dadyl | 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 ;

[ Daryl tries to imitate Gabe's breathing, which is soft and controlled while his own is still shaking and unsteady. The dark still seems like a black hood but the room smells like Gabe and Dog and warm, sleep-soft bodies and he's dry. Safe.

It's the fingers in his hair that finally make him sigh and it comes out smooth, like a release. He nods against Gabe's forehead, slow and measured, and then he rubs the hand pressed to Gabe's chest in a slow, grateful circle. He's speechless for another long moment as he's hit with how glad he is that Gabe is with him. ]

Mhm.

[ His pulse is still jumping but he no longer feels the desperate need to punch something and run. He bites down on his lip, a wash of shame following up his moment of relief and affection. ]

Did I scare you?

No.

[ He keeps his voice low, and steady. Keeps running his fingers through Daryl's hair. It settles both of them, he thinks. Something tactile, something that's only ever been kind between them. ]

Startled me a bit, but we're okay.

[ It's not the first time he's woken up next to someone fighting with a nightmare. Won't be the last, either. ]

[ Daryl makes a soft sound in his throat because it's that nice just to be touched, to be gentled like he's a horse that's just reared and needs to be quieted. He hates that he woke Gabe up, that he's had to see him this way once again, but Daryl knows they've both seen and dealt with worse. Not that it helps his pride in the moment. ]

Dreamt I couldn't breathe.

[ He says by way of quiet admission. Or maybe he's just making an excuse for why he'd woken up gasping so hard. But he doesn't want to tell Gabe the rest of it. ]

Think I'm okay now. S'what I get for fallin' asleep, I guess. [ And he can't keep the bitter exhaustion out of his voice. ]

Not your fault, man.

[ It's really not. These things just catch people. It's the collective toll, Gabe things. It stacks, and stacks, and eventually something has to give or you break under the strain.

Gabe exhales, cupping his hand to the back of Daryl's neck. He squeezes briefly before he goes back to running his fingers through Daryl's hair. ]

You wanna lie back down, or you too wired?

[ Daryl is always prone to feeling like things are his fault, but even he knows he can't hold himself responsible for dreams. Or how he wakes up out of them. ]

Yeah. Yeah, 'm okay.

[ But when Gabe starts to ease back down to the bed again, Daryl doesn't lie on his back the way he usually does when they sleep together. This time he turns onto his side and tucks himself against Gabe's body, head resting on his chest. He likes the way Gabe plays with his head and he wants to tell him so, wants to ask him to continue without actually saying it.

He slings an arm over his belly and sighs. His broad shoulders are hunched a little but he's comfortable nonetheless. ]

Okay. I might still be a little wired.

[ Gabe hums, and keeps running his fingers through Daryl's hair. Rubbing at the pressure points in his neck, skull. Old tricks he learned to release tension, to ease pain. It's something to focus on, something tactile and gentle. It helps him, in the bad moments. Gives him an anchor to hang onto when the ground feels unsteady beneath his feet. ]

I won't ask if you don't want me to. Okay?

[ A low sound starts up in Daryl's chest, a rumble of pleasure at the way Gabe is finding all the right places to pay attention to on his head, and soon he really does feel okay. And he knows that without this, without being held like this, it would have taken him hours to calm down properly. ]

It's okay. No point talkin' 'bout it. It was just a dream.

[ The details of which are already fading, even though Daryl can still feel the broad strokes of it. He recognized the dread in it. ]

But I don't get ones like that one often.

[ He never really has. When Daryl sleeps, it's just to recover enough to keep moving. Keep working. He's managed to outrun bad dreams for a very long time. ]

No?

[ He keeps his voice soft. No edges right now. Not in the aftermath. Prior used to shake and pace after the bad nightmares. Missy got snippy and brutal. Eli and the twins would cry. Gray would reach out to touch people, initiate it, and he never would otherwise. Everyone carries it differently. But there's always an aftermath, isn't there?

There's always something that catches you.

He keeps rubbing Daryl's head. Steady, gentle pressure. He rubs his thumb along the shell of Daryl's ear and then tugs gently on the lobe. There's a pressure point there. He's always had tricks. It helps to have something to do now, in this aftermath. ]

I get them sometimes. The bad ones, I mean. They twist me up.

[ For the moment, for just right then, everything is exactly how he wants it. Daryl realizes with a sudden warm, dizzying feeling that he's never felt like this before. So cared for, so cradled. So comfortable trusting someone to touch him like this. The way Gabe is caressing his ear makes Daryl sigh against his chest and something shudders in his mind and heart, something that's always craved the attention he's getting now but has never known how to ask for it.

He closes his eyes, rolls his face into the shirt he recognizes as his own to hide the fact that a rogue tear has sprung to life in one eye. ]

Got that to look forward to now, then.

[ It's a quiet moment, this aftermath. It ought to be, Gabe thinks. Something gentle in the wake of whatever caught Daryl while he was dreaming. Something always does, in the end. You don't survive this life without enduring a few horrors - without carrying them like scars. And they both have more than their share of those.

He keeps it up, rubbing Daryl's head and holding him close. Steadying his own breathing. ]

Mhmm. That's the life, huh?

[ He smoothes his free hand down Daryl's back. ]

I got you.

𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 ;

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