Authors Note: This is how others in the group adjust to Rick and Daryl

...

Beth's Perspective

After giving Judith her bottle, Beth snuggled the baby into the manger-like, little crib Daryl had built for the dining room. Normally, she would have immediately joined Daryl and Rick where they ate, but her fascination with the pair had her sitting on the concrete beside a sleeping Judy.

The two men were like something out of a movie, or a romance novel. The matching blue of their eyes held, and they both smiled and nodded at one another, but they were not talking. Not with their mouths anyway. It's like they were talking with their hearts.

Beth sighed dreamily, absently braiding a lump of blond hair from her ponytail. From her perspective, she could see Rick's face much better than Daryl's, so she just watched the expressions flow across Rick's features. He looked amused, then teasing, then sultry. His head tilted, curls flopping down, and she'd never imagined so much lust could be displayed on a man's face! Whew, they were getting her all hot and bothered!

Would anyone ever love her like that? Would she one day meet a man with whom she could have long, wordless conversations? She thought of Jimmy, how the boy had been so shy around her that he wouldn't even hold her gaze for more than a few seconds before glancing away, cheeks bright red. If he had lived, would they have been able to create a relationship like that?

She doubted it, but maybe someday she'd meet someone special to grow old with...

...

Carol's Perspective

Carol's patience was stretched mightily thin as she watched Rick pace the fence. There was no need for the man to even be out here, she was the one on watch. And his pacing wasn't going to get Daryl back to prison any faster.

Climbing down from the watchtower, she slowly made her way to Rick, who saw her approach and stilled.

"You've been in love with him for a long time, but I've never seen you worry like this unless he was late. What gives? Now that y'all are officially together, you're gonna turn into some nervous nelly?"

Rick's mouth quirked, but he went right back to staring down the road, waiting. His obvious unhappiness tugged at Carol's heart, "Come on, Rick, this is Daryl. He always comes back."

"I know," he replied huskily, never looking away from the road.

Carol moved in front him, and later she was glad she did or she may have missed Rick's bizarre behavior as a deep breath shuddered out of him, and he tossed back his head, eyes closed in what appeared to be rapture. Then his hands cupped his head like he was hugging himself, and he grinned widely, laughing in joy.

What in the hell? He leaned down, braced his hands on his knees, and mumbled, "Two to three miles? Need to get a more accurate measurement than that..." and then he was opening the fence.

"What are you doing?" Carol demanded, having noticed several walkers headed from the woods, straight to them, "close the damn fence, Rick."

Ignoring her, Rick stepped out to meet the walkers, stabbing his knife quickly in four skulls before returning to her side, gaze fixed in the road.

Carol stood shaking her head at his crazy behavior until the unmistakable sound of an approaching car touched her ears.

"About damn time," he grinned at her, and both moved to the side to let the car in. Carol pulled the gate shut by herself before turning to greet Daryl and Glenn.

Glenn's eyes were wide when they met hers, and both of them watched Rick and Daryl, who stood with their arms tightly wrapped around each other. Hugs were common when returning from a run, but this hug continued well past a greeting.

PDA from Daryl Dixon? What was the world coming to?

...

Carl's Perspective

Peeking around the door of the dining room, Carl heaved a sigh of relief when he saw his father and Daryl were not there. Jeez, he was trying his best to be supportive of the two best men he knew, but that lovey dovey stuff was getting on his last nerve.

Seriously, two grown men in their 40's constantly touching like that? Even Maggie and Glenn could sit by one another without holding hands or griping each other's thighs under the table. Dad and Daryl couldn't seem to take their eyes off each other.

Had dad ever loved on mom like that? Carl didn't think so, in fact, he really had no memories of them touching.

Seeing Hershel, Carl went straight to the older man, "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure, son, is something the matter?"

Carl felt instantly guilty at the concern on Hershel's kind, old face, "No sir, not really," he paused, glancing around to make sure no one could hear him, "it's my dad. And Daryl."

"Ah," Hershel replied, eyes twinkling, "is this about the way they can't seem to keep their hands off each other?"

"Yes," Carl was relieved not to have to say it himself, "I'm not sure it's natural."

Hershel nodded wisely and Carl was glad he'd come to Hershel.

"Carl, does your dad love you?"

What? "Yeah, course he does."

"What about your mom? Did she love you?"

Carl nodded, ignoring the gunshot that sounded dully in his memory, not sure what this had to do with his dad being a lovebird.

