Author's Note:In case you missed it, this is a PWP ficlet (originally a deleted scene that's been adjusted to stand alone), sort of like the first Daryl/Jules story. Rated M for sexual situations and most likely some language. If you're looking for something with some depth, this probably isn't going to suit you. lol

Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm

"Come in," she said. "I'll give you shelter from the storm."

After days of constantly moving once they'd been forced off the farm, the group of survivors were too exhausted to mourn. Rick had been driving them hard, but with good reason. They were gathering supplies, hitting house after house and taking what they needed. They cleared the area, swept for anything useful, and moved on. They never stayed anywhere for more than a few hours. Nobody talked about the missing and dead. The objective now was clear: look to the future and stay alive.

As they trudged through the woods in the middle of a downpour, Hershel moved ahead and walked alongside Rick, no doubt trying to convince their leader to find shelter until the thunderstorm passed. They'd left their cars on the highway a few miles back so they could search the honeycomb of dirt driveways that made up the little country community of Pecan Ridge without worrying about getting stuck in the mud.

Jules trailed the group, never getting far from Daryl after the night at the farm. She looked over at him, blinking away raindrops and pushing her sopping hair out of her face. She'd thought she'd lost him that night, but when they'd all caught up together on the highway and she'd heard that damn motorcycle, she'd nearly wept with relief. He'd gone back after Carol, risking his life to save her the way he was unable to save her daughter.

And he'd argued that he wasn't hero material.

He glanced up, catching her eye and tilting his head in question. She gave a quick shake of hers, letting him know that everything was okay, and he turned away. Jules could see a break in the trees and a quaint little two-story not too far ahead. Rick stopped the group and nodded at Hershel before turning and addressing them.

"Alright, listen up. Same procedure as always—we go in, clear, and search for supplies. If it's safe, we'll hole up there for the night and move on at first light. Nobody goes alone, got it? Lori, you and Carl stay with Carol and Beth on the ground floor. Hershel, you stay with 'em in case there's anybody lingering. Glenn, T, and Maggie check for any basements or cellars. Daryl, you, me, and Jules will check up top."

"A'ight."

They cleared the house without much effort. A few walkers had stumbled down the basement but had broken legs on the stairs, so it was just a matter of taking out their heads. Rick came upon one in a bedroom on the second floor and had taken care of it with the little hatchet Jules had found a couple of days before. Daryl had gotten one through the eye with an arrow on their way up the stairs and got caught off guard by one in a closet, but between bashing it with the butt of his crossbow and Jules going after it with the hatchet she'd retrieved from Rick, it had been dispatched.

Once the windows and doors had been secured, the group split up to scavenge. Jules slung her near-empty backpack across her shoulder and headed for the stairs. She searched the clothes in the closets, having grown accustomed to pilfering through other people's belongings. She stuffed a few things in her bag that might fit some of the smaller members of their little troupe, as well as some fresh clothes for herself and maybe Daryl. One of the rooms had belonged to a child and she called for Carl, showing him the clothes and talking him into trying on some shoes. She ruffled the boy's hair—which he hated—and left him to venture down the hall. There was a small bathroom at the end of the hallway with a simple sink counter and a bath. Jules checked the closet and after about a .0122 seconds, decided that she was going to use the shower and one of those fluffy towels as soon as she'd finished her sweep. She opened the medicine cabinet and swiped the contents into her bag. They could check the labels later.

She shut the mirror and jolted at the sight of a person behind her. "Jesus Christ," she breathed, slamming a hand over her chest. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, Daryl." He mumbled an apology that was augmented by the smirky little curl on his lips.

"Did you find anything good?"

"Some meds. Dunno what. And a bunch of clothes. You?"

"Couple of boxes of shotgun shells in the master bedroom. Lori found some food in the kitchen. They're fixing some dinner."

"Good. I could definitely eat." She smiled at him and sat her bag on the floor. "Guess what else I found?"

"What?" he asked, his blue eyes narrowing curiously.

"A bathtub. With a shower." She opened the closet door. "And look! Fresh towels." She took out two towels and washcloths.

"Woman, ain't nobody got time for that." Daryl crossed his arms, trying to look stern, but Jules was already fiddling with the shower curtain.

"There. Want me to wash you?" she teased.

"Julia, don't you think there's a little bit more important things to do right now?"

"No. We're grieving, the whole group. We're raw. But if we stop living, we start dying. We are safe tonight, Daryl, and we're currently covered in mud, blood, and walker pus. Who knows when we'll have a chance to bathe in hot water again?"

"Cold water works just as well. If you want to take a shower right now, before we eat or sleep, you go right ahead. But I'm—what are you doing?"

Jules pulled her soaked sweatshirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor with a wet plop. "Maybe I'm being selfish, but I want to take a shower. Right now. And since you're obviously a six-year-old who refuses to bathe, I'll just do it by myself."

