Chapter Two - Freezing Bodies
"NO!" Daryl fiercely stated around a mouthful of instant mashed potatoes. They went well with the roasted rabbit Carol had cooked on spits in the hearth, a pan placed beneath them to catch some of the drippings to make gravy. Damn, but his woman could cook. "Absolutely not! This place is a good five acres an' needs t' be searched for walkers. Ain't lettin' th' women go frollickin' in one o' th' springs an' end up as a walker's next fuckin' meal. NO!"
Glenn glanced at the irate hunter over his shoulder from where he and Maggie were trying to hang a few clothes lines between the bookshelves. "Soo … we're not –"
"Yes, we are," Rick sighed wearily, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck as Lori handed him a plate. "While you were hunting, we combed the area for walkers and only found four. They were wearing the uniform which matched the décor in the reception area off the parlor. They probably locked the gates and decided to stay during the first wave of the outbreak."
Daryl eyed him, one brow arching. "Yeah? Then why ain't they still alive an' occupyin' this space?"
Rick paused, his fork hovering frozen near his mouth as he tried to come up with a viable response. Hershel quickly came to his rescue. "One of the ladies was bitten. No doubt she turned and infected the others."
Carol took a seat next to Daryl and ate quietly, listening to the men bicker. Finally, Daryl turned away from the others and gave her his full attention. "That all y' eatin'?" At her puzzled nod, he tipped a spoonful of his potatoes and a piece of rabbit onto her plate. She opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it considering the mood he was in. Now was not the time to argue. He cracked open a soda they'd looted from the pantry and drank half before offering her the rest. Leaning over so only she could hear, he complimented her. "Damn fine meal, woman."
Carol nodded stiffly and continued to eat, the only indication she'd heard him aside from the rosy blush coloring her cheeks. Daryl could tell from her posture and lack of response he'd fucked up.
"Y' pissed at me?" he asked, maintaining the soft whisper so they could speak privately. "C'mon, Carol, don't be like that. Y' ain't never questioned me before when it came t' your safety."
She passed her plate to Lori with a nod, a silent order to eat what she'd left untouched before her eyes met Daryl's. "I want a bath, Daryl … everyone does. Actually, want doesn't even come into this. We all NEED a bath. I feel so disgusting I can barely stand myself, and let me tell you, it's no picnic when I can't distinguish between your scent at night and that of a walker!" His lips parted, but she interrupted him before he could speak. "Do you realize we could get sick from being this filthy? Is that what you want?" she whisper-shouted.
Daryl snapped his mouth shut and slammed his tin plate down against the hardwood floor with a bang. He rose to his feet, his face burning as he grabbed his crossbow and headed towards the door without a word.
"Where are you going?" Rick called after him, half rising to go after him.
The hunter stopped mid-stride to glare at their leader. "The women want a bath," he sneered. "I'm goin' out t' scout around th' nearest spring."
Lori's dark brows disappeared somewhere near her hairline as she looked over at her friend. "God, Carol, what'd you say to him?"
Carol's gaze remained on the door for a little more than a beat before she turned to Lori with a shrug of her thin shoulders. "I just … pointed out the merits of a bath. I shouldn't have pushed him, though," she murmured, regret heavy in her tone.
T-Dog bumped his shoulder against hers where he sat to her left. "C'mon, Carol, don't beat yourself up about it. You know Dixon don't hold a grudge for long."
She snorted. "Easy for you to say, T. You don't have to share his bedroll."
Lori and Rick shared a look and grinned, the animosity between them falling away as they both relished this new development between their friends.
*.*.*
Daryl paced back and forth behind Carol where she sat with a small washtub and scrub board, soapy bubbles floating on the surface of the water. Of course, she'd volunteered, not trusting the others to do a thorough job. He wasn't about to argue with her. His pride still stung from her comparison between him and a walker. Did he really smell that awful? Instead of dwelling on it, however; he kept an eye out for danger while the others indulged in a long-overdue bath. The men had gone first – Lori nearly pushing Rick into the water with all his clothes on before she'd tossed him a bar of soap they'd found and then returning to the house.
