Hello! So, I know that I said that this was it. This was suppose to be the very last chapter, but it was getting ridiculously long and I thought it would be okay to break this one into two parts. I'm not sure if I nailed it or not but I hope so because this one took a long time, and many rewrites, to get to the point where I felt okay with it. Monday I'll post the second part of their eighteenth year. Thanks for reading!

Chapter Nine

Eighteen Years old... Part One

He'd never realized it before but he had next to nothing as far as material possessions went. He had some clothes. His crossbow. A few old snapshots of him and Merle back when they'd been boys. That damn picture of Carol that she'd sent him when they were thirteen. All of them in cheap frames.

Moving into a lake house should have intimidated him a little bit but he had spent enough time there that he didn't feel strange about the move at all. That house had been a safe haven of sorts. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Carol had been his safe haven, but the house held nothing but good memories for him. Not like this one. A home was a place where you felt safe. A home was a place where you could feel good about yourself and a home was somewhere you could feel the presence of all the good things in your life. This house wasn't a home. This house had been a prison for more years than it hadn't and he wouldn't miss it. Not one damn bit.

"So, you're really doin' it, huh?" Merle asked, leaning into the door frame.

"You know I am, Merle. Known it for months now," he said, shouldering his bag and his bow.

"You don't make too much workin' at that garage, boy. How you gonna pay the bills?" Merle asked.

Daryl shrugged. "She has money. It was put in a trust after Dean was killed."

Merle whistled. "How much?"

Daryl shook his head. "Enough that I ain't gotta worry about my job not bein' enough to keep the lights on."

"She gonna get a job?" Merle asked. He was apparently stalling.

"Nope. She's gonna enroll in school next year."

Merle scoffed. "Waste of time."

"Not if she wants a teaching degree it ain't, and that's what she wants to do."

Merle made a sound of approval. "Goddamn it. How the hell did you end up lucking out? You got a hot girl that you're about to move in with, who has more money than you're comfortable mentioning."

Daryl shrugged. "Maybe cause I'm the sweet one that didn't try to fuck my way through Georgia."

Merle laughed. "Yeah and for all your efforts I bet you you won't be able to fuck your way through a paper sack. Practice makes perfect, baby boy."

Daryl couldn't not laugh at that. "Trust me, Merle. I've spent the last eighteen years of my damn life listening to your ass talk about what to do in the sack. If I ain't a damn pro then I'm sure as shit close enough."

Merle looked completely stunned for all of five seconds and then he laughed like a braying jackass, slapping Daryl on the back. It wasn't like Daryl made a habit of talking about stuff like that but he could tell that Merle was a little bit down that his one and only brother was moving out. If that was all Daryl had to do to put the man in a good mood then he'd do it. "Hell, kid, I don't think it much matters anyway. Ain't like she knows what she's doin' either."

Daryl groaned but didn't comment. At least Merle looked happier than he had for the last few days. "I ain't worried," he muttered, heading towards the door.

"When you comin' back?" Merle asked, following him out onto the porch.

"Jesus, Merle. I'm basically movin' to the back yard. I'm sure I'll see you around."

Merle nodded and leaned against the porch railing. "Well, if that girl of yours can cook you best bring me somethin' to eat!" He called.

Daryl waved after he had his stuff strapped to the back of the bike. He looked back towards the porch and saw Merle still standing there, arms crossed, frowning. He sighed. "Hey, maybe you can stop by tomorrow sometime. I got the day off. We can take that boat out for a while. Drink a few beers. Just you though. Not you and ten of your asshole buddies."

Merle nodded and actually grinned, shaking his head. "You own a boat. Goddamn. My little brother is steppin' into the good life. Gettin' drunk on a boat sounds good. Like a redneck debutante ball."

Daryl laughed. He'd secretly miss Merle a little bit. Even if he wasn't going to be too far, he had gotten used to him being there. Then again, not worrying about Merle and his friends was going to be a hell of a stress relief. Just him and Carol in a house. No rules. No worries. No pressure.

