The Bite of a Blade, the Sting of an Arrow

by Shadows-Dancing-In-The-Hall

Audrey's life had never been easy. The walkers were a new twist, but surviving pain and loss was nothing she hadn't lived through before. But...Daryl Dixon was new too. And Audrey doesn't know what to make of him. Daryl/OC

35. No Thing Defines a Man Like Love

A/N: Here's the next chap! It ended up being even longer than the last one lol so I cut it into two. Next one will probably be up tomorrow or Monday. I also switched back to Daryl's POV for a bit, which I found difficult for some reason, so hopefully he doesn't come across as too OOC.

But! We do finally get a kiss ;) haha.

Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 34: No Thing Defines a Man like Love that Makes him Soft

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Daryl's eyes snap open, his entire body tense, but he doesn't know why.

The adrenaline sharpens his vision quickly, and he sees… an empty bed. A dull confusion sparks in him as he looks around and finds a white-walled room and wooden furniture, drenched in early mornin' light. Then he tries to move his head, and when a sharp pain stabs him in the temple, hazy memories flood back to him.

Fallin' off that fuckin' horse. The ravine, the walkers, the goddamn arrow in his side. He remembers stumblin' through the woods, fueled by sheer spite. Somehow, he made it back to the farm, can remember Rick's blurry face, but things get even more muddled after that.

The hunter lifts a hand to his achin' head, brushes gauze and tape, and a voice floats through his thoughts.

Andrea thought you were a walker. Grazed you, here.

It was the kid's voice, tellin' him he got shot, and—

All at once, Daryl's mind screeches to a halt. As do his heart, lungs, hell the fuckin' blood in his veins. Suddenly, the shitfest he barely lived through yesterday doesn't matter. Not the fall, not the arrow or bullet, not even the pain. Cuz he remembers what came after that.

Audrey.

Daryl sucks in a sharp breath as he quickly rifles through the fuzzy memories. She had… kissed him, in the bathroom. He can picture her pale and terrified face hoverin' over him, his blood smeared across her mouth while she ordered him to stay awake. He later thought it was one of his hallucinations, like Merle in the woods.

But then the kid had broken down over her dinner, cryin' about how scared she'd been. Scared for him. Scared of… losin' him. He hadn't known how to respond, didn't know what to do with the urge to wrap his arms around her shakin' form, so he deflected with a joke. But the thought kept' buggin' him, as did the ghostly memory of her lips on his.

So, when the pain pills loosened his tongue enough, the question just came out.

Why d'ya kiss me?

He regretted askin' the minute he said it. Regretted it even more when she said she was obviously just tryna keep him awake. But then… somethin' had been off in her voice, enough to make him look at her, and what she said next had rocked him to his very core.

What if I wanted to?

Even now, the words send a shiver down his spine, makin' his skin hot and tight. At first, he thought she was fuckin' with him, which pissed him off. Cuz it wasn't possible that she…

But she did.

Daryl, I'm trying to tell you that I… like you.

Last night, he couldn't believe it. Couldn't accept it. He threw up every road block he could think of, every nasty thought that had whispered in the back of his mind, to get the kid to realize how idiotic she was bein'.

But she was always so damn stubborn. She argued with him, defended him, even to himself. She refuted every one of his points like she was a goddamn lawyer at trial, insistin' that he was a good man and that she honestly… cared for him. Hell, she'd even shown him the scars on her back, the scars that so closely matched his own.

Daryl feels his marred skin itch now and thinks about how he and Audrey had more in common than he ever realized. Or wanted.

He had been powerless against her after that, all his walls crashin' down like dominoes. It was why he'd asked her to stay, to sleep beside him. It was why he'd taken her hand in the dark while his heart was tryin' to punch its way out of his ribcage.

But… where is she now?

The hunter scans the room again, like he might have missed her standin' three feet away. It's empty, though, just like the bed beside him and the chair in his line of sight. Daryl immediately feels his throat tighten with embarrassment and shame. Had the kid come to her senses? Had she realized her words were a mistake and snuck out before he woke up?

Or… was it all just a dream, a hallucination? Maybe none of it had happened at all, and his pathetic, sick, delusional mind had conjured up the whole damn thing.

Daryl feels his stomach turn, nausea risin' up inside him, but before he can truly spiral, a noise cuts through both his thoughts and the silent bedroom. It's loud enough that it makes him jump, unfamiliar enough now that it takes him a moment to realize what he's hearin'.

It's the sound of a toilet flushin', followed by water groanin' through the house's old pipes. Moments later, he hears the hiss of a sink bein' turned on and left on for over a minute before it cuts off. He listens to the creak of door hinges, twice, and the hunter instinctively closes his eyes as someone enters the bedroom behind him.

Daryl holds very still as he tracks the pad of bare feet slowly makin' their way around the bed. The person's gait is uneven, hobblin', and the hunter fails to squash the hope burstin' to life in his gut like a firecracker.

He hears the muted rustle of items bein' moved, and he slits open his eyes until he can see a figure hunched over at the far edge of the bed. The person's back is to him, but he recognizes her all the same. He closes his eyes again as she straightens. A few seconds pass before the bed dips, and he listens as Audrey lies back down beside him, obviously tryin' to be quiet.

His heart is poundin' a tattoo into the underside of his sternum, and he worries she might hear it. Then, when he feels her fingers very slowly slide over his hand, he worries the muscle in his chest is gonna stop altogether.

Audrey settles soon after that, her hand snuggly intertwined with his, but Daryl's skin itches like he fell face-first into a fire ant hill. Eventually, he can't take it anymore, and he opens his eyes to find the kid starin' directly at him.

She freezes as their eyes meet. Her breathin' stutters, and the hunter watches as a blush crawls over her cheeks, floodin' in between the fadin' bruises.

"Shit," she finally whispers, a grimace tuggin' at her lips, and Daryl finds himself helplessly starin' at them. "I didn't mean to wake you. Sorry."

"Ya didn't," he mutters and forces himself to meet her eyes again.

It's kind of a lie, he realizes he probably woke up when she went to the bathroom, but he hates the way guilt looks on her face.

"Oh." She blinks, lookin' awkward. "Then, um… g-good morning, I guess. How are you feeling?"

She punctuates the question with a gentle squeeze of his hand, which she is still holdin' between their shoulders. Daryl looks at his larger, rougher fingers tangled with her daintier ones, and all his thoughts turn to mush as she rubs her thumb across his skin.

"Daryl?"

Snappin' his eyes back to hers, he fumbles for a response.

"Fine," he says shortly, but when her face pinches with skepticism, he reluctantly elaborates. "Head and side both ache a bit. But I've had worse hangovers."

"Hmm…" The kid frowns, her gaze assessin' him. "Well, when we go back to camp, you can take another pain pill. After you have some breakfast."

Daryl absently wonders when he started needin' permission to take his own drugs, but the thought is quickly brushed away. He can't even find it in him to be angry cuz he knows the kid is just tryin' to look after him. Is worried 'bout him. Cares 'bout his well-bein'.

His chest feels simultaneously warm and too tight, and he clears his throat to distract himself from the sensation.

"What time's it?" he grunts.

With the amount of light comin' through the half-drawn curtains, it's far past dawn, but he can't get any more specific.

"Uhhh…" Audrey's eyes click over his shoulder, and she raises her head a little, squintin' at the clock on the dresser. "About 8:30. I heard people moving around the house earlier, and when I glanced out the window, it seemed everyone in camp was already up and about."

Her gaze comes back to his, and with her so close, only inches away, Daryl can practically count the flecks of gold and brown in her eyes. As they stare at each other in silence, her breathin' grows a little shallow, and when she exhales quick and light, it brushes past his cheeks, smellin' of mint.

The hunter gets another abrupt flash of memory, the last thing he remembers from the night before. Audrey, just as close to him, starin' at him like she is now, her voice quiet in the dark bedroom.

I just… wanted to kiss you.

Against his will, he looks at her mouth again, and he feels all the saliva dry up in his. He watches her swallow, the column of her throat movin' up and down, and he can see she's gearin' up to say somethin'.

He doesn't know what she's gonna say, but he knows he ain't ready for it, so he panics and beats her to the punch.

"Gotta take a piss."

Audrey blinks, and Daryl bites his cheek so hard he tastes blood. He didn't mean to say that. Meant to say literally anythin' else. But he's gotta follow through with it now, and at least with some distance, he might be able to get his damn thoughts in order.

"Um, well, the bathroom's… right next door," the kid murmurs, her face pink.

Daryl grunts wordlessly and is about to sit up when he encounters a problem. A problem that makes his face burn while every curse word known to man tumbles through his head. He's thankful the blanket is pulled up around his chest, but Audrey is still starin' at him, laid out on the pillow with her soft hand wrapped around his, and she is not helpin' matters.

He races to come up with a solution and says the first thing that flashes through his mind.

"Can ya… grab that shirt ya brought me?"

The kid's eyebrows kit together for a moment before realization flashes over her face.

"Oh, yeah, lemme just…" she trails off as she slowly withdraws her hand from his.

Daryl ignores how his fingers instantly feel colder, and he curls his hand into a fist as he watches her carefully sit up on the edge of the bed.

She hisses a little when she reaches for her bag that wasn't on the chair earlier, and as she leans forward, the back of her orange t-shirt rides up several inches. Daryl holds his breath. At first, he gets caught on the curve of her bare waist, how her pale skin sloped down and then out to her hips. Guilt instantly flares through him, but it's quickly eclipsed by anger when she leans a little further, and he sees the scars that crisscross her lower back.

Hatred fills his chest next, hatred for the monstrous son of a bitch that marked her so brutally. The hunter knows what it feels like to have his back peeled open by a strap of leather, and the fact that Audrey knows it too makes him sick with rage. The kid should never have had to go through that, she should have never known that kind of pain.

Daryl doesn't even realize he's moved until he's watchin' his hand reach toward her, as if in slow motion. By the time his brain catches up, his fingertips are already ghostin' over the thickest scar in the dip of her lower back, the skin both raised and smooth under his calluses.

Audrey immediately jumps, her back shyin' away from him as her head snaps around. Her eyes are wide, and Daryl's stomach flips over itself.

"Fuck, sorry, I—" Words fail him, and he retracts his arm, hot with shame.

"No, it's… it's okay," the kid replies as she half turns to face him. "You just… surprised me is all. It didn't hurt or anything. It, um, kind of felt… nice."

Her face is as red as Daryl's feels, and he can't look at her, too many emotions swirlin' through his throbbin' head.

"My shirt?" he mumbles, starin' resolutely at the window.

"Oh, r-right. Here you go."

A piece of fabric lands on the fist he's pressed to his thigh, and he blindly snatches it, swingin' upright in the same motion. He moves a little too fast, his side burnin', but he ignores it as he starts wrestlin' the shirt on.

