AN: Sorry for the delay, folks. I hit a wall with these two for a few weeks, but I did write a little Daryl/OFC fluff, if you're so inclined. It's called "It Is What It Is."
Also, does Daryl Dixon get hotter every week, or is it just me? Maybe it was the new crossbow, or the jacket, or the knife kill… I don't know…
Thanks for the reviews and favorites, too. I love getting the alerts and talking with you all.
Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
From ch. 9:
"I'm serious," [Rick] says. "We may be only human, but we can still have your back."
Faith catches his eyes—those intense and mysterious ice-blue eyes that speak volumes for her to read and learn. Right now, she's beginning to understand the language there; he means what he says. And she's starting to believe it, too.
He continues. "If we're trustin' you with Judith, the least ya can do is trust us to back ya up, deal?"
Faith feels a grin spread over her face and she extends her hand to shake on it.
"Deal," she says.
~10~
Faith rounds the corner on her way to her cell and finds Daryl just next to her open door, waiting for her. He's already looking up at her where she's slowed to a stop at the end of the corridor. It's not like she was trying to be stealth, but she's still surprised by what he's able to see and hear.
They're more alike than she gives them credit for, but she's just not used to it yet; they've only known each other a week. So much has happened since she and Vi entered the prison—since they left Robin dead in the woods.
She's always worn her heart on her sleeve, rolling them up to hide them, whenever she felt too exposed. She knows what loyalty is, and she thinks she might know what love is, but she's never really had a family that stuck around long enough or deserved either from her. Watching Daryl with these people has opened her eyes to a whole new way of living.
"Hey," she says, closing the distance between them.
He watches her walk all the way down the hall, her posture straight and bold. She's got a real swagger for a girl, and she doesn't hide that she can carry her own weight and anything else you pile on top of her. He estimates that characteristic has more to do with who she is than it has to do with her being a slayer.
He nods once in a quiet reply.
He doesn't want to fight with her anymore, as much as he likes her rowdy side, but he knows he'll fuck things up if he has to talk about his feelings. He's already told her everything she needs to know—that these people are his family, and he'll do everything necessary to keep them safe. Now he wants her to be part of that family.
"I didn't…" she starts, then shakes her head and rolls her eyes. She doesn't know how to say she's sorry, so she spontaneously exposes a bit of herself as a peace offering. "I'm not very good at this."
Daryl quietly watches her fidget for a few minutes before responding. "At what?" he asks, but he's pretty sure he knows what she means.
"This," she says, waving a hand back and forth between them.
Daryl pulls a small, teasing smile. "I dunno—what I got so far's been good."
Faith grins and relaxes her stance. "You know that's not what I meant," she says, looking down at her feet.
"I know… it's not what ya meant," he says, reaching to push the dark waves that are hiding her face behind her ear and over shoulder. "Not so good at it neither."
Faith looks up at him. "I kinda gathered that."
Daryl nods slowly and both of their faces soften. They don't really need these words; they know that each of them meant everything and nothing that they said, and that none of it matters, anyway.
She leans forward and kisses him. He closes his eyes and grips the back of her head and a handful of hair, then pushes away from the wall, standing up straight and pulling her flush against his body.
"Done talkin'?" he asks, lazily moving his lips down over her jaw.
She tilts her head back, giving him full access to her throat, and huffs a small laugh. "Yeah," she says. "I'm a lot better at this part."
"Mhmm," he mumbles, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth and twisting her hair around his wrist as he turns and backs her into her cell.
There's nothing else for them to do besides delve deeper into whatever it is they're doing. Neither of them can deny the draw—their similarities and differences fitting together like puzzle pieces to make one big, fucked up picture of a couple of people who love fiercely and will fight to the death for it.
Faith thinks the main thing that will keep them together like this is the fact that they have the same goals, but maybe they'd stick together anyway because their chemical makeup demands it. Their fight earlier that day quickly ignited, but it felt hollow afterward, and Faith reminds herself that he isn't the enemy.
Daryl pushes a blissfully calloused hand up the back of her tank top and unfastens her bra, then deftly pulls both garments over her head and tosses them to the floor. Faith pulls away from his hot hands long enough to draw the uniform curtain that Carol hung in everyone's doorway for privacy, then turns back to face Daryl.
