Party for Two

We'd been at Alexandria for a few days, trying to settle in, work the place out.

I was beginning to warm to the tiny town, but it needed more than a few changes before we could commit to staying long-term:

Stronger defences. Weapons training. Residents who had a damn clue...

Daryl was finding it harder to see the potential in the town than the rest of us. I saw it in the way his eyes never stopped scanning for danger, how he kept himself separate from the Alexandrians, how quiet he was.

I knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He didn't have to say a word. This place didn't fit him, and he sure as hell didn't fit it.

He was trying, though. For me.

That made my heart ache.

We didn't need to check the perimeter again - not really - but I knew he needed to escape for a while.

I hated the weight I could see hanging over him. I hoped an hour not feeling caged in would help him breathe.

As we passed by the gate, where Sasha stood watch, she had the same wary expression I wore, like she expected the dream to crumble at any second. I nodded to her, and she nodded back, our understanding unspoken.

Rick was up ahead as we re-entered, speaking with Michonne near the church. When he spotted us, he lifted his chin.

"These people need training," I said before he could even ask how we were settling in. "They don't know what they're doing."

Rick sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard. "Deanna thinks they'll panic if we push too hard."

Daryl scoffed, kicking a rock with the toe of his boot. "Ain't like we're askin' 'em to start shootin' each other."

Rick gave him a long look - I wasn't the only aware of how much he was struggling here. "I'll push harder. But you two need to explore the neighbourhood - at least pretend to show some interest, instead of just roaming outside the walls every chance you get."

I wanted to argue, but he was right. I'd had a little walk around yesterday morning, turning a few corners, but I hadn't explored properly. Daryl hadn't yet ventured further than the distance between the house and the gate.

Carol walked by, dressed in that soft sweater, playing the part of harmless homemaker. She gave me the smallest smirk before heading toward the pantry, probably to sweet-talk her way into more supplies. It was a damn good act.

I reached for Daryl's hand, hoping to reassure him that things would work out. "Walk with me a little?"

He nodded reluctantly, and his fingers curled around mine, holding on tight as though he needed to protect me.

I'd known he wouldn't settle here easily. I knew he'd always be looking over his shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I felt the same anxiety.

But for the first time in a long while, we had a chance at something close to a home. Time on the road had been tough for all of us, and the thought of being able to enjoy life, here, with my husband, was a much better plan than just relentlessly fighting to survive. There'd always walkers, risk, violence - but here, there could also be so much more on top of that.

As we made our way through the community, I took in the small details - the rust on the gates, the worn patches in the grass where feet had tread too often, the nervous glances exchanged between long-time residents when they thought we weren't looking.

These people wanted to believe in the illusion of safety, but they hadn't seen what we had.

We heard the yelling before we saw what was happening...

Daryl and I both reached for our concealed knives when we heard the commotion, our instincts flaring. We pushed through the growing crowd by the gate in time to see Deanna's son Aiden taking a swing at Glenn.

Glenn, Noah and Tara had gone out on a basic run with Aiden and another Alexandrian - Nicholas - to try get a grasp on how these people reacted around walkers.

By the looks of it, the answer was - not well.

Glenn ducked, quick and sure, and countered with a punch that sent Aiden stumbling back. Nicholas lurched forward to intervene, but Daryl was already moving.

"Back off," Daryl growled, stepping between Glenn, Aiden and Nicholas before things got worse. I followed, my eyes locking onto Aiden's furious expression.

Aiden wiped at his mouth, glaring at Glenn. "You had no right to kill it! That was my trophy!"

Glenn stood his ground, fists still clenched. "That thing almost killed Tara! You left it alive for what? Some sick game?"

Nicholas moved beside Aiden again, chest puffed out like he was ready to jump in. He glared at me - and the second he did, Daryl was on him, pinning him to the ground, his eyes menacing.

Rick fought to pull him off. "Do not do this now." He begged, unable to break Daryl's grasp on the man now whimpering on the floor.

I didn't intervene. The asshole deserved whatever he got, and Daryl needed to let off some steam. I wasn't getting involved.

