Chapter Text
Daryl’s back and arms were burning and aching with exertion, his shirt sticking to his back with sweat just as his hair was plastered to his forehead. They didn’t really need any more wood to be chopped, but the rhythmic sound of the axe hitting the log was oddly therapeutic. It helped him to stop thinking about how much he craved, needed, wanted to tap a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket and light it up.
It was day eight of yet another attempt at quitting. With each swing of the axe, he tried to push the craving further away, telling himself he had come too far to give in now. But the little voice in the back of his head was just too insistent to ignore, whispering sweet nothings about how he deserved a reward for his hard work. Just a one cig, no one needed to know about that.
No! Daryl grunted as he swung the axe again, hitting the log in a perfect arc, splintering it cleanly in two. He wouldn't give up this time. He wasn't a damn pussy. He could do it!
Too lost in his thoughts, in the rhythmic thud of the axe against the wood, he didn't notice Rick coming to the garden, not until the other man came into his line of sight, standing far enough so he wouldn't be hit by any flying debris.
"It's getting dark... why don't you call it a day?"
"There's plenty of light left," Daryl shrugged before getting ready to raise the axe again.
"Daryl..." It came out in a soft tone that made Daryl put the axe down. That gave Rick the opening to step closer to him, to card his fingers through Daryl's messy, sweaty hair.
"You've been out here all day. I've missed you."
"Okay," Daryl breathed out, suddenly feeling beyond exhausted, his arms aching and heavy. "Just... give me a minute." He closed his eyes, letting the tension seep out of his body as he leaned into Rick's presence, grounding himself in the moment.
He tried his damn best to really be there, with his body just as well as with his mind when they ate dinner while watching a movie later. He made sure to thank Rick for cooking and kept their knees touching. Not that it could make up for being distant for the whole day, but it was a start.
But it was tiring and by the time Daryl slipped underneath the blanket in their bed, he was back to his gloomy, withdrawn self. Rick noticed. He noticed everything no matter how hard Daryl always tried to hide it. And Daryl equal parts loved and hated that. He loved that Rick cared enough to see through his facade, but he hated feeling so exposed.
"What's wrong, darling? Please, talk to me. Is it something I did?" Rick asked as he shuffled closer to Daryl, close enough so he could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and he stroked his hair lightly, trying to push the unruly strands behind his ear.
"'S not you..."
"Then what?" It was clear Rick was done with having his questions brushed aside, and Daryl could sense the determination in his voice. It took everything in Daryl to not say something nasty back. The prodding was making him feel cornered, and he wanted nothing more than to retreat into the shadows of his mind where he felt safe.
"I just... I want a fucking cigarette, a'right? Shit, I just need it. I have a killer headache, my nerves are shot, and I haven't taken a dump in three days. And all I can think of is my pack and my lighter that's in my vest." Daryl didn't even notice his voice rising as he talked, going from gravely to almost desperate.
"You quit smoking, darling? Why?" It was a long moment of them just blinking at each other before Rick spoke, his tone confused. Daryl rubbed the back of his neck, and pressed his face into the pillow, suddenly feeling absolutely dumb.
"'Cause... I want to be better. For you.
Rick’s eyes softened, and he leaned closer, resting his hand on Daryl’s arm. “Better for me? Hell, Daryl, you don’t need to change for me. I fell for you just as you are.”
Daryl didn’t lift his face from the pillow, his voice muffled but full of emotion. “Yeah, well... you deserve someone who ain’t... all screwed up. Someone who ain’t got all this shit in their head. I just wanna be... good enough.”
Rick sighed, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on Daryl’s arm. “You’re already more than good enough. You think quitting’ll make me love you more? Ain’t possible. I already love the stubborn, grumpy, hardheaded man right here in front of me. Cigarette or no cigarette.”
Daryl snorted, finally lifting his head just enough to glance at Rick. “I don’t get how you put up with me.”
Rick grinned, brushing Daryl’s damp hair back from his face. “Because I see the good in you, even when you don’t. And because you’re worth it.” He tilted Daryl’s chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Now, if you wanna quit, you quit for yourself. Not for me. Not for anybody else. Got it?”
Daryl hesitated, then nodded, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. “Got it.”
“Good.” Rick pressed a kiss to Daryl’s forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "You’re doing good, Daryl. Real good. I’m proud of you.”
Daryl closed his eyes, the knot in his chest loosening just a bit. Maybe he could do this after all - with Rick by his side.