He's already thrown his shirt to the side and is working on his boots by the time she gets her hands on his bare skin again, tracing lines and mentally blurring everything she's learned about Daryl into one safe and familiar ball of him.
Once he's kicked his boots out of the way, he grasps a bicep in each one of his hands, fingers wrapping around and squeezing tight enough to make her sigh. She lets her head fall back and she closes her eyes as he hauls her up close to his mouth, and she feels his lips on her collarbone and breasts.
Her hands settle on his chest and they just stand there for a while, his mouth exploring, pulling her nipples between his lips. She brings her head up again to face him and snags his lips with hers.
"Sit down." Her husky voice owns his every move, so he does what she says, and pulls her with him; she lands in a crouch between his knees.
Her bed smells like musk and spice and something vaguely sweet. It drives him crazy that he can't put a name to the sweetness, but he realizes now that there's a lot about Faith he'll never define.
"C'mon up here, girl," he mutters, as he reaches for her hands, or her hair, or anything he can get a handle on to get her closer, but she just laughs and pops the button on his pants.
"Trying to stop me from sucking your cock, D?" she asks, pulling his pants open and looking up at him with a spark of mischief in her eye. "I feel like I gotta seize the day, here, what with you being freshly showered and all."
Her hands roam his torso and just inside his pants, and their eyes dance together. Daryl can't stifle his grin or keep his own hands off of her, but he doesn't stop her, because he hasn't had a blowjob since well before the virus hit. He tilts his head to watch.
Faith holds his gaze and his cock with equal determination as she swirls her tongue around the head. She feels his fingers slip from her skin and watches his eyes close, as he slumps back onto his elbows. She listens to him breathe and groan in response to every slide and flick of her tongue.
She works him hard and fast—just the right pressure and rhythm. It doesn't take long for her to bring him to the edge. In no time he's coming, and he can't even be bothered with embarrassment over how fast because she swallows every drop with a greedy moan, like his cum is the best dessert she's ever had.
"Damn, girl," he mutters, slowly shifting his weight.
He lets her pull his pants the rest of the way off before he reaches out to bring her up onto the bed with him, then slowly works the rest of her clothes off of her. He kisses her everywhere, paying extra attention to her hardened nipples, all while he's slipping his fingers between her wet, lower lips.
"Good?" she breathes out the question, settling on her back beside him, her head on one of his forearms, burrowing into the thin mattress.
She isn't just asking if he liked what she did; she's also asking if he accepts her apology. He does accept it, but now he wants to apologize, too.
"Real good," he answers.
She closes her eyes and spreads her thighs a little wider, wrapping one arm around his neck and using her other hand to guide his where he's working her into a slow and quiet frenzy. She wants to come like this, with his fingers inside her, and then fall asleep for the whole night. Tomorrow's gonna be a crazy fucking day…
"Now you be nice an' quiet," he whispers with a smirk and a final kiss to her lips.
He slightly shifts away from her body and her control. He grasps her wrists, pins them to the mattress, then straddles her thighs and squeezes, giving the impression that she can't easily move her legs or her arms. Realistically, no human man can contain her, but she loves giving over control to him.
She grins and groans, writhing beneath him, and he dips his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. He reminds himself that he can't hurt her, so he squeezes a little harder on her wrists before raking his nails down over her body.
He works his way down between her reopened thighs, pushing them wide with his hands and shoulders. She can't stay still under his lips against her damp skin. It's too hot in the cell, but neither of them wants to leave.
He wraps his fingers around the back of one knee and pushes, kissing and nipping at the inside of her thighs. Faith reaches behind her head and grabs the headboard. They both hear the metal twisting in her grasp.
"What I say 'bout bein' quiet?" he asks, teasing, slipping a finger inside her and twisting, while his other hand clamps tighter around her knee.
Faith makes a strangled sound, not so much caring if anyone hears them, but playing along with Daryl's act. "More," she says, begging quietly, knowing he'll get off on her pleading tone.
