A little bit of humor, domesticity and fluff. Just cause I felt it, with a tiny bit of sad mixed in. I hope y'all like it. I just love making Daryl uncomfortable. Amber's therapist is based on a good nurse friend of mine.

When Amber woke, it seemed like she was hurting everywhere. Not in the panicked sharp way of her flashbacks, but she was just sore. Her left hip and ass cheek, her left shoulder that she was laying on felt the same way a rotten toothache did. But worst of all was the ache deep in the pit of her stomach. In fact, the only thing that felt good on her body was the warm weight that pushed against her back, reached over her and wrapped around to tuck under her left breast where it contacted the bed. Daryl's fingers twitched a tiny bit around her flesh and he sighed into her neck, still asleep. Amber grinned without opening her eyes. She hated to wake him, he had been missing sleep as much as she had. But she knew he would be upset if he knew he was touching her like that in his sleep. It didn't seem to be sexual, more a comfort thing. She couldn't feel any morning wood as he pressed against her. Besides, Amber knew what that ache in the pit of her stomach meant and it needed to be handled. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tugged on the hand that was tucked under her. Daryl resisted, pulling his body around her tighter and muttering.

"Uhuh...mine..."

Amber giggled, he was like a kid with a favorite toy. Moving his hand was out so she was going to have to move her body. She shifted in his arms until she was nearly on her back, his hand under her left shoulder. There, now she could wake him. Daryl's head was snuggled against her right collarbone now so Amber brought up the hand that was trapped between them to run her fingertips through his scruff.

"Come on, Desperado. Gotta wake up, it's..." Amber craned her head over to look at the clock on the nightstand. Amazingly it hadn't broken when she threw it at him. "...eleven thirty. We've slept half the day away." She felt the second he woke up, he went from completely relaxed to having that underlying current of tension he always did when awake, even just with her. It was at it's lowest when they were like this, but still there. Daryl was what her grandmother would call 'high strung'. It was just how he was. He pulled his hand out from under her shoulder to scrub it over his face as he yawned.

"Shit."

Amber smirked. Of course his first word of the day would be profanity. She had a sudden thought and tapped on the side of his face.

"Hey, wake up..."

"I'ma wake. Fuck..." he stretched and carefully pulled his leg out from between hers. Amber rose up on her elbows and turned her head to look at him.

"Did I wake up crazy any last night?"

Daryl's brow furrowed in confusion. "Wake up cra...oh that." he thought for a second. "Ya started kinda mutterin and movin around about six I think. But I talked to ya for a minute and ya went back ta sleep." He grinned up at her sleepily. "That was it."

Amber couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. She had made it almost all night without a screaming episode. "Seven hours, Desperado. Seven hours of sleep." Daryl pushed up on one elbow and Amber lay down so he could lean over her. This felt more natural.

"How ya feel?"

"My left side feels like hell. And..." she didn't get any farther, Daryl was leaning over her, pulling her shoulder up so he could peer at it. She knew he was looking for a bruise. He must not have seen one because he moved down her body, hooking his finger in the waistband of her shorts at her hip to pull them down under her ass on that side. Amber just let him, knowing he wouldn't be satisfied until he checked her out.

"Motherfucker!"

"A bruise?" she asked already knowing the answer.

"Hell yeah a bruise. A damn big one." Daryl ghosted his fingers over the sore spot on the back of her hip for a moment before pulling her shorts back up and laying his face on her stomach.

"I swear to fuckin god, I'm gonna beat the shit outta yore daddy." he said plainly.

"No you're not." Amber said quietly, running her fingers through his hair, knowing it calmed him. "That was my fault. I shouldn't have jumped off the table."

Daryl looked up at her and rolled his eyes, he must not have been convinced. He moved back up her body to look at her face. "Sides that though, ya feel good?"

"I feel rested." she grimaced and squirmed under him. Daryl looked back down at her hip. "It hurt that bad? Ya need ta get checked out?"

Amber shook her head. "It's not that. My period's starting. I'm cramping." Daryl's eyebrows shot up and she fought the urge to laugh. "I'm a woman, Daryl. We do this every so often. And Leigh said it was a good sign if it came on time. Which I think it has. How many days has it been since you came to work for Papaw?"

Daryl fumbled his phone off the table and flipped it to the calendar. She watched his lips move silently as he counted the days.

"T'day's thirty five."

"That's exactly right then. I started the day you came to work. And I have a long cycle. Thirty five days."

He looked down at her uncomfortably after putting his phone back on the nightstand. "S'good, I reckon...Ya sure it's that and not...tha other? Ya coulda popped a stitch or somethin when ya fell..."

Amber rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. I've been doing this for sixteen years. I know what cramps feel like. Now, can you please help me to the bathroom before I ruin my clothes and the bedsheets?"

