Good lord, I'm so, so sorry this took forever to write. With school starting back up I was absolutely swamped. I hope there are still those of you out there who want to read this. I'm going to be pretty snappy, so y'all can get going with your reading pleasure. Anyway, this chapter would be a piece of dirty garbage without the help of my lovely beta, and dear friend, Jay. Anyway, if you love Rickyl (which, I don't know why you'd be reading this if you don't) go check out her works: Switch and Under the Law, you won't be disappointed.

Happy reading! I hope y'all don't hate me too much for making you wait.

Chapter Three

Dusk and Dawn

Daryl smoked another cigarette as he made his way back towards the dorms, calming the rising turmoil churning in his gut. He dropped the spent butt to the ground, crushing it underneath his boot without breaking stride as he entered the building and headed towards the elevator. At the last moment, he turned towards the door, behind which were the stairs leading up. He began to climb, slowly, his tread echoing in the dimly lit corridor. Besides the reverberating sound of his feet hitting the metal stairs and his short, shallow breaths, there was no sound as he ascended.

His thoughts were coming so quickly, he felt as if he was watching them pass on a freeway, observing from the sidelines, detached as he attempted to keep from talking himself out of the conversation he was about to have. Daryl was not a long-winded individual by any means; long days of silence as a child for fear of his father's wrath kept him decidedly quiet, to the point where second meetings we hardly ever requested.

Growing up, he had come to take solace in the isolation under which he functioned, protected by his seeming social awkwardness. It had kept prying eyes away from him, the standoffish abrasiveness of his tone finishing the job for those too nosy to heed the warning signs of his silence. Teachers learned to look the other way, students learned to leave him alone on the playground. Even his own brother, with all his humor and blasé reactions, learned to tread lightly when Daryl was cornered.

He was beginning to discover though, that going through the world alone was a decidedly unpleasant way of life. Although he had no idea how to go about it, making friends seemed like a practical idea. He'd grown up with the hypothetical philosophy of 'I'll watch your back, if you'll watch mine.' It'd never exactly been put into practice, what with his brother dipping out on him when he was still just a child and practically everyone else dying on him. Yet, it seemed like a pretty smart way to navigate the world. And apologizing for being an asshole would probably be a good start to a friendship, and what better person to be friends with than the seemingly kind person you're forced to spend time in a twelve-by-twelve room with for nine months.

Daryl found himself standing in front of his door, blinking in surprise, so deep in thought he hadn't even realized how far he'd come. He stood with his key poised in his hand, ready to turn the handle, but voices drifted from the space beneath the door. He checked the corridor to make sure there was no one around before he pressed his ear carefully against the wood, attempting to hear the conversation going on inside. His keen senses picked up the deep, familiar inflection of his roommate's calm, questioning tone and the indignant, raised voice of Glenn.

They were obviously mid-conversation, he could tell by the cadence of sounds slipping under the door, but their voices cut off abruptly. He'd been caught, and he knew it. His heart dropped into his stomach, and he could feel moisture begin to sprout on his palms. With a deep sigh through his nose he turned his key in the door and opened it, stepping into the room, eyes downcast. He looked up, his thumb immediately going to his mouth as he chewed on his cuticle, buying time.

Rick had gotten up from where he was sitting at his desk chair and stepped into the center of the room, arms crossed in front of his chest. Glenn stood as well, though he stayed sheepishly behind Rick. Before Daryl could formulate an apology, or an excuse, or anything, really, Rick spoke.

"Look, I don't know who you think you are, but you can't just—attack—people in alleyways." His voice was hard as flint, cutting through the tension in the air like a knife. His eyes were cold and distant, so unlike the friendly pools of crisp mountain water that they usually were.

"I—" Daryl began but closed his mouth, unable to formulate the words.