God, that was lie. He felt pressured. All these years, all the things they had been through, what if this didn't work out? What if he got on her nerves? What if... he shook the thoughts, reminding himself that back when they were fifteen, after Dean had died, they had both taken on the role of grown up in that house. They had worked together and they did what they had to do to get past the hump. Anything standing in their way from here on out wouldn't be half as hard as spending the last eight damn years being away from each for most of the year.

They would be okay. Their relationship was solid and made out of some unbreakable substance. He knew it. He was just getting the damn jitters because this was kind of a big deal.

He pulled down the lane and parked the bike in the driveway. With his bow and his bag he walked around the side of the cedar shingle house and then just about had a damn heart attack when he saw her sitting on the back porch steps, her legs pulled up and her hands over her face.

Had something happened to her mom? Did something happen to her! "Carol," he called, louder than he meant to but unable to smother the panic.

Her head snapped up and she wiped at her eyes. He noticed then that all the windows were pushed open, along with the sliding door that led from the patio into the kitchen. Wide sorrowful eyes met his.

"What happened?" He asked as he climbed the steps. That was when he smelled it. Smoke and something... bad. He made a face.

She sat there, looking completely miserable. "I wanted to surprise you. I had the stupid cook book and I followed the stupid directions and I wanted you to come home to a really special meal and... Well, I nearly burned down the kitchen and the food was horrible even before it caught on fire and I'm going to be a horrible wife to you someday."

He bit the inside of his jaw, forcing himself not to laugh at her because she really did seem extremely upset, but it was... well, it was fucking funny. He reached for her hand and pulled her up from the step.

"I had the whole stupid night planned and now we're stuck here dealing with a stinky house with empty stomachs. It was suppose to be a good night!"

He dragged her into the kitchen, forcing himself not to grimace at, what smelled like, burnt broccoli. It was still smoky so he pulled the chain on the ceiling fan. "It ain't that bad. I can go to town and pick somethin' up."

She made a face. "We can't live on take out! I'm completely useless. I also need you to look at the vacuum. I think I broke it. And all of my white clothes are pink because I wasn't paying attention to what I was throwing into the washer. I can't cook! I can't clean! I can't even do the laundry! What are we going to do? Starve to death and wear filthy clothes in our pig sty house? If you tucked tail and ran right now I wouldn't blame you!"

His brows shot up at the desolate expression on her face. "It ain't that bad," he said again.

She looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Not that bad? Daryl, it's horrible. I can't do anything that I'm suppose to be able to do."

He finally rolled his eyes, grabbed her under the arms and lifted her up, sitting her on the edge of the counter. "Are you serious?"

She nodded and she did, indeed, look very serious.

"That don't make no sense," he scoffed. "How the hell do you expect to be perfect at all this shit when you ain't ever done it before?"

She shrugged and looked down but he forced her face back up so she had no choice but to look at him. She sighed and finally threw her arms over his shoulders. "You really think we'll be able to do this?"

He nodded. "You're just being dramatic."

She made a face. "I wanted you to get here and realize that I'm a totally capable adult that can do something as simple as run a house without destroying it."

"We're eighteen, not thirty."

"Still," she huffed.

"I like to eat take out."

She scowled, her brow furrowing. "You'll have clogged arteries and won't live to see thirty if I don't learn to cook soon."

He snorted, his hands going to her hips. "You'll learn."

"You can fix a leaky faucet. You can fix the car if it breaks down. You can repair a broken gutter. You can already do all the stuff that the man needs to know how to do."

He couldn't do this anymore. He laughed, a loud sharp sound that startled her, causing her to jump. She was distraught and it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen.

"You're laughing at me!" She glared.

He nodded and grabbed her wrists when she tried to shove him away. "I am," he grinned.

