A Marriage Chapter 6

In which Maggie and Daryl get married.

...

It had been a long time since Daryl Dixon had knots in his stomach, but he was twisted up inside now. He checked over the work his barber had just finished and nodded his approval. His hair was neatly trimmed, as was his beard and mustache. After leaving a tip, he went to the curb where Shane had parked the jeep he'd driven to pick Daryl up. There were still a few hours left before the official ceremony, so they'd decided to spend the morning working, despite it being Saturday.

"You look ready to vomit," Shane pointed out.

"Don't give my stomach any ideas," Daryl replied, sliding into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh.

"Come on, now. You're not a blushing, virginal boy about to fuck for the first time," Shane reminded him.

"How would you feel if you had to marry and fuck Tara?" Daryl asked.

"Tara's gay," Rick pointed out, smiling.

"Yeah, but we watched her grow up," Daryl said tightly, getting agitated with Rick's amusement at his expense.

“Rick said he’d bet a year’s pay your asshole is so tight you couldn’t pull a hair through it,” Rick said, before laughing.

Daryl’s hands knotted into fists while he glared.

“Shane,” Daryl growled.

"Sorry," he said, finally taking the matter seriously.

"I tried to flirt with her over the phone, dead silence," Daryl said, shaking his head. "Not a word back from her. She didn't even tell me to shut the fuck up."

"Maybe she doesn't have a lot of experience with men and she wasn’t sure how to flirt back," said Shane, pulling into the parking lot of the SL headquarters where they could hear the wind blowing in powerful gusts.

"True," Daryl conceded. "Or maybe having me flirt was like having her uncle come on to her."

"She feel like a niece to you?"

Daryl leaned against the wind as they entered the building.

"No, but I'm not really attracted to her like that, if I’m honest," he answered. "She's not attracted to me, either. I can feel it."

"If you're worried about wedding night performance, remember that Maggie Greene's a beautiful young woman," Shane pointed out. "You'll feel plenty of attraction as soon as you get her naked."

"You sound like a pig," he informed Shane, with a lip curled in mild disgust. He was met with more amusement as he climbed from the jeep. Rick was also heading in, and Daryl slammed the Jeep door to hurry across the lot to catch up to him.

“You look panicked,” Rick noted, pushing the button on the elevator to their floor.

Daryl shrugged it off. Yeah, he was nervous, but he’d put up with enough teasing for one day. He wasn’t going to let Rick have a go, too. They stepped from the elevator and paused when he saw a gorgeous woman standing at the receptionist's area. He remembered an article about her on the Security League official website. She was a transfer from Kappa Settlement.

Some of Daryl's anxiety eased when he saw Rick run into the door to his office because his gaze had been glued to her instead of where he was going. The woman ignored him, but there was a slight smirk to her lips as she grabbed her briefcase and started toward Daryl.

"Major General Dixon," she said, saluting.

"Lieutenant Michonne Mason," he said, returning the salute and relieved he'd recalled her surname. He led her into his office, the walls of which were bare, and took a seat behind the great mahogany desk.

"You're a decorated officer but you choose not to display your accomplishments," she noted, looking around at the unadorned space.

"If you're about to psychoanalyze me, don't," Daryl warned, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "I've seen enough shrinks in my life."

"Not at all, Sir," she said, opening her suitcase and taking out some forms, which she laid out before him.

"What's this?"

"You're getting married, so we need to assign your old house to someone in the lower ranks. It's a two bedroom, so it'll likely go to a couple of young soldiers," she said. "We also need to add your new wife to your medical plan and update your will."

"How long will this take?"

"However long it takes you to read the forms," she said with a shrug. "I can leave them with you, or have your personal attorney look them over for you."

"Leave them," he said. "I'll have them back to you within a week."

"Congratulations on your nuptials," she said, closing her briefcase.

"Thanks."

Michonne headed for the door, but was stopped when Daryl spoke to her.

"His name is General Rick Grimes," Daryl said, smiling at her, and how her braids seemed to bounce with every step she took. "He's single."

"I'll keep that in mind, Sir," she said, before she closed the door with another smirk on her lips.

Just like that, all of Daryl's worries about marrying Maggie came flooding in on him once more.

"Did you see her?" Rick said, popping in a few minutes later, while Daryl was attempting to read his papers.