"Be careful," Audrey cautions, and in his peripherals he can see her reachin' out, across the bed, to help him. "You'll pull your stitches."

"M' fine," he grunts, more harshly than he intended.

But if she touches him right now, all the blood that's in his face is gonna flee south.

The kid freezes mid motion, arm extended toward him. He feels another stab of guilt, but he needs to get up. Needs to splash cold water on his face and fuckin' get his shit together before he does somethin' stupid, like touch her again.

Daryl shoves the blankets off his lap and turns to drop his legs over the side of the bed. His shirt is only half on, but he can feel those green eyes starin' at him, and he's still half hard in his boxers. So, he pushes himself to his feet, stumblin' for the door even as his vision swims.

Audrey calls out to him softly, but he waves her off over his shoulder, yankin' open the door and staggerin' into the adjacent bathroom. He slams the door harder than he means to, and he winces, cursin' quietly.

Once he's alone, he flicks on the light and braces his arms against the sink, breathin' through his nose and out through his teeth. After a few rounds of this, he finally opens his eyes, glarin' down at the tent in his boxers. He wishes he could just chalk it up to normal mornin' wood, but he knows that's a damn lie.

As much as he tries not to, all he can think about is green eyes, pink lips, the brush of soft, warm skin against his own. All he can hear is her voice, whisperin' everything that the deepest, darkest, most selfish part of him wanted to hear.

Maybe I don't mind you looking.

I just… wanted to kiss you.

As if tauntin' him, his dick throbs, hard enough to hurt, to make him lightheaded.

Groanin', Daryl smacks his hand against the faucet, aggressively turnin' on the cold water tap. He lifts his head and glares at his flushed reflection, then at the strip of bandages wrapped around his brow. It's makin' his hair stand up at ridiculous angles. He rips the white fabric off in a fit of embarrassed rage, followed by the square of gauze, tossin' both down on the sink counter before duckin' his head.

He cups his hand under the faucet and splashes water on his hot face, shiverin' as the cold droplets trickle down his neck and chest. It stings around his temple, and he squints at the mirror to inspect the neat row of stitches the old farmer gave him. The skin is a little red but not bleedin', and the wound is only a few inches long. He still can't believe Blondie was the one to shoot him, but he's had worse.

Like the hole in his side.

Pullin' his shirt out of the way, Daryl looks down at his abdomen and peels the gauze down until he can see the stitches. There are lot of more of them, and the wound looks angry, raised and inflamed. He doesn't think it's infected yet, but he should take an antibiotic as soon as he can to be safe.

Thankfully, the cold water and dull pain have done the trick for his 'problem,' and Daryl's able to shuffle over to the toilet and actually relieve his bladder. When he's done, he goes to wash his hands, and he can't help inspectin' himself in the mirror again.

His hair is still stickin' up at stupid fuckin' angles, so he runs his wet fingers over the wayward strands. Then his eyes fall below the mirror, to a little shelf built into the wall above the sink. Various odds and ends are scattered across it, like hair ties and bobby pins, but the hunter is starin' at the palm-sized blue bottle that is half full.

Out of nowhere, he remembers Audrey's breath smelled minty, which meant she must have brushed her teeth earlier. Daryl's mouth suddenly tastes sour, fuzzy, and without thinkin', he grabs the small bottle of mouthwash. He unscrews the cap and dumps all of the liquid into his mouth, swishin' it around vigorously. The alcohol burns the cuts on his tongue and cheeks, but he powers through it until he finally spits everythin' out in the sink.

His mouth feels numb but tastes infinitely better, and he drags the back of his wrist over his lips. Lookin' up, he catches his reflection's eyes, and embarrassment crawls through him when a voice that sounds like Merle sneers in his head.

Now, whaddya go and do that for? Hopin' she'll actually kiss ya?

Daryl shoves the thought away and flicks off the light so he doesn't have to look at himself anymore. He stands there in the dark, just tryin' to center himself, and then he yanks open the door and stalks back into the bedroom.

He'd been plannin' to be gruff, aloof, to not even look at the kid and just get on with his day. But that all goes to shit the moment he closes the door behind him and catches Audrey's smile, bright and warm as the mornin' sun.

"Glad to see you didn't fall in," she jokes, her emerald eyes crinklin' at the sides.

She's sittin' in the chair on the other side of the bed now, hunched over and tuggin' on her boots. Her position gives Daryl the perfect angle to see down her V-neck shirt, and he immediately feels paralyzed and hot all over.

Forcibly tearin' his eyes away, he looks at the jeans and socks sittin' in the spot he slept in, and he abruptly remembers that he's standin' there in his boxers and a half-buttoned shirt.

The thought makes him stumble into motion, and he picks up the jeans first, his fingers a little numb. His side is already achin' from pullin' on the shirt, so he elects to sit on the edge of the bed with his back facin' the kid. It's still a struggle to get the pants on without poppin' his stitches open, but he swallows any noise of pain, cuz he doesn't want—

"Do you need any help?"

That.

"I got it." He holds the waistband of his pants and tries to lasso them onto his feet without bendin' over.

"You know," the kid drawls, and he hears her get outta the chair, the clunk of her boots makin' their way across the hardwood floor. "Asking for help isn't a crime."

Daryl looks up to find her standin' over him, leanin' on the post at the foot of the bed. Her smile is tentative, teasin', and his tongue forgets how to move for a minute.

"Really?" he finally scoffs, and he pointedly looks at her boot and splinted wrist. She isn't wearin' the sling anymore, and he wonders why and where it went.

"So I'm bad at taking my own advice," she laughs. The sound is light and airy and takes his breath away, as does the full-blow grin she directs at him. "Do as I say not as I do, Dixon. Now will you let me help, or are you going to tear your stitches out of pure stubbornness and pride?"

She cocks an eyebrow at him, holdin' her hand out, and Daryl is distracted by the memory of what that hand felt like in his. Enough that she is able to reach out and grab the jeans from his slack grip, and only then does his brain snap back to attention.

"Kid—"

"Nope, too late." Audrey steps in front of him and immediately goes to her knees, so quickly that Daryl feels himself short-circuit as she sits back on her heels.

The image is familiar, uncomfortably so, and he suddenly gets another flash of memory from yesterday, of her kneelin' between his thighs and tearin' his belt and pants open. He knows it was just cuz he was bleedin' out, but his body doesn't, and he's apparently retained enough blood to be a goddamn pain in the ass. He could feel it all tryin' to flood south, and he clenches every muscle he can in an effort to stop it.

Daryl jerks out of his thoughts as he feels fingers and fabric brush over his feet, then ankles. Lookin' down, he sees Audrey workin' the jeans up his calves, toward his knees, and—

"I got it," he repeats and snatches the waistband from her before she can get too far up. "Just… back up."

Those green eyes flick up to meet his, and only then does the kid seem to realize her position. A rosy flush blooms across her face, and she quickly rocks up to her feet, shufflin' back a couple steps.

Daryl doesn't like lookin' up at her, so he stands, too, yankin' the jeans up with him and turnin' away so he can tuck himself in and zip up. His eyes land on the pair of socks sittin' on the bed, but he definitely doesn't want a repeat of what just happened, so he snatches them up and shoves them in his back pocket.

"Know where my boots are?" he asks, scannin' the floor so he doesn't have to look at Audrey, who's still standin' too close.

"Hm? Oh, no, actually. Sorry. Last I saw them was in the bathroom, but someone cleaned up after us. I can go find them, though."

"S'fine," he mutters. "I'll look on the way out."

"Are you, um, ready then?"

Somethin' in her voice makes the hunter finally look at her again. She seems to have drifted a step closer, close enough that he could reach out and touch her. Her cheeks are still pink, her lower lip trapped between her white teeth, but when she meets his gaze, her brow furrows.

"Oh, you're bleeding," she says, her eyes trained on his temple.

Daryl reaches up and brushes his fingers over the stitches, and the tips come away spotted in red.

"Ain't much," he replies, wipin' the blood off on his jeans.

"What happened to the bandages?" Audrey asks with a frown.

Daryl thinks about how ridiculous he looked in the mirror, but he ain't gonna say that out loud, so he comes up with some other bullshit.

"Five minutes outside, and it woulda just been drenched in sweat anyway," he grumbles. "Best to let it air out."

"Okay…" the kid says, but she still looks worried and somethin'… else. "It doesn't hurt too bad, though? Your head, I mean. No dizziness or double vision? Spots of color or blackness?"

"What, ya want me to do a field sobriety test?" he scoffs, dismissive even though somethin' in his chest is preenin' over her concern.

Audrey narrows her eyes, but he can see the corner of her mouth tick upward. "Actually, yes. Please put your finger to your nose and walk in a straight line, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl rolls his eyes but half complies, touchin' his nose with his index finger and takin' two steps forward, until he's loomin' over her. He immediately chastises himself for gettin' too close, close enough that her breath skims over his clavicle through the open collar of his shirt, but he can't retreat like a pussy now.

"Happy, Officer Bennett?" he asks, landin' somewhere between sarcastic and cocky.

He doesn't miss the way the kid jumps before she drags her eyes up to his.

"I-I guess I won't have to haul you downtown this time, Dixon," she tries to joke, but her words come out breathy, and the hunter can see her pulse flutterin' at the base of her neck. "So, um… would you say your head's on straight then?"

The question knocks the cockiness right outta him, his body immediately goin' stiff as her whispered words from last night come back to haunt him yet again.

I just… wanted to kiss you. But I'll wait until your head's on straight.

White noise echoes between his ears, and Daryl feels like his jaw has been super glued shut. His tongue feels like sandpaper as it scrapes over the roof of his mouth, and try as he might, he can't look away from those damn green eyes. He sees the hesitancy in them, and the hope, and he doesn't know what to fuckin' do.

Logically, he thinks he should refuse her, bring some sense back to the situation now that he ain't concussed and higher than a Georgia pine. But all of her defenses and arguments start cyclin' through his head on a loop, and the dark, selfish part of the hunter wants to grab the kid and never let go.

Cuz, somehow, she wants him, too. And maybe— if he quit bein' such an asshole and got out of his own damn way— he could let her.

So, even though a coal of guilt is still smolderin' in the pit of his belly, he jerks his head in a nod and watches Audrey flash him a brilliant, happy smile.

"Great!" she chirps before her smile takes on a mischievous edge. "That means you can finally admit I won our bet."

Daryl blinks as he processes her words. When he does, he doesn't know whether to feel embarrassed, angry, or disappointed, so he settles for a combination of all three.

Of course she was talkin' 'bout the bet. He was stupid to think otherwise.

"Tch, ya ain't gonna let that shit go, are ya?" he grumbles, shiftin' back on his heels to put some distance between them.

