The Crow And The Butterfly
She was doing it again, staring at him. Her soft blue eyes were fixed on his face, his tensed shoulders, his taut muscles, his awkward standing position; always roving over him, those eyes, and he always had to stop and wonder why. She didn't even seem to notice that he knew she was looking, or if she did she just didn't care. He honestly expected nothing less from her now, being as brazen as to watch him in the middle of the day without a care as to whether or not he had caught her.
Daryl was standing near the prison's brick wall, his arms crossed over his chest, just taking in the day. It was no secret by now that he preferred the outdoors in any form to the cramped inner chambers of the prison, where the sun was bright and warm and the air was fresh, filling his lungs with its cleanliness. His crossbow rested on his shoulder, just to be on the safe side, and his eyes lazily scanned the perimeter for any threats.
He wasn't on watch duty today, that was Carol's job, but he couldn't turn off his attuned senses; he always needed to observe the world around him, just in case.
Speaking of Carol and watch duty, she didn't seem to be doing her job today. Her eyes had spent more time on him than they had on the road beyond the prison. Why was she still looking at him, anyway? She should have been focused on the task at hand, not on his filthy redneck ass.
Well, if Carol wanted to stare at him then so be it. As long as she didn't let something vital slip past her attention then there was really no harm done, save for the discomfort he felt.
Daryl glanced up once more, through his lashes to try and cover his gaze, and his eyes instantly locked on hers. He couldn't seem to look away, and she certainly wasn't inclined to, and now she was smiling at him, too. Her lips were curved up just slightly, bringing warmth into her face, and he could swear his throat was going to close at just how cute she looked like that.
He was the one to avert his gaze first, dropping his eyes back to the pavement beneath his feet. Heat flooded his cheeks and he ducked his head, hoping she hadn't seen him blush. He was a man, dammit, not some fuckin' pansy who got all flustered over a little woman. If Merle were here he'd have punched him ten times over by now for the idiotic way he was acting.
Daryl shook his head; Merle wasn't there, and maybe being a little giddy inside wasn't a bad thing anymore. It was actually kind of nice to know that Carol seemed to enjoy watching him.
No, no, it was stupid. He was a Dixon, for Christ's sake; a strong and powerful Dixon, a man among men, and a Dixon didn't blush just because some bitch was checking him out. Why would she want to look at him anyway, as dirty and covered as scars as he was? His hair was tangled and flat, in need of a good wash and comb; dirt was smeared over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose from his hunt that morning, sweat dripping down his forehead from the afternoon heat. He supposed the only nice looking thing about him was his eyes, but they were probably rimmed with just as much dust as the rest of his body, and of course there were circles under them from the lack of sleep he managed to get at night.
He was ugly, and she was probably just staring at him to try and figure out how such a commodity still managed to walk the earth. He felt like screaming at her, telling her to keep her mind of her damn work instead of staring at him so much.
Maybe he should go up there, tell her that if she couldn't mind her business he'd do it for her, make sure shit got done around here.
Yeah, that's what he would do. He pushed himself away from the wall, marching over to the remaining guard tower and up the steps.
She was leaning against the railing when he got up there, her eyes finally turned toward the road.
"Carol," Daryl barked sharply, his sudden flare of anger not having ebbed yet.
She turned to face him, no trace of fear or surprise in her eyes, that same small smile gracing her lips. "Yes, Daryl?"
"Wanna know why ya starin' at me s'damn much when ya should be focused on yer fuckin' job." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest again. Something about her calm demeanor made him uneasy, and part of him wondered if he were going overboard about the situation.
Carol didn't speak, but rather bit down on her bottom lip and turned her eyes away from him.
"Why ain't ya gonna look at me now? Ya been doin' it so damn much lately I'm surprised ya eyes can even go in another direction." Daryl rolled his eyes, knowing that he was being snippety now, but unable to stop.
"I'm sorry, Daryl." Carol's words came out in a whisper, still not looking at him.
