Overbearing and Obnoxious

Lady Wolfy

Living in a world overrun by the dead had its perks. Less people shit on you for being a redneck, more people praised you for being skilled with a crossbow, and you almost never got punched or slapped in the face for shit you did in bars the night before. Before the apocalypse, Daryl was a nobody. Now that the dead were walking around eating peoples' faces off, he was a somebody. People were looking up to him - people that once upon a time would of seen him as shit at their feet. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it, but he had never been one to dwell on things as pointless as feelings anyway.

Soon enough, however, Daryl had to work on keeping his feelings in check. Ever since the group had left Hershel's farm Carol had been following him around like a puppy, and the strange surge of emotions that brought on were mostly unwelcome and infuriating. He was annoyed that he could never get a moment alone without turning and meeting her careful gaze. She barely ever said a word - barely breathed loud enough for him to even complain about her sighing - but she was always there. It was as if he was constantly feeling itchy and uncomfortable without any possible way to scratch himself or even figure out why he was itchy in the first place. He knew she thought highly of him (for whatever fuckin' reason, he hadn't even done nothing) but the woman was irritating him. The worst part was the other strange, unidentified feelings she was giving him, simply by being around him so goddamn much.

"What the hell are y'lookin at, lady?" Daryl had finally snapped, turning abruptly to glare at Carol. She had been sitting on a log scrubbing one of his own shirts, her eyes following him as he made his way past the camp. He couldn't take it anymore. Why couldn't she just follow Rick like the rest of them? Why'd she have to look at him like that?

"Nothing," Carol murmured looking down, scrubbing at his shirt roughly. She didn't look back up - she was almost trembling. They'd all been on edge lately and Daryl hadn't been the first person to scream at her.

"Well... good," Daryl finished lamely, squinting at her. She didn't look up, and he felt uncomfortable pangs of some other pointless emotion erupt in his chest. He swallowed, then shook his head angrily before stalking off towards the woods.

He still couldn't fucking stand the staring, but things began to change soon after. They barely spoke even after that incident, but Daryl found himself growing far less irritated with Carol. He once outright thanked her for always offering to clean his clothes, and always sat next to her during meals. Finally, the day after Rick had discovered the prison and insisted that they attempt to move in and clear it out, Daryl taught Carol how to shoot. She wasn't half bad, and her even attempting to learn put her a step above Lori, who always assumed that killing walkers was more of a man's job.

Before they had made their first move on the prison, though, shit started to get messy. Daryl was shaken awake by Lori, who had apparently been running around camp screeching for about ten minutes beforehand.

"Jesus, woman, the fuck are y-"

"Daryl, Carol is missing!" Lori had grown extremely overbearing and emotional recently due to her very pregnant state, and Daryl hadn't shown much tolerance for it. Still, as soon as Carol's name left Lori's lips he felt himself mirroring her panic. He flew from the tent, grabbing his boots and crossbow as he went.

"How long has she been fuckin' missing for?!" he barked, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. Never mind why Lori had gone to Daryl instead of Rick - he would ponder the group's take on their strange friendship later. Carol and Daryl had recently started sharing a tent, but he always went to bed after her and she was always up making breakfast before he rose.

"I don't know, I've been looking for her for a little while now, she's never left camp bef-"

Daryl threw himself into the woods, running towards the river where the group sometimes cleaned up. She wouldn't have gone off alone, Daryl thought confusedly, nearly blinded by his own visions of a walker tearing Carol apart.

"CAROL!" he bellowed when he saw that the spot near the river was deserted. "CAROL!" A rustling in the bushes caused Daryl to pause and ready his crossbow, but when a decomposing elderly man appeared with fresh blood on his teeth, Daryl almost lost it. He shot the man through the skull without so much as blinking before running through the area the walker had come from, still shouting her name.

It didn't take long to find her. After stepping over a recently killed walker (a teenage boy, from the looks of it) Daryl saw her, standing with her gun in hand gazing off, looking sweaty and dirty and utterly traumatized. Still, after screaming 'did you get bit' about a dozens times into her face, Daryl had felt a relief wash over him that he could not compare to any relief he had ever felt in his life.

"Let's go get ya cleaned up," he managed to mumble, practically dragging Carol back to camp.

Daryl would never admit it to anyone out loud, but that was the day that he finally accepted that Carol meant something to him - something more than anyone in his life ever had. That was also the day that he started following Carol around, but less like a puppy, and more like a mother hen - because if Daryl Dixon was going to give a shit about someone, then you could be sure as hell that he was going to be overbearing and obnoxious about it the whole way through.

A/N

Not my best... really just kind of a pointless thinger, but let me know what you think :)

-LW