That was all that was needed to prod him into action. Thirty seconds later Amber was in the bathroom, taking care of her problem while Daryl stood outside the door. The man who had balked at letting her pee by herself a couple days before couldn't get out of the room fast enough now.

"Dammit!" she exclaimed under her breathe but he still heard her.

"What's wrong?" Daryl asked, still standing outside the door.

"Ruined my damn clothes. Can you get me some shorts and panties. Get the purple briefs, they're my period panties. Might as well get me a shirt too."

She heard Daryl rummaging through her drawers, muttering about 'fuckin' period panties'. Then her clothes were tossed at her through the cracked door, Daryl still not risking peeking his head in.

"Desperado, you aren't gonna be freaked out every time I do this are you?"

"Ain't freaked out. Ya bleed that much ever time, that ya ruin ya clothes?"

"You didn't grow up around any women did you?" Amber asked rhetorically.

"Just ain't fuckin natural."

"What do you mean, not natural? It's the MOST natural thing there is."

"Ain't no animal in the woods that can bleed for a week and live."

Amber couldn't help but chuckle as she hopped to the sink to wash her hands. Daryl had no problem gutting and skinning a two hundred pound buck, but freaked his ass out over two tablespoons of period blood. The man had a lot to learn about the female species. God only knew how he would act when they had a baby. WHOA! Amber nearly fell over when she caught herself thinking that! That was...that was not EVEN on the table! She had been concerned when she first found out the extent of her injuries, of course she had. She knew Kaye had to have a hysterectomy ten years before. But that had been in general, not specifically thinking about kids ANY time soon. They had only been together a month, and been on fast forward for most of that. She was just enjoying them getting to know each other now. And Daryl definitely wasn't thinking along those lines. He acted uncomfortable just seeing her take her birth control pills.

Amber busied herself with throwing her clothes in the washing machine that was tucked into the linen closet just behind her. She used to mentally gripe about the bathroom being so small but it was perfect now. She could move around, although clumsily, on one foot while holding on to the counter. Amber never would have thought just being able to navigate through her own bathroom would be a victory. As soon as she turned the washer on Daryl was coming through the door.

"I coulda done that instead of ya hoppin around and fallin again."

Amber looked up at him with a smirk. "So you would have picked up my BLOODY clothes and put them in the washer?"

Daryl huffed, bending down to hook his arms under her back and thighs to pick her up. "So I guess ya bein on the rag makes ya a smartass too, huh?"

"Nope, I'm that way all the time."

Daryl opened his mouth to agree but then shut it. There wouldn't be any good way out of that. He just went to place her on the couch but Amber shook her head. "No, I gotta make you some biscuits, remember?"

"Ya feel like it?"

"If every woman on the planet stopped doing everything when they were on their period, the whole world would come to a standstill. So yes you get biscuits."

Daryl wasn't going to argue so he planted Amber on the bar and turned to grab her the buttermilk and her favorite mixing bowl. She could pull the flour and shortening down from where she sat. He lit a cigarette while she dumped the ingredients in the bowl, eyeballing the amounts instead of measuring, just like Roxie had taught her. She started mixing with a wooden spoon and Daryl pulled the cig out of his mouth long enough to lean in and place a kiss on her cheek as she worked.

"You best be careful." she grinned, "You get ashes in my biscuits and I'll mix them in and make you eat every one."

"Still be better than mine."

She was rolling them out now, and cutting them out with the mouth of a mason jar, not needing any fancy biscuit cutters.

"Are you dead set on having pear preserves with these this morning?"

Daryl shrugged. "You got something better?"

Amber looked up at him. "Get me the cocoa powder and sugar from over the stove."

TWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAU

Chocolate gravy. Mother fuckin chocolate gravy. Daryl had no idea who had taught her to make THAT but he would be eternally grateful. He pushed back from the plate in front of him that had just been emptied for the third time, to light a cigarette. He didn't want to ask Amber to do it because she was still eating. Daryl eyed the last two biscuits that sat in the pan on the stove, longingly.

"Don't you dare, Daryl." Amber warned. "You'll make yourself sick."

He shrugged. "You're gonna make me fat."

"I would say that way we could be fat together, but it would get me in trouble."

He flicked his ash into the ashtray. "Yep, ya know better, girl. Sides, ya gotta get that fifteen pounds back."

Daryl looked up at Amber, just as she licked the last of the chocolate from the back of her spoon. He immediately looked back down at the ashtray, willing his traitorous cock back down. She was hurt, and now on the rag, and he still got hard just by watching her lick a damn spoon. It looked like he was going to need a shower soon, and not for hygiene purposes.

"Ya done?" he asked, trying to find something else to occupy his mind.

"With my plate. Can you fix me a another cup of coffee?"

Daryl took her plate and her cup, one went into the sink and he hesitated at the coffee pot.

