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"What's it stand for?" He asks softly runnin' his fingers over it.
"Daryl Grimes." I say. And I'm actually sweating, knot growing in my stomach the size of Georgia, catching a case of Classic Dixon myself cause this man is gentle but fierce, naive but wise, sensitive but manly and I don't know which parts of him will respond to what I'm asking.
I need him to know how serious I am and this is the only way I know how. Old world ways. 'I do's' and 'til death do we part's' and becoming one.
His eyes are still on my gift, fingers still tracing the letters.
"Need you to know how committed I am. You probably think it's silly, stupid. I know it's stupid. But you're not really a Dixon anymore anyway. Never were. You were never the person you think of when you hear the name Dixon. I want you to have my name. With me. And with our kids. Ours."
I'm well aware I'm babbling and thanking god there will never be cocktail parties to attend in the apocalypse where everyone wants to hear stories about how I proposed. Gave him a used arrowhead, told him it was stupid, told him my last name was better than his and asked him to parent my children.
"Good news is it's legal in the state of Georgia now," I laugh nervously.
He's not looking up and I know him. He's either trying to figure out how to say no, or he's crying because he's going to say yes. And I want to be my normal confident self, and believe the later.
"Daryl, will you marry me?" I whisper and I'm a million times more terrified than when I said it to Lori 15 years ago. Cause if he doesn't say yes I will literally die. And also, I may puke while I’m waiting for my answer.
Finally he looks up at me and his eyes are glassy, I can see instantly in them that he will give me whatever I want. I know this. I've always known this.
"Thought you were gonna dump me, man." he says softly.
"What? Why?"
He rolls his eyes at himself as he hears the answer in his own head. "All the reasons you said. Eating dinner alone last night and breakfast alone and also for that fucking forehead kiss"
“You thought I was gonna dump you because I kissed you?”
“On the forehead, Rick. Like Carol does. That’s for friends. What was wrong with my lips?”
“Jesus, nothing’s wrong with your lips,” I whisper. “Or your forehead. Or any part of you. When you have a thing you can kiss wherever you want. Now are you going to answer my question or what? I want more than a thing. I want everything.”
“Yah, man.” He said shyly. Nervous. I could tell the manly part of him was trying to be as testosterony as possible with all his well-placed “man’s”. And he whispers, “A’ Course. I love you.”
I feel like I just heard my winning lotto numbers read on the evening news. I practically attack him with kisses, first on his mouth and then all over his forehead just to be an ass. He laughs as I’m doing it and Jesus I love his laugh. It’s like fresh air and warm sun and pure joy.
“So… like what does this mean? We both have special rocks in our pockets and we file joint taxes and I go to the DMV to change my name?” Daryl asks grinning.
“It means, that if we DO ever meet new people in this world you introduce yourself as Daryl Grimes. It means that if Axel refers to you as my husband, you don’t punch him,”
“What if he refers to me as your wife?” Daryl interrupts.
I giggle. Still an unfamiliar sound to my own ears. Never giggled before the apocalypse, before Daryl.
“THEN you can punch him,” and I continue so we are perfectly clear. “It means that I can kiss you anywhere I want and the only thing it will mean is that I love you. Even if it’s on your ankle or your elbow. And it means y’know, sickness and health and death do us part and forsaking all others and y’know all that.”
“Are you gonna like… go tell everyone and shit?” he asks me with the cutest grin that I know means he WANTS me to tell everyone.
“Fuck yah.” I answer, having all my confidence back because HE SAID YES!
“You wanna share this Butterscotch Krimpet with me?” he asks picking up the package that was laying on the floor. “It can be like our wedding cake,” he says. He is so funny. I laugh and he always looks so happy when he makes me laugh. He opens the cake and breaks it in half and hands me my part and is apparently serious about the ceremony because he starts to feed me his part and opens his mouth like a baby bird for the half I’m holding. Oh my God, I love this man so much. Neither of us smash anything and both of us licked and sucked on fingers until all the cake was gone.
“That was fun.” Daryl says. “Let’s eat more things like that.” I burst out laughing.
“Oh my God, I LOVE YOU DARYL GRIMES,” I shout cause I literally can’t contain it. I feel drunk on Daryl.
“Shut up, man. You’re gonna draw walkers.” He says trying to be serious but smiling ear to ear.
“How’s it sound?” I ask him. “Daryl Grimes?”
“Like it,” he says and I can tell his cheeks must be hurting from smiling for so long because he has NOT stopped. “Gonna get Carol to stitch it on a shirt for me,” he says and I really don’t know if he’s serious or kidding but I just love him.
“Gonna make myself a name tag and wear it around the prison,” he says. I can’t stop laughing. And he’s still not done. “Gonna make all these damn kids here call me Mr. Grimes.” And now we are laying next to each other and he’s looking up at the stars while I’m looking at the reflection of them in his eyes. “Gonna get those stickers for the back of the SUV that has stick figures of two dudes and little boy and a baby.”
His eyes meet mine and our laughter finally dies down. “Daryl please don’t ever forget for a second how much I love you, ok?”
“K,” he says.
“Don’t ever bail on breakfast again unless you have a reason and tell me what it is.”
“K,” I say.
And I hear Carol’s voice from below us. “What’s all the racket up there?” I jump up and look over the rail. Everyone one was down there, Hershel, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, Carl with Judith in his arms, everyone. I glance over at the fences to make sure I can yell back without causing too much trouble. Gotta remember I’m in the damn apocalypse. “He said YES!” I yell feeling like an absolute idiot and not caring a single bit.
“Dude, dial it down a notch,” Daryl says from behind me, being bashful
and still sitting on the floor. “You’re making us sound so gay,” he says and I hear all the excitement and shouts of congratulations below
us.
“No more calling me dude or man,” I pout.
“What do I call you? Honey?”
“Or darlin’ or baby or looover…” I giggle as he stands up and kisses me quiet.
“Let’s see if someone else will take watch while we attend our reception,” he says and he climbs down first like he's so ready to put his feet down on this earth as Daryl Grimes.