Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This is my fill response to a prompt posted on LJ at the TWD_Kink Meme community:"Daryl – Side affects: Daryl has a weird reaction to pain killers/antibiotics. Maybe he's giggly, cuddly? Go wild nonnie." *Rated for: adult language, adult situations, light slash, and adorableness. *Spoilers from 2x05 to 2x07.
Authors Note #2: Please read and review. I am excited to see what you all think. I am open to comments, advice, and constructive criticism.
Pigs were flying. Somewhere. They had to be. – And probably currently being chased by roving hordes of salivating walkers from below to boot. It was the only way he could think of to explain his current reality. All other explanations simply paled in comparison. They couldn't even get close.
Flying freakin' bacon... – It had to be. Nothing else made sense otherwise.
Because really, how did one simply explain away the fact that Daryl freakin' Dixon had just come up behind him. All bare chested swagger, and jeans that hung too low across the span of his lean, muscle hewn hips. - A sloppy, criminally easy smile sliding across his too open features. As lazy, doped up blue eyes crinkled upwards just around the same time as calloused palms wrapped around him from behind. Curving around the arch of his narrow hips like they just belonged there?
– In short, you couldn't. You just couldn't.
"What did he give him?" He mouthed. Trying and utterly failing not look as desperate he felt as Daryl's lips dragged across the back of his head. Flicking off his hat with a surprisingly coordinated snap of his wrist as blunt fingers dug deep into the trailing hairs at the base of his skull. Sending aroused shivers down the length of his spine as the man's fingers pressed into the tense muscles of his shoulders. Making quiet, content little noises in the back of his throat before the man pressed his lips back into his hair again.
Christ. They were all doomed. - Fucking doomed….
Andrea just gave him a helpless little look that bordered somewhere between guilt and growing amusement as she fished the bottle Hershel had handed over close to an hour ago, out from the depths of her purse. Frantically twirling the label around in her hands, lips catching between her teeth as she sped read through the list of complex ingredients. At the same as he tried to remember exactly what the older man had said when he'd come down to update the group on Daryl's recovery.
It had been something about making sure the man slept through the night undisturbed, and remembering to make sure he took a second dose once he woke up. - With the older man muttering on under his breath about surly patients, wayward horses, and the problems of so called 'troubled youth' these days as he'd ambled towards the barn. The keys to the chicken coop barely visible in his tightly clenched fist.
Weird. Didn't they always feed the chickens in the morning?
Hershel of course, was predictably was no where to be seen. - He smelled a rat there. Was this pay back for Daryl putting up a fuss as the older man had stitched him up? Or an unhanded form insurance to make sure the man didn't end up doing something stupid. Like heading off to search for Sophia and ripping his side open all over again in the process.
Or maybe those pain killers were just stronger then Hershel had originally thought…
Andrea just shook the bottle at him helplessly. Affirming his fears that it was same bottle Daryl had tossed over from Merle's stash a few days earlier. The one, if he remembered correctly, that the man had coined as being: "some kick ass painkillers." - …Shit. - But even then he didn't quite miss the fact that while the blond woman still looked like guilt personified. He realized that even as he watched, her frown lines were noticeably lessening, tinged with growing amusement as her eyes followed Daryl's movements. Her grin only widening as Daryl leaned forward.
And before he knew it the man and his wandering hands were trailing back along his shoulders, using them as a platform as the hunter rested his head atop his bent forearm. Using his entire body like a crutch as the man rubbed his face into the crook of his neck, warm breaths gusting across his ear as Daryl shifted his hips across the curve of his spine. The movement surprisingly subtle and almost unnoticeable if you weren't looking for it, as the injured man made to speak.
It was the way the man said it that really did it, drawling out of syllables of his name until they became something absolutely obscene. All bedroom tones and that hot, fuck-me-sideways stare. Something that in itself melded strangely with the man's sleep mussed hair, with the odd tuft sticking up in at least five completely impossible angles. All skewed to the left side by the gauze wrapped bandage that stood out starkly around the man's dark haired head.
Coming from anyone else, the image would have been absolutely adorable. - And if he was being completely honest with himself, despite the threat of their imminent doom that was clearly building just beyond the horizon, he pretty much still did. Though he figured he was probably slightly biased on the subject anyway. - For god sakes, he'd somehow still managed to find the man ridiculously attractive as he'd staggered out of the woods just a few hours earlier.. A hot, injured mess of blood, muck, and god only knows what else, with that necklace of walker ears bouncing around his neck like the world's nastiest fashion accessory.
He was going to the special hell for even thinking about it…He just knew it.
He'd never seen Daryl like this. Not even in bed. There had been a few times where the man had opened up, having smiled and even laughed a bit. They were memories, moments that he'd hoarded jealously, cherishing them, as few and far between as they were, as evidence of their growing progress. Of slowly working through each others issues and hang ups together. - But those moments were nothing compared to this. Where the man was all honeyed slowness and softening edges. Breathing into his neck with unconsciously familiarity, all warms gusts of air and heavy lids.
Honestly, if the others hadn't been standing around watching, and if he wasn't almost ninety five percent sure that it was still illegal in over half the southern states, he would have been tempted to jump the man right then and there. - Because really. - This…this was almost too much. For god sakes the man was practically climbing his way up the length of him!
…But getting back to that whole imminent doom thing? - Yeah, let's address that for a moment shall we? - Because really. Holy fucking shit on a stick….
