The Walking Dead Imagines

Comfort

You were pulled out of sleep as Merle's body slipped out from underneath your grasp. Your hand curled in the sheets, trying to regain that familiar touch. Your eyes peeked open as you looked up at Merle, whose darkened form was hunched over on the edge of the bed. Stifling a yawn, you pushed yourself up on your hands and crawled over to where he sat. It was the dead of night, but you could still make out his features as your eyes begin to adjust to the darkness.

He didn't make a sound as you scooted up behind him, your legs on either side of his as you pressed your face against his back. Your fingers gingerly brushed over the scars on his back, time having healed the physical reminders of the abuse he endured at the hands of his father, but never the psychological ones.

"Didn't mean to wake ya," Merle mumbled.

You craned your neck up to press soft kisses to the back of his neck as he sighed deeply. "It's fine," you cooed as you wrapped your arms around his torso, rubbing softly over his chest as you felt his heartbeat in your palm.

This wasn't the first time Merle had woken up in the dead of night like this, nor would it be the last. He wouldn't do it often, but every once in a blue moon Merle would stay up the entire night, turning things over and over again in his mind. And every time single time you would stay up with him and keep him company.

You moved your hands from his chest down to his arms, rubbing them comfortingly as you pressed another round of kisses between his shoulder blades. Your hands moved down his arms, stopping when you reached his wrists. Your left hand met the back of his hand, while your right hand slipped around where his hand should have been. It had healed as much as it possibly could, but he still preferred to keep the prosthetic on as often as he could.

He exhaled sharply as you touched the large scar over his wrist. You stopped for a moment, backing off and instead running your fingers through his chest hair. Your left hand found Merle's fingers and squeezed reassuringly.

"Tell me ya need me." His voice barely registered above a whisper, but you had heard him loud and clear. You bit down on your lip, hating to see him upset like this. He was usually so boisterous, confident, and didn't give a fuck what anyone thought of him. During these rare vulnerable moments of his, you were the only one he let witness his insecurities.

You sat up on your knees and swung yourself around until you were straddling his lap. You held his head in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his stubble as you pressed a soft kiss above his brow. He looked up at you expectantly, waiting on your answer.

"I need you Merle. I'll always and forever need you," you whispered before pressing your lips to his. He didn't react with the same fervor as usual when the two of you kissed, he was soft and tender and his arms held you against him. His fingers gripped the back of your night shirt tightly, as if there was a chance you could be ripped away from him at any second.

When your lips parted, Merle rested his head against your shoulder and sighed, enjoying the feel of his lover in his arms. Your hand ran through his short curls as you held him against you. As you gave him another tender peck on his head, you heard Merle murmur, "With all the shit I've done in my life, what the fuck did I do to deserve someone as perfect as you?"

You smiled and tilted his head to look into your eyes as you said, "I'm not perfect Merle. And as much as you worry about your imperfections, you're closest thing I've had to perfect in a long time."

Merle finally cracked a smile. "I can live with that," he said, pulling you back with him onto the mattress.

He guided you to your pillow before curling up on his side and shifting your body to face him. With his arm around your waist, he rested his head against your collarbone. The two of you fell asleep like this, secure and warm in each other's arms, with the knowledge that he needed you just as much as you needed him.