Snapshot In Time ➳ twd/spn

Day 312: Oh no, he's hot

Daryl's POV

“Grimes! The gun!”

Daryl’s head whipped around at the shout, the younger redneck just barely able to make the words out over the canopy of gunfire even with his exceptional hearing. His narrowed gaze honed in on the brunet, who was hauling ass across the yard, heedless of the volley of bullets that his movement attracted as he slid onto the ground next to Rick.

Daryl split his attention between the methodical squeezing of the trigger of the assault rifle in his possession and the conversation happening a few yards from his position. He could see Dean hold out an imploring hand to Rick out of his peripheral vision, Daryl frowning disapprovingly at the bold gesture.

Thankfully, Rick had a good head on his shoulders and didn’t immediately pass the gun over to the brunet, who shifted just enough to get a knee under him.

“Look, you gotta start trusting me at some point.”

Daryl was struck by how steady Dean’s voice was, unable to help but briefly cease firing in order to give his full attention to the pair pinned down at the front.

His eyes widened when Rick handed off the loaded rifle, the brunet immediately using the leg that he had braced on the ground beneath him to smoothly rise to his feet, taking aim at the truck that roared toward him.

Dean looked so completely in his element that it made something he had long since buried spark in the back of his mind.

The brunet inhaled, peering down the sight, before expertly squeezing the trigger three times in quick succession on the exhale.

Two of the bullets hit their mark, the neat holes in the engine causing the truck to make a weird sputtering noise, smoke billowing out from under the hood, but it didn’t stop. Daryl felt his stomach drop as the vehicle continued to roar toward Dean, the man stubbornly remaining in its path.

Dean calmly adjusted the rifle as the truck ate up the distance between them and fired again, the slowing vehicle swerving as yet another projectile ripped into the front left tire. The moment that the rubber exploded with a loud boom, Rick pushed to his feet and raised his python.

Daryl took an involuntary step forward, worried that their leader would somehow manage to catch a bullet before he realized that the Governor's men were no longer returning fire because they were too busy gawking at Dean.

Daryl snorted at the fucking stupidity of the Governor and his men as Rick swiftly took care of the truck driver, the man’s head jerking to the side as the vehicle ground to a halt a few meters out, still on the other side of the fence.

Two more gunshots rang out and the chains that held the truck’s ramp broke, gravity pulling the metal down with a resounding thud that seemed to echo in the encompassing silence.

Something stumbled out of the back with a low growl, the men on the wrong side of the chain-link barrier backing away as the Walkers milky eyes rolled around.

When it caught sight of one of the Governor's men, it ambled off the ramp with a hiss of excitement, the rest flooding out behind it. The men who weren’t caught off-guard retreated, Dean offering the seething Governor a cheeky salute after easily relinquishing the rifle to Rick, who was clearly impressed with Dean’s marksmanship.

Seeing as the fence was intact and the Governor had lost both his armored truck and his Walkers, Daryl saw it as their win, lifting his hand into the air in order to present his middle finger to the dumbasses currently running for their lives.