Disclaimer #1: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Disclaimer #2: This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Tags: *Carol Peletier/Daryl Dixon, *Rick Grimes, *Michonne, *Maggie Rhee, *Glenn Rhee, *After 06x11 "Not Tomorrow Yet", *Angst, *Smut, *Masturbation, *UST, *Feels, *Happy Ending

Summary: Whispers in the night, unrequited feelings, the question of should they or shouldn't they. A quest to comfort her gets slightly out of hand which leads to misunderstandings and more than for which either Daryl or Carol bargained.

Rated: E

A/n: My darling friend Mels – BettyBubble to you lot :D – sent me a naughty prompt. Loving her as I do … how could I say no? I never dreamed it would grow this out of control (though it really shouldn't surprise me). This one's for you, sweetness!

We Can't Do This Anymore …

By:

CharlotteAshmore

Chapter One: The Green-Eyed Monster

His hands dug into the ivory wood of the window sill, glaring out over the quiet streets of the community. Daryl's teeth gnashed together as he fought the urge to smash his fist through the double-paned glass. How could she?! That was the question clambering against the walls of his cranial cavity with unrelenting force. How could she kiss that fuckin' lumberjack? That asshole cain't keep her safe … ain't even on th' same level of badass as her. And from what he'd heard from Abraham about the shit which had gone down at the construction site – willing to leave Francine to the walkers – he didn't want Carol anywhere near him.

But it was her choice, and it rubbed him raw. It was his own fault. He'd felt her closing off more and more since they'd left Atlanta, and he had no one to blame but himself. Daryl raked a hand through his damp hair, pushing away from the window to pace the carpet. Life out on the road after Grady had done them no favors, the fear, hunger and loss of hope they'd all suffered. He was so tired of losing people.

When he'd found her after Terminus, he'd had hope they could move forward, but after they'd lost three more members of their family before finding themselves ensconced behind Alexandria's walls, they were lucky the sanity of their group had somewhat remained intact.

Carol had taken on the persona of Suzie Homemaker, and frankly, he didn't know who the hell she was anymore. She kept to herself when she wasn't working on some covert mission to benefit the group. It had seemed innocent enough, more than familiar with her need to keep their family safe, but now he wondered if it was just another excuse to push them away … to push him away. And he'd let it fucking happen! He'd been so busy running off with Aaron or Rick, doing shit which needed to be done; runs, recruiting, fighting off assholes in burned out forests … gawd, the list was endless. He hadn't realized how far he and Carol had drifted apart until he'd seen her … he'd fucking seen her sitting on that porch, her lips glued to that prick's!

It took every ounce of inner strength Daryl possessed not to imbed his fist in the drywall separating their bedrooms. He hadn't said a word – really, what could he have said – turning on his heel and leaving the gates to cool off in the woods. Rick nearly had a stroke when he hadn't been able to stop Daryl from leaving, but he had given no fucks as he'd disappeared into the solace of the trees. But not even the blessed relief of nature could calm the storm brewing within him, his brother's chortling and snide snickers ringing in his ears of jealous pussy not helping in the least.

His fault … In the beginning, if he hadn't been so goddamned scared of losing her, thinking it was better not to give into his feelings because it would hurt less when he eventually lost her, he never would have found her in the arms of another man. Carol would have been his. Gawd, I'm such a stupid prick! He loved her so much, it was going to kill him either way. Stupid, stupid, STUPID! Argh!

Daryl had taken out his frustrations on the few walkers roaming through the surrounding area and hauled himself back home well after midnight. He'd seen Carol's light on from the crack beneath her bedroom door as he'd made his way to the shower, but the knowledge she was home, safe in her own bed instead of staying the night with Tobin only raised a new barrage of questions he hadn't appreciated.

"Fuck it," Daryl growled, searching through his jacket pockets - where he'd dropped it over the chair in his room - for a cigarette. He felt caged, held prisoner within his own thoughts, and would welcome the heady comfort of nicotine coursing through his veins. It was late, going on two if the battery-operated clock on his nightstand was correct, so there was little worry he'd wake his family. Shoving the half-full pack of cigarettes into the pocket of his pants, along with his lighter, he stared down at his bare feet, toes curling into the carpet and the sleeping pants clinging to his hips. He wouldn't even have to worry about someone coming upon him in his semi-dressed state.

