twd one-shots

speak up - daryl dixon

"Don't mean I gotta say nothin'," he mumbled, quieter than usual.

"Well, someone else might..." Maggie trailed off, her eyebrows raised high.

"Hell's tha' mean?"

"We're not blind, Daryl, and our neighbours aren't either," Carol shrugged, nonchalant, "she's a catch. You're not the only one that notices that, you know."

"Right," Daryl scoffed, finally dropping the stubborn pan into the bath of suds, "Don't see how tha's my problem,"

"Oh, so if Mark asked 'er out, ya'd have no problem with tha'?" Maggie challenged.

Daryl went silent.

"'Cause, he asked me if she was seein' someone, y'know."

His eyes raised to Maggie's face, dread pooling in his gut at her serious expression.

"Oh, of course, he did. He acts like a teenager every time she comes around," Carol rolled her eyes as Daryl just watched them, incredulous.

Daryl interrupted their exchange, "Stop," he demanded, feeling his jaw tighten at the idea of another man making the move he'd been too insecure to make. His anxiety worsened, self-doubt boiled into scolding self-ridicule, pissed at himself for being so damn stupid and so damn awkward that he couldn't just tell you he cared. No, he was left to whatever act of service he mustered up that day. The flowers. Cooking breakfast and cleaning so you got to sleep in. Sharpening your knives after you remarked doing so made your hand cramp. His doubts had delayed what he wanted to do, to say, and if this Mark guy beat him to it? He didn't know how to deal with that— the idea of you— of him— no, he couldn't think about that right now, not unless he wanted to crush the glass in his hands.

"Wha' are y'all aimin' for 'ere?" he drawled, as intimidating as he could be with pink cheeks and soapy suds up his arms.

"Oh, nothing," Carol leaned her elbows against the counter, seemingly unfazed as she rested her chin in her hands, "it would be a shame if she decided without knowing all her options, though."

Daryl eyed her, jaw rigid and chest tight with dread.

"It's been obvious tha' ya like 'er since 'fore we left Georgia, Daryl," Maggie sighed, "yer a good man. The type'a man she deserves."

Carol added, "A guy who brings her flowers or sharpens her knives—"

"— or tucks her in on the couch," Maggie continued.

"You just have to get over this grumbling thing you got going on," Carol mimicked his low drawl, but it only made Maggie chuckle, "just speak to her."

"Tell 'er she looks nice," Maggie suggested, a wide and encouraging smile on her face, "ya already admitted it."

Daryl could barely register how those words made him feel; if their suggestion was turning his opinion on the matter, or if it made him feel more cornered than encouraged. Before he knew it, their eyes snapped to the staircase where the sounds of your light steps began.

Without so much as a hint of an idea about the conversation they'd all been having, you came down the stairs. Three sets of eyes were glued on you when you reached the bottom.

You stopped, lips curling into a surprised and appreciative smile— Daryl had a way of distinguishing them, of course— as you looked around the room. Oblivious to the way they were all watching you.

"Wow, thanks for cleaning up."

"'S no bother," Daryl shrugged, looking to the tidy counters as if it really was no big deal, but he could almost hear his heartbeat, growing faster and faster with every step you took forward.

You walked over to Daryl's side, across from Carol and Maggie who sat at the kitchen's island; Carol still sipping on her tea and Maggie finishing her last bites.

"Ya, uh, look nice," Daryl stuttered under the anticipating stares of his well-meaning friends.

You looked down at your tattered pants and plain, dark top, and raised a brow, "My hunting clothes?"

"Uh, yeah, they look good," Daryl shifted, his skin hot under the hand at the back of his neck, trying to rub away his awkwardness— apparently, "good for huntin', blendin' into the trees n' all tha'."

"Um, thanks. Glad I have the hunter's seal of approval," you grinned, a hint of that laugh he loved hanging off your words, "you look good too."

Daryl copied you, looking down to his navy sleeveless top, a vest he hadn't washed since... he couldn't remember... and the only pair of pants he had, covered in Carol's patchwork. He expected that laugh again, this time teasing, but when he looked back at you, your smile was nothing but genuine.

Carol was right. Something about the way the morning light hit you, the refreshed look in your eyes from a good night's sleep, was quite pretty.

Breathtaking, really.

"Ready?" you asked, your hand casually dragging across the width of his shoulders as you passed behind him, making your way to the front door.

Just like that day you hugged him, Daryl stayed silent. Until his eye caught Carol and Maggie's coy grins long enough to find the breath your smile took from him. He followed you, still as nervous as ever, but with new determination in his step.

Daryl Dixon wasn't any good with words, but for you, he'd try his hardest.

"Ready."

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A/N: daryl is 100% a love in silence guy, thank you very much.

also daryl took reader to the daffodils on their lil hunt and confessed very awkwardly and she smiled and they kissed and they came back to alexandria and carol/maggie could tell right away and teased them (respectfully) and they are so smitten... okay? okay.

if you're reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this fic. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3