The Woman at The End of The World. (Daryl Dixon)

twentyone.

I wake to the smell of coffee. I moan contently. "You're the best!" I grumble over to Daryl. Stretching, I spot him as he sits at the edge of the bed pulling on his shoes. I push the covers off, moving next to him. I wrap my arms around his middle, resting my head on his shoulders.

"Mornin', pretty girl." He smiles, "Get dressed, time for breakfast."

I groan, throwing my legs over the bed. Not only did he make me coffee, but he also placed my clothes on the chair, so I wouldn't have to rummage around. I pull off my shorts, replacing them with my ripped jeans. I grab the hem of the tank top, yanking it off. 

Since we've become close, again, and repaired my friendship with Daryl; I don't feel shy about changing in front of him. I mean, we share a room now for fucks sake. It doesn't help that we are in such close quarters with the rest of the group; it's hard to have some sense of privacy. For me, it's been like that since the farm. I didn't forget that I was on display in front of Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and Maggie when they saved me from Woodbury. 

Turning my back to him, I grab my Avenged Sevenfold shirt, tugging it over my head. I reach for my combat boots, pulling them on. Daryl hands my sword over, I wrap it around my waist. My gun and knife are placed in their spots. I search for my brush, combing through my bed head. Daryl steps behind me, placing my bandanna around my hair, so I won't have it falling into my face. "Thank you."

"I kind of miss the blue." He grips a strand of my brown hair, "this ain't ya."

I laugh, "Maggie said something like that, too."

Daryl and I walk out of the cellblock, heading outside where the others are already enjoying today's breakfast. Daryl grows visibly uncomfortable when everyone stops to greet him. I smile, reaching for his hand to offer some support. This man has come so far. Pride swells in my chest. From what I heard; he was a real jerk when they were at the camp site. A part of me is glad I never met that man. I probably would've knocked him on his ass more than what I already have. 

"Smells good." Daryl compliments Carol when we come to stop at her cooking area. She hands both of us food, smiling. I dig in, making sounds of satisfaction.

"Just so you know, I liked you first." I peer over at him, giggling. "Maybe if you weren't so damn good looking." I wink, grinning at his discomfort.

"Stop." Daryl grumbles as his amused eyes meet mine. "Ya helped, too. Ya know, Rick brought in a lot of them, too."

"Not recently. Give the stranger sanctuary, keeping people fed, you're gonna have to learn to live with the love." Carol laughs at our interaction, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Daryl nods at her words, "right. "

"I need you to see something. Patrick, you want to take over?" Carol calls over to a teenage boy with brown hair and glasses. If I remember correctly, this boy has grown quite close to Carl over the last few weeks. It's refreshing to see the younger Grimes' make friends with those his own age, though, he's still wise beyond his years. 

Patrick saunters over, "yes, ma'am." He faces Daryl and I, "Good morning, Miss. Taylor."

"Vanessa, please. You make me sound so old." I tease, sharing a smile with the younger boy. "I'm only in my late twenty's." I reach over, ruffling his brown hair. 

"Right, Vanessa. Mr. Dixon, I just wanted to thank you for bringing that deer back yesterday. It was a real treat, sir. And I'd be honored to shake your hand."

Daryl peers down at his hand, pondering at the teenager's words. Poor man isn't used to this much attention. He agrees, pointedly licking his fingers before shaking Patrick's hand.