"I bathe," he muttered. He sighed as she continued to strip and kicked the door shut when he caught sight of Carl paused in the doorway of the bedroom at the other end of the hall. He swatted her bra away when she flung it playfully at his head. "You ain't got the sense God gave a turnip," he said, but he felt his resolve melting with every bit of white and pink flesh she revealed. When she shoved the wet denim of her jeans over her hips, he slid his bow from his shoulder and shrugged out of his vest.

"What do you think you're doing? You missed your chance, bucko. The window of opportunity has closed," she said as she bent to turn on the faucets.

"Uh-huh." Daryl hooked her around the waist before she could and drew her against him, running his calloused hands up her torso as she straightened. He ran his whiskered cheek along her throat as he cupped her breasts. "I'll fuckin' break that window in if I need to."

Jules turned in his arms and draped her arms over his shoulders. "Hm. Is that right?"

He backed her against the cabinet until she scooted up onto the surface. He hooked his hands beneath her knees and tugged her snugly against his body. "Yes ma'am, it is," Daryl assured her.

Jules smiled at him, wondering at the multifaceted soul she was in love with. Before all this happened, had he been playful like this more frequently? She didn't know and wouldn't even venture a guess. Her hands moved to the buttons of his ratty old shirt—swear to God, it'd had sleeves when he'd found it. As her fingers worked the buttons through the wet material, Daryl tipped his head down do kiss her shoulder. He gently bit and licked at her skin, making Jules's heart stutter. He took her hands, drawing them away from his shirt before urging her to lean back a bit. Jules braced her hands on either side of her body and leaned back as much as the counter would allow, offering her breasts up for his attention. Her head lolled to the side as he drew one dusky tip between his lips, teasing it with his tongue and teeth. She laid a hand in his damp hair, drawing him closer. She gasped sharply when he bit a tad harder with his cuspid, and her hand tightened, reflexively tugging his hair.

She struggled to sit up. Daryl reluctantly released her breast and straightened. He grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt over his head while Jules was busy with the button of his khakis. When he was unfastened, Jules pushed past him and turned on the shower. "Boots. Pants. Off."

"I ain't done with you yet."

Jules laughed. "You are 'til you get in the shower." She squealed when he tugged her toward him and ground against her hip. Had it been anybody else, the action would have been obscene, but Jules just laughed harder, reveling in Daryl's rare playfulness. "Ew! Babe, you're so gross right now though!" She broke his light hold and danced out of his reach.

"C'mere." He reached for her again, but she stepped beneath the warm spray and shut the curtain. "Julia Elaine, you're a witch." In answer, her underwear flew over the curtain rod and hit him in the chest. Daryl shucked his boots, socks, and jeans before whipping the shower curtain back. Jules was already taking advantage of the fruity shampoo, lathering her hair with her head thrown back, making deep, throaty moans of appreciation that caught Daryl in the gut. She lifted her head and smiled saucily.

"You gonna stand there all evenin'?"

Daryl stepped beneath the spray, hissing between his teeth when the warm water touched his chilled skin. He quickly washed his hair and slicked it back so he could watch as Jules brought a soapy washcloth to his chest, cleaning his skin with long, lazy strokes. Daryl kept his eyes on her face, enjoying the the sensation he got from watching Jules touch him. He'd screwed women before all this had happened, but he'd always been too fucked up in the head to get too attached to one. Jules made him feel different. He felt...wanted when he was with her. Like she didn't care that he was all scarred up and rough and calloused. Still, when she'd finished with his chest he tried to take the cloth from her, but she held tight.

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "Turn around."

"Jules."

"Daryl." She held his gaze, sensing the shift in him. She knew how self-conscious he was of the scars that crisscrossed his back. No matter how many times they were together, he did everything he could to make sure that she had little contact with the ruined skin. It was time to put that shame to rest. She laid a hand on his shoulder, gently massaging his skin. "Let me." He turned around, but he didn't look too happy about it. Jules soaped the back of his neck and shoulders, kneading his tense muscles with her fingertips. "Better?"

"Guess so."

She swished the sudsy cloth down his back and around his ribs. As the water rinsed away the grime, she leaned forward, resting her cheek on his shoulder blade and wrapping her arms around his waist. She felt him relax, little by little, growing more comfortable with the intimate nature of Jules's attentions. Poor baby Daryl was growing by leaps and bounds and she doubted he even realized it. He exhaled a shaky breath as she continued bathing him and Jules smiled. She turned her head and kissed his tattoo before lifting a hand and tenderly brushing the raised skin of his scars. If he wasn't already dead, she'd love nothing more than to track down the sonofabitch who did this to his child and kill him herself. She replaced her fingertips with her lips and felt a shiver roll through Daryl's body. She dropped the washcloth and ran her other hand over his stomach, lazily trailing her fingers up and down. When her hand dipped lower and wrapped around him, he growled low in his throat.

