He’s Just A Baby - Adi_Is_Watching (2024)

Chapter 1: prologue

Chapter Text

Or at least…that’s what everyone in his crew believed him to be.

Daryl never really openly discussed classifications unless he had to. He knew the classifications of the others, but he liked to stay away from that kind of stuff as much as possible. He just did as he was told, and the others never questioned him about what he was. Afterall, he wasn't kind enough to be a caregiver, and not cute enough to be a little, so obviously he was a neutral.

Right?

He was part of the inner circle, the group containing Rick, Hershel, Glenn, and Maggie, that voted on choices that would impact everyone. Things like how they should deal with a caving fence, or who was going to go out on the newest supply hunt. He, being practically the second-in-command man, always had to be strong enough to make the tough decisions.

He was also the main hunter for the group. Rick had taken the task of gardening, and Glenn later took up the task of cleaning the water and fortifying the gates around the camp, along with Maggie. Michonne had taken up a big spot as a hunter as well, but with his expert tracking skills and experience fighting for his own food, Daryl still brought home the majority of the big meat.

When he wasn’t hunting and discussing life changing conditions, or fighting walkers, or gathering supplies, or digging graves, he was himself.

And that wasn’t very often.

He couldn’t, not when so many people counted on him.

For the most part, Daryl did a great job of keeping his little side under control. After all, Merle and his daddy had practically drilled it into his head that being a little was the worst possible thing a Dixon could ever be. As a newly classified teen, he had been shamed for going into his headspace, and he had learnt to suppress it as best as he could. And as soon as the dead started walking, his big brother had handed him his crossbow and told him if he ever dropped into his headspace, he’d feed him to the walkers. Now, dealing with the fatigue and aches that came with pushing away his headspace was like a walk in the park.

There were a couple small thorns he couldn’t get rid of though.

For instance, the fact that he constantly had to make sure he didn’t wet himself or worse. His headspace fell on the younger side, meaning diapers were essential to him. But he didn’t wear them.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t. In fact, diapers for littles were very common in the dead world, mainly because all the young littles had already died out and become walkers. The prison even had a special area designated specifically for littles.

The thing is, he wasembarrassedof wearing them. He knew he needed them, waking up more often than not with a soaked cot proved that. He just couldn’t. Instead, he took precautions such as never drinking anything closer than three hours before he slept. Merle and his father had also never wanted him to wear them; even though he constantly soaked his thin mattress, the Dixon family viewed relying on little products as a weakness, so he never really had the luxury of waking up in a dry cot.

Another thing he couldn’t seem to ignore was his habit of thumb sucking. Whether he was close to headspace or not, he always felt the need to bite on something.

Before the apocalypse he would always chew gum. Now that gum was barely found in all the wrecked stores he would search, it wasn’t an option. He would nibble on his nails instead. He tried to keep his thumb out of his mouth because that was a quick way to get infected with something, considering he was almost always covered in Walker blood and grease. But sometimes, after a shower, in the solidarity of his cot, he’d let it slip through his lips for a while.

Another thing he was constantly on the look out for were suppressants, the medically prescribed drug that helped to push back a little's headspace. They were not meant to be taken casually, and a little needed to go through several health screenings to even be prescribed them. But of course his dad had found a loophole, so he had been taking nearly triple the recommended monthly dosage weekly to stay afloat.

But of course, the medicine became scarce when the apocalypse hit, and he hadn't been able to have any of the pills in almost a month. That made his headspace swings harder to control, and he had them much more often. But on those days, he would go 'hunting' and just stay away from the group and its caregivers until the fuzzy feelings faded away. It was torturous, but it worked.

Overall, he did okay with dealing with his classification. He always tried to stay out of the little room in the prison when possible, though that was hard because it happened to be little ass-kicker’s favorite place to play.

On days where he was really close to slipping and didn’t even trust himself outside of the walls, he used to find Carol and help her with basic maintenance tasks like picking onions from the garden.

But now that Carol had been banished…he didn’t know what to do.

When Carol had been banished for killing two of their own group about a month ago, Daryl had tried to stay strong. He knew it wasn’t Rick’s fault; he was just doing the right thing.

However, Carol leaving, maybe for ever, had really hurt him. After all, she was the first one to actually see him for more than just a sh*t head. And since she had been a caregiver, whether she knew it or not, all her sweet words and acts of friendship really soothed Daryl. Part of him knows that she was the only reason he hadn’t dropped yet, the only reason he had held it together. He wanted to stay strong for her.

Every day just felt like a ticking time bomb, leading to something inevitable:

A drop.

Chapter 2: Old Grudges

Chapter Text

Hershel thought it best that they be prepared in case that ever happened again, and Daryl agreed.

The supply run was the easy part. After a bit of driving and venturing into a nearby city, the three of them found a convenience store that had just about everything they were looking for. They stocked up their bags full of medical supplies, and Daryl had made sure to grab a couple other things including matches, as they were always in need of those. He tried to forget the fact that he had spent nearly ten minutes looking at a wall of pacifiers.

Daryl was comfortable around Michonne, and they always seemed to work well together. They had lots in common, and Daryl had come to respect her. Also, he was pretty sure she was a neutral, and yet her presence always comforted him. There was a motherly touch to her personality, and he supposed it was because she had actually been a mother before the apocalypse happened.

However, Tyreese was a different story. He had always been a little bit odd to Daryl, but then again everyone was odd to Daryl. However, after Carol had killed those two people, one of them apparently being very close to Tyreese, the man had began to get violent. He knew that Daryl was the closest to Carol, and with Carol gone, Daryl was left to feel the man’s wrath. It was never direct, but Daryl could always tell that the occasional, accidental ‘bump’ on the shoulder as the man passed by him was definitely anger-filled.

Also, the little virus that had been traveling around the prison had led to the death of Tyreese’s sister, Sasha.

She had been a little with a headspace around six, and the second she dropped for the first time, all of the caregivers had fawned over her.

Daryl had thought she was nice. Sure, she stole the attention of just about everyone on the team, but other than being a little spoiled and rude at times, she was pretty fun to be around. And when she was big, Daryl found she was much like him.

The man had practically gone insane, so much so that Rick no longer trusted the man in the same cell block as the kids.

For that reason, Ty had been recruited for the supply run that the three of them went on. The aim was to get him out of the prison for a while so that Rick and the others could figure out what to do with him.

Throughout the whole supply run the man had been stingy, sure, but the worst of it came when they were driving on the way back to the prison.

A group of maybe four or five walkers was stalking around on the side of the road, a typical sight. The walkers had actually almost ignored the car driving by all together, as they were focused on some animal moving in the woods, when all of a sudden Tyreese had been hit with a wave of anger.

He thrusted open the back car door where he had been sitting, and jumped out of the moving vehicle, right into the center of the walkers.

Daryl, being in a half-conscious state, had slammed on the breaks of the car in surprise, sending Michonne flying through the front window and onto the pavement where she was instantly surrounded by two new walkers who had wandered out from the woods.

"f*ck.”

Daryl had jumped out of the car, kicking away the two walkers who had been crawling up on Michonne before stabbing their brains out with one of his arrows.

He held out his hand to Michonne who accepted it with her own shaky one, and pulled her up.

"M’sorry,” he told the woman, who now had cuts oozing blood all over her form. Luckily she didn’t seem to be too hurt though, which was nothing but dumb luck.

She nodded her head quickly, the universal sign for ‘it’s good,’ before running over to Tyreese.

Daryl turned to see the mess Tyreese had gotten himself into.

The man had jumped out of a moving car with no weapon, and had proceeded to try and punch the group of walkers to their second death.

He stifled a groan and quickly ran over, joining Michonne who was busy slicing away at the dead’s throats.

He shot one of them and then pulled a knife from his pocket, stabbing it through the skull of another.

Meanwhile, Ty continued to punch in a blind rage of fury. Blood coated his knuckles as he screamed his head out.

Even after all of the walkers were down, he continued to punch.

"We need to get moving,” Michonne said, eyes gesturing to the clump of walkers that was beginning to form down the road due to the commotion.

Daryl nodded and turned back to Tyreese who was still screaming and swinging his arms around like a tornado.

"alright TyYy,” Daryl muttered.

"We got ta go.”

When the man didn’t respond, Daryl stepped closer.

“Come on man, we’ve got ta go. Don’t make us leave ya.”

Daryl stepped closer and the man seemed to slow down, his screams settling and his fists lowering until his wild eyes met Daryl.

Daryl doubted he would’ve been able to block the swing that came his way, even if he was in the right state of mind.
Tyreese’s knuckles came in contact with Daryl’s face and in an instant he was doubled over onto the car roof.

Ty continued punching and punching and all Daryl could do was lay there and let the man's steam run out. He’d gone through this a lot with Merle and his daddy, so he knew how it went.

The only thing different this time was that there was someone there to stop the man.

After three more successful face punches, Michonne had grabbed Ty by his shirt collar and flung him around, pinning him to the car in an instant.

"You’re insane,” she spoke, holding her sword to his throat.

"Now nock it off and get in the car or I will kill you where you stand.”

Both Daryl and Michonne knew that leaving the man out here would do no good, he’d just find his way back to the prison anyway. Better to take him in and ‘arrest’ him until they could all decide what to do with him.

Tyreese spat blood onto the floor and seemed like he wanted to argue, but he nodded after seeing exactly how many walkers were coming their way. Michonne stared at him for another long second before letting him go.

Daryl watched the whole encounter, blowing out blood from his nose and rubbing his right eye, which he knew was the color of a plum already.

He silently walked over to the driver’s side of the car, sitting down behind the wheel again and roaring the engine to live.

Michonne took the seat next to him and Ty begrudgingly huddled up in the back once more.

Daryl zoomed away without another word, but he could feel Michonne eyeing him.

And yet he had laid there completely docile as Tyreese had punched his face in.

—————————————————————

When the trio finally arrived back at the camp just as the sun was beginning to set, Daryl could see the relieved faces of Glenn and Maggie all the way from where they were pulling open the gates.

As soon as the doors were open enough, Daryl quickly drove the car through them, avoiding a couple walkers who stood in front of the old blue Honda like a deer in headlights.

He drive over next to one of the prison’s cell blocks and parked the car, watching as Rick, Beth, Hershel, and the others sped over.

Michonne, Tyreese, and him silently stood up out of the car and waited for everyone to huddle around.

'Thank goodness you all are safe,” Rick muttered as he scanned over Daryl and Michonne’s battered appearances.

"What happened ta you two?” He spoke again, eyes darting between the woman who was dripping blood, and the archer whose face was a different color than the rest of his body.

Tyreese walked over to the others and was about to start talking when suddenly Michonne was next to him, her samurai sword blocking his path.

"We found some good medicine and supplies,” she spoke, and Daryl found himself glad she was the one talking. He wasn’t sure if he trusted his own mouth right now.

"That’s good,” Rick muttered, though his eyes were still trained onto Daryl’s swollen ones.

Michonne put her arm behind Ty and pushed him forward into the circle of people.

"Rick, he needs to be detained until further notice. He jumped out of a moving car and began attacking walkers with nothin but his fists. Then when all the walkers were gone, he attacked Daryl. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him do something hostile like this.”

Almost as soon as Michonne had finished speaking, Rick’s handcuffs were being attached to Tyreese’s hands.

"What the f*ck man!?” Tyreese yelled and Rick held him by the arm.

"Do you really not trust me after everything we’ve been through!? You know I’m not’a threat!”

“Listen Ty, those are just for precaution. I don’t know what was going through your head when ya attacked Daryl, but that makes you a threat. You’re gonna have ta stay isolated until we figure this out, but I’m not done talkin’ to Daryl an’ Michonne yet so you’re gonna sit tight.”

The way Rick spoke left no room for argument, his former cop experience most likely having some play in that, and all Ty could do was snarl and glare death eyes at Daryl as Glenn grabbed his arms to keep him still.

Rick returned his attention to the other two members of the supply hunt group.

"I am so sorry. If I had known he’d be such a tr—“

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Daryl had spoken up so quickly but so softly that everyone’s eyes snapped onto him suddenly.

He internally cursed. He was too close to dropping to keep a steady conversation right now. Hopefully Rick would just ignore him and go back to talking with Michonne.

The former cop eyed him with what seemed to be a bit of suspicion and guilt before he continued.

"Still, I knew Ty was out of it, I just hadn’t thought it would be this bad.”

Daryl heard said man mutter something under his breath.

Rick cleared his throat and stared at the setting sun.

"Alright everyone let’s get this stuff inside before the sun sets, we’ll sort through it all tomorrow. Michonne and Daryl, you two go get checked out. I’ll take Tyreese.”

“You two come with me, I’ll get ya nice and fixed.”

—————————————————————

That night Daryl had skipped dinner. After Hershel had patched up him and Michonne, he had slipped away into his cell, closing the door behind him and collapsing onto his bed.

Gently laying his crossbow on the floor next to him, Daryl slipped off the leather wings he was wearing and laid back, pulling the dirty vest to his chest.

He breathed in its musty scent and finally relaxed a bit for the first time all day it had seemed.

The vest had belonged to his brother a long time ago. When one of the sleeves had ripped off and Merle decided he no longer liked it, he passed it off to his baby brother. Daryl had ripped the other sleeve off and created a cool outfit with it. He never really took it off, and when Merle had died, the vest had become one of his most cherished possessions.

On stressful nights like this, Daryl loved to hold the vest to his chest, admittedly like a baby blanket. The faint smell of his brother that still lingered in the old fabric calmed him more than anything else.

Small tears pricked his swollen eyes, which he quickly batted away before shutting them in attempt to get some rest.

After only five minutes he was almost completely dozed off, until he heard the sound of his cell door opening.

He jumped up, whipping out his thumb—which had unknowingly slipped its way into his mouth—and grabbed an arrow from his quiver on the floor. He raised his arm, ready to attack whoever was in his space.

"Hey Hey, easy there,” a voice spoke from the entrance to his cell and he realized that it was not a walker, but a lady instead.

Beth.

Daryl lowered his arrow, calming down a bit at the sight of her.

Out of everyone left on the team, Beth was one of his favorites.

They had had a stint a week or so ago when walkers had attacked them while they were out on a food run, and they were forced to go out hiding for a couple days. In the middle of it all, they had found an old house with lots of moonshine.

There had been some very deep feelings shared that night while Beth had her first ever drink, and part of Daryl was aware that he might’ve hinted at his little status to the young caretaker when he had talked about why his family hated him so much.

After burning the old house to the ground, Beth and him had made it back to the prison, reunited with the worried group, and then passed out in cell block C, their drunk high finally evaporating. They had been very out of it the next day, and Hershel hadn’t been exactly pleased.

Daryl looked over Beth silently before sitting back down on his ‘bed’ and patting next to him, signaling the woman to sit down.

Luckily, she took the queue, walking over and gently propping herself down next to the archer.

They sat in comfortable silence for a minute until Beth spoke up.

"Rick put Ty in a locked cell for the night, thought it’d be best to let him lose some steam before they talk about it.”

Daryl stayed quiet except for a little nod. When he saw that Beth’s eyes had fallen to his lap, he looked down and saw that he was still clutching his vest.

He casually loosened his grip on it and looked back up at Beth.

"Is there anything you wanted ta say? I’m about ta sleep?”

Beth looked Daryl up and down before finally meeting his swollen eyes.

"You okay?” she spoke quietly, reaching out to put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder.

He didn’t answer, and he didn’t have to. With what the world had come to, no one was okay.

But Daryl had a feeling she was referring more to what had happened out on the supply hunt, than to everything else.

He sucked in a breath. Michonne must’ve mentioned something about how Daryl had acted when Tyreese attacked. Anyone with even half a brain knew that Daryl could not andwould notgo down in a fight easily. So hearing that he had just laid there and let it happen was definitely a sign that something was wrong.

"M’fine,” he mumbled, trying to steel his mind that was already feeling littler every second.
Obviously that was a big fat lie, but luckily Beth seemed to catch on that he didn’t want to talk.

She nodded and stood up, making her way out of the cell.
Right before she walked away, she turned back.

"Get some good rest, okay?”

Daryl nodded, his face still burning from earlier that day.

She gave him a light smile and then walked off into the dim light of the prison, leaving the archer alone to his thoughts yet again.

Once the sound of the caregiver’s footsteps disappeared, Daryl finally let go of the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

He laid back down and pulled the vest to his chest again, trying to re-enter the sleeping state he had almost been in.

It took a little bit longer than before, but eventually sleep overcame him, and the last thing he remembered before passing out was turning over onto his side and pressing his thumb back through his chapped lips.

Chapter 3: Alexandria

Chapter Text

“M-Merle?”

Daryl took a cautious step towards the last remaining walker that was slumped over a human carcass, eating its guts out.

He had recognized the crafted prosthetic arm weapon on the walker and the sight of it had made him freeze in his tracks.

At first he had thought it was an odd coincidence, that the walker couldn’t be Merle, that his brother was still alive somewhere after he had left the group for good. His brother was not one to be easily defeated, after all.

However, when the walker looked up anditsdead eyes met Daryl’s own, he knew exactly who he was looking at.

Daryl sniffled, taking a shaking step back as he felt his world crash around him. His breathing was already becoming erratic, and his heartbeatbegan to ring in his ears.

Merle, his big brother…he was gone.

The walker, who now had its full attention on Daryl, stood up on shaky legs and began to stumble closer to him.

Meanwhile, the archer’s eyes glossed over with tears as he shakily pulled a knife from his pocket.

"I'm so sorry Merle. I-I’m so sorry,” Daryl muttered repeatedly as the walker wandered closer and closer, even though deep inside he knew that Merle had never once said sorry for any of the awful things he had done to him.

Then, when Merle the walker was only about two feet away, Daryl lunged at him and plunged the knife into it's decomposed forehead.

————-

Daryl shot up, eyes instantly flashing open. Instead of finding the broken-in face of his dead brother though, he found himself looking at a wooden house beam.

Right…

Daryl looked around in the darkness that was dimly lit by a small candle laying near him, and found himself sitting on the floor of a house’s front porch, his back leaning against the white exterior of it.

All of reality suddenly came crashing back into him when he remembered where he was.

That night…after Daryl had fallen asleep in the prison, barely stable after an awful supply run, everything had went to sh*t.

Somehow, the big chain that had been holding the main gate to the prison shut had come undone during the night. And due to this, a huge swarm of walkers, who had been waiting outside of the gates, had slipped into the prison.

And the man they had been fighting with, the governor, had set fire to a whole wing of the building as well, dragging the attention of even more walkers, and injuring a couple of the people who had been sleeping peacefully inside.

Daryl didn't remember anything clearly from that moment on, all the way until they had arrived in Alexandria a long while later. It was like he hadn't truly been awake during it all.

He had remembered waking up to screams, and instantly suffocating on the ash that lingered in the air. The fact that he had wet himself had gone completely unnoticed as he had panickily ran out of the cell block and into the fight where Rick and the others were. He remembered the looks of horror on everyone’s faces as Hershel dropped dead, his head being chopped off by the enemy. He remembered the feeling of his knees almost giving out during the fight, and the moment where he had forced his headspace so far back in his mind that he felt like he was splitting his skull in half. But that was all he could really gather from that day.

And then there was Beth. Her death definitely got to him more than anything else, it was up there with Merle’s for sure. Beth had gone missing after the prison invasion, and Daryl had been practically going mad while looking for her. Somewhere along the time when the group had found this priest dude, Daryl had figured out that Beth had been taken to this hospital.

It had been going so well. They got Carol back, and they were about to get Beth too…when something went wrong.

The lady that ran the hospital, Dawn, said that if they got Beth, then she wanted her man, Noah back.
Noah was a good kid, and he had been about to give himself over to the lady in exchange for Beth…when Beth had stabbed Dawn.

It had all happened too fast. Dawn had shot Beth dead on the spot, and Daryl had killed Dawn immediately afterwards. Beth had always said that Daryl would outlive her and the others, and even though part of him knew that she was right...he hadn’t expected her death to come so suddenly.

He remembered the panicked words of everyone, and Rick’s negotiated deal for both sides to go their separate ways, but all that he could focus on was the lifeless body of the young caretaker in his arms. Beth had been the only one in Daryl’s whole life that he had gotten comfortable around enough to even hint at his classification, even Carol hadn't made it that far through his walls yet…and yet in a split second she was gone. Just like everyone else he had ever cared for in his life.

After that moment, is when everything fully went foggy for him. They were all headed for Washington, and they met some other people along the way. However, all he had felt inside was a sense of numbness. Carol and the others had tried talking to him and discussing what had happened, but he had just shut them out. He had became even more isolated than he used to be, and he knew how worried the others were.

And then one day he had walked off into the woods, sat down and leaned against a tree, pulled out a cigar…and proceeded to cry his heart out. He had burned his hand with the bud, letting it be a painful reminder of how screwed up he was. The tears that fell in that moment, and the cries he had made were a hundred percent the cries of a broken little, even a neutral would have been able to tell. Luckily, no one had been there to see or hear them, otherwise he would have never heard the end of it.

…or at least that’s what he had thought.

The first thing that truly snapped him back into his body was when they had met this guy named Aaron a couple weeks ago, who had apparently stumbled upon the ladies while they were out, and had claimed that he had a sanctuary that they could stay in.

Obviously, Rick didn't believe him at first, and had some people go scout to find the cars that Aaron had talked about. Even after the cars were found to actually be there, there was a feeling of tightness in the air. Rick still didn’t seem convinced, although Daryl was starting to be.

While driving to the sanctuary, they had all gotten overrun by walkers, and the team split up for a while. He wouldn’t admit it, but being split up in the forest in the dark had kind of frightened him in that moment. It was another telltale sign that he wasn’t in the right headspace.

But eventually, the group had made it. They had entered this town, Alexandria, that was blocked off from the real world by large walls. They had met this lady, Deanna, who ran the place (even though Rick would come to run it only a week later). She said that the houses here had running water, food, and solar power. She then proceeded to hand out these houses to them like it was nothing.
Everyone was freaked. The world inside of this town…looked kind of like how the world used to be. There were people milling about as if they had no idea that there were corpses ready to eat them if they stepped out from the walls. And for some who had never once left the walls after the apocalypse had started, it was true.

For the first night everyone had huddled into one house. They wanted to stay safe together, Daryl could understand that.

But while the others had stayed together in the common room of the house, Daryl had chosen to stake out on the porch. He claimed that it was because he wanted to keep an eye on things, which was true, but the main reason had to deal with him being scared he’d have an accident or end up sucking his thumb in front of everyone else.

Eventually though, the group had split into some houses, Daryl ending up with Carol, Glenn, and Maggie, although he barely stayed in the house at all. Rick’s house that he shared with Michonne, Carl, and little ass-kicker was right next to them, and they had an extra room as well which Rick had said would always belong to Daryl if he needed it.

Daryl had found that sweet, although now he supposed that offering up a room for him had just been Rick’s way of attempting to make himmore comfortable with Alexandria.

After a couple of days, everyone in their group had received jobs best suited to them. Rick and Michonne had become police, Glenn a scavenger, and Maggie was basically the government. The only one who hadn’t received a job was…him.

Daryl had agreed, and starting then Daryl saw Aaron more than anyone.

The man had invited him into his house, where he presented his lover, Eric. Eric was a pretty nice looking guy, who didn’t really look like he would be one for bloody bashes, but apparently he had actually been Aaron’s previous scout runner partner. Of course, after Eric had broken his ankle, Aaron much rather preferred that he stay in the town.

After all, Aaron’s job wasn’t really a necessity, although he did bring home lots of food and other things. However, Aaron had said that the job allowed him to get away from the stuffiness of the small piece of civilization for a while, and Daryl respected that.

While dining over a large plate of pasta, Aaron had nonchalantly revealed that he and Eric were both caregivers, which explained why Daryl felt so tingly around them, like he often did with someone like Rick.

They said that they had always wanted a little of their own, a young one, but due to the apocalypse, there were hardly any littles out there and they doubted that their dream of having one would ever happen. The few other littles in the town, each having a headspace age of a little kid, already belonged to loving families.

Daryl nodded along and sympathized with them, although in the back of his mind all he could question was why the two men would want such a young little like himself. All young littles did was cause trouble, and in the world they were in now, trouble was the last thing anyone wanted.

He had started to get uncomfortable when they began pressing him on his classification. He said that he was a neutral, just like he had been trained to do. For some reason though, the look Aaron had given him strongly suggested that he didn’t believe him. All the talk about classifications had made him restless, and as soon as he had finished eating, he had thanked the couple for having him over and prompltly made his exit.

That night when he had returned to his ‘house’ and spoke with Glenn for a bit, he had gone up to his room and had taken a long, hot shower, to cleanse away the fuzziness that he felt both inside and outside of his body.

Then, he had walked right back outside of the house, sat himself down on the porch, and proceeded to fall asleep there while he looked up at the stars.

That’s where he had been when he first woke up in the middle of the night.
However, after assessing that he was safe, Daryl allowed his eyes to slip shut once more, and he again fell into the deep deaths of his tortured mind.

He hadn’t even noticed the fact that his thumb had been caught in his mouth.

And he definitely hadn’t been aware of the single pair of eyes that had been watching him from down the street.

Chapter 4: The Theory

Chapter Text

“Duck down!”

As soon as Aaron ducked, Daryl let free a single arrow from his crossbow, watching as it implanted itself right in the middle of a deer probably 20 feet behind where Aaron had been standing. The deer fell lifeless with a thud, and Daryl was instantly running towards it.

Daryl let free a pleased whistle as he knelt down next to the deer and tapped its forehead. It was stone dead.

He heard Aaron come up from behind him as he pulled the arrow out from the deer’s head, wiping some of the blood off on the deer’s coat before returning the arrow to his quiver.

Once Daryl was sure that the deer was bite free, he stood up and looked around.

"If we could find a tarp or something, we could wrap the deer up and stuff it in the back of the car,” Aaron spoke.

"That’s what I’m lookin’ for,” Daryl replied, walking out of the woods and back to the stolen car that rested idly on the side of the empty road. He opened the trunk and looked through it, digging through the random items that he found. He began to believe that his search was futile, when in the back of the trunk he found a box of trash bags. He grinned; today seemed to be a lucky day.

“Nice shot,” Aaron chuckled mostly to himself. “We haven’t gotten a deer this big in some time.”

“It’s okay, she’s far down the road. Let’s just leave.” Daryl glanced to his side to see Aaron looking at him with an expression he couldn’t place. He looked back at the walker once more before nodding.
Turning around, him and Aaron made their way back to the car. Aaron got into the driver’s seat and Daryl quietly made his way to the passenger’s.
————————-

“Daryl?”
Aaron’s single word broke the silence that had been suffocating the car for the past 40 minutes.

"hm?”

Daryl glanced over and found Aaron still staring at him behind the wheel with that same odd expression.

"What man?” Daryl pushed when Aaron seemed to choke on his words.

"Well I—uh,” The guy paused and took a breath before turning his eyes back to the empty road.

"Do you trust me? You know, enough to be honest if I ask you something?”

"What do ya mean?”

"Just answer the question please,” Aaron said flatly, and Daryl had to stop and think for a second.

"It depends on what ya ask.”

He could see a small smile cross Aaron’s features for a moment, before it was quickly wiped away.

"Well I…uh, I’ve been meaning to ask you this since I met you. It’s just a theory, but it’s really important.”

“Just spit it out already.”

Aaron cleared his throat.

“Okay it’s…are you a little?”

The look that Daryl gave Aaron in that moment would have been deadly enough to get even a man like Rick to back off. However, the stunned face of the hunter seemed to only serve as confirmation to Aaron’s question.

"…what?” Daryl whispered, so light that Aaron could barely hear it.

"It’s just…everyone seems to think you’re a neutral, and that’s what you told me. But I was there the other month or so when you fell asleep on the porch with your thumb in your mouth, and I saw you that time in the woods when you burned your hand—“

"Shut up.”

Aaron peeled his eyes off the road and turned to face Daryl who was pale as a ghost, eyes trained on the other man. The second Aaron looked into the deadly eyes of the hunter though, he realized his theory had been correct.

"You are a little,” Aaron spoke breathlessly, so distracted that, had this not been the apocalypse, he for sure would’ve hit another car.

"I told you to shut up,” Daryl seethed, suddenly feeling very sweaty. “I don’t want ta ever hear you talk about this again. I’m not a dumb little.”

The other man sighed and looked back at the road, although Daryl could tell he wouldn’t be forgetting anything. Meanwhile, Daryl seemed to only be getting more worked up by the minute.

"I swear I won’t speak to a soul about this, but just hear me out.” The car sped up just a little bit, and Daryl could see it was an unspoken way of Aaron telling him not to jump out of the vehicle. In response to Aaron’s words, Daryl just grunted, trying to steel his already fuzzy mind to not spill anymore beans. He couldn’t believe Aaron, a man he’d only known for like two months, had managed to pry at a secret he’d pushed down for decades.

