“Jesus Christ,” you muttered under your breath as your foot snagged on something hidden in the grass. Pain throbbed through your feet after hours on pavement.
“Y’alright?” someone called.
“Yeah—sorry,” you said, pushing forward again.
You’d all been walking for what felt like forever, searching for anything—food, water, anything at all. Your throat was so dry it felt like it was closing in on itself.
Eventually, you slowed, then stopped. The dizziness hit hard, forcing you to take a step back.
“Hey!”
Daryl’s voice cut through the haze. He stepped toward you, holding out his water bottle.
“Here.”
“I can’t, Daryl,” you said, pressing your palm to your burning forehead. You felt feverish—like you could fry something on your skin, “You need it too”
“Ain’t the one ‘bout t’ drop” - “Drink it,” he said firmly, “or I’ll shove it down yer throat, woman.”
You hesitated—but one look at him and you gave in. Taking the bottle, you drank deeply, the water hitting your system like relief itself.
You drank a little too fast.
“Easy”
“…Thank you.”
He answered with a low grunt.
“C’mon,” he said.
“I’m trying,” you breathed.
“Yeah” he said under his breath. “I know”
-
Rain hammered against the barn roof, loud enough to drown out almost everything else. What had started as something almost comforting had turned into a full-blown storm, wind rattling the old wood, rain slipping through every weak spot it could find.
Still… it was shelter.
And for once, you weren’t alone.
Everyone was huddled close, half-asleep or already gone. The air was thick with damp and exhaustion.
Daryl was awake.
Of course he was.
You shifted slightly, pulling your arms closer to yourself, but it didn’t help. The cold had settled deep, and the shivering wouldn’t stop.
Your eyes drifted toward him.
He was sitting near the door, crossbow within reach, gaze fixed somewhere outside. Always watching.
Like he felt it, his eyes flicked over—and landed on you.
He held your gaze for a second, then tilted his head, a small jerk toward himself.
C’mon.
You hesitated, then pushed yourself up and made your way over, careful not to wake the others. The closer you got, the colder it felt, the wind sneaking in through the cracks in the wood.
You stopped beside him, trying—and failing—to hide the way you were shaking.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
Didn’t say a word. Just reached up, grabbed the blanket off his shoulders, and draped it around you.
It was still warm.
You blinked, a little caught off guard. “…Thank you. Again.”
A quiet grunt.
“Stop sayin’ thank you.”
There was no bite to it. Just that usual rough edge.
You glanced at him, a little challenge slipping through despite the cold. “Why?”
For a second, he didn’t answer. Just kept his eyes ahead, jaw shifting slightly like he was thinking—or maybe trying not to.
Then, quieter—
“’Cause I ain’t doin’ it for that.”
Your breath hitched, just a little.
The storm kept raging outside.
But somehow, sitting there beside him, wrapped in his warmth…
it didn’t feel quite as cold.
-
Morning came quieter than the storm.
The rain had eased into a soft drip from the barn roof, water sliding down wood and pooling in the dirt outside. The air was still cold, but it didn’t bite the same way anymore.
People started stirring slowly—soft groans, shifting bodies, the low murmur of waking up.
You blinked your eyes open, disoriented for a second before everything came back.
The barn. The storm.
Daryl.
The blanket was still around your shoulders.
You sat up slightly, adjusting it—and that’s when you noticed he wasn’t where he’d been.
Your stomach dipped for half a second.
Then—
The barn door creaked.
You turned just as Daryl stepped back inside, crossbow slung over his shoulder, boots damp with mud. A couple of squirrels hung from his belt.
Of course.
He glanced up, eyes sweeping the room quickly—checking, counting.
When his gaze landed on you, it paused.
Just for a second.
“You’re up,” he muttered.
You nodded, pushing yourself to your feet, still wrapped in his blanket. “Yeah. Didn’t think you’d be gone already.”
“Sun’s up,” he shrugged. “Ain’t got time t’ sit ‘round.”
You huffed softly. “Guess not.”
There was a small pause as he moved past you, setting his gear down. You watched him for a moment, then tugged the blanket a little tighter around yourself.
“…You didn’t have to leave it.”
He didn’t look at you. “Yeah, I did.”
You frowned slightly. “You were freezing too.”
Daryl snorted under his breath, like the idea didn’t even register. “I’m fine.”
You stepped a little closer, lowering your voice. “Still. Thanks.”
He stilled for half a second.
There it was again—that same reaction as last night.
“Thought I told ya t’ quit that.”
You almost smiled. “And I thought you said you weren’t doin’ it for a thank you.”
He shot you a look at that—quick, sharp—but there was no real heat behind it.
“…Ain’t mean you gotta keep sayin’ it.”
There was a beat.
Then, without another word, he reached out—quick, casual—and tugged the edge of the blanket tighter around your shoulders where it had slipped.
The gesture was so brief it almost didn’t happen.
But it did.
“Don’t get used t’ it,” he muttered, already turning away, busying himself with his gear.
You watched him for a second.
“…Wasn’t planning on it.”
He gave a quiet grunt in response, but you caught the way his shoulders eased—just slightly.
Outside, the last of the rain faded.
And for a moment, things felt… okay.
a/n: Okay… this is my first time really talking on here, and I already have a question. I’m thinking about turning this into a series—what do you guys think?”