He let out a sharp exhale, dropping his arms and shoving his hands in his pockets. He hadn't meant to upset her, he'd just felt uncomfortable with her looking at him so much. But maybe he had been too harsh with her.
His tone was gentle when he spoke again. "Why do ya look at me so much, Carol?"
She slowly raised her eyes up to his, blue on blue, and he felt that fluttery feeling in his stomach again; it didn't seem so unpleasant now.
"I don't know, Daryl, I just…," She trailed off, seeming to grasp for the right words.
"Ya just what?" Daryl asked kindly, taking a few steps toward her.
"I just think you're beautiful."
Daryl snorted, having to work to keep his laugh inside his throat. "Me beautiful? What're ya talkin' 'bout, Carol? I'm all dirty and sweaty, and my hair's a mess. I ain't beautiful, I'm ugly as sin."
Carol giggled at his expression, shaking her head. "Not to me, you're not. When I look at you I see eyes the color of the ocean, high cheekbones and a strong jawline, a cute little mole at the corner of your lip that gives you a subtle sort of innocence, beard stubble I wouldn't mind rubbing up against, and long, soft hair that frames your face perfectly, even if it does need to be washed. When I look at you I see a handsome man."
The heat crept into Daryl's cheeks again, his throat closed off with all the emotions he'd never put words to before. Carol thought he was handsome despite all his flaws. No one else had ever said as much to him before, never made him feel half as worth something as her three simple sentences did.
He nodded, grunting in response, but she didn't seem to be expecting him to say anything. He silently leaned against the railing with her, their shoulders touching. It was his way of saying he accepted what she had said and was grateful, and she appeared to understand that.
"Daryl, look." Carol tapped his shoulder once, pointing to something off in the distance.
A few feet away a crow and a butterfly were flying in tandem, almost looking like the crow was chasing the butterfly. The butterfly didn't seem afraid of the crow, and the crow made no move to attack or eat the butterfly, if crows even did that sort of thing. They just flew together, as if they were friends.
"Sometimes when I think about us I feel like that crow." Carol mused to herself, speaking so softly that Daryl almost missed her words.
"Ya callin' me a butterfly?" Daryl raised one eyebrow, another gruff snort breaking free.
"In a way, yes, I am. The crow is chasing after the butterfly, trying so hard to keep pace with it, forever reaching for a creature so beautiful, a creature it can never have. And the butterfly is oblivious to it all, just continuing on its way, never seeing the efforts the crow puts forth for it." She sighed, her face falling slowly.
Daryl was surprised to hear her say that. He noticed everything she did, and appreciated it, too, even if he usually forgot to say as much. If anything he was the crow, beastly and fearsome, forbidden to be with the beautiful butterfly he loved. Carol was the butterfly. Carol was the fragile, gorgeous creature, fluttering off to a better life after breaking free from her cocoon.
He suddenly had the urge to wrap his arms around her, pull her tight into his embrace, and kiss her with as much love as he was capable of. He wanted to tell her how much he cared for her, how he'd chase after her forever, but he refrained. He was awkward and shy, and didn't know how to make a move. All he could do was look at her and hope she understood the message his eyes were trying to convey.
She looked away from the sweet scene before them, locking her eyes on his once more. They stared at one another for a long while, and slowly the realization in her irises grew into a sort of full awareness.
Slowly, giving him every option to pull away, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. It wasn't exactly what he had hoped for, but it was more than he'd ever expected from her. His lips curved into a smile as she pulled away, and she grinned in response, her entire face lighting up with the gesture.
Mustering up all of his courage, he took a deep breath and closed the small gap between them, tentatively pressing his lips to hers. It was awkward, but not unpleasant, and she kissed him back as if there were nothing odd about it at all, as if they'd been kissing long before then.
It was a whole new experience for Daryl, to share a kiss with someone he truly liked enough to want to kiss, and he almost regretted not doing it with her sooner.
He was the crow chasing the butterfly, but for him the butterfly let herself be caught.