"Hell no I'm not!" the kid crows. "This is the culmination of weeks of hard work! Truthfully, I was starting to give up hope there, but I should have believed in myself. So, come on, Dixon. Admit that I found a poem even you liked. Admit defeat!"

Honestly, Daryl can't even really remember the poem she's talkin' about. The words are muffled and faded in his memory, like a song heard from several rooms away. He couldn't tell ya a single line even with a gun to his head.

But… he does remember lookin' up at Audrey as she read it. Her remembers how soft her voice had been, how the lamp had wreathed her head in a golden halo. Like she was an angel. Like she was an actual saint. The hunter can remember thinkin' the word beautiful with such intensity that it had startled him, disoriented him, enough that he blurted out likin' the poem so she wouldn't suspect his real thoughts.

For a moment, he considers retractin' his approval. But the grin on her face, coupled with the excited gleam in her eyes, disarms him entirely. He's helpless to stop his next words.

"Fine. Ya win. Happy?"

Audrey's grin doubles in size, nearly splittin' her face in two, and she rises up on her tiptoes and cups a hand behind her ear.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asks teasingly. "I didn't hear you. Was Daryl Dixon actually admitting he was wrong?"

"Don't push yer luck, kid." He places a hand atop her head and gently shoves her back, ignorin' the brush of soft skin and even softer hair.

"Aww, don't be a sore loser," she giggles and drops back on her heels. She's still grinnin' as she looks up at him, and she sets her good hand on her hip. "So, what do I win?"

"'Sides insufferable braggin' rights?"

"Naturally, those are a given." She smirks.

Daryl rolls his eyes, but after a moment, he shrugs his shoulders, shufflin' his bare feet on the cold wooden floor. "What d'ya want? Ya were the one who decided winner's choice."

Audrey's brow furrows, like she's thinkin' back to when they made this stupid bet in the first place. It was only a few weeks ago, but it feels like years to the hunter. The quarry already seems like a dream.

"Oh, right," she says after a moment, and her eyes slip out of focus as she purses her lips in thought.

It's silent while she apparently tries to come up with a suitable reward, and Daryl can't help starin' at her. At the little crease she gets on her brow when she's thinkin' real hard. At the way she's subconsciously chewin' on her lower lip. His gaze snags on a strand of hair that's trailin' into her face, and he has to fight the sudden urge to tuck it behind her ear. It's especially hard cuz he's already done the motion before, knows what her hair feels like slidin' through his fingers.

The hunter tears his eyes away from the temptin' lock of hair, but then he just gets caught in the emerald pools of her eyes.

Which are suddenly focused and trained right on him.

Audrey clears her throat as they lock gazes, and the apples of her cheeks are pale pink now, like the first streaks of dawn.

"Well, uh, what about… a kiss?" she asks, her voice droppin' to a whisper at the end, but it's still enough to take him out at the knees.

Daryl stops breathin' as heat floods his face, spillin' down his neck to his chest. He can't even tell what expression he's makin', the muscles equally numb and twitchy, but it can't be a good one cuz the kid immediately backtracks.

"W-Wait, no, forget— forget I said that." She quickly waves a hand in front of her red face, and despite everythin' she said last night, Daryl waits for her to follow up with a noise of disgust, to laugh and say she would obviously never want somethin' like that from someone like him. But, instead, her face turns sheepish as she looks up at him through her lashes and adds, "I wouldn't want to force you to do… that, just for some bet. So, w-what about tracking lessons? I'm still pretty hopeless in the woods, and I would like, um, not to be."

Daryl is still reelin' from the whiplash of her last few statements, but he forces himself to answer her question as evenly as possible.

"I can do that," he mumbles through numb lips. He'd thought about it before, knew the kid was a quick study, he just never plucked up the courage to offer. She'd done the hard part for him, but as he averts his gaze downward, the sight of her wrapped wrist and boot makes him add a condition that he won't budge on. "After ya heal up."

"O-Oh, yeah, of course, I meant after we're both off bedrest," she replies. "But it's a deal, Dixon. Thank you."

When he focuses on her face again, she's wearin' a strained smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes. He can also see the embarrassment and uncertainty flickerin' behind the fake mask, and her first request is still resoundin' through his skull like a bell, like a siren.

He ain't even fully thinkin' when he opens his mouth.

"Ya wouldn't haveta force me."

Audrey blinks up at him as she tries to decipher his words, and Daryl wants to swallow his tongue, especially when recognition finally sparks in her eyes. Then she blushes all the way up to her hairline, and he ain't no better. He's so hot he's worried that blood is gonna start steamin' from his pores any second now.

"Oh," she breathes, and when she looks at his mouth, the hunter is convinced he's moments away from an aneurysm. "So… you do remember our conversations from last night?"

Remember? How could he fuckin' forget? Even with a concussion, her words had been branded into his brain. He can't say that out loud, though. In fact, he can't say anythin', cuz his tongue's suddenly gone limp and dead.

All he can do is nod silently.

Green eyes— the same green eyes that have fuckin' haunted him since the moment he met them across a creek— flick up to meet his gaze. He can tell she's searchin' for somethin'. What, he doesn't know.

But she must find it cuz, after an endless moment, she inhales shakily and leans toward him.

She's movin' slow enough that Daryl has a thousand chances to escape, to refuse, but he doesn't. He can't. His body feels paralyzed, heavy as stone and just as responsive.

But, more than that, he doesn't want to escape, even though his heart is racin' fast enough to make him nauseous and dizzy.

As Audrey raises up on her tiptoes, it feels like he's starin' down a train barrelin' straight for him. Times slows, then stops. Just like his breathin.' When her mouth is hoverin' inches from his own, she hesitates as she gives him one last out.

Daryl doesn't take it, and then her lips brush against his, light as a feather.

Even that bare ghost of a touch is enough to make his legs shake. He's still not breathin', spots beginnin' to dance in front of his eyes, and his body remains rigid, like a statue, with his fists clenched at his sides. A voice in the back of his head is screamin' at him to move, to respond, to fuckin' kiss her back. But it's like he's been torn out of his body, and he is bein' forced to watch himself fuck up the only thing he's ever wanted in his entire goddamn life.

As the poundin' in his head builds, Audrey's lips continue to skim over his with no real pressure, but after what feels like an eternity, she slowly pulls away.

Daryl's eyes have been wide open and unblinkin' since she started to lean into him, so he immediately catches the discomfort on her face.

"S-Sorry," she murmurs as she falls back on her heels. "You didn't have to let me— I-I thought you also wanted…"

She trails off, lookin' vaguely sick, and when she starts to turn away from him, the hunter suddenly slams back into his body, everythin' tingly and hot. Without thinkin', he reaches out and catches her hand, his grip gentle but firm.

Slowly, Audrey tilts her face to look up at him, her green eyes wide, hopeful, and before Daryl can chicken out, he ducks his head and kisses her.

It's a real kiss this time. He presses his mouth firmly, intentionally, over hers, can feel the wall of her teeth just beyond her soft lips. But he has no idea what the fuck he's doin'— the only times he's ever kissed anyone, he's been drunk off his ass— so the angle is way off, his nose diggin' almost painfully into hers.

There are just enough synapses left firin' in his brain to feel embarrassed by his lack of skill, but before he can retreat out of the room, tail between his legs, she makes this noise in the back of her throat that sets his blood on fire.

Then she tilts her head to the side until their mouths can slot together more securely, and Daryl feels her hand tug free of his before it grips the edge of his half-buttoned shirt like she's tryin' to keep him right there. Their lips slide against each other more easily now, and when she parts her mouth a little, he can taste her minty breath.

Eventually, the hunter thinks he might actually pass out from the lack of air, and he reluctantly forces himself back, their lips disengagin' with a soft pop. If there was any oxygen left in his brain, he might have felt ashamed of the loud, ragged gasp he dragged into his achin' lungs, but he can't manage it at the moment.

His eyes flutter open— when the hell did he shut them?— and he looks down at Audrey's dazed face.

Her are lips are red, as are her cheeks, and she's swayin' a bit. Daryl moves without conscious thought to steady her, his right hand settlin' on her hip while his left grips her shoulder. She leans into his touch as her unfocused eyes trail back up to his, and a broad, wild smile blooms across her face like a firework. It immediately makes somethin' warm tighten in his gut, makes his heart kick in the cage of his ribs, and he swallows past a suddenly dry throat.

"Well," Audrey whispers, still grinnin' up at him like she won the damn lottery. "I'd say that one counted. Definitely worth the wait."

Daryl's head is still swimmin', so he doesn't know how to respond, but she doesn't seem to mind, dartin' up to peck one last kiss against the corner of his mouth. It rocks him back on his heels, and he clenches his hands before realizin' they're still wrapped around the curves of her hip and shoulder. He quickly drops his arms, feelin' stupidly guilty despite what he'd just willingly done.

The kid— fuck, no, he can't think of her like that if he's gonna be doin'… that. He thought the nickname would deter him from lookin' at her, but obviously that didn't fuckin' work, and now it just feels… wrong. Dirty.

All of the reasons why he should not have kissed her come creepin' back to him, but Audrey doesn't notice, slippin' away from him while hummin' under her breath. He tracks her in his peripherals as she grabs her pack from the other side of the bed, and she practically skips back to his side.

Daryl absently realizes that she's wearin' one of the hiking boots he found for her, and that green bandana is trailin' out of her front pocket. Seein' his gifts on her offsets some of his lingerin' guilt and replaces it with somethin' akin to pride, and he meets her eyes again as she brushes past him and reaches for the door.

"Come on, Dixon," Audrey says over her shoulder. "Let's go find your boots and rustle up some breakfast."

Daryl feels like he should say somethin', anythin', at this point. They should probably… talk about what just happened, right? Not that he really wants to, not that he even knows what to fuckin' say.

But somethin' has fundamentally changed between the two of them. It's like the earth reversed its spin, and the hunter feels off balance, unsteady.

But Audrey just throws him one last smile as she slips out of the bedroom, and he finds himself mindlessly followin' her, like a dog on a leash. He trails after her down the hall and squints as they step out into the brighter livin' room.

"Oh!" a voice gasps, and the hunter turns to his left, findin' a young blonde girl.

He thinks she might be one of the farmer's daughters, but he ain't sure, and he doesn't much care. If he was by himself, he would probably just walk out of the house without a word, but when he looks back at Audrey, he finds her smilin' at the other girl.

"Oh, hey, Beth," she says as she steps slightly around him. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"N-No, it's okay." The blonde waves a jittery hand, her too-big blue eyes dartin' between them. "I just… wasn't expectin' y'all. Is everything alright? Do you need Daddy?"

"No, no, we're fine. We were actually just about to head back to camp. Unless you wanted Herschel to give you another exam?" Audrey's eyes click to him, questionin', and Daryl makes a face that she clearly tries not to laugh. "Yeah, we're okay. But tell your dad thank you again."