"I not only saw her, I spoke to her," Daryl said, putting the papers down, knowing Rick wasn't going to allow him to get anything accomplished, at least not where papers were concerned.

"She came in on a Saturday," Rick said. "She's dedicated."

"Or she doesn't have a life outside work," Daryl pointed out.

"You always gotta see something negative in somebody, don't you?" Rick complained, sitting down across from Daryl. "I haven't seen an ass like that on a woman since, well, ever."

Daryl was saved listening to Rick pontificate on Michonne's ass when his computer beeped.

"Rick with you?" Shane asked, once the video connection was established.

"Right here," Daryl said, and Rick got up to come stand behind Daryl.

"Just got some bad news," Shane said. "Blake's plans have him moving against Collins a lot sooner than we expected. I'm gonna need you to leave your new bride on Sunday night. Be here in time to help mobilize our defenses. Need you, too, Rick."

"We'll be there," Daryl said.

Shane nodded and the screen went blank. Rick looked down at Daryl.

"They say absence makes the heart grow fonder," Rick said.

"With all due respect, Sir," Daryl said, getting up and going to grab the suit he was going to wear for the ceremony, "fuck you."

…

Maggie Greene sat in front of the vanity in her parents' old room. She tried to think of it as hers, but couldn't quite get there. She remembered, quite clearly, watching her mother do her hair in her own vanity, which had been placed across the room as Maggie grew up, getting ready for church, or other social events. Now this was her room, and she was about to get married to a long-time family friend.

A family friend.

Maggie sighed and stared at her reflection. The house smelled of the steaks Patricia was cooking; t-bones, which were both Daryl and Maggie's favorites. The steaks were complimented with the scent of sweet potatoes, as well. Though there hadn't been drinking in the house since Maggie could remember, she'd seen her mother setting several bottles of wine on the table before she'd come to get her hair styled.

Rick's voice carried from the living room, where he sat speaking with Daryl in a lighthearted tone, but Daryl's voice sounded tense. They teased Beth and Noah about getting married someday, and Maggie noted there wasn't a peep of protest from Noah, lest he say something to offend a superior officer. Her mother brushed her hair while Rosita applied a very light coat of makeup to her face.

"You scared?" Rosita asked, finishing up.

"No, why?" Maggie asked.

"You look pale," her mother noted.

"My summer tan's worn off," she joked.

"You know what I mean," Rosita said, clucking her tongue.

"Ok, yes, I'm nervous," Maggie admitted.

Her stomach had bats, not butterflies, and she sat there feeling as though she was being forced to walk the plank with a canon ball chained to her ankle. As much as she tried to be brave, now that the actual day had come, she was scared. She was about to get married and change her last name, which was big part of her identity, not to mention share her body with someone she barely knew.

"Rosita, sweetie, will you give us a minute?" Josephine asked.

"Sure, Miss Jo," said Rosita. "I'll help Patricia in the kitchen. Then I'll get dressed. We're on in an hour."

"Reverend Douglas is here," Beth said, popping her head in. She was dressed in a lavender dress and had put on some makeup. She looked lovely, fresh, happy and carefree. For a moment, Maggie felt a stab of resentment. She quickly squashed it and smiled back.

"Thanks, Beth," Maggie said. "We won't be long."

Once her sister was gone, Maggie turned to her mother.

"Well," Josephine said, sitting on the edge of the new bed Daryl had bought for him and Maggie. "I know we don't need to have the sex talk, because I figure you're not a virgin."

"I'm not afraid of the sex," Maggie said, grimacing. "Not really. It's changing my name, being his wife…maybe even having his children."

"What's so scary?" Josephine asked. "You'll cook dinner and press his uniforms."

Maggie tried to smile but couldn't.

"I keep seeing Beth with Noah," she said, after a long pause. "They're happy and in love and I keep thinking how I'll never have that. I think about how you were with Daddy, and I know that'll never be Daryl and me."

"You're right, then," Josephine said. "That'll never be you and Daryl if you've made up your mind you ain't allowed to love him."

"What do you mean, ain't allowed?"

Josephine took a deep breath and fidgeted with the hem of her apron while she gathered her thoughts.

"You're not marrying the man you love but that doesn't mean you can't fall in love with the man you're marrying," Josephine finally said. "Give him a chance, Maggie. Open your heart. I think he's a perfect match for you, to be honest. Every time I turn around you're telling me the two of you have something in common."

