Author's Note: For reasons I mentioned over on Tumblr, last week I was kind of jammed up with my ongoing stories. Then we had a half assed hurricane over the weekend, and Friday night while my lights were flickering at three in the morning, I started getting scenes of the group dealing with their own hurricane during season 2. I picked season 2 because the farmhouse is my favorite setting for the group. And also my other stories are AU prequels, so I wanted to write a Caryl further along into canon where they've gone through more tragedy.
For this, timewise, it was clearly summer when Sophia died, and they were layering in long sleeves by the time Dale did, and the south (outside of the mountain areas) doesn't generally go into 'long sleeve weather,' until well into October. So even though the events of the season seemed to roll together one almost after another, at some point the rules of time and space indicate there was a real jump in the seasons. And it had to have been a jump of at least a month, and it works out nicely that jump had to have been during peak real life hurricane season :) So I decided here, everything is perfect canon to Sophia's funeral episode, then go with events as outlined here through to what I'm tagging as them in early October.
I'm considering this basically a one shot. More at the end though.
The challenge is to resist circumstances. Any idiot can be happy in a happy place, but moral courage is required to be happy in a hellhole.
- Joyce Carol Oates, Mudwoman: A Novel
/*/*/*/
Summer and Winter were not supposed to fall in love.
- Julie Kagawa, Winter's Passage
The Corner of Bitter and Sweet
Daryl gave a hard punch to his pillow, before he rolled over on the living room carpet, and tucked his head down against the side of the couch where Carol was sleeping just above. Then with a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and listened to the rain.
It was already well after midnight, he'd been lyin' down for hours, and he still just could not get to sleep.
But that rain had been beatin' against the farmhouse like a drum, for most of the day, swirling up with the winds that were howling against the eaves. The rain was bad, fallin' by inches, but the winds were the worst he'd seen in years. They'd already knocked down God knew how many of the trees surroundin' the farm, and all kinds of crap had been flying into the side of the house.
Half the windows were already broke.
For the all the damage they were seeing (and hearing), and for how long the storm had been going, they were all almost positive it was a real hurricane blowin' through. Of course they couldn't actually say that for sure because well, there was no way to say for sure anymore. Not with all the pretty weather people and their fancy computers, long gone. But over the last two days the rains had been going in bands gettin' heavier and heavier, all while the barometer on the side of the house kept dropping lower and lower. It was enough of a sign for Hershel to decide to board up the windows. Unfortunately they only had time to do the downstairs ones and two on the second floor, before the winds showed up, and it just wasn't safe to be outdoors no more. Especially on a God damn ladder. This was the problem with not havin' any warning now on when a monster storm like this was gonna blow in.
You just couldn't prepare for 'em.
What had started off on day one like a simple rainstorm, had turned into something bad enough that everyone was now huddled together in little groups of three or four to a room, sleeping in the downstairs of the farmhouse. They'd had to do that, because the first floor was the only place they were completely safe from any possibility of flying glass.
It very much felt like they were refugees again.
Even their meals were back to the basics. 'Cuz with the wells bein' flooded with storm water, they were trying to conserve the fresh water they had in the house until they were sure everything coming out of the ground was still safe to drink. So that night for dinner, they'd all huddled around the Greene's candle and lantern lit dining room, to eat their big meal of canned peaches, and peanut butter and blackberry preserves on slightly stale crackers. Everybody was already a little on edge, just for the storm going on as long as it had, with no end yet in sight. And that's when there'd suddenly been a HUGE crack of thunder, the kind that rattled your teeth, right before a bolt of lightning lit up the whole place like the midday sun.
And that was WITH the boards over the windows!
Then not ten seconds after that, they'd heard another tree crash down out in the front yard. That's when Lori had made a nervous comment about how maybe they should give the storm a name, like they used to do with the big ones. He had immediately smirked, and suggested that if they were going to start with the "As" that they should call it "Andrea." And though Andrea had thrown half of her cracker at him for it, she had laughed at the joke along with everyone else. Everyone but Shane of course.
Because old Shane didn't laugh at anything these days.
That fucker was wound, TIGHT. Tight enough that Daryl did not like havin' to be stuck in the house with him. There was no way though that Hershel could make him stay outside, not with those winds gustin' probably close to a hundred miles an hour.
It woulda been a death sentence.
But while everyone else had spread out that day with games or chores, trying to find ways to keep themselves busy . . . like Carol had been working on patching the holes in his shirts, while he sat on the floor beside her and sharpened up his arrowheads . . . Shane just kept pacing all through the downstairs, room to room, bitching to everyone who didn't wanna listen, about the wind and the rain, and how it was all fucked.
Everything was fucked.
Now Daryl knew that he himself was not the most patient of people, but not once in his life had he ever bitched about a damn HURRICANE! You just road it out, and it was done when it was done. But it was like Shane just couldn't process shit no more. Everything was in a battle with him . . . even Mother Nature. And any opportunity he had to pick a fight with anyone over anything, Jesus Christ did he take it. Daryl felt like he was like living with his daddy again. And he knew Carol was on edge with him too, because that's how it woulda been with Ed.
Always just waiting for the nothing to set him off.
For that reason alone, for how she was gettin' stressed, when she didn't need no more God damn stress, Daryl was planning on pulling Rick aside after this storm was finally done, and telling him he needed to deal with his buddy one way or the other. Because Shane wasn't just going through a mood anymore . . . he was cracking up.
And God help them all when he snapped.
It was just then that Daryl felt a warm hand touch his cheek, right as Carol whispered in his ear, "are you awake?"
"Hmm," he hummed with his eyes still shut, "mostly. Why," he rolled over, and his eyes popped open on that tired, but always pretty face, leaning over the side of the couch . . . he could see her clearly in the low flames from the fireplace, "what's wrong?"
Her hand fell from his cheek and down to his chest, where her fingers curled into a loose fist.
"I'm worried about the horses."
Again, her words were a whisper so she wouldn't wake the others. Currently Andrea, Dale, and T-Dog were all sleeping in different parts of the living room. When Carol spoken though, Daryl found his jaw twitching, because he knew what she had just said, wasn't all that she was sayin'. So he let out a sigh.
"Carol," he answered softly with a scrub of his hand along his whiskers, "you know it's nowhere near safe yet to go out now. The storm should break by mornin' though, and we'll go check on 'em first thing then," he nodded, "I promise."
Though he did find it very hard these days to say no to her when she asked him for anything, on this one he was gonna hold firm. Because he wasn't gonna have her take a pitchfork to the head, just 'cuz she wanted to make sure the damn horses were all right.
But then he saw how she was giving him a little smile, and he started to think he mighta just walked himself into a trap. Then she pushed her blanket back, and pointed up to the ceiling.
"But listen," she said softly, "it went quiet just a minute ago. The eye must be going overhead."
Daryl blinked and looked up to the plaster . . . son of a bitch. She was right.
It had gone quiet.
He'd been so caught up in the thoughts swirlin' around in his head, he hadn't even noticed the storm had stopped swirlin' around the house. And when his eyes snapped back to Carol's, he saw her giving him a hopeful smile.
