Thank you for the reviews and follows! I love seeing the notifications from FF light up my phone . I again apologize for the long absences. We recently relocated to Tulsa, so our lives have been consumed by job hunting and unpacking.
I am choosing to skip over the sexy "Daryl with a rocket launcher" scenes, primarily because I don't think I would write them any differently with Star there. Also because I am mentally exhausted and the thought of writing another action chapter, when we have so many to come.
As always, even after all the hell our country is going through…onwards and upwards!
Star was still staring at Daryl when his head hit the pillow later that night. His hair damp from the warm shower (uninterrupted this time), his eyes slid closed and he let out a deep sigh. Noticing she wasn't moving next to him, he cracked an eyelid and peered up at her from the corner of his eye.
"Wha?" he asked, mildly irritated. Her gold eyes were bright and bewildered in the moon-lit room. An amused and awed smile played at her lips.
"You…" she barely choked back a giggle. "You blew up a pond of walkers. Like, with fire."
He squinted harder at her, trying to figure out if she was mocking him.
"So?" he grumbled, closing his eyes and turning onto his side.
She laughed quietly again and laid down next to him. "So it was awesome," she whispered back. A small smile twitched the corners of his mouth as he slipped into a deeply deserved sleep.
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The sun had gone past streaming through the windows and was beating down on the room before Daryl stirred. He glanced groggily around the room and was both pleased and nervous to see a conked-out Star, slack-jawed and head tilted back, sprawled next to him.
Don' chicken out, ya coward. He mentally scolded himself. Ya ditched her in the mornin' too many times already. Man up!
He tentatively poked her arm. She didn't move except for a strand of hair fluttering under her nose every time she inhaled.
He poked her more assertively, now mildly panicked that he had picked this as his course of action and simultaneously afraid to change tactics to something even more awkward. She still didn't move.
"Star," he said quietly. Still nothing.
"Star!", paired with a poke to the ribs. This time she grunted, and a sleepy eye peered out from the nest of hair on her face. She looked at his blurry shape for a second, and a bemused, sleepy smile spread across her face.
"Best only be waking me up if there's another fire pond across the street," she grumbled.
"Sorry t' disappoint," Daryl responded. "At least for now."
She laughed quietly and rocked into a seated position, stretching her long limbs and yawning. "Good morning," she greeted, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
He blushed slightly but didn't pull away or flinch. "Mornin'."
She grimaced slightly and reached into one of the many pockets on her dirty and torn pants. She was still dressed in her outfit from the previous day, having been too exhausted last night to change or clean up. A throwing knife was produced from the fabric, and she set it on the window sill near the mattress. She looked back at her side of the mattress, the sheets now streaked with dirt and dried blood.
"Gross," she commented. "Sorry about that. I'll get the sheets into the wash today."
Daryl just shrugged. "Don't mind," he responded.
"Yeah, well I do," she said back. "I'm sure the days will come when we have to sleep in blood and dirt again. Until then, I'm going to use those washing machines in the garage to their full potential." She looked around at the clothing scattered around the room. "Mind if I grab your clothes and throw them in, too?"
Daryl stared at her. She raised her eyebrows at him in question.
"Is that a….no?" she guessed.
He looked down at the floor. "I'll do 'em," he responded.
"It's no big deal, Daryl. I'm already doing mine."
He opened his mouth to protest again, but she saw through it and cut right to the heart of the matter.
"You're worth the extra thirty seconds it will take me to add your clothes, Daryl. You're worth more than that, and I'd be glad to do it."
He looked up at her, speechless. Her eyes had those hard, mischievous glints again, challenging him to call her a liar.
"You can do the next load with my clothes," she compromised, making the gesture easier to swallow for him. His gratitude shown in his eyes.
"Deal," he agreed, and then, startling them both, he reached his hand to the back of her head and brought her lips to his in a strong kiss. She jumped slightly but closed her eyes and deepened the kiss, relishing in the rare show of emotion from the man. She brought her hand up to the back of his head, mirroring his pose, but felt him wince under the pressure of her fingertips.
"Sorry," she apologized, pulling away. He almost growled at her withdrawal but ran a bruised hand across the back of his skull, hissing in pain.