He set his crossbow down beside him as he knelt next to Carol, taking a pair of pants from her and wringing the water from them. "Y' ain't always got t' do everythin', woman. Y' shoulda asked Olive Oyl and Maggie t' help y' … or Beth. Gawd knows ain't no one ever makes that girl do a damn thing."
"Perhaps they see Beth as the entertainment in this group," she said, biting her lip to stifle her laughter. "Everyone loves her singing, don't you know."
"Don't even start," Daryl scoffed. "I've heard cats fuckin' that sound better than that."
Carol tried to hide her grin, but it was useless. "Don't be mean. Everyone does their fair share."
Daryl tossed Rick's pants to the side and shot her a side-eyed look. "Naw, they don't. Y' take it all on yerself an' let them have what's left. Y' ain't gotta shoulder th' burden alone, Carol."
She scrubbed a little harder at some of the stains littering Carl's button up. "If I can make myself useful, perhaps I won't feel like such a burden. We've gone over this before … there's nothing more to say." Carol could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, but he didn't argue further. He had his own hang-ups when it came to the group and fitting in. She reached out and rested her hand atop his, gracing him with the rare smile she reserved solely for him. "Thank you … for helping."
Daryl grunted in response, his hands swift and sure as he made his way through the pile with her. They were taking advantage of her, and it pissed him off to no end, but he couldn't intervene if she wouldn't let him. Sometimes, he just wanted to revert to the person he'd been before Carol's influence in his life and tell them all to fuck off. He didn't think his woman would take too kindly to that though.
His eyes darted around the perimeter of the spring before he noticed the men climbing out one by one and wrapping themselves in their warm blankets. He didn't envy them the trek back to the house. The hot spring might have been a lovely eighty-eight degrees, but he could just imagine how frigid it would be to step out and have the cold weather wrap around a wet body.
Glenn looked like a bad version of the mummy as he came to stand next to Carol. "Th-Thank you so m-much, Carol, for w-washing our clothes. Would y-you like me to t-t-take them back to the house and g-get them hung up in the library to d-dry?"
"Yes, would you? And tell the girls it's their turn."
Daryl thrust the basket at Glenn with a snicker. "Best hurry, Short Round, before y' freeze off somethin' vital."
Carol rose to her feet as Glenn rolled his eyes and left, causing Daryl to look up at her from beneath his lashes. "What y' doin'?" he asked in alarm as she reached for the hem of her shirt.
She paused, smiling gently as her arms crossed over her torso, ready to pull her shirt off. "I'm taking off my clothes, so I can wash them, Daryl. What does it look like?"
He blushed ten shades of red, his eyes wide and panicked. "Now?! But –"
"Yes, now. I thought I would get a head start on my own before the others came down."
Daryl scowled blackly – which he was sure wouldn't have the desired effect on her what with the tomato red tint of his face – as he moved to the heap of blankets and retrieved the cornflower blue quilt he'd procured for her on a run. He whipped it around her shoulders and held it closed in front of her, nodding in satisfaction to see she wouldn't be exposed to the elements … or his gaze.
Carol fought back a giggle, knowing he wouldn't appreciate it in the least. "Shy, Dixon?" she teased.
"Stahp."
He watched mesmerized as first her shirt and then her white lace bra fell to her bare feet. She'd removed her boots earlier, so she could dip her toes in the spring. Daryl gnawed nervously at the inside of his lip, light-headed at the thought of her naked beneath the blanket. He prayed she wouldn't look down and see the evidence of his arousal pressing against his zipper. It only got worse when her pants and underwear joined the growing pile. Fuck!
"Hold onto th' edges for a sec," he commanded gruffly, slipping out of his jacket and holding it out to her.
"Daryl, you're going to be cold."
"Naw, I'm a'right," he assured her. With the amount of heat surging through his body, he doubted he'd ever be cold again. "Put that on an' wrap the quilt around your waist. It'll keep y' warm while y' do th' rest o' th' wash."
Carol tilted her head to the side and regarded him curiously before he turned away and resumed his seat, ready to help her once more. It still amazed her, the level of caring he exuded towards her.
*.*.*
"Strip!"
"What?!"