"Please, Daryl," she whispered, "if we go fast, we should be there and back in less than fifteen minutes. That's plenty of time, right?"
For a second he just stared up into those bright blues that were gonna lead him off to hell. Then he let out a groan and rolled over.
"It probably ain't," he muttered into his pillow, "but if we run," he pushed himself up, "we might just get wet and not dead."
Yeah, he knew the idea of going out now when the eye could pass at any time, was dumb as shit, but he still could not say no to that woman. So as he rolled over and started yanking on his boots, he grunted over his shoulder, "bunny speed is our goal here, woman, as in quick like."
Instead of speakin' again, he just heard her let out a soft chuckle as she brushed her fingers through his hair. Then her feet were dropping down to his blanket, and she was reaching over to pull on her own boots. By the time he was jumping up, and grabbing his bow from where he'd left it leaning on the end of the couch, Carol had her laces tied and was on her feet. After she'd gotten her sweater buttoned up, he snatched up a flashlight from the end table and put his arm out.
She hurried to step in front of him.
They'd just reached the front door when Daryl heard Shane hissing from behind them.
"Where the fuck are you two going?!"
And he spun around to see the ex-cop, current crack pot, standing in the doorway leadin' into the back hall. Yeah, that's where Shane had opted to lay out his bedroll. In the hallway.
All by himself.
So Daryl just rolled his eyes at his unwelcome appearance now.
"You ain't my momma and you ain't Rick," he grunted out with a scowl, "so I don't need to be tellin' you jack about how I spend my time."
Actually Carol was the only other person besides Rick (and his dead Momma) who Daryl felt like he was accountable to. But Carol was right there with him, so that one was a non-issue. Though he could tell Shane did not care one bit for his answer back to him. Because he'd just started across the room with blood in his eye.
Again, the asshole was always looking for a fight.
"What the hell did you just say to me!?" he spit back, no longer really making much of an effort to keep his voice down. And at that point, two and a half months into Crazy Town, Daryl had seriously had more than enough of his SHIT! So he was just about to raise his crossbow up, and bash Shane in the face with the butt of it, when Carol seemed to sense his thoughts on this matter.
Because she stepped in front of him.
And with one arm behind her back, so she could press her hand against his belly, she looked up at the psychopath now towering over her.
If she had any fear of him, Daryl wasn't seeing it.
"You heard him just fine the first time, Shane." She started speakin' then with a soft defiance that made Daryl proud, "we don't answer to you. Rick's the boss here," she shook her head slowly, "you're not in charge of anything."
Then she turned, and as her eyes snapped up to again make contact with Daryl's in the lantern light, she gave him a little push on the belly.
The lady was telling him it was time to go.
So after shooting one more look over her head to that furious ex-cop . . . bastard was shootin' daggers now at Carol, which Daryl didn't like one bit . . . he put his arm out, and tucked her in behind him. Because seriously he just did not trust that asshole anymore. And as Daryl listened to Carol working the locks, he stared over into those black eyes that were staring back into him.
The man was startin' to look like a shark.
It was that pure predator thing is what it was, and it was why he was becomin' so God damn dangerous. That and the fact that he was bat shit crazy.
That was a big part of it too.
Which was why Daryl was very pleased when he heard the door start to creak, and that strangely cool, yet muggy air began to drift in. And feeling Carol's hand touch his back, he knew that she'd already stepped out onto the porch.
So with his hand on the brass knob, he backed himself out the door with her, while yanking it shut in front of him. Of course he'd no sooner done that, than he heard all the tumblers immediately sliding and rolling on the other side.
Shane was locking them out.
"You're such an asshole," he muttered at that unseen face just as he started to turn around, expecting that Carol would be right there with him. But that's when he realized that she'd already gone over to the top of the stairs. And as he followed after her, he saw that her arms were up and crossed at her chest . . . she seemed almost frozen. And when Daryl looked past her, he realized why that was. Because with the way the hurricane clouds had parted and were now swirling off on the far edges of his sight, the moon was left just overhead. And with the time it was in the lunar cycle, that big hunk of cheese up there, was shining bright and full, straight down over the farm.
And all Daryl could see out there was destruction.
Every bit of the land in view, was covered with a thick layer of branches and leaves. Trees along the property edge, were down everywhere and every which way. And it looked like half the time when they'd fallen, they'd taken out the border fences in the process. One of the big oaks had even toppled over into the back side of that awful barn.
There was a huge hole in the roof.
"This is going to kill Hershel," Carol murmured sadly, and Daryl let out a faint grunt at that.
"Well," he put his hand high up on Carol's back and started walking her down the steps, "I think as long as the house makes it through, he'll be all right. The rest of it'll just be cleanup and some literal mendin' of fences, and we can handle that." He shrugged, "maybe we can even try and put a better spin on it, and point out how at least we won't have to cut down any trees for the winter firewood." He let his hand fall from her back as he gave a wave, "we've got more than enough here."
It was at least a dozen that had fallen just in their view. That didn't even count what had to have gone down out in the surrounding woods and fields, or even just out in front of the house. The sad thing was, a lot of the trees that had fallen were the big suckers.
The kind that looked to have been around for a good while.
Now that was probably gonna be what hurt Hershel the most, seein' all the old trees go. Because Daryl knew that if this was his land, that's what'd get to him.
The history literally falling away.
"Keep an eye for stray walkers," he murmured over to Carol then as they reached the last step, "God knows what this storm's done to 'em. Damn winds mighta scooped a bunch up from the city, and dropped them down in the middle of the county."
"Do you really think that could've happened?" Carol whispered back with an uneasy glance around the yard. And he nodded.
"Yeah," he hummed while taking his first step off the staircase, "I do actually. Because you know these fuckers don't die but one way, and they don't have the sense to get out of a storm, so," he shrugged, "you gotta figure there were herds in the streets that took a ride. It's just a matter of how far they went with the wind."
Not to mention, a storm this big had to have spawned at least a few tornados, and that'd really be the nightmare scenario. Walkers gettin' sucked up and spit back out miles away, like used to happen with the waterspouts and the fish.
Walkernados . . . he grunted to himself . . . yeah, that'd be some majorly fucked shit right there.
It was just then, when his foot sunk down DEEP into a mud puddle . . . he almost lost his boot . . . that Daryl knew there would be no "running" down to the stables. Hell, looking around now, with his lips pursed, he knew they'd be lucky if they didn't need a damn boat to get to those horses. Seriously, there were whole streams of running water crisscrossing around the yard now.
They were all shining there in the moonlight, like strings of jewels.
And as they continued to squish along through the puddles and mud, sidestepping the streams and branches along the way, he heard Carol murmur from down at his side, "thank you for taking me out."
"Yeah, yeah," he huffed back drily, "you know me, love a good midnight swim."
Once, she would've seen that remark as him being sarcastic and disagreeable . . . and once that would've been true. But these days, Carol saw the joke for what it was. And she immediately let out a chuckle, one that made his own lips twitch. Because he found it almost impossible now to not be happy when she was happy. And it had taken so long after that horrible day at the barn for her to smile again, let alone laugh about anything, he didn't take that for granted.