Daryl flung the door open peeking out into the hall to make sure the coast was clear, and Rick wasn't sneaking through the house in search of cookies again. He could make his way downstairs and out to the front porch to have a smoke with none the wiser, and hopefully clear his head enough to get some sleep. After that deal Maggie had made with the leader of the Hilltop community, they were going to busy preparing on the morrow.

He'd barely taken a step out into the hall when he heard it …

Daryl closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto his shoulders, some of his anger giving way to stronger emotions … pain, concern and the need to comfort. It had been a long time since he'd heard Carol in the grips of a nightmare, but it was a sound he'd never forget. Her tears had always had the power to break him. He reached out a hand, gripping the knob firmly to ease the door open, unable to let her suffer alone despite how furious he might be with her.

He wasn't prepared for the sight which met his gaze, thankful she couldn't see him there standing frozen at the door. Definitely NOT a nightmare. His tongue darted out to wet his parted lips, the breath hitching painfully in his chest as he watched her busy fingers caress the delicate pink folds between her parted thighs. Fuckin' Christ! Daryl couldn't take his eyes from her, miles of creamy skin, bared to his lustful gaze.

Daryl raked her from top to toe, taking in the lacey pink camisole she wore in deference to the warmth of the room, her knickers having been tossed on the rug next to the bed. Her other hand rested on her breasts, fingers plucking at the taut bud of her nipple which pressed against the lace, and he cursed silently, feeling his body respond. There was his woman … No, goddamnit, she's not mine … getting herself off because her new idiot loverboy couldn't get the job done, while he stood there trying to crush the door knob in his fist. His rage reasserted itself, turning his vision red as his upper lip curled in disgust. He should turn around and go back to his room, leave her there to take care of things on her own.

However, he wasn't thinking clearly, to say the least. Would she be embarrassed to see him there? Would she feel guilty and say nothing? Or would she welcome him to finish the job Tobin hadn't been able to satisfy the first time? He wanted to bury his face in her hot dewy heat and feast on her until she screamed his name and forget all about that jackass one street over, wanted so badly to show her it was him she needed, him she loved.

Daryl didn't give two shits about shying away from her, his fear of intimacy nonexistent in the face of his anger. He wanted what he couldn't have. And then a short gasp echoed through the stifling stillness of the room, her body ceasing its feverish movements, drawing his gaze to her wide horrified blues. Caught … busted oglin' her in a private moment. Fuck it! He waited for the tell-tale feel of mortification to burn his cheeks, yet it never came.

A little whimper escaped her throat, pushing past her lips amidst ragged breaths as he took an involuntary step forward. "Daryl …" she croaked, her tongue darting out to leave a wet trail over her lips, pulling her hand from her still-throbbing core, the other reaching for the sheet to cover herself. A firm shake of his head had her hand stilling in mid-air, and she dared not disobey, too stunned at his presence to do more than stare, afraid if she did he might leave. And that was the last thing she wanted at that moment.

Daryl's name on her petal-soft mouth broke him. His heart battled with his mind, anger dueling with his need to fulfill her. I should leave her wantin' waging war with Show her what we could be. In the end, it was his heart which won the siege, though a healthy dose of his anger lingered.

Carol's eyes swept his body as he moved closer, widening when they settled on the tent he was making in his pants. Oh, c'mon, woman … like y' don't fuckin' know what y' do t' me all th' damn time with those gorgeous smiles and teasin' innuendo. He grasped her wrist firmly and pulled her to a sitting position, ignoring the sound of protest fluttering in her throat as he slipped into the bed behind her.

His calloused fingertips slid from shoulders to wrists once, twice before he brought her hands up to cross over her chest. He laid his left arm over the both of hers, so she would hold the position, pulling her back to rest against his chest. Despite his less than gentle touch, he kept his wits, refusing to hurt his woman.

