Thank you to everyone who followed or favorited my story, and big squishy kisses to , Gillyflower34, Leah Pensotti, EvilPipeDreamer, Galwidanatitud and Angelicedg for the reviews.
Neither Daryl nor Merle are mine, and everything else is all pretend.
Thank you for reading!
"Ladies and gentlemen, at this time we would like to begin boarding our flight 1942 service to Newark. If you are seated in zone 1 you are welcome to board."
Daryl fidgeted with the straps of his backpack as he walked along the jet bridge beside Aisling, only half-hearing her tell him something about taxi cabs and traffic. She was smiling happily up at him, her face bright and relaxed, her green eyes shining.
Ain't gonna puke… ain't gonna puke...
Fuck, pull yourself together. Millions of people fly all over the place every day, ain't nothing to be a pussy about.
As Daryl stepped onto the plane behind Aisling, and the smiling steward escorted them to seats 1C and 1D at the front of the plane, Daryl found himself breathing a lot faster than he usually would.
The floor beneath his feet felt hollow, like he could just step down hard and go right fucking through it. How the hell was this tin fucking can going to hold together up in the air?
And they were sitting right at the front.
Daryl was no aviation expert, but as far as he knew planes weren't in the habit of reversing down into the ground when they crashed.
If they went down, it was more than likely that they'd go nose first, and there was no way he was getting out of that situation.
He go to his death concertinaed in the wreckage, like a bug between the palms of someone's hands.
While Aisling got everything she'd need out of her bag, Daryl thrust his ratty old backpack at the steward who offered to stow their things in the overhead locker and grumbled a 'thanks'. Settling back into his seat, he tried to figure out the buckle there, before he eventually managed to fasten it and had to suck all his breath in to get it to fit.
Fuck, must be gettin' fat, or this airline usually flies fuckin' skeletons.
"You can loosen it," Aisling whispered in his ear as he tried hard not to turn purple from holding his breath, "here, let me..."
She reached out to loosen the buckle, but her hands were more or less swatted away by a handsome young male steward who smiled right into Daryl's face as he pulled the belt loose.
"There was a kid in this seat on the inbound flight, Mr Dixon, that's why it's pulled so small. There we go..." he patted Daryl's stomach gently, a little too familiarly for Daryl's comfort "perfect."
As he wandered off to help someone else, Daryl glared across as Aisling giggled at his red face, the heat spreading down his neck and up to his ears.
"Shut up," he grumbled, and nudged her shoulder with his.
He hadn't been worried about flying… not that much, anyway. He was a little nervous, but was thinking along the lines of a fast motorcycle ride, and how invigorating that was. This would be similar, but it would take place around 35,000 fucking feet above the ground… and he would have no control over it whatsoever.
He'd been doing okay, giving himself little pep-talks about airline safety, and the unlikelihood of plummeting to earth screaming in a fireball, until Merle rang.
"Glad me an' Heather's drivin' up, lil' brother. Don't trust them fuckin' airlines, coverin' shit up, getting' hijacked by ISIS an' all other kinds of fuckin' fruitcakes, blown planes up an' shit. Ain't nobody gonna find ol' Merle's smokin' carcass strapped in a seat, hangin' from a tree in fuckin' Virginia or nowhere with a big wet patch where I pissed my damn pants on the way down. No siree
And that hadn't helped.
At all.
Daryl felt every slight bounce of the aircraft, each low thud of the other passengers feet as the plane filled and everyone got settled into their seats. Each slam of the overhead lockers made him jump slightly, and when eventually the plane began to slowly reverse out of it's dock his hands gripped the armrests tightly.
He tried to focus on Aisling as she chatted with the same young air steward who had shown them to their seats when he stopped by their seat to tell her that he loved Wild Geese, and say that he'd heard about her art show in New York. Daryl heard her tell the steward to come along to the opening if he was still in the city, and watched as both their concerned gazes fixed on him.
"Are you okay, Daryl?" Aisling whispered, close to his ear, as the plane taxied to the runway and took it's place in the stack ready for take off.
Unable to form words in his mouth, which was dryer than he'd ever felt it, Daryl nodded, then realized he wasn't fooling anyone and shook his head quickly.
Aisling's fingers curled around his, and her warm lips pressed against his ear "It's okay. Take a deep breath in, then blow it out, like you're blowing up a balloon."
Daryl held his breath in, like it was a valuable resource that he couldn't let go.
"C'mon, Daryl. Deep breath in… blow it out."
He glanced at her eyes, full of concern, and if he wasn't so fucking panic stricken he would have been embarrassed at his girlfriend having to talk him down from the little episode he was currently in the middle of.
Nervously, he took a deep, trembling breath, then slowly blew it out between pursed lips. He repeated the action, and, hell, if he wasn't already feeling a little bit calmer.
"You'll like it when we get up there, I promise." Aisling whispered gently, "There's nothing like looking down at the earth through clouds to make the wonder take over the fear."
She rubbed his knuckles with her hand as the plane taxied out onto the runway and the engines fired up.
"Stay with me Daryl, just breath… deep in… blow out."
