disclaimer: I do not own the walking dead or anything associated with it.
HELLO! I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in forever, but thank you guys for sticking with me and reviewing. You are all the best!
SPECIAL THANKS TO Rikkiblake777 FOR TRANSLATING THER GERMAN FOR ME! :)
Here is chapter 12 and a whole lot of humor!
Lyla was humming to herself as she wolfed down the portion of scrambled eggs she had been given by Lori. The group was situated around a fire that was on its way out in the field next to Hershel's farm. The group had arrived there two days ago, after Lori had been whisked off on a horse and Lyla followed with Daryl on his bike. Her medical experience had been needed with Carl's injury and she was both happy and relieved that she had been able to save the young boy. She had grown pretty attached to the kid after only a couple of weeks and it would have been heartbreaking to have not been able to do anything for him.
Hershel seemed like an honest man to Lyla, and she could tell that Daryl felt similarly by the respect that he had shown the older man upon introductions. The other members of his household had seemed nice enough as well, and Lyla had particularly taken a liking to Maggie, Hershel's oldest daughter. The girl was around the same age as her and Lyla got along with her right off the bat. She was strong, spirited, and funny as hell. If the sideways glances and blushes weren't anything to go by, Lyla could also tell that Glenn had taken a similar liking to the pretty brunette. She was watching him talk to T-dog across from her and he looked happier than she had seen him in a long time. She smiled to herself and dug back into her food. She started when something warm touched her thigh, but she immediately relaxed when she realized it was a very familiar and large hand. The owner of the hand was sprawled out on his back in the grass next to her with his eyes closed and a piece of reed grass sticking out from between his lips. As she watched him one of his blue eyes opened and looked at her.
"Watcha smilin' about?" he asked in his raspy voice as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Lyla couldn't help the grin that spread across her face at the sight of his hair sticking up in every direction and dotted with small twigs and leaves from the ground. Despite the constant grief that hung over the group from Sophia's absence, things between her and Daryl had been wonderful since their talk in the woods the other night.
"I'm smiling," she said as she removed one of the larger twigs from his soft hair, "Because it looks like our resident pizza boy over there has a thing for the farmer's daughter."
Daryl followed her gaze and smirked when he saw the goofy smile that had been present on Glenn's face since he had arrived.
"Chopsticks better watch himself. That girl's a spitfire if Ah've ever seen one."
"I like her," she said happily, "Plus she's only a year younger than me. Maybe I can actually have a friend that's my own age, besides Glenn. I think I'm starting to age faster since I spend all my time with you seniors. I actually feel kind of left out since you get all those AARP benefits and I-"
Her playful joking was cut off as a handful of grass exploded all over her face. She blew some out of her mouth, laughing all the while, and looked down at the smirking Daryl.
"Ah ain't old," he growled mockingly as she continued to laugh, despite the abundance of grass and roots that was now spread all down her body.
"Sure you aren't," she said as she patted his knee and flopped onto her stomach next to him, her breakfast completely forgotten, "Speaking of your age, Dale keeps track of the date on a calendar in the RV. According to his ability to check off boxes with a marker, which I amazingly trust completely, It's now August."
"So?" asked Daryl disinterestedly as he dropped another handful of grass onto her lower back. Lyla watched for a moment propped up on her forearms as he shaped it into a small mountain.
"Sooo," Lyla said with a roll of her eyes, "That means that a certain date in July, the sixth to be exact, has passed without celebration. Congrats, you're thirty-five. Right now you are nine years my elder. Feeling old yet?"
She smiled at the disgruntled looking Daryl and opened her mouth to poke fun at him further, but another mouthful of grass obstructed her speech. Daryl was cackling on the ground with his raspy voice as she spluttered and struggled to spit out all of the offending, green plant. She grabbed her own handful and shoved it down the front of his jeans. Daryl yelped and tried to swat her away but she quickly took a seat on his chest and dumped another handful onto his face.
The shout had come from a clearly exasperated Lori. Lyla and Daryl had both paused; she with her hands in front of her face and he with a handful of grass ready to throw. They hadn't realized that the whole group had been watching them. Lyla giggled somewhat sheepishly as she looked at her grass covered boyfriend beneath her. She quickly scooted off of him and they both pulled themselves into sitting positions. The tips of Daryl's ears were bright red. Lori looked somewhat mollified now that they had stopped their bout of plant-life warfare.
"Seriously," she said with half a laugh and a shake of her head, "Do you both have the maturity level of eight-year-olds?"
Lyla squinted like she was thinking about the question very deeply.