"I get that you were upset. That's understandable. That might be how you have dealt with problems in the past, but you're a fucking adult, act like one. You can't just pick a fight with anyone you have an issue with. "

Daryl flinched and lowered his eyes. The insinuation that he'd ever actually hurt anyone innocent before—that he was just some rough and tumble guy who got into fights without thinking, that he was prone to violence—seared inside his soul. He had spent his entire life fighting with every fiber of his being to not be that bitter, angry person. He'd ripped apart his insides to keep from engaging with his peers, torn himself to pieces to refrain from becoming his father, from allowing the people closest to him go up in flames.

He reached behind him, slowly, his eyes flicked to Glenn's before looking at the ground. The Korean's eyes were wide and wary. Rick moved when he saw Daryl shift, rolling his shoulders backwards and taking a half step towards Daryl, blocking his way. His proximity made Daryl wince, as his hand wrapped around Glenn's hat and he pulled it from his back pocket, holding it out in front of him, eyes on the worn, gnarled, hardwood floor.

He watched Glenn's feet, saw them shift slightly, and he knew that the black-haired young man was looking to Rick. He heard the rustle of clothes, probably Rick shrugging, and then Glenn stepping towards him.

"Uh, thanks." Glenn was careful not to touch him as he took the article of clothing back, slapping it against his thigh before placing it on his head.

Daryl peeled his eyes off the floor with an immense amount of effort. "Welcome," he managed to bite out. He cleared his throat and looked Glenn in the eye. "I—er, sorry 'bout what happened back there. Hope I didn' hurt ya or nothin'. I'm—I'm not like that." He shrugged his shoulders, as if to shake the animosity away.

"I'm sure you're not." Glenn smiled, bright and sunny and wholly out of place in the gloom of Daryl's storm cloud of self-loathing. Daryl's eyes flicked over his shoulder to Rick, who was watching the watching the exchange with a guarded expression, countenance turned to stone. There was a pregnant pause while Daryl and Rick stared at each other; Glenn's dark, gleaming eyes flipped back and forth between the two silent roommates.

"Well, I'm gonna go," Glenn said after a moment, though neither of the men replied. He walked towards the bathroom that adjoined to his own room. Opening the door, he turned to look back over his shoulder. "Hey, Daryl?"

Daryl blinked and looked away, a shiver running up his spine and heartbeat quickening, like he had been caught in a private moment, forgetting Glenn was there. He hummed in question at the man hovering in the doorway.

"There's a corridor party this Saturday, and, as your friendly RA, I figured I should let you know. It's a backyard mixer, you know…without the backyards. Anyway, you're both invited. There's gonna be pizza." Without waiting for a response, Glenn slipped his rail-thin body through the door and vanished, closing it behind him with a soft click.

Daryl heard the springs on Rick's bed creak as the man sunk onto it, leaning his elbows on his knees and running a hand over his face. Daryl turned to look at him, and found the strong, unmovable man who had been willing to take on someone twice his size, collapsed upon himself, looking utterly world-weary. Daryl went and sat down across from Rick on his own bed, the space between them so close that their knees were only a few inches apart. Daryl's skin crawled from the closeness, but he didn't allow himself to move away. He watched uneasily as Rick curled and uncurled his hands against his thighs, deep in thought. Daryl had realized Rick was a tactile person in the first few weeks of knowing him. He had balked at the idea at first, watching as Rick laid a casual hand on Shane's shoulder or pushed Glenn sideways when they were sitting next to each other on the bed. Knots of anxiety had curled in his stomach like snakes at the idea of his nonchalant physical affection. Though, it hadn't taken him long to notice several times Rick had reached towards him, only to curl his outstretched hand and drop it to his side. Daryl had grown to believe he would never be at ease enough to act on that kind of comfortable intimacy. Yet, as the weeks stretched on, he had begun to warm up to the idea. And, as he watched those long fingers splay out across the denim of Rick's pants, he found that he didn't exactly mind the image he had of them reaching out to brush against his threadbare jeans.

Rick looked up, surprise showing on his face at the proximity. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it, red lips pursing slightly in thought. He dropped his head back down to stare at his knees, at a loss for words.