"This isn't funny," her eyes were narrowed on his.

"It's a little funny," he shrugged and then he kissed her before she could start all over again.

She finally relaxed, her fingers threading through his hair. He flexed his fingers into her hips, pulling her closer. She deepened the kiss then and instantly his hands slipped up the back of her shirt. This was it. They were alone in the house. Their house. And they could do whatever the hell they wanted to do.

Her hands came around, her fingers working at the buttons on his shirt. An electric thrill shot up his spine. The sun was setting and the room was bathed in shadows. His lips moved from her mouth to her throat and that's when it happened.

His fucking stomach growled.

She pushed him away slightly but he didn't go far. "Daryl, we need to get you fed."

At those words he growled into her neck but he didn't argue. Nothing would kill the mood quite like a rumbling stomach in the middle of the throws of passion. He stood there for a moment until his heart rate was back down to a normal pace and then he stepped away from the counter, but he took her with him. She cried out in surprise and wrapped her legs around him. "Fine," he muttered. "Let's get some damn food and then I'll fix the vacuum."

She grinned and then planted her feet on the floor. "You sound so domesticated."

He nodded sagely. "Yeah, I feel domesticated. I've just dealt with my first irrational female breakdown. I've heard stories but never seen one up close and personal before. I thought it was all a myth."

She pursed her lips and glared at him. "Real funny," she muttered, snatching her keys off the table and stomping out the door. He followed her down the steps, trying to keep from laughing all over again.

This was going to be great.

~H~

They ended up back at the house, in front of the TV with a box of pizza between them. He ate half of it and she ate one piece, minus the crust so he ate that too. She seemed edgy now, which was better than the mood he'd found her in but when she was edgy he got edgy too. Like it was contagious.

He kept glancing at her but her attention seemed to be riveted on the sitcom that was droning on. He glanced at her again just as she was glancing up at him and theirs eyes locked for a few awkward moments and then she looked away quickly.

"You tired?" He asked after another bout of silence.

She shrugged. "A little. I smell like burned dinner. I think I'm gonna jump in the shower," she said hurriedly. She stood up and quickly disappeared down the hall.

He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. Something was going on in that head of hers but he wasn't sure what it could be. Surely she wasn't still upset that she'd messed up dinner. He turned off the TV and took the leftover pizza to the kitchen, tossing the box in the fridge and rinsing their plates himself before grabbing his bag and bow and trudging down the hall to the bedroom.

He hit the switch with his elbow and then froze there in the doorway, his eyes going to the bed. He realized then what was eating at her. His eyes raked over the familiar room. It had changed a lot over the years as she had grown up. The bed was new. It was bigger than the one he had grown used to. There was a new dresser and chest of drawers. The room wasn't a girly as it used to be. He wasn't even sure when she had done all of this. She had made the drive from South Carolina to Georgia every weekend. She must have done it the week before. And he was impressed. It looked like the room that belonged to a couple of adults, even though he didn't feel very much like an adult right now. He felt like a kid right on the brink of adulthood. It was a weird feeling.

And now he was nervous. Really fucking nervous.

He stepped into the room and dropped his bag and bow by the bed before sitting down, bouncing slightly. Well, it wasn't loud... He felt his pulse quicken and he swallowed hard. God, was this it? And if it was it then was he going to mess it all up? He didn't know what the fuck he was doing, despite his bold words to his brother earlier.

The only light in the room was a small lamp burning in the corner. He thought about turning more lights on. He didn't want her to come in here and think that he was trying to seduce her with some romantic lighting or anything. But then he didn't want her to think that he didn't want her because despite his nerves, he wanted her. He'd wanted her for a long time now. But now that it was possibly crunch time he was getting more and more antsy.

He laid back, willing himself to relax, staring up at the ceiling. He heard her coming down the hallway and his damn pulse picked up again. She paused, probably just realizing that the rest of the house was dark. Finally she started walking again and when she stepped into the room he forgot how to breathe.