"Hypothetically…if you were a little, that would not be a bad thing at all. From what I can tell though, you don’t seem to like them.”

"I like ‘em, but they’re weak and dumb and they can’t survive in this world.”

For a moment, the car was silent, except for the shallow breathing of the two men.

"It sounds almost like you’re reciting what someone else said,” Aaron spoke up at last, literally dropping a bomb. Daryl just kept his mouth shut. Obviously he wasn’t doing well at hiding his feelings, and he couldn’t let Aaron pry anything more from him.

"Well,” the man continued. “That is not true in the slightest. Just because someone is a little, doesn’t mean they are automatically weak. They were born with a classification just like everyone else, and even though their needs may be different, they still have the potential to do great things. As for surviving in this world…I may apparently know a little who has survived it and is stronger than just about everyone.”

Daryl finally turned to look back at Aaron once again, and he saw the caregiver’s eyes resting on him knowingly.

"I’m not gonna beat around the bush here, because I know you wouldn’t want that. Listen, I know you’re a little Daryl, your reaction says it all. And from what I can tell I know you haven’t been little in a long time. I just want to let you know that this does not make me think differently of you in the slightest. You are by far the strongest man I know and it will stay that way. In fact, if you want to, I will never say another word about this ever again. But I can’t just leave you out to dry, you’re my friend. And if you ever feel tired or need help, just stop by and I’ll show you what it really means to be a little. Your classification is not a punishment, and I personally want to kill the person who ever made you think it was. But what you are doing is not healthy, and it will catch up to you sooner or later. And I will always be there if you need anything.”

What surprised him most about Aaron’s speech though, was that everything he had said came from the stance of a friend, not some coddling caregiver. Aaron wasn’t belittling him, he was being his equal. Merle had said that no one would ever be his equal if they found out that he was a little. He didn’t even look the part. And yet this man, whom he had only known for about two months, had managed to crack a secret that no one, not even Rick, had managed to ever pull out of him.

Daryl never responded to what Aaron had said, and he didn’t need to. Because deep down, they both knew that he had caught every word.

And when they had gotten back to Alexandria late at night and both lugged the deer in to be cleaned off, Aaron had said goodbye just like every other time, acting as if he hadn’t just broken Daryl Dixon’s deepest darkest secret.

——————-

Later that night after parting from Aaron, Daryl had found himself silently sitting on the floor of his practically untouched room. Everything that Aaron had said was still swimming around in his head. Everything about him wanting to help and that Daryl was loved for. But when he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see a lovable little; he didn’t see anything Aaron would ever want in a little. All he saw was a mess of a man who was still covered in blood, guts, and grime. It reminded him of what his brother once told him when he was a young kid, asking about his classification.

"You don’t look like one of ‘em puss*es,” Merle had said.
“All of those caregivers just wan’ tiny littles with smooth skin ‘an a soft face ‘an a bright smile. You have none of that. Even if ya ever wanted ta be a real little, no one would ever take someone like you.”

Before Daryl could comprehend what he was doing, he was in the bathroom that was connected to his room. He turned on the shower for the first time since he’d reached Alexandria, and stepped under the water. He grabbed a bottle of soap and poured the liquid into his greasy hair until it poured down into his eyes and made them sting. He then reached his grimy hands into his hair and began to scratch his scalp clean. Once he was done with that and rinsed the soap from his hair, he lathered his locks with conditioner, and while that sat, he grabbed a loofa and put more soap on that, using it to clean the layers of dirt on his skin. Even when he was clean he continued to scrub until he was pink all over. Even then he still didn’t feel clean.

He tried using a razor to clean up his face. Then he trimmed his hair a bit and styled it so it didn’t look like a mop. Then he scrubbed away at his teeth till his gums started to bleed. But no matter what he did, he still looked the same.

About three hours later is when Daryl finally fell into his bed, dressed in nothing but the white bathroom towel. The sun was already rising outside, and he wished it would just stay down a bit more. At last though, wrapped in the covers of a bed that was much too soft for him, Daryl shut his eyes, slid his thumb into his mouth, and fell asleep.

Meanwhile, when Aaron had gotten back to his house, he had dropped his travel bag on the floor and kicked off his shoes with a sigh.

“Kind of, more overwhelming than bad though,” Aaron spoke, making his way over to Eric and sitting next to him. “Why are you still up anyway?”

"Isn’t it obvious?” Eric replied. “I was waiting for you. Now, what happened?” Eric spoke while grabbing Aaron’s hands and pulling them close. In response Aaron leaned into Eric’s side.

"Remember when I told you that I wasn’t so sure about Daryl’s classification, and that I would ask him about it?”

"Yeah?” Eric responded. Suddenly though, he sucked in a breath.

"Wait…is he—is he a little?”

When Aaron did nothing more but lower his head, Eric found his answer.

"But why are you upset about that?” The man asked, looking at Aaron worriedly. “Well, the thing is, he didn’t seem to like his classification one bit. He was saying how littles were dumb and weak, and I’m pretty sure he was repeating what someone else had told him. It doesn’t look like he really goes into his headspace too, which is really detrimental to his health.”

Eric gripped Aaron’s hands harder as he soaked up all the words.

“Oh…”

"mhm,” Aaron mumbled. “He didn’t want to talk about it, but I told him if he ever needed help he could come to us.”

"Of course,” Eric said firmly. “We will always be there for him.”

Smiling softly, Aaron leaned in a pressed a soft kiss to Eric’s lips. “It’s late,” he said while standing up. “Let’s go to bed.”

Eric stood up as well and grabbed his blanket with him.

"Of course, but you need to take a shower first.”

————-

Chapter 5: The Trouble

Chapter Text

Daryl walked over to the supply truck that had just been brought into the walls of Alexandria, holding a very energetic Judith on his shoulders as they talked about random things like the way people dressed, and how many walkers in the world were wearing the same clothes.

It had been three weeks since his and Aaron’s deep talk, and he had yet to take the man up on his offer of having him take care of him when he was small, despite the fact that he had been feeling more and more fuzzy as the days past.

As they reached the truck, Rick and Jesus slipped out from the front seats and looked their way. They both looked tired, but overall pretty happy, which must've meant the run had gone good.

"Daddy!” Judith called from Daryl’s arms-where she had demanded to be held so that she could look taller-and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched Rick run over. The sheriff scooped his girl from the archer’s arms and held her tight, kissing her forehead.

"Thanks for watching her,” Rick spoke, directing his attention to Daryl after a moment of smiling at his daughter.

"It was no problem,” he responded. “She’s fun ta' be with anyway.”

Rick gave him a light smile in response and turned his gaze to his right forearm, which was wrapped in some white gauze. They both knew that the only reason Daryl hadn’t been on the supply run today was because he had cut open his arm deeply by accident while escaping some deranged man who had chased him outside the walls the day before.

Daryl blinked and realized he’d been absentmindedly staring at the flower pattern on Judith’s yellow shirt.

"hm?”

"I asked if your arm was feelin’ better?”

Oh.

"Yeah,” Daryl spoke. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

The sheriff was watching him with slightly concerned eyes, but as he opened his mouth to speak again, Jesus yelled over to them.

"Daryl! If your arm's okay, could you help me lift this box to the storage area?”

Daryl quickly nodded and, after giving Rick and Judith a light smile, ran over to where Jesus was. Rick seemed like he wanted to argue against him lifting the box, but he ignored the look, instead grabbing the sides of the large crate. Together him and the bearded man both managed to lift the three feet tall storage box.

As they were lugging it into the town though, Daryl noticed a small crowd forming around the storage room. What was odd about the crowd though, was that it consisted of all of Alexandria’s two littles and their caregivers. Aaron was standing over there as well, which made Daryl suck in a breath, as he had been subtly ignoring the man for the past week or so.

"What’s in this box?” Daryl grunted to Jesus as the two men made their way over to the building.

"We found a little store today, and one side of it was barely touched. We already have the necessities, but we figured that we could grab a crate and see if the littles wanted anything.”

Daryl hummed in agreement, although the explanation had left him a bit flustered. Here he was, a little, carrying a box of little items that he so desperately needed, and yet he knew he couldn’t have anything. Sometimes when he was out hunting on his own, he would run into some little supplies. There were so many times that he’d wanted a pacifier, or almost gotten a toy or a pack of diapers. But in the end he never did, because Daryl Dixon wasn’t some dumb baby.

A couple moments later, they set the box down, and Daryl stood up and stretched out his back with a pop. The cut on his arm ached, but he wasn’t about to complain about it when there was a circle of caregivers standing around him. Well, Jesus wasn’t a caregiver, but he might’ve as well been one with how well he handled the other two littles.

He quietly stood off to the side as some of the caregivers held up items to their littles, seeing if they approved of the selection or not. He could’ve left, but some small part of him wanted to see what was in the box. He found it kind of ironic how, even in an apocalypse, these littles still had the privilege of choosing what toy they wanted or what color pants to wear.

He watched as shirts with cute designs on them were taken, and a couple toys and plushies. The older little, who was about seven, got a container of markers, while the younger one at the age of five chose a toy dinosaur instead.

Most of the younger-aged things remained at the bottom; things like diapers and onesies and bottles.
The caregiver of the younger little had pulled out a three pack of pacifiers and showed it to her little. Instantly though, the little shook his head.

"Mommy, I’m not a’ baby!”

In response, the woman had simply chuckled and placed the pack of pacifiers down on the floor, muttering something softly to her little about him being a 'big boy.'
As the caregivers moved on to other items however, Daryl found his eyes drawn to the package of soothers.
There was a purple one with a lollipop on it, and a red one with a crab on it. However, Daryl was looking at the one in the center. It was a plain white color, but it had a small yellow bee on the center of it. Just looking at it made him unconsciously bite his lip.
He knew he shouldn’t like things like this, but he was already so in between headspaces that the pacifier just looked so comforting, much better than his thumb.

Finally, after a good minute or two, Daryl tore his eyes off of the pacifier and silently exited the room.

—————————-

It had been a couple hours since the whole unboxing thing, and Daryl didn’t really have much to do.

Finally, a little while after the sun had set, Jesus had said goodbye for the night. Daryl had walked back with Glenn and Maggie as they lived in the same big house, and then had departed to his own room after saying goodnight to everyone. They asked him to stay for dinner, but he simply made up some lie about having eaten a late lunch and not being that hungry at the moment.

His eyes widened and he closed his door, locking it before making his way over to his bed, swiping the pacifier from the nightstand.

How the f*ck did this get here?

He looked intently at the chewer in his hand, which felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

The more he held it however, the more he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like in his mouth. It would probably feel better than his thumb. The material of it was probably very soothing. And the colors were pretty.

What if he were to…

Dropping his crossbow next to his nightstand, Daryl attempted to ignore the insulting item. He took off his grimy shirt and slid off his pants, scowling at the deep scars that littered his body. He then slipped himself into the shower to quickly rinse off. Ever since his little ‘moment’ three weeks ago, he’d actually started taking frequent showers. He was sure the others had noticed his recent cleanliness, but they hadn’t said anything; they probably all preferred him clean and fresh anyway.

While he was washing his body though, and thinking about how the pacifier could have possibly ended up in his room, he came to a realization that made him drop his sponge.

It was Aaron.

Aaron had brought him the pacifier.

Daryl stopped his shower, ignoring how there was still soap suds all over his body, and wrapped himself in a towel. He then walked out of the bathroom and over to where he had thrown the pacifier. He picked it up once again and stared at it for a moment.

Aaron had cared enough to give it to him...

But for some reason, just knowing it came from Aaron made him hesitate.

Daryl decided to sleep in the only pair of sweatpants he owned that night (he had found them out during a supply run a while ago).He knew in the morning he’d most likely have to wash them because he’d wet himself while he slept, but he didn’t care.

They were soft, and something told him he needed something soft tonight.

—————————

Yawning softly, he rolled over in his queen-sized bed and faced his window. Judging by where he could see the sun through the thin blue curtain, it was around eight in the morning; that was a surprisingly good amount of sleep for him.

He laid in bed for a little longer, finding it oddly hard to get himself to move, despite the bed being wet because of course it was. Finally though, after another few minutes, he decided to slide out of the wet covers. But that’s when he realized why he had felt so different than normal.
Upon sliding off the bed, the first thing he noticed was that he was slightly off balance.

He had gotten even closer to fully slipping. He could practically feel the feeling eating away at him.

Perhaps if he could just find something to ground himself onto today…

Daryl’s eyes glanced around the room until they fell onto the drawer of his bedside table.

What if…

He scooted over and opened the drawer, the pacifier instantly visible.

It’s not like he had to use it, he thought. Maybe just having it on him would calm him down.

Daryl slammed the drawer shut and sighed, standing up and walking back over to his closet. How could he even think of carrying around such a babyish item? No way, that was not for him.

"..."

He ended up sliding it in his pant's pocket while he was cleaning the bedsheets.

////////////

Breakfast with the others had been kind of awkward for him. Part of it had to do with the fact that he had barely shown up breakfast the past couple of weeks, meaning everyone’s eyes were on him for actually being there.

His job had been pretty simple: he held up the main frame of the wall with his brute force, while the others focused on nailing and securing boards of wood to it. The wall was heavy for sure, but as long as Daryl kept his arms and legs spread out like a starfish, he was able to keep it upright, even when the walkers started to pound the other side.

However, towards the end of the project one of the men dragged up a long, wood board. Daryl hadn’t really been paying attention to what was going on behind him, his face pressing against the metal part of the wall as he fought to keep it steady.

“My bad,” the man who apparently hit him simply spoke, seemingly not caring that he had just dropped Daryl to the floor.

“Didn’t see ya there.”

"Didn’t see my ass,” Daryl scoffed out, grunting in pain as he tried to sit up again. He finally managed to pull his back up to lean against the wall, blood drawing from his lip where he had been biting it.

"Hey dude you’re being a real dick, it obviously wasn’t on purpose,” one of the other men with curly hair and broad shoulders spoke up, dropping another wood plank to the floor in front of Daryl. Judging by the look on his face though, it definitely hadn’t been an accident.

“No wonder Daryl’s always alone,” the third man grumbled.
“He’s obviously not a good person.”

Daryl was about to let free a string of curses, but the first man beat him to it.

“Guys I just had the craziest thought. Imagine if Daryl had been a caregiver…no wait, a little!”

The other men instantly laughed, and Daryl bit back a small sob. He knew the men didn't know about his classification, but the fact that they had decided to pick on him about that versus anything else was very unsettling.

"That would be hilarious! I doubt anyone would want a little like him!”

"He for sure doesn't look like one! It looks like he just crawled out of some dumpster!”

The three men continued to shout insults at Daryl, and all he could do was sit there and take it. It was like the typical hallway scene in a high school movie, but this wasn’t just TV drama, and instead of being shoved in a locker, he was on the floor holding his aching back. He fought through tears when they began to prod more firmly at his classification, and when one of the men dropped his hammer on his leg, it took all of his willpower to not start crying then and there. While all of this was happening, he vaguely wondered why no one had come to stop the men. He swore he could see some of the random civilians walking around, but no one seemed to care. Besides them though, the city looked like a ghost town.

They were right though. He wasn’t nice, he looked awful, and he knew that no one would ever want him as their little.
------

Finally, after a couple more insults, the men stopped.

"Let’s go guys, I think Daryl can finish this up by himself,” the man with blonde hair standing in the middle said.

The others nodded and they all dropped their tools and turned to walk away, ignoring the fact that there was a piece of the wall fully capable of falling right now and swarming Alexandria with walkers.

"Oh, I almost forgot,” the same guy spoke up just before they were out of hearing range.

"I better not hear a word about this to Rick, or you don’t wanna know what happens.”

It was an empty threat. Normally Daryl would take a threat and shove it up a person’s throat…but he didn’t this time. No, he was way too out of it.

So instead of standing up for himself as the men left, he sat against the unfinished wall, trying to stop his tears from pouring out of his eyes.

———————

It was a bit past 6pm when Daryl finished the wall. Yes, he had actually stayed and done it. The last thing he wanted was for walkers to enter the sanctuary just because he had been a puss* about his back and everywhere else that hurt.

That was why it took him so long to finish up the wall. He may have had only about eight planks left to secure to the metal, but he could barely pick himself up, so lifting the heavy wood was extra challenging. Plus, trying to both hold up the wall and drill into it at the same time was hard work.
At one point he had considered asking for help. But no one seemed to be around which was very odd. And he couldn’t exactly just leave the weak wall there alone; it was probably sturdy enough now, but he could hear the walkers scraping the panels hungrily on the other side. Plus he was pretty sure he still had tears pouring down his face and no one needed to see that.

So instead he had worked his ass off for the next four hours to get the job done.

It took a couple of minutes, but eventually he saw Carl standing outside on a porch, holding a sleeping Judith in his arms. Daryl made his way over to the young caregiver and stood next to him.

“Hey Daryl,” Carl spoke up and smiled, although his smile seemed kind of tense.

"What happened?” Daryl asked, easily picking up on the boy’s uneasiness.

In response, the young Grimes dropped his smile slightly and kicked the floor with his boot.

"It’s just—my dad and some of the others went on this supply run today. And apparently they found a whole truck of food. But I guess they hadn’t paid enough attention to their surroundings, because a walker came up and fell onto the truck’s gas pedal, and the truck zoomed away and hit a tree. Then it exploded.”

Daryl bit his already messed up lip as Carl spoke.

"Damm,” he said at last.

"Tough luck.”

"Really,” Carl agreed.

"But my dad has been kinda upset the past couple a' days, and this threw him over the edge I guess. He’s inside talking with Michonne, Glenn, and Abraham right now.”

Daryl nodded. He didn’t think it was his area to interfere so he nodded his goodbyes to Carl and was about to walk away…when he picked up a little bit of the conversation coming from inside.

—and it would’ve gone so much better”

"Yeah he’s much better at tracking than we are.”

“I know he’s hurt but—real let down, he should’ve been there.”

"Yeah, where is Daryl anyway?”

Stomach dropping, Daryl’s heart clenched when he realized that they were talking about him, calling him the let down.

Carl seemed to hear the conversation too because his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What are they even talking about?” he said, tuning to Daryl.
“You know that isn’t true. You’re not a let down. You're supposed to be staying in the walls until your arm's better anyway. I think they’re all just cranky and looking for someone to blame.”

But yet he couldn’t get over the fact that one of them had said that they had needed him, and that he was a let down.

He swallowed, turning his anxious eyes back to Carl who was looking at him with slight concern. Most likely the caregiver’s hormones were acting up, although Carl didn’t know that it was because of him.

"You’re right, it’s nothin’.”

Still, as Daryl walked away from the house, he couldn’t help but feel like he had been punched in his already bleeding gut. It may have meant nothing to him on any other day—Daryl knew how much Rick and the others loved him.

But today that small comment was enough to push him to the edge.

///////////////////

It was around 11pm when everything snapped for Daryl. After eating something small for dinner, his first real meal of the day, Daryl had decided to go help Maggie with the garden. He wasn’t much of a gardener himself, but Beth had taught him a few things.

Oh god, Beth…

The thought of the young woman had hit him suddenly while he was in the middle of digging up potatoes. He hadn’t had a moment to think about her in a while. In all honesty, he’d tried not to think about her, because when he did he always felt like crying.

He had tried to push the thought away, focusing on the garden or Maggie or his sore back or anything, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. He tried to make small talk with Maggie at some point, but had quickly shut up as soon as he had screwed up saying the word ‘also’, slurring the word in his speech. Maggie had gave him a weird glance at that, but she had probably thoughts that Daryl was more drunk or tired than anything else.

After a while of gardening, Daryl had looked up to the moon and determined that it was almost midnight. He heard Maggie yawn next to him and turned to look at her.

“It’s late,” she said.

"We should get ta' sleep soon, so we can wake up tomorrow.”

Daryl nodded, although he honestly wasn’t tired at all.

"You go, I’ll finish up this row real quick.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t for Maggie to casually agree with his statement and then walk away, saying nothing more than goodnight.

Shouldn’t she had noticed how he was barely standing up, or that he winced in pain every time he bent down? He supposed she was too tired to, and he found himself squeezing his wrist tightly.

Why should he care that someone else care? That’s so stupid. Maggie was a mother who was soon to give birth, she didn't care what Daryl was doing.

Swallowing his thoughts, Daryl continued to work down the row of potatoes in silence.

Rain.

“Daryl?” Beth asked as she leaned next to the archer, both of them watching the rain fall from the prison’s watch tower.

“Hm?”

"It’s just…I wanted to say that I—being around you makes me feel so at ease. I like caring for you, and you caring for me.”

Daryl turned his eyes towards Beth, a hint of surprise on his face.

"What do ya mean?”

Beth sighed and scooted closer to the archer, putting a small hand on his shoulder.

"Just-thank you. Thank you for being there.”

Daryl couldn’t help but let out a small smile as he leaned into Beth's touch.

“I’m glad you’re here too.”

As the final pieces of the memory of Beth faded from his mind, Daryl once again found himself crouched down in a muddy field of potatoes. He looked down at the laces tied to his shoes. They were Beth’s.

He missed her so much.

Thunder cracked above him and he jumped. Looking around, Daryl reached up and wiped his eyes, surprised to find them wet.

It was dark all around him and he could hear the sounds of walkers clawing at the wall nearby. His heartbeat pounded anxiously against his chest, and his mind felt like it was coated in a layer of honey. As another loud clash of thunder rolled through the sky, Daryl suddenly realized something.

He wasterrified.

Pushing himself up to a seating position, Daryl wiped his face with shaky hands, mug stinging his eyes, and thought about what had just happened.

He had just fallen.

Letting out a tired grunt, Daryl once again pushed his toned body to a standing position. This time he was able to take about two steps before he once again hit the floor.

The third time he barely managed to stand up before falling down. He scraped his right knee on a rock when he fell, and he let out a small whimper.

He couldn’t walk. What the f*ck was going on?

Tears continued to slide down his cheeks as he looked around. He was cold and he was tired and he was scared. He felt something warm pool in his crotch area and he couldn’t help but let out a small sob. He had just wet himself. Daryl f*cking Dixon had just pissed his pants.

His breathing grew faster as he took in his surroundings. He wanted Rick, or Merle, or Maggie, or…

He wanted Aaron. The only person alive who knew his secret.

The shadow continued to get closer and closer and Daryl started shaking violently.

He needed to do something! But he was so scared. He couldn’t trust the thoughts flowing through his head; to scream for someone or cry for a daddy that he didn’t have.

His breathing picked up even more, so much so that his vision had dark spots in it, and, as the shadow came almost within biting distance, he pressed his face into the floor.

Finally, he heard the familiar footsteps reach him, and he felt something drop down.

He choked down a sob as he realized that this was how it was going to end. He bit his cheek harshly, and anticipated the walker that was about to rip his face apart.

He flinched as he felt a hand grasp his shoulder…but it wasn’t cold like a walkers.

It was warm?

"Daryl?”

Chapter 6: A Caregiver's Embrace

Chapter Text

He felt a hand grasp his shoulder…but it wasn’t cold like a walkers.

It was warm?

"Daryl?”

/:-:/:-:/:-:/:-:/:-:/:-:/:-:/:-:/:-:/:-:/:-:/

Daryl’s eyes shot open instantly at the soft voice in front of him. It wasn’t a walker like he had thought. No, that voice belonged to a person, a very specific person.

Looking up through the tears, Daryl made out the hazy figure of his companion standing above him.

Aaron.

But he couldn’t help it; he was so scared.

“Daryl? Oh Daryl, what happened?”

Instead of giving a response however, all Daryl could do was shake and cry quietly, still overcome with millions of emotions.

“Hey there,” Aaron spoke up again, much softer than before. Both of his arms went up to grasp Daryl’s shoulders, resulting in a large flinch from the archer. "Just breath Daryl, you’re alright.”

Another loud crack of lightning erupted from the sky, and Daryl jumped.

"Daryl…? Are you feeling small right now?”

Daryl's breath hitched at the words of the caregiver. He knew deep down that he was plummeting deep into the headspace that he had so desperately pushed away...but he didn'twantto. He tried to push away all of his fuzzy emotions and think logically about what was goin on, however the caregiving hormones of comfort spraying off of the other man made it very hard for him to do so.

He unconsciously leaned into Aaron’s touch as he sniffled. He was soaked to the point that his hair was dripping water, but he could still smell the distinct odor of urine. He wondered if Aaron could smell it too.

"M' s-scared,” he whimpered at last, his glossy eyes filling with more water. His voice sounded so weak and he hated it, but he couldn't help it; it was like his tongue wasn't working properly.

He heard Aaron let out a sound that was a mix of a sigh and a coo. "Well, it’s a good thing I was outside then, hmm? You’re gonna be alright as long as I’m here.”

“N-na’ ma’?” he blubbered out, it getting harder and harder to speak by the second.

He watched as Aaron’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why on earth would I be mad?”

Daryl’s eyes simply dropped in response and he looked down sadly, watching as some of his tears fell and blended in with the falling rain.

Daryl hiccupped a sob and, at the next bolt of lightning, scooched even closer to Aaron, although he didn't even notice.

"It’s okay sweetheart,” Aaron spoke in a sweet tone, finally falling deep into his caregiver headspace as he moved his arms from Daryl’s shoulders to his waist, lifting the little to sit in his lap with ease.

He felt Daryl go rigid in his arms and turned down to face the boy. Instantly his heart melted at the sight. Daryl was sitting up right in his lap, staring at his chest. He was shaking even more than before, biting his lip to the point of bleeding in attempt to stop the whines trying to escape.

"Daryl? Buddy?” Aaron spoke, wrapping his arms a bit tighter around the smaller man.

Daryl hiccupped.
“I-I-I,” he choked on a sob.
“H-hurts,” was everything the little could get through before a loud sob cut through his throat.

And just like that, Daryl was full on bawling. His face fell into the crook of Aaron’s neck as he tried to push back the endless amount of cries erupting from him. The walkers outside seemed to have heard them too, as their moaning grew louder. At this rate, they were bound to wake up someone in Alexandria.

"…Oh baby boy,” Aaron spoke at last, rubbing circles on Daryl's back and rocking him softly back and forth. "You have a booboo? What hurts?”

The little didn’t respond though, his sobs only increasing as the walkers outside grew louder. Aaron softly pushed some of Daryl’s wet hair from his face.

"I promise it's all gonna be okay. Let’s get out of the rain so you don’t catch a cold, Hmm?”

After making it a couple houses down, Aaron finally stepped onto the porch of his own, glad to be out of the pouring rain. He had only been outside so he could drop off some tools at the supply room, but he had been caught in the storm.

Come to think of it, it was a good thing he was outside. Who knows what would’ve happened to Daryl? He wondered exactly how long the man had been out in the cold darkness.

He gently propped up Daryl with one arm as he used his other to knock on the door, and he blinked back surprise when the door swung open after just two knocks.

“Is that…is that Daryl?”

“Hey baby boy,” Aaron softly cooed, swaying Daryl back and forth as he carefully kicked off his wet shoes.

"You’re alright. We’re out of that scary rain now and we’re in my house. And Eric is here, your friend is here.”

“Oh my goodness,” Eric spoke softly as he stepped a little closer to Aaron.

“He’s so small.”

"I know,” Aaron responded, softly rubbing Daryl’s back. "I didn’t even think there were any littles of his age left in the world. They were already scarce to begin with.”

Eric looked at the little with sad eyes. “I wonder how hard it’s been for him.”

“You both are going to get sick, go start a shower and you guys can rinse off while I make some food and pick up some supplies.”

“Did you hear what he said? We’re gonna get you nice and clean, and then we’re gonna get you some yummy food before night night time. Does that sound good?”

Daryl simply sniffled in response and shyly glanced over to where Eric was giving him a soft smile.

"Hey Daryl,” Eric muttered softly, reaching up to rub Daryl’s shoulder. The little noticeably flinched before melting into the touch. His bottom lip continued to wobble, but thankfully his tears had almost stopped.

"Okay, I’m going to run over to the supply room and get a couple more things real quick, although his headspace seems to be the age that we have stuff for.”

He flicked on the bathroom light, thankful for Alexandria's community-produced electricity, and glanced over at their small shower. It was far too late to give Daryl a whole bath, but he also couldn’t give the little a shower by himself because he wasn’t even sure Daryl could stand without someone there for support.

Deciding to just shower with him, Aaron opened a cabinet, pulling out three towels, he placed two of them on the closed toilet seat, and the other on the bathroom counter.
By this point Daryl’s cries had just about dissipated, but as soon as Aaron tried to place him down on the counter top, the baby started to whimper again.
It seemed as though the little had gone fully into headspace as all that came from his mouth were sad cries as he tried to hold onto Aaron.

"Easy baby,” Aaron spoke, adjusting Daryl in his arms. “I’m not goin' anywhere, I promise. But I have to put you down so I can get you out of these wet clothes. You don’t want to feel icky all night, right?”