"I ain't never hit any one who didn't deserve it," Daryl stated. He blinked, slightly shocked that the words had escaped his lips so easily. There was nothing he needed to prove to Rick; yet, his words were filled with desperation, blunt and tactless.

Rick shifted his eyes so that Daryl could see their brilliant blue watching him steadily. Rick's hands were pressed against his mouth, but Daryl could still hear the words that slipped through: "I shouldn't'a suggested that. I'm sorry."

"Fuck, man. It ain't your fault. I guess I done deserved it." He snorted humorlessly.

Rick carded a hand through his thick curls as he lifted his head fully to look Daryl in the eye. Some of the strands fell onto his forehead, giving him a distinctly unkempt look. For a moment, Daryl had the sudden impulse to lean forward and push those curls back into place.

"No. You didn't deserve that. I assumed—it wasn't right of me. Although, assaulting people in an alley isn't really a great way to solve problems." Rick raised an eyebrow as he spoke, his face breaking from its cold facade into the easiness that Daryl had come to know.

"I know that," Daryl snapped defensively, leaning back and crossing his arms, subconsciously flexing his impressive biceps.

Rick's eyes flicked down to the movement before looking back up, his eyes softer than they had been before. "Not a very good way to make friends, either." The side of his lip curled up slightly, blue eyes twinkling.

Daryl shook his head. "Who the hell said I wanted to make friends?"

"No one," Rick relented without argument.

There was a pause, and Daryl really didn't like that look in Rick's eye.

"But, I wouldn't be opposed, if you weren't." It was the vulnerable way that Rick said it, all the joking gone from his countenance. He held Daryl's gaze, soft and sure and steady.

Daryl felt something shift inside him, a strange feeling he didn't know if he was particularly comfortable with. It spread throughout his body, a warmth that lit him from the inside like a sun. The idea hit him hard—friends, with Rick Grimes, the man who surrounded himself with people not because he gave his friendship easily, but because he genuinely enjoyed their company. The concept was foreign and frightening to him. He could feel the weight of the statement on him as if he were Atlas, holding the world up. Rick looked at him, naked and trusting and willing to jump into this void of friendship together. Something in Daryl told him that if he said yes, there would be no turning back. No ledge to cling to if it all went wrong.

He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, catching it on his teeth and biting hard. Without looking away from Rick's steel gaze he nodded his head, just a fraction of an inch. Rick smiled; it was small, not overly enthusiastic or friendly. One that implied he was deep in thought, solemn and distant.

Saturday found Daryl feeling like his skin did not fit him properly, a sensation that had started since his conversation with Rick a few days ago. Nothing had really changed between Rick and him—not that he was expecting any friendship bracelets of gossiping sessions. He would've called the whole thing off right then and there, sworn off friends forever, if that had been the case. They had eaten lunch in the cafeteria once or twice, compared schedules and walked to classes they had in the same building. Once, Rick had called and asked if Daryl could come get him from Michonne's.

He had been hesitant to say yes, wondering what it was Rick really wanted, or if he was expected to request something in return. When Rick got in the car, quiet and comfortable, like this wasn't unusual and unnatural for Daryl, his fears were put to rest.

Yes, Daryl hadn't really slipped easily into the role of a friend, but, if there was anyone to choose as your first companion, Rick was it. He wasn't clingy—quite the opposite, actually. Daryl found himself missing Rick's company when he was in class or gallivanting off with his other friends; a possessive streak that Daryl hadn't been aware of flared whenever he saw Rick with Lori or Shane or even Michonne, though hatred for such a refreshingly sarcastic, gorgeous woman didn't come easily.

Daryl would even tentatively say that he was becoming friends with Glenn as well, despite their somewhat rocky start. Currently, the two of them could be found arguing in the doorway of Rick and Daryl's room. Daryl had a hand firmly on the handle, his other on Glenn's chest, blocking him from entering.

"I told you to git, we ain't leavin' the door open," Daryl bit out between clenched teeth.

"Come on, Daryl! Everyone else has their door open for the party, what kind of vibe does that give off?" Glenn whined, pouting about his stupid pizza social that he'd been chattering about, sitting cross-legged on Daryl's bed, all week.

