#strongoffensivelanguage

Break stuff

Warnings: Angst, non-intentional sh, strong offensive language 

The breeze that flowed through the trees created a gentle sighing melody as it caressed my silken skin causing goosebumps to rise on the surface, the leaves rustling like gentle applause. I was currently sat on a sea of emerald waves helping carl with his homework. Even as the world became still with the loss of humanity, the adults thought it’d be a good idea to keep him up to date with knowledge that could maybe become important for the future. The young boy’s mom was currently catching up with the washing, hanging it up on the washing line to dry along with carol. Ever since we were attacked on that fateful night by a small herd of walkers back at the atlanta camp where Ed fortunately for us, and many others had their lives taken away, carol had been basking in her newly earned freedom feeling like she had broke free of her suffocating cocoon and turned into the most beautiful butterfly due to her husbands brutal but celebratory death. It made me and the rest of my family proud to say the least. 

Suddenly a loud bang sounded from my far right coming from the stables making all heads whip around to the direction of the startling noise so fast we almost ended up with whiplash. Excusing myself from carl I rose to my feet wiping dirt away from my backside and looked over to the much older women to see Lori slowly walking up to me until she was next to me. We watched as Daryl slammed the door closed behind him furiously and stomped his way up the gravel path. I had to raise my hand and position it above my eyes trying to block out beaming rays of the sun above us to see more clearer before crossing my arms and sighing deeply. His face was nearing the crimson colour of blood he was that mad. 

“Oh god, he is definitely not a happy camper,” I commented eyeing his body language. The man’s jaw was tightly clenched with a serious frown etched on his sculpted face. He was taking long marches with a slightly forward leaning posture with his well-defined, muscular arms moving to and fro beside him and his hands forming tense fists bleeding at the knuckles.

Lori then answered my comment with a counter-argument which lead me to snort followed by another deep sigh shortly after. “Is he ever?”

“Good point.”

“What are we willing to bet that Daryl’s left him breathing?” Him being the adolescent we were currently holding captive tied up in Hershels stables in which Daryl had just emerged from. The korean known to us as glenn, the former cop whose name was Rick also Lori’s and Carl’s husband and father and Hershel the old man who was letting us seek refuge on his farm after fleeing the camp, brought him back just last night after being trapped in a run down derelict bar with two of the hostages gang mates trying and failing miserably to cap a bullet in each of their heads before getting caught in a shoot out with the rest of them which ended up with him being injured and his group instantly fleeing and leaving him behind. Hershel demanded to bring the injured boy back and operate on his leg before we decided to hold him and decide on his fate depending what he had hopefully told daryl. 

“If you’re right, I’ll help carl with his homework for as long as I’m alive. Do we have a deal?” I glanced at her intrigued to see if she’d take my offer, grinning when she held her hand out for a handshake which i gladly accepted. 

“Deal.”

My hand then reached into the back pocket of my shorts pulling out a white rag of sorts, grabbing a bottle of water before drowning the fabric. I then started to make my way over to Daryl who was now approaching a nearby log tossing his crossbow in a blind fit of rage on the dirt proceeding to then start pacing, thumbnail in his mouth and deep in thought. But before I could get closer, Lori stopped me with a hand around my wrist slightly pulling me back. “Honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I raised my eyebrows up in challenge shrugging my shoulders and turning to look at the elder brunette restraining me. “I can handle him. If he attempts anything, i’ll knock him down on his backside. Piece of cake.” If I knew anything at all about daryl, I knew that it definitely would not be a piece of cake with the way he was acting right now. I managed to gently pull myself out of the mothers grasp turning on my heel hearing her mutter a small “good luck” watching me walk towards the irate male. One could argue that luck is for losers.

Strolling out of the wooded area of our camp and entering the clearing, I observed him with beady eyes still pacing up and down pattern unchanging. It only took me a few short minutes to get there and I walked past perching myself on the thick log going unnoticed since he was too busy drowning in his thoughts and fury to even look my way. So I cleared my throat patiently waiting to be acknowledged. The fully skilled hunters body flinched viciously at my gesture turning his body fully to face me not halting his wandering around, my eyes not leaving his as I inspected his every movement, finally opening my mouth to speak.

“Sit down.” A demand fell from my mouth as I pointed to the space adjacent to me. Narrowing his pools of morning light, daryl slightly slowed his movements but still not stopping completely before grunting out a singular word. 

