This started out as a role play between myself (gunslingerdixon) and my Carol rp partner untapdtreasure (nolongeraxburden), and it was mutually decided upon to share with the rest of FF as a fanfiction. So here it is! Enjoy!
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Also: we own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.
Daryl:
The tilt of her head as she seemed to rest into his touch made Daryl flinch jerking his hand somewhat away from the gesture. He hadn't expected the warmth of her skin to feel so soft in his large mitt of a hand as he slowly brought his hand back to let her press into his palm once more. He wasn't sure if the touch at her cheek was even warranted either, but when she hadn't jerked her head away— he took that as a small victory, relishing in the way she didn't recoil.
He found himself curiously observing her face for any clue that what he was doing was okay. That he wasn't acting like a damned virginal fool, but then again he supposed that was quite obvious at the way he was overreacting to every little movement or gesture. Most of her touches had him flinching, recoiling, pulling away or a collection of all of the above in no particular order. In his mind, most touches meant something bad, despite whom it was coming from… Even from this new crop of people that had grown to acknowledge him as an equal. It would never be easy for him to simply flip that switch off as if his past didn't dictate his future reactions. It was always at the back of his mind that these gestures were nothing more than a means of undermining his instinct to flee. To remove himself from the position of getting hurt. Of being hurt.
A selfish defense mechanism that he'd used most his life… And it had kept him alive so far.
Swallowing the thick pill of anxiety down his throat, he furrowed his brow when her hand came to rest at his neck, fingers grazing along his dirty skin. Working his jaw some, Daryl sighed heavily. This game they were playing made him weary. He was a bundle of hot nerves and any poke and prod had him over-analyzing and scrutinizing all the possible scenarios that could happen if he did this or if he said that. It was becoming tiresome and he felt like he wasn't ready for any of this. Somehow he doubted he would ever be.
The way her hands seemed to roam over his body set him on edge, drawing him out of the depths of his mind, traveling down his neck and resting at his hip. This was all new and despite his want to curl into himself and hide, the touch was somewhat desired when he thought about the feel of her hands on him. It was soothing and settling his nerves; the tension easing away from his being. When she pressed her hand to his chest, he felt the drumming of his heart speed up incrementally. It's loud beat echoing deftly into his ears drowning out all his rampant emotions and the dull thumping of the walkers always present at their door.
Always so fucking present and persistent. He felt his brow knit in frustration as the thought crept from the back of his mind to the forefront. He was mad that they took anything and everyone that they could get their clawed hands on. At that same token, he knew that if the outbreak hadn't happened, Daryl never would have become the man he was now. He would have still been stuck at his dead-end job, living in the hell-hole of a mobile home at the end of the street. Still driving his shitty run-down truck with the same sullen looks from the neighbors that he was less than the dirt on their heels. He'd been watching his life pass him by for so long and now he was somewhat in control. He could dictate what happened. Daryl now held a strip of power and he didn't know what to do with it. He still felt out of control.
When her body pressed flush against his own somewhat rigid frame, melding as one, he damned near choked on his tongue not anticipating the action, yet grateful that she had pulled her lips away from his as she had in that singular moment. His cheeks and ears were burning hot and he hoped the blush wasn't visible in the darkness as he let out a gasp of air having forgotten to breath. Daryl was sure he would have pushed away from the wall and left her there feeling his rejection had she not broken the contact when she had. Even still his desire to run away was nagging at the back of his mind telling him to just let it go. This was simply too close for him to be completely comfortable with.
Feeling the material of his shirt slip up and her hand grazing along the scar-marred skin of his back, Daryl immediately grabbed hold of her arm, dropping it quickly from her cheek to his abdomen keeping her from touching any further. His steely gaze was held firm on hers as he watched to see her reaction, gauging whether this was on purpose or not. Even if it was, Daryl rarely allowed anyone to see the shameful marks that cascaded along his back, chest and stomach let alone even touch them. Constant reminders that he was a broken man underneath the scowl and glare.
Their noses were mere inches away from one another and their shaky breaths seemed to permeate the thick air that had settled around them. The heavy pant of his chest from the strict beat of his heart made it almost impossible for him to focus. So many funny things were fidgeting in his brain. Her words rattling alongside his doubts and own toiled emotions.
You're my everything. She had said.
Daryl felt his brow furrow, knitting in confusion at her words still doing his best to process what she meant. He'd heard the phrase before in the movies and it always had him rolling his eyes thinking that it was just a load of horse-shit. And he'd be right if it wasn't directed at himself in that moment. Resuming the chewing of his cheek, he turned his head away as Carol littered light chaste kisses along the corner of his mouth, his lip curling back in frustration still not understanding why it was he was fighting her the entire way.
Daryl had fought so hard for as long as he'd had to. Never had he not had his back pressed against a wall that he didn't have to fight back on. But this? What could he do? He didn't want to hurt her, but he knew that he would even if it wasn't intentioned. He'd end up hurting himself in the end as he knew he cared greatly for this woman curled up against him. The pang of sadness he'd felt when he thought he had truly lost her came crashing back, a ripple of sorrow racking against his chest.