"It gives off the 'I don't want anyone stealin' my shit' vibe." Daryl heard Rick snort in amusement from where he was watching the exchange behind him.

"C'mon, Rick," Glenn pleaded with his friend, looking past Daryl's shoulders, stepping back and dropping his shoulders with a sigh.

Daryl dropped his hand, watching the man who was doing a very good job impersonating a kicked puppy. Daryl shook his head with a smirk; that was not how a grown man should ever look.

"What if I offered you free beer?" Glenn perked up after a few moments of quiet brooding.

"I thought all the beer was free," Rick pointed out helpfully.

Glenn shot him a look and opened his mouth, another argument on the tip of his tongue.

"All righ', I'll keep the fuckin' door open, but if any of my shit's gone, you get an arrow in the ass," Daryl threatened.

"Sweet!" Glenn exclaimed, running off to down the hall to join a few people who had already begun to mingle.

"Daryl," Rick warned from behind him.

Daryl turned to lean against the door frame, one leg propped up casually. Rick was standing close, the proximity making Daryl's skin itch inexplicably. "I was just joking." Daryl shrugged casually, clearing his throat and looking away for a moment. Rick was silent, but Daryl could feel his eyes on him, he finally turned back to his friend.

"All right." Rick looked him up and down, as if he didn't trust him completely, though the action was mainly teasing.

A thrill ran through Daryl's body at those inquisitive, kind eyes searching him closely for signs of deceit.

"You comin'?" Rick asked as he stepped around Daryl, close enough that he could smell the spice of his aftershave clinging to his skin.

Daryl nodded and hummed, following Rick, eyes on the heels of his cowboy boots as they made their way into the crowd.

Rick scanned the group of people mingling in the hall, keenly aware of Daryl pressed behind him, as close as he could get without actually touching. Daryl thought he was good at hiding it, but Rick had seen the few moments in their time together when Daryl's hand would twitch with the urge to reach out towards Rick. Every time, Rick fought the confusing flame of affection that curled inside his stomach.

He spotted Michonne leaning casually against the vending machine, munching on a piece of pizza and scrutinizing the crowd with a sharp eye. When she spotted the pair approaching, her lips pulled back in a smile. She swallowed as they stopped in front of her, Daryl slightly behind Rick.

"Gentlemen," Michonne greeted with that amused lit to her voice that Rick had come to love in their years of friendship. Though, it had confused him greatly at first, unsure how to take any of her comments.

"What are you doing here?" Rick questioned with a grin.

"You forget ya' don't live here again?" Daryl chimed in, a smirk playing on his lips.

Pride swelled in Rick's chest, utterly absurd, but Daryl's openness with Michonne and Glenn had enthused Rick greatly over the past few days. He had been surprisingly receptive to most of Rick's friends, cordial, at first, but growing more bold by the day with teasing and banter.

"Nope, I'm just here for the free pizza. Obviously." Michonne took another bite to emphasize her point, Rick shook his head in amusement.

"Hey, baby!" could be heard shouted loudly from the throng of people, which parted to reveal Lori walking towards them, her hair done up in an intricate braid, Shane following behind her.

Daryl sidestepped out of the way as Lori wiggled under Rick's arm, wrapping herself around his waist and tilting her head back for a kiss. Rick gently placed his lips on hers before looking back up to say something else to Michonne, though he found her spot against the wall gone. He looked around questioningly.

Daryl caught his eye and nodded towards the crowd, a slight amused glint in his eye. Rick followed his gaze and found Michonne chatting up a curvy blonde on the other side of the corridor.

"How have you been? I haven't seen you since last night!" Lori harrumphed.

"God forbid," Rick heard Daryl mutter under his breath from where he had moved to occupy Michonne's empty place against the wall.

"The fuck was that, Dixon?" Shane snapped, stepping towards Daryl, puffing his chest out in some archaic display of masculinity.