"We ain't got but half a bag of sugar left. That be enough for ya?"

"Smartass."

Daryl snorted, dumping the spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee along with her hazelnut creamer. When he turned back around Amber was facing the couch on her barstool, her back against the counter. Daryl made his way to her side and sat her coffee behind her.

"What're ya doin?"

She looked up at him. "The couch is right here. I don't even have to hop, I can just stand up and pivot."

Daryl ran his hand over his face and sighed. He really wanted to just pick her up and move her over.

"Fine. G'head and do it while I'm standin here."

Amber gave him a surprised look before pushing up and turning. She wavered a bit and Daryl had to make a fist to keep from grabbing her arm. The one closest to him had been grabbed enough, it had the marks to prove it. A second later she plopped down on the couch.

"I did it!"

"Yeah, girl. Ya did." He wondered how many times they would repeat those words in the coming months. Daryl handed her the coffee and took a seat next to her. He had pulled on his jeans while the biscuits cooked but still didn't have a shirt.

"Therapy's at four right?" she asked over the rim of her cup.

"Yeah. Figured we'd leave a half hour before. Gives us a little over two hours. What'ya wanna do?"

"I'd rather take my bath after. I'll end up sweating while I work."

"I'm takin my shower here in a minute." He didn't elaborate on the why.

Amber nodded. "Why don't you hand me those towels out of the dryer and I'll fold them while you get in?"

"A'ight."

Daryl flicked his ash into the ashtray on the end table. It seemed he had accumulated one in every one of his 'spots' around the house. Amber had done that. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor just thinking. Amber reached over and began to run her hand down his back, smoothing over each of his scars, one by one. He couldn't help but sigh and lean into her touch.

"Will you tell me the truth, if I asked you something?"

Daryl stubbed out his cig and looked at her. "Well, yeah. Ya know that."

"Are you getting bored? Like...you're not working. It's so quiet, you just take care of me, stuff like that. I worry about you."

"About me or about us?"

Amber looked down and he had his answer. Daryl moved over until he was right next to her, turning so he could look at her more easily.

"Ya want tha truth?"

Amber nodded down at her lap.

"Nope. Not bored a bit."

She looked up at him and he knew she had barely avoided tears. Daryl really hoped he wasn't going to have to deal with this every thirty five days.

"Really?"

"Yes, baby girl, really. Ya know tha kinda home I grew up in. Wasn't no home. Daddy like he was, Merle strung out. Then all the shit over the last month. I'll take chocolate gravy, an laundry, an all this other shit any day. An I'll be goin back ta work as soon as ya well. I'd feel like I'm on a damn vacation, if ya wasn't hurt. Not that I'd know what one was like."

"Huh? You've never been on a vacation? Anywhere?"

"Daddy wasn't the type ta take trips. Didn't have no money no way."

"Not even riding up to Gatlinburg or Florida?" Amber seemed totally shocked by his revelation. Daryl just shook his head back at her and Amber grinned.

"Well, as soon as I get better, we're gonna fix that."

Daryl raised his eyebrow at her. "Don't start thinkin ya gonna blow that money from the club on a trip."

Amber rolled her eyes. "Dang, Daryl. I'm not talking two weeks in Hawaii. I think we can handle five days in the mountains or at the beach."

He shrugged. "Whatever. Up ta you."

"Well, don't get so excited." Amber punched him in the arm playfully and he grabbed her hand, intwining his fingers with hers. He looked down as he spoke quietly.

"Just ain't used to it."

"Used to what?"

"Somebody givin a shit about me. Bout what I ain't got ta do before, or what I want ta do."

Amber was a little shocked. It was so easy to forget that Daryl had never really been loved before. She had been surrounded by family and club family growing up, somebody caring was her normal.

"Hey..." she put the fingers of her free hand against his scruff and gently made him look at her. "Remember when we took that bath together, and you told me I was yours?" Daryl nodded, nudging his face against her hand. The look in his eyes made her heart sick. He looked like a sad broken little boy. In a lot of ways, he still was. "Well, you're mine too. That means I get to spoil you. Chocolate gravy, and long weekends somewhere."

Daryl reached up and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. "Damn, I love ya, baby girl." he murmured before kissing her. He was so gentle that it nearly made her weep, coupled with her hormones.

"I love you too, Desperado. Now go get in the shower. We got boring normal shit to do today."

TWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAU

Daryl leaned up against the wall of the physical therapy department. The therapist that was working with Amber now had tried to tell him to wait out in the waiting room. That hadn't gone over well, especially since she had been assigned a man. She had taken it well, even if Daryl hadn't. He supposed the fact that the man was obviously as queer as a three dollar bill helped some. He had positively swished as he walked them through the doors to the main therapy room. Amber just looked up at Daryl from her wheelchair with a mischievous grin as he pushed her in her wheelchair. Even so, he could tell the guy was doing his best to only touch her where he had to in order to get his job done and Daryl was grateful to him for that. Just not comfortable with him.

