Author's Note: This is just a little something that popped into my head after my obsession with "The Walking Dead" was reignited over the course of the last week. Depending upon the initial reception, I was thinking of keeping this as a collection of short (and long) one-shot drabbles…
But who knows? Only time will tell. Thanks for giving this a shot.
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Walking Dead". If I did, I'd be off living on a beach somewhere with Hugh Jackman as my cabana boy.
The Definition of an Impulse:
Daryl needed to make himself hurry up. In and out. No use in wasting water, something that had become a precious commodity since the world had gone to hell all those months ago.
Just a few more minutes, and then he'd be on his way. But a whole hell of alotta good it did, seeing as he couldn't seem to get his legs to move.
…..
{Earlier That Day}
They'd spent the better part of the day clearing out the dozens of Walkers who had, in the absence of real living, breathing people, decided to take over the prison and everything in it.
The cell blocks. The corridors. The rec yard. The mess hall. They'd even found a couple holed up in the closest, feeding on each other. The whole damned scene had been enough to make your stomach turn.
Fucking Walkers.
It had been tough, but they'd managed. Now the group had a place to eat, to sleep, do laundry—a place to call their own.
In Daryl's humble opinion, it was as close to heaven as they were gonna get. So why the hell did he still feel so damn uneasy? What the fuck was wrong with him?
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Carol. He saw her barreling through the front door of the mess hall, into the kitchen and straight into the arms of three fucking zombies.
He and the others had barely made it in time. They'd barreled around corner in what felt like record time, only to watch has Carol carefully dispatched them herself. The damned woman had taken on three Walkers and won.
Sure she'd been shaky after, barely able to speak, but she'd held her own. And the group had been proud. T-Dog and Glen hadn't been able to contain their twin looks of surprise, and even though Rick had gently scolded her for what Daryl would later refer to as a "stupid-ass decision", it was clear that he was all too pleased at Carol's newfound strength.
She'd basked in the praise, her smile never wavering until her eyes met his. One look, and she'd known she was in trouble.
"I'm fine, really. Look"—she'd held up her arms, mostly for Daryl's benefit—"No cuts, no scratches. Most of all, no bites."
"Yeh got lucky." He'd snapped, to the surprise of everyone else. "Was stupid of yeh tuh come in here by yerself."
"I can handle myself. I am perfectly capable." She fired back as she wiped her dirty knife on her pants.
He pointed one of his free arrows at Rick. "I tol' yeh she shoulda stayed in the cellblock with Lori and the others."
Rick met his glare with one of his own. "Now Daryl, you and I discussed this. As much as I don't like it, we need every able-bodied person we have to help clear out these fucking Walkers."
"Well yeh got me, Maggie, T-Dog, Glenn and Carl. How many more damned people to do ya need? "
"We need a whole damn army. But as it stands, all we've got is you, me, Maggie, Glenn, T-Dog, Carl and Carol. " By now they were standing nose to nose. "It is what it is. You might not like it, but you need to deal with it."
"Ain't a whole hell lotta use puttin' people in danger when they got no business bein' near it in the first place—"
"That's enough, Daryl Dixon!" Carol hissed, clearly annoyed with being talked about as if she wasn't standing right there. "I appreciate the concern, but where I go and what I do is my decision. I can handle myself, so you don't have to worry about trying to protect me all the damn time. She took a deep breath, held it. I'm not your problem anymore. I'm nobody's problem.
"Never said yeh were. Just don't feel like diggin' another fuckin' grave, that's all. Yeh think you can handle yerself cuz you know how tah swing that little pig sticker at a couplah Walkers, you go right on ahead. Like yah said, s'not my fuckin' problem." He snorted before turning on his heel and all but stomping out the door.
"He's right," Rick agreed. Carol's smile faltered. "Coming in here alone wasn't the best decision, but you proved you could handle yourself. "
Their gazes locked as his hand came to rest gently on her shoulder. "You're an important member of this group, Carol. We've already lost enough people we care about…wouldn't wanna lose you too. So just be careful. "
Carol nodded. "I'll do my best."
"Good."
Rick secured the safety on his gun and began making his way toward the door. "And remind me not to piss you off when you've got a knife in your hand."
She didn't bother to hide her grin.
…..
That night, Daryl didn't come to dinner. He didn't join in with the others as they celebrated their newfound fortune. Instead he'd stayed up in perch, cleaning out his crossbow and carving new arrows.