Carol tilted her head to the side when she felt his warm breath tickle the shell of her ear, shivering as he rubbed his scruff against her soft skin. The arm not holding her immobile against his chest drifted lower, his fingertips playing over her warm body like the strings of his crossbow. She gasped, arching her hips as his hand covered her core, the heel of his palm pressing over her mons.

"Daryl … I –" she moaned, but he was quick to cut her off. He didn't want to hear anything but consent pass those sweet lips.

"Shh …" he hushed her. "Jus' need t' know one thing … y' want this, Carol? Tell me now. Y' want me, an' I'll stay."

She trembled in his arms, turning her head to bury her face against his throat, her voice a needy whisper. "Y-Yes."

His eyes slammed closed as a surge of lust flooded his cock now nestled against Carol's perfect ass. Fuck, what the hell am I doing?! And it was his brother's voice which answered in the recesses of his mind. Yer showin' yer woman it's you she shoulda chosen, baby brother. Daryl's arm tightened around her, his lips whisper soft against her neck as his fingers trailed through the light dusting of hair covering her mound. She tensed slightly, and he could feel her hesitancy, but she once again relaxed into his embrace, her chest rising and falling with what he hoped was excitement. He traced her slit, teasing her, never so happy Merle Dixon had been his brother. No matter how much Daryl had bitched and moaned being forced to listen to tales of his brother's sexual exploits, he was thankful they were embedded in his memory, so he wouldn't fail his woman.

Carol's back arched as much as possible within the confines of his embrace as his touch grew bolder, fingers dipping inside for the little bundle of nerves he knew was the epicenter of her pleasure. It throbbed beneath his questing fingers, begging to be caressed. He circled it slowly, tentatively as he waited for her response.

"More!" she gasped, her voice a breathy whisper, hips pressing up against his hand. "Please, Daryl."

Goddamnit! She's gonna make me cum in my pants like an untried teenager, for fuck's sake! Daryl gnashed his teeth together, a vivid image flashing across his mind of just where she'd been earlier … or rather who'd she'd been with. Well, she sure ain't thinkin' about that asshole now, is she? A low growl crawled its way out of his throat as he explored more of her, his fingers circling her entrance before delving two inside. He nearly swallowed his tongue as her hot wet walls clenched around them.

She struggled to break his hold, but it was too secure. There was no way this would end well if he allowed her free reign to touch him, and he didn't want to expose her to the unbridled fury still simmering beneath the surface of his skin. The sounds she emitted were driving him wild, but he couldn't seem to rush through this. He wanted her to remember his touch and the feel of his body molded to her back as his fingers set a steady pace, pumping in and out of her, driving her closer to her peak.

This what y' want, sweetheart? Daryl bit down on his lip to cage the words behind his teeth. He wasn't about to bare his soul to her, so she could laugh at him. His breathing became just as labored as hers the higher she climbed in her pleasure, wriggling incessantly against his erection. Daryl felt the overwhelming need to get out of there before he embarrassed himself.

"Cum for me, Carol," he purred against her ear, the pace of his fingers quickening. "Let go … I wanna feel y' come for me."

Carol cried out, the sound muted as he covered her lips with his. He didn't want her waking the entire household, and why deny himself this tiny concession? To let the taste of him linger on her lips and rid her of all thoughts of the idiot lumberjack?

When she'd sufficiently recovered, he eased Carol to her side and covered her with the sheet. Daryl's head was a mess now that his anger had somewhat subsided, the only thought on his mind was the need to get away. He needed to clear his head, and he couldn't do that if he stayed with her.

"Daryl …" she called out to him, the uncertainty in her tone causing him to pause with his hand on the doorknob. "Don't go."

He didn't have a choice, refusing to look back as he headed to his room. Fuck … what th' hell did I jus' do?

*.*.*

Carol stared at the door, eyes wide and lips parted, still trying to catch her breath as she watched Daryl walk away. "What the hell just happened?!" she croaked, her throat dry as the desert.

She reached for the water bottle she kept on her nightstand and gave herself a hard pinch. Nope, I'm definitely not dreaming, she thought wryly. Really, she'd known beforehand, her fantasies never having been quite so vivid. She took a long drink and capped the bottle before lying back on her pillows to rake a trembling hand through her sweat-dampened curls.