"I think I might, but Daryl is probably just experiencing a mid-life crisis. It's not too unexpected really, given that he is middle-aged and-"
She coughed as yet another handful of grass made it into her mouth. She spit it out and wiped at her tongue, glaring playfully at Daryl who was doing his best innocent face. She giggled when she saw a few tufts of the grass sticking out from his pants.
"Hey Lyla!" came T-dog's voice from across the circle, "Wanna tell us why you're wearing that disgusting thing?"
Daryl groaned into his hands as Lyla looked down at her shirt. She narrowed her eyes at the big man dangerously and he regretted his question almost instantly.
"You better not be referring to the 2009 World Series champions shirt I'm wearing T. I know you wouldn't dare insult the biggest and best sports franchise in world in front of me."
T-dog swallowed nervously as Daryl snorted mirthlessly.
"Now ya've done it," he mumbled from his place next to Lyla. T-dog glanced at him curiously before continuing bravely.
"I guess I just didn't peg you as a supporter of the evil empire Lyla," he said with a shake of his head.
"Fuck yeah I support them, I'm from New Jersey," said Lyla fiercely. Then she narrowed her eyes even more, "Please don't tell me you're from Boston?"
T-dog grinned evilly and spread his arms wide.
"Born and raised."
"That's a shame," said Lyla with an appraising look, "I was starting to like you."
Daryl and a few of the others laughed loudly at that. T-dog was still indignant.
"How can you support the Yankees? Ugh they're awful," he questioned with a frown and a fake shudder.
"Hmm I don't know," replied Lyla with a look of mock concentration, "But I think the 27 championships they hold disprove your argument there. How many do the sox have? Oh that's right, they only have seven."
T-dog waved her off.
"Pshh, it's not about quantity. The Red Sox rock."
Lyla raised an eyebrow at him.
"Neil Diamond sings your unofficial anthem. Frank Sinatra sings ours. I think that says enough about both teams."
"Neil Diamond is awesome!"
"Oh sure, he's so much better than Frank Sinatra, you know, the best singer of all time."
"See that's the problem with New York sports fans, you're all too snobby in your big ass city. Next you're gunna tell me that Manning is a better quarterback than Brady."
"WHO FUCKING WON THE LAST TWO SUPERBOWLS THEY WERE IN T-mphhm."
Daryl's hand had covered her mouth and muffled her speech. She glared at him with her green eyes over his hand. He quirked a single eyebrow at her, as if to ask if she was finished, and she nodded grumpily. He removed his hand but kept in on her shoulder in warning.
"Don' get her started on sports if ya know what's good fer ya," he said tiredly to T-dog.
Lyla mumbled something under her breath and Daryl gently shoved her off balance so she fell sideways into the grass. She looked up with wide eyes at Daryl who was pointing a finger at her.
"Play nice now, alright," he warned her as the others laughed loudly.
She reached behind her to grab another fistful of grass but Lori's voice quickly rang out.
"No! No, Lyla, that's enough," she said as she made her way over to the younger woman, "I'm breaking you two up since you apparently can't act your ages around each other. I also think I'm going to start a swear jar going, seriously."
The depressed looks that immediately came over both of the couples faces made the others burst into laughter all over again. Daryl quickly pulled his usual blank expression back on and hauled himself to his feet, shaking all the grass off as he did.
"Whatever. Ah gotta head out to look fer Sophia now anyway," he grumbled and without further conversation he shouldered his Horton and headed towards the edge of the woods. Lyla stared after him with furrowed eyebrows.
"Be careful!" she shouted at his retreating figure before turning back to the others, "Well I guess he used up his quota for socializing today," she quipped sarcastically, "He probably has to go recharge his stores before making another appearance."
Lori laughed as she shook her head and cast a calculating look over to the German.
"You seem to be in an awfully good mood lately Lyla," she said with an implication that she wanted to know the cause.
Lyla shrugged and squinted up into the harsh sunlight from her sprawled position on the ground.
"What can I say," she began with a flourish of her thin arms, "Carl is going to make a full recovery, we're in a safe place, and I have no doubt that one of the men is going to find Sophia in the next few days. It's looking pretty good for us right now despite the odds."
"What about the happy hillbilly? He's been more tolerable than usual," questioned Shane. Lyla almost did a double take; she was still getting used to his shaved head.
"We worked some things out. Plus I found him some cigarettes the other day. He'll be grumpy again after he smokes them all, which will probably be by the end of today given that he has no self control."
"Wonderful," muttered the cop with a roll of his eyes.
"Hey, he only acts the way he does because you guys let him," she said defensively, "He knows he can get away with anything because he's the toughest and scariest guy here."
Shane looked like he was going to protest for a moment but then he sunk back into his seat with a slight nod of agreement. No one could argue that Daryl had faced more hardship than any of the others. Lyla smirked and continued.