"Athena." Rick urged me to do something.

I stared at him before shaking my head.

The tension crackled, thick and unrelenting, until a firm voice cut through it. "Enough."

Deanna stepped forward, commanding silence without raising her voice. The crowd hushed instantly, all eyes on her. I saw a handful of other residents standing off to the side, their faces wary. Deanna's gaze swept over the scene, then landed on Aiden.

Daryl finally let go of Nicholas. Moving to my side with his breath still heaving. I rubbed his shoulder, feeling his hot skin. He was still furious.

"I heard what happened," she said, her voice calm but edged with steel. "This isn't a game, Aiden."

Aiden sputtered, his face turning red. "But-"

She held up a hand, silencing him. Then she turned to Glenn. "You and your people are survivors. You know what it takes. And that's why I'm making this clear to everyone - Rick's group are to be treated as equals."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Aiden looked like he wanted to argue, but one look at his mother, and he backed down.

She turned her attention to Rick and Michonne. "I want you both to be Alexandria's security - cops of a sense. You understand how to keep order in a world like this."

Rick nodded, his expression unreadable. Michonne met Deanna's gaze, considering, then nodded, too. "We'll do what needs to be done."

"I haven't forgotten about you two." Deanna told Daryl and I as she passed. "You'll have your roles soon enough."

"Great." I muttered sarcastically under my breath.

~

That night, back at the house we were all still crammed into, Rick and Michonne came downstairs in their new uniforms. The sight of them in something so official was almost jarring.

"Here come the strippers." I snorted.

Michonne attempted a sexy dance, stopping herself with her own laughter.

Carol stood near the door, arms crossed, she tilted her head, beckoning Daryl and I into the kitchen, before doing the same to Rick and Michonne.

"Carl's right to worry this place will make us weak." She told the four of us once the rest of the group was out of earshot. "We can't let that happen."

Rick adjusted his belt, his expression hard. "We won't get weak. That's not in us anymore. We'll make it work. And if we can't?" He looked between us, voice steady. "Then we'll just take this place."

Daryl nodded slightly, but I could see the tension in his jaw. I stayed quiet, feeling the weight of the moment settle over us. This wasn't just about Alexandria anymore. It was about what came next.

"We need our weapons back." I announced. "We shouldn't have handed them over."

"She's right." Daryl agreed. He may have refused to relinquish his crossbow again, but he wanted his gun, wanted me to be properly armed.

Rick looked like he was about to argue, then nodded.

"We need to do it sooner rather than later. Right now they're not watching us. Not worrying about meetings like this. We may need the guns, we may not."

I knew there was still some doubt in him about this place. He'd tried hard to hide it, but there it was.

"We'll need them whichever way it goes." Carol uttered.

Rick sighed. "They're the luckiest damn people I ever met, these Alexandrians. And they just keep getting luckier."

"How's that?" Daryl asked him.

"We're here now." Rick said plainly.

He was right. These people had been incredibly lucky to live in a place relatively unaffected by the undead, but it was only a matter of time before shit inevitably hit the fan. Our presence here might just be the only reason they'd survive.

Later that night, Daryl and I sat on the porch of the house we were all sharing, listening to the soft hum of Alexandria around us. A distant laugh, the clinking of dishes, the gentle rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.

Daryl leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl upward.

"You think we can all stop sharing this damn house soon?" I asked him.

He shrugged, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Ready to get some sleep?" I continued, just wanting to curl up with him, help him forget the stress he was feeling.

"Yeah." He mumbled.

We curled up together in the corner of the living room, some of the others already snoring away. He held me like he always did, one arm tucked tightly around my waist, but there were none of the delicate kisses to my shoulder and neck he normally offered as he pressed into me, or whispers in my ear.

His body was rigid, too much on his mind.

I don't think either of us slept much at all.

~

"A damn party?" I heard Daryl mutter in disbelief as Rick told him about Deanna's invitation. I was sitting on the porch, but the open window allowed me to overhear their conversation.

"Yup. A cocktail party." Rick sighed. "She wants her people to get to know us."