He tried not to take her for granted anymore either.
Because he didn't have much now with Merle gone. Yeah, he had the group, and he'd admit (though probably not out loud) that with the exception of Shane . . . who good Lord he wished would just drive off down the road and never come back . . . he had grown pretty attached to those folks. Some more than others of course, but Carol was special. Out of however many people were left on this earth, she was his favorite.
Period.
And though he wondered some days if maybe she might feel the same about him, he could never ask such a question. What he did know was that she was affectionate, and that she thought well of him. And she did also seem to be inclined lately, to seek out his company more than she did with anyone else.
That was enough.
It was just then that she reached over and slipped her arm through his. And by way of explanation for doing it . . . not that she needed to justify pressing her breasts against his side, he had no problem with that . . . she murmured how if she didn't hold on, she was going to fall on her butt. Of course two seconds after she said that, she did do a slip in the mud that sent her feet flying out from under her. But he gave her a hard yank up, and swung her around, before she actually hit the ground. And as she fell against his chest, nose first, she snorted out an embarrassed, "maybe this trip wasn't such a good idea."
But he just grunted, and slid his arm down to give her a light pat on the back.
"It'll be okay," he murmured with a glance up to the moonlight still cutting through the swirling clouds, "we're halfway there."
Really, they were a little less than halfway there, but they were making progress. Their boots were already soaked through though, and thick with mud. So no matter whether they turned around or kept going, their shoes were definitely going to need to be scraped off and hung over the fire when they got back.
And he was about to start them going forward again, when he noticed that Carol hadn't moved yet. She was still standing there with her hands pressed to his chest, staring up at him with those bright eyes of hers.
His brow scrunched a bit.
"What is it?"
A moment passed, and then another, but she didn't answer his question. She just kept looking at him, kinda funny like. And he was about to ask if she was feelin' okay, when suddenly that woman popped up on her toes . . . and she kissed him.
Right on the lips.
And he was so surprised that she did that . . . outta the God damn blue for Christ's sake(!) . . . that for a second all he could do was blink. But then his brain registered what was happenin', and reminded him that what was happenin' might not ever happen again . . . especially if he didn't stop acting like a fucking idiot . . . so he started kissing her back.
It was a little sloppy, and a bit awkward angle wise what with her half sunk down in the mud, but it was still a pretty damn good kiss. It was even better when she opened her mouth a bit, and he got to taste that sweetness in there. So he brushed just the tip of his tongue along the curve of her lower lip. Apparently she liked that, because then he felt her tongue come out to bump into his.
And fuck if he wasn't taking THAT as an invitation!
So he moved in for a little bit of tangling, and then he swept full into her mouth. Again he went with just a light brush to start, first on her teeth, right before he started to poke around a little more to see what she liked. And he could tell from the way her heart was pounding so hard against his chest, that she was liking pretty much ALL of what was going on in there! But then he flicked the tip of tongue up along the grooves on the roof of her mouth. That's when she let out a happy little moan. The kind like she hadn't made before.
The kind that gave him a kick right down there in his groin.
So feelin' a little bolder, he started sucking a bit on her tongue, and then nibbling her lips, and those happy little moans, they were pretty much non-stop then.
And God damn did he wish he coulda just stayed out there with her all night, but his lungs were startin' to hurt. Plus it wasn't real safe to be standin' out in a field in the dark, not paying attention to anything that could be creepin' up.
Especially when he'd just told Carol they needed to watch out for stray walkers.
So though he hated to stop what she'd started, finally he broke his lips away from hers with a gasp. And when he looked down to see Carol staring up with those blue eyes sparking with tears, but a big smile on her face of the kind like he hadn't seen in forever . . . since before Sophia was gone . . . he felt an ache for her. It went deep in his chest.
It was bad enough that he had to look away for a second, while he tried to catch his breath.
There were a lot of thoughts rollin' around in his head then as he looked over the shadowy fields, but he was terrified at the idea of trying to sort out any of 'em well enough to get actual words to come out of his mouth. He was afraid he'd say something wrong. Something stupid.
And then she wouldn't let him kiss her like that ever again.
So instead, when he finally got both his breath and his thoughts under control, and looked back down to Carol's pretty face, he just waited to see what she had to say. He had to wait a minute or so for that, because she needed to catch her breath, the same as him. But then she reached up to brush her thumb along his lower lip.
"I've wanted so badly to kiss you for the last couple of weeks," she whispered with a happy smile, "if I'd known you were that good at it, I wouldn't have waited for my courage to catch up to my heart."
Feeling his face start to burn then with both the heat of embarrassment, and more than a little pride, Daryl had to look off to the side again. But then he felt Carol's hand brush along his cheek.
His eyes snapped back to hers . . . she shook her head.
"I'm sorry," she murmured with a stroke of her fingers along his jaw, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, and I know I caught you by surprise just doing it out of the blue, but," she gave him a nervous smile then, "if you could just for now give me a nod at least, so I know that was something you wanted too."
For a second he just looked down at their muddy boots, thinking about all that he'd lost already . . . and all that he was terrified of losing in the future. Then his eyes darted off over Carol's shoulder, off to the tree that had sliced down into that two hundred year old barn. The barn where her dead daughter had staggered out, wanting to tear open her mama's throat with her rotted teeth. But then Rick had put a bullet in that child's head.
And that was the end of that.
That day Daryl had gone down in the dirt with Carol, and he'd stayed there with her. Stayed until long after the others were gone. He'd just held her while their limbs went numb, and their skin burned in the summer sun . . . and she'd cried like the world had ended all over again.
That day he was sure she would never smile again. But now here she'd just given one to him, with the kind of joy in it that he'd seen in her a long time ago. And knowing that meant something, that ache came back to his chest again. Then slowly, his eyes shifted back over and down to hers.
For a second he just looked into those swirling, watery blue pools . . . then he gave her a sharp nod and a faint quirk of his lip. And she gave him another brilliant smile in return. That's when she let her hand fall down from his cheek, so she could lean up to wrap her arms around his neck instead.
Then she pressed her lips to his ear.
"I won't ask you to have a big talk about feelings," she murmured, "because I know that's not something you want to do. But," she added with a huff then, "if you meant that nod, you better start hugging me back right now Daryl Dixon, or I'm going to feel really weird here."
It wasn't until Carol said that, that Daryl realized while she'd been talkin', his arms had just been hanging down by his side. Not because he didn't want to touch her, but because he was just not good at this kind of emotional stuff. He had enough experience with women after forty-one years, to know pretty well what he was doin' on the physical side of things, but when it came to all the rest of it, he was still practically as big an idiot now, as he was when he was sixteen. It was just hard to get that stuff right, when he never really felt that connected with anyone. It was different with Carol though. They were synced up in a way he'd never been with anyone else. And he was gonna try and be better for her.
Because she deserved the best he could give.
So he let out a slow breath while murmuring, "I'm sorry, and that was something that I've been wantin' too. It wasn't just you." Then he tipped his head down to hers, and moved his arms around her waist and torso to wrap her up in a tight hug. Then he leaned back a little to pull her out of the mud, and up off the ground. And feeling her warm, soft body relax against his as she let out a heavy sigh against his shoulder, he felt happy. Really, happy. So he actually held her like that, up in his arms, for a good minute or so, because he just didn't wanna let her go.