"You guys let him walk all over you when he starts yelling. You should see him around my dad, it's fucking hilarious."
"What do you mean?" asked Glenn curiously, "Is he the same as he is with us?"
Lyla laughed loudly at that.
"He's exactly the opposite."
The others looked confused and Lyla explained what she meant.
"See, my dad is pretty young, only like 52, and he's intimidating as hell. You guys think Daryl is scary but he's got nothing on my dad and he knows it. I mean, the man escaped from East Berlin in the seventies all by himself. It doesn't exactly help that he rarely speaks anything but German too. I thought Daryl was going to shit his pants the first time he met him."
T-dog was rubbing his hands together eagerly as he listened to her. The others were leaning forward as well; they loved hearing stories about Daryl since the redneck was so tight-lipped about his personal life.
"So when I brought Daryl up to New Jersey that one time to meet my parents he was already nervous from being in Yankee country as he called it. I take him to my house and my dad proceeds to stare him down for a good five minutes, then came the interrogation in German. Are you providing for my daughter, do you have a decent life insurance plan, get a proper haircut, etc. It went on for a while."
They all laughed at Daryl's misfortune. All of the guys had been in that situation at some time or another.
"How did Daryl respond to that?" asked Dale with a chuckle.
Lyla sighed and put her hands behind her head as she leaned back in the grass.
"Like a dog with its tail tucked between his legs."
T-dog was roaring with laughter and she wasn't even finished.
"He was standing there practically frozen in his boots. Nodding every time my dad spoke and saying ja, mein herr or nein, mein herr. That's yes or no sir in German. He was so afraid of insulting my dad that he refused to even touch me when we were in the same room as him for the whole trip. I felt like the creepy villain trying to seduce the innocent girl in a movie."
"That must make for awkward family reunions," commented Lori dryly, "My parents were in love with Rick I can't imagine there being any animosity."
Lyla scratched at her flat stomach where her shirt had ridden up.
"There's no animosity. My dad likes him, he just also likes messing with him in his own overprotective, fatherly way."
"How'd Daryl win him over?" asked Glenn. Lyla smirked.
"By loving the two things that my dad says every respectable man should worship: Engineering and Jagermeister."
Even Lori was laughing now.
"My dad is a physicist so when he learned that Daryl's job is also based in calculus he warmed up to him. He's not exactly a humanities kind of guy; he only appreciates math and the hard sciences. Then Daryl matched him in Jager consumption and he suddenly wanted to be best friends with my boyfriend. I thought it was a good decision not to tell him that Daryl spent nearly the whole next day vomiting everything in his stomach up. He still doesn't miss the chance to wind him up a bit whenever he can."
"How does your mom feel about Daryl?" asked Carol quietly. It was the first time she had spoken all morning and Lyla tried not to act differently despite her surprise. She scoffed and waved a hand in the air above her.
"She loves him and thinks he adorable, with his accent and the fact that he always calls her ma'am. She babies the fuck out of him and yells at my dad whenever he's being too harsh."
As Lyla finished her sentence she was suddenly overcome with a vicious streak of nausea. She had stumbled to her feet and behind the large tree next to her when she emptied the contents of her stomach all over the ground. The others had stopped laughing when they saw she was in distress and Lyla vaguely felt a soft hand rubbing circles on her back as she noisily threw up her breakfast. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth when she was finished and leaned her head against the cool bark.
"Are you ok sweetie?"
Lyla nodded as Lori's soothing voice washed over her. She straightened up and ran both of her hands through her hair in an attempt to tame it. Lori kept a hand on her arm and was looking at her it concern.
"Are you alright?" she asked with her forehead wrinkled in worry.
"Yeah I feel fine now," she said, "I don't know what happened it just came on so suddenly. I guess my stomach didn't agree with those eggs."
"Why don't you go lie down in your tent for a while. I'm ordering you to relax and take it easy for the rest of the day ok? No watch."
Lyla nodded and smiled sheepishly. She allowed the older woman to begin to gently lead her towards the small camp that Daryl had set up for them two nights ago. As they passed the others around the campfire Glenn shouted out to her.
"Hey Lyla, do you want one of us to go get Daryl?" he asked while shielding his eyes form the sun with his hand, "He won't have made it out too far yet."
She shook her head fervently, her golden waves reflecting the strong sunlight vividly.
"Thanks but its ok," she said graciously, "I'm really fine it must have just been a fluke. No need to alert the troops just yet."
Glenn snorted with a smile.
"Alright, I hope you feel better."
The others repeated his sentiment and Lyla waved them off with a kind smile before letting Lori lead her over to the tent. The mother said a goodbye to her and left her alone with the promise of fresh water in a couple of minutes. Lyla thanked her and crawled into the mess of sleeping bags and blankets that she and Daryl had slept on for two nights now. When Lori returned with the water Lyla was already deep asleep.