"You heard me," Carol deadpanned. "Strip, so I can wash your things. Especially that vest. I swear it has to have fifty layers of walker guts covering it."
His face paled at the thought of shedding his armor. "I can wash my own damn clothes," he grumbled, his hands tightening on his leather vest as she tried to push it off his shoulders. The rest of the women, done with their baths, had taken the wash back to the house to hang, leaving Carol to her solitary bath and Daryl to watch over her.
"I know you can, Daryl, but there's no need when I can do it for you. If I wash and you wring, we'll be done faster. Then I can finally have my bath and go back to the house before you get naked. And don't you even think of coming to bed until you've had a thorough scrubbing, Dixon."
"Pfft!" His eyes narrowed, angry at the panic welling in his chest. What she'd proposed was the most logical solution, but he couldn't stand the thought of having so little between them. As it was, the thought of sharing a sleeping bag with her was outright torture. He swiped up his crossbow and stalked off, calling behind him, "Get yer ass in th' water, woman!"
And just how was he supposed to stand watch with her inches away without a stitch on? He cursed inwardly and darted around a tree near the water's edge. He could hear the rustle of fabric as the blanket dropped from where it had been draped around her hips, and he groaned. He peeked around the rough bark of the tree, his breath hitching in his throat as he saw the long, toned perfection of her legs, his jacket just covering the supple roundness of her ass. Carol's back arched, the stiff denim beginning to slide over her shoulders. His back slammed into the tree, his eyes closing tightly to block out the wanton vision dancing behind his irises as he fought for breath. No woman had ever affected him so strongly.
Fuckin' hell! I'm a peepin' Tom!
Daryl heard a soft splash, followed by the soft melodic tones of her voice as she happily hummed a tune he didn't recognize. God, what was she doing to him? He wanted to join her in the water – his scars be damned – and pull her flush with his body, to feel her curves pressed to his lean lines, to bury himself deep within her heat and lose himself to her touch. He wanted to let every secret, every desire, spill from his lips against the shell of her ear and claim her for his own.
He shook himself out of his reverie and fought to get his body under control. He couldn't remain in hiding, not when his woman was all alone out there. He needed to focus on the perimeter of the spring and insure nothing came upon her wishing to cause her harm. He would deal with his traitorous libido once he made sure she was safe.
Carol frowned down at the bar of soap in her hands as she tried to build a lather. What wouldn't she do for a decent bottle of body wash. Ivory had never been her favorite, but who was she to complain if the soap did its job? Already she felt cleaner, and a soft sigh escaped her parted lips.
She'd felt Daryl's eyes on her, trailing over her body as she'd shucked her blanket and the jacket he'd loaned her. A fiery blush had stolen into her cheeks at the feel of his gaze. But why? Why would he want to look upon her when he hadn't spared a glance at the other women? Carol wasn't going to delude herself into thinking he might want her. Sometimes, she wondered if he would want any woman, his aversion to touch keeping even those he was familiar with at bay. He lets YOU touch him, her mind whispered. Daryl trusted her, though, trusted her not to hurt him. He was her friend, she argued with herself. They shared that bond … but it didn't mean he wanted her in that way.
Carol caught movement from the corner of her eye, and her head whipped around to watch her protector as he made a circuit around the spring. Once again, she'd felt his gaze, and heat pooled low in her belly. She found herself fervently wishing he'd shuck his filthy clothes and join her in the water. A smile curled at the corner of her mouth as she let her mind wander, wondering what it would be like to bathe him, her hands caressing every inch of his body, her fingers scrubbing gently at his scalp, her lips sucking softly at the pulse point throbbing madly beneath his jaw.
She ducked her head beneath the water to rinse her hair. Wishing is for fools, Carol Ann, she chided herself. Just be happy for what you have.
*.*.*
Daryl couldn't ever remember being so cold … not when he'd been lost for nine days on his own, not when he and his brother had gone hunting in the northern foothills of Georgia and Merle had forgotten the tent, and certainly not since the group had been on the road suffering the onset of winter. He had Carol to keep him warm on those long nights when he would lie awake and wonder if they would survive to see the sunrise. He shivered violently as he continued to pace the wide veranda which wrapped around the house, pulling his thin blanket more securely around his body.
