Bear with me as my story moves at a glacial pace, but isn't there something a little heady about that time when you're really into someone, but nothing has happened between you yet?

Chapter 31 - Granny panties

It had been a few days since their 'just friends' conversation, and Daryl had considered trying to better explain what he'd meant to Tahlia, but he didn't know how to bring it up, so had decided to just leave it be. Anyway, she hadn't mentioned a single word about any of it which implied that she'd already forgotten about the whole thing.

Initially, he'd been worried that things might be different, strained between them, but ironically, it seemed that slapping a label of 'just friends' on what they were had dissolved what little boundaries they had with one another and they had become closer. Daryl didn't know how that was possible, but he did know that his head had decided to actively stage a rebellion against the label and was now bursting at the seams with thoughts of her, and it would be no easy feat keeping his promise to her in the long run.

Pulling a bolt out of a second rabbit he'd killed that morning, Daryl bagged the animal and was about to move on when Tahlia looked up at him sweetly.

"Shall we go see Loxy and our babies?"

"Naw, ain't nowhere near there today."

Tahlia shrugged. "Ok, just point me in the right direction and I'll go myself."

"Y'ain't goin' nowhere yourself. Only gotta turn you in a circle and you're lost." He frowned down at her. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" she asked innocently.

"Y'know exactly like what!" he said sternly, taking in her wide-eyed green gaze, pouted lips and overall angelic expression which was making a whole bunch of shit fizz and pop and pull inside him and make him feel like her asking him to do things was only a courtesy because she knew full well that he was incapable of refusing her.

Which, after trekking nearly an hour out of the way to go to the foxes' den, proved his suspicion entirely. Even more so when he ended up leaving the two damn rabbits he'd just caught for the sleeping fucking foxes.

"Worst fuckin' huntin' partner in the world." grumbled Daryl as Tahlia chuckled and tucked her arm through his, giving him a little squeeze.

"I'll get us some more rabbits to make up for those ones we gave to the foxes."

Daryl scoffed at that. "How ya gonna do that, huh girl? Flush 'em outta the woods by offerin' free hugs?"

"Shut up!" giggled Tahlia. "I'll just... crossbow them, like you do."

"Yeah?" he raised his eyebrows in challenge. "Think ya can? Alright, let's stop for a bit, then we'll see what ya got."

They wandered into a small clearing and took a seat in the sun at the base of an old oak, and, leaning against the trunk right next to Daryl, Tahlia shut her eyes for a few minutes while he drew on her arm.

"'Kay." he said when he'd finished, one hand still around her bicep, the other pointing at the pictures with the tip of the pen.

She peeked down at what he'd drawn. Two rabbits, two squirrels, and a question mark, all in a vertical line down her upper arm.

"Your tally sheet. When ya kill one of these, I cross it off. Question mark's bonus for somethin' that ain't a rabbit or squirrel. Gotta cross 'em all off to get a ride home."

Tahlia leaned her head back against the tree, turning her face to his, a small smile on her lips. "I'm probably not going to be killing any animals today." she stated softly.

Mirroring her position, he held her gaze as he squeezed her arm affectionately. "I know."

Tahlia broke into a grin, then took the pen from his hand.

"Ok, let me have a turn with this." She tapped the pen on his forearm for a few moments, then moved his arm around a little as if she was trying to find the right angle, then frowned.

"Hmm, I want to... 'scuse me."

Daryl's eyebrows shot up as she scooted over and positioned herself to sit between his legs, her back up against his chest, his left arm pulled under her armpit and held in front of her against her bent knees.

"Just make yourself comfortable, why don't ya?" he muttered drily as she wriggled against him, although he certainly wasn't complaining (despite the fact that it was just adding fuel to the fire he was already fighting for her).

"Thanks, I will!" she laughed. "You good like this?"

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Feel like y'ain't gonna care either way."

"You know me so well." she said lightly as she took the pen to his forearm, the cold tip on his skin almost sensual.

"Whatcha doin?" he asked, leaning over her shoulder, but she grunted and shielded his arm from view by bending her head closer to it.

He grinned and sat back, leaning his head against the tree trunk once more. A burr was caught on the material of her top at her lower ribs, and he let his thumb run over it once, twice, feeling her breath catch, then he gently tugged it free and tossed it to the ground. Without thinking, he then moved his fingers up to her shoulderblade and traced lightly around the bone, then crossed to her spine and bumped slowly all the way down, feeling her body tense and quiver slightly under his touch. It was only as his hand reached her lower back that he caught hold of himself and snatched his hand away as his eyes widened. God, what had come over him?

"Ok, all done." Then she was standing, brushing the dirt from her pants, taking a deep breath, just trying to ground herself again after his absentminded stroking of her back which nearly had her in a puddle on the ground.