Again though, just like with the kissing, he knew they couldn't stay out there forever. Time was passing.
So was that eye overhead.
Which was the main reason he put her back on the ground. Then his brow quirked up a bit as he looked down and asked her softly, "did you still wanna go to the stables?"
She bit her lip.
"Yeah, I do," she tipped her head back to look around, "I mean if you think we still have time."
His nose wrinkled then as he looked up to the sky . . . still a bright moon, and swirling clouds.
Though the clouds were swirling a little closer now.
"Hard to say," his eyes dropped back to hers, "but I ain't never heard of a break that lasted more than thirty or forty minutes at the max. I think most are more around twenty though, so," his jaw twisted, "we could definitely be cuttin' it real close now."
Though he was only thinking of what was safe, and this was definitely not a safe storm to be stuck out in with no shelter, he did hate how her face fell then. Because he knew how much she loved those horses. One day when he'd come in to the stables to find her brushin' out Nellie's coat, she'd told him how they reminded her of growin' up in Kentucky where her daddy had had a horse farm. But that just after she and Ed had gotten married he'd cut her off from her parents, and she'd had no way of reaching them when everything fell apart. So she had no idea if they were dead or alive. Hershel's horses though, she said they made her feel better.
They made her remember the days when the world was still right.
Which was why against all his best judgment, without another word, Daryl found himself suddenly dropping his arm down to wrap around Carol's waist. Then he was pulling her along the muddy ground.
"If we REALLY run," he let out on a grunt, while lifting her up, and swinging her over a downed tree limb, "then we just might make it back not dead."
Though Carol didn't say anything back to that, he did feel how her hand fell down to cover over his arm where it was wrapped around her waist.
She gave his fingers a tight squeeze.
And she kept up with him, one muddy, slip sliding, doubled-time step after another. The rest of the way through the big field where they used to camp, then passed the chicken coup, and the other small, muddy field . . . and then the stables.
They were dead ahead.
But that wasn't the only thing that was dead right ahead. There was also a soaking wet, six foot something walker, in bib overalls, lumbering straight at them.
He was coming from the direction of the broken fence.
Daryl came to a stop so fast, he and Carol both almost went flying forward into the mud. But then he was giving her a shove behind him, yanking his bow off his shoulder . . . and letting that arrow fly.
It took Farmer John there straight through the left eye.
As his body flopped back into the mud with a notable "plop" sound, Daryl's wild eyes were darting everywhere around the fence line. Fortunately though, he didn't see any other not dead visitors, or evidence of their footprints in the mood right around them.
Of course if they'd wandered past while it was still rainin', the evidence woulda already been washed away.
The worrisome thing was, if they'd somehow gotten inside the stables. Which woulda been real bad for the horses . . . and definitely not something he'd want Carol to see . . . but at least with it mostly bein' open space in there, as he brought his bow back up and turned around, he knew if there were any walkers lumbering along, he'd likely be able to pick 'em off from the doorway.
So after a hushed whisper to Carol to stay right on his side, one step to the back, he started moving them around to the front of the stables.
Which was where he immediately saw that THANK JESUS(!), those two boards were still crisscrossing over that big wooden door, just like when he'd pounded them in there that morning. It was literally the last thing he did after the wind started to kick up, was to run down with Glenn and nail two, two by fours, over the stable doorway, to try and give the animals a little extra protection from whatever was coming. And they'd done that, because between the looks Maggie was giving to Glenn, and Carol was giving to him, there was no way they could just leave those horses alone for the duration, with nothin' but good thoughts, and one rickety old lock on the door.
Seeing though now, how the boards were still fine just the way they were fifteen hours earlier, Daryl figured that'd be good enough for Carol. At least this trip had shown the stables were still on one piece, and with the horses all sealed up inside, that meant they would be just as safe as when they were left just after nine-thirty am that morning.
His thought was a good one, but then he saw Carol up on her tiptoes with the flashlight she'd just plucked from his pocket, peering through the small gaps in the slats.
"Oh," she murmured sadly, "Nellie looks scared."
And as he let out a sigh, Daryl knew that once again . . . he was screwed.
How this had suddenly become his life, spending his days tryin' to keep another person happy, he didn't know. It'd never been something he'd expected to be part of who he was. If Merle was still around he'd say he was pussy whipped. But Merle had never really cared for anyone in his life, Daryl included, so his brother, as smart as he was in so many ways, would never have been able to understand what he felt for Carol. How it was like all his good days now were tangled up with hers. And when she cried . . . his world was dark. Really this world of walking death, was always dark.
The only real light in it for him came from bein' with Carol.
It was very possible he was in love with her. As he found himself at twelve something in the morning, prying that second two by four off the stable door with his bare hands, he was thinkin' that he probably was.
Really, why else would he be doin' such a STUPID ass thing as being out in a fucking hurricane?!
He'd never been in love with anyone before though, so he had nothing to compare his feelings to. All he knew was that when he dropped that second board on the ground, and Carol leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, he felt like her hero.
And he didn't wanna ever let her down.
So quick as he could, he got the regular slidin' lock unlatched . . . the doors bounced back with a clatter.
"Don't be rushin' around anywhere without me checking it first," he murmured with a glance over to Carol. And she gave him a little smile.
"I know," she answered softly, "stay on your side, one step to the back. And I hit you hard if I see anything I think you don't."
He found his eyes crinkling then, just before he shot her a smirk.
"Guess I just said that, huh?"
And she gave a huff of amusement as she reached out to touch his chest, "actually for the last six weeks, every time we've gone anywhere together, you've drilled that into my head. I even dreamed it one night."
Those words had no sooner left her mouth, then her cheeks started to blush as her eyes fell to the mud. So he had to figure that walker checks weren't the only thing they were doing in her dream. And thinking about that, he felt a pull for her down low in his belly.
That was a lot different than the ache that would come to his chest.
Either way, when he blinked and looked back into the dark stables, he knew they didn't have time to be thinkin' on such things right now. So he just gave a little wave of his hand, and she stepped in place like he knew she would.
Then with her holding the light, they did a quick walk through the stables, which he already knew were still clear, because the horses weren't dead. But when it came to keeping this woman safe, he didn't make assumptions like one thing always meanin' another. Because someday, maybe one thing might mean something else.
And that something else might be the thing that got Carol bit.
So they finished the check, then he gave her the nod and a little smile, so she ran over to Nellie and started cooing in her ear. And while she was doing that, he gave Bessie a pat on the rump and a rub down her back, 'cuz he could see how she was shakin' too. Then while Carol still with the flashlight, moved on to Bucky, Daryl stepped out and walked back down the dark passageway, and over to the open stable door. Because he knew a solid twenty-five minutes must've passed by now, so they were really pushin' their luck staying out any longer.
He turned around then and told Carol as much.
Of course she'd no sooner said, "I'm ready," when he felt a gust suddenly ruffle his hair. And feeling his stomach dropping, he stepped out the door, and looked up into the sky.