He was being stupid. He should have gone inside an hour ago when he'd finished his bath, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. His teeth chattered so loudly, it would probably draw walkers from miles around, but still he couldn't find the willpower to reach out and turn the doorknob. It wasn't as if he hadn't climbed into the same bedroll with Carol every night for the past two months. But y' ain't never climbed in with her NAKED! His inner voice was becoming a pain in his ass, playing on his fears instead of offering relief. He couldn't even close his eyes without the vision of her at the spring coming to life in vivid detail.
I am so fucked! Daryl thought briefly of claiming one of the sofas, but shot the idea down before it could take root. He doubted he could sleep at all without Carol's warmth curled into his side. It was a blur as to how it had all begun. One minute he had been watching her shiver uncontrollably, wrapped in a rag which served as her blanket, and the next he was offering to share his bedroll with her, the words falling unbidden from his lips. No one wanted to be in such close proximity with him, yet she hadn't hesitated, diving under his warmer blanket and stretching beside him like a pampered housecat. There had been more than a few instances he'd woken to find her head tucked beneath his chin, her arm curled tightly around his waist, and – he groaned at the thought – her thigh wedged between his legs, pressing deliciously against his groin. And now he was stuck. How could he crawl into their sleeping bag – not a stitch on – without her becoming aware of his obvious attraction for her? He wondered if it was too late to throw himself into a herd. Being torn apart by the dead would surely be less painful than the embarrassment he was sure to suffer.
Daryl stared up at the moon as it showed itself through the smattering of clouds. He knew he couldn't linger any longer. Maybe she's asleep already, he mused hopefully. He let himself into the house and shot the deadbolt into place before shoving two heavy side tables in front of it. The gates had been secured and a thick brick wall surrounded the property, but there was no reason not to take every precaution. The one circuit he'd made around the top of the wall had revealed nothing least of all walkers. Which wasn't to say they wouldn't find any when they scouted the nearby town come morning.
He paused before the door of the library, his wet clothes slung over his arm. Already, he could feel a rush of heat brush over his feet from the crack between the door and hardwood floor. It was all the encouragement he needed as he opened the door and padded silently into the room.
He hadn't really noticed the enormity of the room before, yet now he took it all in. Lori, Carl and Rick had made themselves a nest by the hearth on the east wall, having pulled two sofas strategically in place to offer some measure of privacy. Hershel, Beth and T-Dog had arranged their meager bedding on a few of the sofas not too far away. Daryl began to make his way towards the west wall where he could see Glenn's dark head peeking from the bedroll he shared with Maggie. He frowned, his gaze still searching for Carol. A sofa and two overstuffed chairs had been pushed together, and he could see a vacant bit of line between the bookshelves where he could hang his clothes next to hers.
Carol's head popped up to peer at him over the back of the sofa as she heard him approach. Well. Just. Shit! So much for her bein' asleep. She rose to her feet, her blanket wrapped around her like a toga and took his wet things, moving to hang them on the line without a word. He shivered, but now he was wondering if it was due to the cold or the sight of her sweet backside and the way the quilt outlined it in perfect detail.
Daryl averted his gaze, slinging the crossbow off his shoulder to set it within easy reach next to the stone hearth beside their boots. She'd laid their sleeping bag on top of a thick sheepskin rug, and he knew it would offer a softer surface than the hard ground they were used to sleeping on. He dropped down in front of the fire, as close as he could get without injuring himself, and shoved his hands into his armpits, cursing as another shiver wracked his body.
"Oh, my god," Carol hissed as she dropped down beside him and got a good look. "You're freezing, Daryl, and your lips are blue. What took you so long?" She reached for him, and he felt the world tilt on its axis.
For fuck's sake, woman, don't touch me! He was already semi-hard from the tantalizing view of her behind. He doubted he'd be able to rein it in if she laid her hands on him. "S-Stood watch for a while. 'S q-quiet, though. Sh-Should be ok 'til mornin'. Not like I c-can send anyone else out in w-wet clothes," he stuttered out through chattering teeth. "Y' should b-be asleep."
