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Mrs Dixon - Daryl Drabble

Prompt: Patrick calls you Mrs Dixon

Word Count: 775

Warnings: Flufffffff so much fluff omg this melted my heart

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"What's up, Doctor S!" Daryl walks over to where you and Carol are standing.

"Hey Daryl!"

"Mornin Daryl!" At least two different people call out from different directions. He is momentarily stunned, looking around briefly, surprised these new people knew his name, let alone going out of their way to speak to him. He looks back to you, and you smile.

"Good morning, Daryl," you singsong, reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He looks down, clearly embarrassed.

"Smells good," he says, referring to the food Carol was passing out.

"Good morning to you too," she teases. "Just so you know, we liked you first."

"Stop," the archer blushes, takes a bowl and scooping up some food with his fingers dramatically, plopping it in his mouth. You chuckle at his childish behavior, knowing the attention made him uncomfortable.

"Hey Carol, he's mine," you playfully poke the older woman and she grins at you.

"Ima leave," he threatens half-heartedly, but coming to stand beside you. "Sleep good?" he asks you, and you nod, feeling your inside warm up. He didn't get to bed til pretty late, long after you had, as he was on watch last night.

"Once you were there I did," you utter quietly as to not embarrass him too much, but still having your fun. He looks down again, his long hair falling into his face.

"Mm," he huffs, taking another big scoop into his hand, this time moving closer to you, leaning in and dramatically eating off his hand.

"You animal!" you laugh, playfully shoving his hard chest.

"Hey, Patrick," Carol greets the young boy who has just come up.

"Good morning, ma'am. Morning Mr. Dixon, Mrs. Dixon," he greets both of you. All three of you stop in your tracks, stunned into silence. Your eyes are so wide they almost pop out of your head and Daryl looks like a deer in headlights.

"I-uh, uhm..." you start, unsure how to respond. You are flattered, and have absolutely no issue being referred to as Daryl's wife... However... The archer's face is beat red and stunned, just staring at the boy. "Uh, you can just call me Y/N, Patrick. I'm not much older than you," you try to make light of the immensely awkward situation. He seems unaware of why you are all suddenly awkward and silent, but nods.

"Uh, Mr. Dixon? I just wanted to thank you. That deer you brought back yesterday, well, it was a real treat. And I'd love to shake your hand, sir." He outstretches his hand and Daryl continues to stare at the younger boy, still dumbfounded. You give him a little nudge and he clears his throat, before popping each of his food covered fingers into his mouth and slapping his hand into Patrick's smaller one, giving him a firm shake. Patrick grins before walking away and Carol continues to stare between the two of you, unsure what to do now.

"Well... I'm just gonna... get back to it, then," she mumbles, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the food.

"Sorry..." you mutter finally, looking up at Daryl.

He chews on his thumb for a moment, before saying: "Why?"

"For...that. I know that kinda stuff makes you... uncomfortable."

He thinks for a long moment, studying you.

"Wha? Ya don' wanna be my wife?" he teases, shoving you with his shoulder lightly, starting to shuffle away from the crowd.

"I-uh, I... What?" you stammer and he chuckles.

"Relax, I 'on't care. Was funny, s'all," he shrugs. You finally relax and laugh.

"Oh so you do know how to joke!" you tease.

"Better watch yer mouth, Mrs. Dixon," he mutters the last part more quietly, but gives you a teasing smirk. You blush wildly and try to hide it in your hair.

"Daryl!" Rick shouts, motioning him over from by the fence where they are getting ready for a run. Daryl lets out a huff and sets down his bowl.

"I'll see ya later?" he asks, and you nod. He hesitates for a moment, but seeing you smiling up at him, he can't help but lean down and give you a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek, close to the corner of your mouth, taking his time pulling away from you.

"Be safe," you mutter, your face still close to his, soaking him in.

"Always am," he assures, grabbing your hand and giving it a little squeeze before starting to head toward Rick.

After a few paces he turns around, walking backwards, saying: "I'll see ya soon," the corner of his mouth raising in a brief smile, silently telling you he loved you.

Why is it that the absolute best, 200k-word, life-ruining fanfics only reveal themselves past midnight, when I have responsibilities, alarms, and a fragile adult reputation to maintain the next morning?

Anyway. See y'all when I’m emotionally attached to fictional people and wildly unprepared for the morning.