A/N: Content Warning!
"You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France!"
Nora laughed along with the rest of the group when Carl blanched at his first taste of wine. She didn't know if it was because she was sitting in a normal chair, or behind a locked door, or eating a hot spaghetti dinner, or that she was on her second Soco and cola, or some combination; either way, she was feeling better than she could ever remember feeling.
"Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud."
"Not you Glenn."
"What?"
Daryl sauntered over close to where she sat and filled an empty cup with straight Southern Comfort. It must have been for Glenn since he appeared to have no qualms about drinking directly from the bottle.
"Keeping drinking, little man. I wanna see how red your face can get."
Nora laughed again and threw back the rest of her drink. It felt amazing to let go and stop worrying. She rose to make another, clapping awkwardly when the group raised a cheer in Jenner's name.
"Here's to you doc. Booyah!"
Daryl leaned against the counter, a gun shoved down the front of his pants and the bottle in his hand. She came close to him, reaching out to pull it away. He smirked, refusing to release it but tipping a healthy serving into her glass.
"Forget the coke."
"But I like the coke."
"Forget the coke. This ain't LA, darlin'. This is Georgia."
Nora took a sip, smiling as the spicy warmth spread over her tongue. She liked it when he called her "darlin'".
–––
Daryl didn't bother dealing with the empty bottle, choosing instead to leave on the floor of his room when he left to seek out another one from the cafeteria. He ripped the wrapping off with his teeth and took a swig. He didn't care if anyone else joined him; he was going to get shit-faced tonight and if it ended up being a one man party so be it.
As he made his way back down the hall towards his room, a door was flung open ten feet in front of him. Jacqui's voice rang out.
"Ok, goodnight honey! And drink a glass of water or you'll wish you had in the morning!"
Out stumbled Nora holding a bundle in one hand and kicking the door shut with a foot. He also happened to notice that she wore nothing but a towel wrapped around her middle. She used her free hand to push her damp hair out of her face, and then noticed him.
"Some kinda' party in there I wasn' invited to?"
He took another swallow, not caring if she saw his eyes roving over her. She shouldn't be running around the hall half naked if she didn't want him looking. Nora smiled crookedly.
"Not really."
She stepped closer.
"Seems my bag was misplaced when we got here, and Jacqui just came and told me it was in her room," she was awfully close now, "innit that funny?"
He didn't know where the twang in her voice had suddenly come from, but he couldn't have cared less in this moment. His eyes had just fallen on the pile of clothes in her hands; he choked, coughed, looked closer. On top of the plain sweats and t-shirt were a couple of very intriguing things made out of black lace. No bows or jewels or cutesy days of the week. Just sheer, black lace.
"You aways got those things on under yer jeans?"
His voice sounded thick. She smiled lazily. Her response made his tongue dry.
"Everyday."
Nora's arms brushed against his chest.
"Just cause the world is over doesn't mean I don't still like lookin' nice," she met his eyes through her lashes, "that I don't still like feelin' nice."
He backed her up against the wall. The bottle hung forgotten at his side; his other hand planted next to her head.
"Can I tell you something, Daryl?"
She smelled clean, like soap and fresh towels. Maybe a little like magnolias. He noticed a small freckle under her left collarbone; he wanted to touch it, with his fingers, with his mouth. He grunted when she raised a hand behind his head and lightly ran her nails through his hair.
"When Jim got sunstroke, I tried to bring him water but Shane wouldn't let me."
He listened with foggy ears, unsure where she was going.
"Do you wanna know what I kept thinking...over and over again?"
Heat spread rapidly through his body as she leaned her mouth right next to his ear; her lips brushed against his neck.
"I wished you were there. Wanna know why?"
"Yeah."
Then she arched her body against his, and he became breathlessly aware that she was bare behind the towel. His fingers itched to rip it off and drag her somewhere private. He couldn't remember which way his room was.
"'Cause I knew you would make them listen. You'd let me do whatever I wanted to do. Wouldn't you, Daryl?"
His name crossed her lips in a purr. A very small part of his brain wondered where the hell the Nora he knew had gone, but its voice was stamped into dust by every other part of him. Her toes wiggled underneath the cuff of his pant leg; he gripped her bare thigh, pulling her more firmly against him.
"S'far as I'm concerned you can do anything you want."
Her teeth gently closed on his earlobe. He growled low in his chest. Where the fuck was his room? His fingers tightened on her leg, and she made a soft sound that was the sexiest goddamn sound he had ever heard.
Jacqui's door flew open. They pulled apart sluggishly as she came into the hall.
"Nora-! Oh!" the interruption, combined with the smirk that grew on her face, made Daryl want to drop kick her out of the state.
"I was just checking to see if you'd put your clothes on yet, but obviously," don't push yer lucky lady, "you haven't."
"Daryl! Darrrryylll!"
Was there a place, a mountaintop, a desert island, a goddamn tree house with a retractable rope ladder where he could carry her and not have to worry about anything but making that sound come outta her again?
Glenn wove down the hall with an empty glass in his hand.
"M'face sisn't redyet, Daryl! Hey, where'sher pants?"
"I'm gonna get this one dressed," Jacqui steered Nora away, "We'll find y'all in a bit."
–––
Glenn's arm dangled off the couch as he breathed loudly. He was passed out and Daryl wasn't too far behind him. Jacqui had never brought Nora to find them, and he wasn't sure how much time had past. Daryl stumbled into the hall, trying to remember the name on the front of his room. He had no idea where Nora was; he hadn't thought to watch what room she had disappeared into and he had never felt more stupid or more pissed.
He leaned against a wall, an image of how that black lace might look on her pale skin burning into his eyes. He wanted to rip them off with his teeth; he bet she'd like that. He bet she'd beg him for more if he did that.
Dr. Arnold Roy.
He remembered because of Roy, like his old man. He'd found his own room, anyway.
Tomorrow.
It was just one night. He could wait one night. Probably.
