He is so surprisingly tender when he kisses her. It's not that she thinks he is rough or feral, she knows that underneath that cold-blooded walker-killer façade, he is a good, kind man who cares far too much about the people around him in dangerous times like these. It's just that looking at him, there is nothing soft about him, the sharp angles, the strong arms, the scars all over his body, that contemplative and slightly threatening look he always wears.
He doesn't look like the kind of man who would softly trace her cheekbone with his thumb, his other hand on her waist, holding her close as his eyes search her face hesitantly, wondering if this is what she really wants.
And yes, this is what she really wants.
She has wanted him for far longer than she dares to admit to herself and she has denied herself him for almost just as long. It never seemed right with everything that always seem to happen just when everything had settled down.
Mostly Carol just didn't want to risk their friendship, the support he somehow unconditionally gave her. It was too valuable for her to throw it away on some crush, on unimportant feelings that could only distract them from the one goal they all had in this hellhole of a world; survive. Besides she had been perfectly content to continue their friendship the way it was with harmless flirtations and a supporting shoulder bump when either of them needed one.
But after Rick kicked her out of the group, after Mika and Lizzie, after Terminus, after that rib-crushing hug he had given, tears in his eyes, his smell so painfully familiar underneath the grime and the blood, after seeing him again when she had been afraid that the memory of him would have be enough to sustain for the rest of her no doubt short and violent life, she decided that things were going to change.
Apparently Daryl had the same idea.
In a life this brutal, this unforgiving, there is no time for regrets. Not anymore.
When their lips finally meet, so softly, so carefully, as if both of them are afraid that walkers are going to ambush them, because when was the last time either of them was allowed to have anything nice without it being ruined, Carol knows that she doesn't regret this one bit. She only regrets not doing it sooner.
Daryl makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and Carol can feel it travel through her body. She raises herself up on her toes and wraps her arms around his neck, feeling the length of his body press against her own. She swipes her tongue over his lips, asking for entry. She doesn't want a chaste kiss, she doesn't want careful. She wants to kiss him as if this is their last night together which, knowing this world and its cruel sense of humor, it might very well be.
He tightens his hold on her waist and on her back of her neck and parts his lips, his dry lips rough against her own. She doesn't care that they both desperately need a shower or that it's been too long since they've been able to properly brush their teeth, because this feels wonderful, it feels perfect in its imperfection.
The deepening of the kiss, tasting him, feeling him moan quietly into her mouth as they taste each other, as they hold on for dear life, it makes her feel alive, wanted. It makes her feel loved.
She doesn't know how long it will last. Maybe tomorrow they'll go back to being friends for the sake of their safety, but tonight, they have each other. Tonight, Carol thinks as she starts to push his vest of his shoulders, they will take what they want.
Sometimes people like them deserve it.