The Sentient Orange

Every morning he told himself he was being stupid. Every night he touched the small velvet box hidden inside his jacket and thought about you anyway.

It had happened during a supply run outside Alexandria. It was just like any other day. Just another abandoned house slowly being swallowed by time and nature. Broken windows, collapsed furniture, dust coating every surface.

Daryl had only entered because Aaron wanted canned food from the kitchen cupboards.

Instead, Daryl found the ring upstairs. A tiny velvet box hidden inside a bedside table drawer.

He almost ignored it completely, but then he opened it.

And there it was.

A simple ring with a small diamond that still caught the afternoon sunlight somehow despite years of dust and ruin. Daryl stared at it for a long moment. The old world felt strange sometimes. He found ghosts everywhere.

People who once loved each other enough to promise forever. Most days Daryl thought forever was a dangerous thing to believe in.

Then he thought about you.

About your sleepy smile every morning when he returned from runs. About the way you automatically reached for him. About sitting on the porch together after dark while you rested your head on his shoulder, fingers interwined. About how Alexandria finally felt like home because you were there. And suddenly the thought appeared so naturally it nearly stole the air from him.

Marry her.

Daryl immediately shut the box again.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself.

Yet somehow the ring still ended up in his pocket. The problem was that once the idea existed in his mind, it refused to leave him alone.

By the second day, Carol noticed something was going on with him. Mostly because Daryl kept absentmindedly checking his pocket every five minutes.

“You’re acting weird,” Carol Peletier observed casually while chopping vegetables.

“Ain’t.”

“You nearly walked into a wall earlier.”

Daryl grunted and Carol narrowed her eyes.

 “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You’re going to ask her to marry you.”

He looked genuinely horrified.

“Keep your damn voice down!”

Carol gasped dramatically. 

“You are!”

“Shut up.”

“You found a ring, didn’t you?”

Daryl stared at her silently, Carol placed a hand over her heart.

“This is the best day of my life.”

“It ain’t even like that.”

“You have carried around that expression for three days straight, Daryl. You look like a frightened raccoon.”

“A what?” He scowled deeply.

“You heard me.”

Carol spent the next several days being completely unbearable. Every time you walked into a room she smirked at Daryl like she knew a secret.

Which she did.

Daryl considered throwing himself off Alexandria’s walls at least twice.

Meanwhile you remained blissfully unaware, mostly because Daryl still acted normal around you.

Well.

Mostly normal.

You noticed the increased staring and the fact he kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say something before changing his mind. One evening while sitting together on the porch outside your house, you finally nudged his shoulder lightly.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothin’.”

“You’re terrible at lying.”

“Said I’m fine.”

You studied him carefully, he looked nervous, which almost never happened unless something truly mattered to him. You reached over and took his hand gently.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Daryl’s chest tightened painfully, that was exactly the problem, because he loved you so much it genuinely frightened him sometimes.

That night he barely slept, and by morning he had decided two things.

First, he was absolutely going to ask you.

Second, he might actually die from the anxiety beforehand.

The opportunity arrived unexpectedly later that afternoon, most of Alexandria gathered near the centre of the street helping repair fencing after a recent storm.

You stood nearby sorting tools while laughing at something Glenn said.

And Daryl suddenly thought, If I don’t ask now, I never will.

His heart hammered violently.

“Hey,” he muttered.

You looked over immediately, smiling the second you saw him.

There it is, Daryl thought helplessly.

That damn smile.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

He absolutely was not. Daryl rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms against his trousers before glancing around.

Too many people.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

“Can ya come with me a sec?”

You tilted your head curiously but followed him without question, Daryl led you behind one of the quieter houses near the edge of Alexandria where the noise from the others faded into the background.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, worried, you have never seen Daryl like this before. Daryl turned towards you. Then immediately forgot every single sentence he had prepared.

Brilliant.

“Daryl?”

He swallowed hard, his fingers fumbled nervously inside his jacket pocket before pulling out the small velvet box. Your eyes widened instantly.

“Oh.”

Daryl stared firmly at the ground, he was too afraid to look at you in the eyes.

“Found it on a run.”

You looked down at the ring before looking back at him, he was still staring at the ground.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.”

Daryl’s heart pounded so hard he genuinely thought he might throw up, finally he forced himself to continue but he still couldn’t look at you. 

“Been carryin’ it around.”

“Why?”

Daryl finally looked up at you then, his blue eyes were full of something so open and vulnerable it made your chest ache.

“Cause I kept thinkin’ about you.”

Daryl rubbed a hand nervously over the back of his neck.

“Ain’t got some big speech planned or nothin’,” he admitted roughly. “Don’t really know how ta do this right.”

“You’re doing fine,” you whispered, he laughed a little under his breath.

“Nah. Prob’ly not.” Then his expression turned serious again. “But I know I wanna wake up next ta you every day I got left.”

Tears immediately filled your eyes Daryl stepped closer.

“Know the world’s all messed up now. Maybe rings don’t mean much anymore.”

“They do,” you whispered shakily as his thumb brushed nervously against the edge of the box.

“You make this place feel good.” His voice cracked slightly. “Make me feel good.”

Your heart completely melted.

“And I…” He exhaled shakily. “Hell.”

“Take your time.” You smiled, you could only imagine how difficult this was for him. He was never a man of many words. Daryl looked at you with so much love it nearly hurt.

“Will you be my wife?”

Silence.

Daryl’s entire body tensed immediately. Then you started crying, his eyes widened in panic.

“Oh God. Was that bad?”

“No!” You laughed through your tears instantly.

“You cryin’ seemed bad!”

You grabbed his jacket quickly before he could spiral further.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

Relief hit his face so hard it almost looked painful, you were sure a huge weight fell off his shoulders just then.