Daryl, pulled back to the present, looked up at her, then at his arm, the remnants of her touch still smoldering on his skin. He squinted.

"Huh?" Then started to read aloud. "The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees. The moon was - the fuck is this?!"

He stood up and looked curiously between her and the neat lettering on his arm.

"I can't draw." Tahlia said, by way of explanation.

He stared at her. "So, what is this?"

"Poetry." she grinned.

Like a fish out of water, Daryl gaped for a moment. "Poetry?!" he repeated, his tone dripping with scorn. "Ya put some damn poetry on me? Hell no!"

Tahlia glanced down at the ground, then slowly lifted her gaze back up to his, although her eyes held a misty, unfocused look and really, she was looking right through him.

"Poetry." she echoed reverently, her voice light and dreamy. "My momma was an English professor. Loved everything to do with the written word and tried to tip it onto us all the time, you know, before... before..." Tahlia shook her head, shook those words away, then carried on. "She loved poetry, and she would recite it to us, get so emotional that tears would be streaming down her face as she spoke, and it felt like we were the only people in the universe, caught up in these nets of words she'd weave, and it was just the most incredible thing and moved me like nothing else. This was one of her favourites, I know it by heart. The Highwayman. It's this beautiful love story about passionate, all-encompassing true love and sacrifice. This fanciful, grand notion of what I always dreamed love would feel like..."

She caught herself before tipping over the edge of her reverie and seemed to only just realise that she was still standing in front of Daryl who was looking at her like she was bonkers. "Oh. Right. So, uh... I can't draw, but I thought that maybe I'd just write a verse of the poem on you instead. I have to pee." And with a quick smile, she disappeared into the trees.

"Ain't into love stories! Ain't into poetry, Tahls!" he called to her back. "Not my thing!"

But while he waited for her to return, he finished muttering the verse to himself.

"...the moon was a ghostly galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding- riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door."

By the time she came back, he'd carved a couple of targets onto a tree at the far side of the clearing.

"Poetry." he scoffed at her again when she arrived at his side, and she just laughed.

"Payback for drawing a snake on me that time."

He gave her a lopsided smile of concession, then led her to the middle of the clearing.

About to hand her his crossbow, he paused for a second. "Hey. You still been doin' some gun handlin' with Sasha?"

"Yeah." Tahlia told him. "We've done watch together a few times and I practice with the big guns. And... a couple of the handguns. She showed me how to clean them too. I'm getting better with it all."

"Good." Daryl gave a firm nod. "Happy to help ya too if ya need it." Eyeing her up for a moment, he could see that she still wasn't ready to share what was at the core of her fear that day he showed her the guns, so let it lie for now. He handed her his crossbow. "This one'll be a bit big for ya, but here."

Tahlia took the weapon, surprised at the weight of it. "Damn, this thing is heavier than it looks! No wonder your arms look like that!" she told him with an arch of her brow.

Daryl rolled his eyes and ignored her comment. "Hold it up."

She hoisted it up to her shoulder, but Daryl shook his head.

"More like..."

His voice was low at her ear as he stepped in behind her, slipping his arms around her and sliding his hands slowly up and down her arms as he corrected her position, then he adjusted the weapon against her shoulder. "That's it."

Then, instead of letting her go again, found himself pulling her closer, his body now flush against her back, his hands dropping to her hips, his fingers spanning her waist.

"There's a bit of kickback, so I'ma stand here, absorb."

Tahlia could barely concentrate with Daryl pressed up against her, his gravelly voice sending delicious shivers through her body, the smell of him – earthy, musky, smoky, like the smoldering embers of cedarwood – igniting her core, his grip on her the only thing keeping her from floating away. But somehow she managed to pull the trigger and her shoulder jolted back as the bolt soared past the target on the tree.

"Dammit! How are you so incredibly accurate with this?"

At the sound of her voice, Daryl crashed back to earth, once again only just realising what he was doing, how close he was to her, how tightly he'd been holding onto her, and immediately he dropped his hands and his gaze.

"I been shootin' one of these damn things forever." he muttered.

Then to detract from his flaming cheeks, he recocked and reloaded the bow and handed it back to her, commanding, "Again."

Tahlia glanced over her shoulder to where he was now standing a careful distance from her and gave a little nudge of her head.

"Daryl. Help me."

With a hard swallow and his inability to refuse her, hesitantly he stepped back up to her once more, gently repositioning her arms, his chin resting on her shoulder for a moment as he checked her aim, then he breathed her in and held her close, lost himself once again.

Tahlia let the bolt fly, surprising the hell out of herself when it actually hit the tree because she was fairly certain her eyes had been closed that whole time.