Lyla woke up disoriented and groggy and it took her a few seconds to figure out why she woke up in the first place. Then the sound of voices outside of the tent alerted her to the reason. She could make out Daryl's low, raspy voice and she was almost positive that the other voice belonged to Lori. Suddenly the voiced stopped and the sound of a zipper being pulled down filled the tent. Lyla didn't raise her head from the pillows but she felt a weight ease itself down onto the sleeping bag next to her. Then a large hand was on her waist and gently pulling her toward an extremely warm body. She giggled and reached out her arm, shrieking when it met something cold and wet. Her eyes snapped open and she saw an abashed but smirking Daryl staring at her. He must have just cleaned himself up because his face was free of dirt and his hair was still sopping wet.
"Y'alright?" he questioned with a serious look as he leaned down to unlace her boots, which she had forgotten to remove before falling asleep, "The sheriff's wife said ya got sick right after Ah left this morning."
He tossed her boots to the side of the tent and pulled her to him once more. Lyla pushed his arms away gently so she could greedily gulp at the tall glass of water that Lori had left for her. Daryl kept his blue eyes on her the whole time she drank. When she had drained the whole glass she slumped back into the pillows next to him and intertwined her fingers with his.
"I'm fine Daryl," she yawned against her hand as her eyes slid shut again.
She felt him tug sharply on a lock of her hair and she yelped in protest.
"None of that now ya hear," he huffed as he pulled her up into a sitting position, "Ya've been sleepin' too fuckin' much durin' the day. Yer gunna turn nocturnal."
Lyla groaned but made no argument; what he was saying was true. She had been sleeping a lot during the last few days. Now she was realizing that she'd probably been sleeping so much because her body was trying to fight off whatever this virus was.
"Ya still feel sick to yer stomach?" he asked with concern.
He rearranged her body until she was sitting in between his legs facing him. She shook her head tiredly and was rewarded with a smile from Daryl.
"Good," he grunted, "Cuz Ah got a buck when Ah was out and we're gunna be eatin' venison tonight."
"Yay," she drawled sarcastically.
"S'better than squirrel," he grumbled as he peeled away a section of his shirt that was sticking to his wet, recently washed skin.
Lyla giggled as he dropped the material and it clung to him once again.
"You know I actually like venison. I'm just grumpy because I haven't had any Skittles in a long time," she teased.
He chuckled and looked up at her through his wet hair.
"Don't know how ya didn't rot yer teeth out or become malnourished. Ya hardly ever ate anything else," he joked back.
"My body actually requires six times the amount of sugar a normal person needs," she replied without missing a beat.
"Liar," he said good-naturedly.
Lyla simply grinned and shrugged before he wrapped his hands around her knees and pulled her until their bodies were flush against one another. She sighed and raised her hands to attempt to finger-comb one side of his messy hair into submission.
"No Sophia then?" she asked quietly as her fingers continued to move.
He seemed to deflate under her touch as he shook his head. Lyla took a deep, steadying breath.
"Tomorrow then," she said confidently, "I'm sure Sophia found some old house to stow herself away in and is just waiting for one of us to find her. Now come on, I'll help you get that deer ready."
He nodded and stood before helping Lyla to her feet. She started towards the entrance flap but his hand on her arm stopped him. She turned back and saw that he was sorting through some stuff in his duffle bag. He straightened up and faced her holding the single plaid shirt he had with sleeves.
"It's getting' kinda cold during the night and yer already sick," he explained as he draped it over her shoulders and helped her push her arms into the sleeves. Then he helped her step out of her jean shorts and into her softly worn, Dartmouth pajama pants. When Daryl was satisfied that she was warm enough, he grabbed her hand in his and led her out of their tent. The others were already huddled around the campfire in the dwindling light when she and Daryl walked up. He immediately dropped her hand as the group shouted out greetings to them both and made his way over to the large deer that was strung upside down in the tree. Lyla plopped down in between Dale and Glenn on a sanded log. The elderly man squeezed her shoulder lightly and Glenn punched her leg lightly.
"How are you feeling champ?" the Asian asked jokingly, but with concern at the same time.
The amount they cared made Lyla smile and she grabbed Dale's hand with her own as she addressed her friend.
"I'm fine now I think," she reassured them, "I promise not to ralph all over your shoes."
Glenn laughed and suddenly Daryl was standing in front of her. Each of his hands was coated in blood up to the elbow; he looked like he was wearing a pair of bizarre, bright red gloves.
"Wanna help me gut this thing yank?"
