The Walking Dead Preferences and Imagines

[Daryl One Shot] Daryl Dixon: Virgin? Part II (Mature Fluff)

The following morning you woke up to something stirring underneath you. You gathered your surroundings and realised that you had your side pushed into Daryl's chest. Daryl was moving in his sleep and you lifted up to check that he was okay. He seemed to be dreaming, maybe having a nightmare?
You took in his creased features as you sat up, half-asleep. Suddenly, his eyes shot open and he looked directly ahead of him. After a few seconds his eyes trailed around the room, stopping at your face and comprehending your worried expression.
"You okay?" You ask him, quietly.
"Fine." He mumbles back.
You simply nod and lie down on the sofa, curling your legs up so you didn't disrupt Daryl.

Just resting there for a few minutes, you recalled the events of last night. A realisation came over you in a surge of butterflies as you realised that the man sitting right at the bottom of your feet was in fact now your boyfriend. You scrunched your toes, softly touching the side of his thigh, almost to make sure he was really there. You quickly retreated your foot in the hope of playing it off as an accident. Daryl didn't say anything so you assume you'd gotten away with it. You glanced around the room, the warm dawn swept through the cracks in the curtains, almost giving the room a romantic feel.

After a few moments, the sofa shifts and Daryl stands up. He stretches before heading into the kitchen area, picking up his bag along the way. You stretch out too, pushing your legs down the length of the sofa. Your jeans restrict you a little bit, so you manoeuvre yourself onto your back.

You lie gazing up at the ceiling when Daryl walks back in. He looks down at you and you smile at him. He returns the smile briefly and picks up his crossbow.
"We have to keep movin'" he states.
You gather your things and get ready to leave. Before long, you're both walking through the forest again, searching for the rest of the group. You and Daryl don't speak much, but that's nothing new. You both just continue in comfortable silence before you notice a small tent by itself on the riverbed.
"Hey, Daryl." You speak quietly, pointing to the tent. He spots it and nods at you. You both quietly approach the tent and Daryl signals for you to hang back slightly. He lifts his crossbow to eye level and slowly unzips the side of the tent. He lunges into the tent and you rush to the opening. You look in and catch Daryl's gaze.
"No one here. Few supplies though."
You both pick through the abandoned bags and find a few useful items including an almost empty first aid kit, a camping knife and a few granola bars. Not bad.

You both jump when you hear snarls from outside of the tent, signalling that the dead had found you. You step outside, knife ready to kill the thing. However, when you step out you notice dozens more on the tree line. They haven't noticed you yet, so you swiftly stick your blade in the walker's head and retreat to the tent.
"We have a bit of a situation." You state, careful to keep your voice low so that they do not hear you. Daryl just looks at you, signalling for you to continue. "Dozens of them, at the tree line." You sit down on a sleeping bag, tired of bending over from the low ceiling of the tent.
"We wait it out?" Daryl suggests.
"I guess so." You sigh.
Brilliant. Now you were stuck here for god knows how long! You were glad that you were here with Daryl but you also worried that it could easily become awkward between the two of you.

Daryl lets out a sigh as he sits down in the corner of the tent. He grabs his rag from his back pocket and starts to clean his arrows. Silence fills the tent and you lie back on the sleeping bag. You place your hand on you stomach and instantly cringe when you feel a warm liquid on your shirt. You look at your hand to see the deep red liquid coating your hand.
"Dammit," you sigh, looking down at the blood on your shirt. Daryl looks up you, curious. "Damn walker must've bled on me." You sit up to inspect it further when a pain shoots in your side. You lift your shirt and notice that a wound you had gotten a few days ago had opened and it was in fact your own blood. You had caught your side on a shard of glass when climbing out of a store window on a run with Glenn before you had gotten separated from the group, and it must've opened again when you reached up to stab the walker. "Ah, shit." You say as Daryl crosses the tent and crouches by you. He empties the first aid kit and spots some band aids and a tiny bit of anti-septic cream left in a tube.