"I ain't goin' to no cocktail party." Daryl spat back, a little more aggressively than necessary.

"Look. I'm not asking you to be the bartender. I just think you guys should come. Make an effort."

"Nah. No way."

The door swung open, and Daryl stormed out, stopping when he saw me and dropping his eyes to the ground.

"You really don't like cocktails, huh?" I asked lightly.

He didn't respond but took a seat next to me, head down.

I reached out and tilted his chin to face me. "Nobody's going to make you go."

He tried to force a wry smile, pulling out a cigarette.

"You goin'?" he asked quietly.

"Not without you."

"Ya can still go. Don't have to hang around me."

"Daryl." I waited until he turned to face me. "Why would I want to go mingle with a bunch of strangers, making pointless small talk, when I can take advantage of an empty house with my hot as hell husband?"

He smirked but tried to hide it. "I don't wanna stop ya goin', if ya want to..."

"I don't." I answered honestly, but I am gonna need your help with something..."

~

Once night had fallen, Daryl and I kept to the shadows, skulking through the streets of Alexandria in an effort not to be seen. This was possibly the most important mission we'd undertaken together, and there was no room for error.

At. All.

"Ya gonna tell me what the hell we're doin'?" he whispered from behind me.

"Shhh." I responded. "You'll see."

When we reached the house that was our target. I halted. "Cover me."

"What?" Daryl asked, growing increasingly frustrated with my secrecy. "Tell me why."

"You're on lookout." I told him authoritatively.

"Ath. I've got yur back, but ya need to tell me what's goin' on. I'm not stayin' outside while ya run into somethin' ya haven't told me about."

"I can't. Just trust me."

As we crept around the back of the house, familiar voices sounded.

"I am a large man, and I have had many beers to make up for that." Abraham slurred, knocking something over."

"Told you they had beer." Rosita giggled back.

I raised my eyebrows. It was only early. How they'd got drunk so quickly bemused me.

"This is the party... Ya tryna trick me?" Daryl scowled, looking between me and the open window Abraham and Rosita were now hysterically laughing behind.

"No." I assured him. "We're going to have our own..."

Understanding dawned on his face with a quiet chuckle as he shook his head. "Yur crazy, woman."

"Yes. That's why you love me. So cover me."

I dipped inside the house, army crawling along the kitchen floor to avoid detection by Abraham and Rosita, who were now sucking each other's faces.

I unzipped my pack and started my mission.

I emerged a few minutes later, victorious. I grabbed Daryl's hand and led him back to the porch of our group's cramped, shared house.

I cackled as I pulled the bottle of Whiskey from my bag and waggled it in front of him. "Mission successful."

Daryl raised an eyebrow, a laugh escaping him. "Knew ya were after booze."

"These people owe us," I said, plopping down beside him on the floor of the dimly lit porch. "For subjecting us to their weird small talk and overly enthusiastic welcomes. I swiped loads of snacks, too."

I tipped the rest of my steals onto the floor - potato chips, pretzels, nuts. We really were having a party.

Daryl huffed a chuckle and took the bottle from me, turning it over in his hands. "This a good idea?"

"It's a great idea." I grinned and nudged him with my shoulder. "C'mon, Mr. Dixon. Live a little."

That was all it took. He popped the cap, took a swig, and almost immediately, I witnessed his shoulders ease a few centimetres.

My plan was working.

I snatched it back from him and took a long drink, coughing as the burn hit my throat. "Booyah!" I spluttered in homage to the first time we ever shared whiskey together at the CDC.

"Booyah." He smiled in response, his face looking younger already.

We passed the bottle back and forth, the warmth settling in, relaxing us in a way Alexandria hadn't managed to yet.

It wasn't long before Daryl leaned his head back against the wall, sighing. "M'sorry I've been..." he trailed off.

I turned my head toward him. "Grumpier than usual?"

He dropped his eyes to the floor. "Mhmh."

"I get it. I know this place isn't what we're used to."

"Yeah."

"I can also see how hard you've been trying."