Daryl didn't flinch, unsurprised by the move. Rick grabbed Shane's arm and tugged him back, forcefully. Daryl blinked in surprise, his expression mirrored on Shane's face.

"Defending Dixons now, Rick?" Shane growled, uneasy. His beady black eyes were watching Daryl distrustfully.

"Defending my friend, actually," Rick responded nonchalantly. He turned to Daryl, noting the slightly panicked, trapped look starting to cloud the other man's features. "Hey, let's go find Glenn; I've gotta ask him something." He looked down at Lori, who had been silent during the whole exchange, content to drape herself across her boyfriend and let the boys go at it. "I'll be right back, wait here." He kissed her quickly on the lips before detangling himself and moving away, feeling more than seeing Daryl fall in step right behind him.

They were making their through a crowd, a lot more people than those who lived there on the fifth floor; obviously, word of the party had spread. People were crammed together and someone had started playing music, which drifted into the hall from their room. The mass had begun to move, dancing to the beat, pushing each other around in the boorish way that college students do. Daryl stumbled forward unexpectedly when a young, tipsy girl smashed into him from behind. His hand reached out and caught the tail of Rick's button up with desperate fingers. Rick turned when he noticed he could feel Daryl shaking through the hand fisted in Rick's shirt, taking in his friend's hunched shoulders and wide, startled eyes.

Rick knew Daryl had an issue with space and touching. Combining the two had been a singularly bad idea, and it felt like a punch in the gut when he realized he'd caused Daryl's current defensive posture—poised to receive another attack. Instead of heading towards Glenn, Rick altered their course for their room, which was at the end of the hallway and a relatively safe distance from the bulk of the crowd. He was slightly surprised when Daryl did not let go of his shirt—instead, holding onto it like an elephant's tail. The top button dug against Rick's throat, yet he hardly noticed as he led them towards their room.

His mind had been so singularly focused on removing Daryl from the crowd he didn't notice that Daryl had stopped until he was pulled slightly backwards. Rick stopped and turned his head to raise an eyebrow at his companion, who didn't seem to notice. His eyes were glazed over slightly, his mouth open in a small 'o'. Rick's heart sped up; this must be some sort of reaction to the crowd, he realized—a defense mechanism to separate himself from the room. Rick stepped back, bringing himself closer to his friend, who had rooted himself to the spot. Rick placed a hand gently on Daryl's hip, a questioning touch, light and unobtrusive.

Daryl's head snapped towards Rick, obviously startled by the touch but not flinching away, his eyes were bright and questioning. "Ya hear that?"

Rick pressed his lips together in concentration, slightly surprised by the question. He cocked his head, straining his ears but all he heard was the wave of conversations and the distant beat of a thumping bass. After a moment, he shook his head. "No, I—" Suddenly, there was a crash, and all conversation abruptly ceased, as if someone had taken the needle off a record player. The bass continued to beat in the background, but the crowd had stilled.

"How dare you?!" The three words were bellowed over the music. Daryl jumped at the volume of the voice and released Rick's shirt. The argument was coming from a room on the other side of the hall. Rick looked around, heart in his throat, and realized that everyone was standing in shock, looking around at their friends or whispering quietly in conspiracy.

The quiet tone of a pacifying female voice could be heard, then a shout. The sudden cry spurred Rick into action, and he went towards the sound of the argument. He did it without thought, weaving in and out of shocked and still crowd. It wasn't even until he was in the doorway that he realized Daryl was following the path he was making through the crowd.

The door hung open, like everyone else on the hall's, and a damning image awaited them inside. A burly man had his meaty hand wrapped fully around a small woman's bicep. She was on her knees, propped up only by the man's grip on her. Her nose was bleeding, a river diluted by tears as it dripped down her chin and onto the floor. The man was red-faced and sweating.

