Chapter Text
Daryl could feel the hard outline of Rick against his back. The man’s chin was almost resting on his shoulder. The rough stubble on his chin slightly brushing against the side of his face. Daryl shivered as Rick’s hands cupped his and adjusted his hold on the gun.
“I know you’re a hunter, Daryl, and you’re used to some slight backlash from your crossbow, but if you hold the gun like that, you’ll break your wrist. That sure as hell will be the last thing we need during a run in with a bunch of walkers.” Rick said firmly, his hot breath tickling Daryl’s neck.
Daryl shuffled from side to side and cleared his throat in embarrassment, “Yeah, yeah, that makes sense. Show me?”
Rick’s hands slid back over Daryl’s large ones, realigning the gun into the correct position, “Make sure your feet are firmly on the ground, okay? You need a firm stance an’ a good grip on your weapon.” Rick explained. He placed his hands on Daryl’s waist to steady him, but instead of doing the intended, it made the younger man jump a little, sliding forward.
“S-sorry, I didn’t mean- “ Daryl stuttered, head down.
“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry.” Rick interrupted, clearly embarrassed.
Daryl looked up at Rick through his hair, and the older man caught his glance, staring straight into his piercing blue eyes and not letting go.
Rick coughed a good thirty seconds later breaking them out of their trance, “You ready to give it a shot?”
“Yeah, yeah, I think I can do it.” Daryl said as his heart started to speed up. He wasn’t too keen on holding a gun when he could use his crossbow, but it’s good to learn just in case he ever needs to use one. Rick just nodded and pulled away from Daryl completely.
The older of the two had an encouraging smile on his face, nodding his head. “I’m sure you’ll be a natural, Daryl. Y’ already got a perfect aim with your bow.” He said.
Daryl physically bit his tongue to stop himself grinning to wickedly at Rick’s compliment. He shook it out of his system and focused entirely on taking the shot. He had the target set right in front of him: an empty tin can.
He took a deep breath and made sure he was holding the gun correctly, and that he was in the correct position before even considering taking the shot.
He breathed in and out slowly, blocking out all of the background noise - the murmuring of the walkers behind the fences, the wind making the inner fences rattle, Rick. Everything.
He breathed out and squeezed the trigger.