“Oh thank Christ.”

You burst into laughter while he shakily slid the ring onto your finger. It fit surprisingly well.

“There,” Daryl muttered softly, staring down at your hand like he could not believe it. “Mine.”

Your entire chest warmed.

“Your wife,” you corrected gently.

Daryl looked absolutely wrecked emotionally by those words.

Then he kissed you, with overwhelmingly tenderness.

One hand cradled your face while the other settled firmly against your waist like he needed to keep you close.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were smiling helplessly. Unfortunately, neither of you realised Carol had followed him.

“Oh my God!”

You jumped, Daryl groaned. Carol stood nearby looking ready to explode with excitement.

“I knew it! I knew it!”

“You were spying on us?!” Daryl snapped.

“Yes,” Carol replied easily. “And I regret nothing, that was so cute.”

Then she spotted the ring on your hand and immediately screamed loud enough to alert half of Alexandria. Within seconds, people started appearing around the corner.

Glenn looked delighted, Maggie gasped happily, Rick blinked once before grinning.

“Holy shit,” Glenn laughed. “Daryl proposed?”

“Everybody shut up,” Daryl muttered, already turning red.

Too late.

The entire street erupted into celebration, yet through all the noise, Daryl only looked at you. Still staring at the ring on your finger like he could barely believe this was real.

“You happy?” you whispered, Daryl looked back up immediately, then he cupped your face gently.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Got everythin’ I ever wanted.”

And honestly? You felt exactly the same way.

~Masterlist~

You blinked a couple of times, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. “Huh?”

“Sorry. Hi, honey.” Spencer’s voice finally registered in your ears. “Do you prefer apple juice or orange juice?”

“Why are you asking me that?” You stifled a yawn, mood now somewhere half between exhausted and utterly confused.

“You need plenty of fluids when you’re sick and I know for a fact you’re neglecting the responsibility.” You could hear the exasperated eyebrow raise through the phone. “Fruit juice is essential for boosting your immune system and fighting illnesses and so I’ll ask you again: do you prefer apple juice or orange juice?”

“Wait-“ you blinked again, “you’re coming here?”

“Yes.” He answered decisively. “Is that a problem?”

“Is that a-” you trailed off under your breath. You glanced down at yourself: horrendous bedhead sticking up at the back of your head; grubby old pyjama pants rolling halfway up your leg; and a pile of tissues mountain high on your nightstand that was honestly just plain disgusting. “Yes. Yes that’s a problem. I’m all snotty and gross- you are not seeing me like this.”

Spencer pouted and you heard him begin rummaging through bottles on a shelf on the other side of the phone. “Well, unfortunately for you I care far more about your health than about you being ‘snotty’.”

“No!” You huffed, suddenly much more awake as you jolted up in bed. “I’m still your nice, new girlfriend you don’t get to see me all snotty and gross yet.”

“I didn’t realise there were time constraints to this kind of thing.”

“Yes there are.” You were fully awake now, glaring into the phone as if he could see it. “You’re not allowed to see me like this for another year, at least.”

Spencer hummed on the other side of the call, something almost smug in his voice and you could practically hear him smirking when he spoke again. “So you’re saying you’re still going to want to be with me in a year?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t get cute.”

“Another year at least.” Oh yeah. He was definitely being smug.

“I said don’t get cute.”

He laughed under his breath, a cocky sound that said he knew exactly what he was acting like. A menace. “Cute and your long-term boyfriend, huh?”

“If you carry on I’m not going to let you in at all.” You huffed as you hurtled yourself out of bed, but there was a smile betraying your words as it crept its way onto your face.

“I’ll just use the key you gave me.” Vaguely, you could just about make out the sound of bottles hitting the bottom of a basket. It seemed like he was buying both just in case.

“The key I gave you for emergencies.”

Spencer went quiet for a moment, and somehow the whole world seemed to stand still. “You being sick is an emergency to me.”

Damn it. The thought of a boyfriend seeing you sick and grubby and practically melded with your bedsheets should send you running. It should have you barricading doors, throwing your phone away, coming up with some kind of vague excuse to be MIA until you were back to your prim and proper self. But for some reason with him the thought melted away until it was nothing, seeping through the cracks and washing away any voices telling you to shut him out. Your mind drifted away, conjuring images of Spencer standing on the other side of your door with armfuls of medicine and soup and juice. You picture him standing there with a sappy smile, one that says I’m so happy to see you but please for the love of God lay down and let me care about you, and all the walls you’d put up crumble.

“Hello?” His voice passes by you like a cloud and you hazily blink yourself back to focus. “Are you okay?”

‘Yeah,” you clear your throat, straightening your posture like he could see it and trying to summon back your own stubbornness, “I mean if you insist on coming over I guess I can’t stop you.”

The giggle that sounded through the phone could have knocked you off your feet if you weren’t already holding yourself up against your nightstand. “No you can’t. Now will you please get back into bed? I can hear you stumbling around.”

“I swear, you have the hearing of a bat.” Grinning, you flopped rather unceremoniously back into your messy heap of blankets. “I’m not allowed to freshen up first?”

“You can freshen up when I’m satisfied that you’re well hydrated and effectively nourished. And when I’m there to make sure you don’t lift a finger.” You opened your mouth to protest, forgetting Spencer’s sixth sense was becoming more perfectly attuned to you by the day. “Doctor’s orders.”

Trying to hide the fondness in your voice you sighed, rolling your eyes theatrically as you tucked yourself up in bed like a princess waiting for her prince. “Well,” you hummed, picturing the moment he’d walk through the door like your knight in shining armour wielding bottles of fruit juice, “I can’t argue with that.”