There was a towel wrapped around her head and she was wearing a robe that just barely covered her ass. She met his eyes. "I forgot to take clothes with me," she explained quickly.

He didn't say a word.

She blew out a breath and then reached down, grabbing his bag. "Have you unpacked?"

He shook his head. "I didn't know where to put anything."

She unzipped his bag and took out a stack of folded clothes and started putting them away in drawers. He raised up on his elbows.

"I can do that," he muttered.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "For Christ's sake, let me do something."

He rolled his eyes but didn't say anything else. Not until she came back, reached into the bag and pulled out a box that was wrapped in newspaper, taped with a strip of duct tape. He frowned when she held it up. There was a folded piece of notebook paper stuck to it. She opened it up and her brows pulled together.

"It says that this should last you a few days at least," she held up the paper. "Merle signed it."

"Oh God," he grumbled and reached for the small package but she was quick, dodging him and tearing the paper off.

The box wasn't labeled. It was just a small cardboard box, also duct taped and Carol took it upon herself to tear right into it while Daryl watched on in horror, knowing that there could be any number of things in there. The rush of heat that flooded her face from her neck to her hairline told him that it was definitely something horrible.

"A few days?" She remarked, her brows going up as she picked something up and pulled it out of the box. "Dixon's must have a hell of a sex drive." Two strips of foil wrapped squares dangled there from her fingers. "Two dozen in a few days?"

Goddamn Merle! He reached up, snatching the condoms from her and then shoved them into the top drawer of the nightstand just so they were out of site. Jesus, that man was such a son of a bitch! And the worst part was, Merle had been the one to have the foresight to even think of taking some sort of precaution.

He glanced at her and saw her fighting a smile. "What?" He asked, letting his back hit the mattress again.

She shrugged delicately and the robe slipped off her shoulder a little. "I've been on birth control for months. Merle probably should have kept those for himself." Like it was no big deal at all she took the towel off her head and draped it over the back of the chair in the corner of the room. "You gonna get ready for bed? My parents aren't here and we're adults that actually live together now. You're allowed to sleep in something other than your pants."

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He hadn't thought of that. He hadn't thought of the small things. Like what she expected him to sleep in. Usually when they slept together when they stayed together after renting a room somewhere he just slept in his pants but this was different. At home he slept in his boxers. But then if he did that maybe she'd think that he was trying to screw her and he didn't want her to think that. But then again, this was home now.

Goddamn it.

"You're gonna have to relax," she said, hands going to her hips.

"What?" he asked, standing up and running a hand through his hair. He was suddenly filled with so much anxiety that his palms were starting to sweat. What the hell was wrong with him? It was just Carol. It was the same girl he'd been in love with since before he knew the meaning of the word. And it wasn't just him. She'd been acting just as nervous up until now. But now she seemed fine and he was feeling like there wasn't enough air in the room.

They had been together for... ever. It very much felt like that anyway. They'd been messing around for years. He'd had plenty of time to prepare for this and he didn't feel prepared at all. He knew what it was. It was that fear that had been ingrained in him from the time he understood the human language. The fear of not being good enough.

She sighed and stepped right up to him, her fingers going to work on his shirt. "You're acting like you're thirteen again."

Because he felt like he was thirteen again for fucks sake!

She pushed his shirt away so he tossed it onto the chair with her towel. He met her eyes then, holding her gaze and trying to shake the sudden panic attack. He felt like a dumb ass but the longer his eyes were on hers he felt himself start to calm down, reminding himself again that this was Carol and from the very first time he met her, he had been good enough. Because he was good enough. The rest of the world could say that he wasn't but as long as she said he was, that was what mattered and he needed to stop acting like a fucking girl.

Her eyes slid down and then she traced the scar on his chest with the tip of her finger. The touch was feather light, warm and familiar. She surprised him when she dropped her hand and took a step away. She held his eyes and then worked the knot of the robe loose.