He slips another finger inside, then slowly clamps his lips around her clit and pulls. He surges forward from his knees with all of his weight, his shoulders bumping up against her ass and the backs of her thighs. Even though he's almost flat on his stomach, he has enough leverage to pin her beneath him.
Faith doesn't argue with him when he seems to be trying a little harder, or longer, than she had. He's really good at apologizing, anyway, and she loves his weight against her and the obscene noises he's making with his lips and tongue.
It's oppressively hot in the cell, and their bodies are slick with sweat. Daryl slides his tongue and fingers over and inside every place he can reach, until Faith is soaked and muttering nonsense, laughing and crying all the same.
He hums against her wet skin and uses his teeth. The contrast between the soothing vibration and sharp sensation pushes her farther. Then he twists his fingers again, adds a third, curls all three, and she's coming.
"Fuck!" she cries out, arching beneath him, letting his mouth and hands trap her hips in place.
She can hear him humming still, as he works his way back up her body. His hands and mouth wet with sweat and her, everything mixing together to make them. He settles face to face with her, above her, his hips cradled between her thighs, and he slips inside her.
He's so hard and she's still quaking, so his first few thrusts feel rough. She loves it when he's rough.
She catches his eye, as he grabs both of her legs behind her knees to spread her wide. "Eating pussy makes you hard, huh?" she whispers, running her hands over his shoulders and chest, then back up the sides of his straining neck. His answer is a lunge for her throat.
She isn't quiet as she utters sounds of satisfaction from him fucking her so hard and pulling at her neck with his teeth. She touches him everywhere and kisses him when she can reach his skin with her mouth.
Daryl doesn't say much, even when he's fucking, but when he does, he's very succinct. He punctuates each deep thrust with alternating obscenities and terms of endearment, and Faith echoes almost every word when she comes just seconds before he does.
Thirty minutes later, they're slowly falling into sleep.
"I thought you trusted me," Faith says, not trying to start another fight with him, but knowing they have to be honest, and his instant bristling from her mention of Angel has put her on edge. "He's on our side—promise." She props herself up on one elbow and makes a show of crossing her heart, and Daryl's deep frown lightens.
"I do," he says, pulling her hand away from her heart and twisting their fingers together. "Ain't you I'm worried about."
"But you agreed with Rick," she says, trying a different angle for clarity. "And we'll all be there together."
Daryl nods thoughtfully, gently twisting and sliding their hands and fingers together. "Gotta be cautious, though. Y'all are my family… can't just turn a blind eye, and you know it."
Faith watches him say the words, watches him not even bat an eye, but she's still stunned that he's said them. He's bringing her and Vi into the same fold where Rick and Little Ass Kicker live, where Maggie and Glenn live—all these people.
She realizes that she's stayed this whole time for this very reason. Rick and Daryl, and even Beth, brought her and Vi in early, with open arms. For whatever reason, they trusted her, and that trust is the thing that's always been missing for Faith.
They hold each other's gaze, as they always do. Just being near each other, quiet and calm, does things to her that she can't explain. She feels fuller and brighter when he looks at her this way.
"You and me got the potential to tear each other apart," he says.
Faith knows what he means, because she can still remember wanting to hit him as hard as she could, to hurt him earlier that day, but Daryl doesn't just mean physically.
"I don't want that," she says, bare and honest. In that moment, she realizes she can make a choice; they both can.
He shakes his head, telling her he feels the same way. After a few beats, he slowly pushes a hand into the back of her hair, and asks, "Ya trust me?" There's sincere curiosity in his voice and his face, because he's just as unused to being trusted as she is, and wonders himself if he can and should be.
She nods in affirmation then pushes him to his back and spins to straddle his hips, running her hands over his ruined skin. He watches her and grips her wrist then pulls her down to kiss her. They take a few seconds to meld together before pulling away again.
"Ya blow my fuckin' mind, girl," he says.
Her grin is satisfied, and maybe a little smug. "Back atcha, baby."
End notes: thanks again for reading, guys. We're nearing the end, just a couple more chapters.
Thanks to OneLilHopeful for making time for me (and Daryl and Faith) in her busy life, and to MsKathy for the red pen, and general awesomeness.