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Buffy Summers could feel her blood pressure rising as she sat behind Daryl Dixon on his motorcycle. She would very much prefer to be riding a car that had her fourteen year old sister behind the wheel. In Dawn’s defense, she was an amazing driver; but Buffy couldn’t help but feel safer in an enclosed space. Not on the back of a motorcycle where anything could just reach out and jerk her off the back. She tightened her arms around his waist. She was torn between letting go or holding on if a walker tried to get her off the back; she knew Daryl would try to save her. Not because something was between them, but because he was Daryl. Buffy was pretty sure if they made dictionaries like that, Daryl would mean a protective and loyal person who would go through hell just to save someone he cared about. Underneath that description would be a very long list of adjectives that described him so more, but Buffy was too paranoid right now to think of a single one.

“Alright back there, princess?” He yelled over the sound of his motorcycle. Buffy rolled her jaw and glared at the back of his head. He knew she hated being called “sweetheart” and “doll”. She also knew he knew how much being called “princess” pissed her off. He made it his mission to call her all of these things. If a walker tried to pull her down, his country ass was coming with her. “You’re holdin’ on pretty tight.”

“Fuck you, Daryl!” She yelled angrily back. Her angry tone quickly became a yelp as they hit a bump that threatened to jar her off the bike. She held onto him tighter and heard a quiet hiss. She let up; in all this madness, it was easy to forget that she was still the Slayer. No vampires existed anymore only walkers. Before she could think of Angel or Spike, Daryl pulled her from depression by cheekily saying:

“What makes you think you’d top?” Buffy’s mouth fell open. She knew he was kidding. Daryl would freeze up if she ever tried anything with him, but still…the statement caused her mouth to go dry and make her very aware that they were, for the most part, alone right now. All of the cars were in front of them. Something about the thought—something about his statement and the fact no one could see her—gave her courage. She leaned forward, until her lips were a hair’s length from his ear, and said in her sultriest voice possible:

“We both know I would be.” She heard his in drawn breathe and decided to tease him a little more (because damn this was fun) by dropping her hands down to his belt. Innocently, of course. She didn’t want it to seem like she was propositioning him; she was so certain he would clam up then and have nothing to do with her for a few days. Still, she felt him tense.

Daryl’s heart was hammering as he tried not to look down at the fingers twined around his belt. His mind kept repeating her words. He waited to see if she would do anything more, but her fingers stayed where they were.

He was both disappointed and grateful.

‘Fuckin’ tease…’ He grieved. Daryl just knew that the rest of his nights for at least a week would be filled with those kinds of dreams.