days gone by (in a day, part 5)
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Daryl Dixon x pagan!reader
post-Negan era
CW: nightmares, trauma reaction to being woken up, oblique references to past traumatic events, angst with fluff
Summary: The days are quiet now, but the nights aren't always. Someday, the nightmares might be gone.
Daryl whimpered.
It was the only sound that slipped from him, but it woke me with a jolt of adrenaline that set my heart racing and my hand reaching for the gun at my bedside. Then I realized he'd curled in on himself, so still he could have been a statue beside me instead of a person. I let out a long, shaky breath as my heart clenched in a different way.
"Daryl," I whispered. "Hey, babe. Daryl."
He shuddered, and that small noise of fear and pain slipped from him again. I couldn't stand it. I reached for him, stroking a hand gently down his arm, even though I knew what the consequences could be.
He moved like a snake striking, going from curled and still to pinning me down on the bed, hand up and at my throat as if he pressed a knife to it. He wasn't holding one, however, and I stayed still, speaking in a soft, soothing tone.
"Daryl. Babe. You were having a nightmare, that's all. It's safe."
His eyes cleared, then filled with shame and regret as he released me, shifting to the side of the bed with his head in his hands. He'd been a snake a moment ago, but now he moved as if every muscle of his body ached.
I slipped from the bed, going to his side and dropping to my knees in front of him. I took his hands in mine, tilting his chin to look in my eyes when he started to turn away. "Daryl. Talk to me, babe."
"'M sorry."
"I know. It's not like I don't try to take you out when the same thing happens. Remember that black eye I gave you, the first night we were together after Negan? I know the risks of waking you up, but I can't stand seeing you when they hit," I admitted.
A ghost of a smile had flitted over his lips at the mention of the black eye incident, but it faded rapidly into the self-recrimination that struck him so often. His shoulders had hunched in, a posture I only ever saw these days in moments like this.
I caressed his cheek and he leaned into my palm, pressing a kiss to it as his eyes closed. "Don't deserve ya, baby."
"Shut up. You'll piss off the magic rocks."
That got a chuckle from him, and I smirked when he rolled his eyes. "Ain't magic. Just rocks, woman."
"Hey, they've protected us plenty," I protested, the old jokes comfortingly familiar.
"Only 'cause ya threw 'em hard enough."
I snorted. "One time. Only one time did I throw any of my crystals at someone, Daryl Dixon."
He was smiling now, his eyes holding more humor than angsty regret. "Once's enough."
"The love rock worked, too," I reminded him softly.
He tugged me to him, gathering me into his arms. Halfway in his lap, he turned us both so we leaned against the headboard, never once letting me go. "Yeah, it did," he agreed, kissing my forehead even as he began playing with my hair. "Still sorry."
"Stop," I said mildly. "Tell me about it?"
"Just- days gone by, ya know? Shit from before, shit from the cell. Think Beth was there, an' I couldn't get to her, and ya were screamin', and just- the usual. My daddy was there, too."
"That was a dozy."
His scoff was, as usual, eloquent. "Yeah. Should go back to sleep, baby. I's fine now."
"In a minute," I agreed, fingers now moving over his chest. "I'm doing something."
He paused, confusion apparent, then chuckled. "That sleep shit?"
"Maybe." It was, in fact, 'that sleep shit', just idly sketching the sleep rune on his skin with my fingertips, but I did one for protection as well. "Gotta find us a dream catcher next supply run."
"Shit, baby. Why?"
"To keep the nightmares away for us both." It wouldn't work, not completely. Nothing could keep what we'd seen out of our minds, our memories. No magic, no belief, no crystals or talismans or tokens could do that.
They might have been days gone by, the ones where I'd almost lost him were still fresh. Old wounds would heal, for the most part, but they never truly went away. Not completely.
Daryl moved like a snake again, but this time the rush through my body as he pinned me against the pillows wasn't fear. He stared down into my eyes, his body a warm, familiar weight pressing into mine, and my fingers kept moving along his skin. This time, there wasn't a purpose to them other than touch, than want, than need.
"Don't need 'em kept away. Gonna come, no matter what we do," he said softly, an echo of my own thought. His lips brushed against mine, once, twice, then stayed for something deeper. "Long as I wake up with ya near, I can handle 'em. Anything else, too."
"Sappy," I murmured against his lips.
He snorted. "Stop."
"Yeah? Make me."
"Don't need a fuckin' rock fer that, do I?"
I was still laughing when he kissed me again, sending the laughter to breathlessness of a different sort. Both were perfect, I thought as I began to lose myself into him. Both made magic of their own, and these were the days I'd remember, when they'd gone by like the others.