the prompt was: "Imagine Richonne going out on "runs" looking for a motorcycle for Daryl for his birthday. But he had no idea and started to feel jealous, and acted like a asshole a tad bit. And when then finally unveil it, they decide to ride around on it while he follows behind on foot apologizing. After going around the block three times they hop off, and let him enjoy his new present."
it can be set in the AU, after they move to DC for michonne's job, or in canon. it works either way for me, i guess.
"Jesus," Daryl splutters once you reach the bend in the street. There are beads of sweat on his brow despite the frost sticking to his coat, his hair. "Already said I was sorry."
Rick laughs against you, his hands gently squeezing your hips when you rev up the engine of the softail Harley-Davidson you're both astride. "That you did." He lowers his voice enough that only you can hear him when he asks next, "Think you've made him suffer enough, 'Chonne?"
You look over your shoulder to give him your most withering glare before hauling your eyes back to the road. "I'm not above giving him a taste of his own medicine," you scoff. "He refused to even so much as look at me, at either of us, for weeks." You try to mask the hurt in your tone with haughtiness, but you don't succeed.
Daryl picks up on that, bless his heart, and he doesn't sound pissed anymore, just as miserable as you. "M'sorry, you guys. Thinkin you two were lookin for somethin for me was the last thing on my mind."
Rick blows out a shocked breath that skitters hotly across your neck. "You thought we were trying to end things with you?"
Of course Rick figures that out before you do, he's known Daryl longer, but it doesn't soften the blow any less. And Daryl paints an utterly forlorn picture, standing ankle-deep in Washington snow with his shoulders hunched up to his ears, missing you and Rick.
"Shit," you grumble, and shut down the motor in order to climb off the bike and smother Daryl in a hug. "You're such an uncommunicative dick," you choke out, and his gloved hands pet your hair uncertainly, then hug you back.
"Hey, I said plenty just now," he laughs, and beside you Rick is chuckling, "How 'bout we take this back home. The cold is killing me."
Daryl grins, tugs you and then Rick in for kisses that taste of snowflakes and nicotine. "Long as I get t'drive this time."