Chapter 19 - Best of all

The week flew in, and by the time Tahlia made it to Fox's on Friday, it was nearly 7pm.

"Ugh, it's really coming down out there!" she declared, shaking droplets of rain from her hair as she approached their usual table.

"What time do you call this?!" exclaimed Andrea. "Don't tell me you've only just finished work?"

"Not long ago." she replied, drawing a hand across her forehead. "I had back-to-back meetings all afternoon, and then got stuck on a conference call with our satellite team in L.A. I popped home to change and ended up driving here because I couldn't get a damned cab."

"Sounds like you need a drink, honey." Merle pushed a freshly poured pint towards her. "Have this one. I'll go get more."

"Such a gentleman! Thanks." grinned Tahlia, taking a seat. Stretching her arms above her head for a moment, she sent a quick glance around the room – Shadow and Dwight just there at the pool table, Sherry and Tanya at the bar. "Daryl out having a smoke?"

"Nah." grunted Merle distractedly as he fished around in his jacket for his wallet. "Little pussy's in bed. Says he ain't feelin' well."

"Yeah," Dwight chimed in as he waited for Shadow to take his shot. "Looked like shit at work today. Axel sent him home this afternoon."

"He's sick?"

"Uh-huh. Got the flu."

"Oh." Tahlia contemplated that for a moment, then slid the beer back across the table to Merle. "You know, you can hold on to that one for now. I think I might go and check on Daryl."

Everything ached.

A low, humming cell-deep pain.

Eyes stinging, sinuses blocked, Daryl shivered in his bed that felt all at once too hard, too soft, too hot and too cold, and curled up in a ball, longing for the numbness of sleep to take him over. Still in his work clothes because he didn't have the energy to change, he pulled the blanket up higher around his chin, the sound of the rain outside drumming a jarring beat in his head.

He drifted off, bobbing in and out of consciousness, and at one point he thought he heard a door slam; footsteps maybe. Even thought he heard Tahlia's voice. Must be delirious. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

"Daryl?"

Really fucking sounded like her.

"Daryl, honey."

He was going crazy.

It was only when he felt his mattress depress that he peeked an eye open, and goddamn if she didn't look as real as ever sitting there next to him. As perfect as ever. And then she reached out and stroked her thumb across his cheek, and his forehead creased.

"Tahly?" he croaked, still half-certain this must be a hallucination. "Whatchu doin' here?"

"They told me you were sick." she said, a playful glimmer in her eye. "I had to come and see if that was true or if it was just some elaborate ruse you'd concocted to get out of buying me drinks at Fox's again. You've gone to a lot of effort to make this look genuine." She smiled softly. "Seriously though, how are you feeling? On a scale of dead to alive?"

"Dead." Daryl mumbled. "Naw. The bit just before dead, coz death would probably feel better."

"Oh, darlin'. What do you need? What shall I get you?"

"Nothin'. Leave me be."

Eyes clouded with concern, she studied him and, suddenly self-conscious, Daryl burrowed his face a little deeper into his pillow.

"Get outta here. It's Friday night. Get your ass to Fox's or somethin'."

She grinned. "But if I leave, who will take care of you?"

"Take care a me?!" He would've laughed if it didn't feel so impossible. "I'm a grown-ass man. Don't need no takin' care of."

"Of course you do." she insisted in that lofty tone that always had him trying to decipher her level of seriousness. "You need someone to mop your forehead and bring you soup and shower you with pity."

Now he was sure she must be joking. "That's stupid."

Tahlia cocked her head to one side, her brow furrowing. "Have you ever had anyone take care of you when you're sick before?"

"Don't get sick much."

"But when you do?"

"Ain't never been a whole lotta sympathy floatin' 'round in the Dixon house."

"Even when you were young?"

Daryl sighed, too exhausted for an interrogation. "Stop."

And Tahlia's heart fractured a little for the small boy he once was, weathering sickness and sadness on his own, starved of love and affection and basic standards of care; and not for the first time she wondered at how well-adjusted and kind he had actually turned out to be, given his history.

"Alright." she said brightly, getting to her feet, "Up you get."

"Naw." muttered Daryl, the word choked by a hacking cough. "Feel like shit, Tahly. Ain't up to doin' nothin'. You go on, now."

"Where are your clean t-shirts? This drawer?"

"Uh… yeah, but-"

"Pants? Ooh here. How about underwear?"