This was not what she'd expected when she'd come home that evening after Rick's little meeting in the church and an impromptu stop at Tobin's. God, she groaned, Tobin. That had been an epic disaster. Since their arrival in Alexandria, she and Daryl had been pulling away from one another. It seemed as if they didn't even talk unless it had something to do with some covert operation, pooling their resources to stay one step ahead of the Alexandrians. Even after her cover had been blown with the appearance of the wolves and then the ensuing devastation from the remnants of the mega-herd, they couldn't seem to find their way back to each other.

Tobin was a nice enough guy – safe – and he treated her with respect, and yes, even a little bit of awe. She was so tired of not feeling anything. It seemed as if every time she tried, her heart was broken just a little more. Carol scrubbed her hands over her face, inwardly cursing her stupidity. She never should have kissed him …

Carol tried not to flinch as Tobin's lips met hers, willing herself to feel something. It felt like she was kissing a dead fish! No spark, no fire, no heat whatsoever. It wasn't like it was when she was with Daryl, she admitted to herself. She could brush a kiss to his brow and feel her blood ignite. He was who she wanted, not this gentle man who had no clue as to how to survive in this new world.

She pulled away, fighting her instincts to wipe the taste of him from her lips. "I'm sorry … this was a mistake," she apologized hastily.

"No, it's ok," he rushed to assure her, clasping her hands in his.

Carol shook her head, firm in her conviction, already castigating herself for such an error as she pulled her hands from his grasp. "No, it's not. I –"

"Yes, it is … I feel it too."

Her lips quirked sadly, still not wanting to hurt his feelings. "But I don't."

Tobin sat back, a furrow appearing between his brows as he rubbed his hands anxiously on his jeans. "Oh … so, uhm … why did you kiss me?"

Seeing the genuine hurt in his eyes, Carol felt bad for him, but not so horrible she wanted to pretend with him. "I was trying to feel something. It's been a long time since my husband died." God, please don't let me puke! "I'm sorry, I just … I just can't."

Carol had left him sitting there, feeling like an ass for leading him on. She should have known it would be useless to try when Daryl was so firmly embedded in her heart and soul. It didn't matter how far apart they'd drifted since joining this community … it was still him she wanted, him she loved. She'd gone home and climbed into the shower, wanting to scrub the entire encounter from her skin, feeling as if she'd betrayed the man she loved. He'd consumed her every thought until she'd laid down on her bed and let them pull her into her fantasies of him.

Carol had thought – for the briefest of moments – she'd drifted off without realizing, leaving her to drag her fantasies to be lived out in her dreams. She hadn't hesitated to reach out for him, drawing him in, reveling in his touch. The way he'd molded himself to her back, a familiar comfort from having shared his bedroll more than once and woken to find him spooned against her. Oh, how she'd wanted to touch him too, to hold him and caress his weathered skin. He'd set her aflame, and she'd never wanted it to end, but why … why had he done it?

What had made him come to her room? Had she made a noise or unconsciously called his name? Daryl had always been the one to soothe her from her nightmares … Oh, god! This was her fault!

Her teeth sank into the soft tissue of her lip, trying to quell the tears forming behind her lids. What if he'd somehow felt obligated to do what he'd done? He didn't want her, did he? It was no wonder he'd run. The tears flowed freely as she curled onto her side and wrapped her arms around her knees, desperately fighting to stifle her sobs. He'd run from her, she silently wailed, and now would do his best to avoid her.

How would she ever be able to fix what was now more broken than ever?

A/n: Sooo, should I continue? I'm sorry I've been away so long. First I was recovering from foot surgery, and then we moved house, so it's been crazy since the end of February. I haven't forgotten about 'Threads', but when Mels asked me to write this for her, I just couldn't say no. I promise to get back to that one when I'm done with this. Thanks for hanging in there with me. Great big shout out to my betas BettyBubble and Geektaire. I cannot live without you, ladies. Mwah! Reviews are love! Thanks so much for reading!