"What are you doing?" Rick cried, jumping into action before he could think about how this man was two times his size and could easily beat him into a pulp. The man dropped his prey and turned towards Rick, who had a fist raised and managed to catch the oaf in the stomach before he was completely aware of what was happening. The beefy man came back swinging from his hunched position, catching Rick in the cheek and making stars explode in front of his eyes. As he stumbled to the side, blinking to dislodge the dark spots in his vision, he saw a dark blur streak past, landing a solid punch to the man's nose. The man's head snapped back and the blur, who Rick had identified as Daryl, jumped to the side as the man swung out blindly. He wasn't quite quick enough, and the club-like hand clipped Daryl's side.

Rick jumped back into the fray, on Daryl's other side. They shared a look, both fists raised in a defensive position, and nodded slightly. Rick threw a punch, distracting the burly man, who blocked the hit easily but left his right side open where Daryl darted around, grabbing the man around his thick neck and throwing his weight backwards. The man gagged and flailed for a moment before jabbing an elbow backwards into Daryl's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Yet Daryl hung on, clamping his hand around his other wrist. Rick, hearing the choked sound of air leaving Daryl's lungs, let loose a feral growl, throwing everything he had into a punch to the man's solar plexus. The man let out a cough and dropped to his knees.

Daryl's hair had fallen into his eyes, and he was panting heavily when he looked up at Rick. As they stood, breathless and sweating, one on each side of the defeated man, Rick felt something stir in his gut. Daryl's blue eyes were hard as ice, though they melted slightly as Rick met his gaze. Rick nodded sharply, and Daryl curled a lip in understanding. He straightened up, pulling the fat man by the hair, who squealed pathetically.

They left the room and Rick came back to his senses, noticing the room for the first time. There was a lamp shattered on the floor, and, not far from it, he saw Lori sitting on the ground. She had pulled the redheaded girl into her lap, currently wiping the blood and tears from her face with the corner of her flannel shirt. He vaguely noticed that someone had shut off the music. In its place, the woman's sobs echoed hauntingly in the room. He turned to watch Daryl leave with the offender, the crowd who had spilled partially into the room parting in shock to let them through.

Shane was standing in the front of the small group, his arms crossed over his chest and his dark eyes stormy. He met Rick's stare and then turned and walked away, rubbing a hand agitatedly through his hair as he left. Rick brushed a hand over his face, where something was tickling his cheek. He was slightly surprised to find blood on his hand when he pulled it away. The bastard must've clipped him pretty good, though the adrenaline still slipped through his veins like an energy shot, and he couldn't feel the bruise forming under the thin skin below his eye.

The guy had some power behind his punch, and Rick could see again in his mind's eye the man's elbow jamming into Daryl's stomach. He clenched his teeth and shook his head before looking at the crowd. "All right, people, show's over. Go back to the party." The party-goers reluctantly turned and left. Michonne was the last to leave, closing the door with a soft click behind her. Rick walked over to kneel down next to his girlfriend and the woman who was still weeping into Lori's shirt, repeating "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over.

"Miss…"

"Carol," Lori whispered quietly to Rick. They shared a short but heavy look.

"Carol, sweetheart, is this the first time he's hit you?"

"Ed," Carol wailed, her voice muffled by where her head was buried against Lori's chest.

Rick sighed and placed a hand on the woman's back gently. "Is this the first time Ed hit you?"

Carol hiccupped through her tears and shook her head violently, too ashamed to meet Rick's eye. Rick brushed a hand gently over the woman's dark red hair before standing. "I'm sorry this happened to you," he said quietly. "We are going to call campus police, now, is that all right? Will you talk to them?"

Carol straightened up, pushing away from Lori who dropped her hands obligingly. Rick was startled by her indisputably blue eyes, still shimmering with tears but holding Rick's gaze steadily. "Yes. Yes, I'll talk to them." Her voice did not shake.

Rick nodded at her with a tight-lipped smile, sympathy clear in his eyes, before stepping out of the room, leaving Lori to tend to the poor woman. He crossed the hall, the party had dissipated and the hallway was clear. Michonne stepped out of the small kitchen area when she heard him approach. "I just got off the phone with campus security. They're on their way. Glenn and Daryl are downstairs in the lobby with that bastard."