"I will." The girl— Beth— smiles, but it's awkward. Her blue eyes also keep jumpin' to him over Audrey's shoulder, and she cups one of her elbows as she shifts from side to side. "Do you guys… need anything else before you go?"

"Actually, do you know where Daryl's boots are?" Audrey asks. "They were in the bathroom yesterday, but I lost track of them after that."

"Oh, I moved them to the front door," the girl replies, pointin' past them. "T-The clothes weren't really… salvageable, though, so I threw those out. Hope that's alright."

Daryl purses his lips, thinkin' how his jeans had been fine, if a little blood-soaked, but Audrey waves the blonde off.

"That's fine. I'm just sorry you got stuck with the clean-up. I know it was a mess in there." She smiles apologetically before her eyes widen and drop down to her chest. "Oh, thank you for letting me borrow your clothes, by the way. I'll wash them back at camp and return them to you later this afternoon, if that's okay."

The hunter glances at her outfit, the pale orange shirt and beige shorts, and realizes they don't fit her right. She's a few inches taller than the blonde girl, so everythin' is a little short.

He tears his eyes away before he gets caught oglin' and tunes back into the conversation.

"It's really not a problem, I have tons of clothes," Beth replies. "You could even keep them, i-if you want."

"I've taken enough of your time and medical supplies, I'm not about to start stealing your clothes, too," Audrey laughs. "Besides, it's not like we can drive down to the mall to replace them."

"R-Right," the girl says, her smile awkward again. "Well… maybe we could do a swap! Maggie and I used to do that all the time growin' up. We'd make Daddy sit through our own little fashion shows, even though the clothes weren't exactly new."

"Aw, that sounds fun," Audrey replies, but now her smile is awkward, too. And a little strained. "I don't really have much to offer, though, since I've, uh, been on the move a lot."

Beth's smile dims, turns into a grimace, and her face goes pink. "Oh, yeah, o-of course. Sorry, that was a dumb idea…"

She trails off, scuffin' her foot on the floor. The air feels tense, stiflin', and Daryl is about to turn around and walk away cuz why the hell is he even still standin' here, but Audrey speaks up again.

"If you're not busy later, though, maybe we could… hang out a bit," she offers tentatively. "I saw a checker board out on the porch, we could play a game. Or I have some books you could borrow."

By her tone, the hunter can tell she don't really wanna do any of that shit. Despite her protests, she really is too much of a saint for her own damn good.

The blonde girl doesn't seem to notice, though. Her blue eyes just widen, and then her head bobs in a quick, spastic nod.

"Y-Yeah! A game sounds great. Oh, I can make us some lemonade! Daddy always said mine was the best in the county."

"Then I'm looking forward to trying in." Audrey flashes that too-stiff smile again before she starts turnin' toward the front door. "I have some stuff to do around camp this morning, but I'll come find you after lunch?"

Again, Beth nods excitedly, her own smile wide and bright. "See you then!"

Audrey waves over her shoulder and then meets his eyes, jerkin' her head toward the door. Daryl silently follows after her and spots his boots lined up neatly just inside the threshold. He shoves his feet into them bare, not even botherin' with the laces, and Audrey raises an eyebrow as he pushes open the screen door.

"Are you trying to fall on your face?" she asks, her mouth twitchin' at the corners.

"I ain't the one with two left feet," he scoffs as he stomps out onto the porch.

"Hey, my doctor said it's an honest medical condition," she retorts, and when he glances over, her face is contorted into a mock pout.

Her bottom lip quivers as she sticks it out, and all of Daryl's sarcastic remarks dissolve into nothin' as he finds himself wantin' to trap that lip between his teeth.

The sudden thought embarrasses him, and he starts walkin' without thinkin', without lookin', as he tries to outrun the urge. Of course, since he's on a damn porch, that ain't the best idea, and he misses the first step. Half a curse tumbles from his mouth as he pitches forward, but before he can actually faceplant, a hand wraps around his elbow and tugs him back.

He looks up to find Audrey fightin' back a smile, but her eyes are still impossibly smug.

"Shut up," he grumbles as he shrugs off her arm and continues down the stairs.

She giggles behind him, the sound raisin' goosebumps on his skin, but he ignores it as he starts marchin' across the yard toward camp. Audrey catches up to him a few steps later, but he notices she has to half-hop to keep up with his longer strides, so he consciously slows his pace until she can walk comfortably next to him.

It's quiet as they make their way to camp. It's fuckin' hot, too, the sun beatin' down mercilessly even though it's only nine in the goddamn mornin'. Sweat is already slidin' down his face, stingin' against the cut on his temple, and he squints against the bright glare as a dull headache starts throbbin' behind his eyes.

"You know," Audrey breaks the silence, and when the hunter looks over at her, she's using her free hand to shield her equally squinted eyes. "The next time someone goes on a run, we should put sunglasses on the list. I used to have so many cheap pairs scattered around my bedroom. Can't believe I didn't grab one of them. Now, it feels like I'm burning my retinas every damn day."

Daryl's had the same thought before, especially since he started ridin' Merle's bike around and gettin' dirt kicked up in his face. He usually just pushes through the discomfort, but now he's thinkin' he should go out and scavenge when he has the chance. There have to be a few pairs back in the traffic snarl on the highway.

He would say he's just bein' practical, but he knows he also wants to see Audrey wearin' another one of his gifts.

Unwillingly, he pictures her sittin' on the bike, with the green bandana coverin' her short hair and a pair of dark glasses perched on her nose, and his feet tangle in the long grass, trippin' over his loose laces.

"Sonva—" he curses, barely catchin' himself, and a familiar laugh tickles his ears.

"Alright, Dixon," Audrey chuckles as she slides in front of him. "It seems left-foot-itis is contagious, so stop being stubborn and gimme your foot."

She puts all her weight onto her left leg, her hip juttin' out distractingly, and her right leg bends until just the toe of the medical boot is touchin' the ground. She pats the skin of her thigh and looks up at him, and he scowls, a reflexive response.

"I ain't fuckin' five, don't need ya to tie my shoes." He tries to step past her, but she puts her hand on the front of his shoulder.

She doesn't push, there ain't even any pressure behind her fingers, but he stops all the same.

"You do if you don't want to break your two front teeth," she counters with narrowed eyes. "Come on. It'll take me five seconds."

"'M just gonna take 'em off when I get to the tent," he argues, tryin' to ignore how her hand is still restin' against his chest.

"Then I'll make the knots loose so you can toe them off." She's got that stubborn fuckin' lift to her jaw, and Daryl knows there ain't no winnin' against her when she's like this, but he tries anyway.

"Yer gonna fuck up your wrist again." His eyes drop to her splinted arm, and he suddenly remembers how she hauled him around in the bathroom yesterday. That must have hurt, and he feels a flash of guilt but tries to cover it up with a gruff question. "Where'd yer sling go anyway?"

"I took it off so I could stretch my arm a bit," she answers. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll put it back on. But only if you let me tie your boots."

Daryl's lips thin, and Audrey's twitch, like she knows she has him. He considers stalkin' past her just to win, but then her hand slips against his shoulder, slidin' down until her thumb brushes the bare skin between the undone buttons of his shirt.

Static immediately fills his brain, and it rushes out to the rest of his body when she takes a half-step back and pats her thigh again. The light sound of skin-on-skin is like the sound of a startin' gun. He jolts but quickly tries to mask it by pickin' up his left leg. Even that small motion makes his side burn, but he grits his teeth and bears it.

"Fine." He scowls again as he lightly sets his boot above her knee, swayin' to keep his balance, and Audrey grins in victory.

She doesn't gloat, though. She just grabs the laces and starts tyin'. She uses her left hand for the most part, the right just keepin' things in place, but within seconds she's finished, and she pats the top of his muddy boot.

"Okay, other leg," she says, and he obeys wordlessly.

She ties the second boot even quicker, her movements fast and efficient, and Daryl can't help commentin'.

"What, ya some kinda boot tyin' professional?" he scoffs as she tucks the laces into the side of his shoe.

"Yeah, I got my degree and everything," Audrey jokes, tappin' his ankle to signal she's done. "Actually… I've just had a lot of practice. Couple years ago, my little brother wanted to be a big boy and have laces instead of Velcro. But he could never figure out how to tie them, so I always had to make sure he didn't fall on his face."

Daryl blinks as his leg drops back to the ground, his face goin' slack with surprise. "…Didn't know ya had a brother."

"Mmhmm. And a sister." She looks up now, and her green eyes are sad and duller than they've been all mornin'. But she covers it up with a strained smirk, dustin' off the dirt he'd left on her thigh. "Like I said last night, there's a lot you don't know about me, Dixon. But we can play twenty questions later. I'm starving."

She turns back in the direction of camp and starts hobblin' forward, and after a moment, Daryl trails after her, his boots now snug and secure on his feet. As they limp side by side, he can't help lookin' at her from the corner of his eye, his mind goin' over the pieces of her past that have slowly been revealed to him.

If her bio parents died when she was young, and she spent five years with that fuckin' monster who gave her the scars, then he thinks the siblings she referred to musta come after. Probably when she lived with the redhead from the picture she'd shown him at the CDC. Audrey called that woman 'Mom,' and not for the first time, Daryl wonders what happened to her family. What happened to the younger brother who didn't know how to tie his shoes?

He's pretty sure he knows, and he feels his heart twist. Subconsciously, he moves closer to her, until their shoulders brush. Audrey looks over at him with a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes, but she leans into the scant touch, and somethin' flutters in his chest.

Then her pace slows a little, and she frowns past him, off to the right.

"What?" he asks, followin' her line of sight.

He spots movement under a small stand of trees between camp and the farmhouse. Squintin', he realizes it's Glenn, talkin' to the farmer's older daughter. They seem to be arguin', based on their tense body language, and after a moment, the girl shoves a basket into his chest before stalkin' away, back up to the house.

"Well, that didn't look good," Audrey mutters, and he turns back to her and sees her frown has deepened. "I'll probably need to go talk to him about that."

An uncomfortable feelin' squirms through the hunter's chest, and it takes him a moment to recognize it as jealousy. He knows it's irrational, since Audrey was literally fuckin' kissin' him not ten minutes ago, but he remembers how the younger Asian man used to follow her around the quarry, lookin' like a love sick puppy.

Daryl knows he ain't much better at this point but shoves the thought away.

"Ya gonna go do that now?" he asks and tries to sound disinterested when he's really the opposite.

"Hm?" Those green eyes click back to him, but then she shakes her head. "Oh, no, I'll catch him later. My stomach feels like it's about to eat itself."

She lays a hand flat on her belly, and Daryl stares at it for a beat too long before he quickens his pace.

"Then come on," he grunts over his shoulder. "Cuz I ain't carryin' ya if ya pass out."

