Would You Have Me?
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Word count: 6.2k
Angst | Insp: betty by Taylor Swift | photo credit: @theteasetwrites
Daryl comes back, but something about him’s changed.
or
First post-Leah fic?? Let’s see how it goes. Oh, and AU. Kinda. Basically just pushed back the Whisperers introduction for maybe a few weeks?? And I refuse to rewatch Find Me, so if some of his history is messed up, uh… no it isn’t <3
It’s kind of funny - you don’t look any different than he remembers.
Older, sure, but your smile’s the same one that makes his stomach flutter, and your hair’s pulled into that same ponytail he used to tug you free from every night before. Before all this.
Just one glance is enough to make his heart hurt - just one glance is enough to make his chest well up with guilt.
How could he ever think he wouldn’t miss you?
“Oof- Holy sh- hi there, buddy. It’s been a long time since I saw you here. You’ve gotten so big.”
No, you look even more beautiful than he remembers. Both your hands are at either side of Dog’s face, your eyes alight with the same expression of affection that you used to give him on early mornings when he’d pull you into him, refusing to let go, and it feels like he can’t breathe when he remembers those days.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
“Where’s your daddy, huh? Or did you run away and come find me again?”
The gates of Hilltop are just behind him, so is Aaron and Carol and her son, but he can’t see anyone but you. You’re laughing now - a sound he could know even in death - bent down on one knee as Dog attacks you with his kisses, his tail wagging left to right so quickly it looks almost like a blur, and it sounds just as warm as the first time he heard it.
Dog barks then, turning in your loose admiration to look in his direction, and Daryl follows your smile like a moth to a flame. He’s suffocating on the autumn air - suffocating on the way you look at him - but there’s something else in the stutter of his lungs. Something that has nothing to do with how much he wants to reach out and kiss you.
It gnaws at him, searing like salt on a wound.
“Hey there, Dad Dixon.”
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