"We're becoming friends but that's all," Maggie said, trying to make her mother get it, see it from her point of view.

"A woman's husband should be her best friend, just as a man's wife should be his," Josephine explained. "Friendship, not infatuation, should be the bedrock of a marriage. You and Daryl have that. If you start to feel something for him, don't fight it. Nurture it. One day you may realize you fooled around and fell in love with your husband."

Maggie chuckled, and took her mother's hand.

"Make him happy," Josephine continued. "Let him make you happy. Drop all these nonsense notions that your courtship and marriage has to be a fairytale trope. You ain't Snow White and he ain't Prince Charming, and you don't have to be to make a good marriage. Now come on. Let's get you into that dress."

…

The living room furniture had been rearranged to make room for the ceremony. Reverend Douglas stood in front of the windows facing the drive, where wind and rain were driving in hard. They rattled from a crack of thunder and Maggie tried not to see the weather as a bad omen for the relationship she and Daryl were going to have.

Rick stood beside Daryl, while Beth stood with Maggie. She realized she was holding Daryl's hands too tight, but he didn't complain. He just looked at her before he leaned in and whispered that everything was going to be okay. That simple assurance shouldn't have been enough to allay the fears she had, but somehow it was.

Standing there, holding Daryl's slightly calloused hands, Maggie could remember the young man her father had brought into their family when she was a child. She remembered how angry his eyes used to be, how fearful he was. That was what had struck her most about Daryl when she'd first met him. He'd been so afraid of everything. Her father would laugh, Daryl would start. Her mother dropped a cup, he'd dodge back, throwing his hands up as though to ward off a blow.

When he looked at her, however, she'd see that anger soften, and that fear subside. He'd always smile at her, when he wouldn't smile at anyone else. He'd taught her how to hook a worm when her mother didn't want her to learn. He showed her how to climb a tree, and skip rocks across the water. He'd tuck her in at night and tell her stories. She remembered how choppy his reading had been at first, but over time, he'd gotten better at it, and he'd do an amazing job of embellishing the stories from the books, making them better.

"You made Snow White the gangster leader of a drug dealing gang," she said, lost in the memory.

Daryl frowned while Maggie giggled.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't you remember?" she said. "You used to change the stories and make them better. You made Snow White a gangster."

Daryl's usually stoic face cracked a smile.

"Yeah, I do now," he said.

Theodore Douglas politely cleared his throat.

"You ready to begin?" he asked.

"I'm ready," Maggie said, nodding up at Daryl, and as the reverend began to read from his bible. Maggie realized, as she stood there holding his hands, repeating the vows, that she really was ready.

You can love the man you're marrying…

Maggie was far from being in love with Daryl, but she was closer than she'd been the day before. She loved him already, in her way, in the way she'd love any friend, but she'd be a liar if she tried to deny that what she felt now was something a bit deeper than mere friendship. Maybe it was the atmosphere, looking into his eyes, feeling his hands hold hers, so firm and steady, and warm, the idea that she could fall for him someday didn't seem so impossible now.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," Reverend Douglas said. "You may kiss your bride."

Maggie could see Beth and Patricia tense. She couldn't blame them. Every time she and Daryl had attempted even a small peck to the cheek it hadn't gone well. This time she smiled at him and nodded. This time there was no awkwardness when she turned her head slightly right and he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. They were soft, warm, and pleasant. He managed a light smile when they turned to the intimate gathering of their friends and family.

"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends," Reverend Douglas announced, "I give you Mr. and Mrs. Daryl Dixon."

…

The food was some of Patricia's best cooking yet. They ate dinner, with Daryl at the head of the table, and Maggie across from him, taking up the positions that had once been Hershel and Josephine's. Maggie was aware of her mother now sitting to her right, speaking across the table to Reverend Douglas, and how Beth had hurried to grab the chair next to Daryl to grill him with questions on his missions. It also didn't escape Maggie that Noah seemed a tad bit sullen as he watched Beth all but interrogate Daryl, giving him all her attention.

Rosita flirted with Rick, who clearly enjoyed it. Patricia and Otis carried their own conversation, sitting across from one another. He complimented her cooking. She complimented his suit. They had easy conversation, remembering their own wedding, and the good times in the intervening years.

