Their first kiss was a wanton act; awkward and completely unplanned.
Carol was settled against the ladder of the bunk bed, quivering hands grasping to hold onto the cup in her hand like it was her lifeline. She took another sip. The water was warm but relinquishing the harsh soreness in her throat felt wonderful. Daryl sat next to the bed— legs splayed in front of him, arms crossed and leaning his back against the wall. He was quiet, eyes following her movements. She caught the stare and the corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly. "Thanks," she whispered. Carol's voice was scratchy and just the one syllable hurt.
"Don' do it again," Daryl replied with a scoff. Her voice was a kitten, his a bobcat. "May not find ya."
"Wouldn't need you. Not... codependent." She paused as a cough ripped through her. Another sip. Her hair, usual light, feathery tufts perched upon her head, was plastered to her temple and jawline. Sweat dripped down every contour and crevasse, pooling onto her shirt mixed with the stains of walker blood.
She competed to live.
"…but you'd find me."
Daryl shrugged, top teeth mauling his bottom lip. He remembered the agony of thinking she was gone, the despair of losing yet another. When he found her knife, he wasn't sure how to handle it. Last time he'd found a personal item of a Peletier, she'd been found weeks later hoarded in the Greene Walker Zoo. Care for someone, they'll leave you.
He didn't want the same consequence.
He'd never said this, of course; he was a Dixon, not a goddamned pansy.
"Y'ain't gonna get lost again."
"I'm a cat. Nine lives." A cheeky grin overran her face, crystal blue pools that were her eyes lighting up. "Seven left." And you've saved me both times.
Carol picked herself up from the bed, scooting to the edge of the mattress. Her cup remained in her hands. She leant down and, in a more thankful gesture than anything — as she told herself — brought their lips together.
It lasted a good three seconds. They were like two teenagers who'd never kissed before: just a sweet, short touch of the lips.
Daryl wasn't even sure what had happened before it was over, rushing to stand to his feet as she slithered back to her corner of the bunk. "Thanks," Carol concluded simply, finishing her water with another sip. A smirk was plastered to her face, taunting him to do anything more.
Daryl nodded, delayed by a few seconds, before ambling out of the room. "I — th'others gonna wanna know you're here."
"You do that."