"Either of them ever abuse you? Beat you? Leave your body covered in scars?"

"No, you know that," maybe Hershel hadn't been the best choice. Didn't old people go senile sometimes?

"You ever noticed Daryl's scars?"

"I guess," Carl replied, thinking of the few glimpses he'd had of Daryl without his shirt, "they are pretty bad. What happened to him?"

"He's never talked to me about it, but I know the signs. He was badly abused, Carl. Those scars are the physical signs of a horrible childhood, but Daryl carries other scars, the kinds that no one can see because they're on the inside."

"That's horrible," Carl replied after a moment, picking at a splinter of wood on the table in front of him. Daryl had it rough, but he'd turned out all right, hadn't he?

"I don't think anyone has ever loved him," Hershel said softly, and Carl's gaze jerked up, meeting the older man's eyes, "This is a first for him. He's got a whole lifetime of missing a loving touch to make up for."

Well, that made sense. Kind of. Poor Daryl. Carl nodded, "I'll just have to get used to it."

Hershel's eyes shined, "That you will, son."

...

Michonne's Perspective

Watching Rick and Daryl was Michonne's new favorite pasttime.

Though both were sexy to her, she'd known the two men were destined when she'd first arrived at the prison. They were finally a couple, but something strange had been going on since they'd hooked up, and Michonne was going to figure it out if it killed her.

Her suspicions were too bizarre to share with anyone else, but Michonne was pretty sure they were speaking telepathically.

How to test her theory, though? Asking them would be useless, so if she wanted to get down to the bottom of this, she'd have to be sneaky.

Rick was the easiest to access, so she strolled down to his garden, pretending an interest in his tomato plants. Though he sent her a few strange looks, he'd patiently answered her questions. At one point during Rick's explanation of the best time of year to plant carrots, she'd pinned him with her eyes and sent the thought, I got bit by a walker this morning.

And... nothing. The man was now talking about potatoes.

A walker bit me and I'm feeling feverish. A walker, Rick. I'm going to turn and eat everyone.

"...and Daryl's gonna bring back some small fruit trees. It'll take some years, but we'll eventually have..." Rick abruptly quit talking and grinned, shutting his eyes, and caressing his fingers through his hair. She knew that look! He was talking to Daryl right now, even if he couldn't seem to hear her.

She didn't say a word as she casually strolled away. It was time to tackle Daryl.

It was the next morning before Michonne got her opportunity. Exiting the prison with his bow slung over his shoulder, she ambushed him at the fence, "Good morning."

He grunted, adjusted his bow strap, and reached for the gate as Michonne covered his hand with hers, "Where are you going?"

Blue eyes squinted at her, sending her a exasperated huff, "Hunting."

He looked pointedly down at her hand on top of his before back into her eyes, but she wanted to have that contact when she sent this thought, I'm pregnant with Rick's baby. We hooked up one night before you two got involved.

Again, nothing. Damn. His eyes continued to impatiently hold hers, and then shoving her, rather gently, aside, Daryl slipped off, not even glancing back at her.

That was fine. Michonne would eventually get to the bottom of this mystery.

...

Maggie's Perspective

"So who do you think is the top?" Maggie asked Glenn, snuggling up beside him in their bunk.

"Your curiosity and obvious arousal about the two of them is honestly starting to freak me out a little bit," Glenn's tone was serious, but she knew he was just teasing, so she smacked his shoulder with her palm.

"I'm serious! I bet Rick is."

"I don't want to think about that, Mags!" Glenn groaned, burying his face into her neck.

"Guess! Which is top?"

"Damn, Maggie, I don't know. Probably Daryl."

"Daryl? Na, I bet Rick is. He's the leader."

"Maybe their roles reverse in bed? Do we really have to talk about this?"

"I think it's sexy. They're sexy. Two manly men..."

"Would you stop?"

"...unable to keep their hands off of each other. I bet they go at it several times a night."

Glenn covered his ears with his hands, but Maggie pushed them away and tugged up his head to look deeply into his eyes, "Say something to me without using words."

"Huh?"

"Like they do. Tell me you love me with your eyes."

"Seriously?"

At her huff, Glenn held up his hand, "Okay, I'll tell you something with my eyes."

Maggie slowly leaned closer and closer until Glenn's eyes merged into one, like a cyclops, then she giggled, and so did Glenn.

"What were you saying?"

"How about I just show you instead?"

When Glenn's hands went to her butt, and rubbed her against him, she grinned, "Now that I can hear."