Everything Daryl hasn't said - that he should have - is evident in the way his arms come around the other man. Welcome back. I missed you. I was worried. I wish I'd gone with you. Thank you. He holds him close, possessive and protective in a way he rarely is. Daryl curls one hand around the back of Jesus's neck, nose pressed against his temple, and just. Stays like that for a while. He's back, in one piece, not bit or sick. That he brought guns and ammo with him isn't anywhere near Daryl's head, and that'd shock him if he could spare a thought-- since when is this him?

"Paul." Softly. Daryl rubs his other hand up and down his back and presses a barely-there kiss near his ear. "C'mon."

It's naptime for all ninjas.