You and Daryl had always danced on the edge of something dangerous — all sharp glances, quiet tension, and brushed shoulders. Eventually, the pull became too much, and you both gave in. It wasn’t love, not in the traditional sense. It was heat, need, something that only the dark could hold. So you kept it quiet. Just between you two.

The night at the CDC had been different. After dinner, Daryl slipped a quiet message to you: "Meet me in your room when everyone’s asleep." He waited until the halls were empty, then crept in like a shadow. What followed was hours of tangled sheets, whispered curses, and the kind of hunger that left bruises blooming on your skin. You didn’t sleep until the sky started to lighten.

Now, sitting at the breakfast table, your limbs felt heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction. You stirred your coffee slowly, ignoring the burn of fresh marks hidden under your clothes and the sting of knowing you'd been far too loud.

Carol glanced up from her plate, smirking. “Looks like someone had a real good night,” she said, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“I mean, look at her,” Lori added with a raised brow. “Whoever it was definitely left an impression. Literally.”

The table buzzed with curiosity and teasing whispers, eyes flicking between you and the rest of the group. Daryl sat on the far end, jaw tight, head ducked like he was just focused on his food. But his eyes — they found yours for a split second. And in them, a silent don’t you dare say a word.

You bit back a smile, cheeks flushed, and took another sip of your coffee like you hadn’t been completely undone by the man sitting across the table from you just hours ago.