"Stay the fuck away from my underwear." growled Daryl, pushing himself up onto his elbow, wincing at the pain that radiated through his head. "Hell are ya doin'?"

"Ok, I think that'll do." Tahlia announced with a pile of his clothes under her arm. "If you need anything else I can come back. Come on."

Daryl just stared at her in confused irritation.

"You're not staying here." she told him matter-of-factly. "You're coming with me to my place. I'm going to take care of you."

"God's sake." groused Daryl, flopping back onto the bed and pulling the blanket over his face. "Naw. Go away."

Perching next to him, Tahlia gently tugged the blanket down and smiled, despite his deep frown. "You have a fever, your room is too cold, your brother is too loud, and right now you're not in a position to do anything for yourself, so you are going to let me do it for you in my warm, clean, quiet apartment where I'm going to shower you with pity and take care of you until you're better."

"Tahly…"

She held up a finger at his interruption. "I'm not asking. So get your sick, smelly ass up and into my car right now, or I'm just going to sit here and sing 'American Pie' on repeat for the rest of the weekend."

Daryl looked mildly concerned at her threat, fairly certain that she'd be quite happy to follow through. "That'd be fuckin' torture." But then he gave a tiny shake of his head. "Naw. Can't come with ya. Don't wanna make you sick, too."

"Aw, sweetie," she patted his shoulder sympathetically. "I think I'll be alright. I'm immune to man flu, you know."

With an indignant grunt, he managed a decent flick to her thigh and she snickered before catching hold of his hand.

"Please will you come with me?"

Coughing into his pillow, he paused a moment to get his breath then hoarsely asked, "What 'bout Andrea?"

"She'll be staying here all weekend anyway, so better for you if you don't have to listen to them going at it."

That alone was enough to convince him. Slowly pushing himself to sit, he gazed at Tahlia, trying to understand why she'd want to do this, why she'd want to be around him at all when he was sick. "You sure?"

Tahlia just smiled. "Come on. Tell me what else you want me to grab for you on the way out."

The short distance to her car was a mammoth effort for Daryl, like trying to wade through quicksand while running on empty, and the pelting rain certainly didn't help. Tahlia tried her best to keep him dry, but hunched in the passenger seat, he started shivering uncontrollably.

"Be there real soon." she soothed, turning the heating up, and he pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window just to keep from passing out as he blearily watched the headlights streaming past in the night as they travelled into the belly of the city.

Once they made it into the apartment, Tahlia led him to her room.

"Can't take your bed." Daryl protested feebly as she ushered him in, but it really was so much nicer here in her cozy, clean room that smelled so good and was covered in her.

"Course you can. I'll sleep in Andrea's room. Here, take these painkillers."

Swallowing down the pills she gave him without question, he desperately wanted to collapse onto her incredibly comfy looking bed, but she was lifting the hem of his shirt.

Grunting, he batted her hands away.

"We need to change your shirt." Tahlia told him gently. "This one's wet."

He glared at her, but nodded in acceptance and slowly she pushed his tee up and over his head, trying her best to ignore the heat and strength of his body, his muscles rippling under her hands. Managing to stay relatively composed, Tahlia dressed him in a fresh shirt, then wrinkled her nose apologetically as she tapped his belt buckle.

"These'll have to come off too."

"Fuck outta here."

Tahlia chuckled. "I'm not being a creep, I swear! Your pants are damp and dirty, and aside from the fact that I don't want them in my bed, you'll be more comfortable with them off."

Eyeing her up warily, Daryl reluctantly complied and flicked his belt open, looking down and leaning forward a little as he pushed his jeans to his thighs, but the sudden movement had him lightheaded and he swayed on his feet, clapping a hand onto Tahlia's shoulder for balance.

"Sorry." he mumbled, embarrassed, as she caught his waist to steady him, "Sorry, I…"

"Oh, honey." Tahlia's brow knitted in concern. "You need to lie down. Here, let me."

All business this time, she efficiently stripped off his jeans and gently pushed him back onto the bed, a flicker of a smile on her lips as she settled him in and pulled the fluffy comforter up around his shoulders.

"My turn to tuck you in."

Daryl knew he should feel stupid, ashamed that he was letting her care for him like some helpless infant; he should tell her to fuck off, to leave him alone; tell her he didn't need her. But in this moment he couldn't think of anything he wanted more than her tender attentiveness, and actually, in a broader sense, he did need her, he really fucking needed her, and maybe he should tell her that.