“What?”

“I said. Sit. Down.” My comment fell out of my mouth more sternly, stoney eyes narrowing into splits mirroring his vexed ones. 

“Nah, ya can’t tell me what to do,” the ballistic man towering over me snarled shoving an accusing finger in my face which made me instantly lose my shit, pressing a hand over my chest and gaping my mouth in sarcastic offense.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I think I actually meant: sit your stubborn as fuck hillbilly ass down so I can clean your wounds before I fucking drop you on it!” I threatened, voice dripping with venom.

“I don’t need to be babied!”

Daryl exclaimed, throwing in a signature arm swing for dramatic effect which made me scoff and roll my eyes in annoyance. What a fucking drama queen. “Oh really? Well It’s pretty hard not to since you’re damn well acting like one!” I thought we had passed the point of throwing temper tantrums like a literal child but I thought wrong. At some point during my chastising, I shot to my feet without even realizing it squaring up to him even though I was two inches shorter than him. I felt heat rise up my face, skin turning the colour of beetroot as I glared up at him with a dangerous glint visible due to the sun beating down on us. He opened his mouth to protest but I stopped him with a grave voice and a raised finger pointing at him mirroring a mother’s actions anytime her brats were acting up. “I suggest you zip it Dixon, get your shit together and let me help or else I’ll make you bleed even more,” I growled out, my stubbornness finally breaking through the cracks. He rounded on me quicker than you could finish the lyrics to ‘Hillbilly Deluxe’ before I had time to process his rapid move face just inches from mine, a vein bulging out of his neck showcasing his out-of-control temper.

“Go ‘head, hit me! Ya ain’t got the guts to!” Lifting a shaking hand to his head, he pointed at his nose marking where I should strike him tilting his head to the side slightly before straightening it back. Oh the fucking cheek on him. I felt the overpowering urge to bring my hand up and collide it with his cheek but I somehow managed to restrain myself instead turning up my fingers into fists at my sides. Nails pressed into my palms so hard it caused blood to drip from them. We’re just as bad as eachother. We shared intense glares with one another for a few moments in silence, both feeling the impulse to murder eachother. If looks could kill, I’d already be dead from the very second he looked at me however he’d probably remain standing because nobody can kill a dixon but a dixon.

“Fine! Whatever! Let your knuckles become infected but don’t come to me when they’re so infected they get gangrenous and need them fucking amputated!” And with that, I scrunched up the rag I was death-squeezing proceeding to throw the soaked fabric at him so forcefully it hit his bulky chest with a thwack! noise at which he made no manouvre to stop it from falling to the ground and stalking away. “Fucking asshole!”

If he didn’t want my help, then he could fuck himself with a 10ft barge pole for all I cared. From the near distance I heard the ecstatic celebrating of Glenn at my response. “WHOO! YEAH, KICK HIS ASS!” This earned him some chastising glares from the others as he looked around and felt himself shrinking under their piercing gazes so he replied with a small, barely audible “what?” 

I hadn’t made it 5 steps yet before I heard him grumble in shame and intermittent defeat which made me immediately stop my movements. “Sumbitch, wait.” I could tell by the way his voice dripped with guilt that he felt bad about treating me like shit for wanting to help him. So he fucking should. I didn’t have to help him, but I went out of my own way and chose to. As much as I wanted to somehow wrap my hands around his wide neck and squeeze it (kinky) most of the time, I hated seeing him all hurt and bloodied up. I turned my head around slowly clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth together so hard they hurt, my front facing his now deflated body. Raising a frustrated brow I waited for a sign that he wanted me to come back and a few short bated-breath moments later he slowly lifted his ripped arm and held the rag out to me not making eye contact with me. I inched back towards him snatching the material out his hand and not missing how it made him flinch. The sudden thought of him thinking I was actually going to hurt him made my heart drop to my stomach. Trauma from his childhood probably flicked through his head like pages of a book reminding him of why he was the man he was today. But I remained serious not letting how I felt right now show on my face. 

I breathed out an audible sigh of aggravation, placing myself next to him and making sure to keep space between us going to work on his cracked, bloody hands. An intense silence passed between us the only sounds that could be heard were the background chatter of our group, the birds singing their usual tunes, the leaves as they danced in the breeze and finally the distinctive sound of daryl chipping away at his thumbnail which was his coping mechanism for keeping his emotions in check before he muffled a barely audible, “sorry.” The word fell uncharacteristically and rough out of his lips like he had no control of the matter and it made me freeze in my spot, stopping my actions for a split second before continuing the gentle movement of my hand. 