He was quiet for a moment, rolling the bottle between his hands. "All this..." He gestured vaguely around us. "It ain't me." His voice lowered. "I dunno how to make ma'self fit... I ain't changin'."

My heart sank. "Daryl, you fit with me. And you never need to change who you are - for anyone."

His eyes dropped to the floor, and I knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth.

"It's like ya belong here, 'n' I don't."

I set the bottle aside and reached for his hand, gripping it tight. "That's bullshit. The only place I belong is with you."

He sighed, his cheeks rosy from the whiskey that was helping him open up. "Keep thinkin' this'll be where ya finally realize I don't deserve ya."

"You think living here will change how I feel about you?" I squeezed his fingers, willing him to understand. "That would never happen."

His throat bobbed like he was swallowing down emotions he didn't know what to do with. "C'mon, Ath. Ya'd never have looked twice at me before all this."

"Daryl! Are you for real!?" I exclaimed, exasperated. "I'd have been all over that sexy body, your beautiful face, those freakin' arms. I'd have wanted my hands on you no matter when or how I met you!"

He flushed a little.

"That's if I could have got anywhere near you with all the women already leering over you." I added.

He shook his head before looking up at me through his hair. His eyes fixed on me. "Ain't no woman ever looked at me. Not until you."

It actually hurt my heart that he believed that.

"You're insane." I told him. "Blind too. I refuse to believe you didn't have admirers all over the place. You were just too daft to see it... although I am kinda glad. I wouldn't want to have to beat bitches up."

He chuckled.

"I married you, Daryl. Not just for the end of the world. For everything. This place, wherever we end up next - it doesn't matter. You're it for me."

He nodded, but I could still see it. Doubt.

Words weren't cutting it. I needed to show him.

I pulled myself into his lap, kissing him hard, possessively, showing him he was mine. He groaned into my mouth, his hands clinching my waist, as mine framed his face.

He let out a deep breath against my lips, some of that weight lifting from him.

But I didn't stop. I kissed him harder, more deeply. Willing him to accept my dedication to him.

"I love ya." He rasped as we pulled apart and I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

I cupped his face again, my eyes burning into his. "I love you, always. Now get up. We're gonna get some fancy-looking glasses, a blanket and get cozy on an actual real-life couch..."

~

The whiskey was going down a little too well as we sat in the pristine living room, the white walls lacking the mess of guts and gore we were used to seeing everywhere we looked.

The alcohol was definitely taking affect now, and I was starting to get silly.

The luxurious couch suddenly felt too soft, like it was trying to swallow me whole, and Daryl - slumped beside me - was halfway to melting into the cushions.

"This couch is suspicious," I announced, poking it with one finger.

Daryl blinked slowly. "Why?"

"'Cause it's too nice. Too... cushiony. What if it's a trap?"

He squinted at me, sarcasm evident in his tone. "Shit. Ya think the whole damn house is a trap?"

"Could be." I waved an unsteady hand at the too-perfect living room. "Like, what if we wake up and this is all a dream? What if-" I gasped dramatically. "What if we're already dead?"

Daryl groaned, rubbing his face. "Yur doin' that thing where you start talkin' total nonsense."

"It's not nonsense, it's philosophy, dumbass."

He snorted. "Ain't philosophy, it's drunk Athena talk."

I ignored him and pointed at the bottle on the table, which we had nearly finished. "You should pour us more."

He rolled his head toward me, eyes half-lidded. I wasn't the only one feeling intoxicated. "Ya got hands."

I wobbled forward, grabbed the bottle, and immediately knocked over the candle I'd lit earlier in an attempt to make it romantic.

"Shit!"

Daryl moved to catch it, but in his drunken state, he ended up knocking it further across the table, where it rolled dramatically before landing with a soft thump on the carpet.

We both froze, waiting for huge flames to start sizzling.

Silence.

"...We almost burned down the fancy house," I whispered.

Daryl nodded solemnly. "They woulda kicked us out for sure."

"Or executed us."

"Damn."

For a long moment, we just stared at the candle, now lying there like it had personally betrayed us. Then, Daryl snorted.

