Aiden scoffed. “I didn’t ask for your opinion,” he snarled back at you. “You’re new here, but I suggest you fall in line. I’m running this thing, alright?”
Your back was up and hot anger was blooming in your chest. You had opened your mouth to respond but suddenly Daryl was already there beside you.
“I suggest ya watch yer goddamn mouth,” he growled back at Aiden. “Ya ain’t got a clue who yer dealin’ with here.” Daryl was posturing at him, and his broad shoulders looked even more intimidating than usual. “If ya can’t talk to Y/N nicely, I can adjust your tone with my fist.”
Aiden tried his hardest to appear steadfast, but he was quailing a little beneath the archer’s sharp glare. “Is that a threat?”
“If ya dun fix yer attitude it’s a fuckin’ promise.”
“Daryl,” you cautioned him. “It’s okay…” You were trying to diffuse the situation.
“Nah, it ain’t,” he tossed over his shoulder back at you. “Nobody should talk to ya like this asshole.”
Being called an asshole apparently was the last straw for Aiden, because he cocked back his fist. Daryl was faster. You winced at the thud and crunch as Daryl’s knuckles met Aiden’s face. He dropped to the ground like a lead anchor.
Daryl shook out his hand and you stepped up next to him, staring down at Aiden’s motionless form. You sighed heavily and glanced over at Daryl.
He scratched at a non-existent itch and shrugged. “I know ya didn’t need me to stand up for ya but… this guy pisses me off.”
You nodded. “That sounded awful. Are you sure you didn’t break you hand?”
“Nah. Might’a broken his face though. Which—’m fine with.”
You touched Daryl lightly on the arm. “Let’s just go take care of your hand, okay?”
“S’fine.”
“I know, but… just let me.” You gave him a small smile and Daryl felt his cheeks flush.
Prompt: “That sounded awful. Are you sure you didn’t break you hand?”