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Parking feels like it's taking longer than usual but Daryl tells himself it's only because he's excited to be back home, glad as he is he had the sense to go grocery shopping before rush hour.
His earplugs are still securely wedged in his ears as he takes the few - thirty-four - steps to the outside staircase leading to his and Rick's apartment. He takes them two steps at a time, leaping up as he smiles thinking of his boyfriend of five years waiting for him. He gets to the door and it's all he can do not to spill the content of his bags in his rush to open it.
He closes the door with his foot and walks straight to the kitchen. He yanks the earplugs off and puts them on the counter along with his keys. When he’s rounded the island to get to the cupboards and fridge, Daryl stops. Rick hasn't come yet. It's weird because he always makes a show of showering Daryl with love each time he's home and Daryl hasn't been. No matter how long his absence.
The bags are forgotten on the floor and Daryl doesn't look back to make sure his precious strawberries aren't toppling over.
His first instinct is to rush over to the other side of the apartment - Rick's office - opening all available doors on his way but he does a double take when a loud sniffing sound reaches his ears.
Daryl goes back the same way he came in, out of the kitchen and to the left. He enters the living-room and his eyes are already wide before his surprise consciously registers in.
Rick is laying on the couch, facing the back of it, or rather, with his face smashed in the back of it, and his back and shoulders are jumping with silent sobs at a more than alarming speed.
“Rick?”
It's barely a whisper but it still gets Rick's attention, his visible shoulder jolts with the knowledge of Daryl's presence and his arm falls and lays behind his back on the couch, his hand reaching for Daryl.
Daryl's movements are stiff as he walks up to Rick but he sits down and takes the other man's hand in his. Carefully, he puts his other hand on Rick's back, right in the middle of it and pushes gently.
Rick turns, his hand pulls at Daryl's but doesn't let go, he nearly elbows himself in the ribs but then he's facing the other side and it's all Daryl can do to stay sitting where he is and not smooch over his despair-swollen face.
His eyes are so blue like this, bathed in his tears, and his lips are so red, so raw. He's breathtaking and Daryl instantly feels guilty for letting that thought hijack his focus.
“What is it?” Daryl whispers, his wide eyes now a frown and Rick’s attempt at smiling reassuringly only results in an ugly trembling downward crook of his lips.
He breathes deep once, twice, tries to talk, closes his mouth again and his breathing goes haywire before he finally manages to croak out his explanation, “Dad’s dead.”
“Oh.” and Daryl is sorry for his pitiful answer but he was never good at this kind of situations and he's trying hard to think of something to say, his brain going too many miles-an-hour to count and there is still nothing. He squeezes Rick's palm harder as he sees the face of the man he loves contort with what almost looks like physical pain. Rick's chest sinks in so fast and he's most certainly having a panic attack and it's so not what Daryl thought he was coming home to and he's not ready and what can he do and--
And then Daryl knows.
“Sit up.”
He knows. Rick’s soft start contrasts with his jerky motions as he obeys the confidence in Daryl's voice.
Rick sitting up while Daryl is sat by his legs makes it so that he almost straddles the other man's hip but neither of them mention it nor make any sort of move out of their position.
Rick looks up at Daryl through his labored breathing and never-ending torrent of tears and they are so close they share air.
Rick doesn't have to wait very long before he understands where they are going now. Where Daryl is taking them. One powerful, muscled arm makes his way under Rick's left arm, the other settles heavily on his right shoulder and then they pull forcefully and press the two men together with suffocating strength.
Daryl's nose lodges itself right behind the lobe of Rick's right ear and the tip of it is cold and even though Rick still feels like a mess, the blistering force of Daryl's arms around him manages to fill his lungs with oxygen.
Daryl's lips, cool as his nose, kiss Rick's neck and the tiniest of smiles grazes Rick's lips.
The hug lasts as long as it takes for Rick's tears to die away and the man is practically certain he'll have bruises where his body and Daryl’s connect but that's fine. It won't be the first time, nor the last. The pressure of it all feels reassuring in ways Rick had never experienced before and when Daryl's arms loosen up and he grabs at Rick's own arms in turn, the officer looks at his boyfriend with a newfound sense of clarity.
His tears are gone but his breathing is still not nearly normal. And he understands the tight circle of Daryl's hands around his wrists without words, he even smiles a bit for it.
The rituals. Daryl's ‘so-so’ feelings routine - don't you go calling them meltdowns. He's sharing them with Rick and how grateful he is for them even as he ends up with his arms raised over his head, hands joined as Daryl holds them in place.
“Stretch and breathe through it. C'mon, you know how this works.”
Rick's eyes are itchy with dryness now that he's drained them of their tears and his lungs are sore from all the effort. And still, as he looks deep into Daryl's laser-focused sea-blues, he knows he'll be okay. Someone's got his back in the sweetest of ways. He feels safe and he feels loved and nothing has ever felt as right as what's happening right now.
He stretches his arms and breathes through it.