“I know, I know, I’m so mean,” Aaron cooed as he took five seconds to strip off his own wet clothes, exposing his toned frame. Then, he turned back to Daryl who was staring at him with wide eyes.

Aaron, gently reached forward, grabbing the sides of Daryl’s iconic leather jacket, slowly pulling it off of the frightened little. It wasn’t until he started to grab at Daryl’s shirt though, that the baby started to cry again.
Daryl tried pushing weakly at Aaron’s hands, eyes pooling with even more tears.
“N-Nu,” the little babbled, and Aaron couldn’t help but frown worriedly. It was normal for littles to be shy when it came to stuff like taking baths…but Daryl genuinely looked terrified. He wondered what exactly had made him like that…he had been perfectly fine one second ago, and now he was panicking.

"Shh, baby boy. I promise I’m not gonna hurt you. But we have to get these icky clothes off so you don’t get sick.”

Aaron soon realized why Daryl had been so petrified.

Littered all over the little's back and chest were deep lines of scars that looked like they’d been from knifes and whippings. Looking closer, Aaron also saw a purple bruise the size of his foot forming on the man’s lower back.

He only focused on one of his questions though, and he tried to seem as serene and put together as possible when he spoke.

"Sweetheart, how did you get that big bruise?”

it seemed like it took a minute for the little to comprehend Aaron's question, but once he did, the he looked almost ashamed. Daryl began to speak, but he was so small and scared that the words he spoke mixed together into small babbles. Clearly, he was upset by this, as yet another whine built up in his throat. Aaron cut the little off before he could attempt to form words for the 3rd time.

“It’s okay lovely, I know everything must seem so big and scary right now, hmm?”

Aaron gave a sad smile when Daryl nodded.

"Can I just ask you one thing? Did the owie happen on accident?”

The little sniffled and averted his gaze as he shook his head. Arron stiffened in response.

don’t tell me…

"Daryl, did someone do that to you?”

He snapped out of his frenzy when he felt Daryl grab onto his shirt and tug it a little. looking down at the teary eyed boy, he couldn't help but coo. He definitely needed to talk with Daryl when the little was out of his headspace…but he had no idea when that would be.

He watched as Daryl eyed him skeptically before looking at the chewer, and after a moment the little opened his mouth slightly. Aaron’s heart swelled as he realized that Daryl was quietly asking him to give him the pacifier, and he did so, before quickly walking over to turn on the shower. Once he had determined that the water was a good temperature, he walked back over to Daryl who had surprisingly stopped crying. He still looked gloomy, but he seemed to be much more content as he chewed the pacifier and swung his feet back and forth.

Aaron reached out his arms for the little, and when Daryl looked up and reached out his own, Aaron was able to scoop him up into his strong hold.

-------

The shower went by pretty fast. Aaron had rinsed them both off while Daryl stood and clutched onto Aaron’s body; he was sure that if Daryl had let go, he would’ve fallen over because of how young his headspace seemed to be. They washed hair without an issue, and for the most part Aaron was able to wash Daryl’s body. It was only when he reached the private parts that the little had started to shiver. It was normal to be embarrassed…but judging from the old lash marks that remained embedded in Daryl’s skin right around that area, he suspected there was more to why the little was scared.
So of course he had reassured Daryl that everything would be alright. After a couple minutes of that, he was able to get his boy nice and clean.

When Aaron turned off the shower, he carefully lifted Daryl back up and then walked them both over to where the towels laid. He grabbed one and wrapped it around the little’s waist, watching as goosebumps formed on his skin. He then placed Daryl back on the counter and wrapped himself in a towel as well. Turning back to Daryl, he saw the little gazing at him with tired eyes. At this point the tears had stopped, and all that remained was the puffy red features on his face.

“I have some clothes and things set out on the bed, are you guys ready?”

Aaron smiled softly at the carefully masked worry in Eric’s voice. It was obvious that the other caretaker was spooked as much as he was, but it showed just how much they both cared about Daryl.

"Coming,” Aaron replied as he gently held out his arms to Daryl. He waited patiently for the little to accept and hold out his own arms before taking him in his hold.

"Let's go get you dressed all nice and comfy,” Aaron muttered to the both of them as he supported Daryl with one hand and opened the bathroom door with the other. It was known that littles had more sensitive skin, so there was a whole line of clothes made specifically to suit them—both in and out of headspace. It was obvious that Daryl didn’t have those type of clothes, so he hoped whatever Eric found felt good on him.

Daryl seemed to wake up a bit when Aaron let go of him, but Eric quickly distracted him by running a hand through his wet locks, giving Aaron time to get dressed.

Carefully unfolding the diaper, Aaron tried to lift up the little’s legs and get him padded while he was distracted. Sadly, that didn’t work as the second Aaron reached out to him, Daryl noticed the item in his hands and instantly froze. The caregiver watched as the little’s face turned red with shame as he tried to wiggle away from Eric’s supporting arms. The pacifier slipped out from his mouth as he started to cry. "N-Nuh," Daryl whined, wiggling under Eric's weight. "I-I d-don'-I d-don' 'eed it!" Aaron paused and looked over at Eric for a second. Daryl's wording was very garbled and strained...but the fact that he could say any sentence at all proved that the little was actively fighting his headspace. After all, seeing how he had acted when Aaron had first found him, the caretaker concluded that his words were much less like babbles right now.

Trying to ease the little as much as he could, Aaron placed the diaper out of sight and lowered Daryl's legs, instead reaching up to rub small circles on his stomach. "It's okay baby boy, don't fight it, just relax. Me and Eric are here for you now, and we'll talk about the big boy stuff another time. Right now all you need is some good food and snuggles."

Daryl seemed to milk in all of Aaron's smooth words, watching the caregiver skeptically, but also yearningly. It made Aaron want to punch someone and hug Daryl tightly all at the same time. How could a little be so scared of his headspace? What had happened to him?

Slowly, Aaron reached back for the diaper, holding it up to Daryl's view. "You know nothing is wrong with needing a little bit of protection, right? You're a very little boy, and very little boys need extra help sometimes."

"It doesn't make you any less strong," Eric continued, jumping into the conversation. He picked up the discarded soother and held it back to Daryl's lips. "You're still the bravest and strongest boy I know." Hearing these words, Daryl's pupils seemed to dilate like a cat's, and Aaron could tell from the moment he glanced over at him, that the little had slowly started to fall back down into the depths of regression. Aaron gave a warm smile as Daryl accepted the pacifier back from Eric, and kept eye contact with the little as he slowly raised his legs. This time, Daryl didn't stop him, although he looked nervous. Aaron quickly slid the diaper under him before sprinkling in some baby powder and taping up the thick undergarment. When he was all done, he reached down and blew a raspberry into Daryl's battered chest.

"What a brave boy you are," he cooed, and he watched Daryl's sad eyes fill with pride. It made him sick to see how foreign the words of praise seemed to see to the little-he would definitely need to do it more often. He took a second to just watch Daryl with loving eyes, before turning his attention to other things. He thought of the large bruise on Daryl's back. They didn't have much, but Aaron thought of some of the medications they had brought home the other day. I wonder if Advil would help,he thought.But I'm not sure he could swallow a pill...maybe we have some liquid Tylenol.

He glanced over and saw Eric rummaging through the bag of stuff he'd brought. After a moment, the man pulled out three different styles of onesies. "We can get more things later, but I have these for now, as well as some better adult clothes for his skin." Aaron nodded and watched as Daryl looked over at the onesies. One was yellow with orange squiggly lines on it. The other one was a dark blue and had ears on its hood to make it look like a blue bear. The last one was another dark blue onesie, but this one had hints of light green throughout it, as well as a small green dinosaur on the front. Eric held the choices in front of the little for him to chose.

"Come on sweetheart, which one do you want?" Eric coaxed after a moment of Daryl just staring. The little seemed to have already made his choice, but yet looked almost weary of telling the caregivers which one it was...almost like he was afraid they wouldn't like it. At last, one of Daryl's hands came up and grasped the dinosaur one. He looked up at Aaron for confirmation that his choice was okay, and Aaron just smiled warmly back in response. "Okay baby boy, let's get you dressed," Aaron said, taking the chosen onesie from Eric's hands. While Eric put away the other clothes, Aaron carefully unbuttoned the onesie before carefully grabbing one of Daryl's legs. With lots of encouragement, and some help from Eric, Aaron was finally able to dress Daryl. As he buttoned up the crotch of the onesie, he fawned over how adorable Daryl looked. Dressed in these clothes with the thickness of a diaper showing faintly through them and a pacifier in his mouth, Daryl looked so small and so little.

And when Aaron held out his arms for Daryl, the little didn't hesitate to reach out, unlike earlier. Instead he let himself be taken into Aaron's grasp, enjoying the warmth from the caregiver's body, and the protective hormones that both of the caretakers had radiating off of them.

"Alright," Aaron said after a moment of just milking in Daryl's softness. "Let's go get some food.”

•~•~•~•

Aaron, Eric, and Daryl all sat comfortably on the brown sofa in the living room. Daryl rested snuggly on Aaron's lap, while Eric sat to his right, gently leaning into his lover's side. Despite all that had happened in one night, there was a comfortable silence radiating between the little and caregivers. Aaron had crafted a bottle of water and instant formula filled with nutrients as well as some liquid Tylenol for Daryl to suck on ( milk would have been preferred, but sadly Alexandria had no cows at the moment).The little had been practically asleep by the time the three of them had made it to the kitchen, and both caregivers had silently concluded that it wasn't best to force him to scarf down a meal( they would definitely be making him eat a big breakfast though, seeing as how he was all bone and muscle).

It took a little bit of coaxing for Daryl to leave his pacifier and drink from the bottle, but after a couple of tentative sucks, the archer had melted happily into Aaron's arms, enjoying the sweet taste of the room temperature milk as it filled his stomach. While Aaron gently held the bottle in place for Daryl, Eric spoon fed the caregiver occasional bites of sweet potato and carrots, eating some himself as well.

It was the first time in a while that Aaron had felt content; they all seemed like a happy family. His brain pushed away all the long talks and emotions and fights that were bound to come later, and instead tried to live in the moment for as long as he could.

He looked down when he felt the suckling on the bottle stop, and let out a small coo at the sight of Daryl passed out in his lap, the nipple of the now empty bottle still parting his lips. He smiled and removed the bottle, replacing it with the pacifier instead before leaning over and pressing a light kiss to the little's forehead.

He turned to face Eric who was watching fondly. "I say we get ready for bed. I'm thinkin' he sleeps with us tonight. I don't know how he'd react to waking up in a fully decked out nursery." Eric nodded and stood up, collecting their discarded plates and cups. "I'll go wash these real quick and then we can head on over."

"Actually," Aaron said, shifting Daryl in his arms. "Do you wanna take him up? He's real light so I don't think you should have an issue."

"Is he actually so light that someone like me could lift him up?" Eric joked, although Aaron could sense the slight worry in his voice.

"I'm positive," Aaron reassured, watching as Eric placed down the dishes. Once he wasn't holding anything, Eric crouched down and held out two shaky arms. He seemed so focused on not dropping Daryl. It was cute. Aaron carefully managed to shift the sleeping little into the other caregiver's arms, and watched with faint amusem*nt as Eric lifted him up swiftly. The other man seemed surprised as his own strength, and looked over to Aaron with a shocked expression.

"See, I told you that you could do it," Aaron spoke as he stood up, picking up the dishes and glancing over at Daryl. The little was now firmly pressed into Eric's arms, his face hidden in the man's shoulder.

"Alright, let's get to bed," Aaron quietly spoke as he walked over to the kitchen, discarding the dirty dishes in the sink-he'd deal with them tomorrow. He then turned around and followed Eric, who was carefully walking up the stairs to get back to their room and taking extra precaution not to jostle the little. When they made it to their room, Aaron held the door open for Eric, and then followed the caregiver over to the bed. Bending over, Eric gently laid the little down in the center of the king sized bed. Aaron came up from behind, holding a grey blanket, and carefully draped the material over the sleeping man. He had to stifle another fond sigh as Daryl curled into the blanket, all of the usual creases in his forehead smoothed out to show his gorgeous skin. He looked so small like this, and Aaron found himself wondering how he had never noticed that the man was a little right when they first met.

Eric yawned and sat himself down on one edge of the bed, while Aaron took the other side. Daryl was sandwiched between the two. "Do you think he'll freak out when he comes out of his headspace?" Eric asked, as both of the caregivers situated themselves under the covers. Aaron sighed in response, looking over at the little boy who seemed to be sleeping so peacefully right then. "Oh, I know he will. But he also knows that he can't push away his needs forever...so I think we can work things out."

Eric hummed in response and reached over, Daryl, grabbing Aaron's idle hand, suddenly very serious, "I saw...I saw the scars," he spoke. "We need to talk to him about those soon."

Aaron nodded and squeezed Eric's hand. "We will, but right now we all need some rest."

Eric nodded, resting his head against his pillow. "Sweet dreams, I love you."

"I love you too."

Chapter 7: Shower Thoughts

Chapter Text

Daryl was fifteen when the first signs of his classification started to show.

Typically, between the ages of thirteen and sixteen, a person would begin to develop certain traits and actions that often identified with what their classification would be. For example, people who started to feel a strong urge for protecting others and being a leader, were most likely caregivers. On the other hand, people who started to display more childlike behaviors, like sudden mood swings, or sleepiness during the day, were almost always littles. People who stayed relatively the same were neutrals. Regardless of if you had or hadn't started to notice the changes in your body and attitude due to your classification, on the day of your sixteenth birthday, your blood was drawn and tested, and you were given an official classification. Then the appropriate arrangements were made so that your biological needs were properly met.

Daryl's experience had been very different.

He had never had an official classification test, mainly because his parents had been ashamed of what they knew he was.

Alittle.

This was because on one Sunday morning, a couple months before he turned sixteen, Daryl had woken up to a wet bed...he hadn't wet the bed since he was six years old.

Needless to say, when his dad had slammed open the door to his small, shabby room, and smelled the strong stench of urine, he was livid. Daryl couldn't remember exactly how many lashes he had gotten with the belt, or how long it took. He just knew that by the time his dad had finished, his skin was long gone, and the early morning sun had started to set. Eventually, his dad left, a string of curses leaving his mouth as he slammed the old door to the room, leaving Daryl in a pile of blood and tears on the rotting wood floor.

His dad hadn't shown up the rest of the day, and all throughout the night. Shortly after the man had left, Merle had walked into the room holding a bottle of water and a towel, gagging as he looked over at the untouched soiled bed, before he took a seat next to Daryl and hoisted him up to a sitting position.

"Make sure that never happens again," Merle had said as he began to absentmindedly rub over the scabbing wounds on his little brother's back, checking to see if any of them looked infected. Thinking back on the moment, Merle seemed to be disgusted with the fact that Daryl had wet himself. Although, he could also sense that the disgusted look on Merle's face was partly due to the fact that someone had hurt his baby brother. It was a sort of awful tough love that the two brothers shared.

At last, after Merle deemed Daryl's wounds to be not lethal, he stood up, dropping the blood-soaked towel and half empty water bottle next to Daryl on the floor.

"Sleep on the floor tonight, since the mattress is dirty. Sleep on ya belly so that the cuts on ya back can scab up."

And with that advice, Merle had walked out of the room, leaving Daryl, who was still broken to pieces, alone.

He didn't go to sleep that night, he couldn't with all that had happened. His body, and mind, and heart had never ached so bad. He had felt like he was being skinned alive.

Around eight in the morning the next day, Daryl's room door was pushed open, and his dad walked in. Daryl, not being asleep, stared up groggily at the old man and watched as he fumbled for something in his pocket. At last, the man pulled out a small white bottle and threw it at Daryl, hitting him in the chest. Even back then with his pea-sized brain, Daryl knew what the illegal pills were for.

"One, twice a day, ev'ry day."

With that, the geezer stomped out of the room, once again slamming the old door behind him.

That was the last time Daryl had ever wet the bed-that is, until the apocalypse started.

Apart from having to forge the classification documents when Daryl had hit sixteen, his father had never once directly mentioned what he was ever again, although the increased amount of beatings he got proved that the man hated what he was. His mother, on the other hand, was so drunk that she couldn't even tell that he was her son half of the time.

And Merle, Daryl didn't know. He knew that he hated the fact that his little brother was an actual little. But deep down, Daryl thinks he was the only one who actually cared for him, even if his way of showing it was through abuse and insults.

//////////////////////////////////////////////

The first thing Daryl noticed when he had slipped back into consciousness was that he was on something very soft. His eyes gently cracked open, and with a small groan he stretched out his arms and legs. It was only when he had settled back down and rubbed his eyes, that he realized he was wrapped in the covers of a king-sized bed.

Gently sitting up, Daryl looked around the neatly kept room, slight panic starting to form in his chest. This definitely wasn't his room, so where was he?

Suddenly, the door to the room, which was across from the large bed, was twisted open slowly, and Daryl jumped, pressing his back to the brown head rest and pulling the blankets up on him in a vain attempt to hide himself. However, when Aaron slowly walked in with a small smile, dressed in a simple blue top and sweatpants, suddenly everything made sense.

He remembered the night before, all the tears and the pain. He remembered Aaron finding him, and taking him back to his house, where him and Eric got him bathed and fed. He remembered the couple's reactions to his scars, but also their sweet words and praises as they calmed his cries and made him feel loved. He realized that the bed he was sitting in was the bed that Aaron and Eric had tucked him into last night.

"Good morning."

Daryl blinked and found himself face to face with Aaron. The concerned caregiver had taken a seat on the edge of the bed and was now reaching out to wipe the sweat that was forming on Daryl's brow.

Daryl tensed as the man's soft hand wiped away his sweat, and he opened his mouth to speak, when an object fell from it. Looking down, Daryl realized that there was now a used pacifier laying in his lap. He had been sucking a pacifier this whole time and hadn't noticed. Not to mention, he hadn't noticed what he was wearing. It looked like he was in a onesie of some sorts and...

Daryl's eyes bulged out of his head as he turned to look up at Aaron. Surprisingly, the caregiver seemed to sense exactly what had worked him up, as he moved his hand to gently rub at Daryl's shoulder.

"It's okay Daryl. I know you know that having to wear a little bit of extra protection is completely normal for a little as young as you. Me and Eric just wanted to be prepared."

The little gulped and looked down at his crotch again. The area was noticeably swollen from the thickness of the diaper, and now that he had acknowledged its existence, he couldn't ignore the fact that it was soaking wet.

"I-I don't understand," Daryl rasped out, turning back to face the caregiver. He wasn't sure if he should be mad or sad or even glad about all that happened the night before. After all, just being in his headspace for those short amount of hours had felt like total bliss...but it had also been so disgusting. Rubbing his face with one hand, he couldn't help but groan softly. His head felt like it was splitting into two, and everything around him still felt unusually fuzzy.

"I promise we will talk and figure this out in a little bit; I know how sudden and hard last night must've been on you," Aaron spoke, pressing a hand to Daryl's forehead. "And it looks like the rain might've given you a bit of a cold. I think we have some medicine for that."

Daryl watched silently as Aaron stood up off the bed and offered his hand. He took it, although he didn't know why. It's not like he was mad at Aaron or anything, the man had basically saved his life and dignity the other day. It was just...he was never one to willingly accept help from others, so why was barely batting an eye when Aaron was rubbing his shoulders and playing with his hair?

When he stood up, he noticeably winced. He had almost forgotten about the back pain, but standing up had made it a lot worse. The caregiver seemed to notice, as he grabbed Daryl just a bit tighter and his eyebrows furrowed sadly.

Aaron led Daryl to the small bathroom connected to the bedroom, and when Daryl entered, he found a pile of clothes folded neatly on the counter.

"Here," Aaron said, gesturing to the clothes. "So you can get dressed after you clean up." Daryl nodded and let go of the man's hand, stumbling over to the clothes and unfolding them to see what they looked like. It was a plain blue sweatshirt and some black pants. It looked cozy, which was not at all his normal clothing style.

Aaron cleaned his throat, making Daryl turn around to face him. The caregiver was now holding a couple things, including a loofa, some baby wipes, and a..."

"I amnotwearin' that," Daryl snapped, looking at the insulting padding in Aaron's head. It was like just seeing the material had managed to bring back his usual spunk.

Aaron simply smiled softly and walked into the bathroom, placing the items on the counter. "I know you don't want to wear it, but Daryl. You and I both know you aren't feeling completely big right now, and I think it would be best. Its just a pullup too, so you can just slide it on. I brought some boxers just in case though."

Aaron walked back over to the door, stepping out of the bathroom. "It's okay if you can't Daryl-just please try. Take a shower, and then you can come down for breakfast." He paused for a moment before adding: "Please just yell if you need any help."

And with that, Aaron shut the door to the bathroom, leaving a very confused Daryl alone.

----------------

It had taken an embarrassingly long time for Daryl to get done with his shower.

The first challenge he had faced was getting undressed. For some reason the buttons on his embarrassing dinosaur onesie were almost impossible to pop off. It took him over five minutes before he finally found the trick to unhooking him. He understood that the buttons were made that way so that littles wouldn't rip off their clothes whenever, but that just made him feel even worse knowing that he was just like every other dumb little.

Then, when he had finally pulled of the sweaty pajama, the sight of the swollen diaper between his legs made him gag. The color was sickening, and the noises it made every time Daryl twisted his body around left him feeling so ashamed. He had ripped off the undergarment quickly and stuffed it at the bottom of the trashcan completely out of sight, not wanting Aaron or Eric to see it (despite the fact that he knew they'd seen it all before).

During the whole bathing process, Daryl's coordination had been embarrassingly sloppy. He had dropped the shampoo bottle twice before managing to squeeze some of the product out, and then just one second later he managed to get half of the vanilla-flavored soap all in his eyes. His back ached from the events of the previous day, and it was getting more painful by the minute. His legs were quaking as he showered, and in the middle of it all, Daryl suddenly realized why Aaron had thought he might need help. Truthfully, taking the shower was a large struggle, and it probably would've gone much smoother if someone were there to help him.

But Daryl Dixon couldn't even begin to think about ever asking someone to help bathe him...

After a good 30 minutes of struggling, Daryl finally stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself tightly in a light green towel that he had found folded on the toilet. Goosebumps rose on his mangled flesh as he carefully wiped away the excess water from his skin and hair. He twisted his head around and looked at his back through the foggy mirror. It was still a sickening shade of dark purple, and it made him wince.

Once he had dried off, Daryl dropped the towel to the floor and turned his attention to the clothes Aaron had brought. He grabbed the blue sweatshirt first and carefully lifted it over his frame, adjusting it properly.

It felt so...soft. This wasn't what his clothes normally felt like; everything he wore always felt itchy and made him feel uncomfortable. He played with the material of the sleeve and admired the intricate weaving of the wool.

Of course...

Aaron and Eric must've found him some actual little clothes. He was always aware that littles had very sensitive skin and needed different clothing even out of headspace, but as a teen he had been taught that surrendering into his little needs made him weak. He had never understood why people loved to wrap themselves into bundles of clothes, until now.

It felt...nice. And knowing that Eric and Aaron had gone out of their way to get him clothes made his face flush.

After rubbing the fabric of the sweatshirt a little longer, Daryl absentmindedly reached over to grab a pair of boxers, when his hand crabbed a crinkly material. His face dropped into a scowl as he suddenly reminded what Aaron had proposed.

"You and I both know you aren't feeling completely big right now, and I think it would be best. "

While the caregiver hadn't ordered Daryl to put on the pullup, the man had seemed pretty hopeful he'd do so.

Daryl picked up the soft material and held it in his arms. He didn't want to wear it, not one bit. There was no way he would willingly put this insulting object on his body. He wasn't even sure why he hadn't just thrown it away already.

Sighing, he walked over to the tiny trashcan in the bathroom and reached over to drop the garment inside.

What if he gets mad at you?

Daryl paused as the thought suddenly came into his mind. No way would Aaron be mad if he didn't wear it, it's not like the man had forced him to anyway. He wasn't even sure why he cared, Aaron wasn't his dad...

But what if you have an accident in front of the others and there's nothing to prevent it?

Lowering his hand from the trashcan, Daryl brought the pullup towards him again. He had never really had any daytime accidents...but he had also never really fallen into his headspace like he had done last night. He bit his lip hard, the frown on his face deepening. He knew that he wasn't in a fully adult mindset right now, but did that really mean he wouldn't be able to tell if he had to go to the bathroom?

At last Daryl sighed, stretching apart the absorbent material. Being as balanced as he could, Daryl carefully lifted up one foot and stepped into the padding, and then followed with the other foot. The pullup was white with light blue lines bordering it, and when Daryl slid it into place, he had a thought that made him gag.

It wasso soft.

It was like a cloud had wrapped itself on his lower half, and Daryl could instantly tell that just having the padding on had pushed him slightly closer to his headspace. He scowled and reached over to grab the grey sweatpants, quickly pulling them up so that they would hide the infuriating material. He had to tie the pants with the string because they were a little bit too large, and when he finally looked up at his reflection again in the mirror, he couldn't recognize who was looking back.

He never thought he could have ever looked even remotely close to a little, but seeing himself in the mirror, huddled up in saggy clothing with wet hair plastered to his face, he was actually starting to believe that maybe his classification wasn't totally wrong.

Of course, those thoughts stopped quickly, and Daryl found himself biting his cheek again as he made sure the pullup wasn't visible under the clothes.

Being a little didn't suit him; it was wrong. Daryl continued to repeat these words in his head as he finished getting ready.

Although the more he said them, the less he began to believe them...

Chapter 8: Food and Feelings

Chapter Text

Daryl's legs quaked as he slowly made his way down the wooden stairs of the house, some occasional drops of water still dripping from his washed hair. His back was aching and his head was throbbing, and he was so scared to see what Eric and Aaron would say to him when he got downstairs.

He knew they had seen the scars, and the cuts, and the large bruise. And most importantly, he knew that they knew that he was a young little, one who had been pushing away his headspace practically his whole life. No matter how much he wished the couple would just drop everything and leave him be, and that they could go back to like before...he knew that wouldn't happen now. He knew it.

And he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

A sweet aroma enveloped the house as Daryl made his way to the first floor, slowly walking towards the kitchen. He heard talking, the familiar voices of Aaron and Eric, but he couldn't make out what the hushed voices were saying. Walking closer, Daryl tried to tune into their conversation. Taking soft steps, he made his way next to the doorway of the kitchen and hid behind the wall.

"...wonder what he's thinkin'."

"Yeah, it's probably a lot to proce-"

The couple's conversation abruptly stopped at the sound of the wood floor creaking loudly.

Daryl scowled in response and looked down at the floor beneath his feet.

Stupid floor.

Sighing, he pushed himself off of the caramel-colored wall and turned to enter the kitchen, when he ran right into Aaron.

Stumbling backwards in surprise, Daryl braced himself to fall against the cold wood floor.

But instead, two strong arms wrapped around his frame and hauled him back up to his feet.

"It looks like someone was spying on us," Aaron's soft voice spoke from above as Daryl was pulled into his chest. The caregiver's hormones were still spilling out uncontrollably, and it scared Daryl how nice they made him feel.

After a moment, Aaron pulled away with a small "sorry," probably realizing that Daryl didn't want to be coddled. However, the caregiver did sofly brush a hand against Daryl's bottom, and the man's eyes noticeably lit up, probably realizing that Daryl had put the pullup on.

"...Hi," Daryl spoke softly, meeting eyes with Aaron, and then Eric who was over at the counter, pulling out plates from the cabinet above him.

"Good morning Daryl, did ya sleep alright?" Eric spoke with a light smile on his face, although Daryl could see the worry in his eyes.

He bit his lip in response, shifting on his feet.

"Um..."

He felt Aaron's hand being placed on his shoulder.

"Why don't you go sit down at the table over there," Aaron spoke, gesturing over to the kitchen table. "We'll have some breakfast...well, more like lunch now, and then we can talk."

All Daryl could muster was a small nod in response, and he slowly made his way over to the table, taking a seat at the circular table. His whole body still felt fuzzy, and the padding of the pullup on his bottom plus the suffocating caregiver hormones were making it worse.

Aaron walked over a moment later, placing a cup full of water, and two pills in front of Daryl. "Those should help with the pain," Aaron muttered sadly, and watched as Daryl eyed them carefully. After a moment, the little picked them up and held them in his hand, before looking back up at Aaron.

"Don't worry, there is more than enough medicine to go around."

Satisfied, Daryl quickly shoved the pills in his mouth, washing them down with a big gulp of water. Some of the liquid seeped down his chin and he hastily wiped it away, blush creeping up his cheeks as he prayed that Aaron didn't see the childish behavior.

Looking back up, he saw that the man had walked away for a moment, but was now returning with three plates of food. Eric followed, holding some forks and cups of a liquid Daryl couldn’t tell.