"You could just say you're hungry, too," she teases as she catches up to him, but before he can reply, they finally reach the edge of camp, and a voice cuts through the early mornin' air.

"Daryl!"

Goddamnit. This is the last thing he wants, and the hunter grinds his teeth as Rick approaches them with a smile.

"Good to see you back on your feet," the former sheriff says, lookin' him over. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I could run a fuckin' marathon," Daryl grumbles sarcastically. "Whatcha want?"

"Well, I was hoping to steal you for a minute. Some of us are goin' out again to look for Sophia, and I just wanted to double check with you about where you found that doll."

Daryl chews on the inside of his cheek as he considers the question, and for some reason his eyes slide to Audrey to gauge what she's thinkin'. Rick follows his gaze, and his blue eyes narrow a fraction, assessin' in a way that makes the hunter's skin prickle.

"It would only be for a moment," the sheriff adds before he turns to Audrey with a faint smile. "Promise not to keep him too long."

What the fuck was that s'pposed to mean?

Audrey also seemed to clock the weird phrasin', cuz a faint flush crawls over her cheeks as she clears her throat. "Alright, just don't let him pick up anything. Or bend over. He's been trying to pop his stitches all morning."

Daryl scowls, retort on the tip of his tongue, but it withers when she cuts him a bright smile, the sun hittin' her face in such a way that he feels momentarily breathless.

"I'm gonna go scrounge us up some breakfast," she tells him, and he wishes she wouldn't, cuz Rick is still glancin' between the two of them with those goddamn calculatin' eyes.

"Fine, whatever," he mumbles before facin' the sheriff. "Ya got that map or what?"

"Yeah… yeah, it's just over there," Rick says as he gestures toward the car parked beside the RV.

Daryl starts marchin' in that direction, but he falters when another voice rings through the air.

"Audrey!"

The hunter turns and watches as Grimes' boy comes barrelin' through camp. His gait is stilted and uneven, his hand pressed to the side where he was shot, and Daryl's own wound twinges in sympathy. But the boy doesn't let that stop him from runnin' to Audrey's side, the sheriff's hat nearly fallin' off his head in the process.

"Carl!" The boy's mom hurries after him, her voice sharp with worry. "I told you, no running!"

"Sorry, Mom," he says over his shoulder in a not-so-sorry voice, but he faces Audrey with a wide grin. "Hey!"

"Hey there, Carl," she chuckles, reachin' out to flick the rim of his hat. "I'm guessing Herschel gave you the all clear?"

"Yup!" He bobs his head in a nod.

"No," Lori corrects as she finally reaches them and frowns down at her son. "He said you could start walking around. Not running. You'll pop open your stitches."

"No, I won't," the boy argues sullenly. "It was just for a second, I'm fine."

"Hmm, that sounds strangely familiar," Audrey muses, tappin' a finger against her chin.

Then those green eyes suddenly land on him, and Daryl realizes he's just been standin' there, watchin' them like an idiot. His faces burns as he whirls away, and he hears Rick tell the boy to listen to his mother before the sheriff's footsteps jog after him.

T-Dog, Shane, and Andrea are crowded around the map spread over the car hood, and they all look surprised to see him when he marches up. The blonde looks guilty, too, and like she wants to say somethin' that Daryl probably doesn't want to hear, but before she can, Rick starts talkin' 'bout the day's plan.

To be honest, the hunter is barely listenin'. The ache in his head and side is gettin' worse, and the sun is equally stabbin' into his eyes and burnin' the back of his neck. He crosses his arms over his chest, careful of his wound, and leans against the side of the car as the sheriff blathers on and on.

Tryin' not to get frustrated that Rick hasn't even asked him a damn question yet, Daryl lets his eyes wander around camp.

Unsurprisingly, they find Audrey like they're magnetized, and he watches her talk to Carl near the firepit. She's smilin' down at the boy while he yaps up at her, and Daryl thinks, Just like his damn daddy. Audrey doesn't seem to mind it, though. Her smile ain't forced, not like it was with the blonde girl earlier, and she even laughs at somethin', throwin' back her head and flashin' the pale column of her throat.

Out of nowhere, Daryl wonders if the skin there is as soft as her lips, and that thought, coupled with Rick slidin' into his line of view, nearly makes him jump the fuck outta his skin.

"Daryl, did you hear me?" the sheriff asks, in a tone that makes it seem like he's asked this question more than once already.

"That concussion still givin' ya problems, Dixon?" Shane adds from across the car hood, his tone mockin'. Then he shoots a quick glance over his shoulder, and his eyebrows raise under the brim of his police cap. "Or are you… distracted by something?"

The cop's tone is knowin', in a way that Daryl immediately doesn't like, and he feels himself bristle.

"Ya ever been shot in the head, Walsh?" he sneers. "I can rectify that for ya, and we can see how you feel, huh?"

Andrea flinches in his peripherals, but Shane just smirks. It's not a nice expression, and Daryl can see a darkness flash in the cop's already dark eyes.

Walsh has always been a dick, but somethin' happened to him when he went on that run with the dead guy. Otis. He seems more on edge now. Unhinged. Daryl knows the bullshit story Shane spun was just that, bullshit, but he ain't about to call the bastard out on it. He's a hero cop, and Daryl's just redneck trailer trash. He knows who people will believe.

"Alright, alright," Rick intervenes as he raises a hand, and his blue gaze settles on Daryl. "I just need you to point out where you found the doll again. And any tips or warnings about the area would be greatly appreciated."

Daryl fights the urge to roll his eyes and shifts so he's leanin' over the map. It takes him a moment to orient himself, and then he drags his finger over the path he took yesterday, pointin' out where he found the doll and also where he fell.

"Ridge gets fuckin' steep here, so if ya climb up, watch yer damn step," he finishes. "Ran into a few geeks around there, too. There ain't many in the woods that I saw, but don't get caught with yer pants around yer ankles."

"I'll be sure to keep my pants on," Rick says with some amusement. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, try not to die," Daryl scoffs, shovin' away from the car, and he throws one last comment over his shoulder as he leaves. "The woods are fuckin' cursed."

His side throbs in agreement, and as he marches across camp, he realizes he feels tired already. The headache behind his eyes is growin, too, and his stomach growls, needin' food. He thinks he has some snacks at the bottom of his bag, but then again, Audrey said she was going to go find some breakfast earlier. And she had specifically said us, which included him, right?

He looks for her near the firepit, but she's gone, as is Grimes' boy. He does a quick scan of the rest of camp but still doesn't see her, so he decides to just continue on to his tent, hopin' to find her there. He passes Carol on the way, and she gives him a small, hesitant smile. He nods back at her, feelin' uncomfortable cuz he also remembers her words from the night before. But she thankfully doesn't stop him, so he continues on to his tent.

When he reaches it, the flap is pinned back, and he can see movement inside. A knot of tension slowly unhitches in his chest, but as he draws closer, he hears a muttered curse and sees a flash of bare skin.

It takes a minute for his brain to compute what he's seein', but then he stumbles as he realizes Audrey is changin' with the fuckin' door wide open. Or flap. What-the-fuck-ever.

Heat rockets into his face, makin' him lightheaded, and he immediately averts his gaze. It lands on his crossbow, which is laid out across the camping stool, and he is grateful for the distraction. The bow is fuckin' filthy, though, caked in mud with grass stuck in the hinges.

Daryl sucks his teeth as he walks over to the weapon. He's still mildly impressed that he was able to drag it back to the farm after nearly dyin' yesterday, but it's gonna be such a bitch to clean.

"Hey!" a voice snaps just as he reaches for the crossbow, and he looks up to find Audrey duckin' out of the tent, her green eyes narrowed. "What did I say about picking things up?"

He distantly notes that she's changed into jean cut-offs and a gray tank top. And that green bandana is wrapped around her head again, pullin' her dark hair out of her face. The word pretty echoes through his mind, but he pushes it away as he tries to focus on the conversation.

"It's my goddamn bow," he argues.

"Not today it isn't," she quips, grabbin' the crossbow before he can stop her. She seems surprised by the weight but compensates quickly, cradlin' it against her ribs with the business end pointed away from either of them. "I'm confiscating this for at least the next twenty-four hours. It's for your own good, Dixon."

"Ya can barely lift the damn thing," he scoffs, reachin' for her, but she dances back and nearly trips into the tent. "Give it here, 'fore ya fuckin' hurt yerself."

"No." She stubbornly turns her back to him and retreats into the tent.

He starts to follow her until she abruptly bends over in the middle of the small space, and now he's the one trippin' again.

An embarrassed, choked noise gets lodged in his throat as the shorts ride up the backs of her thighs, basically cuppin' the cheeks of her ass, and he doesn't even realize she was shovin' his bow under her cot until she pops back up and turns around empty-handed.

"Too slow," Audrey teases, but Daryl doesn't miss the barely suppressed wince as she presses her right arm against her side.

He latches onto that so he can't think 'bout... other things.

"Damn it, kid, didn't I say ya were gonna hurt yerself?" he growls, the nickname he's been tryin' not to use comin' out in a flare of anger. He takes a step closer to her, and since the tent ain't that big, they're standin' chest to chest now.

"It's fine, just a little twinge," she tries to argue, but he ain't listenin', his eyes scannin' over her and then her side of the tent.

"Where's yer sling? Said ya were gonna put it on if I let ya tie my damn shoes."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that." She smiles sheepishly and takes a half step back, turnin' to her cot. It's covered in what looks like all of her clothes, the pile messy and haphazard. Her swords are also sittin' at the end of the bed, next to her pack, which she opens. Then she pulls out the sling, and when Daryl snatches it from her, he realizes it's made out of an old bedsheet.

"Doc didn't have anythin' better than this?" he grumbles as he works to undo the knot.

"I'll be sure to file a complaint," Audrey jokes.

Daryl rolls his eyes but finally gets the sling undone, and he takes each end of the sheet, looks up, and then freezes. He hadn't really been thinkin' when he grabbed the sling from her, but now he's faced with the dilemma of gettin' the damn thing on. He knows how to do it, he's suffered through several broken arms himself, but to tie her arm up properly, he's basically gotta wrap his own arms around her.

The hunter struggles with the idea. On the one hand, part of him thinks she won't mind. She'd kissed him less than half an hour ago after all. But, on the other hand, she didn't really say much about it afterwards. Did she want it to be a regular thing, the kissin'? From what she said last night, it kinda sounded like she did, but Daryl doesn't fuckin' know. He's never been in a… relationship, if that's even what this is, so he doesn't knowwhat's appropriate, what's not.

"Daryl?"

He snaps out of it to find her frownin' at him, her head cocked to the side. He realizes he's been standin' there like an idiot again, and his face burns as he decides fuck it.

"Put yer arm against yer side," he instructs and steps even closer.

