Chapter 17 - A night to forget
Lying in bed that night, Daryl was sinking in the mire of churning confusion, his mind spinning like a tornado, though his body burned for sleep.
God, he was still seething at his big-mouthed brother who just had to barrel in at the worst possible time and spout his fucking opinions like they were gospel. But, and Daryl hated to admit it, he couldn't deny the logic of some of the things Merle had said.
He'd never been close to many people, especially not physically (sex withstanding), so the fact that he'd become close to Tahlia who also happened to be effervescent with affection (to everyone, not just him, he knew that) certainly was new ground for him, and he liked it. A lot. He liked the way he was unfurling under her attention, responding; liked that he was huggable, because fuck, wouldn't have goddamned guessed it from his childhood. And, best of all, he liked learning that he could have physical intimacy without it leading directly to sex. It was refreshing. He would never have thought that he could be so familiar with someone, hold her hand, hug her, lay with her in his arms without things going further. But, of course, he'd thought about it going further. Wanted it to. And therein lay the root of his confusion because maybe Merle was right and this was just some long, drawn out, fucked up foreplay, and after sex that itch would be scratched and there'd be nothing between them at all and he'd go back to empty indifference, because there really had never been anyone who was anything more for him, so why would she be?
But that just didn't sound right in his head, although he couldn't be sure. Didn't know what to do from here. So he did nothing.
Ignored her text on Monday.
And her phone call on Tuesday.
Didn't hear from her on Wednesday.
And by Thursday he decided that doing nothing wasn't helping because he missed her, and yeah, maybe sleeping with her would ruin what they had and he didn't want to risk that, but there was no reason that things couldn't just stay as they were, no reason for him to stop hanging out with her, because the one thing he was sure of was that their friendship was genuine.
So, he picked up the phone.
He told her it had been a busy week and the days had gotten away on him, but he was all set to buy her a night's worth of drinks at Fox's on Friday, seen as he supposed technically he'd lost the bet at the pool in the woods. Happy as always to hear from him, Tahlia laughed and said she'd have to take a raincheck because she had a work dinner Friday, so he said what about if he picked her up after he finished work on Saturday, but she said sorry, she had a function Saturday night too, and on Sunday afternoon she had plans with Rick and Michonne. Daryl wanted to suggest Sunday morning or right now, but that felt too desperate, so he just said, fine, some other time then; and when he hung up the phone he was put out by the fact that now he missed her even more.
That evening, Daryl was moodily sprawled on the sofa aimlessly channel surfing while Merle chopped vegetables at Andrea's instruction, Andrea herself pacing the porch as she talked on the phone.
"God," she exclaimed with a hand pressed to her forehead as she came back inside, "Nan's had a fall and broken her hip!"
"What? Aw honey." Merle moved to hug her. "Sorry to hear that. She in the hospital?"
"Yeah, mom's just taken her in. Nan's ok, but mom's so upset. I think I'm going to need to go back down and see them."
"Alright," said Merle easily as he went back to his task. "I can take a half-day tomorrow. Drive ya down. Stay the weekend again."
"Oh, you don't have to…" She trailed off, then clasped her hands at her chest in hope. "Would you? Would you come with me?"
"Course, baby." grinned Merle. "Gotta check on Nan. Bring her some flowers or somethin'."
A gooey, tender smile spread on Andrea's face, and Daryl rolled his eyes and sank further down into the couch, until Andrea said, "Shit. I'm supposed to be going to that thing with Tahly on Saturday."
That made him sit back up, and he looked over at Andrea, waiting for her to elaborate, but Merle spoke first.
"She'll be fine. She's gonna know other people there, right?"
"Yeah, she will," conceded Andrea, taking a seat at the table, "But I wanted to be there for her because I know how tough it can be for her to see her dad."
"What's this?" Daryl piped up, unable to hold his tongue. "Why's she seein' her dad?"