Lyla started to nod, but then the wind changed direction and wafted the rusty, metallic smell of blood straight into her nose. Her face flushing and the watering of her mouth were the only warnings she got before she found herself emptying her stomach of its contents for the second time that day. Daryl cursed and jumped out of the splash zone with panic written clearly on his face.
"Someone get me some water or a fuckin' towel or somethin'!," he shouted out to the group. Andrea rushed forward with a damp towel, which Daryl used to wipe all of the blood from his arms. Glenn and Dale were trying their best to comfort the coughing girl while they waited for him. Once he was clean, Daryl crouched down in front of Lyla, careful to avoid the vomit in the grass, and grasped both of her knees in his hands.
"Back to the tent then?" he asked somewhat dryly. He regretted his tone immediately when she looked up and he saw that her green eyes were watery from the forceful heaving.
"Aw shit sweetheart," he murmured gently as he moved a hand to the side of her face, "Come 'ere."
She sniffed and held her arms out to him like a child. He pulled her onto his lap so her legs wrapped around his waist and he was able to hold her up with one arm. Lyla eagerly wound her thin arms around his neck and pushed her face into his shoulder. Daryl stood easily, adjusted her body to get a better grip, and trudged off towards their tent without a word to the others.
The group watched his retreating figure in silence for a few moments before he reemerged from the tent and made his way back to the campfire. He started to hack away at the dead deer once again without a single word to the others. Rick glanced at Lori and she nodded her head towards Daryl with her eyebrows raised. He gave her a confused look to which she rolled her eyes and stood up. She crossed the distance between herself and the hunter and reached out a tentative hand to his shoulder. Lori withdrew it immediately when Daryl flinched violently at her touch and whirled around with anger dominating his face. She folded her hands behind her back to show him she wouldn't try to touch him again and spoke in calm voice.
"Can we get anything for Lyla? Extra blankets or some more water maybe?"
Then anger left his face and was replaced with a tired look. He rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand and sighed deeply.
"Uh yeah, that'd be good," he said without meeting her eyes, "Ah'm gunna finish this then see if she feels up to eatin' any."
"She should get some food in her. She's thrown up everything she's eaten today."
Daryl bit his lip and looked worriedly over at the tent that Lyla was in. Lori saw his worry and smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.
"She'll be fine. She probably just caught a stomach bug. God knows we haven't been preparing our food in the most sanitary way; someone was bound to get sick sooner or later."
Daryl looked at her and nodded somewhat shakily while gnawing on his lip. Lori understood his trepidation; vomiting and fever were the symptoms that bitten people exhibited. It was understandable that he was nervous about Lyla.
"I'll go bring her some stuff to help," she continued, "And I'll tell her you'll bring her some food soon."
She turned away but was stopped by a large, warm hand on her shoulder. She turned to face Daryl again and he immediately dropped his hand from her shoulder and coughed awkwardly.
"Just, uh," he stumbled over his words as he lowered his gaze to the ground, "Just wanted to say thanks. Fer helpin' her."
Lori smiled warmly at him as he kicked the toe of his boot into a patch of dirt.
Then she left to go gather the things for Lyla and Daryl turned back to the deer.
After the meat was cooked and everyone had gotten a share, Daryl loaded up a plate, grabbed two forks, and headed towards his tent. Lyla was sitting cross-legged in the mess of blankets with Bowie in her lap when he walked in. She had changed into a pair of running shorts and his black Ramones t-shirt. She smiled when he walked in and plopped down in front of her with the food-laden plate. Daryl stared hard at her for a few moments and was pleased to see that she had regained some color and lost the green tinge to her skin.
"How ya feelin'?" he asked concernedly as he handed her a fork, "Gotta try to get some food in yer system."
She pushed Bowie onto the floor, which he yowled loudly at, and scooted closer to the plate.
"I'm fine now," she said with a small frown, "It's weird I don't feel sick at all, just like I didn't after I threw up this morning. Now I'm just starving and really hot."
Daryl smirked slightly.
"Back to normal then?"
Lyla shrugged and rolled her eyes as she shoved a forkful of meat into her mouth.
"I guess. I feel completely normal at least."
Daryl nodded and for the next few minutes they both shoveled food into their mouths in silence. When the plate was empty Lyla yawned and laid back against the pillows, dragging Daryl down with her. She kicked one of her long legs in between his and he wrapped one toned arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.
"What's the plan for tomorrow?" she asked tiredly. Daryl rubbed a calloused hand over his eyes.
"Gunna take a horse up to the ridge. See if Ah can see anywhere the girl mighta hid out."
Lyla nodded and chewed on her lip.
"Any chance you'll let me come with you?" she asked in a tone suggesting that she already knew his answer.
