Crossbows, Choice and Cherokee Roses

A/N ~ I'm not even going to pretend there's any plot here, this is just fluff. Just one big long fluffy conversation. Literally nothing happens. I seriously considered naming it Big Blue Bambi Eyes. That's how pointless and fluffy this one shot is.

When This Was Then

[ Nostalgia and imagination aren't always what they're cracked up to be, and sometimes they're better. Daryl thinks she's beautiful. Pre-4x1.]

"I miss fry ups. Ain't something I thought I'd ever say, but I miss 'em. Greasy sausages and egg and those hash things you got with 'em."

"I miss a warm bath after a long day."

"I miss taco trucks, rubbery cheese an' hot peppers."

"I miss beds that are a little above prison-quality."

"Gravy."

"Libraries and cheesy movies."

"PBJ."

"Smell of just-cut grass."

"Toast."

"Ok, Daryl, all you're saying is food," Carol grinned, giving him a look as he shifted back against the wall from his seat at the head of the bed in his cell; she was sitting at the foot, fiddling with his poncho, carelessly thrown across the matress, with a look that made him feel like she was teasing him. Felt like a Saturday. Nobody was keeping track of days anymore, but Daryl always figured the feeling really made it. He never routinely worked or religiously went to school, but there were days that eased into themselves, flowing into a ceaseless, sunlit span of time that required no effort to inhabit. Glenn and Maggie volunteered to go on a run into town, one of the Woodbury guys, some ex-chef, was trying to scrape together a decent meal for tonight out of the bland stock they had, and the kids had started some twice-damned game that involved a lot of running and shouting. It was kinda nice, in a way.

"So?" He smiled. "I grew up on squirrels I shot and microwave ready meals. If I'd have known the world was gonna end I would have become a better cook before I lost the chance."

"Right," Carol allowed, big blue Bambi eyes trained on him. "Ok, turn it around. What don't you miss about the old world?"

Daryl considered. A lot - a hell of a lot. Stuff he wanted to tell her, stuff he already had, stuff she just seemed to know about, like he did her. But he didn't want to weigh their endless afternoon down. That was for another time. "Social services on my ass, trying ta hook me up with a 'real job'."

She gave an embryonic laugh. "Small talk about the weather."

"Nobody ever talked ta me about the weather, small or big." Daryl liked it when she got talking so lightly, so freely. Sometimes it seemed like she was from a whole other world, although it always seemed like they were from the exact same place.

"Seriously?" Carol raised her eyebrows slightly. "You've never had an awkward conversation about the temperature?"

"Never."

"It's warm today," She generalized, glancing around. "This is Atlanta. We're meant to have a good summer. Bit of rain, though. At least the plants'll be happy."

"You're right, that's awful." Daryl grinned. "Don't ever do that again." He paused, searching. "I don't miss kitchen appliances breakin' every two minutes."

"I don't miss seeing bills come through the door."

"Ain't that the truth." He never really paid bills. Seemed like a waste of time, till they cut off the electricity. "I don't miss guys in suits thinkin' they're better than everyone."

"Which is why I don't miss high school reunions."

"Um, hey," Sasha, at the gaping entrance to Daryl's cell. "Charlie said he'll be done with dinner soon. He wants to know how many he's serving for. You two in?" Daryl glanced across at Carol, checking with her, almost, and shrugged.

"Why not?"

"Cool." Sasha nodded awkwardly, with a questioning quick look inside the cell, before she turned to continue the census on post apocalyptic cookery. Daryl turned back to Carol, arms cushioning the back of his head. He wondered what the guy had managed to dish up out of beans, flour, old cereal and more beans. That was all Daryl saw, anyway. Everything they ate came out of a tin now.

"You go." Carol shot, folding the poncho and moving it aside.

Daryl just stared at her. "The hell were you doing at a high school reunion? I thought they were only real on TV."

"They're worse in real life, trust me." Her eyes flickered downwards for a moment, a higher octave of uncertainty singing through her face. He was sure that he'd have missed it if he wasn't watching so carefully. The hesitation trailed into her next sentence. "I met Ed in high school."

"Oh," Oh, Dixon, is that all you got? Oh? Daryl cursed himself inwardly, discomfort prickling hot in his skull and gut, searching a blank page for some way to reply to that. He was so used to it being so natural with her, he could help but allow what naturally got out of his throat. "High school?"

Carol nodded lightly. "Senior year. To be honest, I think I only agreed to the first date because my friends told me to. Even then I wasn't really sure." Daryl never dated. He never had the kind of friends she meant. He never really went to school all that much either, not if he didn't feel like it.

"Why'd ya do it then?" He couldn't help it; he was curious. He liked hearing her talk about her life. Nothing ever felt like prying when it was with Carol. "Go on the date,"

"Because. He was… sweet. At first, and he was interested. He left chocolates in my locker once. My friends thought that was adorable." She paused. "I was flattered that he liked me, but didn't really know what I was doing to be honest. I never really had guys lining up, if you know what I mean."

Daryl didn't. "The hell not?" He hadn't taken school seriously; it was just a place to hide out when his dad was in a mood, or any of Merle's worthless dealers came knocking. He didn't spend much time around normal peers, and he couldn't understand how someone like Carol, someone so kind and strong and smart who never judged anyone wouldn't be the most popular person.

"I'm not saying I wasn't sociable, I had lot of friends. I was just a little quiet. I was the one people came to for advice about other people -" She grinned. "Why they thought I'd be any help, I don't know."

Daryl was still too hung up on this information to process the link between his mind and his mouth. "But you're beautiful,"

Idiot. There he went, probably making her uncomfortable. He forced himself to calm down, awkwardly embarassed, staring into the sheets on the prison bed beneath his feet. He didn't have to say that. That really wasn't necessary. Relevent, by a stretch, but not needed. Daryl racked his brains for a change of topic but the only thing that jumped to mind was that he had never told a woman that she was beautiful before. Entirely unhelpful. He could almost hear Merle having a great time taking the piss out of him.

"So you think I'm beautiful, now?" Daryl made himself look up, mind scalding, and meeting her baffled eyes. There was a slight pink tinge to her face.

"Yeah, so?" Daryl muttered defensively. The strident silence that ensued was both thick and fuzzy, and painfully aware of itself.

Carol's gaze found her lap again, and she sook her head slightly. Daryl was endlessly thankful that she shattered the quiet for him. "Nothing. Thank you." In her split-second pause, in the space she recovered her feather-heavy humour, Daryl realized she probably hadn't been called that in a long while, with the shitbag and the end if the world and everything. "You're not so hard on the eyes yourself."

They were both grateful when Glenn, just back from his run, stopped by to let them know they were late for the big wasteful apocalyptic-gourmet dinner. Daryl didn't know why his brain jumped immediately to what Sasha had said that they weren't interrupted when Woodbury Cook finished. In an attempt to regain some shred of ease and dignity, he told her, as they walked to dinner, "If I'd 'a gone to high school with ya, it would have been more fun. And I'd have made you trust your own instincts."

Carol supressed a smile. "Please, if you were in high school with me, we wouldn't have exchanged a word in the hallway."

"No, we'd have been friends. BFFs for life or some shit," She laughed, sitting down outside, where David had put up some benches, and Hershel had decided they should make use of the premature summer. Daryl frowned, taking the seat opposite her. "What?"

She smiled again. "Nothing. It's just - it's funny. Hearing you talk like that. About dates and things."

Daryl nodded. "And for the record, I would have asked you out if we'd been in high school together."

"Ok, you're cute."

"Stop," Daryl smiled. Whatever that guy had cooked up, it didn't smell half bad.