With a sad sigh, Tahlia lightly laid her hand on Daryl's damp forehead. His eyes had fluttered closed and he'd started mumbling incoherently, so she smoothed his hair back and hushed him softly until he quietened and fell into a deep sleep.

The hours slipped by in a fevered haze and Daryl lost all sense of time as partial memories jumbled and spliced. Shadowed twilight and morning gloom, city sounds and outside noises - a squawking bird in the early dawn; a bawling drunk in the midnight silence.

And her. Pieces of her.

Her dabbing his head with a cool cloth; changing his sweat-soaked t-shirt once again; propping him up and making him drink – hot things, cold things; giving him more pills; holding his hand; sitting cross-legged in her desk chair and reading out loud from the book on her nightstand.

Daryl couldn't remember ever feeling this sick before, this utterly consumed; but he also couldn't remember ever feeling this cared for, cared about; feeling this safe.

Sunday evening rolled around and so did Andrea and Merle.

"Hi sweets, just came to see how you and the invalid are doing." Andrea greeted Tahlia, brandishing two large paper bags. "We brought takeout."

"Sugartits!" boomed Merle barreling in behind. "Kidnapped my little brother and got him holed up in your bed, huh? This some inner-city version of Misery?"

Laughing, Tahlia tilted her cheek into Merle's quick peck as he ambled past. "You're on to me! I've hobbled him and am forcing him to type out all my case notes."

Merle grinned. "Yeah, I knew you were one of 'em crazy ones. Right, I'm gonna go see if that lil pansy ass needs rescuin' from ya." Whistling loudly, Merle strolled off down to Tahlia's room to check on Daryl.

Laying her bags on the counter, Andrea eyed Tahlia up. "This is nice of you." she said evenly. "Taking Daryl in."

They could hear Merle cheerily giving Daryl a hard time about being a pussy, and Tahlia raised her brows. "Well, Merle's hardly the nurturing type, is he? I mean, listen to him." Perching on a stool, she shrugged. "He's really unwell, and he's never had anyone look after him before so I'm just keeping an eye on him until he's better."

Andrea washed her hands at the kitchen sink and then at length, said, "That all this is?"

"Yes! Oh my God, between you and Michonne, honestly!" exclaimed Tahlia with a light laugh. "Neither of you have ever been so invested in who I spend my spare time with before."

"You've never spent all your spare time with a guy you're not dating before." countered Andrea.

"You know that's just another way of saying 'friend', right?" Tahlia pointed out with a sassy arch of her brow, then started lifting containers out of the bags. "Ooh, is this from the Thai place? That's my fave."

Andrea pursed her lips at Tahlia's not so subtle shutdown of that conversation but refrained from commenting further because at this point, there was really nothing left to say. She and Michonne had already grilled Tahlia about Daryl, had voiced their concerns about her getting too attached, and worse – with his detached attitude to sex - ending up just another notch on his bedpost. Andrea now knew that Merle had warned Daryl not to fuck around with Tahlia (she'd kept it to herself though – didn't want Tahly to feel like Daryl had been playing her) and had half-expected him to lose interest, distance himself, but that hadn't happened, and if the night of the fundraiser was anything to go by, Daryl's intentions towards Tahlia seemed completely honorable. So, despite Andrea's doubts, this thing between Daryl and Tahlia seemed to be exactly what the both of them kept saying it was – no lines had been crossed, no moves had been made - they really had just become close friends, and as someone who loved both of them, Andrea resolved to just let it be.

Then Merle emerged, decidedly more subdued than when he'd arrived. "He says he don't wanna get up."

"Not surprised," replied Tahlia. "He's hardly been out of bed all weekend."

"Didn't know he was sick as that."

"I did tell you." said Tahlia gently.

"Yeah, but I thought he were just playin' it up coz…" Merle gestured vaguely at Tahlia, then gave a moody huff. "Ain't seen him like this before. Should I take him to the doctor?"

"I got him some over-the-counter antivirals and other stuff. The pharmacist said if his temperature is still up tomorrow to take him in."

Frowning, Merle considered this, then nodded and moved towards Tahlia, squishing her in a tight one-armed hug and nearly knocking her off her stool.