I gasped. "Are you laughing? That could've been very serious."

His shoulders shook as he tried to stifle his laughter, but the more he held it in, the funnier it got. The sight of him, all red-faced and hunched over, set me off too. Before I knew it, I was cackling, clutching my stomach while tears formed in my eyes.

"This is it," I wheezed. "This is how we die. Burnt alive in a fancy-ass house all because we got drunk."

Daryl was practically wheezing now as he picked up the somehow still alight candle and replaced it on the table. "Tell Rick... tell Rick we went out fightin'."

That sent me into another fit of laughter, and I lost what little balance I had left. We were suddenly on the couch, me lying sideways with my legs draped over his lap.

He looked down at me. "Ya comfortable?"

I nodded sagely. "Very."

His hand landed on my knee, warm and calloused. "Good. 'Cause I ain't movin'."

"Good," I said, reaching for my glass and missing by a solid three inches

Daryl snorted, grabbed the glass for me, and placed it directly in my hands like I was an incompetent toddler. I cradled it with great care, then promptly forgot what I was doing with it.

"Wait," I muttered, my brain struggling to find a thought. "Do you ever think about... about, uh..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ya forget what ya was sayin'?"

I stared at him. "Yes."

That set him off laughing again, and I swatted his chest, which only made him laugh harder. I let out a dramatic groan and flopped further into the couch.

"You're the sexiest man in the world, Daryl Dixon." I announced adamantly.

Daryl, still grinning, leaned his head back and sighed. "That's the whiskey talkin'."

"Nah," I said, poking his cheek. "The whiskey is talkin' right now though, and it says you're cute."

He batted my hand away, but I saw the little smirk he was trying to hide. "Stop."

A few minutes passed, the laughter settling into something softer. My fingers traced idle patterns on his knee and my head rested against the back of the couch now. The warmth of the whiskey was still in my chest.

"Y'know," I murmured, "I think we should play truth or dare... only I can't be bothered to move to do the dares. So I guess just truth."

Daryl glanced at me, his drunken haze lifting just a little. "What?"

"Let's ask each other questions and we have to answer honestly."

He groaned. "That's just talkin'. We're already talkin'."

I waved my hand in a wobbly circle. "Yeah, but structured talkin'."

He huffed, but I caught the corner of his mouth twitching. "Fine. Ya go first."

"Hmmm." I pondered. "Would you rather have arms made out of spaghetti, or legs made from lead."

Daryl spat his drink everywhere. "Ya made me waste it." He chastised, but with a chuckle.

"You've gotta answer."

He thought about it for a moment, then said seriously. "Spaghetti arms could be handy."

"Okay." I nodded in agreement. Now you ask me a question..."

He rubbed his face and leaned back against the couch. "Ya ever steal anythin' weird?"

That made me pause. "Huh." I tapped my chin, thinking. "I did end up with a taxidermy crocodile once."

He blinked. "What?"

I grinned. "Yeah. One of those stuffed ones on a wooden base. It was only smallish. I was at a party and it was just sittin' on a shelf." I shrugged. "It was lookin' at me funny, so I took it."

He stared at me. Then, after a long beat, he burst out laughing.

"Ya stole a crocodile?" he wheezed.

I crossed my arms. "It was a weird-lookin' crocodile."

"Goddamn." He shook his head, still chuckling.

I thought for a second, then pointed at him. "What's the dumbest thing you ever did as a kid?"

He snorted. "Shit, I dunno. Probably when Merle dared me to jump off the roof with a damn umbrella."

I gasped. "What!?"

"Asshole said it would make me fly" He nodded sagely. "Broke ma wrist."

"Holy shit," I said, staring at him. "How old were you?"

"'Bout six."

I let out a long, slow whistle. "And you lived?"

He scoffed. "Obviously."

I smacked his arm. "Alright, your turn."

"Ya ever piss the bed as an adult?" he jested.

I cackled loudly. "Yes." He looked disgusted. "Once. I was very drunk and I was laughing in my dream."