"Not bad." he rasped in her ear, and suddenly released her, making her whimper a little at the loss of contact.

"I have a whole new respect for you." she mumbled, wiggling her shoulders as if she could shake the feel of his body right out of her as she trudged off to retrieve the arrows.

Goddamn, if he had this effect on her when he only thought of her as a friend, imagine what kind of state she'd be in if he were actually trying – no. Don't imagine that. Do not imagine that.

Daryl rubbed a hand over his mouth as he watched her go and expelled a forceful breath, his nerve endings still fizzing from the feel of her against him, the scent of her still lingering around him. What the hell was he doing? And why did it feel like he was powerless to stop himself from touching her like that? He had just promised her that she could trust him, yet here he was unashamedly pawing at her, letting himself get carried away.

Fucksake, he was an asshole.

It just seemed that sometimes lately when he was that close to her everything else just kind of faded away (including the rational part of his brain), and he tumbled right into her.

Crossbow practice was a bad idea. Anything that allowed him to hold her like that was a bad idea. They just needed to stick to the hunting and foraging and a safe amount of space between them, and things would be fine. She was his friend, and he wasn't going to allow himself one more single thought about her as anything beyond that realm.

Starting right now.

By the time she finally arrived back, he had managed to get a hold of himself and push any remotely confusing thoughts out of his head.

"Took ya damn time."

"That first one was hard to find!" she complained. "It went way beyond those trees."

"That's what ya get for havin' crappy aim." he teased as she kicked at his boot. "Think we should head back now."

"No more crossbow practice?" she asked, disappointed.

"Naw." he replied quickly. "Not today. C'mon."

On their way back to the bike, the signature groans of the undead sounded to their left, and four walkers staggered out of the bushes, snarling and gnashing their teeth as they approached.

Immediately, Daryl let a bolt fly and took down the first of the pack. Tahlia already had her knife in hand, so launched herself at the next one, while Daryl took down a third.

"I'll get lonely last over here." remarked Tahlia as she spun around and whacked the blade of her knife into the fourth walker's head.

"Yuck, that one exploded on me!" she cried out as she shoved the slain walker to the ground and looked distastefully down at her blood-soaked tank top, flicking a chunk of brain off her shoulder, while Daryl chuckled at her discomfort.

"Stream's just ahead." he told her, pointing through the trees.

"Thank God. I'm going to clean up." Tahlia overtook Daryl, then, as they neared the stream, she stripped off her top and tossed it to the ground.

Following close behind her, Daryl stopped in his tracks at the sight as his stomach gave a heavy flip.

"Girl!" he exclaimed, frowning and attempting to avert his eyes. "Ya really gotta do that?"

"Yes!" replied Tahlia as she started splashing water on her neck and chest. "That blood stinks! I want it off."

"I'm goin' over there. Come find me when ya put some damn clothes on." Daryl snapped, suddenly feeling irritable.

Annoyed at himself for being so easily consumed by his base desires. Annoyed at her for being so... God, she was so...

Fucksake!

How the hell was he supposed to keep his thoughts clean and on the right side of the friendship line if she was going to strip? Already primed from a morning of having her body right up against him, all his senses soaking her in, he was barely holding on as it was - the last thing he fucking needed was to see her in her underwear.

Tahlia stood up from her crouch by the stream, flicking drops of water around her as she spun to face him, her red lacy bra doing little to conceal the dark shadow of pert nipples below.

"Are you serious?!" she challenged, propping her hands on her hips. "You're really gonna freak out because I took my top off?!"

"Ya paradin' about half naked!" he growled. "Don't wanna see that shit!"

A loud laugh bubbled from Tahlia's throat. "You are such a weirdo sometimes, Dixon! After all the time we've spent together – we've slept on each other, patched each other up - you pulled a thorn out of my ass!"

"Weren't your ass!" declared Daryl indignantly. "Was your thigh!"

Tahlia ignored him and carried on. "We pee in front of each other!"

"Do not! Never seen ya do that!"

"Well, I've seen you - you barely even bother to turn around anymore before taking a piss. You've carried me, mopped up my tears, you come sniffing for a cuddle every day-"

"Do not! And don't say cuddle!" he objected, disdainfully.

Suppressing a giggle at his protests, Tahlia raised her brows. "And now you're all weirded out by me in a bra?! Even though you've seen it all before?"

Daryl wanted to glare at her, but that would mean staring and he definitely didn't want to do that. So he settled for scowling at the ground at her feet instead. How was he supposed to respond? What she had said was true, they did do all of those things, and he had seen her change her clothes plenty of times. But this seemed different (or maybe it was just because his brain had gone into overdrive with thoughts of her).

He had never seen her like this, so... on display.

