Problems | Part 1

                                    

                                          
  Daryl couldn't sleep. He'd tossed and turned restlessly in his tent and  finally decided to get up and do a perimeter check just for some  goddamned thing to do to pass the time. A heavy rain was falling and it  bothered him not being able to hear anything over the deluge. 
                          
  He shouldered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, grabbing his  flashlight from its place next to his cot. He slipped out of his tent  and started through the maze of tents. That's when he saw you. It looked  like you were sincerely hoping he wouldn't, like you were trying to  blend into the tree trunk you were leaning against, sheltering as much  as you could beneath the oak, obviously somewhat wet from the rain and  shivering slightly. 
                          
  Daryl's brow drew down over his eyes and he headed straight for you.  "What the hell are ya doin' out here alone in the dark in the middle of a  damn thunderstorm?" 
                          
  You didn't answer but you did raise your eyes to his, hugging your arms  more tightly around yourself. He watched another shiver wrack through  you. The archer frowned. "Why ain't ya in with your guy?" he asked,  jutting a thumb in the direction of the tent you shared with your  boyfriend. Daryl didn't like him at all... Frankly he thought the guy was a  controlling piece of shit, and he had a hunch that he might be worse  even than that. 
                          
  You avoided his eyes again. "We, uhh—had a fight," you murmured. Daryl  could easily read the embarrassment and shame on your face. 
                          
  "That don't explain why you're out here in the rain," Daryl drawled. 
                          
  You continued to avoid his eyes and didn't answer. He could think of a  couple reasons why you'd be out here instead of inside the dry tent, and  neither of them were good. Either he'd kicked you out or you'd left  because you were afraid of him, afraid of what would happen if you  stayed. Either way, there was no way in hell Daryl was gonna let you  spend the night outside in the cold autumn rain. 
                          
  "Ya ain't stayin' out here in the rain. C'mon," he said, nudging his  head back in the direction of his own tent. He turned to lead the way  and glanced back over his shoulder to see you hesitating to follow him.  "If ya stay out here all night, all soakin' wet like ya are, yer gonna  catch yer death. C'mon." 
                          
  This time you followed him, still shivering.  
                          
  Daryl held the tent flap open for you and you stepped inside, your arms  still wrapped tightly around yourself. He followed and zipped the flap  closed on the rain and night. When he turned you were standing awkwardly  in the middle of the tent. Daryl set his crossbow down and clicked on  the lantern next to his cot. He replaced the flashlight and pulled off  his jacket. He held it out to you. 
                          
  You gave him a questioning look. 
                          
  "I can see ya shiverin'. Take it. Can't have ya gettin' pneumonia. We've  already gone through too many of Hershel's antibiotics." 
                          
  You accepted it from him. "Thanks," you said. 
                          
  He watched you pull it on, anxiously chewing his bottom lip as the  fabric swallowed up your frame. He sat down on the floor across from you  and pulled his knife out and his sharpening stone, just for something  to do. He needed to busy his hands, because with you in that small space  with him he was suddenly feeling nervous. "Make yourself at home," he  said, nodding toward his cot on the opposite wall. 
                          
  You sat down on the edge a little gingerly and watched as he drew the blade of his knife across the stone. 
                          
  He kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing but his deep voice broke  through the pattering of the rain on the tent. "Ya wanna talk about it?"  
                          
  You shrugged deeper into his jacket. It still held the warmth of his  body and it smelled like him—musky leather, campfire smoke, and the  outside air. "I don't know," you admitted.