That damn wheelchair too. Amber had demanded he put it in the back of the truck so she could use it while they were in town. At first he thought maybe she didn't want to be picked up by him in front of people but then she pointed at his sling and told him to put it on. He didn't even like the way she looked sitting in the chair, like she was some kind of cripple. Amber had even figured out a way to pull herself into the truck with Daryl helping with just his left arm.

The first half hour of her therapy had been the same exercises they had been doing at home. But the second had been teaching Amber to walk with crutches and he liked that just about as well as he did the wheelchair. Maybe less, since she was more likely to fall using those. The look on her face was enough to make him keep his mouth shut though. She was beaming as she worked across the room and back, sweat dripping down her face. Then she was done, taking her seat in her wheelchair and propping her crutches alongside as the therapist asked Daryl to step into his office. He followed him into the glassed in room, looking back at Amber pensively. She gave him a limp wristed wiggle of her fingers and puckered her lips as if making kissy noises. Daryl just gave her a scowl back. He was going to whip her ass, she thought she was so damn funny.

The therapist, whose name tag identified as Jason, shut the door behind Daryl and motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk as he took a seat behind it.

"I'll stand." Daryl fiddled with his fidget band, where it emerged from his sling on his wrist.

The man nodded and looked at Amber's chart for a second before looking up

"I'm sure your aware, Mr. Dixon, that Amber lost a significant amount of weight while hospitalized."

Daryl nodded. "I'm makin her eat so she gets it back."

Jason shook his head. "Eating alone isn't going to do it. From what I understand, Amber was used to strenuous farm work."

"Yeah, she worked right alongside me, just as hard."

"A large amount of what she has lost is muscle mass. Most people with injuries like hers gain upper body strength after they are released from the hospital, because they are having to push a wheelchair or use crutches. She has lost some. I get the feeling you aren't letting her do for herself."

Daryl shrugged and Jason stood to walk around his desk, hitching himself up on the front to sit. Daryl became obviously more uncomfortable and Jason rolled his eyes.

"Listen, honey. I don't go for biker types. And it's obvious you worship the ground she walks on. Gay ain't catchin, sweetie."

Daryl tried to keep his mouth from falling open. Why, that little fairy...what exactly was he supposed to say to that? Thankfully Jason just returned to his previous subject.

"You've got to stop picking her up every time. Let her use the wheelchair and the crutches, her muscles have got to build back and diet is only part of it."

"Don't like her lookin like that. She ain't no goddamn cripple." Daryl growled, trying to sound imposing. Surprisingly, Jason didn't back down, fairy or not.

"I understand how you feel. My partner was in a car accident a couple years ago. It killed me to watch him go through the recuperation, especially since I'm a therapist and knew more than the average person. But there were times I just had to shut up and let him try. And sometimes I had to let him fail."

"She's been hurt enough. I ain't about ta let'er hurt herself."

"I said fail, not fall. You can help her, be there to catch her. But every day you baby her, is one more day longer until she can walk again."

Daryl looked up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Jason. He felt a little bad for judging him, the man obviously cared and knew his shit when it came to his job. Daryl could respect that.

"How long ya think that'll be? Till she walks on her own?"

Jason sighed. "I really can't say. She's motivated, young, and in overall good shape when she was injured. Those work together to shorten the time it takes. She's moving under her own power as of today, with the crutches."

"I don't mean that."

Jason held up his hand for a second. "I know. This is a small town, we don't see a lot of injuries like hers. But from my experience..." he hesitated as if wary of Daryl's reaction to what he was about to say. "she could be walking on her own in six months, with only a slight limp. But she could also require the use of a cane, at least part time, for the rest of her life. We just don't know."

"She loves ta dance."

Jason shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry. The odds are against that."

Daryl ran his hand through his hair, trying to contain himself. He couldn't take his frustration out on the man in front of him. He was just telling the truth. That was something else he could respect him for. Daryl finally just put his hands on his hips and looked at the ground and nodded.

"A'ight. Anythin else?"

"No. We'll see her again in two days. And she needs to be using the crutches for at least half of her transfers and movement around the house."

Five minutes later Daryl was pushing Amber's wheelchair up to the the truck. He unlocked the door and opened it, maneuvering her chair until she was parallel to the seat. She looked up at him and he just looked back.

"Aren't you going to help me?" she asked as if confused.

Daryl shook his head. "Try by yourself first. Then if ya can't I'll help."

Amber looked up at him and grinned. Daryl just made a 'get to it' motion with his hand. "Go on. Get your ass up in the truck. We ain't got all day, got shit ta do at home."