Four
The first thing Carol did as soon as she unloaded her pack in her room was take a shower. It wasn't steaming hot, but it was warm and wet and there was soap and shampoo, and God, she never thought she'd be so happy to see a roll of toilet paper and an honest to goodness toilet.
She stood in the shower, the warm water trickling down her body, washing away the dirt and grime and muck that had stuck to her skin. She ran her fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp, sighing with happiness everything washed away down the drain.
When she was finished, she toweled off and rummaged through the cabinets. Deodorant. Dental floss. Those little travel-size bottles of mouthwash. It was a beautiful thing to see.
She quickly freshened up before pulling on a new pair of clothes. A form-fitting shirt that made her feel a little more confident in herself than the one she felt like she'd been wearing for years. A pair of pants similar to the ones she'd been wearing, and those boots. She couldn't give up those boots. She and those boots had been through a lot together, and they were still in great shape. She wouldn't give those boots up. Besides, she'd seen him staring at her in those boots, and as shallow and simple as it might have seemed, she'd feel a rush of heat through her core, sizzling under her skin when she'd see him take a long, lingering look at her from her boots up to her ass. Maybe he couldn't tell her what he felt, what he wanted, but he sure as hell was obvious when it came to staring.
She headed out of the bathroom, giving a contented smile to Michonne as she passed by her to take her turn.
"He's out there, sitting on the porch like a lost puppy," Michonne warned her.
"What?" Carol asked with a little chuckle.
"Daryl. He's sitting out there, his crossbow propped up beside him. He hasn't even come in yet."
"This is his home," Carol said, furrowing her brow. When housing arrangements had been made, Carol, Michonne, Rick, Daryl, Carl and Judith had taken the largest house with five bedrooms, and everybody had come inside to check out their new digs. Except for Daryl.
"Try telling him that," Michonne said with a shrug, as she pulled herself into the bathroom and shut the door. With a weary sigh, Carol headed down the stairs and passed by the kitchen, where Rick and Carl were trying to cook up something for supper. She poked her head in.
"Please don't burn the place down, boys. We just got here."
"Funny. You're a funny lady," Rick snorted from the stove.
"If you're taking orders, I'll take a porterhouse, medium rare."
"Nice," Rick said with an impressed nod. Carol grinned and headed to the door. She peeked out to see Daryl sitting on the porch, back to the rails, crossbow propped up beside him like a trusty old friend. It was then that she realized what he was doing. He was sitting watch.
She opened the door, peeking out. He lifted his head, eyes meeting hers.
"You don't have to do that anymore, you know."
"You sure about that?" he asked, watching as she stepped across his feet and stood by the steps, staring out over the little town. It was quiet, settling. Somewhere, she could hear Rosita's laugh, probably cracking up at something Tara had said. She took a couple steps backward before turning to sit down next to Daryl, pulling her knees up, hugging her legs to her chest. 'What're you doin'?"
"It's nice out here. I like it," she said with a little nod, rubbing her fingers through her damp hair. He flinched, the scent of lavender filling his nostrils, realizing she'd had a shower. And then his thoughts began to wonder to those of her being naked, wet, dripping, and then to the even less innocent images of her being naked, wet, dripping and spread out on the bed, waiting for him.
He shifted uncomfortably, bringing his crossbow across his lap to hide the evidence of his thoughts.
"You're gonna get pneumonia out here," he grumbled.
"Hey, if you're not coming in, I'm staying out here, too. It's our first night in a new place. I'm not sleeping in there if you aren't. It wouldn't feel right." Daryl eyed her before turning his attention to his hand, picking at his cuticles. "You don't have to sit watch anymore, Daryl."
"Don't feel right. Bein' off guard. Feels like the second we stop lookin' out, somethin' bad's gonna happen."
"I know," she said with a nod. "But for now, we're safe. We're behind walls. And we have a house. And a shower. And electricity. Let's just enjoy it while it lasts."
"How long's it gonna last?" Daryl wondered, turning his head, leaning back a little, waiting for her to meet his gaze. When she did, they both shared a little smile, and she shrugged her shoulders. She pulled herself back to her feet and held her hand out to him.
"Come on."
"Where we goin'?" he asked, grabbing her hand and coming to his feet. Her smile widened, and she nodded toward the front door.
"We're going home."