Daryl sighed and relaxed as she stroked his scalp; he did feel better after clearing the air with Allison about not walking on eggshells around him, but he also couldn't help but submit to the awesome tingles that ran from his head down his spine thanks to her gentle fingers. He became so entranced by the feeling that his lips couldn't even form a proper pucker to kiss her with; he simply moaned very softly and leaned his forehead against hers as she caressed his head from forehead to crown. He was so relaxed as to feel like a rag doll, and the tiny part of his brain that was still actively thinking and not feeling worried that Allison would be offended, would find him a wimp or a pussy. Moments later, though, that part of his brain relaxed as well, as she silently wrapped her other arm around his shoulders and rubbed his back.
"Mmm," she murmured as she pulled him closer. His head flopped, as if he had no neck muscles, down to the crook between her neck and shoulder. She leaned her head to the right to embrace his head with hers and he finally found some neurons that were still firing enough to softly kiss her neck. She mmmmm'd again and pressed his face against her neck. He reached his arms around her shoulders and held on as if for dear life. He involuntarily emitted a tiny mewling sound, like a tiny kitten nosing its mother's belly. Even though having his warm breath on her neck was making Allison more and more excited, she sensed that right now Daryl wasn't necessarily looking for "sexy time" – he seemed to be more in a cuddling mood. A few weeks ago that would have surprised her, but as they'd spent more time together he'd grown more relaxed at her touch and sometimes even seemed to seek it out. The thought of that made her flattered and…special.
"Your hair is getting long," she commented as she entangled her fingers in it.
"Yeah," he answered after a few minutes, as if he had to physically collect his thoughts. "I noticed that at the pump before when I was washing up for dinner…Carol mentioned something about it a couple days ago, or maybe a week ago, I forget…anyway she offered to cut it…"
Allison tried not to physically tense up at the mention of Carol. "Well, it's up to you…I mean, if you don't mind it, I will mention that I've always had a 'thing' about guys with long hair…I don't want to influence your decision or change your preference or whatever… I've just always found long hair on men attractive."
"Is that why you like the Beatles?" he asked with half a smirk, opening his eyes to glance at her.
"I like the Beatles because their music is good…and, OK truth be told, they are easy on the eyes, hair-wise." She smiled down at him. "Like I said earlier tonight, though, most of the music I know and like is because of the stuff my parents and grandparents had around the house. I listened to the radio some and heard the latest hits, but I couldn't afford to buy my own records or tapes so when it came to repeat listening I grew accustomed to what we had in the house." She stroked his head again as she quietly reminisced. "I was kinda weird in high school, come to think of it, because I knew more about 70s and early 80s songs than I did of what all the 'cool' kids were listening to. Never really got into hip-hop and all that…at the hospital our piped-in music was hooked up to satellite radio, and when I was on duty I always tuned it into the classic rock station or 70s hits."
Daryl reluctantly got up and quickly stripped off his shirt. He then flopped down onto their makeshift bed. He stretched out on his back and looked at Allison invitingly. "I grew up listenin' to Merle's records," he remarked, "and at the auto shop I used to work at, the boss used to play the classic rock station, too." He extended an arm upward and Allison grasped his hand. He pulled her down beside him. "So you not only know all the old TV shows, you also know the old songs," he commented, turning slightly on his side to nuzzle her neck. "You're this old lady in a young woman's body."
She smiled as she scooted closer to fit her body against his. "I guess so. It made me totally un-cool in school, most definitely, but I wasn't willing to give up the…pleasure I got from that music just to conform." She began gently stroking his chest as she spoke. "When I was in middle school I had a friend, Mary, who had a sister who was like 10 or 11 years older…she just seemed like the coolest person I'd ever met…and she had all these David Bowie and Queen and Kiss albums, and a bunch of VHS tapes of music videos…" She paused and sighed at the memory. "Mary and I would watch those old tapes and those men with their long hair made me feel….funny in a good way that I didn't quite understand."
