#u don't get the queue treatment bb

[ripgray-moved]

     peter doesn't expect daryl to touch him. it shows in the fast little blink the motion earns, eyes flickering briefly to the fingers that hold him still before they flit back up to his face. wide and innocent.

      in truth, he isn't truly sure what it means to be strong yet. daryl says he is with such sincerity that peter doesn't feel comfortable disagreeing with him, and yet it doesn't yet feel wholly satisfying to receive the compliment right now. there're still strides for him to make, even if he doesn't yet know which they are.

     though it does feel nice to know that daryl thinks he's worth his salt.

     ❛ thanks, ❜ peter utters very belatedly, a flush fuelling his cheeks red. thank god for the night.  ❛ y-yeah, let's go...! ❜

     it's far from convenient to travel at night, but it isn't as if they have much choice with such an insane group of people on their tail. careful but swift, the duo weave through trees and kick up as few leaves as possible. at one point, peter catches his boot in an upturned root, and both am and daryl catch an arm each. peter gets a bad case of the giggles for the next five minutes.

     as they breach the treeline and find themselves beside the river once more, it becomes a lot easier to see. the moonlight guides their way as if they travel a destined path, the pale yellow light reflecting off of the river's muddy surface.

     no rick, but lots and lots of serenity and a crystal clear view of the neighbouring woods.

     ❛ y'know, i've been thinking. ❜ a couple of hours have passed since the fight, and it doesn't appear as if any more of them are coming tonight ( or if they are, they're well and truly lost ).  ❛ about that whole thing, i mean. when we fought them earlier, i felt something i haven't before. it felt like... i dunno how to explain it? like am and i, we were perfectly— in sync? connected? i've never felt that... synergy before. like we were two parts of a whole. ❜ he looks to daryl with an almost sheepish look, though there's undeniable excitement there too.  ❛ this is gonna sound crazy but, it was like i could... like we could— talk? without talking. like, in the mind? it doesn't make much sense and i know i'm explaining this terribly but... i'm excited. i've read about this. all the accounts say that those who strike deep bonds with their sceptres and earn their respect become infused with magic themselves. they don't need their sceptres to perform spells, they can just use their hands. like the higher-ups in the cult do. obviously i'm nowhere near that yet but— i don't know, tonight was the first time where i really thought i could be one day? in a serious context, i mean. ❜

     though he'll most likely always carry am ( he's grown fond of him at this point in spite of his sharp attitude ), it'd certainly be handy for him to not have to lean on him quite so heavily. that way if they're separated during fights, it isn't going to hinder him nearly as much. he might not die.

     ❛ oh hey. ❜ peter pauses, a hand sticking out to rest on daryl's arm. his free one points out what can only be described as a leafy cove a short distance away. there lies a small cluster of trees that have grown very close together, and though the fall claims their leaves gradually, their branches overlap so heavily that ample covering remains. ❛ maybe we should set up here for the night? try and get at least a little shut-eye? ❜

     it's early morning already, approaching two, but the good thing about fall is that first light is inevitably later too. they have time to squeeze in a little rest if they're tactical about it.

he's perfectly content to allow peter a few minutes to rest. as his partner moves to clean up his staff, wiping it off with a dead cultist's clothing, daryl makes it his mission to closely observe their surroundings. sharp eyes cut through the darkness of the night, gaze flickering between the trees; they may have successfully taken out a group of their pursuers, but with as much as the cult has been changing things up lately, he's well aware that there could be more on the way. maybe their newest tactic will be to try and overwhelm the two of them in waves— they can never be too sure of their safety out here anymore.

it's the way that peter reacts to his words of affirmation that pulls daryl's attention back to him rather than the dark woods around them. he's glad for how his companion seems to perk up with the praise— even if he does give his scepter all of the credit when he's certainly due a great deal of his own. daryl can't help his small but honest smile, either way.

it pleases him to no end that his companion feels more confident in his abilities and in the position of slight power they've worked up to. though it's been so long, daryl still recalls vividly that day at the library and how close he came to being completely devoured by the dead. how peter had given in to his instinct to run away before returning to save him, and how it all resulted in a blowout fight between them. the way his partner confronts these challenges is nothing like that anymore; he's calm, he's fast and capable, and he's proven that he can stand at daryl's side through any fight.

it doesn't bother him, really, that peter has not done any of the killing before now. what his partner lacks in blood, he makes up for in fiercely loyal support— they're like a well-oiled machine on the battlefield, and there's no reason for daryl to try and mess with a good thing if what they have is working. it seems, however, that peter has unlocked something inside of himself.

because he's right: they are just people. they can be hurt, and they can be killed. eradicated once and for all. peter's suffering can end without his life ending, too.

but before he can congratulate pete on his progress and roll into a further conversation regarding their combat, his companion offers his own kind words. they still daryl's mouth, his voice dying before it ever reaches his throat. this is a sudden sweetness, a show of gratefulness that he's not sure what to do with.

when it comes to the people he holds dear, daryl's loyalty and protection is a given. it never needs to be addressed, and he never needs to be thanked for it. when he thinks for a long moment and isn't able to come up with anything that would even come close to touching such a tender sentiment, he simply holds the compliment in his heart instead.

i'm lucky to have you, too.

daryl doesn't move as he approaches. doesn't flinch like he might have months ago as peter's fabric-covered hand rises to his cheek. he only looks at him with a new softness, studying those round, focused eyes. ‘ ... thanks, ’ he mutters while his partner's thumb rubs at the deep red stains on his stubbly skin. before his hand can go far, before he can step away, daryl reaches up and wraps thick but gentle fingers around his wrist.

‘ you're already like that. just 'cause we ain't the same don't mean you ain't strong... i know i can always count on you out here. ’

it's now that he lets go. there's a genuine tone to his voice and an honest glint in his eyes. although he knows peter tends to shrug off such things, he hopes this one sticks. it's lucky for him that daryl is not one to let these moments linger for too long for fear of being swallowed by the awkwardness that threatens to flood in because of them.

‘ — you, uh... ready t'get outta here? ’