Daryl, My Artificial Boyfriend (A Daryl Dixon Fanfic)

Chapter 6: Evening with the Evans

DARYL, MY ARTIFICIAL BOYFRIEND

A WALKING DEAD Fanfiction

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Previously: Emyli went to the mall with Daryl to buy him underpants and toiletries. On their way home, they got stuck in a terminal dome because of the rain. Emyli's top was soaked-wet revealing her bra. Daryl covered her with his body and they ran through the rain until they got home in a cab.

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Chapter 6: Evening with the Evans

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"Dad, we eat possums and rabbits in the woods all the time. I want to do something different for tomorrow," I had told him Saturday night that he arrived from his hunting trip.

The house was still empty that afternoon that Daryl and I came from Mall. I hand-sewed his side immediately (he was too proud to take an anesthetic pill) and then locked him in my room as dad and Kate arrived separately.

Dad had looked at me with sharp eyes. Retiring early from the Navy didn't stop him from properly taking care of his body. He was still a beast in two feet with a stern and intimidating look that hid his good-looking face. Kate got her eyes and wavy brown hair from him.

"Fine," he said, "we'll take a break from possums and rabbits. We'll do venison tomorrow to make it different."

"Dad, I want it to be special." I didn't groan but my dad had learned how to read and interpret my blank expression and vacant stare. He looked at me with ferocious eyes.

"Okay, two deers then," he said showing his peace fingers.

"Dad, I think what Emyli would like to say is let's go out for dinner," Kate suddenly blurted impatiently. We were at the dinner table and she had been listening silently while she pretended to be engrossed in eating her pasta.

Dad shrugged. "Okay," he said flatly and continued eating.

"I now have a boyfriend," I told my dad.

"Good. Does he know?"

"Technically speaking…yes."

"Oh my god, I have a weird family," Kate mouthed. She looked at me from across the table and smiled. "I'm happy for you. And dad," she looked at him, "that was a weird question."

"Just making sure," dad said coolly.

"It's a legit one," I defended.

Kate stared then shook her head. "These are the moments that fire up my suspicion that I'm adopted."

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I now sit on my bed with my knees folded in front of me; a lighter version of old-fashioned canvass rests on my lap, small tubes of colors on my bed and a paintbrush in my hand. Daryl lies on the extra mattress we put on the floor across my bed. I can see his peaceful, sleeping face; the darkness and the dim light of my room make him look golden.

I'm painting him. I'm painting Daryl. I am replicating his chest and how it was with the blood and dirt the night he arrived. I've memorized it. The contours and colors are at my fingertips. I don't need bright light to paint; I know the colors by heart…the correct mix that will produce the shades of reds and blacks on Daryl's chest.

"Hey." A rough voice resounds through the night's silence.

I see Daryl stir from the mattress on the floor. His eyes squint as he tries to see me in the dark.

"Careful." I whisper returning my eyes on the paper in front of me. "Your stitches."

He lies back down. "Ye should sleep." It is not a request but it sounds endearing.