The food was good, the wine was too, but Maggie ate very little. She didn't want to spend the evening too full. Daryl's eyes occasionally met hers, and they'd share a smile or two. Dinner was left behind in favor of coffee in the living room, though Rosita had to bow out early. A cranky Noah offered her a lift home so she wouldn't have to bike in the rain. Patricia insisted Josephine and Beth join the newlyweds while she and Otis cleared away the dishes. Maggie enjoyed getting to know Rick, even if the conversation was shallow, but all the while she was aware of the clock ticking away the hours to bedtime.

At nine o'clock, which was Maggie's usual bedtime anyway, Daryl stood, giving everyone the signal that the party was over. Rick drank a bit too much, and Otis offered to get the guest room ready for him. Daryl took Rick outside for a smoke and some cold air to clear his head.

Maggie tried to not feel any embarrassment when the door was closed to the good reverend, and everyone wished her and Daryl goodnight. Having everyone know what was going to be going on in her bedroom that night made her face burn, and Beth's knowing smirk didn't help, either. She avoided making eye contact with anyone else and headed off to her room, grateful they were on the first floor, at the front of the house, away from everyone else just in case sound carried. Not that she planned on making a lot of noise, but Karen's words about Daryl's tongue skills came rushing back to her.

Daryl was outside saying something to Rick. She heard their voices but couldn't make out their words. Rather than trying to eavesdrop, Maggie went about the business of getting ready for bed. One of Carol's gifts to her had been a very pretty negligee. It was white, sheer, with lace trim. She took a few moments to lotion her legs and feet; anything to kill the time.

The front door finally shut. Maggie listened to Rick head upstairs to the guest room before Daryl came into the room. He'd given her fifteen minutes to get ready, she was sure that's what held him up, and she wished she had fifteen minutes more. He went into the bathroom where she listened to him brushing his teeth.

She was accosted by memories of a guy she'd once dated named Gary. He'd been a sweet guy, a good friend, but not someone who turned her on, and she'd hated the sex. It had always been uncomfortable, simply because she couldn't get aroused by a guy who was her good friend. She'd known the whole time she'd been with him she shouldn't have dated him. The spark wasn't there. Was that what her sex life with Daryl was going to be? Or would they turn out to have something better?

Just do your duty, Maggie scolded herself.

Maggie stood beside the bed, taking extra pillows down but glanced over to see Daryl came out of the bathroom. He went to the dresser to take off his cufflinks, his eyes going to her once. He took in the negligee and his eyes lingered, moving over her slowly from her head to her toes. He'd never seen so much of her before. She worked to turn the covers down before she climbed in, resisting the urge to pull them up to her chin and pretend she had a headache, or was too tired. She couldn't have done so anyway. The law said a marriage wasn't real unless it was consummated before midnight of the same day of the ceremony. They had just over two hours, and Maggie was determined to do this right.

It wasn't until she was on the bed she noticed the champagne resting on ice on his bedside table. It looked pricy, not that she'd know, since she had never actually had any, but the label was fancy.

Daryl pulled his shoes and socks off and put them away. He shrugged off his jacket, hung it up, and then undid his belt. Slowly, methodically, he removed one article of clothing after another under Maggie's steady gaze. His back was laced with scars that made her wonder what kind of battles he'd seen to sustain them, and why were they only on his back? She'd never seen him shirtless when he'd lived with them, so this was the first glance she had of his back.

He seemed so calm, so unhurried and unconcerned, as though this night, and what was about to happen between them, didn't faze him in the least. Perhaps he it was an act. Perhaps he was scared half to death, like her, but better at hiding his anxiety as he undressed. He didn't pull off the silky black boxers he wore underneath. Maggie liked them. She looked at his toned body, broad shoulders, and muscles arms, his handsome face. As far as men went, she could've been saddled with someone uglier, meaner, but she wasn't. She was glad for that.

"You like champagne?" he asked, coming over to his side of the bed.

"I don't know, I've never had it," she said.

"It's pretty good," he told her. "It's made for celebrations. I'd say tonight is a good reason to have some."

He poured two flutes and handed one to Maggie before he climbed in. The bed didn't creak, thank God, when it took his weight. He held up his glass.

"To a good marriage," he proposed.

"To a good marriage," she agreed.

They clinked glasses, and Maggie sipped the drink. She was surprised by how fruity and bubbly, and sweet, it was.