The stars had already disappeared.
And there, shit . . . he bit his lip as the world suddenly went dark . . . that was the moon. That's when the first big fat, warm raindrop, smacked him in the face.
A split second later he was getting' pummeled with 'em.
Knowing then there was no time to get back to the house . . . they'd lost the window when he'd missed the clouds comin' in over the stars again . . . he just ran out and grabbed up the two boards he'd yanked off the outside of the door.
It was time to see how well they did on the inside.
"Oh god, did I get us stuck here?!"
Hearing Carol's panicked hush in his ear, as her fingers clutched onto his vest, he turned to give her a tight smile.
"Ain't your fault Carol, it's mine. I knew we were too short on time, so I shoulda been watchin' out better." He slipped his bow off his shoulder then, and shoved it towards her.
"It'll be okay though. The horses have clearly been gettin' by just fine, so I'm sure we will too. Just uh," he jerked his head behind her even as he turned to get the stable door shut, "go to the tack room, and get me the can of nails under the bench," he slammed the door into place, "and the hammer from the wall."
His instructions weren't even totally out of his mouth, before Carol had turned and was running across the wet straw. That wet straw was the one thing that was giving him some real pause right then. Because unlike the big house, the 'ground floor' here in the stables, wasn't built to be water tight. The place was clearly built to last, and it been lastin' at least since the days of the Confederacy . . . or as his brother had called them, "the good old days" . . . but as he slipped the inside stable locks into place more by touch than sight what with it bein' dark as hell there, Daryl couldn't help but be focused in on he'd seen the ground right along the walls and the door, was all thick with heavy, wet mud, and surrounded by puddles. And it was clear from the soaked straw they'd walked through, that those rivers of rain water had been rolling in even further than that. In fact when he'd been in the stalls, he'd seen that even the horses' legs had been wet up to about an inch from their hooves. That wasn't particularly deep, but definitely deep enough to give 'em a scare. Not that he blamed those poor creatures.
Because if he and Carol ended up with water rising up above the tops of their boots, that was gonna likely put the fear of God into him too.
So when she came running back with the flashlight bouncing in her hand, and the tools he'd asked her to get him tucked under her arm, as he was taking those tools away, he told her to look around for the best place for them to hole up to stay clear of the floodwaters.
Him tellin' her that though, put a look of fright on her face that made him wanna kick himself in the balls for gettin' them into this. Because it didn't matter if this trip was her idea, he was the one that agreed to take her out.
This was all on him.
So before he could think about it, he leaned down with his head on a slant, and pressed a quick, hard, kiss on her mouth. It was all he could think to do to maybe make her to feel a little better. And when he pulled back, and he saw her licking the corner of her lip, his eyes crinkled faintly.
"It'll be fine, Carol," he whispered with a squeeze of her fingers, "because the pond is below us, and there ain't no rivers that close by to wash in, it's just the actual rainfall I'm thinking of, and that alone shouldn't rise more than maybe a half foot at most. I know that kinda sounds like a lot, but that's only worse case if the ground's too soaked to suck up the water at the rate it might be falling outta the sky. So that's why it's just better to be a little higher up if we can be, right?"
For a second she just stared into this eyes, as the wind around started to shake the door behind him . . . the gusts were kicking up again. And he could see from the angle of the flashlight beam, that there was still fear in those baby blues. But even with the wind now back, the fear was less now than it had been before when she was worried about the water. Then suddenly she took a deep breath, and followed that right up with a tight smile.
"I know where to go," she said with a firm nod, "there's a storage cubby in the ceiling of the tack room. I've never opened it, but the panel's right there. As long as we both fit, we'll be well off the ground."
"All right then," he tipped his head, "let me just get these boards up and we'll go see how squished we're gonna be."
Not that he'd mind squishin' up with Carol's soft lady bits. But the most important thing was if that cubby was safe from the wind. Because as he turned to get his boards nailed up . . . Carol immediately jumped around to hold them in place for him . . . he knew the thing about being up in the rafters, was the wind.
Especially when you were dealin' with the kind that could take a roof off.
Again though, this place had been around since plantation days, so odds were good the roof would hold. But still, he was just hopin' that cubby was buried somewhere in between the first level of horse stalls, and the second level of hay and feed storage. That way if a tree came down on them (the more worrisome concern than a total roof tear off) they'd be in a safe bubble.
So once the door was secure again, he grabbed the nails and hammer . . . because he'd feel like a dick if they got blown into the horses . . . and followed Carol down the hay covered path leadin to the tack room. She'd already left the door open, so with her shining the light for him, he returned the tools to the cabinet where they belonged, and tipped his head back to look up that ceiling.
And son of a bitch if she wasn't right . . . his lips pursed . . . there was a panel up there. It wasn't something he'd noticed before, but it really wasn't noticeable at all if you weren't lookin' for it. And he didn't spend near the time in the stables as Carol did.
"Okay then," he hummed to himself as he took his bow from her hands, "if I can catch that little indent there on the end to push it open, I think I can make it up there in a jump."
Carol let out a nervous chuckle at that.
"Superman flies in a hurricane, film at eleven."
His mouth quivered at the joke, but then he bit down on his lip and let out a heavy breath. Because he needed to focus. So he raised up the front end of the bow, and while muttering over to Carol, "hold the light steady," he squinted a bit to line everything up to catch the edge of the board.
Once he was sure he had the right spot . . . he gave it a bump.
And that board bounced back just enough for him to see a crack appear between the ceiling and the empty space beyond. The musty smell though that floated down then, told him that nobody'd been up in that cubby in a REAL long time. Which was when a thought popped into his head on what that spot mighta been used for, but he kept it to himself for the moment. And with that gap now opened, it didn't take much work to drag the board the rest of the way back into the built in grooves. That left a gap of about two foot by maybe three foot.
The three foot was if he was bein' generous.
Which meant it was gonna be tight on his shoulders, gettin' up in there, but he was pretty sure a little wriggling and he'd fit in just fine. So after he'd put his bow down on the work bench, he turned back to give Carol a look.
"Okay," he sighed, "I'll go up first, you pass me the light, and I'll check to make sure it looks like a safe spot. If it's good, I'll pull you up. If I don't like it," he shrugged, "we'll just hole up in here. The work bench is built into the wall, and it's sturdy, so we can just crowd up on there if need be."
"Right," she nodded, "okay." Then her brow furrowed a bit, "be careful you don't put your hand on a rusty nail or anything," she shot a look to the ceiling, "it seems like anything you might find up there would be really old."
"Yeah," his lip quirked up as he shook his legs out, "I'm thinkin' it mighta been part of the Underground Railroad."
And with that . . . and Carol's jaw falling open . . . he gave a jump.
His fingertips just caught on the rough edge of the plank, but with his upper body strength, that bit of plank was enough for him to get a grip. So with a slight groan and the expected wriggling, he pulled himself up until his head and whole upper chest, were there in the dark, dank space.
Course he couldn't see jackshit without the light.
So he gave his legs a swing like those gymnasts did, and with one final, muttered curse, he got his foot up high enough to hit the tack room ceiling. From there it was a little more wriggling to get his ass in and onto the ledge. Unfortunately that's when he sat down on something soft.