He watched her, fascinated and barely breathing as the garment fell to the floor at her feet and then she stepped back into him, pulling his face down to hers and catching his lips with her own. Work roughened hands went to her bare hips. Suddenly, he didn't feel nervous anymore. Not at all. He'd wound himself up too tight for no reason because, despite the fact that he was as experienced as she was, he simply knew. On some primitive level he knew exactly what she needed him to do. He'd just needed that small push. And damn if her stripping right there in front of him hadn't been the push he'd needed.

He wasn't sure how they ended up on the bed. He wasn't sure when in the hell the rest of his own clothes had ended up on the floor with her robe. Instinct took over, his hands seeming to know where to travel, his mouth quickly following suit. There was no reason to rush and he didn't. He refused to rush.

Every inch of her skin seemed to be screaming for attention and he was thorough, meeting her eyes often, darkened and heavy lidded as she gave herself over, allowing him to take his time, devouring her with his gaze, his touch. He wasn't biased. He lavished the sensitive skin of her wrist with as much enthusiasm and patience as he had her breast, because every inch of her he tasted was a part of the whole that made up who she was and she was everything. Had been everything since the second their eyes had met.

Soft sounds filled his ears, echoing in his mind and then traveling down to settle heavily in his chest. Every whimper, moan and murmur was another electric jolt, spurring him on to keep up the exploration until the sounds were more demanding, her body trembling now with every caress. The need growing more intense until she was pleading.

He slid back up her body, hovering over her, knowing what to expect, knowing that she knew what to expect, but still feeling that twinge of regret when he moved, felt her body give in to his and then the sharp cry that escaped her. For a few long moments he didn't dare move. Searching her eyes until she bit her lip and nodded slightly before pulling his face down to hers.

The rest came just as naturally as everything else between them ever had. They moved in sync, neither racing in search of an end, instead moving fluidly with the other. Their bodies knowing exactly how much to give and take from the other, working without thought, more physically gratifying than anything either of them had experienced before but also touching somewhere deeper, some safe place inside them both that only the other was ever allowed to glimpse. The doors to those secret places thrown wide open, in full view and the emotion in the moment was an intense and palpable force between them. That huge and sometimes scary thing, that mysterious link that gave them the strength to endure all those years of separation, that gave them the patience to wait and to love from such a distance, seemed even greater now.

She gasped and her nails bit into him harder than before. When he met her eyes they were wide and unfocused and he almost stopped moving. But then he felt her body shudder under his, her lips parting in surprise. He kissed her then, drinking in the sound of his name on her lips, losing himself in the moment, shocked at just how fucking incredible it felt. The pleasure wasn't brief. It wasn't like anything he had ever experienced before, a tidal wave of physical sensation that nearly knocked the breath out of him, her body greedily pulling him deeper, until he couldn't be sure if they hadn't somehow melted into one being. It was a strange feeling, but not unpleasant.

He wasn't sure how long it took for him to gain the ability, or the will, to move. His head was on her chest and he listened until her thundering heart grew more steady under his ear before he pushed himself up, bracing himself with his elbows.

She grinned and traced his bottom lip with the tip of her finger. "You know, for as nervous as you were, you put on a hell of a performance."

He snorted and eased away from her but he didn't get far. Her arms went around his neck and held him in place. He raised one eyebrow and grinned right back at her. "Yeah? And for a woman that can't cook, clean or do the laundry, you have a knack in the sack." He kissed her quickly before she could smack him. The heavy mood was slipping away and he was relieved that things could move on to a lighter tone without any awkwardness. But he should have expected it. It was them. It was just how things worked.

"That was mean," she muttered, squirming away from him and then boldly standing up, like being completely naked in front of him wasn't a big deal at all. She walked to the closet without a backwards glance and he swallowed hard before snatching his boxers off the floor and pulling them on before she could turn around.