"Oh, he's running this charity fundraiser on Saturday. He always sends her tickets to events that he wants her to show face at so that they can get a photo together and he can keep up appearances as the caring father for the public eye, even though he's unfailingly a massive prick to her and she should just tell him to get fu –" Andrea broke off and pursed her lips to stop herself from ranting, then shook her head. "It's just frustrating because he's been consistently cold to her for so long, yet she always shows up hoping that he'll change and then gets upset when he doesn't. Anyway. It is what it is. So, she's going to this fundraiser and I was going to be her plus one. You know, support her. Be her shoulder to cry on."
"He makes her cry?" asked Daryl, appalled.
Andrea shrugged. "Sometimes." Then she waved a hand. "Oh, look, I'm making it sound a lot worse than it is. She's been to so many of these things, she'll be totally fine, it's not a big deal."
Picking at a hole in the sofa cushion, Daryl chewed his lip in contemplation for a long moment.
"I could go."
Andrea's eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"With her. To the thing."
Merle made a loud, disparaging noise, but before he could say anything, Daryl glared at him.
"As her fuckin' friend, you asshole. Can't tell me not to do that, so shut up."
"Ooh, alright! Alright!" smirked Merle, holding his hands up in submission at Daryl's fierce outburst.
Flicking her gaze curiously between the brothers and wondering what that was all about, Andrea settled on Daryl.
"Really? You'd go?"
Daryl gave a hesitant shrug.
Leaning forward in her seat, Andrea fixed him with a disbelieving look. "You're actually offering to accompany Tahly to a black-tie, silent auction fundraiser for a children's charity?"
"Uh…" looking momentarily panicked, Daryl's brow creased. "Yeah? I guess? Wait. What's black-tie mean?"
"Like suits." supplied Merle, slightly bemused by this turn of events, then added, "And a silent auction's where they got all the stuff laid out and you write your bid next to the things instead of some fuckface up front yellin' shit out like he's on crack for each one."
"Right." Daryl murmured thoughtfully, digesting this, then turned back to Andrea. "Don't gotta sit down for no fancy dinner or nothin', do I?"
"No, not this one. It's cocktails and canapés – like, finger food. You just walk around and schmooze. But you don't have to schmooze."
"Good. Coz I dunno what the fuck that is neither." Biting on his lip, he then nodded decisively. "Yeah. I'll go."
"Daryl." Andrea said, deadly serious. "If you say you're going to go, you can't flake on her last minute. Not with this."
"Ain't gonna do that."
"I mean it. Don't you let her down."
"Swear I won't." promised Daryl earnestly, "Gonna go and stick right by her." Then he glowered at Merle, steeling himself for a repeat rebuke, a derisive remark at least, but to his surprise, his brother just crossed his arms and held his tongue.
"Ok." agreed Andrea with an appreciative smile. "Ok, I'll let her know."
Spritzing her hair with hairspray one final time to hold the soft waves in place, Tahlia jumped a little when she heard the buzz of the intercom.
It had been a strange week, Daryl-wise.
Their time at the cabin had spun them closer and then culminated in that unexpected intensity when he dropped her home which, she conceded sheepishly, she had obviously misread because instead of rushing to see her again, he'd gone radio silence on her for the first half of the week. Seemed that there was a pattern – if he thought she was getting too close, getting hopeful for something more, then he pulled away, a subtle reminder that friendship was as far as this went for him. And, she thought wryly, it was (if a little embarrassing) probably necessary because clearly, she hadn't quite accepted that yet. But it seemed there was no damage done as things felt normal between them again.
She'd certainly been surprised though, when Andrea had told her that she couldn't go to the fundraiser and Daryl had offered to go in her place, but she'd taken it with a grain of salt because of what had happened the last time he said he'd go to a function with her. Even when he'd called earlier that day to tell her he'd be at hers at 6:30, she still didn't quite believe it, and had mentally prepared herself to go alone. So, yeah. The buzzer had startled her.
Carefully smoothing her simple black evening dress, she padded barefoot to the intercom and buzzed him up, opening the door and leaning casually against the frame as he made his way up the two flights of stairs.