"Thanks, Michonne." Rick smiled weakly at her. Exhaustion began to seep into his bones as the fight went out of him.

She touched the tender spot below his eye. "Do you need help cleaning that?"

Rick shook his head and placed a hand on her wrist, pulling her away from his injury. "I'm all right."

Michonne nodded and moved off.

Rick leaned against the inside of his door when he closed it behind him. Shutting out the world on the other side. He didn't know how long he stood there, his head tilted backwards, eyes closed, just breathing, before there was a knock. For a moment, Rick considered not answering it, but, then, he realized that it must be Daryl, without his keys. Sure enough, he opened it to see the haggard man on the other side. He looked as drained as Rick felt.

"Hey," Daryl greeted sheepishly, moving past Rick into the room. Rick checked the hall before closing the door and locking the deadbolt.

"Hey." Rick followed Daryl into the room, going into the bathroom and running a washcloth under the water. When he came back out Daryl was sitting on the bed, his chest rising and falling in short spasms. Rick sat down across from him and held the cool rag to his face, soothing the throb under his skin. "You okay?" Rick asked, his eyes watching as Daryl probed his ribs.

"Ain't broken," Daryl reported.

"How do you know?" Rick asked skeptically, his eyebrow raised in concern.

"Jus' know." Daryl deflected. Rick's keen eyes searched his for a moment more, but the closed look in them told Rick this was not a subject Daryl was willing to broach. Rick could see something much darker and deeper was hidden behind that impenetrable shield. Rick took inventory of his friend, noting that his hair was slightly mussed, but he had avoided any obvious injury apart from his ribs. There was blood on the knuckles of his right hand, but Rick was sure it wasn't his.

After a few moments of silence Rick stretched his hand empty hand out to Daryl, palm up. Daryl looked at it from under his eyelashes, confusion and hesitation written all over his face. Rick flexed his fingers in a 'come here' gesture. Daryl bit his lips but flicked his eyes to Rick before placing his warm, dry palm in Rick's. Rick wrapped his hand gently around Daryl's before removing the washcloth from where it was pressed against his cheek and dabbing gently at Daryl's knuckles, methodically wiping the blood off the uninjured skin, his heart pounding absurdly in his throat. He avoided Daryl's eyes until he was finished, afraid the other man could feel his quickened pulse against the thin skin of his wrist.

When he was done he went to pull back but Daryl quickly flipped his hand over and snatched the cloth away from Rick. Rick looked at him, startled, the expression mirrored in Daryl's own eyes, as if his hand had acted of its own accord. Daryl blinked and then smiled, a tight-lipped, shy smile.

"Ya' missed a spot," he commented, gesturing towards Rick's face. "I—"

Rick saw the rugged man struggling for the words, saw the strain that maintaining eye contact was causing him. Rick nodded in understanding. He was surprised when Daryl leaned forwards, the hand that wasn't holding the washcloth coming up to tangle in the curls at the back of Rick's hair. Pleasant jolts of electricity made Rick want to simultaneously pull away and lean into the touch. Instead, he sat perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe, aware that the slightest movement might disturb the man as he cleaned Rick's cut with more gentleness than he ever thought those calloused hands were capable of.

After what seemed like years, Daryl released Rick's hair and leaned back, dropping his eyes sheepishly and holding the soiled washcloth out to Rick, who took it, their fingertips brushing, punishing him with another shock through his system. Both of them jumped slightly and the washcloth fell on the floor between them as they let go in surprise. Their eyes met, blues tangling together like dusk and dawn. They stared at each other for a long moment, the washcloth forgotten on the ground between them. After a while, Daryl looked away, long lashes fluttering as his eyes closed, concealing his emotions from Rick.

"What a party," Daryl commented gruffly.

"Yeah," Rick breathed, blinking away all the confusing emotions that were swirling inside him new and brilliant, like stardust.

"Well, I'm beat. Gonna head to bed." Daryl stood and moved away, disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door with a click, leaving Rick breathless on his bed, staring at the spot that his roommate, his friend, had just been occupying.