“Thank you…” Daryl mumbled quietly as Eric placed another cup of what looked like fresh apple juice in front of him, and then sat down with his own plate to the right of Daryl, Aaron taking his own seat to the left of him. He noticed that he was now sandwiched between both caregivers, and looking at his eggs, he dully noted that someone had cut them into smaller pieces…but he chose to ignore these details for the sake of his own dignity.

Eric smiled fondly at Daryl's shy words, and took a small bite of his eggs, humming proudly as he ate. "I have to say, this is some of my best work."

Hearing that, Daryl slowly lifted up his fork and stabbed it into a bit of the egg. He hadn't been that hungry, but after placing the egg in his mouth and chewing slowly, his eyes widened a bit at how good they tasted. He reached for another bite as soon as he had swallowed the first, and he heard Aaron chuckle beside him.

Silence then passed over the small table for a little while. All three of the men ate their food, and Daryl could feel warmth, as well as something else, floating through the air. Finally though, the little bubble of serenity was burst, and Daryl stiffened as Aaron began to speak, knowing what was about to come next.

”Daryl…why were you out in the rain?”

Aaron’s sweet voice made Daryl’s stomach churn, and the little set down his fork on his half eaten eggs, suddenly not that hungry anymore.

”I…I was helpin’ Maggie in the garden, an’ then the rain started,” Daryl spoke quickly, picking up his cup of juice and taking a sip, trying to look anywhere but at the caregivers beside him.

He heard Eric hum next to him. “And…what happened to cause the big bruise on your back?”

Feeling like he was in a sort of interrogation, Daryl's frame curled into himself slightly. He placed down his cup and lifted his eyes to look back up at Eric. The man was giving him a look of complete worry. Sighing, he started twiddling his fingers together. He supposed he should be glad that the man only asked about the bruise, and not the scars.

"Because of my arm, I wasn't leavin' Alexandria for the day. So, I decided to help these guys fix part of the wall. They were all lookin' at me funny, but I didn' think too much of it...everyone looks a' me funny." Daryl stopped and took a breath, reminding himself of the painful moment when one of the guys had dropped a large, at least 60-pound-chunk of the wall on his back.

"I was just holdin' up the wall, an' then one of the guys dropped a big chunk of it on my back. It hurt-it hurt like sh*t. He said it was an accident, but they were all smilin' so big. An' then they left, and I had to fix the wall anyway."

The silence that filled the room was sickening.

"I should've told Rick,” Daryl muttered after a moment, starting to feel a bit anxious. "It's just...y'know...". He almost flinched when Aaron's strong arm wrapped around his shoulders suddenly.

"I'msosorry Daryl," Aaron muttered. "I know it must’ve hurt a lot...and you must've been so scared dealing with that all alone."

Daryl simply hummed in response. He knew what Aaron actually meant. Aaron was well aware that Daryl was a killing machine and a strong warrior, and that he did almost everything alone, like a lone wolf. But Aaron was referring to the fact that Daryl must've fallen into partial headspace at that moment, which is why the thunder and the scary noises inevitably caused him to slip fully later.

"I still think we should go to the doctor and check it out...or at least put some ice-"

"Ice is fine," Daryl spoke quickly, cutting Eric off in the middle of his sentence. "I mean...ice is fine."

More silence.

"...we can do ice and see what happens."

Daryl curled into himself even more, Eric's unreadable tone startling him. He didn't expect to feel so bubbly in response to hearing an upset caregiver. He had heard Rick and the others accidentally using their caregiver voices when they were upset before, and it always made him feel a bit queasy...but not like this. He wondered if Eric and Aaron understood why he didn't want to go to the doctor. They had seen it, his battered skin, and considering the fact that Daryl had never showed it off before, they should have picked up on the fact that he didn't exactly like that part of himself.

Clearing his throat, Daryl reached down and grabbed his fork, taking another small bite of the eggs that suddenly didn't taste as good. He chewed slowly, feeling the eyes of both caregivers burning holes in the sides of his head. Finally, he couldn't take the tension anymore, and he dropped his fork back down, steeling his mind for the conversation ahead.

"Say what ya need to say."

Here comes the fight.

"You need to be little, Daryl." Aaron's hand was on his upper back now, rubbing small circles over it, despite how tense his touch was making the archer.

He dropped his head slightly and continued to twist his fingers. He knew he needed to be little; he had heard all about the dangerous effects repressing headspace could bring.

But every time he even began to think about how nice it would be to play with some toys, or cuddle up under a warm blanket, an image of his dad holding a belt with a large scowl, or his brother looking at him like he was a co*ckroach, or his mom's glossy eyes staring at him the day he had found her in a drunk coma after hearing about his classification, kept replaying in his head.

"I know," he spoke quietly.

"Let us be your caregivers."

"...what?"

Daryl's jaw went slack as his head whipped up to look at both of his friends.

"You're joking."

"No we aren't."

Feeling his heartbeat start to pound in his ears, Daryl almost scoffed at the sincerity in both men's voices.

"You're lyin'," he spoke up finally, and he knew that the quivering in his voice was very noticeable. He heard the sound of chairs squeaking, and suddenly, Daryl found himself squeezed practically shoulder-to-shoulder between both of the caregivers.

"Why do you think we're lying sweetheart?"

Daryl was on fire.

His head was buzzing, and the sweet voice that Aaron had just used, one full with nothing but love, made staying in his big headspace almost impossible. He didn't know if the caregivers had meant to set him off, but he pushed back his headspace with all his willpower. He couldn't slip right now, he wasn't ready.

"I-I've got to go," Daryl stuttered out, standing up quickly from the table and making his cup of juice shake dangerously.

"What? Daryl! wait!" Eric yelled as both caregivers stood up, following the panicking little as he made his way to the door. The archer's hand had just reached the doorknob, when he felt a warm hand grasp his own. Turning around, Daryl watched as Aaron lifted his trembling hand to his chest and squeezed it tight.

"I'm sorry Daryl," the man said, with a slight panic to his own voice.

"It doesn't have to be us, it's just-".

"No."

“...”

Daryl was stunned by his own words, and he looked up at the confused faces of both caregivers.

He sighed. "I mean-I just...this is so stressful. B-but...it wouldn't be anyone else...no one else would want me." The last part coming out as barely a whisper, Daryl turned around, not daring to look both men in the eyes. He twisted open the door, and surprisingly, no one stopped him. But Aaron's hand did tighten over his right before he made his way out.

"We will always want you Daryl. Take your time, but please don't say that about yourself. We will all work through this together. You are loved."

With those words, Aaron let go of Daryl's hand, and Daryl took a shaky step outside onto the porch. He still didn't turn around, because he didn't want to show the disgusting look of sadness that was clear on his face.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled, although he was sure only he could hear it, and listened to the door click closed behind him. When he was sure he was alone on the porch, he finally raised a hand up to rub the tears forming in his eyes. He sniffled and pulled the hood of the sweatshirt he had been given to cover his face.

The weather outside was nice, and he quickly slipped through the roads of Alexandria, praying no one would recognize him as he made his way back to 'his house.' He wasn't even sure he would be able to hold a conversation if someone spoke to him now. Tears continued to pool in his eyes despite his desperate attempts to stop them. Luckily though, the baggy clothes he was wearing, which wasn't something he would usually wear, seemed to distract the other Alexandrians from recognizing and speaking to him.

Walking clumsily up the steps of his own little house, Daryl twisted the door knob and quickly let himself in. He had left his shoes at the caregivers' house, so his feet were covered in dirt, but he didn't care. Looking around the space of the main room, he sighed in partial relief when he noticed that the others were gone. It made sense, he supposed. It was mid-day, so they were all probably out doing tasks that Daryl should be doing as well. But he couldn't stomach having to do work right now. Instead, he slowly made his way up to his room, collapsing on his bed and hoping he could sleep the pain away.

------------------------

Aaron sighed as he watched Daryl make his way off of the porch and down the path. It was obvious how much the little was hurting, and it made him want to scream.

"God damn it," he muttered, bringing his hand to rub away the tears that were pooling in his eyes. He felt Eric wrap his arms around his waist and press his head into his neck. Wetness seeped into his shirt.

"It's gonna be okay, Eric spoke, although the man's voice was wobbly. "We'll help him-someone will help him. And trust me, he is gonna be the happiest little boy in the world."

Aaron sniffled, and let let himself be held tightly.

"I hope so."

--------

3 hours later...

Groaning tiredly, Daryl flung the thick covers of the bed off of him in exasperation. His attempts at sleep had been futile, and now he was even more out of whack than before.

Head buzzing, he sat up in bed, feeling all his tired joints pop. He let out a yawn and looked over at the window. The sun was slowly dropping in the sky, so Daryl assumed he had about a good hour or so of fresh daylight before the sky would darken and the others would gather for supper.

Getting out of the house was a real struggle. Daryl had made sure the place was empty before opening the door to his room and stepping down the stairs. While the pain medicine had helped a bit, every step still made his back twinge in pain, and he found himself practically hobbling to the door.

He continued to walk, despite all the stares. He knew he should be going to help out with gate watch or something; he hadn’t done anything all day. But at this point he didn’t care about that either, he had another destination in mind.

Daryl had always been a sucker for nature, he was practically raised by it. He was never really able to take time to enjoy it, but today Daryl felt like he really just needed to be one with the earth.

“Daddy!” he heard the little boy yell from afar as he ran towards his caregiver, the yellow frisbee in his hands.

”I caught it, I caught it!”

In response, the caregiver laughed and wrapped the little in his arms.

”Good job baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Daddy.

The words felt so wrong, but also so right.
He shut his eyes and let the earth swallow him whole.

He wished he had someone he could call daddy.

————

“Daryl?”

He heard a quiet whisper, and turned in its direction, finding Carl crouched next to him, an energetic Judith in his arms, holding her hat.

"what’cha doing out here?” The young Grimes spoke, and Daryl willed himself to sit up. “I was restin’. What time is it?”

If Carl noticed the quick deflection, he didn’t say anything. “I’m not sure, but me and Jude' were just going over to the others for dinner.”

He looked back over at Judith, giving her a tired wink. She winked back in response and kicked her boots against Carl in a teasing way.
Smiling, he turned to walk forward…when he felt Carl’s hand grab his sweatshirt and pull down on it. When he turned to look at the kid with slight confusion, he saw Carl looking at him with a weird, unreadable expression. But it was quickly wiped away and Carl bounced Judith in his arms as he plastered another bright smile on his face.

He had honestly calmed down a lot from earlier. His head wasn’t spinning as much, and the fuzzy border surrounding his mind seemed less pressuring. In fact, he had almost forgotten about the stressful events from earlier, feeling content as he followed Carl into the main part of the city.

“It’s Maggie, she had the baby.”

Chapter 9: Suppressing the Feelings

Chapter Text

"Thank you for helpin' us, Daryl."

"...We all do what we can."

It had been a good three or four days since Maggie had had the baby, Daryl had lost count. It seemed like everything had blurred together since that moment with Aaron and Eric all those days ago, and life was on pause. Daryl hadn't spoken with the caregivers since that day, and he also hadn't spoken to Rick about the men who had harmed him. He'd had no time to think, no time to breathe. The earth was just spinning, and Daryl was being pulled along with it.

Since Maggie and Glenn had been distracted with their newborn son-they named him Hershel-all the work that would have normally been done by them, was piling up on the others. And of course, since Daryl was second-in-command and Rick was busy being a leader, a heck ton of the work fell on his shoulders. Daryl never complained though, he was second-in-command for a reason. Besides, a family should never miss out on the important bits of time when having a new born.

Although, the fact that the fuzzy feeling from all those days ago hadn't gone away yet, was a bit distracting to him. And waking up with a soaked bed every morning wasn't helping him stay strong either. The morning after he had spoken with Aaron and Eric, Daryl had woken up to, not a wet bed, but a wet pullup and pants instead. And as grossed out as it had made him feel...he liked having to deal with a wet pullup and clothing a lot more than wet sheets.

Overall though, besides his own troubles, Alexandria had reached a moment of deserved sweet peace. Everyone was happy with the news of the new baby, and it seemed like Hershel's birth had sparked a new era of life in the small city. Also, due to knew barriers having been put into place about 70-something miles from the town, walkers were now at an all time low.

That didn't mean it was completely safe outside of the walls though. The dead were still the dead, and the world was still flipped over and destroyed.

Which is why when Rick and Carl walked up to him this morning while he was scaling fish with Carol and Henry-the teenager was not exactly happy about having to do such an annoying chore- he knew why. They had made plans last night. to go on a supply run.

"Ya ready Daryl?"

Rick's voice made him jump slightly, as he had been so engrossed in his internal monologue that he hadn't heard the sheriff walk up.

He set down his knife, turning his body slightly to face the man, also noting Carl who stood a bit behind. "Whenever you are."

"Well, hello to you too," Carol spoke, butting into the small conversation with a sly smile. Rick returned one just like it. "Hey. That fish looks real good. Save some for us, will ya?"

Carol shrugged, turning back to said fish. "Depends, when are yall planning on getting back?"

"Hopin' by tonight, but maybe by morning. We're just scoutin' out this supply area some of the scouts discovered. Looks pretty intact, so maybe we'll find some good stuff."

"Supply hunting sounds a lot more fun than picking at fish all day," Henry murmured, making a big slice into his own. Smiling, Daryl patted his back and stood up with a poorly concealed groan. His back still hurt like sh*t.

"Next time," he muttered in response. "We've already got one teenager comin'." Rick and Carl snorted, generating the desired response from Daryl. Calling Carl and Henry teenagers wasn't an insult, heck they were both stronger than most 30 year-olds. Plus, Carl was technically an adult himself now. But it was always a fun jab, and at the very least it satisfied Henry, who turned back to his fish with a groan.

Rick waved goodbye and the three of them turned around, walking towards the gates of Alexandria. Daryl glanced up at the sun, judging that it was about nine in the morning from the angle the large star was at. He hoped they could get back before the end of the day. Because, as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn't exactly ready for any night-time walker fighting.

"I brought your cross bow to the truck," Carl spoke from next to his side, making his head snap down. He had been staring at the clouds...and when he looked over at the younger Grimes, the teen was staring at him funny. Not in a bad way, but just different, although Daryl couldn’t tell how.

“Alright,” Rick muttered. “The place is about a 30 minute ride over, but then we have to go off road for a couple a’ miles, so get comfy in the meantime.”

Daryl hummed his approval, and Rick started the engine with a twist of his key. The car was old and rickety , but it was about the best they could do as of now. Jesus had been talking about exploring a nearby car depot soon though. Maybe they could find some gas and a sweet new Lamborghini to drive around in instead.

Daryl let one arm hang out from the open truck window, resting his head on the seat behind him. He watched the guards pull open the gates and kill a straggler walker before Rick drove through slowly. As soon as the car was through, the gates slid closed with a small screech behind them. And just like that, they were out of the safety of the gates, back into the real world.

----

Daryl startled as the sputter of the engine came to a stop. He had been staring out of the window, but apparently he'd been off in his own world, as he hadn't noticed that Rick had pulled into a small gas station parking lot.

"Alright everyone, get whatcha need and lets get goin'," Rick stated. "If we walk fast, we should get there in about an hour."

Daryl took a deep breath and pulled himself out of the car, slinging his crossbow and empty bag over his back. Both of the Grimes followed, and Rick handed him a bottle of water, which he immediately took a swig from.

Rick started walking forward through the parking lot of the gas station, and to a small path of trampled grass at the back of it. Daryl followed behind, partially scouting and looking around for walkers, and partially just trying not to zone out again. Carl was behind him. At one point Daryl had tried switching their places so that he could be the one in the back and just lag behind, but Carl had slipped behind him again almost immediately. It was like he was purposefully making sure that Daryl wouldn't run off...

Other than a group of five or six walkers, everything else was oddly silent. Rick claimed it as a win, but to Daryl, the silence just made him even more uptight. There weren’t any walkers around, which was great. But there also wasn't any wildlife either. He'd counted about two butterflies and a snake in the whole time they had been walking through the brush. Eventually though, he had realized why. They walked passed a medium-sized man-made lake in the middle of the grass, and Rick explained that, when they (him and Michonne) had been searching around here a couple weeks ago, they had come across it. It was most likely a sewage pipe that had exploded and gone up through the wrecked water fountain in the center, polluting the whole thing. Now, any animal that came near and drank from it, or ate the plants around it, was dead meat.

After passing the lake, they walked on a little more. Daryl took a couple more sips of his water, wiping the sweat off of his brow every once in a while. They were at the time of the year now where days were scorching, but nights were almost freezing. It made it very difficult to 'dress for the occasion.'

"We're almost there, so I think we should talk about what were all gonna look for," Rick spoke up after a bit. The man had slowed down his footsteps and taken a spot to walk next to Daryl. Carl followed and took his other side. "The main things we're lookin' for are medicine, food, any sort of weapons or farmin' equipment, and anythin' we can find for the kids back home." Daryl nodded softly, hoping to be recruited for anything but the children's toys. By "kids," Rick was referring to both actual children, and littles. Meaning Daryl would have to surround himself with all of the nice things that he secretly wanted, and he couldn't do that right now.

"Daryl, you're good with medicine right? You know what stuff's the antibiotics an' all?" Daryl nodded again. He had a small understanding on what was good, and what would kill you instantly if you weren't careful. When treating his own wounds as a kid, he'd picked up on the best and worst types of medicine for certain symptoms. That was the extent to his medical knowledge though.

"Okay, you focus on medicine, I'll look for the farmin' and weapons. Carl, you look for any canned or dried food that you think would still be good. Whoever finishes faster can stop by the clothing area an' look for some stuff. Hopefully this isn't a bust and we can actually find some good things."

Daryl nodded his approval once more and adjusted the crossbow on his back. From far away, he could make out the rough shape of a large, grey structure. And as they got closer, a broken down and partially overgrown road came into view and they all got on it, killing the few walkers that were milling around. After that, it only took a couple more minutes of walking before the small group had finally made it to the front of the store.

It was...a lot bigger than he was expecting. The exterior was simple: just a long, rectangular building painted dark grey, with rows of large square windows spaced about six feet apart from each other. There were posters and painted words on the walls as well, but most of them had faded away or ripped off. The large, illuminated letters that spelled out the words "Mega Market" were all either broken on the floor or about to fall from the top of the store.

What was most surprising though, was the fact that none of the glass had been broken-except for one window-and the front doors seemed to be secured tightly shut. There wasn't much trash anywhere, and there was barely any blood splattered around too-minus the walkers they had killed. For the most part, the store looked almost...untouched...?

"This store here was mainly for the truckers, and the people that lived nearby that lake," Rick explained, most likely seeing Daryl's dumbfounded look. "No one really knew about it before the apocalypse, an' even now, very few people would think ta walk out miles into a grassy field to find a store. We just found it by dumb luck."

Walking up to the main door, Daryl softly tapped on it. He didn't hear any sounds coming from inside. "It doesn't look like many walkers an' people have been in here yet," he spoke up.

"That's what I was thinkin'," Rick said as he walked forward. "The door looks like it hasn't even been opened, and the whole building is in pretty good shape."

"But there's a broken panel of glass over there," Carl pointed out. "Something could've gotten in through there."

"I'll chuck something in through the glass and see if it stirs up any walkers," Daryl suggested, already looking around for something he could throw that would make a good noise when it hit the floor. "If nothin' shows up, then we can try an' open the doors. The lock looks simple enough, and there shouldn't be any alarm since there's already a window broken anyway."

Rick grunted his approval, and Daryl picked up an empty soda can and a rock that he found laying around, before walking over to the broken window. He took a deep breath, preparing to draw out his knife in the case of a walker frenzy. Then, he grabbed the rock and can in one hand, and chucked them inside the store as hard as he could. The items hit the floor with a loud bang, and grabbed the attention of two walkers out in the fields nearby. While Carl and Rick took care of them, Daryl strained his ears to listen for any faint growl or shifting noises coming from the building. Surprisingly, after a full minute, he still heard nothing. It looked almost as though the apocalypse hadn't touched the store yet, which was insane considering how long it had been since the real world had been wiped out.

"Looks good," Daryl muttered, jogging over to Rick who was digging through his pouch.

"I think I might have a...perfect."

Rick held up a small lock pick. From the looks of it, it was the exact type they needed too; it would make busting in a lot easier. With a final confirmation from Daryl that the place was safe, Rick knelt down and began to work on opening the lock, while Daryl and Carl stood guard. it took a while, mainly because of how rusty the mechanics in the lock were, but at last a loud click sound was made, and the double doors swung open with a loud creaking noise. Rick peered inside a bit and banged his gun on the wall. When still no walkers came out, he made a motion with his hand, signaling for Daryl and Carl to follow. Carl ran into the building, and Daryl took care of the last lonely walker before following the men inside the building and shutting the doors.

Rick took out a crow bar from his bag and used it to secure the handle bars just in case, and just like that, they were in the store.

The place was dark, but also not that dark due to all the windows everywhere. When Daryl looked around he saw...isles full with stuff. They were standing in the front of a fully stocked store, something he hadn't seen in years.

"Wow," Carl muttered. "We're definitely comin' back with the pick-up truck later". Rick hummed in agreement and told the two to pull out their bags. "For now, see what ya can stuff in the bags. If you find other bags or carts in here and have time, fill em' with stuff too. We'll get as much as we can today, and come back for the rest soon. We'll meet back up here in an hour or so."

Daryl hummed his approval, and the three men all split up, each going different ways. Daryl followed the signs and went in the location of the pharmacy. It was its own little area at the back of the store, and he couldn't help but grin when he saw it. All the medicine you could ever think of was just laying behind the counter, ready for him to grab.

He walked over and jumped the counter, instantly going for the prescription medication, as those were usually labeled with good directions so that the public could use them. He looked through a couple of the names before pulling out a heavy anti-inflammatory that had supposed to have been given to a lady named Amy. From his experience, he could tell that the drug in the bottle would be great for treating wounds like gunshots or preventing infections from amputations. He then dug through and found tranexamic acid in the form of some pills. It was another great medication for stopping bleeding, and he filed it away in the bag for later. He got a lot of containers of Metoclopramide that would help with nausea, and lidocaine for numbing areas of the skin.

After filling his bag with a great deal of medicine, Daryl turned over to the shelf with the more standard medicine. He got a couple bottles of Advil and Tylenol, as well as some cough syrup and drops. He got cold medicine for adults and kids, and grabbed a couple bottles of vitamins and birth control medication for anyone who wanted it.

He was pretty absorbed in collecting the medications, and honestly hadn't thought of much else. However, when he opened another cabinet in the back of the pharmacy to look for more medicine, he came across a stack of pale yellow bottles.

His breath stilled.

He knew what those were, what this whole shelf was filled of. They were suppressants. Specifically, a container full of pills that were used to help a little remain out of headspace for a small period of time.

Daryl dropped his bag, suddenly not seeing anything around him.

Suppressants weren't meant to be something bad. They were often prescribed by a doctor, so that they were taken accordingly and not abused. Often, suppressants were used by littles who were in the business industry, or who had an upcoming event which they didn't want to risk being little for. For example, an important meeting. It's not that falling into little space during a meeting would result in being punished, it's just that many people preferred to not have the nagging feeling of warmth surrounding them while they tried to make tough decisions. One pill had enough medication to suppress a little's headspace for about five days to a week, depending on the person. Afterwards though, the little would usually slip into full headspace for a couple days, as a way to make up for time lost.

Either way, the pill was meant to be taken no more than once every month, for a little using them to prevent his or her headspace would be detrimental to them. The longer a little went without headspace, the worse it would be in the end for them.

That's where Daryl's problems had began. From the moment his family discovered his classification, he was popping suppressants on the daily. The overuse of the pills always made him feel nauseous, and made his head spin like crazy, but he had learnt to live with the pain. It was worth small discomfort to push back the wave of pressure that was building up in the back of his mind.

However, when the apocalypse started and most stores were raided of all medications, including suppressants, Daryl found himself off of the pills for the first time in his life since his teenage years. The shift was...tough. Now that there was nothing pushing back his headspace, his mind longed to drop him into it, trying to replenish the years of debt his body was owed. However, Merle made sure he didn't. Whether it was burning him with a lighter whenever he tried to suck his thumb, or knocking him out whenever he would start to cry, the man admittedly did a good job of keeping his regression at bay. And by the time they had stumbled upon Shane and the others, Daryl himself had learnt smart ways to push away his headspace.

However, the pills made it a lot easier, and as Daryl grabbed one of the bottles off of the shelf and held it in his hands, he started to shake.

He wanted a pill...it would help him.

But would it really?

Ripping off the plastic covering on the bottle, Daryl unscrewed the lid and let one of the small, pink pills rest in the palm of his hand. It would be so easy. One quick gulp, and he would be able to rid himself of this awful fuzzy feeling covering him, at least for a little while.

But then he thought of Aaron and Eric. Both of the men had seemed so happy when they were caring for Daryl, and they had even told him that they wanted to be his caregivers. Plus, the brief time he had spent in his headspace was embarrassing, but had also felt like heaven. And even though he'd spent his entire life pushing away his regression...he wasn't sure he wanted to do it anymore...he didn't have Merle there to stop him anymore after all....

Sighing, Daryl dropped the pill back into the container, screwing the lid shut again. He contemplated shoving the bottle in the bag. Maybe he could use it later, or if anyone saw it, he could pass it off as getting it for one of the other littles just in case. Surely no one would think-

"Daryl?"

Hearing the sound of his name being called out by the younger Grimes, Daryl flinched and almost dropped the bottle of suppressants from his hand. Coming to his bearings, Daryl quickly shoved the bottle back into the cabinet before slamming it shut and turning to face down the walkway where he had heard his name being called. Not even a moment later, the eighteen year old Grimes walked around the corner.

"Hey Daryl," Carl said, jogging up to him and standing by his side. Daryl cleared his throat and opted for his best "Watcha' need?" hoping his voice wasn't as shaky as it sounded.

"Well, I was lookin' through all the different types of food," Carl began. "and there was a section containing all these vitamins and mixes and all. I don't know too much about that stuff, and I wasn't sure if they could be toxic past their expiration date. Dad was busy in his section, so I was wonderin' if we could switch, and you could go look at the powders while I finish up here? I've already taken the good stuff from the rest of the isle, so it shouldn't take long."

It was obvious, even to Daryl, that Carl seemed to be straining some sort of lie, although Daryl couldn't tell why. He listened as the teenager explained his compromise, and wondered if he should accept. Honestly, he knew jack sh*t about any of those vitamin powders and protein bars that used to be all the rage back then; everything he used to eat was usually something he caught himself or stole from a gas station. Health drinks and goods were a rare delicacy to his family.

However...he thought back to the entire cabinet of suppressants. He felt like if he stayed here any longer, he would end up stuffing a whole bottle of them down his throat and getting intoxicated. Plus...there were people who actually wanted to be his caregivers waiting for him at home. And whether he would actually take them up on the offer or not, he didn't know yet. But he did know that he would hate to see the look on their faces if they ever found out that Daryl had tried to use drugs to suppress his biological needs.

"...Alright," Daryl agreed at last, leaving the bag of medication on the floor and standing on his feet. He watched as Carl's face practically beamed, and he wondered again why exactly the kid had wanted to switch so bad. "I've already done all the hospital medication stuff," Daryl explained. "Just get some cough drops, bandages, them stuff for the ladies, and anythin' else ya can find."

Carl nodded. "Of course. The food isle is just a couple down that way," he spoke, pointing down the way which he had came." My bag is on the floor in there. I'll see you in a bit."

Daryl nodded and lifted up his crossbow, offering a small wave before slowly making his way down the rows of the supermarket, not exactly sure what he was doing anymore.

----

Before he knew it, the rest of the time had passed, and Daryl was making his way back to the entrance, a big bag of food strapped to his back along with the crossbow. He wasn't the first one there, Rick had already dropped his bag on the floor and was crouched next to it, twiddling his pistol gun in his hands. When he heard the slow footsteps approaching him, he looked up with a smile. "At least someone's on time," he joked.

Daryl snorted and sat himself down next to the man, crossing his legs. "What did ya find?" he asked, although he wasn't all that interested. Rick's voice was just very soothing to hear, and the caregiver's energy made him feel warm. Rick slid his gun into his holder and reached for his bag, placing it in his lap. "I found some small daggers and an axe. I got some arrows too, and some gardening shovels. There was some other stuff, but that's all I could fit in the bag."

Daryl nodded. "That's some pretty good stuff."

"Mhm," Rick agreed. "Hopefully we can get all this back before nightfall. It looks like we still have a good couple a' hours left."

As if on cue, Carl appeared out of one of the store's isles, lugging his big bag with him. The teenager looked to be off in his own world, slowly walking over until he was next to him and Rick.

"Sorry I'm late, "Carl spoke with a cheesy expression. "I got kina distracted with how much stuff there was."

