reader pronouns: she/herThe door banged open and you looked up to see Rick partially supporting Dary

reader pronouns: she/herThe door banged open and you looked up to see Rick partially supporting Daryl. He had a belt tied around his upper leg to slow the bleeding of a very obvious wound in his leg. You swore under your breath and immediately rose, pulling a clean pair of gloves on.“You’ve got to be kidding me with this, Daryl,” you scolded him. Rick helped him get onto one of the tables nearby. You hastily began pulling supplies off the shelf. “What the hell happened?”Daryl shot you a glare, annoyed by the edge in your voice. “I hurt my fuckin’ leg,” he growled. “Can’t ya fuckin’ tell?”Rick’s eyebrows lifted. “I wouldn’t antagonize her, Daryl. She’s the one who—”“OW! Son of a bitch!” Daryl yelped out. You’d jabbed a needle into his leg to numb the area without warning and perhaps a little harder than necessary…You shot him a look as Rick tried his hardest not to react.“What the fuck was that for?!” Daryl asked, reaching for his leg. You pushed his hand away before he could get it near the injection site or the wound. “Goddamn, woman! Ya coulda fuckin’ warned me!” he growled. “Stop whining,” you snapped at him. “I’m sick of having to put you back together every three days, Dixon.” You started digging in a nearby cabinet for your suturing supplies but were having trouble locating what you needed. You were rifling through a drawer for the third time when his southern drawl cut through the crinkling of plastic and paper.He let out a scoff. “Jesus, maybe ya should spend some time organizin’ this place instead of just tossing shit randomly in drawers. Maybe then ya could actually find what yer lookin’ for instead of havin’ yer patient bleed out on the table…”You straightened up and shot him a glare that sent a chill down even Rick’s back. He stepped forward to catch your attention. “How bad is his leg?” Rick interrupted.Without change of expression, you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut Daryl’s pant leg wide open practically from knee to his belt loops. You tossed the scissors down with a loud clatter on the metal table and eyed the wound. It was wide, but the edges were clean and you’d be able to stitch it easily. It was deep enough, but not so deep that you were worried about permanent damage. “He’ll be fine,” you tossed at Rick.“Ya just fuckin’ ruined my goddamn pants on purpose,” Daryl accused you, staring at the entirety of his now exposed upper leg. “Why the hell did ya have to cut ‘em that much?”You rolled your eyes dramatically.Rick ignored the bickering and cleared his throat. “Great… Alright. I’m, uhh, gonna leave you to it then,” he said, patting Daryl heavy-handedly on the shoulder and giving him a pointed look. As soon as the door shut behind the sheriff you rounded on Daryl again, your nostrils flaring with your anger. “You don’t come in here and tell me how to run my shit!” you snapped at him, nearly jabbing a gloved finger into his chest. “This place is organized fine! I wouldn’t have to search so hard if someone didn’t keep using up all my goddamn suturing supplies! Not to mention the antibiotics!”Daryl’s eyes narrowed and flashed. “Hey, somebody has gotta keep your ass safe! Ain’t no joke goin’ outside the walls!”“You think I don’t fucking know what it’s like out there? I know all too well what it’s like! And yet, despite my repeated warnings that you need to be less reckless and less of a pain in my ass, you’re the only one who seems to be entirely unable to keep themselves out of trouble for more than 24 hours at a time!” “Ya think I like getting torn to pieces all the time? I like it about as damn much as I do comin’ in here and havin’ ya patch me up! Yer bedside manner could use a whole lot of fuckin’ work, doc!”You let out a growl of frustration and threw your hands up, anger flaring in your chest. He was so—he was so—UGH! “You know what? Fuck you! Next time you almost kill yourself, you can have someone else stitch you up!”“Good! Maybe they’ll do a better job!” he yelled back, ignoring the throbbing in his leg.That was it. Your jaw clenched and your chest was heaving in angry breaths. Your eyes were flashing with an internal light that was staggering. You looked wild and nearly feral as you glared at him, and something in Daryl couldn’t hold back any longer. He grabbed the lapel of your white coat and pulled your lips down on his, kissing you fiercely.To his surprise, you kissed him back, almost melting beneath his lips, softening under his touch—but then, you seemed to come back to your senses and stumbled back, looking at him with wide, shocked eyes.“W—what the hell was that?” you demanded. “Why did you do that?!” You were entirely alarmed at how your body had responded to him, at how good and right kissing him had just felt. Warmth bloomed out from the center of your chest and spilled outward through the rest of you. “What the fuck, Daryl?!”His blue eyes were still sharp and fixed on you, but there was something in them now that was different. “Yer the biggest goddamn pain in my ass, ya know that?”You scoffed. “Me? Me? You’re—you!” You were stuttering, stumbling over your words, and you hated that.“Ya gonna fix my leg or what?” Daryl asked, his eyes still fixed on you, slightly narrowed. You came back into yourself and resumed your care, ripping open sterile gauze and arranging the tools you needed. You felt his eyes on you and your cheeks grew hot. It was some infuriating mixture of anger and desire to kiss him again. “This isn’t—this isn’t over, Daryl,” you said. “You can’t just do that and then expect everything to just… go on the way it was. And I’m still mad at you!” You sighed and focused on his leg. “It’s not over…”“I was hopin’ not…” he drawled.Prompt: “You don’t come in here and tell me how to run my shit!” -- source link

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