Daryl nodded, afraid to look at her because he already felt like some kind of freak who had been dropped into the present time from the eighteenth century, but tried to keep up the breathing pattern she had recommended.
Deep in… blow out… deep in… blow out… deep in… they were racing along the runway now, bumping along, and it seemed like everything was rattling, and he could hear the glassware in the trolleys clinking… deep in… fuck, what was that bump?… blow out… the plane took on a noticeable upward tilt as as the bumping suddenly stopped they weren't on the ground anymore.
"Daryl?" he heard Aisling's voice beside his ear, and felt her hand snake around to his jaw, twisting his head to face her. Her soft, full lips pressed against his as she curled her other hand up to cup the nape of his neck.
Fuck. Love her even more for this.
Behavin' like a damn child, and she's all soft mouth an' reassurance.
The feel of her lips against his was instantly calming, but Daryl's body and mind were still at odds with each other.
He was terrified, but aroused. In a state of panic, but also relaxing into the kiss his lover's lips pressed against his, wanting to get closer to her.
"It's okay," she murmured into his mouth, and moved her hands to settle on his broad shoulders, where they gently kneaded the tense muscles she found there.
"Look..."
She moved her lips from his, and gestured to the window beside her, where the cloudy white of an overcast Georgia morning had given way to a vivid blue, above a carpet of white, fluffy clouds.
Cabin crew were already moving around, getting the drinks and snack trolleys out.
"If there was any problem at all, they wouldn't get those out," she whispered soothingly into his ear "Everything is absolutely fine, Daryl."
Noticing how Daryl was suddenly transfixed by the little view he could see from the window by her shoulder, she asked "would you like to swap seats? So you can see?"
Daryl nodded, they unbuckled, and he slid across to take her seat.
As he stood up to switch seats the thought crossed his mind that unbuckling his belt might send the plane into a tail spin, and he froze, but the feel of Aisling's little hand gently squeezing his thigh reassuringly brought him back to reality.
She was his angel all through the flight.
When the steward who had talked about Wild Geese walked past, she had grabbed him, and with wide eyes and a big smile had asked if it would be 'an awful trouble' to get two Woodfords on ice, super quickly. When he'd said "sure thing, Miss O'Brien", she'd switched her best 'you're so awesome' smile on, and thanked him profusely.
This was why she was popular, and he wasn't, Daryl mused.
Aisling knew how to work people.
Then their drinks had arrived, with some peanuts, pretzels, and chips, and Daryl gradually felt his nerves minimize with each mouthful of the cold bourbon that he gulped back.
Halfway, and two more Woodfords into the flight, Daryl was wondering what in the hell he had been so worried about.
Looking down on the clouds was sooo relaxing.
Seeing the earth from this vantage point, with the squares of fields, the outlines of forests, the arteries of road networks spreading beneath them felt like the time he'd accidentally taken two of Merle's E's thinking they were painkillers.
He was unimportant in the grand scheme of things that this planet they inhabited had in store, and that was fine. He was happy to just watch, and marvel at the magnificence of it all.
Aisling squeezed his hand where they lay entwined on the arm rest and he allowed himself to look across at her, heart and stomach melting at the look of love and concern in her eyes.
"This's nice" he whispered, slurring slightly as his mouth caught up with his brain and he realized that drinks on a plane seemed to work faster than drinks on the ground.
"You're nice," he continued, leaning in to capture those full, pink lips of hers in a kiss.
"Can we fly lots? Wanna do it again real soon," he mumbled against her mouth, and snaked his tongue between her teeth to twirl around hers.
*.*
"Why'd ya get me so fuckin' tanked, Ash? Feel like shit now." Daryl grumbled, face down on the bed of their hotel room.
Aisling smirked at her poor, hungover hunter, moaning quietly to himself as he tried to curl into himself.
"I didn't stick a funnel in your mouth and pour the alcohol down your throat, mister. Here, take this… and this."
She held out a bottle of water, cold from the mini bar, and pressed it into his hand.
Daryl looked up to see her also holding out a tiny bottle of bourbon from the mini bar. "The hair of the dog that bit you. You'll feel better afterwards."
The squinty-eyed glare he gave her softened slightly when he saw that she also held a little tub of Pringles, a pair of sunglasses and a small brown bottle with a rubber nipple on top.
"Whass' all this?" he asked, nodding his head towards her hands as he took the bourbon and knocked it back.
Leaning over, she put the sunglasses on his face, tilted his head towards the window where the afternoon sun shone through, and propped the tub of Pringles by his hand.
Then, she gently relieved him of his jacket and shirt, before she straddled his arse and used the dropper on the brown bottle to release a couple of drops of musky oil onto his back.
The oil was in the welcome pack the hotel had provided, and Aisling thought that Daryl could do with a little pampering after his mini-freakout on the plane.
As Aisling's fingers spread out across the skin of his back, pressing gently, softly smoothing, she whispered "Thank you for coming her with me. I'm nervous as hell. Having you here is good."
Daryl felt like shit when she said that.
Here she was, realizing her dream of having an exhibition of her work, and she was nervous. She needed someone to lean on, to support her, and he couldn't even get it together to stay sober for their flight. Hell, he'd fallen asleep as soon as they got in the car and had only woken when she'd gently shook him awake at the hotel, and now she was helping him with his hangover and massaging his fucking back.