Carol ignored his scolding tone and reached for him, biting her lip as he pulled away. "I was waiting for you. If you'd been out any longer, I was going to go look for you." She reached out again despite every sign he exuded warning her away. He wouldn't even meet her eyes. She shuddered as her hand came in contact with his icy skin. "Jesus! You're a step away from being hypothermic."
"'M f-fine!" he whisper-shouted, finally meeting her gaze.
"Yes, I can see you are," she deadpanned. She nodded towards their bedroll with a pointed look. "Get in."
He shook his head petulantly. "Ain't ready t' sleep. But don't lemme keep y' if you're ready t' turn in."
Carol's eyes narrowed. For a man who tried his damnedest to protect the group on a daily basis, he had no care for his own well-being. "Now, Dixon … or I swear I'll wake Hershel to check you over. AND I'll wake Rick to make sure you sit still for an exam."
His temper snapped, and it was only his respect for her which kept him from yelling. He wouldn't do that to her again, not when he was still kicking himself for the horrible things he'd said to her that night on the farm. "I'm a grown ass man, Carol. Don't need y' treatin' me like a fuckin' kid."
"Then stop acting like one." Her tone gentled. She didn't want to fight with him. "Let me help you, Daryl … please." Her hand slid over his bicep from shoulder to elbow in a calming caress, one she'd used on him before, and she could see some of the tension coiled within him begin to loosen. "Please."
Daryl's shoulders slumped in defeat. He'd hoped she'd have been sound asleep by the time he'd finally dragged himself to the warmth of the library, prayed he'd have been able to skirt past his embarrassment. God, he should have known better. There was some evil cosmic force which seemed to believe he didn't deserve to avoid such things as complete and utter mortification. He couldn't even be angry with her. Carol just wanted him to be warm. He'd be lucky if he didn't fall sick because of his innate need to hide from her, remaining out in the elements far longer than was healthy.
He had to admit it would be nice to tuck himself into the down sleeping bag and feel the ice leave his bones. It would be even warmer once Carol joined him. His cock twitched in anticipation, and he inwardly cursed, damning his traitorous body all to hell. Daryl closed his eyes and gave in, knowing she'd press him more if he refused. An argument just wasn't worth the effort. It never was with her. Nor was the guilt which always followed when he had to look into those sky-blue eyes and know he was responsible for her pain. Damnit!
The smile on her rosebud mouth was blinding as he crawled into the sleeping bag and pulled the fabric over his head. It was still warm from her body, tongues of heat creeping up his legs, over his stomach to settle somewhere near his heart. Now, if only he could stop shivering.
"Daryl …"
Oh, hell, now what?! He pulled the fabric from his face where only his eyes and nose were visible and arched a brow.
"Give me your blanket. It's still damp from your bath, and you're never going to warm up with it clinging to you," she said innocently, her brows knit in a concerned frown.
Normally, Daryl was quite adept at hiding his emotions, but this was too much. Is she tryin' t' fuckin' kill me?! "I ain't layin' in here with y' naked, Carol!" he squeaked indignantly. He felt ridiculous lying there sputtering like a green kid instead of the adult he was.
Carol rolled her eyes and tried not to smile as he tried to preserve his modesty. "Don't be silly. My blanket is dry, and I can spread yours over the top of the sleeping bag to dry … and it will also provide us more warmth. It's the most logical solution. I don't know why you're being so stubborn. There's little any of us can do until our clothes dry, Daryl."
He gnawed on his lip, chewing over her words. Why's she got t' make so much damn sense? Fuck! "Fine!" he hissed, his face resembling an over-ripe tomato by the time he unwrapped the blanket from his body and thrust it at her. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch Carol climb in beside him. Unfortunately, it wasn't working. Every one of her movements was brought into sharp focus in his mind's eye, feeling her spread his damp blanket, the corner of the sleeping bag lifting in her delicate hand, her long slender legs sliding in next to him. It was fucking torture.
A/n: Big hugs for BettyBubble for breaking this monster down into chapters for me. Apparently, it was too long to be a o/s (as per my usual). Hope you're all staying safe out there this holiday season! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.