Rick nodded and stretched out his arms with a small yawn before pressing his body up to a standing position. Daryl copied, standing up and pulling out a dagger. "We ready?" he asked the two, who both nodded. "I'll go out first", Rick spoke, already making his way over to the doors. He glanced through the windows as he walked, ensuring that the exit was clear, before reaching for the crowbar that held the door shut. Once it was off, he kicked the door open and walked out, a knife in his hand.

Daryl followed out next, with Carl close by his side. There was a walker a couple feet away, but Rick stabbed it through its skull and it fell to the floor.

"Alright everyone, let's get goin'. If we keep up a steady pace, we'll make it to the car an' be on our way home before the sun starts settin'".

Rick began the walk down the path they had came, and Daryl followed, his eyes wondering slowly over the grassy fields around them.

----

The walk over to the truck was largely uneventful, and the ride home was even more so. Daryl hadn't paid much attention to the small conversations Rick and Carl initiated, instead focusing on what he would do once they got back. Aaron and Eric had made it clear that they were open to Daryl taking time to think over if he wanted to try being their little or not, but he was also aware that that gracious time was running out. Despite how much the couple wanted Daryl as their own, he knew that they would much rather he drop into his headspace as soon as possible, whether it be with them or not.

His brain was constantly switching sides between running over to the men's house and asking to be part of their family, and ignoring the fact that the events that had happened recently had ever occurred. But, as he watched the scenery through the window pass by quickly, and listened to the controlled humming of the car's engine, he was starting to think he preferred the former option.

He flinched slightly as he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Carl handing him something from the back seat, a small smile on his face. "Here", the caregiver spoke, handing him what appeared to be a piece of gum. "Chew on this."

Raising a brow, Daryl accepted the piece of foil-covered gum. He was a bit confused as to why the teenager had given it to him, but when he felt another small press on his shoulder and opened his mouth to say something...he tasted blood. His eyes widened slightly. He had been biting his lip, chewinghis lip. And he hadn't noticed...but Carl had?

Closing his mouth, he swallowed and unwrapped the gum, stuffing it into his mouth and biting down.

Spearmint.

Turning his head back to look out the window, Daryl exhaled softly, trying to shut off his mind and ignore the world and his thoughts, at least for a little while.

---------

They made it back to Alexandria a bit after the sky had gone black. Daryl was startled awake from his partial sleep at the sound of the large gates being opened. Rick drove the car through the doors of the sanctuary, stopping it next to one of the apple trees by the door. When the car was off, The three men stepped out, taking their bags with them.

Most of the others were inside, but Jesus and Abraham came forwards, both seemingly curious with all the stuff they had brought. "Looks like you guys found good game," the ginger-haired man noted as Rick handed him his bag. "Oh we did," the sheriff agreed. And there's a lot more where that came from."

"Glad you guys came back on time," Jesus spoke up, reaching for Carl's bag. "You three can go wash up and all, we'll take all this stuff to the store room and sort it out. But Daryl, would you mind lugging over your bag real quick too?" The hunter nodded his approval, but Carl pulled his bag away before Jesus could take it. "You take Daryl's" he said instead. "His has lots a' food to be put away. I'll come with you guys to help sort some things out." Jesus shrugged in response, and reached over for Daryl's bag instead, to which he gave him gratefully. As much as he wouldn't mind helping out with the sorting, he had somewhere he wanted to go.

"Well, it's late, so we'll let you all get to it," Rick finalized before turning to Carl. "I want you back home in thirty." Carl hitched up his bag to his back. "Alright dad." And just like that, the trio walked away, leaving Rick and Daryl to walk around the perimeter of the camp.

Daryl took a deep breath in, looking up at the early night sky. It had been a while since him and Rick had been alone together, but it wasn't awkward in the slightest.

"Thanks for comin' Daryl," Rick spoke up after a bit of silence. Daryl simply shrugged. "It's my job ta' help."

Rick smiled and reached up to pat Daryl's back, causing the archer to chew faster on the gum still in his mouth as his cheeks grew warm at the caregiver hormones surrounding him.

"Still," the man continued. "I've noticed these past few weeks have seemed a bit hard on you. And...Carl told me you overheard that conversation I had with the others back when your arm was hurtin'.
I never got ta' say sorry for that. We weren't upset at you, just upset at ourselves for doin' something so foolish an' loosin' all that food."

The little hummed and nodded, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing, even though, deep down, those words meant a lot to him. "It's fine," he said at last. "I knew ya didn't mean it."

Rick sighed in relief and scratched his arm. "Thanks man, that's been eating me up for a while. I'm glad I can just talk to you...and I promise you can tell me anythin' too."

Despite his earlier timid mood, Daryl couldn't help but give Rick a small smile. He wondered if he should just tell Rick his classification right now, and get it out of the way. In the past, he used to dream about having the man next to him as his caregiver, even though he hated to admit it. Now though, he had two others that had opened their hearts to him, and suddenly he didn't feel all that pressured to tell the sheriff his classification. Because now, even if he had still wanted Rick as his caregiver and the man said no, he would still have others to go to. Not that he thought of Rick in that way anymore. No, now the man walking next to him really was just the close brother he never had.

"Oh," Daryl spoke up, cutting off his thoughts and slowing their walking pace. "I've been meanin' to tell you," he began, trying to find out the best way to word the scenario without giving too much about himself away.

"What is it?" Rick prodded after a moment of Daryl going silent. He had seemed to catch onto the shorter's sudden unease.

"A little bit ago," Daryl began.

"There were these guys I was hel-"

"Rick, could you come here a minute! One of the ground pipes in the main house is leaking badly!"

Daryl couldn't tell who had yelled out to them through the darkness, but Rick cleared his throat and turned to Daryl with a sorry expression.

"It's alright man," Daryl assured.

"I promise we'll talk later, get some rest brother." Rick offered one more smile before jogging away towards the center of the town, leaving Daryl to walk alone.

He turned to look up at the sky again as he walked, wondering how late it was, and if most people were still awake. His boots brushed lazily against the dirt paths as he walked, trying to form what he was going to do in his head.

He was making his way over to Eric and Aaron's house. He had been battling the idea for the whole day, but finally, his mind was made up. He would go up to them and ask to try being part of their family. And not in the way he already was. Something new.

His stomach was filled with butterflies, and the world felt hazy as he walked closer and closer. He was scared, scared of what they would say. He wondered if they were even awake; he hoped they were, because he didn't think he would be able to gather the courage to do this again if no one answered the door.

But even though he was worried, and even though he hated the side of himself that would have to be brought out if he did this, he knew it was the right decision. And part of him was even a bit excited as to what it would feel like to finally have people doting over him, and him alone.

All these fantasies of love and comfort played out in his head as Daryl walked passed the quiet library and towards the Grime's house, where the prison rested under.

He wasn't paying attention, and he had let his guard down for the first time in ages.

How could he have been so dumb?

Because, out of nowhere, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and something hit the back of his head.

The world went dark.

---------------

Flashback to in the supermarket

Carl's perspective

Carl watched as Daryl slowly stood himself up and adjusted the bow draped on his back. He kept an eye on the man, watching as he stumbled out of the pharmacy, and down the long isle. As soon as the archer was out of view, the young caregiver quickly turned his attention to the cabinet that Daryl had been looking at when he had first walked over, before he had hidden himself so Daryl couldn't see he was watching. With a shaky hand, he opened the cabinet, and watched as a pale yellow pill bottle fell down into his lap.

Picking it up, he turned it around in his hands and read the label.

I knew it.

Chapter 10: It Was So Obvious

Chapter Text

A month or so ago was when Carl had first started questioning things. But it wasn't until a couple days ago that he realized why Daryl might have been acting so weirdly.

It was evening time, and Carl was heading over to the main table area in the center of the town for dinner. He and Judith had been out by the walls for the past hour or so, scraping their names into the metal with a small pocket knife. It wasn't exactly the most grownup thing for a new adult to be doing, but then again, stabbing into skulls and shooting dead humans wasn't exactly something a teenager should be doing, so it evened out.

As the sun started to set in the sky above, and the sound of the crickets began to intensify, Carl dropped his knife with a sigh and turned to look at Judith. "You hungry? I know I am,” he spoke. Judith sheathed her own small knife—yes, it was normal for a six year old to have a knife—and looked back at her older brother with a wide smile.

"You're always hungry," she giggled, before jumping at Carl, hitting his stomach and causing him to let out a small grunt as he wrapped his arms around her. He hoisted her into his arms and adjusted her hat, which had almost fallen off of her head.

"I am always hungry," he agreed. "But I heard that Carol was making roasted potatoes and asparagus. It's my favorite meal." Judith rolled her eyes as Carl began to walk away from the wall, back over to the dirt path that stretched around the exterior of Alexandria.

"Potatoes are alright, but the asparagus always gets stuck in my teeth," she complained before changing the topic. "Do you think uncle Daryl will be there? He wasn't at the last big dinner."

Judith was right. The community often gathered together, usually once or twice a week, for large dinners together. They did the same with breakfast as well. And, while it was normal for Daryl to skip a gathering every once in a while, just because the hunter was constantly running around outside of the walls or just wanting to get away from people...Daryl hadn't been at the past three. Carl knew that Daryl had taken a liking to eating at Aaron and Eric's house recently, but it was hard to see the man outside of the gatherings, and now that he wasn't showing up, he could tell that Judith was missing him.

Of course, that didn't mean that Daryl never hung out with Judith. In fact, he would argue that Daryl was Judith's best playmate, since they both had a strong urge for adventure. None of the other kids or little’s could compare to her uncle Daryl.

Carl bounced Judith in his arms as they walked farther, towards one of the empty fields that the children and littles often played in.

"I'm not sure if he's comin' tonight Jude," he began as he looked around at the couple of fireflies beginning to light up the grass. His walked slowed to a stop however, when he noticed a familiar figure sprawled out comfortably in the grass a bit away from them and the rest of the town.

"But why don't we go ask and see?"

Judith lifted her head from Carl's shoulder, perking up and looking around. "Where is-oh he's right there!" Carl chuckled at the pure bliss that seemed to cover Judith's face. If he didn't know better, he would have believed that Judith had just seen a unicorn with how happy she seemed. It just proved exactly how much she loved the hunter.

Considering the fact that Daryl hadn't already sat up after hearing Judith's yell, he assumed that the man was either asleep or really zoned out. As he walked towards the hunter with Judith in his arms, he couldn't help but feel a pang of worry in his chest.

Daryl loved to be by himself; he used to constantly run off for days, even weeks, and come back as though nothing had happened. Although, in the past couple of months, Daryl had gotten a lot more used to having people constantly around him. He didn't run off alone as much anymore, and he even chose to stick by Rick and the others now, instead of being by himself.

So what bothered Carl, was the fact that Daryl had been missing from the past three-or-so big gatherings...and here he was, about to sleep off another one alone in a grassy field.

He swallowed his thoughts though as to not bother Judith, and carefully walked closer and closer to the man. His footsteps were loud, so he knew that Daryl must've been asleep, otherwise the hunter’s keen ears would've heard him from yards away. When he finally stood right by the man, he was able to look at the feature's of his face. Daryl always had some sort of frown etched into his brows, even when smiling. His gaze always looked distant, and his eyes always tired, even when Carl knew he was at ease.

But looking at Daryl now made something bubble up in his chest, and he could feel his caregiver hormones being released, which only happened when there was a little nearby. It was weird, but at first Carl didn't realize why. He thought his senses were just going out of whack because of how calm Daryl looked. His normally uptight posture was now slack and loose, and now that his face wasn't scrunched up or hidden by locks of his hair, Carl could see how soft and clear it looked, despite his age. Carl smiled.

That was the first time he had seriously questioned himself about Daryl and his classification. Because, as he had been looking over at the sleeping man, a sudden urge to run his hand through his brown locks had him freeze in his place.

Daryl was like an uncle to him, so of course Carl had always looked up to the man and loved him. But...he had never thought about doing something so childish to anyone but Judith and the other kids before. So why, right now, was he suddenly fighting the urge to give a man, who might possibly be stronger than his father...a pat on the head?

Judith swung her legs and her boot jammed itself in his special area, making him stifle a yelp. He realized that he had just been standing there in silence for over a minute. Adjusting his sister in his arms, Carl cleared his throat.

"Daryl?" he spoke softly, looking for any sign that said man had heard him.

"Daryl?" he spoke up louder after his first attempt was futile. This time Daryl's eyes shot open and instantly made contact with Carl's.

For a second, Daryl's gaze held something that the younger Grimes hadn't seen before. It wasn't the hard, pained expression the man usually had. Instead, his eyes almost seemed...soft?

Before Carl could accurately examine it though, it was gone, and replaced with Daryl's usual visage.

"What’cha doing out here?” the younger Grimes spoke up after a moment of silence, and he watched as Daryl pressed his body up to a sitting position. He also noticed the slight wince the man gave as he did so, and that original feeling of worry grew a bit.

“I was restin’. What time is it?”

The deflection was obvious, and Carl could tell that the man knew it as well. But he didn't say anything and instead responded to the question. “I’m not sure, but me and Jude were just going over to the others for dinner," he spoke, and watched as Daryl's eyes seemed to drift off again. He gave a small wave to Judith, to which she gladly returned before whispering to Carl about how funny Daryl's hair looked at the moment. It was all disheveled from him laying on the ground for who knows how long, and apparently it looked absolutely hilarious to the youngest Grimes.

Carl smiled at his sister's words, although his eyes never left Daryl, who hadn't seemed to make any move to stand up yet.

“Do you wanna come with?” he spoke up again, and watched as Daryl's eyes snapped back to him. He was aware of the tone he had spoken the words in; a tone that made it clear that he wasn't just suggesting the hunter tag along. Daryl didn't comment on it if he noticed though, instead nodding and pushing his tired body to a standing position.

He walked over to the right side of Carl and started to mess around with Judith, making the young girl giggle. The teenager smiled and moved to start walking, when something caught his attention and made his eyes widen the slightest bit.

Daryl's sweatshirt had ridden up, revealing something light blue sticking out from the top of his pants. From a faraway glance, anyone would've assumed it was the man's boxers. However, the all too recognizable ruffle pattern is what made Carl realize it wasn't just a pair of briefs.

It was a pullup.

Daryl was wearing a pullup.

Before his mind had processed what he had seen, he was already reaching towards the man's sweatshirt, tugging the back of it to cover the his lower waist. He saw Daryl and Judith eye him weirdly in response, and all he could manage out was an, "I was just fixing your sweater. Let’s go have some food now.”

He started walking quickly after, barely looking back as his mind reeled. Daryl matched his strides, taking back his sport next to him, although Carl couldn't bare to glance at the his face and see what he was thinking.

His mind was erupting with hundreds of different thoughts and theories, and he found himself barely able to keep a small conversation as the trio walked, Judith idly playing with Daryl's hair as they did so.

Maybe it wasn't a pullup...it could've just been some weird boxers...

But he knew deep down that he had seen what he had saw. Daryl Dixon, the strongest, toughest man in the world, had been seen sporting a pair of baby blue pullups.

It could be possible that Daryl just had an incontinence problem that him and the others had never known about, the teen theorized. But, he was almost certain that the hunter would have told at least his dad about that, despite all the secrets he kept away. Plus, from all their time together, Carl had never seen any extra padding in the trash that hadn't belonged to the other littles he'd grown accustomed to being near.

And, if you connected that weird feeling he had felt earlier to what he had just seen...

But there's no way none of us would have known, littles have to drop at some point.

But then again, Daryl was already different from most. It didn't take a psychologist to figure out that the man hadn't had the best upbringing. He was good at hiding secrets...maybe a bit too good...

Carl snapped out of his head when he noticed two figures running towards them in the dark. The small chatter between the three stilled-Carl honestly didn't even know that they had been talking about-and their walked slowed as the figures came closer. When they were only a few feet away, he could finally make out the faces of Rosita and Jesus running towards them.

The duo stopped in front of them, and Carl took a moment to examine the perplexed visages they carried.

"What it it?" he spoke with some caution, not being able to tell if the looks on their faces meant something good or bad. He took a small step forward, part of his body shielding Daryl behind him. He didn't know why he had done it though.

“It’s Maggie," Rosita spoke up. "She had the baby.”

-----------

Carl sat laid back in the backseat of his dad's old, red truck. There was a small conversation going on between the two men who sat in front of him, but Carl tuned it all out. He was only focused on one thing, and that was the hunter whom he sat behind.

The other day he'd overheard his dad talking to some of the other adults about going on a supply run with Daryl to go explore a market that him and mom had stumbled upon a little while back.

Of course, after hearing this, Carl had immediately asked his dad if he could tag along. He had said that he wanted to join just to get out of the walls for a while, which was partly true. But mainly he wanted to come along to observe Daryl.

Ever since Maggie had had her baby, Daryl had been even harder to find than before. He had taken on an even bigger load of tasks around Alexandria than normal, and that meant the man was almost everywhere. He didn't come to group dinners, and, from what he heard, he hadn't been at Aaron and Erics' house for a while either. He was constantly running around both in and out of the walls, and Carl had barely had time to see the man, much less observe him to find out if his theories had been correct. So of course he was going to jump on the opportunity of hanging around the hunter for a whole day. So far, he hadn't managed to find anything out from the car ride though. Daryl had remained fairly quiet the whole time, and Carl couldn't see his facial expressions from the back seat.

When they had parked the car and started on their hike, Carl immediately took a spot behind Daryl, and staid behind him for the entirety of the walk. Part of it was to see if he could catch a glimpse of any extra padding under the man's clothes-he didn't see any. And part of it was because of his weird urge to defend the man...or possibly little. He knew Daryl didn't need it, he was Daryl Dixon after all. But it calmed him much more knowing that he was there to cover the hunter's 6.

A little while later they had reached the store, and had all split up into their designated sections. Carl had gotten the food isle, which was pretty simple for him. However, he admittedly rushed through his task of picking through the expired items, because what he really wanted to do was go watch what Daryl was doing. He wouldn't call it stalking exactly...but he was determined to keep the man in sight until he figured out exactly what was going on.

It had taken him about half of the time they had planned to scavenge to clear out the isle and stuff his bag with all the good canned and dried items he could find. The second his bag had been almost topped off, Carl placed it down, his curiosity getting the better of him as he left the isle and followed the signs towards the medical section where Daryl was supposed to be.

As he walked down the isles he saw his dad picking through a container of what appeared to be screws. But he didn't let the man see him because he knew he would be grilled for not being in his section of the store. So instead he kept on walking, and after a couple more isles, he entered the one where Daryl was at.

However, he stopped in his tracks and immediately backed out of the hunter's view when he noticed something odd.

Daryl had picked up a bottle of medicine from one of the cabinets, which wasn't the part that had confused Carl.

No, what had confused Carl was the look on Daryl's face as he had looked over the medicine, and the fact that he had even popped one of the pills into the palm of his hand, looking suspiciously close to downing it dry.

He wasn't sure why, but some part of him decided to not let the man know of his presence until he saw more of the scene.

The bottle Daryl was holding was pale yellow, which wasn't like what any pain relivers or cold medicine he knew looked like. So what exactly was it? And why did Daryl look like he was witnessing a murder?

He watched a little longer as the man fiddles with the small pill in his hand, debating on weather he should eat it or not. Although he had been close to taking it, in the end Daryl dropped the pill back into the bottle and twisted it shut, his tense visage showing how difficult it must have been for him to do so.

It was then when he decided to make his entrance.

"Daryl?" he called out, waiting a moment before walking into the isle and acting casual as he slowly jogged over to stand next to the man. "Hey Daryl."

The man in question seemed to look up at Carl with brief panic for a moment before clearing his throat and averting his gaze towards his bag which rested besides him. "Watcha' need?" he asked, and Carl did in fact notice how the man both sounded and looked like an injured puppy. However, as he registered Daryl's question, his small smile briefly faltered.

He had no good reason for coming over here to bother Daryl; he hardly doubted the man would like it if he said he was just "observing him."

Luckily, his voice spoke before his brain could even think, and he managed to say something that wasn't complete bull sh*t.

"Well, I was lookin' through all the different types of food," he began. "and there was a section containing all these vitamins and mixes and all. I don't know too much about that stuff, and I wasn't sure if they could be toxic past their expiration date. Dad was busy in his section, so I was wonderin' if we could switch, and you could go look at the powders while I finish up here? I've already taken the good stuff from the rest of the isle, so it shouldn't take long."

It wasn't his best lie, but then again, he wasn't good at lying. Luckily though, Daryl seemed to believe it, or at least take the hint, because after a moment of silent thought the man quietly agreed and stood up, giving him a quick briefing on what he had already collected and what the young Grimes should look for. Carl nodded along, before telling him where the food isle and his stuff were. And just like that, the Dixon was off, and Carl was left alone in the isle, glad that his little plan had worked.

Filled with curiosity, Carl knelt down in front of the white cabinet that Daryl had been digging into earlier. He grabbed the handle and pulled outward, watching as the same yellow pill bottle that Daryl had been holding a moment ago fell into his lap. In fact, the whole cabinet was filled with this medicine. Picking the small bottle up, he twisted it around in his hands and read the label. His eyes instantly widened.

I knew it.

Daryl Dixon was a little; there was no other explanation for all that he had seen. Not when he had seen the pullup earlier, and felt the way he had towards the man.

The man was a little, and he was hiding it from the others. And he obviously wasn't caring well for himself, considering he had just tried to down a suppressant.

"sh*t".

---------

Carl had been practically burning eyes through the back of Daryl's head the entire walk back to the car, and during the car ride as well.

He couldn't believe it. How was someone like Daryl a little? And, more importantly, how had the man not crashed already? As he watched the man fidget and pick at his nails, he realized that a lot of Daryl's small "habits" could easily be tied to lack of headspace. And from the pullup that he had seen that day, he could conclude that Daryl was at least a toddler in his headspace. That was concerning; there were barely any littles that young left because they had all been killed. Younger littles needed much more attention and time in their headspace than older headspace ranges. Even in the old world, he remembered that young littles could only work a certain amount of hours per week, and that they were very protected. So the fact that Daryl was one of them, and no one even knew it, was both madly impressive, and much more concerning.

But, then again, as Carl looked at Daryl's resting form in the reflection of the car mirror, he started to notice physical things as well that hinted at his little status. Things like how his skin appeared baby soft, although it was always covered with grime and impossible to see up close. Or the fact that, other than his head and the small beard fuzz that he sometimes grew, the man's arms, and most likely legs, looked clean shaven, just like a littles. There was also the way Daryl's eyes seemed to grow soft and wide whenever he felt calm and secure, which was not a trait most neutrals possessed.

In fact, the more Carl looked at Daryl, the more he couldn't believe how blind he and the others were for never seeing it. In fact just right now his dad was talking about the weather and barrier improvements, while there was a hurting little sitting next to him, looking like he was going to fall asleep at any second. It had all been so obvious. Earlier he had offered the man gum because he had been biting at his nails...a habit that all too closely resembled thumb sucking.

Now that Carl knew, he really wanted to let his dad know, or someone, so that they could help the hunter out.

But he wouldn't tell anyone, at least not yet. Because there had to be a good reason for why he had hidden something so important from everyone, and he was going to find out why.

He shuffled in his seat, his left leg brushing over the bag of supplies he had brought. The other two were in the back, but Carl wanted to keep this one with him so that no one would grab it when they unloaded earlier. That was because, stuffed next to a bag of cough soothers, Carl had brought along a small pack of stacking foam blocks

——————

“Carl?” the sheriff spoke.

“What is it dad?”

His dad cleared his throat.

"It’s Daryl. I went to go speak with him…but I can’t find him anywhere.”

Chapter 11: All I Needed was you

Chapter Text

"I can't keep defending you from him all the time," a young Merle muttered as he idly kicked a stray can down the empty road next to their small house. A trembling Daryl sat on the edge of the curb a little bit behind his brother, his knees pulled into his chest as he fought the tears threatening to pour from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say, although he knew the words were useless after what had happened.

"Saying sorry doesn't excuse what'cha are."

Daryl and Merle had been kicked out of the house for a night, maybe two; being kicked out had actually been a lot better than what could've happened though.

Daryl had almost gotten his arm snapped in half. If Merle hadn't jumped in and redirected their father's anger at the last second, who knows what could have happened.

Daryl had giggled. That was the reason his dad had gotten so upset. He hadn't mean to, really, it had just slipped out randomly when he had been sat down against the once of the walls of the main room, watching a roly-poly skitter across the old floors. When it ran into one of the small sugar ants that had been crawling by, it curled into a tight ball and froze still, making Daryl let out a small laugh at its stupidity. His dad, who had been sprawled out on the couch nearby, drunk as a skunk, had heard it.

He'd never seen the man move so fast in his life.

Daryl had managed to push away practically all signs of being a little-except bed wetting-since he had been classified almost six months ago, and since then he'd managed to fly under his dad's radar, not getting beaten or shamed as much for what he was. Afterall, his dad and mother were always so drunk he was sure they completely forgot his classification at times, unless he did something obvious to call their attention to it.

But all of a sudden, gone was the beer in his dad's hands, and the dozed off look as he started at the TV. In a split second he had been pinned to the floor, his right arm twisted behind painfully his back, all for displaying even the smallest little characteristic.

If it hadn't been for Merle, who had come running into the room at the sound of his little brother's screams, his arm would have been gone for sure. But instead of letting his dad finish the job, Merle had thrown an empty beer can at his back, making the man look up with rage, Daryl's arm still hyperextended in his grasp.

"You're missin' your football game," is all Merle had said. And for some reason, those words seemed to be enough for the older Dixon, as he gave Daryl's arm one more squeeze before letting it drop limply to the floor, bruises already forming from the tight grip. It was like Merle's words had hypnotized him.

The man stood up and shuffled back to the couch, his greasy forehead and hair adding to the dazed look in his eyes. Daryl tried desperatelyto muffle small whines as he did so.

"Ya two gedout," said the man with a gruffy, sluggish voice as he sat back down with a creak and reached back over to his half empty beer. He took a sit and turned back to the TV, acting as though the whole event had never even happened. Merle didn't need to be told twice, already grabbing Daryl by the collar of his shirt and tugging him out of the house before the younger could let free a cry of pain. This wasn't their first rodeo; they'd been kicked out plenty of times.

That's where they were, Merle pacing angrily up and down the road while Daryl shook like a leaf, trying to be as silent as possible to not make his brother even more pissed than he already was.

"Guess we're stayin' under the bridge tonight again'," Merle muttered in a voice laced with poison before walking over to Daryl and standing in front of him, displaying a scrutinizing visage that made Daryl's body ache.

"M' sorry," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper but noticeably shaky.

Merle laughed; his laugh was not a lighthearted one. "When are ya gon' ta stop bein' such a puss* like them others?" he sighed, watching his little brother shiver on the side of the road. "I-I don' know how to," Daryl mumbled, and a tear finally fell down his face, making Merle sigh. The elder reached over and put a stiff hand on Daryl's head, ruffling his brown hair for just a moment before pulling away.

"I'll teach ya too."

Daryl's eyes widened as Merle's stiff hand curled into a fist and came flying towards his face.

Wham!

Daryl's eyes shot open at the awful feeling of a fist colliding with his stomach. He let out a gag, his body trying to fold in on himself at the blow out of reflex...but he couldn't?

As his senses started to wake up more, he realized that there was laughter floating around him, and a pang of worry formed in his chest as he darted his shaky orbs around to see where he was; everything looked so out of focus that he had to close his eyes for a moment again before taking another look around. His head was throbbing badly, and he vaguely realized that he was laid down on a cold floor, his back growing dumb from however long he had been stuck there. His eyes scanned over what appeared to be grey walls, before slowing to a stop when the vague shape of bars came into his view. He sucked in a breath.

He was on the floor of the prison cell.

"I was wonderin' when he'd wake up," a bubbly voice called out, followed by more laughter. Through the haze and the dimly lit room, Daryl could just barely make out the faces of the men he'd helped with the wall that one day a while ago. They all looked terrible, sporting disheveled hair and each covered in sweat that was practically dripping from their frames. They also all looked drunk, a lot more drunk than any sane person would normally get.

sh*t.

With a small burst of energy and determination to get out of the room before things got ugly, Daryl tugged at his arms and legs that felt like they were glued to the floor. There was a brown rope tying his legs together at the ankles, followed by one of the prison chains that secured them to the floor. His arms, on the other hand, he couldn't see. But he knew his wrists were tied together and being held down by something that pressed firmly into his skin, maybe even drawing blood with how tight they were.

His heart took another plunge when he realized that he was naked except for his black boxers. His eyes widened and his face flushed as he desperately tried to curl away, tried to do anything to get his scars and mangled flesh out of their hard glares.

"Struggling aint gonna help you know."

Daryl flinched as a meaty hand grabbed his chin and twisted it to the side. His glossy eyes looked up and met the dark brown ones of one of the men. He was giving Daryl a wide smirk, a devilish smile that made the archer's stomach drop. The man let out another chuckle, his alcoholic breath reaching Daryl and making him gag. Unable to move his limbs, Daryl barred his teeth and spit in the man's face.

