A/N hey guys thanks for all the follows and faves (scowls at the lack of reviews) Sorry I'm taking it a bit slow but its writing itself really, there are some fun chapters coming up though.
She leaned back a little and let the sun warm her skin. Daryl was still spread on the log attempting to rest. She heard him hitch his breath a few times and after the third or fourth time, she opened her eyes and looked down and saw him rolling his head from side to side, a slight crinkle in his brow as he did so.
"Hurt?" She asked quietly.
"M-m... I'm fine." He answered lazily.
She put her hand on his forehead and wobbled his head from side to side and smiled when he slapped her hand away.
He squinted up at her avoiding the sun, and sighed. "Jus,' y'know, carryin' the bow, pulls at my shoulder is all, ain' nothing to worry 'bout."
She smiled. "Oh, if that's all…" She answered and returned to sunning herself.
Daryl closed his eyes again and slowly felt the pull of sleep, he kept thinking he was falling, which jerked his body randomly; kept thinking that if he went to sleep when he woke up he'd be alone again, he'd lose her, but in reality he couldn't stay awake the entire journey. He relaxed in the warm sun, felt the breeze on his face, his neck pinched again, and he flicked his head in annoyance.
It was impossible to rest when she saw him like that, trying so desperately to sleep and yet so fitful; his legs kept jerking, but that wasn't really what bothered her, she'd seen him sleeping enough times on the road to know he always slept like that, but it was the flicking of his head that worried her. She looked at his neck where it joined to his shoulder and could actually see the difference in the muscle, one side much thicker, it looked a little more than painful, so after a few minutes she decided to just deal with it. She reached down and placed her fingers gently on the muscle and rolled it around, gently soothing it down. She smiled softly when his eyes shot open at the feel of her fingers on his neck.
"I don't know a lot about massaging, but your neck isn't meant to be this tight?" She said it as a half question.
He wanted to pull away, tell her that this wasn't okay, that while they'd shared a few moments such as these after the prison, he couldn't let it happen, couldn't fall back into that, because in the weeks apart he'd actually started thinking with his brain and realized how truly wrong this would be. Not to mention Maggie would give him an ass whooping, which wouldn't really scare him off if he didn't know himself how wrong this would be; but he couldn't because her hands felt so unbelievably good on his neck, he couldn't even protest in the smallest.
"Hey watch it, you're hurtin' me!" He grumbled as she pressed on a knot in his neck, but he allowed her to continue. Didn't make it easy for her, didn't sit up or anything, just stayed there while she rubbed small circles into the muscle, convincing it to relax. He was even a little grateful; of course he'd never let anyone else do it, but this was Beth and she was kind of like Hershel, persistent, and once she'd made her mind up to do something, no matter what it was it would soften and buckle due to her sheer will, just like everything had to her father before her. Also, if she is anything like her dad, she's good on discretion; no one else will have to know that Daryl Dixon was pussy enough to get a massage like some rich bitch at a day spa.
"I fell off Nelly...my horse once, and twisted the muscle in my leg right around, I had to go to the masseuse for a few sessions, it hurt heaps, but it always gets better...Daddy got to calling her Nervous Nelly after that. You know her, she threw you too."
Daryl wanted to smile at the small confession, Beth did that sometimes, just dropped hints of her past and while sometimes it was annoying because Daryl knew the past was irrelevant, sometimes he thought it was sweet that she could hold onto those small things. "Did your masseuse talk alot?"
"Nope, but he had these lovely oils that smelled like lavender, and music that sounded like the ocean, and candles, it was so relaxing…." She continued as she massaged the tightness out of his neck.
"Beth?" He opened his eyes and looked up at her.
"Yes?"
"...Shut up, wontcha?"
She squished her fingers into the tight part of his neck.
"Owww!" He shot up. "That hurts!" He rubbed it himself.
She smirked. "Good, now you're up I can get to it properly, take your shirt off can you?" It was a simple request and he knew there was nothing in it, but still made him flinch inwardly so he just ignored her. He was like that though, she couldn't see it being an issue; he had seen the majority of her body when he helped her into her pants when she'd hurt her ankle. She'd just done cleaning up and managed to get one leg in, before falling off the stool with a yelp which brought him running in. There was a moment of embarrassment but it quickly faded when he saw the look of frustration as she tried to pull her pants up without twisting her leg; neither one of them had thought anything of it. This shouldn't be an issue, he was just being Daryl, right? He was a guy, it's not like she was asking a lot, and he was so often just still and silent, so she reached around him and undid a few buttons, not all of them, just three or four, just enough to loosen it, seeing as he clearly wasn't planning on moving.
