cigarette smoke (daryl dixon stories)

Nothing But Good

Daryl had been agitated all day.

You knew most of that agitation came from the overall situation: he did not want to keep cooped up in Alexandria. Anyone could see that. Hell, everyone saw that. He was pacing like a caged animal. Like this place that was meant to protect you was more of a prison than the broken world behind the gates.

Eventually, he snapped. You had been reading, not paying all that much attention to what it was he had been saying as he paced in and out of the front door of the house you had come to call your own. Oftentimes, you knew Daryl just needed a moment to process what he was thinking. He had told you multiple times he did not want or need you help right now, and so you backed away and gave the man his space.

But apparently, Daryl had taken a habit or two too much from you, because it appeared that when he said he didn't want any help from you, what he actually meant was he really needed to talk to you.

"Hello? Are you hearin' a word I jus' said, or are ya too busy with that damn book?" You saw Daryl back down at the end of his sentence. His mouth was half agape as he stood, frozen mid-pace with his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were visibly white from where you sat. Daryl knew not to go after your books.

You sighed and stood, knowing he hadn't meant what he'd said. Daryl had grown a lot in your time together, but he did have his moments that reminded you of how far he'd come in his vulnerability with you. You forgot sometimes just how hard he worked to not let his anger or fear get the best of him when he was with you. He knew you only wanted the best for him and had come to accept a long time ago now that you would stand with him through thick and thin. Sometimes he just needed a moment to vent–the issue was simply that he didn't know he needed that until he had said or done something he didn't mean.

"'M sorry," he muttered, dropping his hands to his sides though still clenching his fists. You took his hands in yours and took a big breath. Closing your eyes you took a deep inhale through your nose and gave a sigh bringing his large hands to your lips and giving them a soft kiss. Gradually, his hands opened and his calloused palms found their way to your cheeks and you felt him move to drop his forehead to yours. You waited until you felt his sigh of breath to open your eyes. His eyes were still closed, "Sorry." he said again, sounding guilty and small.

"It's okay," you said, moving your hands to cup his cheeks and watching as his own moved from your face to lace over your fingers, "What's going on?" you asked, knowing now for sure that something was definitely bothering him. When he remained quiet, you asked again, "Daryl?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug and opened his eyes, looking at you so intensely you thought he might be looking right through you, "I don' think I belong here." he said.

You frowned, you knew he didn't exactly like it in Alexandria, but you didn't know where he'd gotten the idea that he didn't belong here from, "What do you–"

"Y'know Jessie?" he asked suddenly, moving away from your hold on him to sit against the back ledge of the couch. Crossing his arms and looking thoroughly pissed. You moved to stand in front of him. Shutting the front door with your foot as you went and crossing your arms, mirroring the man in front of you. You wracked your brains for any connection to the name Jessie, and came up empty, "The blonde one–one Rick likes," Daryl continued at your lack of connection to the name.

You had to laugh at that, "Oh, I'm not so sure Rick likes her. Not like that, not with Michonne–"

"No, no, not like that but you know," he stammered, only adding to your confusion.