Something that slithered away.
OH SHIT!
He immediately flopped around, and dropped his arm back through the hole.
"FLASHLIGHT!"
The word came out in a bit more of a bark than he'd planned, but he had images in his head of takin' a rattler bite to the ass, and then Carol being stuck with him dying in the stables for the next six hours.
That was not the hoped for next stage of their relationship.
So the second she'd shoved that cold metal into his hand, he yanked it up into that hiding space . . . and he was sure now that's what it was, a hiding space . . . and spun around to see where that snake had gone.
Not far.
But that's because there really wasn't any place for him to go. At least not with the size he was. But fuckin' praise JC himself, it was NOT a rattler he found himself keeping company with, just a big fat, black rat snake. Probably a good six footer. And . . . his wide eyes darted around the small enclosed space of maybe six by four foot with a low slant ceiling . . . apparently it was a momma, 'cuz he'd just spotted a couple, three babies over in the corner just behind him. The access panel of course had to pop open on that side of the hidey hole.
Lucky him.
"Carol," he hollered over his shoulder while keeping a close eye on Big Mama, because she was eyeing him eyeing her babies, "I need you to climb up on the work bench for a minute!"
"Um, okay," she called back hesitantly, "but why?"
"Because," he let out a faint grunt as he got up on his knees and started pulling his work gloves out of his back pocket, "I'm about to drop a couple of big fat rat snakes through this hole, and I'm guessin' you don't want them falling on your head."
"Oh shit," Carol sputtered as she leapt up onto the counter, and yanked her legs up so her knees were to her chest, "oh, no, I don't want that."
"Didn't think so," he muttered back with a dry grunt while pulling on his gloves, "just give me a second."
It actually took closer to a minute to get the momma caught (bitch tried to bite him, twice) and dropped down into the wet straw below. Then he moved over and grabbed up what turned out to be four babies. Though at three foot something, and each one as fat as a dill pickle, those "babies" were still a good size even for little ones of their kind.
But one after the other, he caught them by the head, and leaned far out the hole to let 'em fall those few feet down onto the soft earth.
He knew there was no way they could get hurt fallin' that short distance. But he could hear Carol letting out a little moan . . . the bad kind, not the good kissing kind . . . each time one of 'em hit the floor. Really though, being down there in the dark with them, knowing they were there, but not being able to see 'em, yeah he knew from very recent experience that was not a fun thing. Wasn't nothin' he could do for her right then though, except work as quick as he could.
So that's what he did.
And once he was sure that hidey hole was clear of slithery critters . . . and he'd knocked the loose snakeskins and the clumps of spider webs down through the hole as well, 'cuz he didn't think Carol would appreciate those either . . . he moved back to flash the beam down into the tack room again. His nose wrinkled.
Because now the place just looked like that Indiana Jones movie with the snakes movin' all over the floor.
And when Carol saw those suckers all down there slithering about, she let out a squeak, just before she looked up at him with a pout. His expression immediately softened then, and he leaned down far enough for her to see his face.
"Honey, it's okay," he soothed, "they ain't poisonous. I promise. But," he pointed to one of the pitchforks hung up on the wall next to the bench where she was curled up with his bow, "if you get the pitchfork there, and then just give 'em a nudge towards the door, they'll get moving on out. And if they seem a little snippy about moving," he shook his head, "they don't have any kind of strike on 'em, so the worse you'll get is some grumpy hissing."
"Grumpy hissing," she mumbled into her chest as she started to shimmy over her butt to grab the pitchfork from the wall, "you remind me of that phrase the next time I ask you to take me somewhere dumb and do something stupid."
His mouth quivered then, but he kept his comments to himself, instead figurin' it would be most helpful if he just held the light still while she got her 'snake pusher' free. And after she did, she steadied herself on the work bench, so she could give her new friends a shove towards the door.
As expected, "grumpy hissing" did result from that . . . but they got moving.
And as the last one slithered out into the main part of the stables, Carol jumped down from the bench, and ran over to slam the door shut. Then she braced the pitchfork against it.
He burst out laughing.
"What?" he snorted, "You think, they're gonna break back in again?!"
Seeing her hand up come up then to cover over her giggle, Carol tipped her head back to give him a sheepish smile.
"I panicked."
He shot her a grin.
"Yeah, I got that." Then he sobered a bit and put his hand out, "now come on, bow and arrows first. Then I'll yank you up."
"'K," she muttered while moving over and raising her arm to pass him up his crossbow. Just after she'd let go though she let out a little, "ooh, wait," and pulled her hand away again. Then she hurried over and pulled open one of the cabinet doors. When he tipped his head to get a better angle, Daryl could see that inside there, was a shelf with a short stack of wool blankets.
The extra riding blankets.
"Good thinkin'," he murmured as she loaded her arms up, "the boards are kinda rough up here."
"Well," Carol turned around with a sigh, "I was actually just thinking I didn't want to sit in snake droppings, but it'd be nice to avoid getting splinters in my backside too."
Though Daryl was thinking he wouldn't mind helping her out with splinters in her backside if she needed the assistance, he kept that thought very much inside his head. Instead opting to just put his hand out . . . first for the blankets . . . then for Carol.
Given he was pulling her up as a dead lift, even though she didn't weigh much, it did take a bit of a yank to get her top half up through the opening to the hidey hole. But once she was high enough to get her feet braced, she gave herself a push just like he had. Except with him already pulling her along, she came popping through the ceiling with a bit more oomph than he was expectin'.
He ended up tumblin' onto his back, as she fell on top of him with a grunted, "sorry."
"Ain't nothing to be sorry for," he answered quietly while marveling a bit at how when they landed, all her lady parts had lined up just right with his counter ones. And she apparently picked up on that about a second after he did, because that's when she gave him a shy smile. One that he was fortunate to be able to see, 'cuz the hidey hole space was so small, the beam from the Mag light bounced back off the angled walls, to light the whole place up. And she was just so pretty, he couldn't stop himself from reaching up to brush the back of his hand down her cheek. God knew he wanted to kiss her again right then, but those splintery old boards were pretty rough sticking into his back. And knowing that they had a stack of blankets there to make what he was thinkin' about doing, a much more "comfortable" experience, he just bit his lip.
"We should put the blankets down."
When he said that, she blinked. Like that wasn't quite what she was expecting. But then she swallowed and put her hand down on the dusty floor to brace herself.
"Right," she murmured while shifting to the side to get off of him, "yeah, we should do that."
Then she let out a sigh as she rolled back and up onto her knees. And with the wind now whistling around the boards, as he reached out to grab up the top square on that stack of wool, he saw her brow scrunch up with a faintly worried look.
"You think it's safe up here?"
"Yeah," he nodded as he gave a snap to the blanket in his hand, "actually I do. Because we're in a gap space between the stalls and the loft, and if I'm right," he gave a look around at the ancient wood, and the cobwebs filling the corners, "about this maybe being a place used for hiding slaves, they woulda made sure it was built solid, and as soundproof as they could make it."
Seeing Carol bite down on her cheek at that, right before she gave him a nod, he turned to lay the blanket out. Then from behind him though, he heard her clear her throat.