Great boyfriending, Dixon.
"No. Uh-uh, stop that," Daryl grunted, and twisted around so that he could slip out from underneath Aisling's body.
She stared at him like he'd gone mad, hands poised in mid-air from where she had been kneading the tension from his flesh.
"Been pampered enough." he continued, "S'real nice n'all, but this trip ain't about me, so c'mon."
He held out a hand to her while his other worked at the buttons on his shirt.
Aisling took Daryl's hand and allowed herself to be raised up from the bed, until she was standing beside him. "What? Where are we going?"
"Gonna take a walk, see some o'the 'Big Apple', then I'm takin' you for dinner," Daryl said matter-of-factly, nodding his head in a full stop as he finished.
*.*
Aisling leaned into Daryl as they walked along the city streets, her arm linked through his. As they passed stores, and she told him how beautiful they would all look in a few weeks when they were decorated for Christmas, all Daryl could think was how nothing could be more beautiful than his girlfriend's big, green, shining eyes looking up at him.
"Hey," he whispered, as he slowed to a stop in front of some big fancy store.
His hands ran up her arms to her shoulders, then one continued on to the nape of her neck, his fingers curling through her hair.
"Ya know I love ya, right?" he rasped, staring down at those eyes of hers.
Aisling nodded, and swallowed. "I know."
Daryl lowered his face to gently press his mouth to Aisling's.
"Ain't never had nothin' like this before," he murmured against her lips, his hot breath ghosting out into the chill evening air "like you, like what we got. Don't tell ya often enough, but you an' me… it means the world to me."
He kissed her, as softly as he could, then gathered her into his arms and held her there in an embrace that he hoped conveyed at least some of the love he was feeling.
They stood there on the busy sidewalk, arms wrapped around each other, as the crowds passed them by, in their own little island.
*.*
"This is the gallery where the exhibition is at," Aisling said, pulling Daryl forward by his hand as she went to the door and peered through the glass. There were her pictures, on the wall, and Sam stood in the middle of the room gesturing towards the far wall as he spoke to a man and woman who went off to readjust something that Aisling couldn't see.
She knocked at the glass with her knuckles, causing Sam to spin around. His face broke into a huge smile when he saw his friend there, and sprinted over to the door to allow her in.
"Ash! I didn't think I'd see you before tomorrow!"
Aisling smiled, and ran her hands up Sam's arms so that she could squeeze his shoulders.
"We were passing."
Sam glanced over his shoulder at the awkward looking man who was staring at his feet.
"Is this Daryl?"
Daryl looked up, and nodded, shyly. "Sam?" he asked, hoping he got the name right.
He expected the tall, dark haired man to maybe nod a hello, or possibly shake his hand. He didn't expect two long, muscular arms to wrap around him and pull him into a tight hug.
"So good to meet you, mate. She's told me so much about you."
After their hellos, Sam showed Daryl and Aisling around the exhibition space, finishing up at Aisling's work.
There, on the wall, were five of Aisling's photographs, and pride of place was Merle with his dick hanging out from the fly of his jeans.
Aisling let loose a little squeal, and leaped into Sam's arms.
"They look amazing! I can't believe this is happening!" she cried as she peppered Sam's cheeks with kisses.
"It's about fucking time, isn't it?" Sam grinned, and hugged his friend close. He had supported her all these years, cheerleading her work, and now her dream was finally being realized and he was thrilled to play a part in that.
He gestured to Daryl, beckoning him over to join in the hug, "Our girl's finally getting the recognition she deserves, Daryl."
Biting his lip, Daryl stepped forward into the embrace and snaked his arms around both Sam and Aisling.
This guy had made her happy, and that made Daryl happy, and damn, if he couldn't hug that man for what he'd done, then he was one sad sonofabitch.
*.*
"Do you think anyone's going to come? I mean, I know people will come, but will lots of people come? And will anyone come to see my stuff? Will they like it?"
Aisling paused for breath and stared at Daryl, waiting for his answers as they sat in the burger restaurant nearby.
Daryl chewed his elk burger, complete with cheese he couldn't pronounce and some fancy-ass relish that he sure as hell had never heard of before, but was fucking gorgeous, and nodded.
"People will come," he mumbled around his food "an' they'll fuckin' love your stuff, Ash."
Aisling looked down at her own burger, untouched on the plate, and sighed "What if they think it's shit? What if they hate it?"
Daryl sucked his fingers clean and reached out to take her hands in his across the table.
"I ain't no art critic, but I think your pictures are great, right? An' if a know-nothin' asshole like me thinks they're great, then people who know shit are gonna think they're great too."
Aisling allowed a bashful smile to spread across her face.
Daryl was really the only opinion who mattered to her.
Yes, if everyone who came to the exhibition hated her work, it would sting, but that Daryl liked it meant everything.
"I love you, Daryl Dixon."
"Love ya' too, Aisling O'Brien. Now eat up, an' lets get back to the hotel 'cause I got real dirty an' sweaty plans for ya'."