"Don't be laughin' in yur sleep tonight..."

I rolled my eyes, readying to take my turn. I hummed in thought, then decided to go deeper. "What was the best day of your life?"

Daryl's blinked at me like I had just hit him with a hammer. "Shit," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

After a few moments, he replied, his voice more quiet than it had been. "The day ya said ya'd be my wife."

I tilted my head, my heart leaping. "Yeah?"

He nodded, dropping his head. "Yeah. Never felt nothin' like when ya said yes. Wanted ta burst." He admitted, taking a long sip of his drink.

I squeezed his hand. "That's mine too."

"Nah," He muttered. "Ya gotta choose a different one... Best day of ya life?"

I smiled faintly. "The first time I met you."

He scoffed. "Bullshit."

I held up a hand. "I mean it." I turned to face him fully, my head propped against the couch. "That was the day my life changed."

Daryl looked away, shaking his head. "Was a dick when we met."

I grinned. "Yeah. But you were my dick."

He choked on a laugh, rubbing his face. "Shit."

I laughed too, but then my voice softened. "I mean it, though." I rubbed his arm. "I didn't have much to live for back then. I was just... existing. Surviving. But when I met you, suddenly, I wanted to live. I didn't realize then why, but I felt something change."

Daryl was quiet. He stared at me, his blue eyes hazy but intense. Then, after a long beat, he muttered, "Same."

"That why it took you a year to kiss me?"

He clapped a hand over his eyes.

"Alright," I said, knowing he didn't want to talk about it. "Whose turn is it..? I'll go... What's your biggest regret?"

He swallowed hard, rubbing his face, like he didn't know whether to answer honestly or not.

"Come on." I encouraged. "Tell me."

Finally, he sighed, fidgeting with his glass and not looking at me.

"Fighting how I felt about ya for so long..."

I didn't say anything. I just smiled.

He chewed on his thumbnail for a moment. Then he spoke softly, "I wanted ya from the moment I met ya. Just couldn't admit it to myself. 'N' never thought ya'd look at someone like me."

I looked at him adoringly. "Really?"

He nodded, firm. "Yep. When ya appeared in those woods. It made my head spin. Then, when ya stayed in Atlanta with me to look for Merle... Fuck. I shit myself."

Something tightened in my throat. I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

"I knew too. One of my first thoughts was how much I wanted to sit on your face."

"Fuck's sake." He spluttered.

For a long moment, we just sat there, the game forgotten.

Daryl cleared his throat, bringing us back to the game. "Alright," he muttered. "One more. What's somethin' ya ain't never told me before?"

I bit my lip, considering. There wasn't much he didn't know about me at this point. But then, after a moment, I answered, taking my opportunity to be completely honest.

"It hurts when you doubt my love for you."

I could actually feel his heart sinking. I wished I'd just said something stupid instead...

"Sorry." I told him. "Should have just said it was that I don't understand the big fuss about Oreos. I didn't mean to kill the vibe."

"Ath," he mumbled quietly after a period of awkward silence. "M'sorry. It ain't 'cause of ya. It's me. I'm fucked up."

I didn't know what to say. I rubbed my hand over his gently instead.

The awkwardness continued.

"I know ya love me."

"I do." I nodded.

"Just ma stupid fuckin' head..."

"I know." I smiled reassuringly. "I get it."

"I din't know it hurt ya. Knew ya thought I was stupid - but I didn't mean to upset ya by sayin' it."

"If you're thinking it. You can tell me. Of course you can. I just wish you didn't think it at all."

He lifted his eyes to mine, vulnerability evident in them "Me too."

Way to kill the vibe, drunk Athena.

"Did I ruin our night?" I asked, my voice a little shaky.

"Nah." He gripped my hand tighter before pulling it up to his lips. "It's good ya told me."

"You sure?"

"Yeah... I do know ya love me, Ath. I ain't meanin' it like that."

I kissed him softly. "I guess I'll just have to keep telling you."

He kissed me back, his hand cupping my head gently.

