Daryl

Showerin' after a long hot day sure does feel great. I watch all the murk, sweat, and dirt run down the drain. I try not to get my newly bandaged forehead too wet. I feel like I got a load off my shoulders after talkin' to Marissa today. I ain't felt this good, well...ever.

I get out and dry off with some towels Marissa found down in the basement where the washer and dryer is, which we don't use 'cause we're tryin' to save the power and hot water. She also found me some red flannel pajama bottoms and a white tank top.

When I get back downstairs, Marissa is sittin' indian style in the floor at the coffee table with a board game. She's almost identical to me, wearin' some green pajama pants and a small blue tank top.

"What ya got now, woman?" I say, unenthusiastically.

"Scrabble," she grins.

"Marissa, c'mon. Ya can probably tell I ain't got the best language skills," I groan.

"I'm bored! There's no Judith to play with, or Carl to read to..." she trails off, lookin' at me like a poor little puppy dog.

"Alright, alright," I throw my hands up in surrender, and sit down on the floor beside her.

"You do know how to play, right?" she grins.

"I think I can figure it out," I say, rollin' my eyes.

"You want to go first?"

"Nah, you go."

"Alright," she places some tiles on the board. They spell Moment.

I look at my tiles, and the best I can come up with is My.

"See, you're doing good, a Y is worth 8 points!" she beams at me.

"You're just sayin' that because ya already can tell yer gonna beat me," I say.

"Are you a sore loser?"

"No... Well, sometimes," I give her a half-smile.

She just giggles, and makes another word across the board, one I don't even know how to pronounce.

"I think yer cheatin'," I say, playfully pushin' her shoulder.

"I am not," she frowns.

"Oh, lighten up."

"Mr. Hardass is telling me to lighten up," she says with her eyebrows raised high. She playfully pushes me back.

"Yeah, I am." I poke her ribs and she squeals. "Uh oh, somebody ain't ticklish, are they?"

Her eyes grow wide in terror, "Daryl, don't you dare!"

I start ticklin' her ribcage, she falls backwards into the floor, kickin'n screamin'.

Whap! Her fist nails me right in the jaw, I sit up fast. I see red.

"Oh God! Daryl, I am so sorry!" She jumps up on her knees and places her hand on my face. "I didn't mean to, I swear! I go into full ass-kicking mode when I'm being tickled." She rubs her hand on the bruising area.

I don't say anythin', I'm just tryin' to calm down. I'm breathin' hard. Whenever I get hit, I automatically want to hit back.

"I am so sorry," she continues. "I know you were abused and how being hit must make you feel, and I swear, I didn't mean to." She removes her hand, and places her arms around my shoulders. She's huggin' me. Her face is cradled in my neck, "I'm so sorry," she says again. "Please don't be mad at me."

Her soft breath on my neck makes me forget everythin', even my name. I feel a prickle down my spine. I ain't never been this close to her. I sit there, frozen.

She sits back up and puts her hand on my face again, "Are you alright? Please talk to me."

I put my hand over hers and look her in the eyes, I smile. Her eyes are doin' something weird and before I know it she leans in to kiss me. I quickly turn my head and not even a second later I feel her hand drop from my face. I feel her inchin' away from me.

When I look back at her, she's sittin' back from me, just lookin' at me with questions in her eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" she pauses. Her bottom lip starts to quiver.

"Look," I finally say, "don't cry. I need to tell you somethin.'"

She bites her bottom lip, and nods, as if she's sayin' the stage is all yours.

"I got my first kiss when I was 14. I was so drunk I don't 'member it. Even at 14. Merle was 18...even though he wouldn't old enough, he could get his hands on any kind alcohol or drug he wanted. Every kiss I've had in the past 21 years has been drunk. Every time I fucked-um, e-I mean, had sex, I was drunk. I ain't no good at this kinda stuff. All I've ever done is get so wasted I can't think or talk or walk, and it's 'wam, bam, thank you ma'am.' That night with you in the guard tower was the first time I ever been...(I feel my ears turnin' red as I say the word) sexual with anybody with me bein' the sober one."

"That's not important to me, Daryl. If we're going to be open and honest about how we feel about each other-"

"I'm just scared that I ain't gonna be a good kisser or a good..." I stop before I say they word.

She rolls her eyes, smilin', "Again, not important. Daryl, you are a good man. You are kind. You have this badass exterior, but you're oatmeal on the inside. Warm and soft. That is what I adore about you."

"Just take all this mooshy stuff slow, alright?"

She nods, "Fine. It's your turn."

I play the word, Thanks.

I lost at Scrabble, big damn surprise there... Marissa and I said our goodnights. She hugged me and I hugged her back, that was the progress our new found...fondness for one 'nother. I was so happy to finally rest my damn head for once today. Emotional struggles aren't my strong point.

I fuckin' love this bed. I'm gonna miss it when we head back to the prison. I'm out as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I get woke up around 4 A.M. by the sound of my bedroom door openin'.

"Daryl?" I hear Marissa's voice call out.

"Huh?" I say, half asleep. "Y'alright?"

I feel my covers shufflin', and a warm body climbs in next to me. "Wh-what are ya doin'?"

"Can I just lay with you?"

I feel her body press up against mine, and I go tense...like I'm waitin' to be shot.

"I thought we was takin' this thing slow?"

"Good Lord, Daryl. I'm fully clothed. I just like being near you. I feel safer."

I feel her backside against my front. I'm not sure what to do.

"Hand," she says.

"What?"

"Give me your hand."

I put my hand to her and she grabs it and uses it to pull the length of my arm around her.

"Goodnight, again." She whispers.

"Mhm," I mutter.

I'm fast asleep again. Before I know it I'm dreamin' 'bout the shower again.