Since the day you set foot in Alexandria, it’s been a constant battle between you and Daryl Dixon. You’re both strong-willed, stubborn, and quick to anger, which seems to spark friction every time you’re in the same room. Whether it’s about rationing supplies, the best approach to a run, or something as trivial as who gets to stand watch, the tension between you two is undeniable.

Today was no different.

You had gone to his place to settle something about the upcoming run. The moment Daryl crossed his arms and gave you that infuriating look, everything went downhill.

“You don’t even think things through!” you snapped, voice rising as your patience wore thin. “You’re just gonna get people killed!”

Daryl’s glare cut through you, and he shot back just as harshly, “And you think you know better than everyone else, huh? You ain’t got the experience for half the shit you talk about.”

His jaw clenched, muscles twitching in his neck, and for a moment, it looked like he might explode. Instead, he just grunted, stepping back as if to end the conversation.

“I’m done with this,” you spat, before storming out and slamming the door behind you so hard it echoed through the house.

Daryl stood there, hands clenched into fists at his sides, the sound of the door reverberating in the silence. “Stubborn idiot…” he muttered, shaking his head in exasperation, though you were already halfway down the street.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Rick and Michonne had been nearby, watching the entire scene unfold. They exchanged a glance, Rick’s lips curling into a knowing smirk. He’d seen this routine too many times before—the fiery arguments, the storming off, the tension that hung in the air like thick smoke. It was becoming a daily occurrence.

Rick couldn’t help but chuckle. “I swear, those two are either gonna kill each other or end up kissin’. Either way, it’ll be one hell of a show.”

Michonne chuckled, giving him a sideways glance. “You’re probably right. Either way, I’m getting popcorn when it happens."