"And you don't think there are any more snakes?"
His eyes crinkled a bit as turned again.
"Naw," he shook his head, "it's only a little space with no places to hide, so I'm sure I got 'em all. There are probably some spiders in the corners," he threw a quick glance off behind her to the remnants of the webs, "but they should mind their business if we mind ours."
"All right then," she let out on a huff while passing over the next blanket. That time it was a pretty red and blue Navajo print. Daryl kept that one folded, and put it down to use like a pillow. Then Carol handed over the last from her short stack, a plain grey.
He kept that one in his hand.
"You wanna lay down and I'll cover you up?" He asked softly. And she looked at him for a second, and then at the little bed he was making on the floor.
"Are you going to lay down with me?"
Hearing the nerves in her voice when she asked him that question . . . it was like she was worried about something . . . his attention dropped to the blankets, and then back over to her again.
"That was the plan," he answered in the same quiet tone he'd used a moment before, "unless that's not your preference."
By way of answering the question he didn't really ask, Carol reached out to touch his cheek.
"Being close to you is always my preference," she whispered.
Before he could respond to that, she let her hand fall down to the floor, and scooted around him to get onto the blanket. After she'd put her head down and rolled onto her side, he leaned over to cover her shoulders. It was when he started pull that wool down further, that he noticed she was still wearing those soaking wet boots. And knowin' that wasn't good for her, she could get sick, he quickly undid the laces, and pulled them off her feet. And feeling that her socks were just as soaked as the boots, he stripped those away, squeezed them out over the hole into the straw below, then laid 'em on the ledge to dry.
When he turned back around, without even thinking about it, he started rubbing Carol's feet to warm them up again, 'cuz he'd felt her toes, and they were much too cold.
Suddenly hearing Carol sniffle though, his eyes snapped up to see her giving him a teary smile. Then she whispered with a crackle in her voice. "You always take such good care of me."
For a second he just looked at her, studying the angles of her face made by the shadows thrown by the beam bouncing off the slanted walls. Then he went back to rubbing her feet.
"You take good care of me too," he murmured while pressing his thumb along her arch, "always making sure I eat right, mending my clothes," he bit his lip, "keeping me company even when I think I don't want it." He let out a slow breath as he reached out to pull the blanket down over her feet, "I appreciate what you do." His eyes snapped up to hers then, as a soft smile touched his lips.
"You make me really happy Carol, and I shoulda told you that before."
It was hard having a conversation like this, talking about things in a way that he wasn't accustomed to doing. Because the world he'd grown up in, that kinda thing just wasn't done. Of course in that old world, he'd never had anyone like Carol to even be grateful for. If he had . . . he took a deep breath . . . he might've turned out different. Because being around her made him want to be better than he was.
He just kept trying to be that man she seemed to see.
And when she gave him another bright, watery smile for what he said, right before she reached her hand out to pull him down onto the blankets, he knew what she wanted. So he leaned in to give her another kiss. Though that time when she tried to deepen it, against his best instincts, he had to pull away.
"Sorry," he apologized with a wrinkle of his nose, "but I gotta take my boots off first."
She shot him a grin then as she reached out to run her fingers through his hair.
"You sound like a cowboy," she giggled with a tickle of his earlobe.
His mouth quivered a bit at that just as he pulled away, and turned around to peel off his own wet boots and socks. Again, he squeezed the drips outta everything, and spread it all out to dry.
When he turned around again, to his surprise he found Carol sittin' up, and sliding her bra strap down her arm.
Her sweater and top were already laid out on top of the blankets.
And as she shifted and stretched to get the hooks on the back, his eyes widened a bit when those beautiful full breasts began to spill out of the cups. It'd been so long since he'd had sex, he could feel his dick immediately start to get hard. It was like he was fifteen again. And though he so badly wanted to touch her, instead he curled his fingers up, and dropped them down to his knees. Because even though they'd clearly shifted to a new place in their relationship, there was something they still needed to talk about.
And they needed to do that first.
So as his eyes snapped back up to hers, he asked the big question on his mind.
"Can you still have babies?"
That might've seemed kinda blunt to just blurt it out, but he had no idea how old she was, except somewhere round his age. And he knew some ladies in their forties still had babies, and some did not.
And he could see how her lip quirked up, that at least she wasn't mad at him for asking. Then she nodded.
"Yeah, and up until the Spring I was always really careful with my birth control. I got those uh," she brought one hand up to cross over her breasts . . . she tapped her other arm, "shots. But um," she bit her lip as her hand fell down again . . . though she kept her arm across her chest, "my last one was in May and my period's been back for more than a month, so I'd have to say that the effectiveness is totally worn off now. But," her eyes started to water then as her voice cracked, "I still want to risk it if you will."
Feeling that ache in his chest come back . . . it always did when she was sad . . . he climbed over to lie down next to her on the blanket. Then he reached out and slipped his arms around her body, and pulled her to his chest. And as she buried her face against his throat, and his fingertips stroked along the bare skin of her back, he whispered in her ear.
"Please don't cry, honey. It makes my heart hurt when you're sad."
Unfortunately his plea for her not to cry, had the opposite intent. Because that's when she let out a muffled sob against into his shoulder.
"You see," she sniffled, "it's because you say sweet things like that to me, that's why I'm willing to risk it. I just want to be with you."
Not knowin' what else to say right then that wouldn't just make her cry more, for a moment Daryl just held her close, keeping up that light brush of his fingers along her skin. All the while he was wondering how a person so tough to survive what she had, could be so soft to touch. And though he really wanted nothing more than to make love to her right then, that baby thing was a problem for him. Because he didn't have any condoms, and odds were good he wasn't gonna be able to GET any condoms. And he wasn't fool enough to think if they just did it one time, or he tried to pull out before the end, that meant they couldn't still get pregnant. And bein' pregnant was a REAL big thing these days.
Especially with their particular history.
Knowing though how he needed to explain himself some on this point, he took a deep breath, and let it out.
"I just gotta think on it for a bit, Carol," he spoke in a way to try to keep his words on a gentle tone, "because even with Lori already being pregnant and knowin' we'd all be pitching in there, I hadn't thought about ever bein' responsible for a baby in this new world that was really mine to uh, well," his voice started to thicken, "keep alive." He pulled his head back then to catch her eyes . . . the tears there were already spilling over.
"I can't have you lose another child, Carol," his voice cracked, "that'd kill you. And then that'd kill me. So," he swallowed, "let's just lay here for a minute, okay? Because we gotta be really sure we could handle a little one if that happened. And we ain't talked about anything like this before, so it's kinda makin' my head spin thinking about it now."