Did I just hear that correctly? Did I even hear it at all? He apologised. Well slap me on the ass and call me sally! That one singular uttered word sounded so foreign in my ears especially coming from him that I had to hit pause and rewind back a few seconds to double, triple check that I definitely heard it. I did but I made myself seem unbothered and nonchalant despite how shocked I felt on the inside. 

“You should be.” Coldly, I replied not looking at him. I was probably the worlds most pettiest woman right now but right this minute I couldn’t give a single fuck. My responses and emotions felt valid and justified and I acted on them accordingly.

He shifted uncomfortably on his side on the log not removing his thumbnail from his mouth and trying in vain to gather his words. When he did manage to find them, he sounded like was fighting his inner demons to finally put them to use. “I ain’t good at this shit.”

“Clearly.” I raised my eyebrows in faux surprise still not taking a look at him. Still feeling pissy at him for treating me like how he did just a few moments before.

“Will ya fuckin’ shut up?!” He roared out which made me roll my eyes before removing the rag from the almost-cleaned up blood and looked up, the expression on my face telling him to get on with it before I left. But I knew him all too well, it was the last thing he wanted. I could clearly see it in his anger filled body language, the way his eyes kept flicking away from my face every now and then before flicking back to mine and I heard it crystal clear laced in his rugged voice begging me, pleading me not to.

The handsome redneck beside me cleared his throat awkwardly before finding the courage to speak, although slightly more calmly. “Ain’t nobody done this for me b’fore. Ain’t nobody had mah back like ya do either. Never. Not even merle-” For a split second there I saw tears collect on his waterline before he blinked making them vanish into thin air and it took all of the strength that I still had left not to crack under my mask right then and there. The strength it took for him to finally build up the courage to admit this to me must’ve been hella fucking strong as he never, ever spoke like this. Not to anyone until now. But I still remained straight-faced as I interrupted him which may have been rude but my patience was running thin, my voice sounding flat to my own ears aswell as his. “Is this a love confession or some shit?” 

This made his jaw clench in utter rage, biting his cheek to stop unleashing his anger out on me. But I wanted him to. I wanted him to get his emotions out into the thick, tense air circling around us. It probably didn’t help with me being a stone-cold bitch right now against my best wishes but then again payback is a bitch and she comes back to bite you in the ass. And not softly. Daryl shot up from his space with his body straight and rigid before mumbling out his words with another arm swing. “Forget it. Ain’t no use tryna tell ya when yur bein’ a bitch!” I’ve been called a bitch before by other people and took it with a pinch of salt, meaning it didn’t affect me but with it falling out of his mouth being aimed at me, it was like he shot a bolt right through my chest leaving a big gaping hole in its place. Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame, darlin’ you give love a bad name. It hurt like a motherfucker. He had never called me that before and I instantly started to feel bad for reflecting his behaviour onto him. He crouched down retrieving his crossbow and adjusting the strap on his broad ass shoulders. A twinge of pain flashed on his face and I managed to catch it before his face went totally blank a second later, stomping away and I closed my eyes cursing myself into damnation before shooting them back open. 

“For fucksake! Daryl! My calling out to him didn't stop the tensed up man causing me to groan at my failed efforts and pull my hair at the roots before yelling out the nickname I had given him but kept to myself. “Dare!” Instantly ceasing all movements of his limbs, he turned to glare at me over his big fuck-off shoulder his jaw moving side to side as he ground his teeth together. “Would you come sit your hillbilly ass back down so I can finish cleaning your wounds?” He made no effort to come back I noticed, my shoulders sagging and face turning soft as I begged him with my sapphire irises. “I’m sorry. Do you have to make me say it?” At this point, he was fully turned to me looking away. “Please?” Then his head dropped, deciding what to do before striding back to me mumbling something under his breath that sounded something like “gonna be the death of me,” and I grinned internally sitting down and watching him close the distance, leaning his crossbow against the log and throwing himself down adjacent to me again although leaving a smaller gap between us than before.

I gently took his other bloody hand that had yet to be disinfected and cleaned into my smaller one and softly collected the blood onto the rag, dabbing it over the injured area. Daryl’s long, slender fingers twitched a little at the cool sensation of the drenched fabric meeting his flared up, angry, throbbing skin that made his hands feel like they were on fire.

