Between the Thorns
Chapter 21
Daryl stayed in bed, lying back on his pillow with one arm tucked under his head as he watched Jean move around the small space. She took a long shower, steam billowed out behind her once she finally emerged from the small bathroom, swathed in a towel. She sat at the table, nibbling at the remaining cupcake and sipping at a flat glass of champagne left over from the night before. When she had her fill of that, she set about transferring the leftover food onto one covered plate and picking up their hastily discarded clothes from wherever they tossed them the night before. Daryl felt like he ought to get out of bed and help her pick up. But he was comfortable. And he liked watching her. It was a different sort of intimacy than the physical kind they shared the night before. One that was a new experience for him. Jean's dark hair was damp from her shower. And her skin looked fresh and almost pink from being soaked under the hot water for so long. Her body posture was completely different from when Daryl first arrived in her apartment. The tense set of her shoulders was gone. And she turned her back to him now without concern of what he might do when she took her eyes off him.
The information Daryl received from Jean about her eldest daughter was still rolling around in his mind. Daryl wasn't sure yet what to do about it. He got a funny warm feeling inside when he thought about the girl. Rose. Merle's daughter. His niece. His blood. His brother was an asshole. But Merle was the only family Daryl ever really had. And he felt like he suddenly got a little piece of the man back. He found himself eager to see the girl again. And confirm with his own eyes that all the things he thought coincidental, the color of her eyes and her familiar facial expressions, were in fact not a coincidence at all but inherited directly from the man that fathered her.
"Do ya think maybe I can tell her?," Daryl asked. Jean turned, giving him a questioning glance. "Rose," Daryl clarified. "...Do ya think I kin tell her I'm her uncle?" Jean furrowed her brows, her pretty face immediately growing dark with concern. "Not today," Daryl said, quickly backtracking even though he was really hoping to claim the girl as his blood the moment he laid eyes on her again. "But eventually…," he added. Jean's face relaxed.
"She's been through a lot," Jean finally said. "I don't think it's a good idea to spring more on her right now." She was relieved when Daryl nodded. Jean was glad her excuse about Rose's ordeal worked. Because to bring up the truth would be to start a conversation that she wasn't sure she wanted to have. At least not now. She didn't want Daryl to tell Rose about him being her uncle because she didn't want her girls getting any more attached to him than they already were. It would just make it worse for them when he left and went back to his people. And that's what Jean kept telling herself was going to happen. She figured the heartbreak of him leaving would ease a little if she was prepared for it. Jean didn't let herself consider the other possibility. That Daryl might stay. That he felt something real for her.
"But I kin tell her …eventually?," Daryl clarified. Jean nodded. Eventually worked for her. Eventually sounded far enough away not to be a concern for today.
Jean pulled her towel off, scrunching at her damp hair with it before she tossed it over the back of a chair. There wasn't much to get dressed in. Neither of them brought a change of clothes. So she picked up the button down shirt Daryl wore for their wedding and threaded her arms through the sleeves. Daryl watched Jean as she did up the buttons. Her nipples pebbled up when she pulled her towel off. The way they were poking at the white fabric of his shirt finally motivated him up and off the bed. He wrapped his arms around Jean's waist and kissed her, his hands gripping her firm backside before he slid them up and under her shirt.
A loud knock on the door interrupted their kiss. The door was quickly swung open, without waiting on them to give whoever was barging in permission to enter.
"You fuckers ready to go home?," the man asked with a laugh, "...or should I tell them to turn the camera back on?"
"We're ready to go," Daryl huffed, hurrying to yank his pants on and shove his still semi hard dick inside them. Since he was shirtless, Daryl was glad they didn't encounter many other people on their way back to Jean's apartment. The moment they stepped inside the door, the girls launched themselves at Jean, jumping and climbing all over her. She hugged them tight. Daryl cringed back a little when he realized that once they were done with their mother, Rose and Lily quickly set their sites on him. Daryl hugged the girls against him, not feeling as awkward as he expected until Lily felt the raised marks on his back and darted around behind him to get a better look.
"What happened?," she asked, poking at his marred flesh. "Did the bad men here do that to you? Did a cat do it? Did you fight a bear? Were you in a fire? Did you crash a motorcycle?"
"LILY!," Jean said, scolding the girl, "...that's none of your business." Unlike her daughter, it was quite obvious to Jean where the marks came from. She was never beaten in the abusive way that Daryl clearly had been. But her gran was old school. And if you misbehaved at her house, you got a whopping. And depending on the severity of the crime, that may or may not have involved the use of a switch. The marks her gran left always faded quickly. But if she was using too much force, the switch could have easily left scars like the ones on Daryl's back.
"Oh," Lily said, quickly apologizing. Daryl ruffled the girl's hair up and assured her that it was alright. She wrapped her arms around him again.
Since Jean's daughters let go of her, Sherry squeezed in for a hug. She whispered in Jean's ear, asking her how it was. It clearly meaning sex with the man her daughters were acousting. Jean giggled and whispered back that she would tell her about it later. But it was clear from her smile that she enjoyed her alone time with the man. Sherry giggled back, tossing Daryl a playful glance over her shoulder.
Sherry stayed for breakfast. She and Jean whispered together in the little kitchenette area while Jean used a hot plate to fry up the leftover steak from their dinner with some canned potatoes. After retrieving a shirt from the bedroom, Daryl sat on the couch with the girls and let them show him the comic book they were currently engrossed in. After the last few days they had, Jean was grateful that this one passed without any further incidents. Sherry left after breakfast. Jean took the girls down to her little salon to wash and trim their hair. With a little help from Daryl, Jean was even able to coax Rose into going down to the cafeteria for dinner. They got a few curious stares. And a few men stopped by their table to give Daryl a nod of respect or a pat on the back. Jean wasn't sure if the newfound respect was due to his elevation in status or because he personally stomped her daughter's would-be rapist to death. Or maybe both.
Like he had before, Daryl lingered in the bedroom doorway while she put the girls to bed. When she rose from beside Lily's bed and headed for the door, Daryl shuffled in, giving each of the girls a hug goodnight. Jean clicked off the light and took Daryl by the hand, leading him towards her room.
"If you still want a back massage," she whispered, "...I brought some lotion back from work." Daryl nodded, clicking the bedroom door shut softly behind them. He didn't know what to do next and was grateful when Jean offered him some basic instruction, telling him to take off his shirt and lay face down on the bed. He heard the plastic click of the lid to the lotion. And then the sound of her rubbing her hand together. He felt the soft press of her body next. She straddled him, sitting on his thighs. Her hands were warm and soft as she rubbed them over the roadmap of scars that covered his back. It was Daryl's first time receiving any sort of actual massage and he was pleasantly surprised at how good it felt. She kneaded her slim fingers into all the spots where his muscles were sore or tight, gently relaxing them until all the tension was released. He wasn't sure how long Jean spent massaging his back. Only that at some point he became so relaxed that he was hugging the line between being conscious and falling deeply asleep. Daryl would later hope that Jean wasn't massaging him as a form of foreplay because by the time she got done it was all he could do to stay awake long enough to climb under the covers and pull her slim body close to his. His last waking thought was that maybe being a savior lieutenant wasn't so bad after all.