Because Daryl slumming around being adorable, body all lax, dopey, and giving him those bold, bedroom eyes stares were all fine and good. – Very fine and good actually… - All except for one tiny problem… The fact that they had an audience, a very large and unexpectedly attentive audience at that.
All they needed was Hershel's missing horse to show up and it'd be freaking family reunion.
He supposed the real crux of the matter was that they'd been trying to keep their whole relationship on the down low. Personally he wouldn't have minded much if they others knew, figuring that all the secrecy wasn't worth the hassle. Especially when the world had effectively ended and there was far more pressing shit for them to worry about then burgeoning sexual crisis's and other people's opinions on the matter. But he'd respected Daryl's desire not to call attention to it. With the older man muttering something about it being none of the others business or whatever.
And true to form he'd been stressing out about keeping the secret for weeks now. Ever since that night at the CDC when he'd finally summed up the nerve to knock on the man's door at close to four in the morning. Only half way sober and blushing with embarrassment as he nearly bowled the man over the moment the older man had yanked opened the door. Kissing him for all he was worth, nearly desperate to get his hands on the man before he chickened out completely. - Lucky for him the man had felt the exact same way. – But he supposed that story was neither here nor there. The point was that he found it almost deliciously ironic how it was actually Daryl himself that had unintentionally outed them both.
It was all going much better then expected if he was being honest. Utter embarrassment and complete lack of dignity aside of course. Because Lori just looked mostly distracted, eyes distant as she ran a hand down Rick's forearm. Smile tugging on the corners of her lips as Rick ducked his head, catching her gaze as a rare smile spread across his face, wrapping his arms around her shoulders like they were enjoying some sort of private joke.
– Wait. Had they known? The thought alone was almost too much to even consider. Daryl was going to have kittens just thinking about it.
Dale and T-Dog looked both bemused and confused in turn. But even then they were expressions that quickly morphed into small smiles, as if the both of them were simply enjoying the hilarity of the moment. – The sheer goodness of it. A moment where there was nothing more pressing to worry about then how they were all going to be able keep a straight face around Daryl the next day.
Carol, for her part, just looked remarkably self satisfied. With the sad downturn of her kind face seemingly banished, if only for the moment, watching the both of them with such open fondness that he couldn't find it in him regret even a single moment of the whole unintentional reveal. And call him crazy, but he was almost certain that Daryl would have grudgingly agreed with him. The man was all but putty when it came to Carol these days.
But naturally, since no party is complete without that drunk, overly rowdy asshole that breaks your mother's favorite lamp and ends up puking in someone's shoe. That was the moment where Shane decided to step up and make his…feelings known.
"Never seen painkillers do that before." Shane spat, tone just shy of scathing as his stance shifted. Moving up from his position just behind the others as he pointed his feet towards the porch steps, hands clenching into sudden fists as the sound of angry boot soles echoed across the surface the first step.
At first he was too busy attempting to save both their tattered dignities to notice the caliber of the man's words, distracted by yet another near miss as he caught Daryl's hands before they made another rather uncoordinated break for freedom down the length of his sides. Fingers curling under the hem of his shirt as the overly friendly appendages ventured south, worming their way dangerously close to his zipper before he panicked and lightly smacked the man's hands away.
- Daryl however was having none of it. His blunt fingers trickling back down the lengths of his sides as fast as he could pry any given digit free. Apparently oblivious to the fact that Andrea was nearly doubled over in front of them, fighting off silent giggles as Carol patted her back, a blindingly sweet smile gracing her features as she clearly basked in the moment herself.
Holy Jesus.. - Daryl was going to kill the world when those pills wore off.
But by the time the nature of officer's words permeated in his distracted brain, he was already turning away, effectively putting the close minded douche in his metaphorical, rear view mirror as he directed Daryl back towards the screen door. Working to get the injured man back into the safety of Hershel's guest bedroom, when Rick added his voice to the fray.
"Maybe you'd best get him inside Glenn. Back to bed." Rick suggested pointedly, lips apparently losing their battle with keeping a straight face as he smiled at them both in the muted evening light. With the older man having obviously come to his own damn conclusions about what he'd seen. - If he hadn't known already.
…Crap. Crap. Crap….
It was only when he heard Shane clearing the last step and coming up behind them that he tensed, arm clenching just a little bit tighter around Daryl's waist as he heard Shane's harsh breaths echoing out into the sudden silence. - The others shifted audibly in the background. Finally cluing in to Shane and his behavior as the quick steps of Rick's boot soles clipped up the porch steps in less time then it took to blink. Standing warily beside his friend as a hard look descended over the man's usually amicable features. Fixing Shane with a cool stare as he let a hand fall over the taller man's shoulder, message clear.
But Daryl only turned in his grip, head looping on a uneven swivel as he threw the others a jaunty, smug little smile and slurred out a drawling: "G'night 'ya'll…" - Like heading back inside had been his idea all along.
- Apparently oblivious to Shane's menacing posture only a mere meter or so away as the others gave him a series of amused little waves in response. With all of them, save for Shane, sporting the widest, most genuine smiles he'd seen on any of them since the CDC.
…He didn't know whether to laugh or pound his head against the god damned wall on sheer principal.
Daryl was going to be the death of him. He swore to god.
A/N:. Please let me know what you think? And if you are interested in a second chapter. Reviews and constructive critiquing are love!
"What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it's curved like a road through mountains." ~Tennessee Williams. (A Streetcar Named Desire, 1947).