Why did this have to be so fucking difficult? Why did things have to be this hard? Why couldn't they just be as they were? As they always had been? Wasn't that good enough? Or was it simply not enough? Had he not shown her that he could do all that he could to protect everyone? That he was worth her words of being called a "man of honor"? What more did he have to do?
Gulping the vast expanse of emotions plaguing his mind, Daryl found his hands traveling to find her shoulders, gently pulling her away from him. He felt like a genuine asshole and he knew that is what he was. "'M sorry. I ain't…" He paused choosing his words carefully. "Can't be yer everythin'." He mumbled under his breath not daring to look into her eyes as he knew what he was doing… To her… To them.
He huffed irritated that he was so flippant about everything. At first he thought he could do this. Allow himself love and accept it for what it was, but who was he kidding? Obviously it had been himself. Daryl Dixon afraid of being loved. Falling in love. Afraid of a woman. One fucking woman. He growled at the jeering in his head moving away from Carol and thrusting his boot into the stall door once more, a crack in the hinge as it sat off-kilter, broken. Just as he was.
I'm so fucked up. Bringing his hands up to the hollows of his eyes he began scrubbing furiously not sure if he should just hide in the corner of the bathroom or face her. Face the herald that he had just genuinely screwed up the best thing about him. And this time he didn't think she would take him back.
Carol:
Carol's arm was limp in his hand as he pulled her away from touching his back. She wanted to apologize, to say how sorry she was, and that she'd never have done that on purpose. It had been a complete accident, and she had been selfish for a moment and hadn't stopped herself. She needed him to know she wasn't like other women. She could never use him up or discard him. He was way too valuable to her for that. Her lips parted but the words couldn't be found. They were lost somewhere inside, and she blamed their closeness. It had her mind running rampant and terrified that she'd lose him now because she'd been too bold. She had played hard and loose maybe in his eyes, and she didn't want him to pull away. Her eyes searched his for a long moment before she managed to squeak, "I'm sorry…"
His hand had fallen from her cheek as well, resting at her hip. His bare skin against her own, caused a flush of heat to rise quick and fast within her, making her almost dizzy. Her other hand still hung loosely around his neck, touseling the long hair she found there.
Her eyes fluttered closed as he spoke. He couldn't be her everything. Her heart was breaking now, knowing she hadn't shown him enough. Maybe she'd rushed this. Maybe this was what she deserved after everything. He'd come to bring her home. He hadn't ask for anything more. Maybe he wasn't ready? Maybe she wasn't the right girl for him. And who was she kidding? She was a broken down woman who had to claw her way out of despair and everyone elses shadows. She swallowed thickly, almost choking on the well of emotions that seemed to rise hot and thick in her throat.
His hands were pushing her away. They halted the kisses, the touches, the progress. And she let him. She couldn't fight him. She didn't have it in her this time. Her arms fell gently to her sides, almost defeated. And she had never felt more alone than right then as he pulled away from her completely. She leaned her head back against the wall, biting her tongue and promising herself she wouldn't cry. She looked up at the cieling, silently begging for this all to just have been a dream. She knew that in the cold light of day, everything between them would never be the same. And all because she had pressed an issue that shouldn't have been pressed. She'd fucked this all up, taken more rope than he'd given her freely.
Then she heard his boot connect with the door again, loosening it from his hinges. And she visibly flenched, not expecting this now. She moved her arms up and around herself protectively. She blinked quickly as a few tears fell down her dirtied cheeks anyway. Her lips quivered. Words died in her throat. How could she reassure him this was okay when she felt herself falling apart before his very eyes.
"You don't get a choice," she spoke soft and clear and just loud enough that she knew her words fell upon his ears. "Don't make it any less so because you don't want it. Don't want me…" She shrugged. She guessed it was something she would live with or die trying.
She moved back to where her pack lay forgotten on the ground against the adjacent wall. She stooped to pick it up. She needed something cleaner than her shirt to wipe her eyes on. She refused to fall apart here with him to watch the show. He didn't get those vulnerable parts of her. Not anymore. She couldn't stop the half sob that seemed to rip through her chest. She shoved her fist into her mouth, angry that she had shown weakness. She dropped the pack and smacked her hand palm flat against the concrete wall.
She'd been around him too long. His bad habits were hiding just below her surface and try as she might, she found herself falling apart. She kept her hand there, against the wall even though it stung worse than anything she'd ever done in a fit of rage. She refused to let him see she had possibly hurt herself. He lowered her forehead to the wall, taking several deep breaths.
Please review and let us know what you thought! Cheers!
*Note: This is also not 100% written by myself. I owe a lot of credit to my wonderful partner as she is Carol and does a phenomenal job. Send her some love too at untapdtreasure here at FF!