"Probably like Lynda Carter made me feel when she ran around in her Wonder Woman costume," Daryl replied.
Allison chuckled. "Probably," she agreed. "And maybe part of it was because Mary's mom and my granny despised those long-haired make-up wearing singers so much that made them extra-attractive…" She looked into Daryl's eyes. "Remember what I told you before about good girls falling for bad boys…"
Daryl growled slightly and pulled her face close for a kiss. "So if I let my hair grow long I'll remind you of one of those fag singers you like?" he asked.
"How very politically incorrect of you to refer to them that way," Allison responded almost automatically, even though growing up in the rural South she knew that that phraseology was more or less the norm. "Not every male singer with long hair is gay, you know," she admonished him. "Anyway," she pulled back from him for a moment to survey him critically, "you actually do remind me of one of my favorite singers, and his hair was always about the length of yours now or sometimes a tad shorter…"
"Go on," he prompted her.
"Bryan Ferry, the lead singer for Roxy Music." He looked blank at the reference, so she amplified. "They had hits like 'Love is the Drug' and 'More Than This' and others…anyway, now that I think of it you have very similar facial features to him." She reached over and caressed his face. "Very similar…" she murmured. "I had a cassette tape of one of his solo albums, and the main song I remember was called 'Sign of the Times'. I loved the melody, but what really struck me was the opening line….'Here is a rainbow for your hair'…" She closed her eyes and sighed, but kept her hand on his chin. "Granted, the rest of the lyrics didn't make a lick of sense to me, but I've always thought that one line was the most romantic thing I'd ever heard."
"Bryan Fairy, 'nother gay guy," Daryl grunted, seemingly disinterested.
"You should get some sleep," Allison told him, changing the subject. "You've got watch early in the morning."
"Rick and Shane are gonna take Randall out and leave him off tomorrow," Daryl replied. "While they're gone maybe T-Dog can take watch and I'll go with Glenn back to that town where the pawn shop was to get some clothes and stuff. You said we're running out of socks and stuff, and cold weather's comin', you're gonna need some warm clothes…"
"So are you," Allison said. "All those clothes we heisted from the cars on the highway…" she ruminated aloud, "mostly warm-weather shirts. You need underwear, socks, pants…I could use a sweatshirt or two…" she paused and looked up at him. "But I hate to send you out on a clothing run. It could be dangerous."
"I can take care of myself, Angel," he replied.
"I know you can, but I still worry when you're gone. Maybe I could go with you – "
"No," he stated definitely. "I'll be fine with Short Round, OK? We've gone on runs before, we know what to do. And," he playfully chucked her underneath her chin, "He's just girly enough to know what kind of underwear to collect for you women."
"He doesn't even have long hair like the guys in Kiss or Queen and you're implying that he's -?"
"I didn't say 'fag', I said 'girly'. There's a difference."
"OK," Allison sighed sleepily. "I guess it's some sort of guy thing…"
"Don't be givin' me grief, woman," Daryl growled, pulling her closer to him and rubbing his chin on the top of her head. "Just keep quiet and do as you're told," he told her, playfully smacking her on her bottom.
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Early the next morning Rick and Shane set off in a car with Randall tucked away in the trunk. Not long afterward Daryl and Glenn departed for their run into the opposite town from where Glenn and the others had been holed up in Hatlin's Bar.
"I dunno that they really needed to go there," Maggie commented to Allison as the two women watched their men drive off. "We've got plenty of clothes here in the house."
"I'm concerned about them, too," Allison told her, "but the clothes you have here are probably enough for you, Beth and Patricia. Some of the rest of us didn't pack properly when all of this chaos started." She noted Maggie's glare. "I know that Glenn is taking a risk going out scavenging, and for what it's worth I asked Daryl not to go…. But truth is, the weather is getting colder and at the very least the men are going to need some warmer clothes to protect them when they keep watch or hunt for food."