He hears her quick intake of breath as he looms over her, but she obeys his command, foldin' her arm and pressin' it against her ribcage. Daryl leans in and lays one end of the sling over her left shoulder, slidin' the sheet between her ribs and right arm. Slowly, so he doesn't jostle the hurt appendage, he wraps the sling up over her forearm and then flips the opposite end over her right shoulder so her arm is cradled in the sheet. He hesitates for just moment before the next part but doesn't give himself the time to overthink. Instead, he steps even closer, until her nose almost brushes his clavicle, and he wraps his arms around her head so he can tie the sling off behind her neck.

His fingers fumble more than he wants them to, and when he brushes Audrey's hair out of the way, she shudders, her breath fannin' over his chest. It makes goosebumps rise up along his skin, but he works through it, quickly cinchin' the knot.

"Not too tight?" he mutters as he adjusts the way the sheet lays against her nape.

"Nope," she whispers, and he can feel the word against his chest.

Daryl drops his arms and tries to take a step back, to put some space between them, but he doesn't get very far. A tug at his waist stops him, and he looks down to see Audrey has hooked a finger in one of his belt loops.

Lookin' up, he finds her smilin' tentatively, her face a light pink. There's a question in those green eyes, the same eyes that drop to his mouth a moment later, and another hot flash passes through his body.

Thoughtlessly, he leans back toward her, his own gaze fallin' to her parted lips…

"Dree?"

The voice makes them both jump nearly a foot in the air, but Audrey yanks on his belt loop to keep him from topplin' backwards. She flashes him an apologetic look when she finally releases him, and then her eyes click over his shoulder, lookin' outside the tent.

"Oh, hey, Glenn," she says with a strained smile, and as she slowly scoots around the hunter, her hand brushes against his in a way that seems deliberate. "What's up?"

Daryl turns once she's past him, and he watches her duck out of the tent. He can partially see Glenn beyond her, but he's shiftin' from side to side, out of the hunter's view. Somethin' about the nervous posture makes Daryl follow Audrey out of the tent, and Glenn's dark eyes bounce between the two of them.

"I, uh- C-Carol said you were looking for some breakfast," he stutters as he focuses on Audrey, and he hefts up the large basket he's cradlin' against his chest.

"Sweet, what's on the menu today?" She steps forward and cranes her neck to get a look in the basket.

"Our finest peaches. And jerky. Fresh from farm to table. O-Or, well, basket. Since we, uh, don't have a table." Glenn laughs.

The noise is high-pitched and gratin', and Daryl narrows his eyes, wonderin' what the hell is wrong with him.

Audrey must be thinkin' the same thing by the way her head tilts to the side, and she very slowly reaches into the basket.

"Rightttt," she drawls as she starts takin' some peaches, and the hunter can't see her face, but he can hear the suspicion in her voice. "Well, thanks for the delivery."

"Y-Yeah, of course, it's no problem," Glenn mumbles, his eyes dartin' around, refusin' to look at the girl in front of him. "That's me, the peach-a delivery man. Get it? Cuz I used to, uh, deliver pizzas…"

The joke falls so flat even the cicadas seem to shut up for a minute.

Audrey is silent as she stares at the man in front of her, and Daryl can feel the question comin'. Glenn must, too, because he suddenly clears his throat and takes a step back.

"Well, I, um, gotta go help Dale with the RV for a bit, so I'll see you lat—"

"Wait." She takes a step forward, and when Glenn finally darts a look at her, she lowers her voice, but Daryl can still hear it. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's fine, I'm fine, everything's… fine."

Daryl doesn't think he's ever met a worse liar. Audrey apparently ain't buyin' his shit either, cuz her spine straightens, and the hunter can just imagine the piercin' look she levels at the other man.

"Glenda," she says, a stern warnin' in her voice, and Glenn winces like he knows he's been caught.

"Look, we'll talk… later, okay?" He shoots a quick look at Daryl, his face goin' red, before his eyes go back to Audrey. "Just… try to get some rest today."

Before she can argue, he abruptly spins on heel and scurries off , weavin' in and out of the tents as he heads for the RV. Daryl watches until he reaches the firepit, and then his eyes go back to Audrey.

She's just standin' there starin' after Glenn, and when she doesn't move for a full thirty seconds, Daryl walks over to her. She doesn't seem to hear him, even though he's not tryna be quiet, and as he draws up on her right, he sees the worried frown etched across her features.

"Hey," he mutters, and she jumps a little, green eyes snappin' up to meet his.

Her frown eases, though Daryl can tell she's still worried. He fidgets, wonderin' if he should ask her 'bout it, if that's somethin' that comes along with the… the kissin', but she doesn't give him enough time to build up the courage.

"Oh, sorry." She exhales sharply and finally turns to face him, with several peaches cradled in her good arm and sheets of jerky in her fist. "Here ya go, breakfast, as promised. Take two. We both need the extra fuel."

Daryl blindly reaches for two of the four peaches, but Audrey suddenly clicks her tongue, shiftin' her arm away from him.

"Wait, take the two on the left."

"Why?" he asks with a frown.

"Because those two are bigger, and you have a hole punched through your side," she quips, raisin' an eyebrow at him in challenge.

The hunter rolls his eyes, and just to be a little shit, he takes a peach from each end of her arm, so he gets one of the big ones but also one of the smaller ones.

Audrey makes a displeased noise, tryin' to stop him, but both of her hands are unavailable to her. So, her body just ends up followin' his hand as it retreats, and his fingertips brush the swell of her breast, just above the neckline of her tank top.

Her skin is warm and slick with a thin sheen of sweat, and Daryl hears her breath catch along with his.

This time, he immediately moves back, away, and he can't help shootin' a panicked glance toward the middle of camp. No one's nearby, though, most people gathered around the RV or firepit. Still, Daryl feels tense, his skin itchin', and he turns and stalks back toward the tent without another word. As he reaches the entrance, he considers duckin' back inside, but at the last second, he plops down into the camping chair instead.

No reason to get peach juice all over his cot. That's just askin' for ants.

Daryl brings one of the warm fruits to his mouth, bitin' into the soft flesh. Sweet liquid runs down his chin, and he leans over the right armrest so it dribbles to the ground. In his peripherals, he can see Audrey hesitantly walkin' over to join him, and he feels equally embarrassed and guilty over his reaction a moment ago. It wasn't like he groped her, it was a damn accident.

His fingers— the ones that had brushed against her— clench around the peach, and he starts mentally goin' through the steps of skinnin' and cleanin' a deer so he doesn't go thinkin' about somethin' stupid.

Like how soft her skin felt just now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Audrey sit in the stool opposite his chair, and he kicks himself for takin' the better seat. But… he also doesn't think he could sit hunched over in the stool— his side is already throbbin'— and he feels equally stupid for the weakness.

Cursin' his multiple levels of stupidly, Daryl sullenly eats his peach, barely even tastin' the fruit. It's quiet for a minute, and finally he drums up the courage to look over at his silent companion.

He almost immediately wishes he hadn't.

The one good thing is Audrey ain't lookin' at him. She's too preoccupied with her own damn peach. It's half finished, and Daryl watches as she rotates it in her palm to find her next bite. Then her teeth sink into the skin with a dull snap, and she leans forward, quietly slurpin' up some of the juice while lettin' the rest drip down into the dirt.

The hunter is transfixed by her mouth, and a voice in the back of his head tells him to look away, but the memory of her voice drowns it out.

Well… maybe I don't mind you looking.

As if she can fuckin' hear his thoughts, green eyes flick up and lock with his, and Daryl's blood raises several degrees. Then a few degrees more when she swallows her bite and flashes him a small smile, her lips glistenin' with juice.

Her cheeks flush as he continues starin', but she doesn't look away, and neither does he.

Instead, he slowly takes another bite of his peach, and Audrey copies him, still holdin' his gaze. He feels juice dribblin' over his hand and watches as it simultaneously trails down her thin wrist and— fuck, is he gettin' hard right now?

Daryl finally drops his eyes, shiftin' to close his knees, and he hears her giggle softly as he tosses the remainder of the peach in his mouth. He rolls it around with his tongue before spittin' out the clean pit and tossin' it into the grass beyond the tent.

The second peach wobbles in his lap from the motion, and he considers eatin' it, too, but decides to save it for later, droppin' it into the cup holder on the chair.

"Want some jerky?"

He reluctantly looks up at the muffled question and catches Audrey's throb bob distractingly as she swallows the last of her peach. Her second one is balanced on her knees, and her arm is extended toward him, offerin' a sheet of jerky.

The hunter starts to reach for it but realizes his hands are still sticky, as is his beard, and he feels slightly ridiculous, like a messy child. Quickly, he drags his hand over his jeans and then takes the jerky from her, tryin' to ignore how her own sticky fingertips catch against his.

He mutters a low 'thanks' and settles back in the chair, tearin' at the dried meat with his teeth.

"There's also a full canteen beside the chair," Audrey says as she picks up another bottle beside her stool. She takes a small swig and then pours some water into her cupped hand, splashin' her face to wash off the peach remnants.

Daryl quickly does the same, feelin' embarrassed again, and while his fingers scrub through the hairs around his mouth, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He darts a quick look to his side, finds green eyes trained on him. Not on his face, though. They're trackin' the droplets of water that are skatin' down his neck and into the open collar of his shirt, and now the hunter feels warm for a different reason.

He also thinks that he don't mind her lookin', either.

Eventually, Audrey drops her gaze to the jerky in her lap, and they both nibble on the dried meat in silence. Daryl only gets through half of it before the throbbin' behind his eyes becomes too difficult to ignore. He shoves the rest of his jerky into the cup folder beside the peach, and then he presses his fingers to his brow, tryin' to rub the pain away.

"You okay?" Audrey asks, and when he squints over at her, she's frownin'.

"Just a headache," he grumbles, rubbin' at his eyes now.

"Concussions can cause light sensitivity, right? Why don't you go lay down in the tent for a while? You should also take some meds now that you've eaten."

Daryl has a sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue, somethin' about not needin' to be coddled, but when he opens his eyes, the concern in her face draws him up short.

Again, he feels that weird twisty sensation in his chest over the fact that she's worried about him, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He squirms, tryin' to come up with a response, and he says the first thing that pops into his mind.

"What're ya gonna do?" he asks, then digs his nails into his palm.

Fuck. He doesn't want to come off as weirdly clingy, but he also doesn't want her to leave.

But she spent half of yesterday starin' at his sleepin' ass, so she probably doesn't wanna waste more time doin' the same damn thing.

"Oh." Audrey blinks and seems surprised by his question, and then a dustin' of pink covers her cheeks. "Well, I, um, was gonna fold some laundry on my cot, keep you company. B-But if you want to just be alone and take a nap, that's fine, too! I can make myself scarce."

Daryl almost immediately blurts out his response, but he manages to wait a few seconds.