An intense contrast of hot and cold.

“I just don’t like seeing you hurt, that’s all,” I confessed weakly, barely audible crossing my fingers hoping he hadn’t heard. But who am I kidding? He had super-hearing like a fucking dog did. The gorgeous specimen beside me brought his other hand up biting his thumbnail yet again. It was basically an automatic motion by now he did it that much.

“Don’ like ya hurt neither,” it was his turn to confess now after a few short seconds of comfortable silence drifting between us, nervously looking down at his lap before his eyes veered back to me. My blue eyes met his and he instantly looked away, uncomfortable under my strong gaze.

“You gonna tell me what he said that made you lose your shit?” His body instantly tensed up as he recalled what the adolescent hostage had revealed which caused his blood to boil beyond breaking point.

The man gave a small nod before taking a brief moment to prepare himself and me if we’re being truthful here, before opening his mouth to loosely explain what had occurred. “I told (threatened) the sumbitch that if he didn’t cooperate with mah questions, I’d rip apart his fuckin’ stitches real slow ‘til he did whilst holdin’ a knife against his leg,” I nodded, my focus and attention solely on him as I listened to him relaying the information to me as clear as day. “So he did ‘nd said (whimpered) that at night he would watch his boys take advantage of the women they had in their group by gettin’ ‘em drunk. The motherfucker then had the balls the size of a bull to swear on his mamas life he ain’t like ‘em and did nothin’ to ‘em. But he’s lyin’, I know he is, so I beat him until he could no longer see outta one of his eyes.” My breath got caught in the back of my throat causing me to choke when he revealed the part about the women so I decided to ask him about it.

“Wait- they took advantage of the women as in they…?” Not being able to bring myself to finish the question, he confirmed it with a low grunt and a single nod of his head. Bile gradually made it’s way up my stomach to my throat and I gagged, paling rapidly in colour. Daryl then subconsciously lunged forward ready to steady me just incase I did end up throwing up but instead I swallowed it down with a disgusted groan and took a few deep, steady breaths to collect myself. Once I was sure the feeling was gone I waved him off telling him to continue, leading him to slightly relax and start talking again.

“I gave ‘im a little idea on what I’d do to the sumbitch if I caught ‘im anywhere near ya ‘nd our boys. Said i’d skin his ass raw with a chainsaw if I so much as caught 'im catchin’ a whiff at ya.” Correction: the actual words he used were ‘if I see ya anywhere near mah boys or mah gurl, i’ll gut ya like a fish and throw ya remains to the walkers.’ But as predicted, he kept the ‘my girl’ to himself not wanting me to know he cared about me aswell as thought about me, so I knew better than to pry. Instead I just nodded slowly giving him a small smile. Ummm, yeah, remind me to never get on the bad side of daryl ever again.

Going back to the previous activity, I made sure to check both wounds to see if they’d been cleaned properly and once I was satisfied with the result I placed the ruined rag down beside me, grabbing the roll of bandage (courtesy of hershel), and delicately wrapped it around both of his knuckles before securing it with medical tape also courtesy of the old man who reminded me all too much of my grandfather. 

I sighed contently looking down at my art work. “There, all done. Wasn’t so bad was it?” Rolling his eyes internally he retracted his hand out of mine making coldness smack into my hand at full force despite the tropical climate and once again looked down to see the work I’d forgone on his massive hands. I swear he could fit both of my tits in one hand. One’s allowed to dream right?

“Thanks,” he roughly articulated nodding my head in return, a small smile forming at the singular word escaping his irresistible lips. Daryl rose swiftly to his feet taking his crossbow in his hand although not leaving straight away. Instead he lingered for moments that felt like hours, glancing around unsure. His mouth gaped open like he was about to say something trying to form his words, but they fell short on his tongue making his mouth snap shut. I knew the look in his eyes he was subconsciously expressing with solidarity. It was the look of someone who didn’t wanna leave. The look of someone who desperately wanted to thank me for caring about them in a way nobody else ever did and I muttered a small, “I know." The adams apple sticking out his neck bobbed up and down due to him swallowing harshly and all I wanted to do was take him in my arms to hug him tightly and never let go but I fought myself. Turning on his heal to leave he went to take a single step but before his foot even touched the ground I took his hand in mine squeezing it gently, the sudden gesture made him freeze in his spot glimpsing down at me from the corners of his eyes.