The Walking Dead Imagines (Requests OPEN)

[Daryl Dixon] Worth a Shot

This one is super interesting to write and weird at the same time. Hope you enjoy!
PROMPT:
The group is at ease when a woman with heels arrives at Alexandria and tells them that the apocalypse is over, that the cure has been found and there is room at her safe haven for everybody. This puts a spanner in the works with you and Daryl- because when survival isn't in the books, you're forced to become a real couple.

"This is nice." You say, sitting down on the comfortable and extremely large sofa.
Daryl nods, a towel loosely wrapped around the bottom half of his body.
A year ago you'd have felt uncomfortable seeing so much of him and he'd have felt uncomfortable and insecure in front of you.
But you two had been a couple for a while now and you'd been through hells end together. It was nice being together as well, knowing that no matter what, you could be you and he could be himself.
He'd opened up to you as well. Not many people knew the Daryl Dixon you knew. That went both ways.

You tossed him his clean clothes from a pile on the arm of the sofa and he caught them, returning back into your bedroom to get changed. You lied back on the sofa and ran your fingers through your hair. Your clean, brushed, conditioned hair.
It was over. All of it. The fighting. The death...the walkers. At least for you it was.
Her name was Elizabeth Rodriguez- and she'd been married to a man who worked in finding cures for viruses. He died during the making of the cure- but it was completed.
A needle was infected into your whole group- and after that, no matter how you died, you wouldn't come back as one of them. As a walker.
This didn't change the fact that walkers could still bite you and with the bite came impending death with fever. There was no cure for the fever but the fever and the virus worked together, so without the virus, the fever could be treated with numerous antibiotics if attended to in time.
Everyone resided in a tall building with high rise walls. Elizabeth Rodriguez and her men had built that wall from the beginning, with supplies that were almost invincible.
Where they were right now was the end. The absolute end- and that feeling that you got in Alexandria, the feeling of being safe but not fully safe, that feeling had disappeared.
You were safe. Finally.

The group had all split up and taken different apartments and you and Daryl had decided to stay together almost by default.
But with safety came a weird feeling to your relationship. What was it without the survival? You loved each other, that could never change- but now without the struggles that behind those walls proved, you were forced to do things real couples do.
Make dinner for each other, talk about things other than survival. It all seemed so distant. It occurred to you that you'd never done this kind of stuff with him before. It was new territory.

He came out of the room with new clothes on. A plain black t-shirt and jeans. His other clothes had been thrown away due to contamination risks and it was weird seeing him in such unfamiliar clothes.
"You look nice." You told him, smiling at him. He sighed.
"I look like a damn school boy, that's what I look like." He growled. You stood up, grinning like crazy.
"Yeah, well I think you look great. Come on, let's make dinner." You lead him over to the kitchen, which is the kind of kitchen only rich people had. You pulled out dishes and passed them to him. He took them in his arms and placed them on the counter.
"What're we making?" He mumbles. You fish through the fridge and pull out a packet of spaghetti.
"Pasta." You say, placing that on the table. "Can you heat up the water?"
He nods, doing that. You still can't stop smiling. You were cooking with him. If you were told a year ago that you'd be cooking with him in your own apartment, you'd never believe it.
Something told you Daryl would be a good cook, you kind of had this crazy idea that he'd have a few tricks up his sleeves.
"You know what..." You say, reaching up to the top of the cabinet and pulling out a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.
"How about you make it."

He looked up from the stove at you for a second and had an unreadable look on his face. You grinned at him, amused.
"Do I look like I know how to make some damn Fettucine all'Alfredo?" He says, mispronouncing the French dish. You chuckle.
"Hey, just give it a go. I feel like you'd be good at it."
He sighed again, noticing how much you were enjoying this. He poured the pasta into the pot and searching the fridge for pasta sauce.
"Okay well, I'll start by pouring in the a'la cabonara sauce." He mocked, taking the bottle of Carbonara sauce and pouring it into the pan with the not cooked spaghetti.
"Uh oh." You mumble. That's not how you do it...
He pulled out a capsicum out of the fridge and began to cut it.
He then put the capsicum into the water and together you watched it boil.
"Okay." He mutters, waiting a few minutes before draining the water out of the pot.
"It's ready."

You smirk, leaning over his shoulder and looking down at the dish.
"It looks amazing." You tell him, smuggling a laugh. You grab two forks out of the cabinet and hand one to him.
"Here. Try it first." You say. He takes the pasta out of the pot and puts it in his mouth. You begin to tell him it's hot but he dismisses you. He chews on it.
"Know what?" He says, continuing to chew on it. "While this is the best damn pasta I've ever tasted, I think we should..." He opens up the freezer and pulls out a frozen pizza "stick with a pizza. And your cooking breakfast in the morning?" He says.
You smile at him, taking the pizza from his arms and placing a kiss on his cheek.
"Deal."

You know, apocalypse or not, Daryl is probably still the best man on earth for you.
Still.