"Wouldn't mind the company," he mutters and feels his cheeks get hot, but it's worth it for the radiant smile she gives him.

"Okay then," she breathes, lookin' happier than she should. Like it's a reward to spend time in his presence.

Daryl can't stop his own lips from turnin' up at the corners, but the moment is kinda ruined by a sharp pain stabbin' him behind his right eye. He hisses quietly and ducks his head, squintin', and he hears Audrey get out of her chair before her boots appear next to his.

"Come on, Dixon," she says as she bends down and takes the fist he's balled up on his thigh.

Audrey's fingers coax his open as she tugs him up onto his feet. To his disappointment, she quickly lets go, but she smiles again as she motions for him to go into the tent. He obeys, hearin' her follow, but he pauses a few feet inside.

"The hell's all this?" He frowns and gestures to his bed.

He hadn't noticed earlier— he'd been preoccupied with other shit— but his cot's been made up. There are two or three pillows he doesn't recognize at the head of the bed, and the cot itself is plied with several layers of sheets and blankets. The whole thing resembles a nest, and he's… confused.

"Oh, uh… While you were talking to Rick, I asked Carol to grab some of the extra sheets and stuff from the RV," Audrey replies as she slides around him and goes to sit on the edge of her own cot. The look she casts him is timid, hesitant. "I just thought… they might make you more comfortable while you're recovering. It's not as good as the bed from last night, but I hope it's okay?"

Once again, Daryl feels unbalanced by her consideration, her concern, but a warm, pleased feelin' curls up in the bottom of his gut.

"S'fine," he grunts, and even though he can probably count on one hand how many times he's ever said his next words, they come surprisingly easy. "Thank ya."

"You're welcome." Audrey grins up at him, lookin' pleased herself, and the hunter is seized by the sudden urge to kiss her again.

Fuck. Is that gonna be a regular thing now?

Daryl shakes the thought from his head, which makes it pound particularly hard, and he realizes he needs to lie down. Toein' off his boots, he kicks them under his cot before he collapses onto it. The plush paddin' of the blankets is unfamiliar, and he has to squirm around for a minute to get situated. But, eventually, his sore body relaxes into the nest with a quiet sigh.

"Feel good?"

He looks over to find Audrey still smilin' at him, but it's softer, her green eyes warm as they trail over his face.

"Feels like I'm sleepin' on a cloud," he scoffs, tuckin' his left hand behind his head. It's only half a joke.

"Well, then, let's get you floating properly," she laughs, and then she gets up, walks over to the foot of his cot, and pulls out Merle's stash.

Daryl expects her to stand there as she digs for the meds, or maybe go back to sit on her own cot, but she does neither. Instead, she dips outside and grabs his canteen from beside the camping chair, and when she comes back in, she passes him the bottle and sits on the edge of his cot, next to his hip.

And his right hand.

The warmth of her thigh is a hair's breadth away from his fingers, and he clenches the canteen, tryin' to keep himself still.

"Okay," Audrey says, which drags his attention back to her face. Her brow is furrowed in concentration as she starts riflin' through the drug bag. "So, we need those yellow ones, and then that orange bottle with white ovals…"

He watches her search for a moment before she makes a triumphant noise and fishes out the antibiotics. She pops the bottle open with her thumb and shakes out a single pill, holdin' it out to him.

Daryl lifts his hand to take it from her, leavin' the canteen upright on the cot, and his knuckles accidentally drag over the skin of her thigh. Her leg twitches, as does her face, but she just refocuses on the stash bag, so Daryl pops the pill into his mouth and washes it down with a gulp of warm water.

"Where are you sons of bitches?" she huffs after another minute of searchin', and she starts to bring the bag up to her face.

"Ya don't wanna be huffin' too close to that." Daryl catches the edge of the bag and tugs it back down into her lap.

There are some much harder drugs mixed in there, and he should probably dump them, but who knows. They might come in handy one day if he needed to trade with some resource-rich addicts.

Doesn't mean he wants Audrey accidentally dosin' herself, though.

"Oh, right. Sorry." She blushes. "I was just trying to find the pain pills, but they're eluding me."

Daryl drops his eyes to the bag, squintin' through the scuffed up plastic. After a moment, he spots somethin' he forgot was in there, and he points at it.

"Gimme that bottle, the white one with the red top."

"This one?" she asks as she pulls it out. She frowns down at the unlabeled bottle and hesitantly hands it to him. "What's in it?"

"Tylenol." He pops open the cap, dumpin' two pills on his chest before closin' the bottle and tossin' it back to her.

"Come on. Seriously." She rolls her eyes as she drops the bottle back into the bag.

"'M serious," he mumbles around the pills in his mouth and takes another swig from his canteen. Everythin' goes down smoothly, and he leans over to set the closed canteen on the floor.

When he looks back up, Audrey is still starin' at him with a skeptical frown, but he just raises his eyebrows at her and tucks his left hand behind his head again.

"Wait, really?" she finally asks, surprise flickerin' across her face.

"Yes, really," he drawls. "What, ya think it was meth?"

"Does meth come in pill form?" Her expression and tone are so innocent that Daryl can't help snortin', and she blushes again. "Shut up. I don't know, alright? The hardest thing I've ever done is split a joint, and I nearly coughed up a lung. My mom thought I'd been crying when I came home with blood-red eyes."

Now, Daryl is really laughin', and even though her face is still flushed with embarrassment, she ends up smilin' as she listens to him.

That smile alone is worth the pain twingin' through his side.

"Okay, well, will the Tylenol be enough for you, or should I excavate one of the real pain pills, too?" she asks when he's finally calmed down, and she shakes the stash bag for emphasis.

Daryl considers the question for a moment but ultimately shakes his head. "Nah, 'm good. Side don't hurt much lyin' down. Tylenol should take care of the headache."

"You sure?" She purses her lips, her eyes goin' to his temple, then his middle.

"Told ya to quit makin' that face before gets it gets stuck like that." He lifts his right hand to flick her in the forehead, in the middle of that crease she gets, but she pulls out of his reach.

"Fine, fine," she chuckles, and she closes up the stash bag as well as she can, since the top is ripped open. "Sorry for caring about you."

Her tone is teasin', as is the glint in her green eyes, but the words strike Daryl low in the chest. She cares about him. Even though she said it like a joke, he knows it's the truth, keeps seein' it in the way she looks at him, in every little smile she sends his way.

He slowly drops his hand back to his side, feels it fall between her thigh and his. Again, his knuckles brush over her skin, but this time he doesn't pull away, lettin' the contact linger. His eyes find hers, and there's a hint of insecurity in her emerald irises, like she's worried she said the wrong thing.

Like everythin' she did didn't make him wanna kiss her again.

"Didn't ask for an apology," Daryl mutters, echoin' his words from last night.

Then, with a burst of confidence, he intentionally strokes the back of his finger against the outside of her thigh.

The hunter hears her quick inhale, sees the flutter in the hollow of her neck. Her pupils dilate as she stares down at him, and her gaze very clearly goes to his mouth. Daryl swallows, feelin' electricity zing just beneath his skin, and he drags his finger over her thigh again, just to see her twitch. Just cuz he can.

Fuck. Yeah… this is gonna be a regular thing. And it just might kill him.

But there are definitely worse ways to go.

Daryl strokes his finger across her skin for a third time, and Audrey slowly starts to lean down toward him, those green eyes trained on his mouth. But, of course, she doesn't make it far before another voice cuts through the silence.

"Hey, uh, Daryl?"

The hunter immediately closes his eyes, exhalin' harshly through his nose as he grinds his teeth. Back at the quarry, he went fuckin' days without talkin' to most people, and now they keep flockin' to him like flies.

And at the worst goddamn times, too.

"What?" he snaps and opens his eyes again.

To his immense disappointment— but also relief— Audrey shifts back so she's sittin' closer to the foot of the cot, and as she moves, Daryl can see Andrea hesitatin' in the open 'doorway' of the tent.

"Can I… come in?" the blonde asks as she ducks her head, findin' his eyes.

Daryl wants to be honest and say no, but when Audrey looks back at him, her expression surprised and curious, he finds himself relentin'.

"Yeah, fine, whatever," he mumbles, shiftin' on the cot to get more comfortable.

His shin brushes Audrey's lower back as she turns to face the middle of the tent, and he almost moves again until she leans back into the pressure.

For half a moment, he worries if even that amount of contact is inappropriate in front of other people, but his attention gets diverted to Andrea as she slowly enters the tent. Her blue eyes jump between him and Audrey, and he tenses, wonderin' what she might have seen or heard, but there's nothin' but guilt on her face.

She stands there hunched for a second, shootin' another look at Audrey, before she tentatively walks forward and holds out her hand.

"This is not that great…" she says as she passes Daryl a book, and his eyes skip over the title: The Case of the Missing Man. "But I thought you could use something to fight the boredom while you're recovering."

Daryl is surprised by the offer, but he covers it up by flippin' through the worn novel, the pages flutterin' through his fingers.

"What, no pictures?" he asks sarcastically.

Andrea's lips twitch, but they quickly pull down into a frown, that guilt risin' in her blue eyes again. She very timidly perches on the edge of Audrey's cot so she can look at him more directly, and he listens to her take a deep breath.

"I'm so sorry," she blurts out, and her gaze flicks to his temple. "I feel like shit about… what happened."

"Yeah, you and me both." He drops the book on his chest, deflectin' again cuz people don't usually apologize for hurtin' him.

Audrey is silent at his feet, but he feels her subtly lean back into his leg. Daryl doesn't know if she's tryin' to reprimand him for the statement or be supportive, but he mindlessly returns the pressure, his knee skimmin' the outside of her hip.

Thankfully, Andrea doesn't seem to notice, and her blue eyes find his as she clasps her hands between her knees.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," she starts, her voice thick. "But if there's anything I can do…"

Daryl fights the urge to fidget, uncomfortable with the genuine remorse oozin' out of the blonde. Honestly, he ain't even really mad at her. Yeah, gettin' shot in the head sucked, but he's still alive, which is better than what most people could say. As far as he's concerned, it's water under the bridge already, so he decides to tell her that.

"Ya were just tryin' to protect the group," he mutters, the fingers of his right hand pickin' at the warm spot in the blanket where Audrey had been sittin' a minute ago. "We're good."

The blonde blinks, lookin' shocked as her mouth falls open a little.

"That's… very kind of you, Dixon," she says, and for some reason, her eyes go to Audrey, who's still silently sittin' by his feet.

Daryl's skin itches as he recalls their conversation from several nights ago, when Andrea called him out for bein' soft on and around the kid, and he feels the need to save some face.

"Yeah, I'm Mother fuckin' Theresa," he grunts, narrowin' his eyes. "But ya shoot me again, you'd best pray I'm dead."

He's tryin' to come off as threatenin', but Andrea actually huffs a quiet laugh as she stands up.