"Not a chance," Daryl snorted. He quickly explained his reasoning after seeing the affronted look that passed over Lyla's face, "Yer sick Lyla, it's not safe. Ya know Ah'd want ya with me if ya weren't."
Lyla huffed in frustration but didn't argue. She hated to be left out of the action but she was sick, and she wouldn't be of much help if she spent the whole time puking everywhere. Daryl would be taking care of her the whole time instead of looking for Sophia.
"I'll stick to watch duty until I can last a day without blowing chunks," she said somewhat bitterly.
Daryl smirked at her language and pressed rough kiss to the top of her head. Lyla heard him mumble a low "thank you" against her hair, and she responded with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
They relaxed in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Lyla sat up quickly and turned to look at Daryl with a large grin stretched across her tan face. Daryl looked at her somewhat cautiously.
"You know what would make me feel better about being out of commission tomorrow?" she asked as she slid her hands up his chest slowly.
Daryl coughed and tried to ignore the twitching that was occurring in his pants.
"Ah don't know about right now darlin', ya know Ah love ya but ya did puke a lot today. 'S kinda gross."
Suddenly he felt a pillow hit his face. He propped himself up on his elbows and glared half-heartedly at his girlfriend. She had her arms crossed and looked half amused and half annoyed.
"First of all," Lyla began, "I brushed my teeth both times I threw up you ass, and second of all I wasn't talking about sex. I was talking about the fucking huge amount of weed you've currently got strapped to the triumph."
Daryl shot up at that with a lazy smile slowly spreading over his face.
"Ya serious?" he asked.
Lyla shook her head in exasperation and grabbed his broad shoulders.
"I grabbed it for a fucking reason Daryl," she laughed, "Now please retrieve the narcotics so we can partake in illegal activities."
He laughed at her mockingly serious face and leaned forward to capture her grinning lips in a deep kiss. Lyla returned it eagerly and giggled into his mouth. Daryl pulled away first and Lyla's mood lifted dramatically as she saw his flushed but happy face. He ran a hand from her shoulder to her elbow then stood up and shoved his feet into his boots.
"Ah'll be back in a minute ya pothead," he teased as he unzipped the entrance to the tent.
"Watch out for the cops!" she called after him with a laugh.
As Daryl walked back towards his tent with a significant stash of weed in his pocket, he heard multiple voices coming from inside. He stopped and stared with furrowed brows for a few seconds before pushing aside the flap and trudging in. Lyla was laughing from her place in the mess of blankets at a story that Glenn, who was seated cross-legged with his back against the tent's side, was telling very animatedly. Maggie was also there and she too was sitting in the same position as Glenn. The younger man immediately stopped talking when Daryl entered the tent and looked at him with wide eyes. Daryl ignored him and turned to Lyla with an eyebrow raised in question.
"We found the stuff at the same time so technically the pot is half Glenn's," she responded with a wave of her hand, "Oh, and he's also here because I like him. Maggie too."
Daryl stared at him for a moment before moving forward and dropping next to her on their makeshift bed.
"Whatever," he muttered as he took the weed and a pack of rolling papers out of his pocket, "There's enough shit on the bike to keep the whole group blazed for over a fuckin' month."
Maggie laughed loudly and Daryl's eyes shot quickly to her with suspicion. Lyla knew he wasn't used to people responding so openly to things he said, but Maggie certainly wasn't as afraid of the surly redneck as the other survivors were.
"What?" the farmer's daughter asked in confusion, "What you said was funny."
Daryl smirked slightly and looked back down at his lap where his fingers were rolling a joint with practiced ease.
"Yer dad ok with this?" he asked without looking up. He heard Maggie scoff.
"I'm twenty-five," she said dryly which caused Lyla to laugh, "I stopped needing my daddy's permission to do things a long time ago."
"Alright, alright," mumbled Daryl, "Meant no offense. Just sayin' it ain't ma land and Ah don't wanna offend your old man."
"Well we can just keep this little get together to ourselves," Maggie said as she laced her fingers together and raised her arms above her head to stretch, "And he won't lose any sleep over it."
Daryl felt Lyla elbow his side gently and he looked at her before following her gaze. He sniggered when he saw what Lyla was trying to point out to him; Glenn was all but gaping at Maggie's chest as she arched her back. Lyla grinned and leaned back on her elbows as she spoke to Daryl in a low voice.
"Das hat sie mit Absicht gemacht. Sie steht auf ihn." (She did that on purpose. She wants him.)
Daryl gave her an unbelieving look as he licked the paper.
"Niemals," he said with a disbelieving huff. (No fucking way.)
Lyla smirked confidently at him and he had to remind himself that there were other people in the tent as her full lips turned up in a tantalizing way.