He loved his little brother fiercely but the best way he'd ever been able to show it was by backing Daryl up in fights and giving him a hard time to make sure he developed a thick skin. Daryl had always been the softer Dixon, the more sensitive one (even though outwardly he didn't seem it) and Merle had always overcompensated for that. If he had ever given it any thought, he might have realized that his tendency to be loud-mouthed, insolent and obnoxious stemmed from a childhood with a mean, sadistic drunk – early on Merle had learned that if he commanded the spotlight, it meant that their father wouldn't notice that Daryl was crying and turn his violent attentions back on him. Also meant that Merle had made sure never to show Daryl any softness in case their father tried to lash it out of the both of them. And even though their father was long gone and they were grown men, these habits were difficult for Merle to shake, and he had never been able to develop a dimension of kind words and gentleness with Daryl, despite the fact he had no problem displaying that side of himself around others. So, knowing that there was someone who was looking out for Daryl, who would treat him with the tenderness and care that, as much as Merle wanted to, could just never muster, choked Merle up and flooded him with gratitude, and though he'd never be able to voice all that to Tahlia, this hug would have to suffice for now.

And maybe Tahlia had a sense of all of that, because she patted his arm then gestured to Andrea and said, "You take care of her and I'll take care of him. He'll be back on his feet before you know it."

"Let's eat!" announced Andrea, pushing plates across the counter. "I'll put some aside for Daryl if he feels like it later." Then addressing Tahlia she said, "I'm going to grab a few things for work and head back to Merle's tonight, probably stay the week there. We can take Daryl home with us, if you want?"

"Nah," replied Tahlia with a shake of her head. "He's fine here. I've got him."

"Good." said Merle gruffly. "Coz we don't want him back 'til he's better, anyways."

"Perfect," declared Tahlia loftily, "Because you can't have him back until he's better." Then with a knowing flick of her brows, she elbowed Merle. "I'll tell him how much you're missing him."

"Fuck outta here." blustered Merle, trying to wrestle the smile from his face. "Pansy-asses, the both of ya."

Through the worst of it, the next two days saw Daryl on the mend – his fever broke, his cough eased, his head cleared, his energy returned, and by Tuesday he was feeling halfway human again. And though Tahlia had to go to work, she'd left silly messages on post-its around the apartment ('you're pretty' on the bathroom mirror; 'you made it to the kitchen - it's a record!' on the fridge; 'don't even think about smoking' on the balcony door) that had him smiling stupidly every time he saw one. He wouldn't be able to thank her for these last few days because it would be impossible to put into words the way she'd made him feel (like he mattered; like she saw him). Kinda got him all choked up just thinking about it. So he did some washing and changed the sheets and cleaned up and hoped that would count for something.

Climbing the stairs to the apartment after work on Tuesday, a delicious aroma hung in the air and Tahlia's stomach growled in a reminder that it had been far too long since she'd last eaten.

"Oh my." she proclaimed as she opened the door to see Daryl tossing vegetables in a frying pan, a dish towel draped over his shoulder. "Now that's a sight I'd pay to come home to every day. What is going on here?"

Daryl squinted at her through the steam. "Cookin'. Nothin' fancy."

"Well it smells amazing and I'm starving." Tahlia ditched her laptop and handbag and headed into the kitchen. "What shall I do?"

"Sit on your ass and relax." he replied, relinquishing the spatula long enough to turn her around and shove her back out of the way. "You already done enough for me."

She waved a hand dismissively. "You've just slept the whole time. I've barely done anything."

Daryl silently disagreed. She'd done everything. More than she even realized.

Taking a seat on the stool at the counter, Tahlia propped her chin on her hands and studied him, a contented smile tugging on her lips. "I'm glad you're feeling better. Had me a little worried there for a moment."

Pulling the pan off the heat, Daryl nodded. "Ain't been bad as that since… damn, dunno. Ever, maybe. Better now, though." He pushed a plate of chicken stir-fry towards her. "Think I'ma go back to work tomorrow."

"Oh wow, this looks delicious, thank you. You don't want to take another day?"

"Taken enough days. Ready to go back." He hesitated, pushing the food around on his plate. "Guess that means I should go home tonight."

Careful not to look up or he'd see the disappointment shining in her eyes, Tahlia stabbed at a piece of broccoli. It was disconcerting how quickly she'd grown accustomed to having him around, how hooked she was on this level of Daryl-ness in her life. Even though he'd been sick in bed most of the time, knowing that he was just there brought a warm bloom to her belly.

