Chapter 9

I actually wrote this last night, so I was probably a bit tired when I wrote it :') but I think I did okay with it lol. Thanks for all who keep reviewing! I really appreciate it. Enjoy! xx


The hours went into the night and everyone had already settled into their new living environment. All the tents were set up outside, and everyone sat around a small fire they made. Lori and Carol had exited the house, holding a tray of coffee's each, lucky they had found coffee in the kitchen.

"Well, there is only one guest room," Lori informed. "Guess we're gonna hafta take it in turns on who gets it."

"Well I say the ones with the kids get it," Shane said. "Kids need to be safe."

"And we don't?" Glenn asked, stubbornly.

"Now, it's not really a big issue, we have places to sleep regardless who gets the room," Dale spoke, after taking a sip of his coffee. "After all, we are in a much safer place."

"You say that, but that guy who lived here was one of those things. He could have contaminated stuff." Andrea stared aimlessly at the fire.

"We already burned the chair he was in," said Glenn, throwing the chair arm onto the fire.

"The journey to here from the hospital probably killed him," said Rick. "Doubt Brooke is takin' it very well though."

Daryl, who was barely listening, but lost in his thoughts, looked up when Rick mentioned Brooke. Obviously from still feeling guilt. He hated this. Why did it bother him so much? It wouldn't normally.

"I'd say she just needs some time," Lori sighed.

Daryl got up and headed inside, no one noticing him leaving. Just like always, Daryl always seemed to be the one who would only be noticed when he said anything. He entered the house and looked around, observing all the old pictures, he looked at one and picked it up, smirking as he saw Brooke being held when she was very small.

Movement was heard upstairs, so Daryl thought it would be best that he went to see if she was alright. Seeing as it was his fault she was upset in the first place.

Brooke sat on the bed that was in the main bedroom. She had already changed the sheets from it, as she didn't want to sleep on the bed sheets her Uncle used to sleep on. So replaced them with her own. Tears stained her face, and her head killed from the amount of crying. Daryl walked by the room, then came back when he saw her sat in there.

"There ya' are," he spoke, standing in the doorway. "Got lost," he smirked, trying to ease his way into conversation without any awkwardness, but he failed once Brooke didn't smile. "Everyone has coffee downstairs, better get down there and get one."

"Don't drink coffee," she spoke, quietly. That shot down that conversation.

"Listen," he rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly. "I'm not the best at these sorts of discussions."

"Then why are you here?" Brooke asked. Which caught Daryl off guard slightly. She defiantly was in a bad mood.

"Was tryin' to help," Daryl shrugged.

"Why?" Brooke stood up, looking very tired. "I think you've done enough," she said, bitterly but quietly, about to shut the door, but Daryl wouldn't have it, he pushed her back, stepped further in the room and shut the door behind him.

"Don't push me," he growled.

"Just go away," Brooke sighed. "I'm not in the mood."

"Don't be gettin' an attitude with me, missy." Daryl barked, standing a few inches from her. "I'm the one who saved ya' ass."

"You're also the one who shot my Uncle in the head."

"Ya' told me to!" Daryl raised his voice. "Ya' would have been dead by now if I didn't!"

"If you didn't bring me here, I wouldn't have had to see it."

"Ya' talkin' bullshit, Brooke." He growled. "Startin' to piss me off!"

"What a surprise."

"What?"

"When aren't you pissed off? You're always pissed off!" Brooke started to raise her voice back. Daryl glared daggers at Brooke, while she shared that expression. "I've tried to be so nice, but you always become aggressive and act out in rage!"

"Not to you!"

"Yes you do!" Brooke attempted to push him to back him off, but his frame was much more bulkier than her own, so ended up pushing herself two steps back from him. Secretly this amused him, but his rage mode was on. "Why can't you be nicer?"

"Ya' said ya'self that I was kind to ya'! I ain't nice to no one, so be bloody grateful."

"Why should I need to be grateful? Why can't you be nice, period?" Brooke frowned.

"Cos that ain't who I am, missy. If ya' don't like it. Tough." He shrugged.

"Fine." Brooke didn't know what to say from there. So both remained silent. For some reason, Brooke standing up to him made her seem … adorable? Was that the word Daryl was looking for? He didn't know. But he gave a long sigh.

"Why are ya' such a handful?" he used the palm of his hands to rub his eyes.

"If I'm so terrible, why are you even talking to me?" Brooke said, stubbornly. That was it, Daryl pushed Brooke onto the floor, gently, but enough to be shocked by it, him pinning her. "What are you doing?"

"Now, ya' know ya' don't mean the shit ya' been talkin'." He spoke down to her. "I want ya' to admit it!"

"Are you mental or something?" Brooke snapped up at him.

"Say it!"

"Daryl get off me!" Brooke screeched.

"Just say it, then this will all be over," Daryl smirked.

"Daryl are you out of your freakin' mind? What the hell are you playing at?"

"I ain't gettin' off till you say it, Brooke. So ya' better get comfy." He positioned himself so he was comfy, straddling her. She looked up at him in disgust. What on earth had she unlocked in him to make him act out this way.

"Daryl." She spoke, sternly. "Get. Off."

"Ya' need persuadin'?" He smirked down at her. "I could aim my cross bow at ya' head right now."

"Because that will make me take back the things I said?" Brooke raised an eyebrow at his attempt.

Daryl thought about it, and felt Brooke's hands trying to push him off, but her lack of muscles made the attempt pitiful. He tried to grab her hands and stop her but she kept pursuing her goal in getting him off, so he began tickling her to occupy her hands from getting him off, to blocking. Loud giggles came from her mouth.

"Daryl!" she laughed. "Get off! Why does it matter if I meant those things?" she said through laughter.

"It don't," he replied. "But ya' didn't mean it, so stop bullshittin' and tell me ya' didn't mean it!"

"ALRIGHT!" she couldn't take much more, so gave in. "Alright. I admitted it. Now get off." she glared up at Daryl, getting her breath back. He only smiled down at her, Brooke waited for him to move, but he didn't. "Daryl?"

He realised what he had just done. Daryl Dixon did not do things like that, and he wasn't about to become soft then. So he poked her forehead, roughly. Then quickly got up. Squinting his eyes at her, chewing his lip.

"Told ya'," he said. "Talkin' bullshit." Then he turned to leave.

"Daryl." Brooke said, turning his attention to her before he left. "You're mental," she smiled, playfully. "I know you're kind to me. I was talking stupid…the fact my Uncle died right before me it was enough to get me in a…" the look on Daryl's face showed that he wasn't really in the mood to hear that now. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you in a bad mood, Mr Dixon?" She smiled playfully.

"Ya' wanna go back on that floor again?" Daryl threatened, trying to be intimidating.

"Sorry," she gave a small smile. "Look, I just need some time to myself, but thanks for cheering me up a bit."

"S'fine." Daryl said, still chewing his lip. Brooke approached Daryl then gave him a small peck on the cheek before sitting back down on the bed. She watched his facial expression, he blinked his eyes tightly then gave a small smile before heading out the door. "We'll be keepin' watch."

"Hey, you said we were safe here," said Brooke. "No need for that."

"Heh, there's always need for that." He spoke, warning her.

"Suppose," she fiddled with her sleeves. "Goodnight."

Daryl took a pause before saying. "Night."


I like this chapter :') it amuses me, and I'm the one who wrote it LOL sad much. Anyways, update will be tomorrow, or even later today if I finish the next chapter lol Please leave a review and thank youu for reading! xx