"Dixon!" she greeted him as he came into view. "I've got to say, I wasn't actually expecting you to - oh my God, look at you! You look incredible!"
Hand flying to her chest, she gasped in admiration as he arrived on the landing, and she took a step back to appraise his dark gray suit and tie, crisp white shirt and polished shoes, while he ducked his head to hide his now-flaming cheeks.
"Holy crap, you clean up real nice!" she enthused, then spun a finger in the air. "Do a turn for me."
Self-conscious enough as it was, Daryl glared at her. "Piss off."
"Honestly, you look so -"
"Fuckin' stop it, Tahly, or I'm gonna leave."
Pursing her lips to try and contain the huge smile that was glowing from her, she waved a hand in front of him and mouthed, I love it!
Grabbing her hand, he gave it a hard squeeze. "I get it! Now stop." Then he raked his gaze over her perfect elegance and softened. "Ain't so bad yourself."
She smiled and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them, then she stepped in towards him and carefully adjusted the knot of his tie while he tilted his chin up to let her.
"Thank you for doing this. I know this is way out of your comfort zone, and I really appreciate it. But I also wanted to say that you don't have to come. I don't want to make you do something you really don't want to do."
Dropping his gaze to hers, he huffed out a breath. "Wanna."
Tahlia laughed softly. "Liar."
A flash of a smile sped across his lips, then he was serious again. "Nah. Wanna be there for ya. And if it means I gotta wear all this shit, then that's what I gotta do."
"You do look really amazing.
He gave her a gentle shove and tried not to look pleased. "Yeah, yeah. Heard ya the first hundred times."
"It's going to be fine." she assured him solemnly.
"You sayin' that for me or you?"
"Ugh." Tahlia made a face. "Both of us, I think. Want a drink? We've got time."
"Naw."
"You look like you could use one."
"Sure could, but I'm drivin' ya. I'll just have one when we get there and that'll do."
"Are you sure you don't want to just get a cab?"
Daryl shook his head. He'd already told her honestly that if he didn't stay sober tonight, there was a high chance that he'd end up throwing a punch at her father, and they both agreed that wouldn't be ideal.
"Nah. I'll drive. If I drink tonight, I'll probably end up needin' a lawyer."
Laughing, Tahlia nodded. "That would certainly be a messy case for me. Alright," she said, slipping into her high heels by the door. "If you're sure, then let's do this."
The venue for the fundraiser was a sprawling historic mansion on the city fringe, and Daryl couldn't help but smirk as he drove through the manicured grounds and nestled his beat-up truck between a Lamborghini and a Porsche in the parking lot. His self-satisfaction quickly faded, however, as they made their way up to the grand arched entrance and were greeted by the host and directed through to the ballroom, which was all vaulted ceilings and chandeliers and opulence to a degree that he had never seen before. Taking in the champagne fountain, crowds of flower arrangements, glitzy decorations, and the constant sweep of waiters carrying trays of food and drinks around the pockets of people, Daryl wondered at the irony of such expense on a function for charity and the type of people that all this just felt normal to. He'd never felt more like a fish out of water, and when a passing waiter offered him a glass of champagne he downed the lot before his tastebuds could register the fact that they found it horrible.
Tahlia raised her brows in amusement. "You doing ok?"
"Yep." he replied, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Better now."
"Alright, I'm going to have to talk to some people, but I'll do my best to keep it brief. Follow me."
By the time they had made it to the center of the room, Daryl's hand had already been shaken more times than he could count by people whose names he'd never remember, and, a little overwhelmed, he inched closer to Tahlia, endlessly impressed by the way she smiled and small-talked and charmed so effortlessly.
"Sorry," she said after she'd hooked her arm through his and politely excused them from a particularly dull elderly couple who were intent on describing every idiosyncrasy of their precious Siamese cats. "This is awful for you."
"Nah. Ain't that bad."