"You don't have to." she said, hoping she sounded nonchalant. "You could just stay for the rest of the week, if you want. Andrea's staying at your place until Saturday so it's not like she'll need her room back."

Daryl's stare was intense. Fixed on her. "Maybe you need your room back."

"Nah. Her bed's more comfortable than mine anyway." Tahlia twirled her fork on her plate. "Up to you. I've got nothing on besides work so I'll be here, and it's nice having the company. Especially now you've stopped coughing and sneezing and snotting." She grinned over at him. "Except I'm not changing your clothes for you anymore. You can do that yourself."

Lips quirking, Daryl flicked a piece of rice at her. "You just been takin' advantage of me. Perve."

So after dinner they drove back to Daryl's and he picked up some more clothes and his truck and was quietly relieved that Merle and Andrea weren't home because no doubt Merle would have an opinion on this and he didn't feel like trying to justify anything to his brother. Then, before he knew it, he was back in the apartment with his head on the arm of the sofa and his legs in Tahlia's lap as he watched The Shawshank Redemption and she read through a pile of case notes she had resting on his shins and every now and then he'd flick at her arm and tell her to 'watch this bit' and she'd drop her notes and pinch his thigh and look up at the screen and everything was just kind of perfect.

It rained again on Wednesday morning.

The big, heavy, dolloping kind. So, Daryl drove her to work. He liked that. Dropping her off and squeezing her hand and telling her to have a good day.

He liked the evening even more.

He'd wanted to pick her up, but she'd told him that it was hard for her to know when she'd actually finish work so it would just be easier to meet him back at the apartment. Even so, she arrived not long after him, and they talked as they cooked, as they ate, as they cleared the dishes away. Just easy, casual chat peppered with plenty of silences that didn't need to be filled because they communicated with so much more than words.

Then, side by side, they sat at the dining table and she worked on her laptop and he worked on some quotes for car repairs and the news was on in the background and it all felt so fucking wholesome that at one point Daryl pinched his wrist until he drew blood just to check that this was real.

It was though. Real. Hanging out with her and doing innocuous bullshit.

He loved every second.

Finishing his quotes for work, he tossed himself onto the sofa and channel surfed, eventually settling on a fishing show, keeping the volume low even though she insisted it didn't bother her.

"Tahly." he said, after more than an hour had passed and she'd barely looked up from her screen. "You gonna sit at that thing all night?"

"Um…" she scrubbed her knuckles into her eyes and shot him a guilty look. "Maybe. Probably. I've got a trial starting on Monday so there's some things I need to prepare, and also a whole bunch of other things I need to do since I won't have the time next week."

Nodding slowly, Daryl then got to his feet and beckoned to her. "'Kay. Take a little break now, then get back to it. C'mon."

Although she didn't quite know what he meant, she stood anyway and followed him to the door.

"We're going outside?"

He just nudged her shoes towards her, stepping into his own.

"But it's raining!"

"Lucky you ain't made of sugar, then." he remarked facetiously as he tossed a jacket at her then picked up the umbrella in the corner and headed down the stairs.

Laughing to herself at his cheek, Tahlia quickly followed after him, slipping an arm through his once they were outside so they could both squeeze close under the umbrella.

"Where are we going?"

Daryl shrugged against her. "Just out. Gettin' you some fresh air and gettin' your eyes off that screen for a minute."

It was beautiful, Tahlia realized, the drizzly evening set to sepia tones through streetlights, the rainbowed oil-slicks on the road, the silhouettes of trees swaying and showering the shadowed ground below, the muted stillness of the mid-week night city.

As they ambled down the sidewalk that ran alongside the park, Tahlia could feel the heaviness of her workload slipping from her shoulders; the to-do list of tension releasing from her chest. This is what she had needed, and she hadn't known. But he had.

She had a lot of good friends, a lot of people who knew her well, but no one quite like Daryl.

No one that was so quietly observant, so considerate, so attuned to her like there was some cell deep connection that made it so easy for them to move in sync around one another, exist effortlessly in unison.

But that was a tangled path to disappear down, one that there was no point even glancing at, so she dragged herself away by saying the most jarring thing she could think of in the moment.

"God, so, Michonne is setting me up with some guy."

Daryl's arm tightened slightly against hers. "That right?"

