I think I'll do a duel-chapter post. Think you can handle the fluff?

Recommend Song: "Capri" by Colbie Caillat

If I owned TWD, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction about it… or would I? Seriously, though, I don't own it.

It was midsummer, July by Hershel's guess, and the middle of the cruelest heat wave in recent memory. Rick, Glenn, and Daryl had hauled water from the well most of the morning in an attempt to save the garden, but the noonday sun quickly sent them to the shelter of the shade trees.

Carol watched them with amusement from the window as the men settled beneath the trees. Daryl was pouring the last of the water in the pail over his head in an attempt to cool off. She couldn't hear Glenn's commentary, but she figured it wasn't very nice when a second bucket was used to silence him.

She opened the back door and slowly waddled onto the porch. It was almost time for the baby to be born. "Any day now," Hershel had said just three days ago. She had been having small contractions for days, leaving her in a constant state of discomfort and unrest. Sophia had been a difficult birth despite her premature arrival. This new little one was easily full-term, if not a little late.

Her one good hand absently stroked her stomach. She had been further along than she thought when she found out. She was sure her childbearing days were behind her as her last cycle ended nearly six months before she and Daryl were married. Her body, however, was still willing to give her one last chance at motherhood, albeit one last cruel chance... Giving birth at her age was hard enough before the loss of modern medicine.

"What d'ya think your doin'?"

Lost in her thoughts, Carol had missed seeing Daryl cross the field to chastise her. "Standin'," she smirked. "Or have I gotten so big you can't tell the difference?"

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Get back inside."

"I will not!" she retorted. "It's suffocating in there. There's no air moving and I can't breathe for it."

She could see his mouth twitch, biting back a response of his own. Finally, he turned and pulled a rocking chair in her direction, muttering, "Hun'red degrees out here an' you wanna be in it..."

Carol sank into the chair gladly. "Thank you."

Daryl shook his head at her. "S'my boy you're carryin' in there," he reminded her with a gentle poke.

She chuckled as her deformed hand rested on his. "Okay, I give up! You win! It's a boy."

Daryl's smirk grew as he took her hand into his. "Damn right," he said, kissing her two remaining fingers.

Carol blushed as she pulled her hand back self-consciously. It had been six months since a walker had taken her other two fingers. Though the wound had long since healed, the sight of her deformity still embarrassed her.

"How's the garden?"

Daryl shrugged as he looked over his shoulder. "Pain in the ass. Damn lucky if we don't lose half of it."

"And the melons? How are they looking?" She had been craving watermelon for weeks, her mouth watering every time she caught sight of them.

Daryl winked at her. "Huge," he teased.

Carol shook her head, but her eyes danced with laughter. "And you say MY hormones are going crazy. Honestly-"

She paused when she saw Daryl's face. He was looking at the porch floor, his face an alarming combination of horror and confusion. Carol tried to follow his gaze. "What? What is it?"

Daryl didn't immediately answer as he half-squatted to look under her chair. "The hell is that?"

"What?"

She watched as his brows creased. "You leakin' or somethin'?"

Carol tried to peer beneath her char, but after several failed attempts, she settled for putting a hand between her legs. Her eyes widened. "Oh!"

Daryl's eyebrows shot up. "Oh?" he repeated. "Whaddya mean 'oh?'"

Her blue eyes rose to meet his own. "Means Jacob is on his way."

I love writing silly banter between Daryl and Carol. This chapter was good fluffy fun. I know nothing really happened in this chapter (OMG WHAT DO YOU MEAN HER DEFORMED HAND?), so I'll post another chapter here in the next little bit. :-) Hope you're enjoying the fic so far!