And that was true based on two things – one, was that Tahlia did all the talking so he wasn't forced to attempt awkward conversation, and he got to stand there and stare at her and marvel at how goddamned lovely she was; and the second thing was that, after he'd become somewhat accustomed to the grandeur around him, he realized that being rich didn't automatically make you better, smarter, worthier or even more interesting than anyone else - just gave you a bigger bank balance. These people were still just people, some of them were cool, some weren't, and though this level of fancy would never be his scene, he didn't feel nearly as out of place as he had to begin with.
"You're doing amazing." Tahlia told him with a mischievous glimmer in her eye as she grabbed a fresh glass of champagne. "All the ladies are fascinated by this mysterious, dark, handsome stranger on my arm. You'll definitely have a few phone numbers by the end of the night."
Daryl rolled his eyes and bit back his smile. "You're a dick."
"Oh, hey, there's someone I would love you to meet." Tahlia pointed over to the bar where a distinguished looking white-haired man in a three-piece suit was ordering a drink.
The man caught sight of them as they approached and smiled fondly at Tahlia, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
"Hello, dear. I was starting to wonder if maybe you'd decided to boycott this event."
Tahlia gave a wry laugh. "Can you imagine? Daddy would be absolutely scandalized." Then she pulled Daryl a little closer. "Daryl, this is Hershel Greene, one of the partners at the firm. He and I work very closely together."
"It's a pleasure, son." said Hershel warmly, shaking Daryl's hand, then tipped his head towards Tahlia. "This one interned for me way back in law school and I just knew I needed her on my team. Offered her a job after graduation and never looked back. Absolute privilege to know her."
"Right back at you." grinned Tahlia, nudging him. "So, we've bumped into a few of the regulars. Poor Daryl is slowly losing the will to live."
"Whiskey might help." said Hershel knowingly, ordering a double for Daryl. "It certainly makes things more –" he broke off and sent a pointed look in the direction of the champagne fountain. "Ah. You're being summoned."
Both Tahlia and Daryl followed Hershel's gaze to where an expensive looking, portly man with slicked back salt and pepper hair and a distinctly cavalier air beckoned to Tahlia, a smile on his face but nothing warm in his slate gray eyes.
"Oh." Tahlia instantly straightened up at the sight of her father. "Ok. I'd better…"
"Go." instructed Hershel gently. "Daryl and I will wait here. Chin up, darlin'."
They watched as Tahlia, shadowed with apprehension, made her way to her father who pressed a cursory kiss on her cheek before introducing her to the two men standing at his side.
Hershel passed Daryl a tumbler of whiskey. "I hope you don't mind, son, but I thought it best you steer clear of him. It can be very difficult to watch the two of them interact, and more difficult still to keep quiet about it, and she wouldn't appreciate someone calling him out for her, causing a fuss. She's not quite ready to stand up to him, to separate herself. She will be though, one day soon, I know it. But unfortunately, until then, I think we just need to let it play out."
Daryl nodded in understanding as he watched Tahlia with a camera-ready smile plastered on her face as she posed for pictures with her dad and a host of other people. "I get it. But I don't like it. Don't like the way he makes her go all small and… like, cloudy. That ain't her."
Studying Daryl curiously, Hershel raised his brows. "That's a very astute observation. She did say you were perceptive."
Slightly surprised that Tahlia had spoken about him at all, Daryl just gave a timid shrug, his eyes still fixed on her.
They were alone now, Tahlia and Oliver. He was speaking to her, and though he remained composed as if he were acutely aware that they were in public, Daryl could see that his expression was hard, his manner caustic, and it was unnerving to watch Tahlia folding in on herself, cowed and shrinking before him, and Daryl clutched his glass tighter – he hadn't touched a drop of the whiskey yet, and certainly wouldn't dare to after witnessing this because it really wouldn't take much for him to fire up for her.
Sensing the tension rolling off Daryl, Hershel attempted to diffuse it by talking a little about his family – about his daughters who ran the family farm just a couple of hours northeast of the city; about his plan to slow his pace and eventually move back up there with them in his retirement, and Daryl tried to listen, he did, he was just finding it difficult to tear his attention from Tahlia. Then Hershel tapped his arm.