"Mm." hummed Tahlia. ""Yeah. It's been a while since I've been out with anyone - and we know I'm no good at one-nighters! – so I'd better get back on the dating bandwagon otherwise it's just going to be me married to my job until I die." The last part was said in dry jest, but Daryl couldn't muster a smile.

Kicking at a stick on the path, he asked, "So, who's the guy?"

"Someone Michy knows through a girl at work. Would you believe – he works in a coffee shop."

"Damn." said Daryl wryly. "Sounds dangerous for you."

"Or perfect." countered Tahlia with a grin.

"Or fuckin' perfect." muttered Daryl, then he sighed. It seemed counter-intuitive because of his entwisted mess of feelings for her, but the one thing he was sure of was that he wanted her happiness. However that was packaged. "Well, hope it works out. You need someone 'round lookin' out for ya and makin' sure you ain't workin' all hours God gave ya."

"Got you for that, don't I?" quipped Tahlia, immediately regretting the intimation, but Daryl pulled her a little closer.

"Yeah. You do." he replied soberly. "You met him yet?"

Tahlia skipped over a puddle. "Nope. His band is playing next Friday, so a few of us will go to the gig."

"Huh. Maybe I'll come."

"Oh!" exclaimed Tahlia, glancing up at him. "Really?"

"Yeah. Why not? I like music."

"You like…? Yeah, of course. Ok, sure, yep, come along to my blind date gig." Then she laughed. "But please don't introduce yourself as the man who's been sleeping in my bed."

Daryl smiled because actually, that made him feel kind of smug. "Guess we'll find out how secure he is."

Wandering in easy silence down the glittering sidewalk for a while longer, Daryl soon guided Tahlia across the road.

"Might find someone there for you too, you know." ventured Tahlia, because she was a supportive friend who, in theory, was all for Daryl making his way into a relationship.

"Maybe." agreed Daryl, because it still seemed like the only way to categorize this storm of her was to take shelter with someone else for a night or two. "'Bout time I took a girl out for breakfast after, you reckon?"

"Yep." stated Tahlia with a firm nod of her head, because that was the right answer. "About time for that."

"Maybe." repeated Daryl thoughtfully, but he decided not to mention that the only girl he'd ever taken out for breakfast was her.

He drove her to work again the next morning.

Tried not to wonder how long it would be until she made it home that evening.

Turned out to be a little later than before, but not by too much and they'd still cooked, talked, ate, orbited easily around one another. And after she'd spent a decent part of two hours in front of her laptop, he threw a cushion at her from his position on the sofa.

"Can't work all night again."

"I won't." she promised emptily, tossing the cushion back.

"Know you were up 'til after one last night."

She gave him a guilty look. "I thought I was quiet."

"You were. But I still heard ya goin' to bed real late."

Course he would've, thought Tahlia. Couldn't get anything by him.

"Ok, ten more minutes." she assured him.

"Gonna hold ya to that." Daryl told her as he headed into the kitchen and cleared away the remnants of their dinner then made some tea – the kind he knew she liked to drink in the evening (now also the kind he liked to drink in the evening). Placing the mugs on the coffee table, he moved up behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders.

"Time to shut that thing down." he murmured, sliding his thumbs firmly down the inside of her shoulder blades.

She moaned loudly and Daryl quickly pulled his hands away. Couldn't touch her while she made an indecent noise like that.

"Aww." she complained, bereft. "That was good."

"Yeah. And that's exactly why you ain't gettin' no more right now. Get up. Made you tea."

Grumbling good-naturedly about what a grinch he was, Tahlia dropped down next to Daryl on the couch as he started to flick through tv stations.

"Whatchu wanna watch?"

"Ooh, go back. MasterChef. Let's watch that."

"You and your cookin' shows." he groused even as he tossed the remote down and settled back to get into it.

"Look at that! It's burnt!" exclaimed Tahlia disapprovingly. "Oh no, she can't serve that! She's going home. She's definitely going home."

"The judges got this, Tahls."

"Don't pretend you're not judging her too. What is she doing?!"

Daryl just smiled. And then he noticed that she was pushing the fingers of each hand back, stretching her wrists.

"You sore?"

"Too much computer work. Hurts my wrists and the back of my hands get a little burny."

Heaving a put-upon sigh, he motioned for her to move closer to him, right by his side, then took her closest hand in his, and, starting from her elbow, slowly and methodically worked his thumbs over her tense forearm, her wrists, the tendons of her hand, her fingers. This drew another breathy moan from her, but he immediately nudged her, hard.