Rick and T-Dog had tried their best to include him in the festivities, which consisted of hot meal that, for once, hadn't entirely consisted of squirrel, followed by a bottle of fancy whiskey they'd found hidden in the warden's office.
"Look what we found!"
"Good for fuckin' you." He'd grumbled when Glenn waved the open bottle under his nose.
"But dude! This is good shit." Glenn proclaimed as he took another swallow. After some coughing and sputtering he finally managed to choke it down.
"What the hell yeh know bout 'good shit' when yeh can't even drink it? Man up, China Panda."
"Ah, fuck you, Daryl." Glenn responded good naturedly. If you change your mind, you know where to find us."
"Won't, but thanks."
He quirked a brow as Glenn ambled uncoordinatedly down the steps. His speedy Korean friend was already tipsy. Well fuck. If he wasn't already in such a shitty mood, he'd have been halfway tempted to join him.
Daryl came to his feet and stretched as he surveyed the room. Everyone seemed more relaxed than he could ever remember seeing them—everyone except Carol.
Where the hell was she?
He'd thought about looking for her. You know, check in. Make sure she was all right. But by the time he had descended the stairs he'd thought better of it.
The woman had been right. She wasn't his fucking problem. If she didn't give a shit about her own fucking life then why should he? Fuck it.
He was going take a fucking shower and forget all about the woman who'd managed to worm her way into his heart without even asking. Daryl cursed under his breath, and kept cursing, all the way to the showers—hoping against hope that he'd somehow be lucky enough to run across a Walker…or five.
Fuck if he didn't need to kill something.
…..
Daryl cursed under his breath and reached for shower knob.
Fine. If the woman didn't want him around, he'd fuckin' leave her alone. He'd be damned if he followed some bitch around like some mindless fuckin' dog. As far as he was concerned, she could kiss his—
Two soft arms wrapped themselves around his waist, causing Daryl Dixon to nearly jump out of his skin.
"…The fuck?!" He gasped when the person in question proceeded to rest their head on his bare shoulder.
"Shhh…"
She grasped his length, stroking him until he was hot and hard against her palm.
"Carol? Shit—what the fuck yeh doin?"
"Damn it, Dixon." Carol's teeth gently grazed the tender spot between his shoulder blades. "Just go with it."
He turned to face her and was somehow surprised to find her completely naked. In the shower. With him. Now he was real fuckin' confused.
Daryl opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again. Still nothing.
"Don't worry about it." She whispered as her arms wound themselves around his neck. Carol pressed her lips to his, surprising them both. He groaned, and tried not to be caught off guard when Carol quickly deepened the kiss.
Calloused hands skimmed their way down her body, caressing each and every inch of skin. Daryl cupped the smooth curve of her ass and effortlessly flipped their bodies so that her back was against the wall.
"Shit…"
She cried out at the feeling of cold tile against her skin, but kept her legs locked around Daryl's waist.
"Are we doing this?" She gasped. "Is this happening?"
"Yeh started this sweetheart." His lips nibbled a path from her breast to her ear. "I intend teh fuckin' finish it."
Carol whimpered as his fingers found their way between her thighs.
"With yer permission a'course." He grinned.
Her quick smile was all the permission he needed.
He entered her a moment later and quickly found a rhythm. Daryl buried his face in her neck, while Carol hands soft, warm hands lost themselves in his hair.
"Daryl please—oh God…"
"Yeah, baby?" His mouth sought her breast again and she found herself arching to accommodate. She tasted so fuckin' good...
"Can you make me—make me—please?"
His nimble fingers returned to her clit, gently stroking and rubbing until he felt her muscles clenching around him. He strained against her, trying to keep himself from going over the edge before Carol.
"Fuck—fuck—fuck!"
Daryl's voice sounded rough and raw, even to his himself.
"Go over fer' me baby." He rasped against her ear. "Go over."
He held her to him as she found her release. His own consumed him moments later as Carol's sweet little body milked him for all he was worth. Together, they sank to the floor—still breathing hard, their bodies intertwined.
Carol snuggled deeper into Daryl's chest, not bothering to hide her grin. He made no move to stop her.
She'd told him to "just go with it". And that was just what the fuck he was gonna do.
He sighed and rested his head on top her own.
…Even if it meant his ass going numb.
END
Author's Note: Well…what'd you think? Should I continue? Let me know! Oh, and thanks for reading! ;o)