"Would you excuse me, Daryl? There's just someone I need to speak with. Tell Tahlia I'll catch up with her later on. It was wonderful to finally meet you. She thinks the world of you, you know."
That drew Daryl's gaze, and he could only manage a polite nod to Hershel's retreating form, the older man's words tumbling over in his mind. And then, all of a sudden, Tahlia was back in front of him, her arms pulled tight around her waist, that fake smile on her face and the lie of it in her eyes.
Daryl immediately frowned in concern. "Y'ok?"
"Yep! Yep. Yes. Fine!" she replied, too fast, too bright, her gaze skittish as she searched for words to fill the air between them. "So, Hershel… Hershel left, did he? Sorry, I hope you haven't been on your own too long. Are you going to…?" she indicated the drink in his hand, then took it and downed it in one, coughing a little as she handed it back to him. "Thanks."
Raising his eyebrows, Daryl turned to put the glass on the bar, and the bartender caught his eye.
"Another?"
Daryl wrinkled his nose and nodded. "Think so. Make it a triple."
"So…" continued Tahlia vaguely, smoothing her dress in agitation. "Want to um… look at… look at some of the things for auction?"
"Tahly."
"Or if you're hungry, I heard there's some real good pastry things floating around somewhere, we should find them for sure, we should…"
"Tahly." Reaching for her with one hand, he lifted her chin with the other, forcing her to look at him.
And when she met his eyes, she found so much care and concern waiting there, and he was so strong and safe that she started to unravel.
"Alright." Daryl said quickly as soon as he saw her eyes starting to brim. "C'mon."
Scooping her against him with one arm, he grabbed the freshly poured whiskey with the other and and then shepherded her through the throng, keeping a sufficiently mean-looking expression on his face to dissuade anyone from talking to them.
Once out in a dark corner of the patio, Daryl set the glass down on a ledge and caught hold of Tahlia's forearms.
"What happened? What'd he say to ya?"
With a harsh laugh, Tahlia shrugged, a small flurry of tears slipping down her cheeks at the same time.
"Same old. Why haven't I made partner yet; why did I say something stupid in that interview; why didn't I make a better impression on so-and-so; why did I lose this case, that case – he tracks my losses, did I tell you that? Because they make him look bad. Doesn't matter how many I win, he never wants to talk about those. And the worst part is, I still try to impress him. I try to be all shiny and golden even though it will never be good enough for him. Why do I even care?" She threw her hands up, shaking her head. "Two decades of him not giving a shit and yet I turn up to every single one of these fucking things and believe that one day he'll be happy to see me, be proud of me. God. Slap me. Daryl, fucking slap me."
"Ain't gonna slap ya." murmured Daryl, a sad smile tugging on the corner of his lips, and then he pressed the whiskey into her hands. "Give ya this, though. Why do ya care? You ain't never care what no one thinks of ya."
Taking two big gulps, she winced. "Holy Jesus, that's a slap in the face of its own." Then she heaved a sigh. "I do though. Care. I care what everyone thinks. That's why I'm so nice to people even when I don't want to be. And I wish I didn't care what he thinks, but I can't help it. It's ridiculous, I know. I'm ridiculous and so far from perfect, but am I really that hard to… hard to…"
"Tahly."
"...to love? Am I?"
"Stop. C'mere." Heart fraying, Daryl enveloped her and clutched her to his chest, feeling the telltale shudder of her shoulders.
"Am I that fucking disappointing?"
"Ain't nothin' disappointin' 'bout y'at all. Not a damn thing." he murmured fiercely, kissing the top of her head, stroking her hair, trying with all his might to focus only on her and not on striding back inside and decking her dad.
Sinking into him for an indulgent moment, Tahlia then quickly pulled away and swiped at her eyes.
"Shit. Shit, I'm sorry. This is so stupid – privileged rich kid whining about how daddy isn't proud enough, when other people have real problems to cry about. Bet you didn't think that you were signing up for all this."
Daryl squinted at her. "Andie warned me it might go this way."