Eyes widening in surprise, the man fell back for a second, his blonde locks bobbing as he brushed the saliva off of him and scowled.

"No wonder Rick likes ya, you're so feisty," he said at last, staring deep into the hunter's eyes as if he was trying to suck the life out of him.

Whack!

Whack!

Daryl almost let out a cry as something slammed into his stomach twice, scraping up his stomach and making his abs clench. When he looked over, the man who had dropped the plank on his back all that while ago was standing over him with a long, thin tree branch. The man grinned at him and swatted him one more time on his thighs, but Daryl gritted his teeth and remained silent.

He'd handled many beatings, he could take a couple swats. It's not like his head was burning, or his stomach was aching, or he wanted to cry and run away. No, he was fine.

On any normal day, Daryl would easily beat the men in an fight; plus, they were also all very drunk, so it would be easier to knock them down a peg. However, this was not a normal day. As, right before he had woken up in a jail cell, his mind had been whirring about the idea of asking Aaron and Eric to be his caregivers. He had let his guard down, let his little side take over just a tiny bit more than usual. Now, he was stuck, paying for his stupid slip up.

"I think you know why we're here," the final man with curly brown hair, the largest of them all, spoke as he walked up to tower over him.

Daryl gave his best 'I don't give a crap' expression, although he knew it probably looked more like a pout with his trembling lip and watery eyes that were slowly filling with more tears.

The tall man scowled, dropping his playful smirk. Clearly he was not a fan of the Dixon's attitude. In what seemed like a split second, he was on top of Daryl, straddling his waist and pinning down his neck with strong hands.

The archer's eyes widened once more as he let out a gasp for air that couldn't reach his lungs. Suddenly this was so much more than a regular beating, and Daryl started rocking his hips and twisting his torso in any attempt to get the man's hands to let go of his throat, although deep down he knew the man had much too strong of a grip for him to shake it off.

"You told Rick what happened," the man stated with a sour tone.

Daryl tried for his best head shake, only to have his throat compressed harder, his trachea being pressed closed.

"Stop lying! You knew what was going to happen!"

Daryl felt like he was having a relapse. The men above him reminded him all too much of his father: drunk idiots who were out for blood and wouldn't give a sh*t what you said. They just needed someone to break, and Daryl had been chosen as the unlucky victim of their wrath from the second he had decided to help the scumbags with the wall. He never should have done that.

His body trembled as he desperately gasped for breath. He shook his head again, trying his hardest to croak out words. Stop, his mind pleaded. It hurts.

But, as the man's hand pressed harder, it only took another couple of seconds for his vision to darken, and his movements to become sluggish. He met the eyes of the man again, and he saw that the desire to kill him was shining in them, clear as day.

And then he passed out.

"Mr. Dixon...?"

Daryl's gaze shot up from the stick he had been idly carving out with his pocket knife to find Carol's daughter, Sophia, standing Infront of him with a scared but hopeful look on her face. The girl was dressed in a light yellow shirt, which was paired with some worn blue jeans. In her arms she held two barbie dolls, both looking a bit musty, but in surprisingly good condition considering that they were found in the middle of a freaking apocalypse.

Daryl scowled in response, although it wasn't necessarily because of Sophia. "Wat'cha want?"

It had been a good week or so since Daryl and his brother had joined Shane's group, and this was probably the first time any of the kids had addressed him directly. He was sure the others had told the youngsters to stay away from him and Merle-not that he could blame them. The Dixons weren't exactly friendly to the others.

However, most of the crew was more afraid of Merle than Daryl, hence probably why Sophia was even daring to talk with him.

It wasn't really a good time though. Daryl had gone off to sit on a log by the river and was busy carving some new arrows. He had woken up this morning in one of his occasional fuzzy states-he'd been having them more and more since his suppressants ran out-so he had decided to distance himself from the others. Last thing he needed was one of them picking up on his off behavior. He wasn't exactly sure yet who the caregivers were in the group, but he couldn't risk walking over there while giving off a tidal wave of 'I need to drop' hormones. He'd spent the majority of the whole day carving wood and wandering through the forest in search of some small animals to hunt. He'd also been left alone the whole time...until Sophia had walked up to him at least.

Maybe his fuzzy mindset was why he didn't snap at Sophia when she started talking about how Carl and the other kids didn't want to play with her. Instead of telling her to nicely "f*ck off," he had listened to her introduce her two dolls: Melany and Jane.

"Since no one wants to play with me and you're all alone...Mr. Dixon, do you wanna play with me? Just for a little? Please?"

Daryl had looked up at the girl like she had grown a second head. The fact that she would even dare to come up to Daryl of all people with such a question made him bite back a scoff.

But as he looked at Sophia's slowly forming frown, and down at the dolls in her arms which looked way too interesting for him to be thinking straight, he bit his lip.

...Merle was out hunting, and the others weren't paying attention, so it should be fine...right?

At last, he sighed, and Sophia seemed to take it the wrong way, her bright eyes darkening slightly.

However, just as the girl opened her mouth to apologize, Daryl replied with a small, "okay."

He had to bite back a smirk as Sophia beamed at his response, before grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards a shady area underneath a nearby tree, practically all previous feelings of fear dissolving.

And there they played for what seemed to be just ten minutes, but in reality was probably over an hour as the sun had now started making its way down from its peak.

Daryl had been given Jane, and him and Sophia had spent the majority of the play time doing acrobatics with the dolls. Although he kept a neutral expression for most of the game, just in case one of the adults were to wander over and see him, he did crack a small smile a couple of times to which Sophia had laughed at.

It was all fun and games until Daryl noticed Sophia lifting her doll from its handstand, her cheery smile falling in a split second. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, when he felt a hand grab his right shoulder and squeeze down hard.

"Looks like yall are havin' a fun little party down here," a cold voice spoke from behind him that made him freeze.

Merle.

"Sadly, I think it's time ta end it. Your momma was hollerin' for you," Merle spoke up in a mockingly sweet tone, his words directed at Sophia.

The girl simply nodded, folding back into her shy and fearful demeanor as she gently stood up. Daryl's eyes met hers as he handed her the doll, and her gaze seemed to say "thank you" as she took it and turned around, quickly running back towards the camp.

As soon as she was out of sight, Daryl swallowed, preparing himself for what he knew would come next. Merle grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged him to a standing position, before pushing him forward like he was a prisoner who had just been caught trying to poison someone's drink.

"Walk you sissy," the man spat in the most degrading voice he had ever heard come from his brother. Daryl kept his mouth shut and complied, allowing himself to be led down towards the nearby stream. There was no use in fighting.

"I thought we almost had it cleared out of ya," Merle muttered again, his tone much more disappointed now. He pushed his brother down to his knees on the ledge of a big rock floating above the deep water. Daryl suppresseda wince as his knees scraped open from the impact.

"Guess were gon' have ta start all over now."

He had been unsure of what his brother was planning at first, but as the hand from his back went up to grasp his hair, his blue orbs widened in realization.

"I'm sorry," he tried, his voice full of sudden panic. But he knew his words fell on death ears as his brother simply sighed and leaned forward. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes as his face was pushed forcefully down into the water.

Splash!

Daryl's eyes shot open again at the feeling of ice cold water being splashed all over him. His body tensed all over, and he looked up to see the man with blonde hair standing over him with an empty bucket, a disgusted look on his face.

"I think we cleared it all away. Can't believe he pissed himself!"

Daryl started coughing, partly to get the water out of his lungs, partly because he felt like his esophagus had been crushed, and partly because he was pulled into shock from the man's statement.

He had just pissed himself in front of these guys. That was so f*cking humiliating.

He struggled tiredly against the restraints again, although he knew it wouldn't do any difference.

"When I get outta this, I'm gonna string-" Daryl began, cutting himself off with another wave of coughs. He heard the men chuckle around him, and gazed hopelessly towards the prison cell door. Of course it was locked. He wouldn't be able to escape without the key. Who even knows which one of these idiots had it?

"Who says you're getting out," the blonde man cooed freakily as he bent down over Daryl's legs.

He tensed as he felt a hand tug at his boxers.

No.

"Stop!" he yelled out, suddenly filled with a whole new wave of energy and panic. He kneed the man bent over his lower body in the face, causing the him to scowl and let go, reaching out to rub his left eye where the knee had hit.

"Oh you bitch," he muttered, and Daryl let out a small cry as the man lunged forward and dug his nails into his calf muscles.

"Stop!" He pleaded again, sounding less and less commanding. His heart thumped loudly in his chest. "I didn' tell Rick nothin!"

The tall man walked forward and bent over him, a black cloth in his hands.

"Doesn't matter. You tried ta, and now you'll deal with the consequences. We told you not ta mess with us, you mut."

The man reached his hands out, and Daryl started thrashing his head around when he saw them getting closer and closer to his head.

"Help! Somebody he-" he was cut off by the black cloth being shoved into his mouth and pulled tightly around his injured head.

"Mghm!" he tried to yell out, although it came out as a muffled murmur, making the three men laugh.

"Now, back to what I was doin," the blond man spoke after a second, reaching to grab Daryl's boxers again. Only now, the other black-haired man was helping by pressing his legs open in a butterfly pose.

"I think we'll be doin' you a favor," the man next to his head spoke, watching Daryl's panicked gaze run across the room which seemed like it was closing in on itself.

"You're gonna rather be dead after what we do ta you. Don't worry, we'll make sure your corpse stays well fed. I bet you you'll love the taste of sheriff flesh."

Daryl gagged at the man's cynical words, and let free another helpless call for help as he felt his boxers being pulled down and hastily cut off of his legs with a small blade that cut into his skin.

Assault warning!!!!

"Wow, it's nice and clean down there, just like a little's," one of the men said.

"Almost like he's been keepin' himself nice and ready for us."

"I can't wait to see what that hole can do."

Daryl let out a sob, tears finally giving in and poring down his face as he realized what was about to happen.

And he couldn't do anything to stop it.

---------------

"Daryl," Beth's sweet voice cooed from above him.

"Daryl, wake up," Merle's husky voice followed.

"Daryl."

"DARYL."

Another loud sob slipped from his lips, possibly the thousandth one by now, muffled by the sound of the soaked gag.

He felt someone's sweaty hands grab his bruised hips and thrust forward, causing him to let out another yelp and arch his back as a prickly sensation enveloped his body.

"Open your eyes Daryl, I want ya to see me all inside your pretty little hole."

Said man tried sluggishly to twist away from the hands pulling at his eyelids, but he knew it was worthless; he had fully dropped forever ago.

It seemed like they had been at this for hours, although he honestly couldn't tell what time it was because his vision was too blurry and he was too out of it to even try looking out of the small prison window. It was still dark though, he had reasoned. Otherwise someone would have came down here by now at the sounds of the men yelling and his muffled cries.

His eyes widened and a fresh whimper slipped from his lips as he felt teeth bite down on his inner thigh. Looking down as best as he could, he saw the blonde man watching him with a wide grin as he lifted up from his thigh and gave him a bloody smile. He then pushed himself forward again, sliding deeper into Daryl's already worn out bottom.

He glanced over at his abs and legs, all coated in blood, sem*n, sweat, urine, cuts, and more. Someone had carved a smiley face into side of his stomach, and it hurt with every breath he took. The man with brown hair, who had been holding his head up and and his eyes open, dropped his head and let it hit the stone floor with a thwack, causing his vision to grown dark for a second. He then bent forward and wrapped his lips around Daryl's left nipple, sucking around it before biting down hard and making Daryl cry out again.

He didn't even know what was happening anymore. As the men cut into his flesh and thrusted into his body with comments like "I know you're liking this sweetheart," and "I bet we do it so much better than Rick," he had lost focus completely, his throat going dry and sore as he called out random names. He called for Aaron, and Eric, and Rick, and Carol, and Maggie, and Glenn, and Beth, and Merle, and for a daddy and a dada he didn't even have. All of it went on dead ears as the men continued to pound into him though. He could feel their members growing hard inside him, and all the random objects they were shoving into him to stretch him out hurt like crap.

But he was long past feeling the pain. He felt like he was already dead, and that he was just a spirit watching the events unfold through his corpse. He had long stopped the struggle, instead letting the faint pleasure of repeated org*sm distract him from what was really going on. He didn't even know what he wanted anymore. He couldn't think of any logical thought except that it would be so much nicer to be snuggled up in someone's arms right now, than to be ripped apart from the inside.

He had been raped before, once or twice by some of his dads friends. But that had been different; this was so much worse.

The brown-haired man let go of his nipple just as the blonde dude climaxed inside of him and the black-haired man finished drawing the word "slu*t" into his other side.

He gazed at the celling with dead eyes as he continued to pour out tears, and his voice continued to yell nonsense, and his body continued to tremble like a leaf.

"Let me have at him next," he vaguely heard, his labored breaths growing louder as he felt one of the man's fingers trace over his ripped, bleeding hole.

No more...stop...

He closed his eyes and pushed himself to the farthest corner of his brain, He wished he could die.

They were right, death would be so much better than having to live as their chewed up ragdoll.

Bang

Bang

Bang

Daryl's flinched at the sound of three loud gunshots that came out of nowhere and wrang in his ears. Part of him wondered if the men had shot his heart and that now he was finally about to watch his corpse become a walker, his soul trapped inside for eternity. He hoped he was dead. Please.

But then he heard two familiar voices and the sound of banging followed by keys clanging at the prison door.

His eyes cracked open again and gazed at the brown-haired man who was slumped on top of him. He was bleeding; there was a bullet through his head.

His quick breaths grew impossibly quicker as his little mind processed seeing a dead man sprawled over him, his open eyes still showing signs of fading life. What was going on? Was he going to die next?

But then he heard the sound of metal creaking, and the two voices who had been yelling got a lot louder. He blinked slowly again, and when he managed to focus his vision, he saw Rick Grimes looming over him, looking like he had just seen a ghost.

"Daryl? Oh my God, Daryl. Are you with me?" the man spoke out fast, reaching over to tug off the black gag tied around his face. He flinched as the man did so, and listed to his muffled croaks grow into cracked cries as the material was torn off. He felt like the voice screaming wasn't even his; he couldn't control anything. A second later, the dead man's body was tugged off of him, and he felt the rope on his legs being cut off, shaky hands ripping it, removing it from the area where it had cut into his flesh. His arms were released a moment later, and as soon as he was unpinned, he curled himself into a fetal position, crying out random words that all blurred into gibberish. The blood from his wounds mixed into the rest of the blood on the floor, and he looked at the color; it was the color of roses.

"sh*t, sh*t. Carl, push the bodies out of the way, I need ta get him up before their blood soaks into his cuts." Daryl was vaguely aware of a "got it," followed by the sickening sound of bodies being tugged around.

He flinched badly as he felt hands reach towards his waist, pressing on his cuts and lifting him up. "It's okay, it's okay. I've gotcha," Rick muttered as he lifted Daryl to straddle his lap, the sheriff's shirt-Daryl had no idea when he had taken it off-coming to wrap around his lower parts. The skin-to-skin contact made him cry even louder, his voice croaking painfully as he shoved his face into Rick's collar bone, trembling worse than a drug addict.

"I-I'm so sorry Daryl," he vaguely heard as he struggled to press himself closer to the man. He heard the wobbling of Rick's voice as he spoke other, incomprehensible words and stood up with Daryl's frail frame in his arms. He felt blood, and sem*n, and sweat, and urine drip from him and onto the floor, and realized how petty and absolutely disgusting he must look. But Rick didn't seem to care, squeezing him in his arms like he was his own life support.

"Oh Daryl," he heard Carl whisper out as he listened to his deafening cries, not that Rick was even aware of the fact that he was holding a hurting little boy in his arms.

The sheriff started moving out of the prison and out of the building, and Daryl's body twinged in pain every step of the way. Everything was throbbing so badly he felt like he could hear it.

At last, they made it up the steps and out into the walkway of Alexandria, just the moonlight being enough to blind him.

He heard gasps come from around him; most likely the people had come running at the sound of gunshots in the middle of the night. He was sure the last thing they had all expected was to find Daryl, out of all people...looking like he just come out of a horror movie. He heard the frightened, panicked words of the people, as well as some familiar voices grow closer. He tuned them all out, keeping his eyes shut and his face hidden away. He was petrified.

Until he heard them.

"Daryl!"

His bleeding head snapped up suddenly, frightening Maggie and some of the others who now stood closely in worry. His eyes scanned out the blurry crowd of people anxiously until they landed on their target.

In the back of the crowd, shoving through people, were Aaron and Eric, both of them locked onto Daryl like they were predators about to devour their prey. Daryl didn't realize how messed up he had been until he saw their faces. Just seeing them made the world start spinning again. Suddenly he didn't want to die anymore; he just wanted to run into their arms and never let go.

And as Aaron shoved through the crowd first and ran up close, Daryl lifted up his shaky arms, and, in the smallest, weakest voice ever, cried out "D-daddy!"

Not even a second later, he was pulled from Rick's warm arms, and into Aaron's even warmer ones. Eric came up a moment later, wrapping his arms around Daryl's red back as the little cried out a shaky"da-ada!"

Daryl could finally breathe. Surrounded by the two men's warmth, their familiar scents washing over him, he finally felt like he was right there where he belonged.

He wasn't aware of the fact that everyone else had gone dead silent; wasn't aware of their wide-eyed frozen stares. He didn't hear the sound of the breath leaving Rick's throat, didn't see how Carol stumbled backwards in shock. All he was focused on was the panicked but soft words of Eric, and the loud thumping of Aaron's heartbeat.

He shut his eyes, letting their arms envelop him; letting their tears fall down on him and wash away his blood; letting their arms hold him tight, tighter than any of those three men ever had tonight.

He was safe.

He was going to be okay.

He went limp in their arms.

Chapter 12: After the Swing Stage

Chapter Text

He knew this wasn't his first time waking up. He could vaguely recall slipping in and out of consciousness various times. But he couldn't remember much else other than a lot of pain, screams, and cries, before the world blacked out again.

This time when his eyes cracked open though, he was able to keep them from shutting for more than a couple of seconds.

As his blurry vison faded, his eyes darted around the room he found himself in, analyzing where he was. It appeared to be one of the hospital rooms in Alexandria's small clinic-he'd been there enough times to know what every room of that place looked like. The lights were off and the small window on the wall a couple of feet to the right him was covered by white curtains. But even the dark room did nothing to aid the massive headache he had. He was laying flat on his back, on a hospital bed pressed on a wall in the middle of the room, his gaze directed up towards the popcorn ceiling. He was shirtless, and his lower half was covered with a thick blanket; as far as he could tell, he wasn't wearing any pants either. All of the blood and other substances that had covered his body that night had been washed away, leaving his skin itchy and scabbed. He could feel all the tight gauzes and bandages that were wrapped over his frame, and he could also feel the puffiness of a fresh diaper wrapped around his lower half. His legs felt numb from laying down for so long, and he softly shifted his right one to the side a bit on the bed, in an attempt to get into a more comfortable position.

The slight movement caused a spike of pain to shoot through his groin area, making him whine impulsively. His body had finally yanked itself out of headspace again, he didn't know how long he had been in it, and now he was back in that awful in between state, where he could form logical adult thoughts, but his body acted on its own.

"Daryl?"

A groggily voice coming from somewhere next to his legs make him jump slightly, another flare of pain gushing through his body. From the way he was laying, he couldn't see past his stomach, and the back of his head was aching too much to force it up. His breathing quickened as he tried to place the voice, his mind still out of sorts. What if it was one of the men who had tired to kill him? He thought they had all died, and it would be kind of weird for them to take him to a hospital, but there was a possibility that-

His brief panic was halted when a man with a horrible case of bedhead messing up his usually pristine ginger hair sat up in a bedside chair and leaned over him, a mountain of concern in his eyes.

"Eric?" Daryl croaked, his throat feeling dry. Upon hearing his voice, the caregiver next to him seemed to breath a large sigh of relief, although still sounding sick from worry.

"Oh my gosh, oh Daryl. You can see me? You can hear me? Thank goodness, you're finally back."

"...Back?" Daryl restated quietly, watching as Eric raked a hand through his hair before straightening himself back up and reaching down the side of the medical bed. A moment later, Daryl felt the bed raise up a bit under his head, and he finally wasn't looking at the celling anymore.

"You were out of it for a while," Eric muttered sadly as he pressed his hand to Daryl's forehead, the little flinching slightly under the touch. "It was awful hearing your screams and not being able to do anything about it."

The archer watched as Eric adjusted the blanket around him and brushed his hand over a couple of the bandages that he could now see covered his entire stomach. A pang of guilt hit him as the caregiver wiped away at a tear; he felt awful for having been the one to cause it.

"Do you remember what happened at all? Any memory problems? Daddy should be back any moment now, and then the nice doctor Siddiq will take a look at your injuries."

Daddy

For some reason, it was like Daryl hadn't even remembered all that had happened, and the severity of it, until that moment. He had been kidnapped. And beaten. And raped. And then his secret had been revealed to the entire city. And, in the middle of it all, he had yelled out for his daddy and dada, even though he didn't have either.

His breath stilled as his brain tried to wrap around it all. Men, three ugly, disgusting men, had shoved their limbs inside of him and ripped apart his body, treating him as if he had been a sex toy. And then, the secret he had been keeping his entire f*cking life had been shattered in just two small words.

And yet, despite it all, he was still alive.

"They all know..." was the first thing that left Daryl's mouth after an eternity of silence. Rick knew, and Carol knew, and Glenn knew, and Maggie knew, and now they all knew.

"They do, I'm so sorry it had to be this way."

His throat closed up as another whine slipped from his lips. His chest fell and rose quickly, a large twinge of pain shooting through him every time it did so. Eric grabbed one of his shaky hands and reached forward, planting a warm kiss on Daryl's cold forehead. That was all he could do; he didn't want to hurt the little.

Daryl seemed to cave more at the small act of love, an act that had already given more love than he'd ever received in his years on earth.

"I wanted ta die," he spoke at last, his voice wobblily now as he revisited the tidal wave of emotions he'd experienced that night.

"I wanted ta die Eric. What they did felt worse than death."

Eric's hands were rested on his shoulders now, rubbing small circles into them. Daryl wasn't usually one for contact comfort, but right now he honestly wished he were off of this dumb hospital bed, and wrapped up in the caregiver's arms.

"I know baby, I know. What you went through was awful, and no one should ever, ever have to go through what you had to. But look at you, you made it out; you're my strong boy. And nothing like that will ever happen to you again."

As Eric finished speaking, Daryl finally caved into his emotions and let out a small sob and a wave of tears, his eyes still sore from the last time he must've balled his eyes out. He wanted to stay strong, to stop acting like a baby. But he had no more energy left to fight, especially not when Eric looked so lovingly at him. Ignoring the flare of pain, he lifted his arms shakily towards the caregiver, watching as Eric instantly scooped his own under his armpits and softly caressed the parts of his back not pressed into the mattress, now standing and leaning over the bed awkwardly. He soaked in the man's touch as if it was the only thing keeping him alive-maybe it was. The way Eric had referred to him as his boy made him melt like butter, and suddenly he couldn't imagine living a life without the two men who had saved him the other day.

Speaking of the other man, after a couple seconds of tears and hugs, the door in the corner of the light blue hospital room was pulled open, and Daryl heard the quick shuffling of feet before a familiar scent came up on the opposite side of the hospital bed. He felt another pair of arms wrap delicately around him, and he practically imploded when he raised his glossy eyes to find Aaron leaning over him as well.

"A-aron," he stuttered, trying to blink away all the tears that clouded his vision. He felt both men wrap around him a bit tighter, and it made him start sobbing even more. He didn't want to hurt, didn't want to be like this. Despite craving their touch with all his heart, some piercing voice in the back of his head was still condemning him for how wrong it was for him to be relying on these two men like this.

"Hey darling," Aaron's soothing voice spoke up, although he could hear the small cracks in it, almost like the caregiver was trying to hold himself together. A few tears had slipped by his eyes, but he was doing much better than Eric who, by now, had a whole waterfall of tears rolling down his cheeks. Daryl must've let out some sort of half whine at the man's words, because Aaron continued with an, "It's okay now, we're here."

Finally, after a bit longer of their warm embrace, Daryl started to calm down. All of the events of that night had shredded him apart, physically and mentally. But with Aaron and Eric nearby, a part of him was consoled with the fact that these men would try to never let something like that ever happen again.

Although, another part of his mind wondered if Aaron and Eric were here next to him out of genuine care, or simply out of pity because they were his friends, and because he had made such a big scene that night about only wanting them. He tried not to think about their affection in that way, instead focusing on controlling his breathing and soaking up enough comfort while he could.

Eventually though, much too soon for him, Aaron and Eric pulled back, each still holding one of his hands tightly. He let out another embarrassing noise in response, unable to filter himself. He was just about to wonder why they had pulled away...when he realized there was another person standing at the foot of his bed.

It was Siddiq. He must've came in with Aaron, but Daryl hadn't seen him. He seemed to be doing okay, with a freshly shaven beard and a worried look plastered on his face. He was in normal house clothes and sweats, but wore a white coat over it all. He was also holding a white tote bag with him, that probably had some medical supplies in it.

The man met his eyes and offered him a sweet smile which seemed to brake whatever trance he had been in, because he suddenly found himself tugging Aaron and Eric's hands to cover his face, a soft blush covering his cheeks. He was well aware of the fact that everyone now knew what he was, but it was a completely new feeling having to meet someone directly. He thought of all the times he had spoken to Siddiq. The man was nice and smart, but they usually only spoke when something big was happening, so he was used to seeing Daryl all wound up and deadly. Now though, he was laying in a flimsy bed, naked and wounded, desperately trying to cover his eyes while the two caregivers next to him cooed softly.

He heard a small hum, and them some slow footsteps approach him. "That's actually a good reaction," the man spoke, probably not to Daryl. A moment later, the little opened his eyes at the feeling of tugging at his wrist, and he found Siddiq messing with the connectors of these IV tubes, or whatever, that were stuck in the arm Eric was holding-he hadn't even noticed them before. "It means he's out of the swing stage." Daryl sniffled as he took a breath through his stuffy nose, wondering what exactly that meant. Aaron and Eric seemed to understand though, as they both muttered "thank God" in unison, and squeezed Daryl's hands a bit tighter.

Daryl wanted to ask what exactly was happening to him, and what all the medical terms the doctor continued to mutter as he looked over him meant, but he was distracted by Siddiq poking around his head and stomach and asking where hurt and how badly. The man gave him a cup of pain reliver to drink- it was a fruity type meant for littles- and tried to ask Daryl what he remembered about the night before in the nicest way possible as he rubbed ointment over his bruised neck and changed one of the bandages on the back of his head. The area was healing up nicely, Siddiq had claimed; apparently he had gotten a small concussion, but it had healed in the days Daryl had spent in the hospital. Upon asking how long he had stayed, Daryl learned that he had been out of it for over a week, something the man said he would explain more thoroughly after he was done checking over everything.

Daryl felt like throwing up when Siddiq had ripped off a soiled bandage on the side of his stomach to reveal the scabbed words 'slu*t' carved into him. He had closed his eyes at that point, letting Eric and Aaron speak to him lovingly, and tried to believe their sweet words that spoke of how all these scars would fade away, as his body continued to tense in pain every time the doctor touched him.

When he felt the blanket being pulled off of his torso, he finally let out one of the fresh sobs he had been holding since the whole checkup had started. He tried not to move as Siddiq quickly unstrapped the diaper and rubbed numbing cream over all the injuries he knew looked absolutely disgusting, but he couldn't help involuntarily flinching at times. The doctor's touch reminded him all too much of the men that had wrecked him, and he found himself starting to hyperventilate again. However, as quickly as the touch was there, it was gone, and the blanket was rested back over him, lots of soothing words flying around the room about how brave he was.

He wasn't sure when the last time he had eaten was, but he had to choke down the burning feeling of bile in his throat as he attempted to draw as much comfort as he could from Aaron and Eric's touch. Siddiq spoke some incomprehensible words before walking out of the room, and Daryl was left alone for a couple minutes to gather his composure again as the two caregivers showered him with love.

---

When the door opened again after a little while, Siddiq walked in holding another tote bag, this one blue. He set it on one of the empty chairs by the room's window, and pulled a paper and a some blood sample out. It was probably his own blood, Daryl figured, watching as the man dug through his bag once more before pulling something else out and hiding it in his palm. He walked over next to Aaron and leaned over Daryl, stretching his closed palm out towards him before opening it. It was a lollipop. "This is for you being such a brave boy," the man spoke, giving Daryl another warm smile. He dropped it on Daryl's lap and quickly adjusted part of the blanket before standing back up to full height. "You don't have to eat it now, but getting some sugar in your tummy will actually help you recover faster," he spoke in a sort of playful tone that one would only speak to towards a child. Daryl knew he should've said something, maybe give the man a thank you for the lollipop, or even argue a little about not wanting to be spoken to like a baby. But he couldn't bring his mouth to open, instead nodding when the man asked if they were okay to discuss what had happened.

