Hi everyone! We're back for the second installment of this mini-story : ) One more after this one, but I'm not sure when I'll get to it (I'm going on holiday in a couple days for over a week)...but I'm hoping to have some down time to write. Also, I'm not done with The Vagabonds, I just got a little sidetracked with this one ; )
Thank you so so SO much for reading and reviewing and following and favouriting...there was such a great response to the first chapter I posted for this story, and I can't thank you all enough! I wish I could reply to the guest reviewers, but I'll have to settle for thanking you here...THANK YOU! : )
I really hope you enjoy! I own nothing affiliated with TWD, but you already knew that ; )
The second time, he was gentle. And a little bit angry.
The day hadn't been kind to Daryl, and since it was so rare that he became angry enough to let it be felt by everyone who crossed his path, she knew that the man had been wronged.
Carol found him banging through the drawers of the little dresser in his cell, seemingly looking for something. She noticed his bow resting on top, the arrows splayed around haphazardly next to it. She grabbed the small tub of wax from the tangled-up sheets on his bed and approached him from behind, her hand slipping into the crook of his arm as she moved to stand beside him. Her fingers traced lightly on the soft skin just above his elbow.
She held out the little container to him and he looked down at her for a brief moment before closing his eyes and letting out a frustrated sigh. He swiped the wax from her with exasperation and unscrewed the cap.
"You okay?" she asked, low enough to make it feel somewhat private, even though the prison walls had ears. His jaw clenched and he glanced her way before returning his focus to the task at hand.
"Just...been a long fuckin' day."
Since it was barely past noon, she figured his day would only be getting worse before it got better.
Her hand squeezed his bicep gently and she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his upper arm just under the frayed edge of his sleeveless shirt. She felt him lean into her slightly, releasing a tense breath.
The sound of Rick clearing his throat in the doorway had them both turning their attention towards him.
"Can I talk to Daryl for a minute?"
She looked up at Daryl and gave him a small, comforting smile before letting her hand slide from his arm and making her way past Rick out the door.
Later that day, she sought him out in the guard tower.
He had skipped out on dinner in favour of taking watch, sending Sasha and Maggie back inside. She had brought him his meal, having run all the way across the yard in the pouring rain with a spare shirt draped over the bowl to shield it from the downpour.
He looked towards the trapdoor when he heard it swing open, prepared to tell whoever it was to leave him the fuck alone, his eyes softening when he saw it was her.
"I brought you some dinner," she said by way of greeting, handing him the bowl.
"Don't see yours. You best not have skipped out." He eyed her knowingly. More than once, he'd seen her pass over her meal to one or two of the children who had been grumbling that they were hungry.
She smiled at his concern – it always made her blush when he got protective of her. Like a schoolgirl with her very first crush.
"I promise, I ate already."
He side-eyed her and she sighed, dramatically going through the cross-my-heart motion over her chest. The corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smirk, and he perched himself up on the table they kept up there, giving whoever was on watch an opportunity to sit down and still be able to see out the windows. She propped herself up beside him as he ate, swinging her legs back and forth like a kid in an oversized chair.
"'S good. You cook tonight?"
"Yeah," she murmured, looking out into the pouring rain.
"I knew it. Food tasts like shit if you ain't the one makin' it."
She chuckled at that, and nudged his shoulder. "Stop," she teased.
"'M serious." and then he looked at her and smiled for real.
"Well, thank you," she said shyly. He always complimented her cooking, and it never ceased to give her butterflies a stir. "So what happened today?"
"Shitty day, is all," he shrugged his response between bites.
"Anything in particular? I can spit in someone's oatmeal if you want."
But he didn't answer. Instead, he focused his sights on his bowl and took another bite.
Her smile fell and she nudged him. "What happened?"
He sighed, looking out to the wet horizon. "You know that fucker, David?"
"David?" she was shocked. David was well-liked by everyone, as far as she knew. He really liked Daryl and was appreciative of everything. Daryl loved when people were appreciative. Nothing pissed him off more than an "ungrateful asshole", as he called them.
"Daniel? Dean?"
"Sam?" she offered. That made more sense. Sam really was an asshole.
"Yeah, Sam. That fucker. He's been pissin' me off since the day we brought those people here. Doesn't even give a shit that we saved his ass from that psychopath. Always fuckin' complainin' 'bout the shit that needs doin'. Sayin' he didn't have to work so hard back in fuckin' Woodbury. Bitchin' 'bout the kids all damn day. Fuck."
She let him talk without interruption, taking his empty bowl from him and placing it at her side.
