Daryl Dixon one shots

Restless

You'd had problems with insomnia ever since you could remember, struggling to sleep for no given reason. Before the apocalypse you'd tried so many different kinds of medication, exercise, and even meditation. After the world had basically gone up in flames, it only got worse. You were highly paranoid, and rarely got the chance to sleep; when you did get the chance, you couldn't. Until one night, when you were forced to share a bed with Daryl.

Fucking Daryl.

The two of you despised each other, even the presence of the other in the room set you off. You hated him, and he hated you. For no particular reason either, you just found each other annoying. He always had an upper hand on you since everyone thought he was such a sweetheart. You were more morally gray than the rest of them, sure, but that didn't make you a bad person. You could be kind just like the rest of them.

Even so, he was the only person- or thing- ever, to get you to go to sleep easily. That night, with his back against yours in that cramped ass bed. He always wanted to be on watch, but Rick had insisted he get some rest. Goddamnit Rick.

Despite your disdain for one another, the two of you somehow always ended up on runs together. Tonight was one of those nights. The two of you were huddled into a room together, locked away high in a building. Daryl was restless as ever, stood on the balcony with his keen eyes hounding the hoard surrounding the building. You were fighting to get some shut eye, curled up on the floor, wrapped in a blanket you'd shoved into your backpack earlier. You were shivering, and knew he had a warmer blanket in his bag, but you'd be damned to ask for it, and there was no way in hell he'd give it to you. You sighed out a breath, curling into yourself impossibly further.

You caught his glance stray to you, before turning back to the hoard without a word.

You rubbed at your tired eyes. It had been days since you'd slept, and damn were you feeling it. Maybe it was delusion from lack of sleep, or pure stupidity, but you uttered, "Daryl?" Softly into the silence of the room.
He grunted, not looking back at you. "Give me your fucking blanket." You huff, embarrassed.
"Fuck no." He responds, eyes glancing toward you again.
"I'm cold as hell!" You shout.
"Yeah I know, I've been listenin' to your teeth chatter for three fuckin' hours!" He shouts back, eyes watching you angrily.
"They aren't going to stop until I warm the fuck up you bastard! Give me your damn blanket!"
"No! I'd rather listen to your teeth chatter until the sun rises than let your grimy ass use my blanket!"
"Oh please, you never fucking shower! Rick has to force you to like a damn dog!"
"Shut the fuck up!" He yells.

You huff, turning around to face the wall instead of him. His eyes turn back to the hoard.

It was a while before Daryl's anger began to ebb, you always pissed him off, and as it did he began to get guilty. He sighed, and reached for his bag, digging through it to find the slightly thicker blanket. He dragged it out of his bag, and threw it at the back of your head. "There's your damn blanket." He huffed, turning away from you.
"Thank you." You murmured.
"Just bring a better fuckin' blanket next time." He snapped.

You wrapped the blanket around you tightly, feeling the sweet relief of the chill in your bones subsiding. Though, you couldn't help but realize how you still couldn't sleep. You'd been tossing and turning for hours, and it looked like you'd be doing so for the next few as well. You groaned at the thought, catching Daryl's attention. "What is it now?" He snaps.
"I still can't sleep." You complain.
"I ain't never seen you sleep, didn't expect you to."
"You have once."
He stayed silent, and an embarrassed air came about the room, even with the broken glass doors letting in fresh night air. You rolled over to face him, "Hey Daryl-"
"No."
"You didn't even know what I was gonna say!" You complained.
"Yeah I did. And the answer is no."
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
"I thought you were the all charitable, all compassionate Daryl. What about me Dary Wairy?" You pestered him.
"Shut up." He snaps in his thick southern accent.
"Not until you help me."
"I have to keep watch."
"We literally boarded up every stairwell in this place. There's no way they're making it in here." You argued.
He only grunted, not making a move. "Darrryl... please." you whined.

He glimpsed back at you, and you swore for a moment you saw some tired desperation in his eyes. You realized suddenly, that the only time you'd seen him sleep either was that night.