way more, but I love all my creations equally!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Walking Dead, but I do love Daryl Dixon if that counts for anything... Doubt it does, but whaaatver.

"You disgust me." The young woman riding in the passenger side of the truck scrunched up her nose as she eyed the driver. He smirked as he started to dig deeper into his nose with his index finger out of spite. "Stop doing that!"

Ever since meeting this man, she had often found herself asking why she somehow always got stuck with him. It was as if God was playing a joke on her, one she still couldn't find the humor in. Though they weren't sitting close, the space between them still wasn't enough. The thought of the truck hitting a bump and forcing them to touch accidently made her stomach churn and her skin crawl in disgust. Everything about that man repulsed her.

"If you don't like it, get out. I'll even be nice enough to pull over for you."

She hated his country twang. She hated his disheveled blonde hair. She hated his average blue eyes. She hated his sleeveless shirts and dirty jeans. She flat out hated him,

"What the fuck am I supposed to do if I get out asshole?!"

"Walk your stuck up ass there is what you can do." The had hit a speed bump, causing the drivers index finger to go further up his nose than it should have. "Shit!" he hissed. The woman smirked, looking out her window.

"And that's what you get."

"Shut up." He grumbled.

He couldn't stand the woman that sat next to him. She managed to work his nerves like no other. He didn't know much about her life before the world went to shit, not that he cared much truthfully. All he knew was she had been a bounty hunter and unfortunately knew Merle, his older brother, very well. He had no idea if she was married, but she always wore a diamond ring on her left ring finger.

"Are we there yet?" she asked with a bored tone.

"How the hell should I know?" he snapped. All he wanted to do was drive in silence, but she couldn't even let him do that.

"You're the one driving."

"Yeah, which means I call the shots. And I say shut the fuck up cause your voice is giving me a headache."

"Fuck you, you dirty hick."

One thing the man knew was that he would never like her.

Ever.

He couldn't recall what it was that made him first dislike her, but every day he disliked her more and more. He had no idea why she was riding in his truck; she seemed to get along with everyone but him. It would make sense to let her ride with one of them, but no, they wanted him to suffer.

If he had to drive his truck off the road to kill the both of them just to spite her, he would do it. That was just how much he couldn't stand her.

"Say that one more time and this dirty hick will shove your ass out this truck."

She wanted to say something back, but she knew by the look in his eyes that he was far from kidding. He never joked with her anyway. She was sure that if she made one more rude comment, he'd either shove her out the moving truck or punch her in the face. Either way, it would end in violence if she decided to say what she wanted.

In all honesty, she had been lashing out at him the whole ride because she wanted to keep her mind off the dying man in the RV behind them. They never spoke much, but no one deserved to die that way. At their last camp site, Jim had been bitten and everyone knew what was going to happen to him.

The young woman would not have believed it if someone were to tell her months ago that she would end up traveling with a group of strangers, trying to survive in a world that was overrun with the living dead. She would have laughed and asked if that idea had come from a zombie movie and if so, where could she see it. Now she was in a real apocalypse and it had no script.

She crossed her arms over her chest and gazed out the window. There was a silence just begging to be broken. She knew she could try to say something nice to try to get on Daryl's good side, but for some reason everything she thought to say ended up being insults. Besides, she doubted he even had a good side.

"Do you work out?" she asked randomly. She wanted to smack herself the moment those words left her mouth. The world had ended, who was worried about maintaining washboard abs?

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" his eyes flickered to her for a moment, then back to the road. Apparently, he agreed that it was a stupid question.

"I'm trying to make conversation." She replied lamely.

"Who said I wanted to talk to you?"

She frowned. "Whatever, look I don't like all this silence."

"Get over it, cause I don't want to talk to you."

"Answer the damn question!"

"Ok. No, I don't. Do you know why? Cause the world ended and for some strange reason, I just can't seem to find a good gym any more. Any recommendations?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, actually." She tried to stop herself. Really, she did. "Go back to lifting them beer kegs. I heard that's how you hicks work your arms out. I'm sure you got a few in the bed of your truck. It's the first thing grabbed before leaving home, right?"

"You bitch." He reached over and pushed open her door. "I ain't gonna be nice enough to stop for you. Tuck and roll sweetheart."

"Are you crazy?!" she yelled, trying to close the door. She could just see herself falling out the moving car, getting hit with the RV, rolling on the pavement then finally breaking every bone in her body. She slammed the door shut in a huff. "You asshole, you could have seriously hurt me."

"That was the plan." He mumbled without humor.

"Fuck you."

"Sweet heart, I'd never take you up on that offer."

"Don't flatter yourself, I would never offer you a night with me."

"You couldn't handle a night with me." He shot back, smirking. He had been known to break a bed or two, and never got a complaint.

"You're right." His eyebrows shot up in surprise to her words. "I couldn't handle your body odor. I already smell you from here." She flashed him the sweetest smile she could.

"I hate you."