"I know," she sniffled, "believe me I know. And I've really been thinking about this a lot the last couple of weeks. And if a baby happened, I could handle it. Because we're safe here. But the main thing is, we can't stop living just 'cuz," she swallowed as another tear ran down her face, "well, just because my Sophia died," she shook her head, "I don't want to be a shell of a person. If I'm going to keep fighting to be in this world, I want to try for a full life again," her voice crackled, "and I want to feel you inside me. But," she took a deep, shuddery breath then, "I know I kind of surprised you tonight," she brought her hand up to start scrubbing at the tears on her cheeks, "just bringing up all of these things you haven't had a chance to think about yet. And I'm sorry for that. But," she bit her lip, "I just didn't know how to bring it up before. Because I wasn't sure if maybe you uh," she swallowed, "well, if you only thought of me as a friend. That's why I kissed you," her voice faded as she gave a small shrug, "I figured if you weren't interested, that'd be the easiest way to find out."
His expression softened then just before he tipped his head down to kiss her temple.
"It was a good plan," he said with a whisper, "but so you know for the future, all you ever gotta do is tell me what you want, Carol. Because you know I ain't the type to start these conversations."
"Yeah," she huffed a bit, "I figured that out when you didn't take any of the hints I've been dropping the last few weeks."
His brow scrunched up in confusion.
"Hints?" He repeated, "what hints?"
And he saw her bring her hand up to her mouth as she let out a nervous laugh.
"Didn't you notice how many times I've asked you to take me for a walk after dinner? It's been like every night for nearly a month. And then I asked you to help me look at the clothes in the attic, and to get the canning supplies out of the cellar, and then all those mornings I just couldn't carry the eggs back from the henhouse by myself," her mouth quivered, "you didn't think any of that seemed strange?"
For a second Daryl just stared at her, and then he started to shake his head.
"No," he answered slowly, still thinking about the question, "'cuz for the walks, you said that with the nice cool weather now we should take advantage. And the clothes in the attic, you couldn't carry that trunk yourself, and the same with the canning supplies. That was a big box. And," he shrugged, "okay I guess you coulda carried the eggs yourself but," he bit his lip as his voice got quiet, "I just thought you liked my company."
"I do like your company, you silly man," Carol huffed with a watery smile, "even when we're doing nothing but gathering the eggs, I love being with you. That's all I want," her voice faded off, "is to be with you."
Daryl blinked and looked down, and when he caught Carol's eyes again, his were watering a bit.
"You really wanna be my girl?" He whispered still with a faint note of disbelief in his voice that she'd picked him not just for a literal roll up above the hay . . . but for real. Because that's not how his life had worked to date. But she just reached up to brush her thumb along his lip.
"I already am your girl," she answered with a watery, smile, "that's what I've been trying to tell you."
That ache came back for then, but in a new way. In an all consumin' way. Because this was all he'd been wantin' this last month . . . her.
Turned out he already had her.
And if he had her for real, and if they could stay here on this farm together with the others and build some kind of life that wasn't constantly surrounded by death, then that made the idea of maybe havin' an unplanned little one, a bit less scary. So that's how he found himself letting out a slow breath just before he leaned in to capture Carol's lips again.
First it was a gentle kiss, and then there was a little tongue . . . and then she started to moan. That's what pretty much did it for him. And as he shifted over to straddle her thighs, her hands went to his hips, and his hands moved up to start caressing those perfect breasts of hers. And they really were perfect. They fit in his hands just right.
Like he and she were just made to go together.
And as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples, her back arched and she moaned again. And though he really didn't want to break that kiss, he knew the rest of it would go faster if they did.
So he pulled way with a gasp, and a nod.
"Okay," he panted, "okay. We'll live with however it goes."
That's when she shot him another of those brilliant, teary smiles . . . then her hands were sliding off his hips and pulling at his belt. And while she was working on that, he started on his shirt buttons, because even if that wasn't key to the process here, he wanted to feel those perfect breasts pressed against him.
By the time he had his shirt and vest off, she had his pants and boxers all the way off his hips and halfway to his knees. The problem there was, she was still all zipped up down below like she had on a damn chastity belt. And the way she was stroking him in her hand . . . even though it felt REALLY FUCKING GOOD(!) . . . he was a worried that she was gonna get him off, before he got her pants off! That was the problem with not gettin' any for so long.
It was real hard to hold your wad!
And when she brushed her thumb along his tip, he had to freeze as his eyes snapped shut. Then he let out on a hiss, "honey please, you gotta stop for a second." Her hand stilled, and when his eyes popped open again, he saw her curlin' her fingers.
Then she pulled them away.
It was with her fingers still curled, that she crossed her arms over her breasts. That's when she gave him a little smile, like she understood.
His eyes crinkled as he leaned down to give her one quick peck.
"Thank you," he murmured against her lips, even as he started workin' to get her pants undone. Fortunately she wasn't wearing a belt, so after he got the zipper and the snap, with her help, he had them off in about twelve seconds flat. And though he knew they were goin' quick, that seemed to be what she wanted too. Still, he wanted to make sure he was careful not to hurt her. So before he took that last step, he brought his hand over and slid it along her hip, and then down between her legs.
She was wet, but just to be sure she was ready, he stroked his middle finger along her already swollen clit. And when she sucked in a ragged breath, he gave it another stroke . . . and then another. And then she let out a moan of "Daryl, please," just as he felt the moisture now pooling on his hand. He figured from that, they were good to go. So he let his hand slide out to her hip again, as he murmured, "okay honey, okay," and leaned down to catch her lips again.
That time she immediately hooked her arms around his neck, as she lifted her hips. So he shifted his own hips back, and with one hand on her waist, and the other bracing himself down on the blanket, he lined up . . . and slid in.
They both gasped.
For a second he just froze there, feeling that warm space, holdin' him so tight. It felt so good. But he knew it could feel even better than that. So his wide eyes snapped down to hers again . . . he could see the lust there on her face.
"You ready?"
And she gave him another of those smiles that made him feel like the world could maybe one day be something beyond the horrible place he knew it was. Then she sucked in a raggedy breath as she lifted her leg up to wrap it around his back, "I'm ready."
"All right then," he panted out with a soft smile as he brushed his thumb down her cheek, "let's do this."
A/N 2: There will be a post script here, and the plan is to shift that to Carol. Mostly because it was sort of an accident that this ended up being all from Daryl's POV. But with this being a new universe and a 'new Daryl' to get to know, by the time they got to the stables, I realized I hadn't left Daryl's head, and I liked the rhythm I was getting by just staying there, and getting his take on Carol and the others at this point in time. But like I said, we're not starting another big story here, though I might pop into this universe again with another one/two shot rolling around this timeframe of them already coupled up. Could be fun :)
And I decided to put this coupling where I did because I wanted to have one story where they got together in canon after Sophia was dead and how that would impact them in a special way. Because I know 'baby fic' is usually a fluffy plot device but for these two I personally think a baby would be a real obstacle because Daryl would be terrified of not being able to keep that child alive and what it would do to Carol to lose another one. And the season two reruns have been on the last couple of weeks so all of the farm stuff was fresh in my head. Especially that stable :)
I did give it some thought about whether having sex in the place where they were having sex could be considered 'inappropriate.' Because I was going to move them if it was :) But then I decided that A) they don't really know if that's what the space was used for, and B) even if it was used as part of the Underground Railroad, that would have been a "safe space," not a place of abuse or torture. Besides that though, Hershel might tell them that ancient cubby had a whole other purpose!
So, hope you liked it! And I always love to hear from you guys! )