"You like it?" he asked, a touch of a smile at the corners of his lips.

"I thought it would be bitter," she confessed.

"I got something sweet," he said. "I like sweet things."

The words were suggestive, but his tone was neutral. She couldn't blame him after what happened the last time he'd tried flirting. She considered saying something suggestive back, but her mind drew a blank. She took another sip, then another. He watched her drain her flute.

"More?" he asked. "It'll help you relax."

She let him pour another, even though she could already feel the alcohol in her system, especially from the wine they'd had earlier.

"You ever get nervous?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, nodding, "but learned not to show fear the hard way."

"Training?"

"My father," he answered, shaking his head. "My brother, to a lesser degree."

"Your father did that to your back?"

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe not, but Maggie felt the knot of anxiety in her belly loosen and then slowly vanish. Daryl seemed a lot more human, relatable, somehow, even though her father had never hit her a day in her life.

"Yeah. He wasn't a good man."

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"Liver failure," he said. "I wasn't sorry to see him go, being honest."

She had so many questions about his youth but she didn't ask. This was a depressing subject and she didn't want to think about it, and she doubted he did either. Besides, after drinking a few more sips she felt mellow. She watched his profile when he drank, and remembered Karen saying he had a magical tongue, but there was no way she could ask him to prove that.

Instead of talking she lay back on the bed and switched her lamp out. The negligee had ridden up high on her thighs. Daryl's eyes slid over her before he took a deep breath and exhaled, as though determined to complete a difficult task. Maybe it was hard for him, being with her. She'd not really considered it from his point of view. He drained his flute and set it down. The time for drink and talk was over. They had a duty to perform.

"You're beautiful, Maggie," he said. He leaned on one arm and gazed down at her.

"You're not so bad yourself," she told him.

She could feel her heart hammering, for the wrong reasons, when he stroked a finger down her chest. He cupped one of her breasts and thumbed her nipple. Maggie was relieved when it perked up under his ministrations. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd be able to moisten at his touch.

"I got this for us," he said, and reached into the bedside table to produce a small bottle of lubricant. It was like he could read her mind, and knew her every concern.

Maggie watched Daryl run his hand down her body, felt his fingertips graze her flesh, before he brought his hand up and under her gown, to lightly stroke her belly.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he said softly. "We only need to do this tonight to make it legal."

"I know," she said. "I'm okay."

Her tummy quivered under his touch. He knew it wasn't from anticipation. Without her asking, Daryl applied the lubricant to her folds. She stroked the nape of his neck and tugged him down into their first real kiss. She opened her lips, let him explore her, even as she opened her thighs, one of which grazed his manhood. His breath hitched, and she pulled him closer, kissed him with more eagerness. When he moaned at the feel of her leg against his hardness, Maggie felt herself finally respond.

This night wasn't just about her. It wasn't about the farm; it wasn't making a male heir. It wasn't about duty. It was about Daryl, too. It was about the good man who'd come from a shitty, abusive family but overcame. It was about this good man who'd been alone too long, and desperately wanted a family.

She kissed him with genuine fervor now, felt her heart begin to pound for the right reasons. Her hands pulled him close, she invited him to rest between her thighs. She pushed his boxers out of the way and kissed along his jaw until her lips whispered in his ear: Yes. He took the time to pull the negligee off before resting her back into the pillows. His body was flush against hers, now, and she felt heat pool between her thighs.

It was easy to take Daryl inside. She was wet from more than artificial lube, now. Her hips lifted to meet every thrust. She gripped his ass, ran her hands up his scarred back, and felt tension mount inside. There was a knot inside her again, only this one felt good. Every time he thrust into her it tightened a little more. It was only a matter of time.

She held his face, locked her gaze with his, unaware she'd started to moan. Her whole body was slick with sweat, and she could feel herself getting closer...closer...until it happened. The tension uncoiled, released, and her body fluttered around him just as he arched his back and came with a plaintive cry that he muted between her shoulder and the pillow.

He pulled out of her and laid back. Maggie stared at the ceiling and wondered if it was a fluke, a one-time thing, or if they could be a couple with a satisfying sex life, at least. She felt the last ripples of her orgasm fade before she looked at him.

Maybe her mother was right. She wasn't in love with Daryl Dixon, but maybe, someday, she could be.

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