"And then earlier, I asked him to come help with the fences, said we needed the extra muscle, and the fucker tells me he ain't interested. What the fuck is that?"
Yup, sounded like Sam. But there had to be more to it. Daryl was too aggravated for it to have just been Sam's regular shit.
"And then he just started. Like he fuckin' owns the place. Sayin' how he don't like me. How he knows I'm good for nothin' just like Merle." His breath caught and he swallowed hard. Carol winced at the mention of Merle's name. She did not see it going this way. Here we go.
"Just kept sayin' what a piece of shit Merle was. How he didn't give a shit about no one but himself. How I'm the same. How I'm gonna fuck everyone over one of these days just like my good-for-nothin' brother."
"Daryl," she said softly. "You know you're not like that. Everyone except Sam knows you're not like that."
"Ain't that. It's just…he's dead now. I don't need to hear what an asshole he was anymore. It's fuckin' over. Why can't it just be fuckin' over?" He sounded dejected. Sad. He looked down at his hands, where he was fidgeting with the calluses on his palm.
She took his hand, but he stood up moved a few steps away towards the windows, leaving her perched on the table by herself.
"Everyone hated him. I get that. He was an asshole. I'm just…done fuckin' hearin' about it."
Carol scotted down to the edge of the table by the windows, so she was right next to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him gently closer, but he still wouldn't look at her, keeping his gaze on the falling rain. She slipped her hands under his shirt and ran her fingertips lightly over his skin as he settled in the spot between her legs.
He sighed and closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was looking at her, his arms still at his sides.
"I liked Merle," she said bluntly.
He scoffed. "Fuck off, you did not."
"I did," she insisted with a smile. "We had something in common."
"Oh yeah, and what's that?" he asked in disbelief.
"You." She said it as though it should have been obvious.
He sneered once more. "How's that?"
"Merle loved you. He had an odd way of showing it, but he did. He gave his life for you. He wanted what was best for you. It was always about you."
He looked at her then as though he was seeing her for the first time.
"I'd do that for you," she whispered.
He looked at her still, lost in the blues that looked back at him with such sincerity that it overwhelmed him. The end of the fucking world, and he finally finds his place. What a joke.
"And he was funny," she continued, her tone lighthearted. And still Daryl just watched her. "I mean, his humour was a little hard to get, but he was funny. At least, I thought he was, in his own way." She paused briefly, reflecting. "He would have been good for us. I think he would have liked it here, eventually."
Daryl cut her off then, bringing his mouth to hers, taking hold of her face, and kissing her deeply. Softly. With a type of intensity that Carol had never felt from him before.
His hands moved on her, touching every square inch of her. Pushing clothes aside to bring his lips to the skin there. But still, he was gentle. So gentle.
He took the lead this time, from start to finish. He peeled off her clothes when he wanted to, he kissed and licked and nipped when he wanted to. He touched and felt what he wanted to. All so gently.
And she let him, because even when he was taking from her what he wanted, using her as a release for his anger, he still made her feel adored. He still made her feel cherished and precious and loved.
She did all she could to match his affection, try to make him feel as good as he made her feel. Her touch was featherlight, intermittently running them up his chest and around the back of his neck to pull him in for a soft kiss.
The rain was coming down in sheets, and even though none of the tower's windows were covered, they were in their own little world.
No one could see them undress one another. No one could see him kneel in front of her as she leaned a hand back on the table while he explored the most intimate part of her. No one could see when he slid his hands to her behind and pulled her to the edge of the surface before sliding inside her as she wrapped her arms tightly around his him. No one could see their mouths and tongues trailing along each other's shoulders, throats, earlobes. No one could see the way they moved together in the most intimate way two people could ever move together.
And when they came down from their high, sweating and breathing heavy and chests heaving, he kissed her again. Over and over again. Holding her face in his hands and placing soft, sweet kissed on her lips.
His hands moved to her shoulders and ran down her arms before sweeping behind her back and pulling her in closer.
She moved her mouth to his collarbone then. "I fuckin' love you," she murmured between the kisses she planted on his skin.
He smirked. "I fuckin' love you too."
They dressed lazily, stealing glances at one another as they went, and then Carol settled herself back on that table, making herself comfortable by leaning against the wall, right up in the corner. He moved to sit with her, placing himself between her legs and leaning back on her chest.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain, before she broke the silence.
"You feeling any better now?"
"Mmm. You always make me feel better," he mumbled as she ran her fingers through his hair and massaged his head with her fingertips.
She snickered. "Like medicine?"
"Yeah," he yawned. "Like medicine."
He took one of her hands in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly before weaving his fingers through hers and settling in to watch the rain falling on the treeline.