Reaching up to rub at something in his eye, Daryl cursed when the irritation only became worse, kicking out at the covers on his bed in frustration. One in the morning and he couldn't sleep. Why? Because he was a stubborn asshole who'd avoided a shower out of spite since they'd arrived. Because he didn't fit in here and he saw no damned good reason to pretend he did. A mild itch turned into a burning sensation at the feel of his grimy fingers rubbing at his eye. What made it worse was knowing Carol had been right. He did need a shower. But for damned sure he wasn't going to take one when everyone else was around. Alexandria might have houses with private bedrooms and even more private bathrooms, but he still didn't want to run into anyone as he was exiting. As such, he'd brushed her off when she ordered him to take one, no matter that he was starting to get fed up with his ownstench.
Damn he reeked.
That's it.
He pulled himself up and gathered up a spare set of pants and a t-shirt. No way was he walking around in the damned dark with just a towel around his hips after. He hadn't become walker bait for nothin'.
Daryl crept silently down the hall, past Michonne's, Rick's, Carl's, Maggie and Glenn's and lastly, Carol's rooms. His footsteps slowed as he passed her room and for a moment, he strained his ears, trying to discern any movement in the room. Was she awake? Or asleep, like the rest of the house? The woman was quick on her feet and, from what he knew since he'd met her two or so years ago, an incredibly light sleeper. He wanted some privacy when he took a shower and he sure as hell did not want her to wake up and give him shit for being right.
The bathroom was at the end of the hall, the only one on that level, besides the en-suite in Rick's room and there was no way in hell he was going in there. He was not wakin' up that baby. Asskicker could scream when she didn't get her sleep. He walked in and felt around the darkened room, getting his bearings, banged his knee on what felt like the toilet, and cursed. Shit, he'd forgotten the light. It had taken them a long time to get used to having light again, electricity. Who knew that it would become this thing, this commodity, precious and reserved, at the end of the world.
Blinking at the brightness, Daryl set his towel down on the sink and reached beyond the curtain, twisting the knob to hot. He'd always been one for hot showers, though he'd had to settle for lukewarm when he could get it, cold when he couldn't. Truth of the matter was, he hadn't wanted to take a shower, not only because it would make them weak, but mainly since it was a luxury he didn't want to get used to. This whole damned place was a gold mine that would eventually collapse and be destroyed, he was convinced. And he didn't want to become accustomed to it. He didn't want to miss it. Couldn't miss what you'd never had, he thought, a twist to his lips quirking their surface. Or hadn't gotten used to.
As the steam rose in the shower, Daryl began to methodically strip. Shirt, pants, socks, underwear. When he was naked, he reached in and tested the water. Hot, almost to the point of unbearable. Jus' the way he liked it. Daryl stepped in and raised his face to the spray, closing his eyes and allowing the blessed heat to soak into his skin, warm his cold bones, saturate his dirty hair. A wordless sigh passed his lips as he blindly reached for the bottle of shampoo on the ledge. A few fumbles and he grabbed it, but instead of finding a full bottle, or hell, even a half or quarter full bottle, he was surprised to find it light. Empty. He shook it, upending it, trying to get the last dregs of the stuff out. No luck.
Cursing colorfully, Daryl opened his eyes and blinked at the water running into them, then stepped out of the spray. He stepped out dripping wet and chucked the empty bottle in the nearby trashcan. Opening drawers and finding nothing, he bent down and wrenched the cabinet open, frustration at his hot shower being thwarted making him take it out on the fixtures. Finding what he was looking for, he grabbed both the shampoo and conditioner and grimaced at the fruity scent the label boasted. Mango pineapple. What the fuck. Yes, because THAT would help when he went hunting later this week. Damn scent would broadcast his location a mile away.
Just as he was about to head back into the shower, he heard a faint something outside the door, barely heard above the drone of the shower behind him.
Creak.
Shuffle.
Creak.
Shuffle.
Shuffle.
Creak.
What was that?
Unconsciously, Daryl's muscles tensed, prepared for a fight, adrenaline rushing into his veins. They'd been in Alexandria for only a few days and although he'd not seen evidence of walkers, even though they'd sworn not a single one had ever gained entry, there was always a first time for everything and they had the worst luck possible. Every time, every single time they found a place, thought they'd found a place worth settling down in, something came along and ripped it to hell. The quarry. The farm. The prison. Terminus.
And now here they were, in this place, this golden space that hadn't been touched by the hell outside the walls. Daryl's lips tightened and his jaw clenched. No way in hell was he going to let something tear this down now. Not when they'd just found it. Never mind the fact he didn't trust it, not really. It was a safe space for the kids to grow up. For them to slow down a bit. Take a breath.
Ain't no way.
Daryl quietly opened the top drawer again. He hadn't brought his crossbow in (that'd be the first thing he'd rectify when he took care of whatever was behind that door and drawing closer.) but he'd do well with a sharp pair of…tweezers?
Fuck it.
He'd make do.
Reaching the door, he swiftly pulled it open and lunged into the darkened hallway, smacked right into a body, barely registered it as warm, before a breath expelled against his cheek. Momentum carrying him forward, he slammed the body into the wall, hand changing trajectory and embedding the tweezers into the wall adjacent to the person's head.
"Daryl, wh-"
"Fuck, Carol, don't sneak on me like that. Thought you were a walker!" he growled.
"I was on my way downstairs to get a glass of water," she said tartly. "You're the one overreacting."
"Yeah, well all's I could hear—" Daryl's voice drifted off as his adrenaline decreased exponentially and he became aware of their situation.
He was naked. As the day he was born.
And he was pressed up against her, sandwiching her between him and the wall. Carol seemed to realize their positioning as well and her mouth snapped shut. Daryl took a breath, sharp and shallow. Holy fuck. He'd not been this close since he'd hugged her impulsively after Terminus. Heat rushed into his face and damned if his ears weren't burning.
Fucking blushing! He weren't no kid anymore. What the fuck.
Starting to feel the beginnings of things stirring, Daryl quickly pulled back so they were no longer touching, but didn't move away enough for Carol to get a look. Darkness or no, he wasn't giving out a free show.
"So, um, can you, uh, tur—" he started but stopped at her raised eyebrow.
Carol kept her eyes level on his, though he thought he saw a flicker down then back up. Her lips quirked up, eyebrow still raised. "Didn't realize we had any modesty to preserve."
God knew that was the truth. He'd seen more of Rick's, Glenn's and Abraham's hairy asses than he'd cared to in the last few months on the road. A chuckle, a slight roll of her teasing eyes, and then she slowly turned around. Keeping his eyes on her, Daryl started to back away slowly, watching her body for any indication she was going to turn back around and see what he'd shown only in private moments and when he was a kid, with his mama.
"I'm going now, but Daryl?" Carol said, an airy, lilting question in her voice.
He barely grunted, fumbling with the doorknob now that he was within reach. Jus' need to get his towel and his damned clothes on…there! In he shuffled backwards.
"You have nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed of. Not in that department," she alluded, a smile and snicker in her voice.
Daryl was left in the open doorway, mouth gaping, absolutely stunned, unable to even vocalize his standard "stahp." It was only later as he was passing her room again and heard soft sounds that he realized the direction she'd turned had been not toward the kitchen.