"Ich sag dir, es wird bald passieren." (I'm telling you, it's going to happen soon.)
Daryl snorted and shook his head. He then realized that it had gone quiet and Maggie was staring at the two of them. Glenn remedied her confusion as Daryl lit the end of the joint and inhaled deeply.
"They speak German to each other," he told her as if it was a normal thing for couples to do. Maggie scrunched up her nose as she considered it.
"Huh, weird," she said, "Is it a sex thing?"
Daryl went into a coughing fit as he sucked in a breath the wrong way and Lyla burst into hysterical laughter. Glenn looked like he wanted to laugh but was afraid of what Daryl might do if he did. Lyla calmed down enough to rub Daryl's back as he wheezed and glared at Maggie at the same time. The girl still just looked confused.
"Well?" she asked bluntly, "Is it or isn't it."
Daryl's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly nasty to her, but Lyla spoke before he could get any words out.
"No, it's not," she said with laughter still in her voice, "My dad is German."
Maggie nodded in understanding while Daryl passed the joint to Lyla.
"See that's all you had to say cowboy. No need to spaz out."
"Ah didn't fuckin' spaz out," he all but spat at the younger woman.
"Sure you didn't," replied Maggie sarcastically as she accepted the joint from Lyla.
Daryl muttered something under his breath and raised his thumb to his mouth. Lyla quickly swatted his hand away and received a glare in return. She rolled her eyes and began to ask Maggie questions about her life. Everyone but Daryl talked for a few minutes while they continued to pass around the joint. By the time it was done, all four of them were significantly high and the tent was filled with smoke. Lyla had taken up residence on Daryl's lap and was playing with the fingers on one of his hands with apparent fascination. Glenn was giggling and practically hanging off of Maggie, who was staring fervently at nothing in particular.
Suddenly Daryl lurched to his feet and Lyla made a muffled noise of protest as he knocked her onto the hard tent floor.
"Dude!" exclaimed a crazed looking Glenn, "How did you do that? You were just sitting! Now you're standing!"
Daryl narrowed his eyes at the younger man in confusion before huffing and turning his gaze towards Lyla's sprawled figure on the floor.
"C'mon, s'too fuckin' hot in 'ere let's go outside," he said with a nod, apparently thinking that his statement left no room for an argument.
Lyla giggled insanely. His accent made his words nearly incomprehensible when he got high, and sometimes she couldn't even tell what he was saying. She shook her head and buried her face into the mess of blankets. Daryl stared at her for a moment before reaching down and grabbing one of her ankles with his large hand. Lyla shrieked as she felt herself being dragged with ease towards the tent opening. She only stopped squealing when Daryl dropped her leg unceremoniously to the ground. He jumped lightly up and down on his feet and rolled his shoulders. Lyla groaned into the tent's floor.
"No redneck, I don't want to do anything physical right now," she mumbled sluggishly, "Go find someone else to play with."
Daryl huffed a strange laugh and nudged her prone figure with the tip of one of his shoes. Lyla grumbled something else into the floor then shrieked as she felt one of his large hands grab her ankle and yank her foreword again. She sighed in defeat and let him drag her towards the tent opening once more.
"Let's go pretty girl," Daryl mumbled, "Ah gotta move around or sumthin'."
"Noooo," whined Lyla as she tried to grab onto Glenn's outstretched leg to halt her movement. Glenn retracted his leg with a giggle and she shot a glare at her friend.
"Daryl," Lyla whined again, "I don't want to move, why do you always have to moving. You're like the fucking Tasmanian devil and I can't keep up with you sometimes."
Daryl barked out a laugh without turning to face her. He almost had her dragged out of the tent completely, but at the last second Lyla finally managed to get a hold on one of Glenn's ankles. Daryl stopped and turned when his load suddenly became a lot heavier. He raised an eyebrow when he saw what Lyla was gripping onto.
"Lyla," he began slowly, his drawl making her name into a completely different sounding one, "Let go o' the chink."
Lyla stuck her tongue out in response and moved her other arm to grip Glenn's ankle with both hands. Daryl smirked.
"Fine then," he said with a nod as he turned away from the tent.
"Wait, uh, hold on," said Glenn nervously as he stumbled over his words, "What are y-."
He didn't get to finish his question because, with a burst of movement and energy, Daryl strode swiftly forward, pulling Lyla and Glenn along as if they didn't weigh any more than his crossbow. Maggie shrieked in laughter at the sight of the two friends being dragged as a single unit. Daryl dropped his hold on Lyla when they were entirely out of the tent.