"Not much room in this shower, Jules."

She gave him a testing stroke, smiling against his back when his fists clenched. "Looks like there's plenty room."

Daryl gave a strangled chuckle and propped against the shower wall, leaning his forehead on his arm. He pulled his other arm back and at first, Jules thought he was trying to nudge her away, but his wet hand just slid between their bodies. His fingers probed her flesh, seducing her, before dipping between her legs. It was her turn to gasp. Her hips arched subtly as Daryl's fingers teased her. Her strokes on him became for confident, long and slow, with just the slightest twist. They were both panting, their bodies synchronizing their pushes and movements to a naturally familiar rhythm. Jules turned her face into the skin of his back and bit lightly, pressing closer and wantonly rubbing against him.

He turned then, pulling out of her grasp and reaching up to cup her face between his palms. He urged her against the back wall of the shower and Jules squeaked against his tongue as her back hit the cold tiles. Daryl took her hip, drawing her flush against him, before bending and hooking a hand behind her knee. He lifted her leg and draped it over his hip as he rolled forward and sank into the silky warmth of her body. Jules grasped blindly at his shoulders, her eyes clenched tight against the waves of pleasure that radiated from her core. Daryl bent his head and tongued her breast, placing a few quick, nipping kisses across her chest before he straightened and buried his face against her neck while stirring his hips with each thrust.

Jules felt her supporting knee begin to tremble. "Gonna—gonna fall," she gasped. Daryl pinched the delicate flesh of her throat between his teeth and she tightened her hold on him, moaning.

"I got you, girl," he growled. He stilled his hips and cupped her ass, lifting her so that she could wrap both legs around his waist. He supported her and leaned forward a bit more, changing angles as he resumed grinding into her. He felt her tensing around him, felt the urgent rise and fall of her hips. "Come on, Julia. Come for me."

Jules tightened her arms around his neck and pressed her chest into his, burying her fingers in his wet hair and clenching her eyes shut. She released a keening cry that Daryl quickly covered with a hot kiss as he pushed her over the precipice and into a soul-shaking orgasm. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and continued riding him until a moment later he claimed his own. They leaned against the shower wall, kissing and struggling for breath.

"Fuck."

"Always such a way with words," Jules croaked with a lazy smile.

"Can you stand?"

She sighed, not really wanting to move. "I guess." She slid down to stand on wobbly legs. She leaned up to give him a light kiss.

"Better get downstairs," he said. "They probably got dinner done."

"You got some dry clothes in my bag."

"Aight." By the time Jules washed up and shut off the taps, he had toweled off and was buttoning a pair of battered jeans. Jules dried and pulled on some underwear and a clean t-shirt before finger-combing her hair and plaiting it. Daryl watched her work, chewing his lips. "Hey." She looked at him from the mirror, tilting her head in question. "What you said earlier, 'bout dyin'...don't say stuff like that."

She turned to face him. "Oh, honey. I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't. But still, you ain't dying. I ain't letting nobody else die."

God, how could he make her heart dance and break at the same time? She wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek over his heart. "Baby, you can't say that. God forbid, if any of us does die, it ain't your fault."

"It's my job to keep y'all safe," he said, closing his arms around her. "It's the only damn purpose I serve out here."

"Uh, I disagree." She rested her chin against his sternum and blinked up at him. "You serve quite a number of purposes. And I'm not even talking about the personal ones," she added, trying to lighten his mood. "Daryl, don't you know how important you are?"He shuffled his feet and kissed her, ready to dismiss the conversation. He'd had enough of sharing and caring tonight. Jules sighed and thumped him before stepping away and pulling on her jeans. "What do you think we should do with our wet ones?"

Daryl scrubbed a hand through his hair and shrugged a shoulder. "Fuck it. They'll keep 'til the morning."

She smiled and opened the door, jerking to a stop when she nearly collided with Lori, whose hand was raised to knock. "Oh! Jesus."

"Sorry!"

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. I was using the shower."

"How was it?"

"It was...good."

"I might get one myself, later on. I was just...oh. Oh," she said when Daryl opened the door the rest of the way and realization dawned. "Sorry. I, uh, I was just gonna let you know dinner was ready."

"Great."

"Great," Lori repeated, smiling awkwardly. She turned and went back downstairs as Daryl pulled on a clean shirt.

"Good, huh?"

Jules looked at him over her shoulder and grinned. "Aw, shut up."

His lips curved into a satisfied smirk and he slung his bow across his chest, reaching out and slapping Jules on the ass as he brushed past her. "Yes ma'am."

AN2: The thing I'm working on next is more like the last one, an actual plot, less with the sex. It's always fun when "quickie characters" take root and demand a little bit of substance. I hope you guys aren't tired of Jules. She's sorta wormed her way into my heart, so I don't know how long she'll be around-hopefully a while!

Thanks for reading!