Her hair was wet at the ends from the stream and droplets of water were sliding a tantalising trail over the swell of her breasts, down her glistening skin from shoulder to hip, disappearing into the waistband of her low-slung chinos, a promise of the allure within, sending his pulse racing and palms itching.

Eventually he looked up at her, his annoyance that she'd put him in this position overtaking his awkwardness.

"Why ya always gotta wear that stuff?!" he demanded, before he could stop himself.

He'd seen enough flashes of her underwear to know that she really did always wear that nice stuff – the top of her panties when she'd crouch down in the woods, the slip of a tank off her shoulder revealing a glimpse of her bra. Usually he tried not to look, but there was no avoiding it today.

"What stuff? Underwear?" She sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yeah... naw! I mean, that type?!" He waved a hand vaguely in the air. "All that... lacy... shit? Why y'ain't never just got sweaty old sportsbras or big granny panties on?"

Tahlia couldn't help but burst into laughter at his indignant tone and absurd question. Never in a million years would she have thought she'd hear the words 'granny panties' come out of Daryl's mouth.

"You have a problem with sexy lingerie?" she giggled, accentuating the last two words, only making Daryl fume even more.

"Well, it ain't helpin'! Why can't ya just wear ratty old stuff like everyone else?"

Still laughing, Tahlia wiped her eyes, trying to work out if Daryl was actually serious or not. It seemed ridiculous that he would take offence to this, but by the hard look in his eyes and the clench of his fists she could see that he really was mad at her.

"Ok, ok. So, my underwear is all satin and lace. Is it really a big deal? I raided a lingerie store a while back, and found that having nice undies on made me feel good. Like I had some normalcy and control of my life, no matter how crazy things got or how gross I felt. Like I might not have washed for days and I'm all filthy, but I feel like I've still got my shit together when I'm wearing my lacies!" She laughed again, still in disbelief that she was having to justify her choice of underwear to Daryl bloody Dixon of all people. "Sorry that you're all weird and uncomfortable with it. I wear it for me. Not for anyone else."

A hot flush spread all the way up to Daryl's hairline, and he toed the ground awkwardly. His anger had receded and now he was realising the stupidity of the conversation too.

"Ain't weird 'bout it." he grumbled. "And course y'ain't wearin' it for no one but yourself. Just... just takes me by surprise... y'know, that out here with everythin' like it is, there's you... lookin' like... lookin' like that!"

"Like what?" Tahlia asked curiously for the second time that day, lips twitching, pulling her shoulders back a little more, jutting her hip out a little more, shaking the water from her hair a little more, all to torture Daryl a little more.

Daryl felt like his face was on fire now and hoped she didn't actually expect him to answer that. But she was still staring at him, patiently waiting, looking a hell of a sight sexier than the pin up girls that he used to tack on his wall as a teenager.

"Y'know like fuckin' what!" he barked in annoyance. But she just raised her brows, and shrugged a little, feigning ignorance.

Daryl huffed in exasperation. "Ya goddamn beautiful, girl! And ya know it! And that shit-" he indicated her bra, "-just makes y'all the more so!" he snapped accusingly, before cursing under his breath and stalking off.

Tahlia shook her head incredulously. Only Daryl could make the word beautiful sound like a huge insult. She finished washing up in the stream, then pulled on a clean tank top from her pack and hurried off to find him before he could gripe at her for taking too long.

He was waiting for her just beyond the tree line, a freshly killed squirrel in hand. He shot her a guarded look as he strung the animal onto his hunting line, then moved on through the woods as Tahlia jogged to catch up and fell into step beside him.

"Ok. I promise I will keep my underwear covered up from now on since it makes you so uncomfortable." she said with exaggerated solemnity, and he just gave an irritated sigh.

Tahlia carried on. "I seem to remember you saying that you can't just go round commenting on people's looks." She paused and made a show of inspecting her fingernails, before swiveling a teasing gaze up to him. "So... you think I'm beautiful?" she goaded in a singsong voice, elbowing him.

Daryl shoved her back with his forearm, hard enough to make her stumble into the undergrowth. "What I think is that you are hands down the biggest pain in the ass I have ever met in my whole damn life!" he retorted grumpily.

Tahlia chuckled at his mood and followed on behind him.

After they had walked in silence for a few more minutes, he snapped a twig from a branch as he passed, then squinted back at her, flicking the twig at her head.

"But, yeah." he said quietly, wrinkling his nose. "To your question. Yeah, I do."

And he was pleased to see – before she ducked her head bashfully - that, for the first time, he'd made her blush a satisfyingly deep shade of crimson.

The poem that Tahlia refers to is The Highwayman, by Alfred Noyes.

The bit about Tahlia's mum was inspired by my own who was exactly like that with poetry, and that's how I learned that particular poem too.