He couldn't figure out why his voice wouldn't work, why he couldn't say stop, he just couldn't; maybe because he liked it, wanted it, not that it was her, but since the turn there hadn't been alotof time for this sort of stuff and it was just nice. He knew what she was doing the moment he felt her hands run past his shoulders, yet he was unable to move, even as she fiddled with the buttons, her knuckles scraping his bare skin, her breath on his neck, her chest pressed to his shoulder making him feel both uncomfortable at the intimate act of being undressed by someone else's hands and slightly aroused, mostly it just felt so damn good to have someone tend to him with such gentleness. She pulled at the collar a little so she could get her fingers down his back and really work the muscle, and then suddenly he worked again, his muscles and his voice. He abruptly stood and lifted his arm ready to swing it at her. "Don't touch my back!" He realized it was a little too sharp and immediately dropped his arm, wondering how it had even acted on its own; he swallowed hard before lowering his voice a little, he didn't mean to do it, it was just a reaction, but not the sort of reaction he needed to have toward her; god, he was such a dick. "C'mon we best get movin'." He stated a little quieter as he swung his crossbow over his back and started buttoning those buttons.
She looked at him, confused. "Move it, c'mon!" He hustled her.
"Jerk." She muttered under her breath while she got her pack on. She would've felt bad for saying it loud enough for him to hear, but she didn't because she knew he'd heard her say it to him before and he hadn't cared. It wasn't enough that she said it, she wanted him to know she was hurt by his abrupt behavior. "Why do you have to be such an ass? I was only trying to be nice."
He glared at her and started walking; she whistled at the dog and followed him. Obviously he was back to being that old Daryl Dixon.
He led for a while without saying anything, but after a mile or two he remembered that book he'd been reading, that diary. He remembered how angry she was, how hurt she was every time he had yelled at her, or anyone for that matter. Probably 30% of the diary was made up of him yelling at someone, or giving someone the silent treatment, or just being a screw-up in general; she was such a girl, getting all emotional and stuff at every turn. Of course, he wasn't the feature in her diary, but most of the mentions of him were to deal with her being hurt that he was mean in some way or another, so he decided to fix it, or try to; that's what she'd want, right? "Dog got a name?"
"Yep." It was a clipped and short reply.
He waited for more, but there wasn't any so he pushed. "What is it?"
She ignored him.
"Ya know I had a dog once...called it Oliver, Ollie for short." He smiled a little, "Loved that damn dog... 'til Dad shot it." She snapped her head to him, but remained silent. He realized he wasn't good at the before the turn stories like she was. He grunted at that thought and continued sourly, shrugging."Barked at squirrels all the time."
They walked another half hour in relative silence and took out a few straggling walkers, but avoided any herds. He realized she wasn't going to forgive him so quickly this time; he thought he should explain maybe that'd help. "Just don't like people touching my back, ya know?"
"Could've just said." She answered him.
"Just did." He dared to look at her, hoping she would understand the meaning behind his words; that although 'sorry' had been beaten out of his vocabulary, that's exactly what he meant to say.
She rolled her eyes and soldiered ahead, fully understanding that that was the closest to an apology that she'd ever get from Daryl. She knocked him as she passed him, thrown a little off balance herself when he somehow grabbed her hand and linked his fingers through. She stopped dead in her tracks and he tugged her along. "What you waitin' for?" He asked, not really expecting her to answer. He didn't know why he did it, maybe he wanted to be nice, maybe he wanted just to affirm that she indeed was alive and within reach, maybe he wanted to shock her; he didn't know, he just knew that she didn't let go and that probably meant something more than it should.
She made some sort of noise, like she was going to say something, but it just came out as some sort of disgruntled groan. A few moments later she tried again, but let her voice fizzle out again; she was taken aback by his, whatever you'd call it, affection. Usually she initiated stuff; she was like that, always liked to show people her feelings, hugged people when she was happy, or sad, or had any real emotion. She liked to touch people and, in the case of Daryl, he just made her feel safe, like nothing could get her when she was holding his hand. Usually though, whenever she did it, or sporadically patted him on the back or hugged him, or even smiled at him, he always acted uncomfortable, or displeased. The only person he wasn't like that with was Judith. Sometimes he'd let Carol, but even then he looked mildly annoyed at her. She didn't care, she did it anyway because she figured he needed a bit of human contact, so he could stay... human. After the burning, something had changed; they had gotten some sort of comraderie where a guiding touch or a nudge, or standing a little closer was somehow acceptable; but this, him initiating this sort of contact, with anyone, well that was just so foreign that it actually had her speechless which didn't really happen... ever, and she so wanted to talk. She hoped he didn't really hear those stupid noises that came from her throat involuntarily as she tried to find words, she knew they would've sounded stupid, as if he didn't already think her a fool.
"You got bit or something back there?" He asked.
She looked at him and shook her head, unsure if he was serious; they'd only seen three walkers that morning and Daryl had taken them out with ease, he knew she hadn't been near them.
"Well then, shut up... you sound like a damn walker." He grumbled.
She shook her head and squeezed his hand with the smallest hint of a smile, even though she was determined to remain annoyed with him she knew it was pointless, but she let out a huff and let him lead her wherever they were going. He might be a jerk, but she'd still follow him to the ends of the earth; he was still Daryl and he still made her feel safe.
A/N There you go mean Daryl is softening a little bit. :D