"Fucker got me good," he grumbled. He looked up at her, remembering that she had received the same 2x4 treatment from their captors. A protective surge coursed through him, and he dug his nails into the mattress below them as he scanned her body for last night's final score. Her stitched leg wound was exposed, three of the stitches torn from her skin. Her wrists held identical marks to the rope burn on his. Her right knee was blue, purple and black, angry and jagged scratches across the bruise from sliding on the road. Finally, her small, angular face was severely swollen across her left cheek and jawbone, the blue and purple tints already showing the outline of the butt of the pistol.
Daryl reached out to cradle her face, her gold eyes locked onto his, seeking comfort. But he pulled his hand back, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid as to ask Dwight the three questions. How could ya'? Look at what he did t' Star? Fucking pushover…
"Angel," Star called softly, reaching across the space between them to grasp his fingers in hers. "Stay here please."
He peeled his eyes open. " Can't believe I was gonna let that son'a'bitch in here," he muttered, his eyes snapping to her battered face.
She recognized the guilt hidden behind anger in his words, but she also felt the throbbing in her jawline. She chewed on her lip, and then recalled something Carol had told her.
"When you met Rick, he had left your brother cuffed to a rooftop surrounded by walkers," Star reminded him. "People do uncharacteristic things in desperate times."
"That's different," Daryl immediately fired back.
"How so?" Star challenged.
"Cuz!" Daryl shot angrily.
Star wasn't fazed by his temper. "How so?" she repeated.
"Cuz it's you!" he snapped, jumping to his feet and stomping out of the room and clambering down the stairs.
The front door slammed shut behind him, sounded throughout the empty house. Star let her head fall back onto the wall behind the bed with a "thud".
"One day," she promised herself. "One day we are going to leave this room calmly, like functional adults."
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Star took a long, hot shower, taking her time cleaning out her cuts and bruises. She re-stitched her leg, hissing in pain but keeping her cries to herself as she laced the dental floss back through her tender skin. She stared at her broken reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing her own profile. Ok, I see what he was upset about. This looks pretty gnarly.
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Daryl hit the sidewalk at a furious pace, stomping his way down the pavement and internally slamming his own actions.
Nice, run away again. Big fuckin' surprise there! No better than Meryl, leavin' when shit gets rough. Goddamn pussy!
He reached the walls at the eastern end of the community, and stopped at the towering barrier. With the absence of his footsteps, he became increasingly aware of the quiet morning surrounding him. No neighborhood chatter, no cars…and no footsteps following him. No Star chasing him down to force him to face his actions.
He leaned forward until his forehead contacted the cold steel barrier. She had to stop chasin' yer dumb ass sometime. Ya finally push her away.
He reached out to the wall and flexed his fingers against the frigid, smooth surface, the sound of his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. The echoing silence, the acute knowledge of being on his own. This felt familiar; this felt like life before the walkers, before Rick, before a family, before Star… Solid. Cold, Empty. Practical. Alone. Constantly. And back there…back there was chaos. Chatter. Changing. Family. Emotions. Conflicts.
Here made sense. Here was safe. And there was terrifying. There was a life.
He peeled his forehead from the metal, and pushed off from the wall on his fingertips. He stared, almost terrified, at the barrier, and began breathing rapidly. He clenched his fists, swallowed, and took a shuddering, deep breath. Turning on his heel, he briskly walked, and then jogged, back towards the house.
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Star had just begun to cut into an orange when the front door burst open. She dropped the orange and immediately held the knife toward the noise, crouching low behind the island and ready to attack.
Daryl rounded the corner into the kitchen, not slowing his stride as he said, "'ts me,".
Star shook her head at him and lowered the knife slightly. "Sorry, you start…." Her excuse was cut short as he lips captured hers in a rushed, forceful kiss, his fingers immediately capturing her wrist and guiding her to drop the knife to the floor. She gladly obliged wrapped her free arms around his waist, but pulled away from his insistent embrace.
"You came back on your own," she gasped, both out of breath and surprised.
"Done runnin'," he responded, the last word mumbled across her lips.
Whatttt I'm so glad the AC is on in this coffee shop.
Next chapter is y'all's reward for being so patient with me. You know what that means.