Anonymous asked: For the ship mini fic, how about Darus and number 8?

Darsus, 8: things you said when you were crying.

“You’re bleeding!” Jesus was at Daryl’s side in a moment, shoulder immediately going under Daryl’s arm. Daryl breathed a sigh of relief and sank against the other man, thankful for the support. Around them, people were slowly milling back together; some went straight to the infirmary, some to their own houses and families, and most around Maggie.

Losing Glenn like they did was not a wound that would be healed with gauze and antibiotics. They’d be scarred. For a long, long time. Probably longer than they ever had been or ever will be, and the fact that Jesus was using careful and deft fingers to search Daryl over for injuries made the archer sick to his stomach.

He yanked away suddenly, breathing heavy. Images of barbed wire and screams and a man in a leather suit flashed before him until he was practically collapsing on the asphalt. Jesus caught him, though, and before he knew it they were stumbling into Jesus’ temporary housing. Jesus carefully sat him against a wall and crouched in front of him, combing his hair out of his face until his breathing returned to normal.

When he looked up, Jesus was crying.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” Daryl managed to choke out, the first words he spoke since screaming Glenn’s name until his throat bled and went red.

“I hate seeing you like this,” Jesus whispered, fingers still tracing Daryl’s face. A red hot, boiling anger filled Daryl’s bloodstream.

“I’m fine!” Daryl spat. “Glenn’s the one who’s dead! Maggie’s the one who’s alone, really, truly alone! Who the fuck cares about me right now!”

Jesus lurched to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides. “I do. I do because I care about you, dammit. What happened is possibly the worst thing that ever could, but that doesn’t mean I can’t care about you!” The words were caught in his throat by tears that were streaming down his face.

Daryl sucked in a breath, torn between kissing Jesus and punching him in the face. In the end, he settled for neither, because he was exhausted and couldn’t imagine moving from leaning against the wall ever. Jesus calmed down above him, his muscles loosening and his shoulders slouching, but the tears still flowed.

“Someone has to take care of you,” The scout whispered, sitting back down, this time next to Daryl. Daryl immediately laid his head on the other man’s shoulder, and was all but asleep when Jesus said: “I’m more than happy to be the one to do so.”