The younger caregiver reached towards the paper that he had left placed on the bedside table, picking it up and clearing his throat.

"Okay Daryl," Siddiq said after a moment, taking a deep breath of air, almost like he was nervous for the conversation ahead.

"I have a couple things I would like to go over on your injuries in a bit. But, the first thing we need to discuss is the elephant in the room. You're a little who has been hiding your classification at least since the apocalypse has started."

Siddiq's eyes focused on him, as if he was trying to dissect every little emotion that he was giving off. Daryl just nodded in response to Siddiq's statement, a small frown appearing on his face as he realized he was going to have a lot to explain.

"I have a pretty good guess on what's going on with your headspace and what your body needs right now," the man continued. "But before I can give you a true answer, I'm going to need you to help me fill in some data gaps, okay?"

Daryl frowned further, but made no move to disagree. "Good, are you okay with your daddies being here? I think it would be helpful for them to learn a bit more about you." There was that word again, the one that made it sound as if Daryl actually belonged to a family. He blushed and tilted his head to the side, bits of his hair falling into his face. Hearing Aaron and Eric be called his daddies made his stomach churn, but in a good way. He wasn't sure if, after all that had happened, Aaron and Eric were going to take the spot of being his actual caregivers or not. He knew that he would need one now that he had been outed, and he also knew that the two men had once told him how they would love to care for him. Also, Eric did refer to Aaron as his daddy earlier so maybe...

Then again though, feelings change; Daryl was so f*cked up right now that he doubted anyone with a sane mine would want to deal with him...

But what he did know was that the two men next to him made him feel impossibly safe. He nodded again after a moment, muttering a small "yes" in response to Siddiq's question and sitting compliantly as Aaron brushed away the brown locks in his face. He hated talking about the past, but he also knew he would have to share it eventually. Part of him also felt like he owed it to the couple to let them know exactly how he ended up this way. Siddiq probably wouldn't prod that much anyway, just some routine questions.

"Okay, let's get started then, shall we?" Siddiq spoke up again, and Daryl swallowed loudly.

"When were you aware that you were a little and not a neutral?"

"when I was 15."

"M'kay. Was anyone else aware at the time, or did you keep it a secret."

"My pa, ma, and brother knew."

"Were you living healthily as a little before the apocalypse?"

"No."

It was a curt answer, but it gave across enough information. Daryl had never experienced the proper upbringing a little was supposed to have. It was already pretty damn obvious from his personality and his scars, but he could still feel the grip Aaron and Eric had on his hands intensifying.

"Is it okay if you could elaborate a bit? Did you go into headspace sometimes? Not much? Surely at least a few times since the laws made you." Daryl responded to the man's question with a poorly hidden scowl, shifting his throbbing head around on the pillow that was pressed into it.

"I was never a little to the law; my pa forged some documents or somethin'. I used suppressants."

The silence in the room was deadly. Daryl felt like he was being choked by how thick the tension was. "...So you never dropped?" He blinked calmly at the whispered words of the doctor. He nodded again. "I doubled up on suppressants every day, my pa and Merle made sure I took em'. My ma too before she...well before the fire got 'er. She was a big druggie; I think my pa might've gotten all the suppressants from the same place she got her stuff. They didn't like littles at all." He involuntarily shivered at the memory. Of all the harsh beatings he'd receive after skipping a day of medication. Of how many times he'd been kicked out of the house for doing something dumb. He knew it had all been very abusive and neglectful at the time, but he'd always thought it was for his own good that he didn't fall into his headspace.

Well, he had thought that until meeting Aaron and Eric...

"Daryl...do you know how bad taking all those drugs is for you?" Another small nod was given in response. He didn't know a lot about it all, considering he never really went to school or took those courses on classifications. But he was aware that the suppressants were not meant to be taken as often and vigorously as he had been scarfing them down; the bottles were always covered in warnings and symptoms of overdosing. But then again, it wasn't exactly like he had a choice, and he eventually became addicted to them, so it had been hard to push them away before the apocalypse. And the withdrawal from not having them after so many years relying on them had been awful, and was something he was still going through-as seen from his recent encounter with them at that large store.

Siddiq gave a similar nod back to Daryl after a moment, sighing as he reached over to grab one of the blood samples. Daryl had been keeping his eyes on the man for the majority of the recent conversation, not wanting to see whatever faces Aaron and Eric might be making. However, his focus was broken when a gentle hand on his chin guided his attention over to Aaron's face. The man looked visually upset, his eyes wide with worry, and a light layer of sweat coating his brow. He couldn't help the involuntary quiver of his lip as he realized how much he hated seeing the man look so pained. He felt bad for being the one to cause it.

"Sweetheart," the man cooed, moving his hand from Daryl's chin to brush slowly over his cheeks, and the little felt himself melting under the touch. Eric bent himself over the side of the bed, and the pained look on his face matched Aaron's perfectly.

"Is it okay if we ask you a small question? Now that we're all talking about this stuff?"

Of course, is what he wanted to say in response. But before he could form the words, he noticed Aaron bring over his hand to carefully rub against one of the old scars on his upper arm, and he faltered. The caregivers had started speaking to him again, something reassuring about how they would never pressure him to say something he didn't want to, but his mind started to tune them out, already knowing what they wanted to ask about.

They wanted to know about his scars, probably about who had given them to him. It made sense after all. They where here with Siddiq, and Daryl was hinting about how awful his family had been as he answered the doctor's questions. So it was only natural that the couple had started to draw conclusions and wanted to know more. They deserve to know, he told himself. He knew he would have to tell them more one day, if they all became closer, about his past and what had shaped him into the person he was today. But was right now, in front of another person, after being out of his mind of his mind for who knows how long, the time to do it?

"Daryl? You okay?"

He made his choice when he heard the raw worry in Eric's voice as the man pulled him from his thoughts. f*ck it. His scars were something he'd always been ashamed of; he never let anyone see them, and they always reminded him of what a screw up he was. He had gotten some of them for acting like a brat, others for getting into fights, and most just because he had been the family's disappointment.

But he didn't have to tell Aaron and Eric all that right now. They were just looking for clarification on how he'd gotten all his marks. He glanced briefly over to Siddiq who was awkwardly turned away from the bed, looking at the paper in his hands very thoroughly, obviously giving them some privacy. He sighed.

"Most of them were from my pa," he whispered quietly, cutting off whatever Aaron was saying about how this conversation could wait. But really, this was no better time to get some small facts down. They would talk about all the details another day.

"Some of 'em were from Merle," he continued, eyes trained to his blanket-covered lap. "I got a couple from street fights and bein' silly. Also some from Merle's friends; they were really mean."

Truth to be told, most of Daryl's scars simply came from the fact that he had been discovered as a little. Before then, he'd gotten beaten just because that's how his life was. But after he'd been 'classified,' the beatings had increased exponentially. Although his dad never always specified why he would lash out at Daryl, it was pretty obvious that the man did so because he was ashamed of his son. As for Merle, his brother never hurt him as bad as his dad would, but the occasional fist beating and slash with a knife or burn with a lighter would occur. Back then, Daryl had believed that his brother was an awful jerk. But, after his death, he had realized exactly how much he had loved his big brother. Even though his actions were horrendous and unacceptable...it was obvious that the man had cared about his little brother, and he had probably been the most reliable adult figure in his life.

"Thank you for sharing with us," Eric spoke as he softly rubbed Daryl's hand. "You're being so brave right now sweetie. We promise, just a little more, and then we'll let you rest." The caregiver watched as Daryl nodded and swallowed nervously. Daryl's normally thin and piercing eyes were now replaced with large, doe eyes filled with nothing but worry and the need for approval, and Eric couldn't help but plant another quick kiss into his hair as Aaron spoke up for Siddiq to continue.

"So..." the doctor spoke, dragging out the word as he lifted up one of the blood vials for the three men to see. "We don't exactly have any good equipment to properly analyze the blood here right now. However, I was able to spin it to separate some of its continents, and that's what I looked at." Siddiq smiled a bit as he watched his audiences' perplexed faces. However, the small smile quickly dropped as he began to explain the problems that he had found when analyzing the small amount of blood. "From this sample here, it is easy to see, even without any special equipment, that your blood supply is heavily lacking in Leiopols, the type of blood cells that are normally abundant in a little's blood stream.

Daryl simply stared at the younger man as he spoke, not exactly understanding what it was he was talking about. He wasn't exactly well-versed in little biology-or any biology for that matter- so he had never heard the term Leiopol in his life. However, the two horribly concealed gasps that came from each side of him told him that Aaron and Eric had definitely heard the term before, and that whatever Siddiq was describing wasn't good. He bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably, the cuts on his stomach burning as he did so.

"How is that possible?" Aaron spoke beside him, sounding frighteningly shocked. "From what I learned in all those caregiving classes, most little's blood is made up of up to 30% of Leiopol cells. They're responsible for maintaining a little's body equilibrium; it's considered very damaging to even lack a few. How does he barely have any?" Aaron raised his voice as he spoke his last question, causing Daryl to flinch a bit. His now swollen lip rubbed uneasily between his lip as he watched the man take a deep breath before reaching over and gently rubbing at one of the bruises on the little's arm. Meanwhile, Eric had his other hand again, and was softly tracing lines into his palm as he struggled to keep his worry off of his face.

"You're right, Daryl's lack of this type of blood cell is very concerning," Siddiq agreed, eyes showing a bit of pity. "Now that Daryl has answered some things about his past though, it makes a lot more sense. No little is born with these cells in their body from the start. Rather, as puberty hits, they begin to appear, and around the time of their official classification exam, about 5% of the cells have grown. As going into headspace allows for the next 25% of the blood cells to grow, many littles spend the first couple years of their classification in their headspace more than they usually would, so that their body can properly grow and develop the rest of the cells. Even after a sufficient amount is present, consistent headspace time is needed to keep these cells, and therefore the body, healthy and happy."

Siddiq's eyes bore into Daryl's again, giving the little a small, sympathetic smile before continuing. Daryl seemed a bit confused, but also like he was trying to take in every word he said. "You mentioned how you basically never dropped up until now, and how you had also been overdosing on suppressants. From all of that, I can come to the conclusion that your lack of headspace prevented you from ever developing the other 25% of Leiopols needed. And, without them, your body is slowly shutting down, has been shutting down for years."

"...Shutting down? What do you mean shutting down?"

The absolute frailness and pure worry in Daryl's voice made all three caregivers grow tight in their chests. Siddiq took another deep breath, watching as Aaron and Eric turned to face each other.

"What I mean is...you're very close to being killed by your own body, Daryl. You've been in what's known as a 'swing stage' for a bit over a week now. It's a stage that littles go through when their headspace starts eating away at their body's brain. Normally, the next stage after the swing one is... is death."

Daryl felt the air grow stiff and cold around him. He blinked a couple times, trying to wrap his head around what Siddiq had said. His body was killing itself? He almost died of something other than his physical wounds?

His lip wobbled pathetically again as he took in the severity of it all. The caregivers had all gone silent again, leaving his thoughts to ring in his ears.

He'd lived his whole life out of his headspace, so why couldn't he just keep on doing that? He had always felt like sh*t for pushing back his little side, but he had never felt like he was going to die...right? Surely there must be something wrong. A headspace couldn't kill you, right? It's not like he had a disease or something... did this count as an illness? He swallowed as another thought flew into his mind.

What if Aaron had never found out his classification that one day, and he had continued to remain as a neutral to everyone's eyes? Would he have been okay, or would he have gone into the swing stage anyway? Would he have died? What if he had become a walker and gone downstairs in his shared house to bite Glenn, or Maggie, or Carol in their sleep? He sniffled loudly out of nowhere, sliding his hands out of the caregivers' grasps to rub at his eyes which had started to pool with tears uncontrollably.

He didn't want to die...or at least he didn't want to die from something as stupid as this. Just a week and a couple days ago he had wanted it all to end, but now that he was alive and surrounded by Aaron and Eric, he didn't want that anymore. He couldn't even bear to think about the look on their faces-on everyone's faces- if he were to die right now, from something that had been his own damn fault.

"Hey hey, it's okay sweetheart," he heard Aaron coo as the man brought a tissue to run under his eyes. Daryl let him wipe his tears and snot compliantly; he had already been through way too many embarrassing things in the past couple of weeks to care that he was being treated like a baby. Instead, he leaned into the touch, trying to calm himself down before his tears grew into something more.

"Yes, I'm sure there's something we can do to help you," Eric reassured, giving a pointed look towards Siddiq to let him know he should start giving some solutions.

"Actually, there is," said man spoke up, speaking hopefully to try and get Daryl's attention again. It worked.

"It would definitely take some time, but the best way to bring your body towards its natural balance is to simply allow it headspace time to do so. This would obviously involve being little for a lot more time than most other littles typically would be, but it's the best way to get you healthy again. Just one day or so in headspace should already be enough to start building up the leiopols."

The little sniffled again, his eyelashes wet with tears as he looked at Siddiq's soft visage. "But I already dropped twice recently, why didn't either of those drops help?" He was well aware of the unusually vulnerable voice he had spoken in, but he couldn't help himself. And the looks of full pity that he was shown in response made him feel even smaller and a bit frustrated.

"Because buddy," Siddiq replied, "both of those times something traumatic scared you into your headspace. Your body only benefits from being in little space if you slip into it naturally."

"But how...how can I do that?"

"All littles have their own different ways of falling into their headspace. But doing something calming like coloring or playing with toys could help you drop. However, since you've basically never fully dropped willingly before, it might take a while to get there. And when you do, you'll most likely either have trouble staying down for long, or be under for a while."

Daryl nodded along, understanding, but still looking somber. A realization peaked in his mind. "...But what if I can't?", he asked quietly. Judging from everything he'd done to push away his headspace, trying to bring it forward again on his own terms seemed almost impossible. He heard Eric hum in response, and turned to look at the man. "Don't worry, that's for us all to figure out together. Me and your daddy will make sure you are as healthy as can be." The man reached over and softly tapped Daryl's nose, making him blush a bit, his tears starting to dry up. " I Promise."

"Okay," Siddiq continued. I know that Daryl needs to get some more rest and process this all, so I'll wrap it up quickly. I just want to cover some of the physical injuries real quick." Upon seeing Aaron and Eric nod, Siddiq continued. "From the looks of it Daryl, you'll be able to get out of here and back home in about three days or so. Obviously you won't have been nearly recovered by then, but everything else we can do to help you here could also be done at home, and that sounds a lot more comfortable than being stuck on this hospital bed. Of course though, I'd be stopping by for checkups every couple of days in the beginning."

Daryl nodded his agreement. He could feel all of the aches and pains he had accumulated simply from laying on the small bed for so long, and he was eager to get out of the room. However, he wasn't sure if homewas referring to his shared house with Maggie and the others, or Aaron and Eric's house. The selfish part of him hoped it was the latter. The caregivers' house felt more like his home than anywhere else. Also, he wasn't sure he could handle speaking to anyone just yet, much less an entire house of people who would no doubt overwhelm him with questions and pity. It made sense too, considering how both men seemed nowhere near ready to let him out of their sights.

"The major injuries you need to worry about are on the sides of your stomach and your private parts," Siddiq continued. "Your head is all wrapped up for a couple small cuts, but the concussion and all the rest seems to be clearing up well, so you just need to keep it wrapped. You'll be given lots of bandages, cream, and medicine for other areas, and I will explain properly to your daddies how to care for the harder things. Mainly the slightly complicated injuries you have around your bottom half."

Daryl gulped, feeling a little embarrassed and guilty at the fact that Siddiq automatically expected Aaron and Eric to care for him. They hadn't even decided that for themselves...had they?

"Why can't you just tell me how?" he asked, his voice very quiet. "That's because its a caregiver's job to care for their little," he heard Aaron speak lightly in response, and he dropped his head a bit, now feeling much more embarrassed than guilty, giving into the man's words as he didn't have the energy to start an argument.

"Yes, it is," Siddiq agreed. "And, you've been dealing with everything on your own for so long, so now you get to experience what it's like to have others helping you." Siddiq stood back up as he finished talking, collecting his things before addressing the others again.

"Those were the main things I wanted to discuss for the time being. Daryl, you rest up for a bit, and I'll make some food and speak with Aaron and Eric a little more before we continue ."

Daryl nodded, waving softly back as Siddiq waved goodbye and walked out of the door with a small smile on his face. He sighed as the door shut, feeling awful, but at the same time more relieved now that he knew the gist of all that had happened. He had essentially been assaulted and raped, stuck in a panic state for over a week, and now he needed to fall into headspace before his own body killed itself. Fun.

He heard Eric yawn and watched the caregiver stretch out his arms before looking back to him with a small smile. "Well, that was definitely some information," the man joked, trying to ease the tense atmosphere. Aaron nodded and let out his own yawn before gently reaching out and caressing Daryl's cheek. "We're so happy that you're back with us Daryl, and we promise you'll never have to go through anything like that ever again, not if we can help it."

Daryl nodded in response, though his brow furrowed a bit when one of his previous thoughts came back into his head. He looked down, suddenly feeling very ashamed. "What it is darling?" Eric asked. "Did something start hurting more? Your stomach?"

He shook his head no in response, although his body was hurting like crazy if he was being honest. But that wasn't what he was thinking about at the moment. He took a deep breath, willing himself to look as strong as he could as he faced both caregivers with the best smile he could muster. "Thank you," he began. "Thank you for dealin' with me. I'm so sorry that you got sucked into all of this; I know it was wrong a' me to refer to you as-as...those words. I just couldn't think straight at all that night an' all I seemed to want was you two. I...God damn it. I'm so sorry for making you two deal with all of this. I don't want you to stick around just outta pity. So pl-please just go, I'll figure it out on my own, I promise."

By the time he had finished speaking his breath was ragged and his eyes were glossy again. But he took a deep breath, trying to console himself through the unbearable silence. He did it. The two men would leave, and he wouldn't feel like a burden anymore. He'd figure all of this out and life would go back to the way it used to be; he'd find a way to fix it all.

What he wasn't expecting was for Aaron to speak up in such a visibly offended voice.

"How could you say that, Daryl?"

The man in question cowered at the caregiver's tone, feeling a wave of pain hit him. That was it, he told himself. Now that Aaron and Eric were mad at him, they'd leave him for sure. He kept his face lowered, not wanting either of the men to see the tears falling down his face. Truth is, he didn't know what he wanted. He knew he shouldn't need anyone to care for him or love him...but he also liked it so much.

"M' sorry," he wobbled out, body tightening as a hand grabbed his chin and lifted it up. His eyes shut practically automatically, expecting some sort of slap or punch. Instead, he felt two pairs of lips peck his forehead, and then his nose and cheeks. When he managed to open his eyes, he saw that Aaron's expression was angry, but not at him. He seemed to be almost angry at himself. Eric shared a similar visage, sighing as he looked at Daryl with watery eyes.

"Can we ask you a question, Daryl?" Eric asked, to which Daryl nodded. Eric smiled sadly. "Do you remember what Aaron and me told you that morning you ate breakfast in our house after falling into headspace?"

He nodded again instantly, the memory of that day coming back to him practically picture perfect.

"What did we ask you?"

"...That you wanted ta be my ca-caregivers."

Aaron hummed. "That was completely true. We love you so much Daryl; we're not staying out of pity, or because we owe you or something. You've been the only thing on our mind for ages now. We want to care for you and have you as our little boy. When you called us daddy and dada-the situation made it too hard to think about it- but afterwards, we were both filled with so much pride and love. To think that a part of you even thought of us as more than just your stubborn friends made us so happy. We need you as much as you need us. And we would be honored to take you into our family...if you'll let us."

Great, he was crying again.

Daryl felt his ears grow red as tears started to stream down his face, still wet from the other times he had cried today. Aaron had leaned over the bed more, and was now softly rubbing his shoulders. Now more than ever, he longed to be out of the hospital bed and in their arms.

"Is that okay with you baby?" Eric asked, also pressing himself closer. "Is it okay if we become your official dada and daddy?"

A small sob left his lips as he nodded his head practically instantly. He felt so vulnerable, but also so loved. He'd never thought his life would lead up to his moment; he'd never thought anyone would ever want to be with him. But then these two caregivers had come along and flipped everything upside down. He was so grateful; he didn't deserve all of this.

He was peppered with kisses again as he sobbed, listening to Aaron and Eric's coos. "Our baby boy," Aaron muttered, wiping at the little's cheeks. "We will always be there for you, no matter what."

All sense of doubt over Aaron and Eric actually liking him was now long gone as he continued to find comfort in both of the men's touches and voices. He could tell he wasn't little, and yet his harsh exterior had broken down and left him a complete mess.

But it felt right, having Aaron and Eric by his side, his caregivers by his side. The couple seemed to treat him as if he was something unworldly special. They pushed away all his aches and pains, and made him feel the safest he'd ever been in his entire life. They made him feel like he never wanted to be out of their sight again.

As he calmed down, the bed was lowered back to a flat position, and the lights in the room were dimmed. Soft hands wiped the brimming tears from his eyes, while others brought a tissue to his red nose. The blanket was adjusted to tuck under his neck, and his hair was pushed behind his ears, and finally, his eyes slipped shut again. He felt his forehead being peppered with kisses again, and two strong hands grabbed onto his own. And then he heard soft humming, and after a few more moments he had drifted off to sleep again, feeling safe and secure.

That night, despite all the traumas he had been through, he slept like a baby, dreaming about swimming at the beach with Aaron and Eric.

Chapter 13: The Struggles of Too Much Love

Chapter Text

The quiet whispering of voices and the gentle touches of a hand were what first awoke Daryl from his heart-racing nightmares. With a small groan, he reached up to rub at his face, his brain still attempting to power itself on. But as he opened his eyes and squinted at the three caregivers in front of him in the dimly lit hospital room, he remembered exactly what was going on.

It was currently about the middle of the night, exactly five days and four nights since he had first woken up in the hospital in Alexandria. Since his conversation with Siddiq, Aaron, and Eric on his current condition and what was likely to change from then on, Daryl had been kept largely oblivious to any of the other trivial matters that went on; Aaron and Eric usually said something along the lines of "that's for the caregivers to focus on," when he asked.

For most of the days in the hospital, his time was basically divided into sleep, checkups and small physical therapy exercises, and 'snuggle time' which Siddiq said would be beneficial to the quicker healing of his body, as apparently having a caregiver's scent near him stimulated his hormones and aided in recovery. It took around another two days after the original checkup for Daryl to be able to sit up fully by himself in the bed, and then another to be able to lift and move around his legs without any serious pain. Of course, all of his movements continued to hurt like sh*t, but at the very least he wasn't ripping open any wounds or feeling severely light-headed from the pain anymore, which Siddiq took as a sign that he had reached the best health he'd be able to reach while strapped in a hospital bed. Now, the doctor claimed that it was necessary for Daryl to go home and wrap himself up in the safety of his caregivers' house so that he could drop and start to bring his body towards the homeostasis it needed to be in.

Just a couple hours before the present moment, the three men had explained one of two important things: That Daryl would be taken home that night. The reason for the travelling between buildings happening in the dark was so that Daryl would be able to avoid the influx of people and questions that would be bound to show up if they left the hospital in the day. Daryl had quickly agreed to the idea, and part of him was very thankful that the caregivers had taken the situation into proper perspective. Because, as much as he loved Carol, and Glenn, and all of the others, he couldn't imagine having to go through everyone's cries, and frustrations, and concerns all at once right now. He still needed time to even accept the fact that his classification was now out, and that he was now officially Arron and Eric's little.

Speaking of Aaron and Eric, ever since their heart-to-heart talk about wanting to be a family and having Daryl as their little, which ended in him agreeing full-heartedly, both caregivers had been practically fawning over him. They constantly commented on how gorgeous and strong he was, were always snuggling up to him as close as they could, and referred to themselves only as daddy and dada. They seemed to actually be enjoying the fact that they now had someone to care fore, a realization that both confused him and made him feel unusually special inside.

"Good morning there, lovely," Aaron's deep and smooth voice spoke up amidst the haziness of the post-sleep grogginess. He felt the man's hand reach up to brush through his hair, and he closed his eyes briefly again, content to relax under the man's touch while the other two voices continued to whisper on some side of the room.

When Aaron's hand was pulled out of his hair and the back part of the bed began to rise, pushing him up to a seating position, he finally opened his eyes fully and glanced at everything going on. Siddiq was speaking with Eric near the door of the room and was currently handing the man a bag of stuff that no doubt contained medications and everything he would need. Meanwhile, Aaron was standing by his side and adjusting some device by the bed. When he was done, he looked back over to Daryl with a sweet smile.

"You ready to go?"

Daryl nodded silently in response, a soft yawn leaving his lips as he shakily shifted his legs to the side of the hospital bed, draping them over the side. his socked feet rested an inch or two off of the floor, and he took a quiet breath, steeling himself for the sudden pain he'd know he'd face when he stood up to walk back to the house. He wondered if he'd even be able to stand up by himself right now though...

Turns out he didn't have to test that out, as Aaron walked in front of him, bent down, and hooked his hands under his armpits. He felt himself being raised up carefully, and then suddenly pressed against the man's chest, one hand on the small of his back, and the other on his padded bottom. He let out an involuntary squeak and looked up to meet Aaron's eyes. The man chuckled in response.

"Don't worry, daddy's got you," he spoke softly. "Does it hurt when I hold you? You okay?"

Blush covered his face, but Daryl tried his hardest to not act too uncomfortable, instead whispering a small "It's fine," in response. It was obvious that he wasn't fully big right now, and the little side of him was practically begging to be coddled by the caregiver who was holding him. However, the saner part of him still felt completely ashamed at what he was doing.

He felt the hand from the small of his back move to the back of his head, which was then gently pressed into Aaron's shoulder. "It's okay. Just go back to sleep, and when you wake up you'll be all nice and cozy at our house, okay darling?"

Daryl didn't respond, instead simply shifting the angle of his head to be more comfortable, and trying to relax himself by breathing in Aaron's smell. He had been pampered enough by Aaron and Eric recently to be able to almost accept the fact that he loved being held by them, and even kind of liked the pet names. However, he still felt a bit guilty as Aaron started to sway him back and forth, his mind wondering how ashamed his brother and family would be right now if they were to see him like this.

Before he knew it, his eyelids were feeling heavy, and he let them fall shut again, feeling the thumping of feet as Aaron carried him out of the room. The caregiver stopped moving for a second, and some quick small mutters were exchanged between the men, and then he heard the small click of a door being unlocked. Suddenly, a blast of cold air hit him, and he instinctively pressed himself closer to Aaron. The man pressed what felt like a kiss to his forehead in response, and then they were moving again.

The air was chilly, but it was also so refreshing to him. As someone who had grown up practically in the wilderness, being outside was his favorite place to be, and having been stuck in the stuffy hospital room for over two weeks now had been very suffocating. Allowing his eyes to crack open for a little bit, he glanced around at the town of Alexandria, empty and dark, except for the small lights that lined the sides of the walkways. It was fairly quiet outside except for the sweet hum of cicadas and chirping of crickets. He heard the occasional growl of a louder walker, but for the most part the hospital was far enough away from the walls that, on a lighter night, the outside world couldn't be heard. He tried to push away the fear that someone would walk out of a house right now and see him, or that some walker would jump out of nowhere and bite them. Instead, his eyes trained on a lone firefly that was weaving its way through the grass for a moment, and then softly rested his lids closed again.

He was safe, Aaron and Eric would protect him.

Just relax.

-------

The sound of soft murmurs pulled him from his deep slumber. The vivid memory of an angry, red-faced Merle faded into the early morning light as his eyes cracked open. Through the blurriness, he could make out the white popcorn celling above him, as well as this small circle that had tiny bees and butterflies hanging from it. A mobile?He lifted a stiff arm up towards it and reached for a bee, only to find it just out of reach. As he looked towards his raised arm, his eyes were drawn to the sleeves of an outfit that he had apparently been changed into while sleeping. The sleeves were a peachy sort of color, and they had small white dots all over them. Reaching to feel his right sleeve with his left hand, he realized that these clothes were pretty soft as well. Dropping both of his hands and looking around, he realized there were tall, white bars surrounding him.

He faltered, and, shifting his back slightly, realized that he was laying on something much softer than the hospital bed he'd been on just a little while ago. He glanced up at the mobile again.

He was in a crib. He was in a God damn crib. His lips opened as he let out a shaky breath. He managed to twist his body so that he was laying on his side, although he winced uncomfortably as he did so. He looked through the white bars of the crib and realized he was in a room full of babyish designs and patterns. The walls were a light yellow color, and the floor was made out of light grey wooden panels, but it was mostly covered with a carpet that was purple with swirly designs on it. There were a couple bits of furniture and some toys in boxes, but overall it looked like a little's dream paradise. No doubt there had been a little who lived in this house before the apocalypse, before Aaron and Eric had remodeled it. His heart clenched at the thought.