"Oh God." breathed Tahlia in wide-eyed mortification. "That's so much worse."
A waitress passed by with cocktail glasses filled with some fancy looking concoction, and Daryl snagged two, handing one to Tahlia who downed it with impressive speed, wrinkling her nose at the strength of it, and then Daryl passed her the other.
Maybe it wasn't a good idea to get her drunk, but she seemed to be relaxing, spacing out with the alcohol, and he'd be right there with her all night, so what was the harm?
And like she read his mind, she took a gulp of the second glass and stated, "You're trying to get me drunk. You do know that if I trip over my dress or say something I shouldn't or do something unforgivable in the public eye, he'll disown me, right?" Then she stuck her nose in the air and affected a mock-haughty tone. "It does not please his majesty for his offspring to act so terribly uncouth."
Didn't make Daryl smile though. Kinda just made him feel murderous.
"Hate that he does this to ya." he told her, voice low, barely controlled. "Makes y'all… wobbly."
"Pathetic, I know."
"Don't." he hissed, so vehemently it made her jump. "You ain't. He's fuckin' pathetic. Sorry excuse of a dad and he don't fuckin' deserve you."
And then Tahlia found herself wrapped up in his arms again, soft-somethings murmured against her ear and the steady thud of his heart against hers. Kinda made it hard to remember what was worth getting so upset about, because everything suddenly felt pretty good as it was.
Eventually they made their way back inside, Tahlia calm and warm from alcohol and Daryl's tenderness, and they wandered around the auction hall arm-in-arm, Daryl doing his best to keep a smile on her face with his low mockery of some of the ridiculous items up for grabs as they shamelessly snatched snacks from passing trays.
She was still giggling from Daryl's derision of an abstract painting that he said 'looked like a dog sat in paint and dragged its ass across the canvas', when calls to gather in the ballroom sounded, and they trailed in alongside the others, Daryl huffing out a breath of displeasure when he saw Oliver onstage, ready to deliver his big, engaging thank-you-for-coming-and-supporting-a-deserving-charity speech. And, to Daryl's chagrin, Oliver was actually a charismatic and captivating speaker who easily commanded the room, but when he started on a heartfelt monologue about the importance of family and emotional support for children, Daryl gritted his teeth and was barely able to resist the urge to yell out what a fucking hypocrite he was. And then he looked to Tahlia at his side, that fake, pleasant smile on her face that was belied by the sag of her shoulders, and he reminded himself that Oliver wasn't the focus here. Reaching for her hand, he gently worked his fingers between hers then squeezed tightly, feeling her squeeze gratefully back. But Oliver kept talking, waxing lyrical about providing for the children and giving them loving homes, and Daryl quickly had heard enough.
Stepping in behind Tahlia, he slipped an arm around her waist and dropped his mouth to her ear.
"Let's go."
"What?"
"Don't gotta stay and listen to this shit. Let's go."
Tahlia glanced up at him, stunned at the suggestion, like it had never occurred to her that she could just walk away from her father; but in that moment with Daryl at her side, it felt like she could do anything, so she gave a faint nod and let him turn her around.
With one arm firmly around Tahlia, Daryl sent a last glance at the stage behind him, and out of the corner of his eye spotted Hershel a few pockets of people away watching them with a small smile on his face. Hershel gave a nod of his head and a tip of his glass towards Daryl, and Daryl nodded right back, pleased by that little gesture of encouragement.
Soon they were out next to his truck, and Tahlia looked wildly thrilled by what they'd just done and Daryl laughed because shit, it was damned cute if she thought that was rebellious.
"Whatchu wanna do?" he asked. "Night's yours."
"Ooh, I don't know!" she exclaimed, her eyes a little wide. "I would just say go to Fox's or something, but look at me, I look so fucking…"
"Beautiful." murmured Daryl, at the same time Tahlia said, "Pretentious."
Then she gazed at him curiously. "What?"
