Title: Petrichor - the scent of rain on dry earth
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Pairing: Daryl Dixon & Carol Peletier
Summary: A bad storm is running over Georgia. Daryl and Carol have to stay overnight in a little cabin before they can ride home with their collected supplies. What will they do with the free time soaked and alone?
Word Count: 2300
Beta: Sandi took a look for me.
Warnings: Takes place not long after the end of season 3.
Chapter I: Brontide - the low rumble of distant thunder
Rating: K+
Word Count: 552
The clear blue sky had turned to black within minutes and heavy gusts tousled their hair. Daryl was concerned they wouldn't reach the prison before the storm broke through the dark clouds. They had been very low on gas the last couple of weeks so Carol and he had taken the newfound bicycles for a short supply run to the next village pharmacy. They needed much more medicine now with all the elder Woodbury folks.
Daryl heard an angry thunder from the distant and felt first raindrops on his sleeveless arms. The two survivors left the beautiful chestnut alley behind and reached a glade on top of a hill only one mile behind Brooks. They were soaked within seconds. The protective prison was not far away but Georgia's thunderstorms were malicious. The earth was dry, not prepared for the heavy rain and mudflows were not rare. Plus they couldn't risk getting hit by a flash of lightning with the metal bikes under their butts.
Daryl looked over his shoulder to Carol. She nodded in silent understanding and they headed for the small cabin at Bankstown Road.
After the episode with the Governor the newly-installed council had decided to institute staging areas and storage rooms in case of an attack against the prison and the group had to leave their home. The Bankstown Road cabin, a former road maintenance depot totally overgrown by kudzu, was the second storage room they had completed. They held canned food, water, clothes, blankets, a few guns, flash lights and a walky-talky to reach the other safety points. The simple metal container was surrounded by a wooden spike fence to keep Walkers away.
Daryl and Carol snaked through the defending barrier and they stepped into the dry cabin.
"I'll call the prison to let them know we're okay but will be late." Carol reached for the walky-talky.
"'kay, I hide the bikes." Daryl ran back into the worst storm of the whole summer, a camouflage net in his hands. They couldn't risk an attack from passing strangers, so he moved the bicycles behind the cabin and threw the net over them.
As he came back inside Carol was stripped down to her panties, which were also soaked from the rain. The smooth champagne colored silk glued at her heart-shaped butt. There was nearly no change to her skin color. Fuck, what was this woman doing to him. It got quite tight in Daryl's pants. Carol toweled her hair and front. Nervously but with excitement prickling in her belly, she looked over her shoulder.
"Sorry," she reached for a dry shirt and pulled it over her head.
"No problem," Daryl muttered, nibbling at his thumbnail.
"I checked the pills we organized. The wrapping is muddy but the tablets are okay."
"Maybe we should spread them on the table to dry so the docs can still read the labels." Daryl lowered his gaze and smiled a half smile.
Carol nodded and looked for a second towel for Daryl. She passed it over and turned toward the table, averting her gaze from the soaked hunter. Rain still dropped out of his dark hair. Daryl got out of his heavy leather vest and hung it over a chair. But as he opened the buttons of his shirt he turned to the door.