As his eyes glanced around the room, they landed on two pairs of feet, which were standing by a white cabinet. He watched as the feet started walking in his direction, and a second later he lifted his eyes to find Aaron and Eric leaning over the crib's side wall with big smiles.

"Good morning darling," Aaron spoke softly, reaching over the bars to run a soft hand through his hair. He looked up at the man with glazed eyes and blinked slowly in response. Aaron's smile remained as he waited for Eric to lower the bars of the crib before reaching both arms out.

"Did you sleep well?" Eric asked as Daryl looked out at Aaron's inviting arms, and he suddenly remembered the second of the two important things both men had told him the day before in the hospital: That, starting the second they got home, the caregivers were going to make it their mission to get him to slip into headspace as soon as possible. And it seemed like they were sticking true to their promise.

Nodding at last to Eric's question, he remained pliant as Aaron wrapped his arms around him and lifted him up. He was rested against the man's hip, and his ears turned a bit red as he listened to Eric coo at his sleepy expression.

"Come on, let's get you all changed and ready for the day," Eric spoke as he was carried over to a table and set down on something soft. "You know today's gonna be nice and easy, right?"

Daryl knew that was code for 'we are going to flush you with affection until you are so loved you can't think straight.' His ears grew even hotter. "Yeah," he whispered.

He watched as Aaron leaned over him and pulled at the strap and buttons that held his outfit into place, When they were open, the soft onesie was slipped off of him carefully, and he found himself covered with nothing but a diaper and some bandages. God, this was so embarrassing. Aaron reached down towards the straps of the diaper, and he found himself flinching slightly. Apparently it was enough to catch the caregiver's attention, as the man's hands were moved away suddenly, and he felt a soft kissed being placed on his forehead. "It's okay baby, daddy's here," Aaron cooed. "We're gonna take good care of you, I promise. But we need to clean your ouchies and get you into fresh clothes. Can you trust us to do that?" The caregiver softly traced a finger over one of the bandages on Daryl's side, and he found himself biting his lip. All he wanted to do was succumb and let the caregivers take good care of him. But for some reason, it was as if his body was fighting against him every second of the way. Still, he managed a nod. Aaron and Eric had already seen him naked countless times before, and they had taken very good care of him in the hospital. What's to say they wouldn't do the same now?

Aaron smiled at the small nod Daryl gave, and reached back down to the diaper straps. He carefully and slowly pulled them off, maintaining eye contact with Daryl as he did so, to try and let him know all of this was okay. When the diaper was undone, he slipped it off, and switched spots with Eric, who was already holding some wipes and ointments.

Eric rested the stuff down on the side of the table and opened the pack of wipes, grabbing one out. Daryl had to close his eyes as the man reached over to wipe him down. The wipe was cold, and he felt himself pulling away from the touch slightly. But he willed himself to stay put, not wanting to drag out this whole ordeal.

"I know darling," he heard Eric mutter as he was wiped down for a couple more seconds. He breathed a sigh of relief when the coldness pulled away, and cracked open his eyes again to see the caregiver's soft smile. "Almost done," Eric reassured him. "We just have to put the cream for your ouchies and change some bandages, and then we'll get you in some new clothes and down for some yummy food." He nodded as he watched Eric reach for what looked like a lotion bottle, but it had a medication label stuck to it. Eric unclipped the top and squirted some of this white gel-like cream on his hand.

"You ready?" the caregiver asked, and Daryl closed his eyes again. When the cream was applied to his lower parts, it felt oddly...nice? It took the sting away from all of the cuts and red splotches that surrounded his bottom and genitals, and he felt the tight crease in his brow relax as Eric applied it generously. When it was all applied and Eric moved away, he heard a soft chuckle. "Looks like the cream helped," Aaron hummed, and he opened his eyes again to see the man walking back over with baby powder and more padding. "I'll take care of the rest while you wash up real quick," Aaron spoke to Eric before positioning himself next to Daryl's side. For some reason though, hearing the man say that made him stop to think about all that had just happened. It must have been disgusting for Eric to have to wipe down a grown man's private parts. Not to mention, he already knew he looked like sh*t from the waist down; the caregivers wouldn't let him look down at the hospital, which basically meant his injuries looked bad.

Against his will, he felt his eyes grow just a bit glossy. Being stuck between headspaces made it really damn hard to control his emotions, and he was hating it.

As Aaron carefully situated a diaper underneath him and applied some baby powder, he felt his eyes grow even glossier. He felt so ashamed; all he wanted was to be cared for by Aaron and Eric, but his stupid self kept thinking of everything wrong about all of this. That's what happens when you grow up in the Dixon household.

As the orange-starred diaper was taped up securely, Daryl heard Aaron hum softly, a smile on his face. He looked so content that Daryl wondered why he even thought these two perfect human beings could be mad at him. However, the caregiver's smile dropped a bit as his eyes looked into Daryl's glossy ones. "What's wrong sweetheart?" Aaron asked, reaching over to wipe his hands real quick before leaning over to comb through the little's hair. "Was this too much?"

Daryl shook his head because, honestly it wasn't. He loved all the affection the two lovers were giving him. It's just that he was still struggling with the part of himself the felt he wasn't worthy of all the attention. Aaron's brows creased worryingly, and he blinked, allowing a small string of tears to roll off the sides of his face and onto the mat below. "I-I'm sorry," he mumbled, one of his hands coming up to wipe his face quickly. "I d-don't know why I'm actin' like this, but I-It's not too much, I promise." He sniffled as he finished garbling out his explanation, watching as Eric walked over to brush through his hair too.

Aaron hummed again. "I see what's going on," he spoke, his soft frown turning into a sweet smile. "It's just that our little boy isn't used to all this loving, hm? It's okay, because we have more than enough to go around." Hands came up to wipe at Daryl's eyes and he sighed, trying his hardest to calm himself down.

Eric leaned over his other side, holding another tube of ointment and a cotton swab. He watched as the man reached over to carefully grab the edges of a large bandage on his side. He started to pull softly, and Daryl swallowed as he watched, not liking the feeling of his skin pulling apart from the bandage.

Rip!

Jerking slightly, Daryl looked over to see that Eric was now holding the entire used bandage; apparently he had decided to rip it off quickly when Daryl wasn't thinking.

"Sorry baby," Eric laughed a bit, looking at the little's wide-eyed expression. "It hurts less if you just get it over with. Isn't that right Aaron?"

"Mmhm," Aaron agreed in response as he dragged Daryl's attention over to him. Eric was currently applying cream to the wound that was carved into Daryl's side, and they didn't want the little to look at it. Even though it was partly scabbed, partly scarred, it was still possible to make out the word slu*t, and they didn't want Daryl to see it and be set off into another relapse; in the hospital, every time their baby had seen it, he'd started shaking.

Aaron sighed and reached forward to softly tap the bottom row of Daryl's eyelashes on his right eye, making the little blink. He smiled. The tips of Daryl's eye lashes were blonde, and they added to how gorgeous the little was. Aaron would admit that it was true Daryl didn't have the looks of an average little; he was much more muscular and toned. But it was still surprising no one had been able to tell the man had been a little this entire time. His skin was soft, his eyes were full of wonder, and he overall screamed little. And to Aaron and Eric, Daryl's muscular physic and firm attitude just added to how much they adored him. That day in the hospital when Daryl had actually agreed to be their little seemed like an amazing dream. But the fact that Daryl was in front of them right now made him so grateful that they had managed to find someone as great as him.

"Okay, all done," Eric spoke as he finished taping on a new bandage to the wounded area. "I think everything else is fine for now. All that's left is to pick out some comfy clothes."

"Oooo, that's my favorite part!" Aaron laughed as he rubbed his hands together mischievously, trying to get a rouse out of the little. Daryl didn't laugh, but his lips did seem to quirk up a bit, which he took as a victory.

"I picked these out..." Eric muttered vaguely as he walked over to a closet a couple feet away from the changing table and opened it. He pulled out four hangers, all of which had different styles of onesies on it. "We want you to stay nice and cozy today, so I chose some soft stuff," Eric spoke towards Daryl as he walked back over to the table and held up the options.

Instantly, Daryl was beet red again.

All of the items Eric held up where so baby-looking. One had the pattern of a giraffe, as well as a little hood. Another one was dark blue with the words feed me on the front of it. The third one was yellow with little ducks all over it. And the forth one was designed to resemble a panda. They all looked absolutely adorable, which was another way of saying that they would not work well on him.

Daryl's lips pulled into a small pout without him realizing as he scanned over the items. It was surprising how many choices of clothing and items he had, considering it was the apocalypse. However, since it was the apocalypse, there also weren't any littles around to take all of the baby stuff-which was probably why Eric and Aaron could find things so easily. Aaron chuckled, and he realized it was probably because of the scrunched up look on his face. "I promise they aren't that bad," Aaron spoke. "You've already worn one before, these are just different; we found some new clothes to stock up your closet.

Eric held the onesies above Daryl, watching as the little eyed them suspiciously. "Which one do you want darling?" he probed after Daryl showed no particular inclination to any specific outfit. The confused look on the little's face almost made him laugh...until he realized that Daryl was only acting like this because he'd likely never gotten the liberty of being able to chose little clothes before. Especially considering that everything the man wore were clothes meant for neutrals or caregivers. Little clothes were made out of softer and more delicate material, and, until he had been given clothes to wear the first time he dropped, the man never seemed to have worn them.

"Here, do you want me and dada to pick?" Aaron spoke up after a little while, when it looked as if Daryl was starting to get upset at himself for not being able to make up his mind. The little nodded, and Aaron smiled at the fact that he had just referred to himself and Eric as dada and daddy, and Daryl didn't seem that phased by it; it was a strong contrast to the embarrassed look the little would give at the hospital, and also good sign that he was starting to accept them as his caregivers.

"Hmmm, which one should we pick, dada?" Aaron spoke, making a show out of analyzing each choice closely. "You know, I really like the one with all the baby duckies on it," Eric spoke, looking back towards Daryl. "What about you sweetheart? Do you like duckies?"

The soft frown on Daryl's face faded as the little nodded, and Aaron couldn't help but coo at his shyness. "Okay then, one ducky onesie coming up!" Eric handed him the outfit and walked over to put the other ones back while he carefully slid the outfit under Daryl's back, and helped to guide his hands and legs through the holes. When he was done, he carefully buttoned up the front before closing the small velcro strap on top of that. He pulled himself back to a straight up position when he was finished and smiled. "All done."

"One second," Eric said as he made his way back over to where Daryl lay. The little watched as the man pulled out a yellow pacifier attached to a blue clip, and carefully clipped it to the small front pocket on the onesie. "Now we're all done," Eric spoke as he carefully slid his arms under Daryl's sides, lifting him up into his arms.

Daryl felt Eric's arms wrap around him, and for a brief second he was mildly impressed at how easy it seemed to be for the man to pick him up; he wasn't exactly a small little. But then again, he guessed Eric had a lot more muscle than he was showing off. Caregivers always did have a sort of superhuman strength. He softly rested his chin on Eric's shoulder, feeling a small bit of laughter shake the man's frame. He glanced down at the floor, part of him wondering if he could even walk at the moment. Well, he probably could if he tried hard enough. But then again, it would hurt like hell. And, then again, the last time he had felt this dizzy in headspace, he'd been unable to pick himself off of the floor of the garden near the walls. So yeah, maybe it was better that he was being carried.

Eric began to walk slowly, and Daryl watched the scenery change as they all moved out of the room and down the staircase, towards the kitchen. A sweet smell made its way throughout the house as they got closer, and his stomach betrayed him by letting out a small growl. He heard Eric and Aaron laugh again. "Looks like someone's hungry," Eric noted, and he felt his face burn again. As the kitchen table came into view, Daryl saw a plate of steaming pancakes resting on the center of it, and he lifted his chin off of Eric's shoulder, eyes widening a bit. He hadn't had pancakes in years; long before the apocalypse even started. After coming to Alexandria and settling down, Carol and many of the others had gotten back into baking and cooking, and would use the ingredients around to bake things like cookies and muffins every once in a while. Carol was a big fan of waffles, and she often brought some to the large breakfast gatherings. He had eaten those a couple of times, but he had yet to have a pancake. And those were his favorite. He adored their fluffiness, and the sweet taste of them. As a kid, if he was lucky, Merle would grab a box of frozen ones from the nearby convenience store. He'd also learnt how to make them at some point, although it had been ages, and he'd long forgotten the recipe.

On Eric and Aaron's dark wood table lay the stack of pancakes, some plain, some with blueberries inside, and some with chocolate chips. He felt his mouth start to water a bit as he looked at them. Damn, he was hungry. But as Eric carried him by the table, he couldn't help but feel a bit of guilt twinge in his gut. He always felt bad when people made food for him; in the apocalypse food could go scarce very quickly, and he didn't want to waste any of the limited ingredients on himself. Even after discovering Alexandria and the kingdom, and everyone finding ways to grow their food supply greatly, he still never felt great. He preferred to eat things that he hunted himself or grew from the farm; like in the prison days, when baking sweets and large meals sounded like a fantasy.

Eric stopped walking a little past the dining table, and Daryl heard a small click before he was being shifted around in the man's arms. His eyes moved from the stack of pancakes, to see that he was being placed in a large white and yellow highchair. His eyebrows twisted upwards confusingly, and he let out some sort of squeak as Eric was quick to strap something around his waist before pulling the white table in front of him, locking it into place.

"What?" was all he could say as Eric pulled back and he found himself dangling his legs from the seat of the chair. His hands came up to push against the table locked in front of him experimentally, and he realized that it couldn't be moved. He tried lifting it and it didn't budge either. "It's not goin' to move darling," he heard Aaron coo as he came up to rub a hand through his hair. "It's meant to keep wiggly little boys like you from falling." Daryl stared at Aaron's docile expression for a moment before an embarrassed whine made its way up his throat uncontrollably. He pulled his hands to cover his face, knowing very well that he was as red as a tomato right now. He was aware that the caregivers where treating him like this so that he'd hopefully be able to slip. But the process of doing so was very embarrassing. "I don't like it," he murmured, mostly to himself, but Eric and Aaron must've heard it because they were both giggling like giddy teenagers again. "Maybe not yet," Eric agreed. "But the chair is very practical and comfy. And you look so adorable."

The noise of hard plastic being placed in front of him drew his hands from his face. The small white table in front of him now had a napkin and a plastic children's fork and plate on it. As his eyes glossed over the fishy pattern on the plate, a large pancake was dropped on it. "We'll start with one for now and see how much you can eat," Aaron spoke as he pulled out what looked to be a butter knife and began to cut the pancake into smaller pieces. "It would be great if you could have at least two, but we know it's been a while since you've eaten any good food." Eric hummed in agreement-apparently he had left Daryl's side without him knowing-as he walked back over and placed something else on the table. He wanted to run away just by looking at it. "Fresh, homemade apple juice for my favorite little guy," Eric chirped, and Daryl tried to resist the urge to swipe the humiliating blue sippy cup off of the table. He knew this whole situation was going to be embarrassing for him, and that he should stop being surprised by every little thing Aaron and Eric showed him...but he couldn't help it!

A piece of pancake was pushed to his lips and he gave an embarrassed glare towards a cheeky-faced Aaron as he opened his mouth to accept the food. However, his glower immediately dissipated as he bit down on the soft, warm chocolate pancake, feeling the sweet flavor reach his tastebuds. sh*t. He'd never had pancakes like this. The one's he'd had or made were always either too chewy, cold in the center, or burnt around the edges. This pancake however, had none of that. It was just the right amount of sweet, fluffy, and warm, and as he chewed on it slowly, he felt like he was in heaven.

"Looks like he likes 'em dada," Aaron joked as he gave Daryl a sweet smile. "Am I right darling? Are they good?" Daryl nodded in response, all humiliation leaving his body for the moment as he opened his mouth to accept another bite. This one had a lot of chocolate chips in it, and he gobbled it down pretty fast. However, is brief moment of peace didn't last long. He felt himself start to get emotional as Aaron offered him yet another bite, watching as Eric came over with another plate of pancakes, offering a bite to Aaron. These caregivers-his caregivers-were taking such good care of him, and he didn't feel like he deserved it. They were such naturals at making someone feel loved and appreciated, and he couldn't even express how grateful he felt right now.

"Wow, I knew my cooking was good, but It's never brought someone to tears before!" Eric remarked as he reached over to wipe one of the small tears that had began to roll down Daryl's face. The little looked like he was enjoying himself, but the way his lip quivered as he quietly chewed on the pancake made Eric's heart clench. "What is it baby?" he asked again after a moment, starting to get a bit worried that Daryl was tearing up. "You wanna get out of the chair? Is this too much right now?"

Daryl shook his head no in response and swallowed the bite of food he had in his mouth. Aaron didn't give him another one right away, probably to give him some room to speak. "Then what is it darling? Something hurt? Maybe your tummy?" He shook his head no again in response, clearing his throat softly as he struggled to stop his emotions from spiraling before he really did start bawling again. He sniffled. "I-I don't even know why m' sad" he began, feeling his voice quiver. He couldn't find the right ways to word why he was feeling upset-he wasn't even sure if he could classify this emotion he was feeling right now as being upset. More like over-loved. "...You guys are s-so nice."

He wasn't exactly sure what he had just said, but Aaron and Eric seemed to get the idea after a second, as their faces brightened up with sympathetic smiles. Aaron leaned forward, pushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear as he did so. "Are you saying that you got sad because me and dada were being so nice and loving?" Daryl thought on that for a moment before nodding. The caregiver had summed it up perfectly; it just showed how special both men were. "You're so nice 'an sweet," he sniffled. "But 'm not. You deserve a real little." He felt the waterworks start flowing a bit stronger, reaching a hand up to wipe his eyes. He hated how much he had been crying recently; it left his eyes puffy, and made him extra sleepy.

Damn, why was he even thinking in such childish terms?

"Daryl, I thought we already told you," Eric softly chided, and Aaron leaned forward to click something on the side of the chair. Suddenly the white table was swung carefully to the side, and two arms grabbed under his armpits. He was raised up and pressed into a warm chest, one which he recognized to be Aaron's due to the strong muscles he could feel tense a bit under the clothing. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to us." He glanced toward Eric, sure that his face displayed how much he didn't believe him, but the man continued. "You know, the first day you and your group came into town," Eric began, "me and Aaron were already so fascinated with you."

"Mhm," Aaron agreed, softly bouncing Daryl in his arms as he walked over to take a seat at the dining table. "From the minute I'd met you in the woods, I had been so intrigued with how strong and protective you were of your members...but also how small you were on the inside." Aaron absentmindedly grabbed one of Daryl's hands to softly rub, and instantly the little was reminded of the time when Aaron had mentioned seeing him burn his hand with a cigar. He sniffled, eyes lifting up to Aaron's face, feeling the man give him a peck on the cheek when he noticed him looking.

"You see, along the time you all came along, me and Aaron had basically formed our own little bubble apart form the rest of the people here," Eric continued. "I mean, we liked them and all, but we weren't exactly close with many. And after giving up on ever finding a little of our own, we had found ways to be relaxed just with each other, and with occasionally helpin' out with the other littles around here."

"But when your group came, we started to open up to more people again," Aaron spoke. "We got close with Rick and Michonne, and Glenn, and them all." Aaron wrapped his arms around Daryl just a bit tighter, and the archer could feel the soft thumping of the man's heart.

"But the best person we met was you, Daryl."

"Sure, you may have started off kinda reserved and stiff," Eric admitted, "But you were always there for your family. And even though many of you all didn't seem to trust the other people here in the beginning, you always seemed to be okay with us." Aaron nodded. "Yeah, and after you started to come eat dinner with us, and work on jobs with us more often, we started to realize exactly how much you meant to us. You are our best friend Daryl, and we considered you the closest of family from the beginning."

"And, y'know, when I saw you asleep on the porch of that house you all shared one night, suckin' your thumb-even though I didn't know for sure yet- you being a little just suddenly made so much sense. And since the moment your true classification was shared, me and Eric wanted you to be ours so badly. You were already like family to us, and we really wanted to care for you, even though we both expected it wouldn't be easy."

Aaron pulled Daryl even tighter in his grasp, as he could feel the little going stiff out of shock. "We love you so much Daryl. You have no idea how lucky we are to have met you."

"And you are the sweetest little we've ever met," Eric added on. "You're always looking out for others, and try so hard to be good. We must've hit the jackpot when finding you; in this apocalypse, you are a miracle."

"S-stop," Aaron heard Daryl stutter as he softly shifted the little in his arms so he could see his face. It was deep red and covered in tears. But the tears didn't seem to be out of pain or sorrow. "Do you understand now? Do you understand how special and amazing you are?" He heard a small whine slip through Daryl's throat, but the little didn't deny any of Aaron's questions, so he was pleased. "S-stop makin' me cry, my eyes hurt," Daryl complained softly, and Aaron couldn't help but let out a soft coo, his body turning to mush. Eric seemed to have a similar reaction, as the man knelt by where they were seated and wrapped his arms around the two of them. One small, happy family.

"How about you sit on daddy's lap while we finish eating brunch? And then we can relax or play a game, and then take a little nap?" spoke up Aaron after a little, pressing a tissue Eric had handed him to Daryl's eyes. Daryl sniffled and nodded in response, and he couldn't help but smile. The little was definitely more at ease now that he and Eric had explained to him just how special they thought he was. And that's what they would continue to do; they would continue to give Daryl all the loving he needed.

----
2 hours later

"Oh no! Not again!"

Daryl watched from his spot on the floor, leaning against the living room couch, as Aaron yelled out in pretend annoyance. The large toy car tower that both of the caregivers had previously been forming, had crumbled to the floor again, leaving the grey carpet they all sat on covered in various car models. He smiled softly as Aaron stuck out his bottom lip, obviously pretending to be upset, only to have the frown fade back into happiness as the man twisted his head in his direction. Eric placed down one of the cars he was holding and carefully scooted over past Aaron to sit on his right. "Are you having fun darling? You sure you don't wanna play too?"

Daryl nodded. In all honesty, the cars did look fun to play with. However, when the caregivers had brought out all the toys earlier, he'd been to overwhelmed to really grab anything. And he still didn't know how he felt about messing around with them now. But watching Aaron and Eric mess around with them instead was oddly entertaining. So much so that he'd caught himself starting to giggle a couple of times while observing them.

Eric just nodded his head in response, and Daryl was grateful for him and Aaron not forcing him to partake in whatever car-stacking game they were messing around with; it was like they understood why he wasn't playing, and they weren't prodding him about it. Thank goodness.

"Here," Eric spoke as he reached over him and grabbed the sippy cup that had been resting at his other side. "Take a couple more sips, there's still come juice left. You need to stay hydrated," the man spoke, placing the cup in his hands and making sure his fingers were properly curled around the handles before letting go. Daryl squirmed a bit, but made no verbal complaint as he lifted the sippy to his mouth, biting down on the chewy plastic nipple and sucking some of the sweet apple juice out. Eric smiled sweetly at him as he did so, and it was obvious as to why. Just an hour or so ago, he'd nearly had another freak out about having to drink from the damned cup. And here he was now, calmly quenching his thirst. What he had thought would be super humiliating and gross to drink out of, turned out to be more soothing than degrading.

He watched as Eric moved from his side to shuffle back over to Aaron, who was so engrossed in stacking the cars for a moment, that he hadn't realized Eric come up next to him and roll his own car towards the tower until it was too late and the stack was toppling over again. Don't ask him why they were stacking cars instead of pushing them around, because he honestly didn't know.

Aaron twisted to look at Eric "Hey, what gives? It was a perfect stack!" Eric simply laughed in response, obviously not feeling the tiniest bit of remorse as he leaned towards his husband, planting a soft kiss on the man's downturned lips. "Since when were you so childish?" he joked. "Since when were you a tower-wrecker?" Aaron countered, before leaning forward to tackle Eric into a sort of bear hug. Both men laughed, and Daryl watched from his spot on the floor, a warm feeling bubbling in his chest as he observed how happy they both were. It was nice.

The now empty sippy cup slid out of his mouth as a small smile replaced it. He liked it when Aaron and Eric laughed. And before he knew it, he was letting out a small giggle of his own too. Or at least, giggle is the best way to describe the quiet sound that left his mouth for no more than a second before he slapped his hand over his lips. He watched the caregivers continue to play-wrestle, obviously having heard the little slip up he'd just made. It was obvious that he was letting his guard down. And he also knew that that was kind of what he was supposed to be doing. But for someone like him, the job wasn't that easy.

At last he managed to calm himself down and remove the hand that was plastered over his mouth. At around the same time, Eric and Aaron wrapped up their cuddling battle, and both scooched back over to his sides. "You're so cute, you know that?" Aaron cooed, reaching over to carefully poke at one of his cheeks, and Daryl's small smile came back as he pulled away, only to be pulled onto Eric's lap. "That's right," the smaller caregiver confirmed. "Our little boy is the cutest." Luckily, Eric pulled his face into his chest before both men could see how red his faced turned. At this point, he felt as if his skin tone was permanently stained a pinkish color due to all this damn blushing.

Still, being next to both of his caregivers was nice, and he felt himself leaning into Eric's hold and closing his eyes.

"How about we all go get a bite to eat, and then we lay you down for a small nap? Hm baby boy?" Aaron asked from somewhere nearby. He nodded, feeling comfortable in doing whatever Aaron and Eric wanted him to do. Afterall, food sounded nice. And since waking up in the hospital, he'd been getting tired a lot quicker than normal. Maybe it was because all of his injuries needed energy to heal. Maybe it was because he was falling closer and closer into his young headspace. Maybe it was both, he didn't know.

Eric hummed his approval, and Daryl felt the man's hand rub soft circles on his bandaged back. He let himself relax deeper. This felt nice.

Knock. Knock.

Daryl flinched at the sound of two tentative knocks hitting the main door. His brief moment of serenity was dissolved, and he suddenly remembered that there was a whole town full of people outside of Aaron and Eric that were probably eager to get their nose up in what exactly had happened. However, instead of sounding confused, Daryl heard Eric simply hum and continue to rock him slowly back and forth. "Don't worry darling, It's probably just Siddiq or Rick; everyone knows not to come bothering for a little while until we can get you all settled."

Rick?

Daryl willed himself to pull his head out from Eric's chest, instead watching Aaron as the man stood up and walked towards the house door. The entrance was fairly close to the living room, just blocked by a small wall, so he could clearly hear the sounds of Aaron unclipping the laches and pulling the door open. He heard a faint hello, and then the sounds of quiet muttering before Aaron was suddenly walking back towards the living room with a bag in his hand. "Looks like Siddiq got us some more medication, and some sweet treats as well," the man hummed as he sat the blue gift bag next to where him and Eric sat. "Ooo, sweet treats?" Eric prodded, the hand that wasn't wrapped around Daryl slipping into the bag. A moment later, the caregiver pulled out a plastic bag full of what looked to be chocolate chip cookies.

"Don't these look good darling?" Eric questioned, showing them to Daryl who nodded softly. Truth be told he wasn't a big fan of cookies in general. But these looked like they were made specially by Carol, and her cookies were always delicious. "They sure do," Aaron agreed. "We'll have some after we get a little food in our bellies," the man joked, kneelling down to be eye level with him. "But first, would it be okay if someone comes in to see you? He's been waiting a while. Maybe he could eat with us too?"

"He?" Daryl asked shyly, his mind wracking with thoughts on who it could be. Aaron had said the bag he'd just brought was from Siddiq, so maybe the man wanted to come visit? Truth be told, he was still much to embarrassed to speak with basically everyone in the town beside Aaron and Eric; even his closest friends seemed too much of a struggle to talk to right now.

But there was one person he wanted to see, one whom he'd formed the closest bond with.

"It's Rick darling? Is it okay if he comes in to say hello?"

Ah, so it is him.

He felt his stomach churn as he glanced in the direction of the house's entrance, hearing the distant sounds of birds chirping and people chattering through the open door. He swallowed and took a deep breath before nodding. It was Rick. He wouldn't make fun of him or freak him out. It was Rick.

He watched as a large smile came across Aaron's face before the man leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek, muttering a small "brave boy," as he did so. "You can come in, Rick!" the caregiver yelled, and Daryl listened to the sound of tentative footsteps on the hard wood floor, followed by the sound of the door being carefully closed and shoes being slid off.

"Thank you so much for bringin' me in," he heard the familiar soft voice of the sheriff speak as the man made his way past the thin wall and towards the living room. However, Rick's footsteps came to a slow stop when he and Daryl made eye contact. A small relieved and wide-eyed expression grew on the man's face for a moment or two, before it was replaced with a teary smile.

"Hey, Daryl."

He bit down on his lip, feeling it start to tremble under the man's sweet gaze.

Oh great. He was crying again.