"I love it when ya tell me..." He said quietly, his face inches from mine. "It ain't just that, though. I see it in ya. How ya care for me. It's in the way ya are with me. Ain't never felt anythin' like it."

I smiled. "Then I guess I'll keep showing you.

I kissed him again, deeper, showing him.

"Daryl..." I whispered when we broke apart.

"Mhmh?"

"How am I only just noticing that record player?

He peered across the lowly-lit room, his eyes landing on the old record player that sat nestled on a bookshelf - a small stack of vinyls perched next to it.

Daryl made his way over to the ancient looking device, lingering there for a moment, examining if it would work. He seemed satisfied, and his fingers began lightly skimming over the albums, as if he were deciding which one to play. I watched as he dismissed record after record, looking unimpressed.

"Nothing to your taste?" I asked, draining my glass.

"Not yet."

I pondered for a moment.

"If we'd had a wedding song. What would you have chosen?"

"Uh, I dunno..." he looked at me. "Ya got one?"

"Nah." I admitted. "Hadn't even thought about it until now."

He paused, looking a little uncomfortable. "Do ya wish we coulda had a proper weddin'?"

"Fuck no." I laughed. "Absolutely not." Adding. "It would have been nice to have a first dance, though... Never seen you shake your ass."

That got a low chuckle out of him.

He glanced back at me, his face thoughtful, something almost mischievous in his eyes. He pulled one of the records from the stack and carefully placed it on the turntable.

The soft crackle of the needle dropping, followed by the first notes of a slow country ballad, filled the room. A smooth and soulful male voice drifted through the space.

It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart.

Without saying a word, you can light up the dark.

I was still sitting on the sofa, lost in the beauty of the song when I heard Daryl speak, his voice low and hesitant.

"Ain't no dancer..."

I smiled softly, my gaze lingering on him. "Me neither."

He didn't speak again. Instead, he just stood there, still and silent, looking at me as if he was wrestling with something in his mind. And then, he stepped toward me. The room felt smaller, warmer, and I could feel my heart begin to beat faster.

Try as I may, I could never explain,

What I hear when you don't say a thing.

He extended his hand, an offer. Hesitant, unsure, but real. A question without words.

I stared at him for a moment, my pulse quickening, before reaching out, my fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his.

Daryl didn't say anything as he gently pulled me to my feet. He was still silent as I stepped closer to him, but somehow, the quietness between us felt right.

The two of us against the world.

As he took me in his arms. We began moving slowly, our bodies swaying in time to the music. The candle crackled in the background, the soft glow from the flame casting dancing shadows across the walls.

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me.

There's a truth in your eyes, saying you'll never leave me.

A touch of your hand says you'll catch me, if ever I fall.

His arms were wrapped around me, strong but gentle. His body was warm, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my cheek as I rested my head against his chest.

The music swirled around us, filling the space in a way words never could. I closed my eyes, letting the moment wash over me, feeling the weight of everything we'd survived together.

Yeah, you say it best,

When you say nothing at all.

I let out a shaky breath, my arms winding around his neck as I pressed myself closer. Daryl held me just a little tighter, like he was afraid I might slip away, like he wasn't sure how long he could hold on to this piece of normal.

All day long, I can hear people talking out loud.

But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd.

The song continued to play, and I knew in that moment that this was what we needed. Not grand gestures, not the perfect world, but this. This small moment, where we let ourselves just be. Where we could stop fighting, stop struggling, and let the music guide us.

Old Mister Webster could never define...

What's being said between your heart and mine.

Those precious moments felt like they were filled with everything we had become together. My head rested on his chest as he rocked me, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.

"Ya know how much I love ya, don't ya?" he whispered into my hair.

I nodded, not lifting my head, happy tears welling behind my eyes. This felt so right, so perfect, despite everything happening beyond the walls.

The world outside didn't matter. It was just us.

Safe. Together.

Sharing our first dance.

A/N: Aww. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I loved writing it. I listened to so many songs before deciding on 'When You Say Nothing At All' by Keith Whitley.

I thought it fit them for a first dance.

Thank you as always for your votes and comments. They make me SO happy! ❤️