My Redneck Savior || D. D.

My Personal Chef || 4

Alex's Point of View

Lots of walkers are making a commotion outside these walls, groaning and trying to get in. I don't care much about them though because I am more concerned about the unconscious person laying in front of me. I've tried all different sorts of things to wake him up, but nothing has worked. So, I made him a comfortable 'bed' and decided to wait and see if he'd wake up. The one problem with this plan is that there's nothing to do! Everything in the house was either bland or boring and didn't hold my attention for very long. "Geez. You'd think that a nice place like this would have at least a book," I tell myself as I head up the carpeted stairs to the second floor. Creak, the floorboards wailed as I made my way to the first door over to my right. Inside was a setup for a bathroom; completed with double sinks, a tall shower, and a porcelain toilet. "No walkers in here." I exit the room and make my way over to the other two doors at the end of the hallway. Out of habit my hand reaches for my knife and slowly I let the door fall back. It's the master bedroom, I remark as I flop onto the navy blue bed sheets. I could stay here forever, buried in the warmth of the blankets. But on the other hand, maybe I could find something better across the hall. I got up and was about to explore it when something distracted me.

"Alex?" A voice states from downstairs. It takes me a moment to comprehend what I was hearing before I started to run down the stairs.

"Daryl!" I shout, running up to him and gripping him in a bear hug. He doesn't try to return the gesture nor does he push away.

"What the hell happened to me?"

"I was just about to ask the same thing," I claim, a slight smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"One second I'm fightin' for my god damn life and the next I'm inside a house with a sore as hell ankle." I use my head to motion for him to sit on the leather couch in the living room. He sits down uncomfortably and sets his damaged foot onto the coffee table. I gently remove his boot and examine his foot. His ankle is mildly swollen and severely bruised.

"It doesn't look that bad. I mean I'm no doctor, but I don't think you broke any bones." For a second I glance up at Daryl to see him focusing on me and I could've sworn that I saw a glint of a smile. All shades of pink and red start to take over my cheeks at the thought of this rare action. Wait, why am I blushing? Am I embarrassed? Then an absurd idea comes to me. Do I like Daryl? I ignore the idea at the moment because right now I am just awkwardly staring into space with my hand still on Daryl's foot. We both just sit there in utter silence until I get up and speak. "It looks like it's getting dark outside. I guess we should stay the night."

"Alright. Could use the time to rest my foot," he agrees, wandering around the house to make sure it's completely safe. "Did ye' check the rooms?"

"Most of them, except for the one upstairs. Also, there are some canned beans and corn in the pantry." Taking our supplies and weapons we journeyed upstairs and decided to peek into the unchecked room. It was a small nursery for a baby girl, elegantly painted a light pink. The tough man besides me didn't think it was much of a big deal so he left. I walked over to the crib and leaned against it, fiddling with the blanket located on the small mattress. Man, this just proves how the world has turned to s$&#. This virus is killing adults, children, and the elderly. It's even slaughtering toddlers and newborns that haven't even had a chance to experience life. This topic of innocent people dying was still a pretty touchy subject to me and I couldn't think about it for very long. So, instead of spending my time crying about how the world has changed I decide to just sleep and escape to my dream land. To my surprise Daryl was thinking the very same thing and was sitting on the king size bed.

"There ain't no way in hell that I'm lettin' ye' sleep in this bed," he grumbles becoming defensive.

"Woah. Calm down Mr. Dixon. We're both adults here, can't we just share a bed?" He stands up and pauses as if to consider his options.

"Fine. Just keep to yer' side." Simultaneously we burry ourselves under the many layers of blankets and relax. I'd turned on my side to avoid looking at him because if I did I know that all of those feelings from earlier would come rushing back along with the sweltering feeling of butterflies in my stomach. Why do I like being here with him so much?

"Daryl, do you know that we barley know anything about each other?" I mention.

"Yeah, what 'bout it?" Daryl exclaims, clearly annoyed by me disturbing his rest.

"Well," I stop to sit up slightly, "I was hoping to get to know you."

"Ain't that much 'bout me to learn."

"Come on Daryl I know you must have something interesting that I would like to learn about you," I pouted a little to make him feel guilty for being his usual, cold hearted self.

"My parents were both drunks and drug addicts and I wouldn't care if both of their dumb a$$@# ended up dead. Heck, they never cared about where I was or if I was okay. The only person who gave a damn about me was my brother, Merle. And he wasn't the greatest either. I guess ye' could say I'd raised myself. Once I got lost for a couple days in the woods and found my way back all by myself. It ain't that impressive though because when I got back I did nothing but make myself a sandwich."

"Was it a good sandwich?"

"What?"

"Was. It. A. Good. Sandwich," I amusedly repeat.

"Really woman? I tell you a story from my life and ye' are more interested in a sandwich." Through eye contact I give him a pleading look, begging him to just confirm if it was a good or bad sandwich. The open window allows a cool autumn breeze to trail by as I wait for him to talk.

"It was good sandwich. Ye' happy now." Daryl's lips twitch into a crescent moon as I laugh uncontrollably.

"At least now I know that I have a chef with me at all times."

"Funny," he yawns sarcastically as he repositions himself on the bed, "Very funny." I looked at Daryl peacefully sleeping next to me, his features softly illuminated by the light of a full moon. From where I sat I could make out his chiseled jaw line, covered in untamed stubble, and his messy long locks. I probably seem like a complete creep staring at him for this long and to make things even worse, I lean over his still body and kiss him on the cheek. Wow, smooth move Alex. Now you can officially be classified as a weirdo. In spite of that though, I actually enjoyed placing my lips onto his rough face and for what seemed like the millionth time today I ask myself, do I like Daryl?

Daryl's Point of View

I built a barricade. It was supposed to block all my feelins' from escapin.' Not one person I've met so far has been able to break it, until her. Alex Pettinger. She is an one person army, knockin' down what I've built over years and I'm not sure if I am happy about it or not. Then out of the blue I feel the weight shift in the bed and fell her soft lips on my skin. Guess she doesn't remember the part when I mentioned keep to her side of the bed.

So, I fit in a little bit of Daryl's thoughts at the end to really explain what's going on with him. I probably am going to change point of views more often now too. Don't forget to vote, comment, and share with the fandom.

@ObsessedwithWalkers