The Quiet Between
Summary: In the quiet, too-perfect calm of Alexandria, you and Daryl find yourselves struggling to adjust to safety after too many years of survival. As sleepless nights and silent glances draw you closer, the emotional weight between you both finally breaks into something physical—raw, hesitant, but real. In a world where nothing is promised, the two of you reach for comfort in the dark, trying to find something worth holding on to.
Warnings: Both characters show signs of psychological strain from the apocalypse and survival life. Exploration of guarded emotions, fear of connection, and breaking down walls. Sensual scenes and suggestive dialogue (consensual, soft-to-rough dynamic). Some profanity, especially from Daryl. Brief mention of cigarette use.
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Alexandria was calm tonight.
The streets were too clean. Too quiet. Like the world had tried to pretend the end hadn’t happened just outside the walls. You hated how soft it all felt—the safety, the silence. But more than that, you hated how much you were starting to want it.
You found Daryl on the porch of the house he barely stayed in. Sitting on the steps, arms resting on his knees, cigarette hanging loose between two fingers. His crossbow leaned against the railing, like he still didn’t trust the peace.
“Can’t sleep?” you asked, voice low.
He didn’t look at you, just shrugged. “Don’t much.”
You stepped up beside him, close enough to feel the heat rolling off his body. “Neither do I.”
Daryl flicked ash off the porch, watching it scatter like dust. “Place’s too damn quiet. Makes me nervous.”
You sat next to him, arms brushing. He didn’t move away.
“Better than walkers tearing through the fences,” you murmured.
“Still don’t feel right.” He took a drag, exhaled slow. “Ain’t earned this.”
You looked at him then—really looked. The shadows under his eyes, the scar on his cheek that still hadn’t faded, the tension in his shoulders that never seemed to leave.
“You ever think you don’t have to earn it?” you asked.
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Nah. That ain’t how it works.”
Silence again, except it wasn’t empty. Not between you two. It never had been.
You reached out, fingers brushing the back of his hand. He stiffened at first, like he didn’t know what to do with softness. But he didn’t pull away.
“You always this stubborn?” you asked with a faint smile.
Daryl glanced at you sideways, his mouth twitching. “You always this damn nosy?”
You leaned in just a little, your voice dropping. “Only with you.”
His eyes flicked to your mouth—just for a second, but you saw it.
“Don’t go lookin’ for shit I can’t give,” he said roughly.
“I’m not.”
He was breathing harder now, shoulders rising with every breath. He dropped the cigarette, crushed it under his boot, then finally turned toward you.
“You ain’t scared?” he asked.
“Of what?”
He didn’t answer. Just leaned in, slow, hesitant. You closed the distance.
His lips tasted like smoke and something darker—regret, maybe. The kiss was clumsy at first, too many emotions in the way. But it didn’t stay that way.
Soon, his hand was on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. His other arm wrapped tight around your waist like he was scared you’d disappear.
“You sure?” he asked, voice hoarse against your lips.
You nodded. “I’ve been sure.”
That was all it took.
He pulled you into his lap, mouth crashing against yours with years of restraint breaking loose. There was no gentleness now—only want. His hands roamed, rough and reverent. Every touch said what he couldn’t.
You tangled your fingers in his hair, bit down on his lower lip just enough to make him growl.
“Damn,” he muttered. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
Maybe. But neither of you cared.
Because for once, in a world that kept taking and breaking, you had something real. Even if it was just tonight. Even if it was just this porch, this silence, this man who’d spent so long holding himself back.
You weren’t going to let him anymore.