"You're right," Maggie conceded. "Glenn keeps havin' to wear the same few things over and over, and Otis' clothes are way too big for him…. I just fret every time he goes off somewhere…" She hugged herself as she spoke.
At a loss for any comforting words, after a few minutes Allison finally said "Glenn is lucky to have someone who worries after him."
Maggie didn't look at her when she replied quietly, "So is Daryl."
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Glenn and Daryl returned to the farm mid-afternoon with the trunk of their car full of goodies.
"It's all mixed together," Glenn apologized as Lori, Carol and Allison began rooting through the booty. There were packages of both men's and women's underpants, some long underwear, socks, slacks, boots, and other assorted items.
"We can sort the different clothes into piles for now and then let everyone choose by size," Lori announced with authority.
"Whatever," Allison thought as she quickly snatched up a package of tube socks for her and Daryl to share. She'd look through the lingerie and other stuff after Her Majesty had sorted through it all.
"You two got a lot of good stuff," Allison congratulated Daryl a little later as they went back to their tent.
"Yeah, we hit the pawn shop again and found a Family Dollar store not too far from there that was off on a side street that we'd missed before," he replied as they settled down on their sofa logs.
"I'm just happy that you came back safely," Allison confessed. She pulled out her knife and picked up one of the pieces of raccoon hide that she'd been curing and began slicing it into narrow strands, a project she'd been working on for the past few days. Daryl meanwhile started whittling some sticks he'd collected earlier in order to fashion them into bolts.
"I told you I always do," he assured her, focusing on his hands as he worked.
"I know, but I can't help but worry when you venture out like that…it's not like when you're out hunting in the woods, and you might find a walker or two…what with the whole Randall thing and his group, wherever they are…" She looked over at Daryl, her eyes round with concern. "I know that you can handle walkers, but creepy live humans…" She shuddered.
"I came back, didn't I?" he stated. "I always will." He was quiet for a few minutes, as if he was wrestling with something mentally. Finally he stood up and retrieved something from his pocket. "Here," he said almost hastily, extending his hand. Allison looked in his direction and saw a hair barrette in his palm. Not just any barrette, but one with a ruffled surface like one of those wiggle badges that changed the picture as it was manipulated – it caught the light and projected multiple colors. He looked down at the ground as she took it from him and he mumbled "It's a rainbow for your hair."
"Eep," she squeaked as she examined it and then looked up at this wonderful, thoughtful man as he looked away in embarrassment. She gathered a chunk of her hair together and clasped it with the barrette. "Thank you," she managed to gasp as she stood up, letting the raccoon skin drop to the ground. She pulled Daryl close to her and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she repeated, this time whispered directly into his ear, so consumed by emotion that she couldn't think of anything else to say.
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Rick and Shane returned just as dusk fell with Randall still tied up in the trunk, and the two of them battered and bleeding.
"What goes on?" Andrea asked as Shane dragged the prisoner back to the shed.
Rick gestured for the group to follow him back to the camp area. Once there he announced, "There's been a change in plans. Randall knows Maggie, he knows where this farm is."
"So?" Carol asked.
"So he could possibly lead his group back here," Rick replied.
"Does he have a group?" Dale asked.
"He wasn't alone when he was shooting at us in town," Rick said.
"But maybe he's the last of his group, maybe there were no others…" Dale reasoned.
"We heard someone in a vehicle call out to him and leave him behind," Rick stated. "And from what the friends of those men in the bar shouted to one another, we have to believe that Randall was part of a much larger group. We have to re-think this whole situation."
"What exactly happened today?" Lori asked, reaching a hand up to Rick's bleeding forehead.
"There were walkers at the place where we were going to leave Randall," Rick said, not quite meeting her gaze. "We got ambushed."
"So what's the plan, then?" Andrea asked.
"I don't know yet. We're all gonna sleep on it and then discuss the matter tomorrow," Rick stated.