"Duly noted. Get some rest, Dixon." She smirks and starts to turn toward the tent entrance, but she doesn't make it far before Audrey suddenly clears her throat.

"Hey, Andrea?" she says, and when Daryl looks over at her, he sees her face is pink and pinched, like she's embarrassed.

"Yeah?" The blonde pauses.

Audrey squirms a little, pressin' back into his leg again. "I… also wanted to apologize to you. About yesterday."

"You don't have to." Andrea quickly shakes her head. "You were right. I was just trying to stroke my own ego. Honestly, I was being a bitch again."

Audrey's lips tick as she obviously tries to bite back a smirk. "Maybe a little. But… I still shouldn't have drawn my sword on you. For that, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, really. I… understand why you did it." Blue eyes jump to Daryl for a moment, and he scowls, but Andrea just looks back to Audrey. "Let's just call it even, huh?"

"I can do that." Audrey nods, and her face is even redder now, like she'd caught the look the blonde threw him.

"Good." A faint smile flickers over Andrea's mouth before she snaps her fingers. "Oh, by the way, Rick and Shane are going to take some of us out for a quick gun training lesson. You wanna join?"

Daryl involuntarily tenses at the prospect of Audrey leavin', and he can feel her grow equally stiff against his leg.

"Oh…" she says, and her eyes click to him before goin' back to Andrea. "I would, but I don't think I'd be able to properly hold a gun right now, let alone shoot it."

She nods at her right arm in the sling, then lifts her left hand, flashin' the rope burn scabs on her palm and fingers.

"Right, forgot about that." The blonde winces in sympathy. "Well, you get some rest today, too. I think Lori and Dale are staying behind, so if you need anything, just give them a shout."

"I will," Audrey says, but Daryl knows she's lyin'.

Andrea just nods, though, wavin' at them both before she finally ducks out of the tent.

It's silent for a moment, and then Audrey turns back to him with a curious glint in her eyes.

"Do you know how to shoot a gun?" she asks out of the blue.

The question takes Daryl by surprise, but when he finally registers it, he stares at her with a flat expression until she blushes.

"Sorry, that was a dumb question," she chuckles nervously. "I just… never really saw one up close until the world ended. I feel more comfortable with my swords, obviously, but I should probably learn to shoot at some point, right? Can't be too careful."

Daryl studies her for a moment as an idea comes to him, and after only a moment of hesitation, he says it out loud.

"I can teach ya. If ya want."

"Really?" An excited smile blooms across her face as she scoots closer to him again, which makes that thing in his chest preen like a peacock.

"Yeah." He tries not to sound too eager, but that smile of hers is near infectious. "Ain't that hard. We can add it to the trackin' lessons. If ya think yer city ass can handle it."

"I've already had raw squirrel meat thrown in my face, I think I'll be fine," she deadpans, but her fake angry expression almost immediately melts back into a smile. "Thanks, Daryl."

He's about to dismiss her gratitude, his skin feelin' hot under that thousand watt smile, but he's cut off when Audrey suddenly leans forward and presses her mouth against his.

It's a quick kiss, chaste. She's already moving back by the time he realizes what's happenin'. Still, Daryl's head is spinnin' as their gazes meet, and he notices how flushed is she beneath the fadin' bruises.

"Well, I should see to my laundry, let you get some rest," she murmurs. "But if you need anything, let me know."

Daryl can't get his tongue to work, so he just nods. She flashes him another smile, and her eyes drop to his mouth again before she suddenly stands up and hobbles back over to her own cot. As he watches, she picks up her pack and swords, settin' them on the floor near the tent entrance. Then she shoves her clothes into an even larger pile at the foot of the bed before she sits up near her pillow, with one leg folded beneath her and the other planted on the floor.

The hunter finds himself starin' at where the hem of her shorts digs into the meat of her thigh, but he quickly turns his face toward the ceiling.

Before his own pants end up gettin' too tight.

It's quiet it for a while, just the muted sounds of Audrey breathin' and foldin' her laundry. Daryl feels restless, though. Like he should fill the silence, which is somethin' he's never experienced before. Usually, she's the one nervously chatterin', and if she was anyone else, it would grate on his nerves. If he's around people, he typically preferred they not talk. They were either gonna say somethin' stupid, hateful, or meaningless, and each category pissed him off to some degree.

But… he realizes that he wants to listen to Audrey talk. About nothin'. 'Bout everythin'. He wants to discover all the things she said he didn't know about her. He wants to know her fuckin' favorite color, her favorite food. He wants to hear her read more of those poems and learn about the people in the photos, tucked at the back of her journal. Hell, he'd even listen to her talk 'bout the damn weather.

Problem is, he doesn't know how to ask about any of that shit. She was his first friend and now his first… whatever she is. He's got no experience, which he never cared about before, but now he feels out of his depth.

Could he just bring questions up out of the blue? Or does he have to lead into it somehow? And what would he even ask first? She might find it stupid if he asks her favorite goddamn color, like they're six years old. And it ain't like he could take her out to a restaurant for her favorite meal. Options are pretty limited in the apocalypse. He also doesn't think he should ask about her family right now, doesn't want to see her eyes go dull or fill with tears.

So, what can he say?

The hunter feels like his brain is gonna explode as it spins in circles, and he's so preoccupied that he almost jumps out of his skin when Audrey breaks the silence.

"Hey, Daryl?" she whispers. "You still awake?"

His eyes are closed, and he continues facin' the ceiling, hopin' she can't see how red his face is.

"Mm," he grunts.

"Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if I could… do some of your laundry for you?"

Daryl frowns and finally opens his eyes, turnin' his head to look at her. "What?"

Audrey looks a little shy perched on the edge of her cot. He notices that she's finished folding her clothes, which must be in her pack now since he doesn't see them anywhere. The only things left on the bed are the orange shirt and beige shorts she was wearing earlier.

"Well, I was probably going to wash Beth's clothes soon, so I can return them," she explains as she fidgets, kickin' her feet. "It feels like a waste of water to only wash two things, but my clothes are all taken care of. So, I thought I could maybe… throw some of your stuff in. I-I thought about it yesterday, when we were doing the communal washing, but I didn't want to go through your stuff without permission."

Daryl's frown only deepens, and he feels his skin prickle with embarrassment. "Ya sayin' I stink?"

"No!" Audrey snaps her head up, wide green eyes meetin' his. "That's… definitely not what I was trying to say. I was just thinking it would be hard for you to bend over and wash something with your wound. Not that you… stink. Which you don't! I actually like the way you—"

She physically cuts herself off, teeth diggin' into her lower lip, and her cheeks darken several degrees. Daryl's face feels equally warm, the half compliment makin' his belly flip, and his throat clicks as he swallows.

"S'fine. Don't gotta do that. I'll… wash 'em in a few days."

Audrey's brow furrows, and some of the embarrassment in her face is replaced by that familiar stubbornness. "I know I don't have to do anything. I just… wanted to do something nice for you. Like you bringing me these boots." She kicks out her left foot, the one wearin' the hiking boot. "They've been great, by the way. Haven't rolled my ankle once."

She flashes him a small smile, and the hunter feels that prideful tickle in his chest. He also stares at the stretch of her leg for a bit longer than he should.

"I'm already having to wash something anyway," Audrey adds before he can reply. "So it's not a big inconvenience if you're worried about that."

Daryl looks up at her hopeful face, and he presses his lips together. He still wants to refuse, so used to bitin' any hand that tried to feed him, but he forces himself to actually consider the offer.

If he's bein' honest, he hates doin' laundry. Hated it even before the world ended, and now that they're havin' to rough it out in the woods, he usually doesn't see the point. But… he thinks he should try to be better about it, now that someone has decided she wants to kiss him whenever she damn well-pleased. And sittin' hunched over a wash bucket would probably tear his stitches right now…

Still, the thought of bein' catered to doesn't sit right with him. If she did somethin' for him, he had to do somethin' for her. It's only fair.

But what could he do in return?

Idly, the hunter's eyes skip over Audrey, then drop to the swords propped up at the foot of the bed. He's seen her sharpen them before but can't remember the last time, which means they're probably due for some maintenance.

"Fine," he relents as he looks back at her. "But only if I can sharpen yer swords. They need it, don't they?"

"My swor— well, yeah, they could use some honing," she says with a frown. "But you don't have to—"

"I know I don't haveta," he parrots her earlier words, holdin' her gaze. "I wanna."

Audrey thinks about it for a moment and then smiles, and like always, the happy expression steals his breath. "Alright, you got yourself a deal, Dixon. But you have to rest a little longer first. And I will hear no arguments."

She points a finger at him in warning, and Daryl rolls his eyes.

"Back atcha, Bennett," he retorts and raises his eyebrows at her boot and sling. Then he picks up the book Andrea left him, lightly chuckin' it over so it lands beside Audrey on the other cot. "Gotta sit there for at least an hour 'fore ya go injure anythin' else."

Audrey sticks her tongue out at him, and Daryl thinks about bitin' it but is distracted from the thought when she grabs the book and swings her legs up onto the cot, sittin' back against the pillow.

"Fine, but I'm forcing you to listen to The Case of the Missing Man with me," she quips as she flips through the pages.

"On second thought, gimme one of those pain pills. Or maybe get Blondie to shoot me in the head again," he grumbles, fakin' his disapproval when really, a pleased satisfaction is buzzin' through his veins.

"You're lucky I don't have anything throwable within grabbing distance," Audrey huffs, but he can see the smile she's tryin' to hide as she lifts the book toward her face. "Now, hush. There are no interruptions in the theater."

She primly clears her throat before she starts readin' about some down-on-his-luck detective comin' out of retirement for one last case. At least, Daryl thinks that's what the story is about. He ain't really payin' attention.

He's too busy starin' at Audrey, watchin' the way her mouth moved as she formed the words. Watchin' how she subconsciously made expressions along with the characters. At one point, her brow furrows at somethin' confusin', and then later her lips stretch into a cocky smirk when the detective finds his first clue or whatever. Her voice is a soothin', constant sound, and against his will, Daryl feels his eyelids begin to droop.

Until the voice cuts out entirely, and he opens his eyes with a frown.

"Why d'ya stop?" he slurs, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

Audrey's figure is hazy on the opposite cot, but he can hear her laugh softly. "Because you're falling asleep. If you're tired, just take a nap."

"'M not tired," he argues as he squints over at her. "Keep goin'. 'M listenin'."

She laughs again but settles against her pillow, openin' the book back up. "Fine, where was I?"

"Detective's standin' in the rain," Daryl mumbles, even though his eyes are startin' to flutter again. "Thought he saw his wife, in the alley."

Audrey hums as she finds her place, and her soothin' voice picks up where it left off. The detective approaches the alley where he thought he saw his dead wife, and then…

Darkness.