He wanted to start over, simple as that. They'd been handed a second chance in a world that didn't give second chances and he wasn't about to waste it, waiting for the pieces to finally fall into place. He'd let his ass drag in the dirt long enough, ignoring the pull in his chest whenever she was near. No-one knew if they'd get a tomorrow anymore and honestly, he was sick of denying his feelings any longer.
Finally, he knew exactly what he wanted.
Since that first moment he'd seen her, standing in that clearing with a rifle slung over one shoulder and his crossbow hanging from the other Daryl was determined not to lose the second chance he'd been given. He wanted to do things over…do things right, just like she deserved.
Carol had been dealt a shitty hand; they both had. Daryl knew they both deserved more than what life had given them so far.
For some reason the universe had seen fit to give him a second shot with her and no way was he going to fuck that up. Problem was, he didn't know the first thing about what he wanted to do, not really. He understood the logistics of it, but the execution of that was beyond him. Charming women had never been his strong suit. He wanted to start over, do things how they ought to be done, but he had no fucking clue how to even approach something like that, so he settled for making the only moved forward he knew how; doing what good guys were supposed to do.
What he knew about wooing women could fit on the back of a matchbook. He had no game. He didn't know the rules - didn't know how to play at all. Hell, he'd known that sad fact since he was an awkward teenager struggling to get two words out whenever in a pretty girl was in the same room. Most guys outgrew that stage of nervous shuffling and tied tongues but he never did.
Outwardly, he was a man in his forty's. Inside, he was still that skittish kid that had never asked a girl out on a date before. It would have been fucking obvious to a blind man that he didn't know what the hell he was doing when it came to the woman standing before him right now.
He'd told her he wanted to start over. Shit, surely she could have heard the message he was sending loud and clear. He hadn't meant just her with the group; he meant her and him. Do things right. Stop dancing around on eggshells and just admit what they both wanted...
A chance. Together. They were both so wounded by the past that neither wanted to risk losing what they had now, but the hazy middle ground they stumbled over now wasn't enough.
Daryl wanted more. He wanted her. Like they should have been all along.
He wasted too much time, waiting for her to be ready…for him to feel worthy of her. It was the time to acknowledge there was more between them than just friendship. What they shared ran deeper than that. She hadn't picked up on his subtle hints though, so he'd gone with the next best thing that popped into his mind. He decided then and there to do the chivalrous thing and do the heavy lifting.
It was an innocent offer…the sort of thing a nice guy, a man of honour would do.
Daryl was ready to be Carol's man of honour, he just didn't know how to let the woman involved know that.
He offered to carry a jug of water. A simple, old-fashioned gesture to show he wanted to lighten her load; to take care of her the only way he could think how. Not saying that she was weak; he knew she was a force to be reckoned with. Offering to help carry something was what guys used to do for girls, back before the world as they knew it ceased to exist. He'd watched plenty of guys back in high school do just that for their own girls. Daryl wanted to do that for his girl now.
He was just trying to be a gentleman…women liked that sort of shit, right?
Carol made him nervous as all hell now, ever since she had stepped back into his life less than twenty-four hours ago.
The fact that he was already holding something completely slipped his mind as he started reaching for the jug in her hand. By the time he realized his mistake it was too late to stop and the smooth move he had hoped to pull off had careened out of control like a peak hour five-car pileup on the freeway; a mangled mess of horror and carnage you couldn't help but stare at as it unfolded right before your eyes.
He should have checked he wasn't holding anything before offering to help, that would have been the smart thing to do…
When it came to Carol his sense of logic went right out the window.
He was such a fucking idiot. Daryl wanted to kick his own ass the second that jug slipped through his fingers and landed on the ground at her feet. Not just slipped; he had been so eager to help that he'd practically thrown the jug in her direction. Daryl watched helplessly as the jug hit the ground, splashing its contents over both their boots and wasting valuable drinking water in the process.
Time ceased when the jug hit the dirt, sending a puff of dust and broken leaves skyward before the contents sloshed out over the rim. He couldn't believe he'd pulled such an amateur move.
Thirteen year old boys everywhere were crying out in pain at the blunder.
Their eyes met, and he saw instantly she was doing her best not to laugh. It was the same pursed expression she'd pulled back that first night at the prison when she asked if he wanted to screw around. God help him, it was cute. The word had never been in his vocabulary before but that's how she looked standing there, fighting the urge to smile at his fumbling attempt to help.
Daryl never thought he'd apply that word to a warrior like Carol but starting over meant approaching things differently and in that second, the sight of her trying to hold back a smile – a smile he was responsible for putting on her face no less - was cute. More than cute…it made him smile too.
All he wanted to do was carry the water for her…hell, he'd sweep her up in his arms and carry her back to the church if that's what she wanted.
He slapped his palm to his face, trying to hide the blush that was in danger of overtaking every inch of his skin. Just because he'd made her smile didn't make him feel any less of an unco-ordinated idiot.
When he'd looked over at her again, she was finally smiling. Any action that made her face light up like that couldn't be all bad, he decided. Maybe he wasn't so bad at this whole wooing thing after all. He'd felt her eyes on him as he scooped up the jug and continued as if the whole incident had never happened. Daryl let her move forward first, determined to salvage as much of his new chivalrous act as possible.
Maybe he had game and maybe he didn't, but if it meant keeping Carol smiling like that he'd keep up whatever the hell he was doing because he was sure it was starting to work.
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read this piece. I've been inspired by the water jug mating throw of Daryl Dixon, so I've decided to write a series of one shots, all involving different scenarios of our resident redneck trying to by chivalrous and helpful with Carol. He may fail, he may not, we'll just see how this plays out. Some chapters will be inspired by direct Caryl scenes, but others will be completely my own thoughts and ideas. I hope you decide to stick around for the ride.