"I think I'm going to be sick," groaned Lyla from the ground and Daryl was next to her in less than a second and helping her to sit up, concern written all over his face. He looked at her in confusion when he saw that she didn't look sick at all; she was grinning. In the next moment he felt her foot hook around the back of his legs as she pushed on his chest and sent him toppling over. Daryl grunted as he landed on his back in the grass and Lyla scrambled to her feet to avoid any retaliation, giggling madly the whole way.
"Bitch," coughed Daryl as he tried to regain his breath. He pushed himself into a sitting position and glared at his laughing girlfriend, "Ah'll get ya fer that."
Lyla's green eyes, whose whites were getting increasingly redder, widened and they began to scour the area for an escape route from the redneck getting to his feet. The couple was temporarily distracted by Glenn dragging himself up to stand on unsteady feet. He ran a hand through his mussed up hair.
"Guys, I'm really tired," he said with a huge yawn, "I think I'm just gunna-"
For the second time in minutes Glenn's speech was cut off as Lyla yanked him to stand in front of her.
"Touch me and the kid dies," said Lyla to Daryl, barely holding back her laughter. Daryl stopped his movement and just stared at her wryly.
"Come on seriously?!" complained Glenn shrilly while squirming in an attempt to free himself from Lyla's grip, "Why do I always get shoved into things between the two of you?"
The couple ignored him and continued to stare at each other; Daryl was glaring at Lyla in half-hearted anger and Lyla was still struggling to contain the laughter that was threatening to escape any second. Suddenly Daryl lunged towards them and Lyla pushed Glenn away from her body and to the ground in a panic, her hysterical laughter finally bubbling out. Just before Daryl's hands closed around his girlfriend he felt something collide with his face and his body hit the ground once more. He looked up in a daze and saw Lyla bending over him, her green eyes wide and her long hair obscuring his vision.
"Did ya just fuckin' punch me yankee?" he asked, his tone torn between incredulousness and annoyance. Lyla laughed sheepishly in response and then quickly reverted to hysterical laughter again as she backed away and gave him room to get up.
"Fergot how damn giggly ya get when ya smoke," he grumbled as he got to his feet unsteadily.
"I'm…sorry," panted Lyla in between bouts of laughter with her hands clutching at her stomach, "I…don't know what happened…I just…reacted."
Then she raised her tan hands in front of her face in a mock fighting stance and began to bounce slightly.
"Now what the fuck are ya doin'?" asked Daryl with his thin eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
"Offering you a free shot," replied Lyla with a serious nod, her previous laughter finally subsided, "Come on. I want you to hit me as hard as you can."
"Settle down there, Tyler Durden," he said easily, "Now ain't exactly a good time to start up a fight club. Let's take a walk to sober ya up some."
Lyla giggled and flounced over to him. She wrapped her arms around his lean waist and stared up at him like an expectant child. She rested her chin on his chest and blinked her bloodshot eyes.
"Can't we just have sex instead?" she asked girlishly as she pushed her hips harder against his.
Lyla watched as Daryl's eyes darkened with lust and felt a shiver run through his body. She grinned wickedly and bit her bottom lip slightly in the way she knew drove him crazy. The rapidly growing bulge pressing into her thigh told her that he hadn't smoked enough weed for it to affect that part of his anatomy.
"Please don't do it right here," groaned Glenn from where he was lying facedown in the grass; not having moved after Lyla pushed him. The realization that he was still there sent Lyla into another fit of hysterics and even Daryl laughed at the younger man as he practically held Lyla up. It was at that moment that Maggie decided to leave the tent and she looked around, her eyes glazed over and sleepy. Daryl nodded to her and Lyla didn't even notice her presence.
"I'm heading back inside," she said tiredly then looked at Glenn on the ground amusedly, "I'll take care of this idiot on my way. See you guys tomorrow."
Even after Maggie had helped Glenn back to his tent and retreated to the farmhouse, Lyla was still laughing with her face pressed into the fabric of Daryl's shirt. Daryl, his head spinning slightly, leaned his head forward and buried his face in her golden, sweet-smelling hair until she quieted down.
"I'm cold," Lyla whispered a few seconds after her laughter stopped.
Daryl sighed into her hair and nodded. He pressed a swift kiss to her forehead before pulling away and taking one of her hands. Silently he led the way back to their tent and ushered Lyla into its slightly warmer interior. She immediately kicked off her shorts and pulled her shirt over her head, standing in the almost pitch black darkness in nothing but her thin underwear.
"Ah thought ya said you were cold, yank," said Daryl lowly as he turned to close the opening of the tent. When he turned back around Lyla pressed her naked body against his clothed one.
"I am redneck," she asserted, her raspy voice even more gravelly than it usually was from the smoking, "You'll just have to warm me up."
Daryl smirked as Lyla began to pull him back towards their makeshift bed.
Thanks so much for reading! Any thoughts/suggestions?