"No noises."

"But it feels so -"

"No. Noises."

Chuckling at his stern rebuke, Tahlia dropped her head back against the sofa and did her best to keep her appreciation of his strong, skilled hands on the inside.

Soon Daryl spoke again because what he was doing might feel too intimate in silence. "Friday tomorrow. Come get you after work and go to Fox's?"

Tahlia wrinkled her nose. "Actually, I was going to skip Fox's. Just have a quiet one in."

Stilling his hands for a moment, Daryl frowned. "You gonna work all night, ain't ya?"

"If I could just finish off a couple more things then I'll be in a really good position for next week!"

"'Cept for the fact you won't be able to use your hands no more." stated Daryl drily, then slipped his arm behind her and shifted slightly to angle her into him, her back now against his chest as he reached for her other arm to repeat the treatment. "Think I'ma go to Fox's. Ain't seen the others in a while. Probably a good time to move myself back home, too. Give you your space back."

Because he did have to do that at some point. And he'd already had one abrasive voice message from Merle on his phone asking why the fuck he was still playing house with Tahlia now that he was back at work. He'd ignored it, but figured his brother would probably feel like spouting his opinions about the two of them the next time he saw him, so Daryl thought it'd be better if that happened when Tahlia wasn't around to hear them. And, reasoned Daryl, it would probably do him good to have some time away from her before he got too used to this set up.

Settling herself comfortably against him and wincing as he hit a particularly tender spot next to her wrist bone, Tahlia nodded in reluctant agreement. "Yeah, that makes sense. And then I won't have to feel bad about neglecting you for my laptop. Well, Frankie's having that party at her parents' place on Saturday because they're out of town. I'll save myself for that. You going to go?"

Daryl shrugged. "Guess so."

"Never know – you might meet your breakfast buddy there!" teased Tahlia, because if they talked about seeing other people then it made their casual closeness much less confusing.

"Maybe. Frankie's got some hot friends." Daryl felt gross as soon as he'd said that. He didn't talk that way. Sounded just like Merle. But if Tahlia thought anything of it, it didn't show, and instead she breezily said,

"Perfect! I can be your wingman. Wingwoman."

Daryl scoffed. "No way. You'd be a terrible wingwoman."

"Why?!"

"Why?!" he echoed incredulously. Because if she were by his side he'd find it too difficult to pay attention to anyone else. "Coz you'd probably end up makin' best friends with the girl and the two of ya wouldn't stop talkin' and I'd get bored and go home alone."

Laughing, Tahlia tipped her head back to look up at him. "I guess that would make you my wingman."

Daryl smiled and pinched her, then Tahlia's attention was back on the tv.

"Look at that! The pork is raw in the middle and there's no time left! Maybe he's going home!"

"Hush, girl. No more talkin'. I wanna hear what the judges say."

And Tahlia snickered at that, but laid her head back against his shoulder, and he could feel her softening, relaxing, so he finished his massage and, keeping his arms around her, laced the fingers of one hand through hers and propped his feet up on the coffee table, sinking a little deeper into the sofa, sinking a little more into her. It was almost weird, how natural it felt to be this close to her, to hold her. He didn't know what that was all about and didn't care to dissect it. All he knew was that they seemed to keep ending up in some version of this tangle together nearly every time they hung out these days, and he liked it. Then, suddenly worried that maybe she didn't like it, maybe she just went along with it because he kept initiating the closeness, he cleared his throat and offered her an out.

"Tea's gettin' cold."

"Mm. I'll heat it up later." she murmured, her hand reflexively tightening around his, and he smiled a little to himself.

It had been a strange week, considering it started where it did and had ended up here. He'd never been so glad to have gotten sick.

He'd seen about all the different sides of her by now, he reckoned. Seen her all eloquent and commanding in the courtroom, polished and sharp in her work attire. Seen her weekend-casual, interested and interesting, bubbly and aglow amongst their friends. Seen her all relaxed and lazily facetious, impossible to rile. Seen her cracked open and vulnerable, life-scars on display. And over these past days he'd gotten to see her like this, too: tousled and soft and blurry-edged in these quiet, nothing moments away from the eyes of the world in the lapses around the activity of life, these pauses between breaths when she was just purely existing.

He liked all of the sides he'd seen, all of her, but he thought maybe he liked her like this best of all.