R A N D O M || OS

189. (TWD) Daryl Dixon - Frozen

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Overnight, a heavy blanket of snow covered Alexandria, accompanied with freezing temperatures. It came with no warning. Only the group from Georgia were so unprepared, so confused, and in awe. Most haven't seen this much snow before, including you and Daryl.

When your group managed to leave Georgia and move north, winter clothes were not a priority, especially during the hot summer and fighting off walkers. Out of the group, Daryl had his poncho that was somehow still intact. Everyone else was managing with blankets and staying indoors until winter clothes were delivered to them.

You're huddled in your bed, curled up, the blankets over your head like a shield from the cold. Only it doesn't help. To say you're freezing is an understatement: you felt the cold in your bones, you could feel the tip of your nose and fingertips going numb. And all you could think was how you've never felt so cold like this in your life...and how much you miss heating.

God, you're miserable. Daryl and Rick said they would be back soon with warm clothes, but that was hours ago. You think. You're too cold to move to check your watch; afraid that the slightest movement would lose the little heat you had. And you swear, every time you breathed out you saw your breath-

The door opens outside, and you wince. A cold wind would surely make its way to your room, brought by Daryl himself. You don't get up to meet him, you resort to staying in your curled up position, as stiff as you were. His footsteps are getting closer, and you're thankful that he took his shoes off. The last thing you needed was melted snow and slush in your room.

He's carrying bundles of clothes, and you notice his face is slightly red from the wind outside. And he's layered with coats and gloves, even a hat on his head.

"There's something I thought I'd never see," you say from your spot, and Daryl looks down at you, almost pathetically. "Can say the same for ya," he replies, voice laced with sarcasm and teasing. As always.

"I'm trying to...," you pause before finally muttering, "burrow."

Daryl actually smirks at you. "Burrow? You ain't an animal."

You don't answer, even when Daryl plops the bundle of clothes on the bed. "C'mon, sit up," Daryl says as he sorts through the pile. When you don't move, Daryl swipes the blankets from your body, and you let out a shriek of shock. It's so much colder, and your teeth immediately start to chatter.

"Yer wearin' shorts?"

"Yes! I am! Because they're my pajama shorts!" You shout, embarrassed, grabbing at some jeans Daryl was holding, but he grabs them back. "Those are mine," he snaps. "This is yer pile."

You swing your legs over the bed and onto the floor, squeaking as your bare feet touch the ground. Tiptoeing towards your pile of clothes, Daryl sits on your bed, sighing as he takes off his first layer of gloves, then his second, until his hands are revealed.

You finally find a pair of pants that seem warm enough, as well as a sweater and jacket and socks. Daryl brought a lot back, as usual.

"Thanks for getting me thESE-" you shriek again as Daryl puts his freezing hand right on your bare thigh. You jerk away, swatting him furiously with your pants. "Cold!" You yelp, slinking back towards the door. He's shyly grinning, and you barely see it but it's there, and you blush before you dart from the room.

You change quickly in the bathroom, your face still burning furiously. Daryl touched your thigh. As a friend. Just to be funny; to get a reaction from you. Your thoughts are going a mile a minute, and before you leave the bathroom, you whisper, "Daryl is just a friend."

Daryl is laying on your bed when you come back. You toss your new winter clothes into some drawers, and when you finish, you sit on the foot of your bed, far away from Daryl as possible. If he touched you like that again, you'd explode.

Daryl sits up as you sit down, however, and he's right at your side now, very close to you. You feel your face getting hot again, and you fidget.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his eyes concentrated on you, as if trying to figure you out.

"My hands are cold," you blurt out, and you move your palms together to make a show of it, and he lets out a laugh. He knows your bullshitting, he can see right through you.

As he stops laughing at your poor attempt to cover yourself, he takes your hand in his larger one. "Better?"

Your face burns as you nod, staring at his hand holding your own. He holds it gently, thumb moving across the back of your hand. He looks at you, but you avoid his gaze, continuing to stare at his hand. You watch carefully as he used his other hand move towards your chin. He uses his fingers to tilt your chin so you're looking at him, but your eyes quickly glance away.

"Look at me," his voice is soft, like his hands. Your eyes instantly meet his, and you wonder why you can't speak. It's like his gaze renders you speechless and floundering like a fish out of water.

You can't help but blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "For some strange reason my lips are cold too." His eyes widen slightly, out of amusement or surprise, you don't know.

His fingers are tracing your cheek then down to your jawline, and he's leaning in slowly, your noses brush, and his lips are on yours. They feel cold, but it's instantly replaced by warmth as you kiss him back, his hand holding yours tightly.

He pulls away with a small smirk on his face, and you suddenly realize that he always wanted to do that. The small glances he sent your way, the fact that he gets you winter clothes, and the way he touched your thigh...it wasn't as a friend.

"Kiss me again," you say, and his eyes are bright now, the smirk never leaving his face as he cups your cheek to kiss you.