"Nothin'." he replied, but 'beautiful', he repeated, managing to keep it in his head this time. He'd always thought that. Then he grinned at her and produced a half bottle of bourbon. "Got this."
"Where the hell did you get that?!"
"Swiped it from the bar while you were gettin' your coat. Jump in the truck. Got an idea."
He drove the fifteen minutes up to the east lookout, the highest spot on the edge of town, the city sprawled, yawning and twinkling down below. Reversing near the edge of the drop-off, he ushered her out of the cab and onto the bed of the truck, laying down an old towel to sit on because his truck wasn't the cleanest.
Side by side, they leaned back and gazed out at the glittering city topped by a sky-full of gleaming stars in the indigo night, and for a long moment they were quiet, content.
"Here." Daryl said, breaking the silence as he handed her the bourbon. "For you."
Tahlia took a swig, wrinkled her nose, then took another. "Thanks for getting me out of there. I would never have had the courage to leave on my own."
"Shouldn't go to no more of them things. Not if it's for him."
She sighed. "I know. I just… I just can't help but…"
And she didn't need to elaborate, because Daryl understood.
There was a time when, no matter the beatings his father had given him, no matter the vitriol he'd unloaded, if Will Dixon had opened his arms and invited him in, Daryl would have happily collapsed right into him and forgiven him for everything; and there was a time that that was all he'd wished for.
Taking another big gulp from the bottle, Tahlia looked up at the sky. "Ok, enough about my shit. Let's test my star-navigation. Right, so there's Big Dipper, and Polaris, and… ooh, is that Andromeda?"
"Damn," smiled Daryl, "Anyone woulda thought you actually been payin' attention to your lessons."
He tested her on a few more, but she started to drink more than talk, a grey melancholy draping over her shoulders.
"Let it go." he advised quietly, nudging her side. "That bit of the night's behind ya now."
She laughed a little. "I know. Not very good at turning off my mind though. Hence the…" she waved the bottle in the air, then offered it to him. "Some for you?"
"Naw. Gotta get you home safe. "Kay, how we gonna get your mind off all that, then?"
Thinking about that, Tahlia dropped her head back against the cab and turned to face him with a slow smile.
"You could tell me the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you."
Daryl snorted. "No way in hell."
"You could… tell me about the last time you cried."
"Ain't never cried before." he lied with a smirk.
"You could sing me a song."
"Pfft. Naw."
Tahlia was still softly gazing at him. "You could… you could kiss me."
At that, Daryl sucked in a sharp breath and his expression turned wretched as he shook his head. "Aw shit, Tahly. Don't say that."
Tahlia wrinkled her nose. "I'm mostly joking." she offered lamely, because she kind of was, but she certainly wouldn't stop him if he tried.
"You're drunk." he said quietly. "And you ain't in a good headspace."
She gave a wistful little laugh and dropped her gaze to her lap. "Can't argue with that."
"Oh Silver." Daryl breathed as he shifted slightly to face her and reached for her hand.
And as she slowly drew her eyes up to his, he raised her arm to his mouth and gently turned it out, then pressed a languid, open-mouthed kiss against her inner wrist, his tongue stealing across her skin just once before he trailed up to her palm, kissing her there too before turning her hand over and branding a lingering press of his lips just below her knuckles.
"There." he murmured, never breaking her gaze. "That help?"
A little whimper escaped Tahlia and she shook her head hopelessly. "Nope. Not really."
Daryl smiled in spite of being all types of conflicted, and moved back to her side, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Just c'mere, would ya?"
He felt her sigh and he pulled her closer, settling her against his side. They were silent for a while, until Daryl said,
"So, how much you reckon that paintin' went for?"
"Hmm," replied Tahlia softly, "Probably more than I earn in a year."
"Bargain, then."
She laughed and he was pleased at that, glad to bring a little lightness back to her.
"How's that bourbon goin'?"
"Think it's probably done enough damage."
"Done nothin' of the sort. You have as much as ya like. I got ya."
Tahlia reached for the bottle because it would be kind of nice to blank out this whole train wreck.
"Goddammit, Daryl."
