AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
There are about two/three more chapters to go in this one.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
Daryl sat in his chair and tied the laces on the dirty brown boots that he always wore to work. They were splattered with paint and primer at this point. Wear and the amount of stooping and kneeling that he did left them scratched and scuffed, and left the sole cracking at the point where his foot bent. He bought the same pair of shoes for himself every year to replace the old in the same size and color. They were tried, true, and comfortable once he wore the stiff ones a couple of days and got them broken in. Once Daryl found something he liked, he wasn't too keen on looking to change things up.
Daryl laughed to himself when he caught Carol eyeing the boots from where she was standing in the kitchen, waiting to wash Sophia's cereal bowl so she could declare all the breakfast dishes washed besides the one that she kept eating small bites from at intervals.
"I seen you put these outside last night," Daryl said. "Found 'em on the porch after I had to search the whole house while you were showering."
Carol hummed at him.
"They're filthy," she said. "It seemed to me like the porch was the best place for them. I think you need another pair of shoes, Daryl. Surely you can afford that."
"I got another pair," Daryl said. "Change 'em out once or twice a year, but it ain't quite time to change 'em out."
"Maybe it is time to break them out," Carol offered. "It's worth at least considering."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Perks of living with me," Daryl said. "You get to live with my nasty ass shoes. I promise—I break out the new pair and it won't be long before you can't tell the difference in that pair and this one."
"Maybe they'll go on the porch too, then," Carol said, her voice rising up at the end with her amusement.
Sophia sat at the table, half reading the back of her cereal box while she ate and half watching the back and forth between Carol and Daryl.
It was nice to have that back and forth with an adult sometimes. Especially one that wasn't one of the assholes that he worked with. The exchange was much more pleasant when his "partner" was Carol. Daryl enjoyed, honestly, having the chance to have that kind of back and forth with Carol. Even though he'd had to go in search of his boots—not finding them where he usually left them—he liked the knowledge that he was sharing his life with someone who was finally feeling comfortable enough to do things like move his dirty shoes to the back porch because she felt like they were tracking mess into the house that she'd have to clean up.
It was nauseatingly domestic and Daryl was enjoying it far more than he would have dared to admit out loud.
And Sophia was enjoying it too. That much was clear just from the expression she wore while she ate breakfast. Cereal alone had never amused her so much.
"Maybe they will," Daryl said with a chuckle. "Don't do 'em no harm long as it's not raining."
"No," Carol said with a snort. "We wouldn't want them to accidentally get washed or anything. That would be a tragedy."
Daryl hummed at her, trying to cover over the fact that he wanted to give her kudos for actually coming up with a witty reply to what he'd said.
"I'ma have you know they get washed at least once a day. It's prob'ly once a day I'm out there washing out some car we gotta give back and they get a good soaking then. Cracks the leather, though. And if my feet ain't in 'em when it happens? Insides get real wet and then they don't dry out forever. Start to stink bad enough I can't even stand myself."
Carol crinkled her face up in response to his description of the smell of the souring shoes.
"Eeewww, Daddy!" Sophia protested. "I'm trying to eat."
Carol laughed and glanced at Sophia. She smirked at Daryl then.
"Maybe I'll work on that too," Carol said. "There are ways, you know, to fight smelly shoes."
"Not when the feet they come off are so stinky," Sophia added, looking back and forth at the two of them with a smirk curling across her lips.
"Yeah," Daryl said. "You would be one what knows about stinky feet. I've sure woke up with my share of 'em in my face where you get all turned around in the bed."
"My feet don't stink!" Sophia declared loudly and quickly. She wasn't offended, and that much was clear, but she had always been the type that wanted to get involved in the back-and-forth exchanges that took place around her. She'd never been the kind of child of that was content to live under the "children are seen and not heard" rule. But, then again, she'd never actually been raised to be aware that such a rule was in place in some rungs of society.
Finishing with the laces, Daryl stood up and shook his pants' legs down over the top of his boots. Then he walked over to the bar that somewhat divided the kitchen and living room—and where Carol had found a basket to catch all the odds and ends he normally emptied directly from his pockets onto the bar—and gathered up the contents of the basket to fill his pockets once more.
"I ain't gonna be gone too long," Daryl said. "Not today. Nobody else is workin' today, though, and I got a few things it would help me to get ahead on."
"Will you be home in time for lunch?" Carol asked.
Daryl sucked his teeth and considered it, running through all the things he had hoped to accomplish while he had free reign of his space.
"Late lunch?" He asked.
"We can make it as late as you want," Carol said. "As long as it's not running into dinner."
"Make it one or so," Daryl said, "and I'll be home. Got a couple things here I'd like to do too. Long as it's a nice day—might tackle the grass in that back yard. Gettin' high enough we could lose Soph out there."
"We would definitely lose a puppy," Sophia offered.
Daryl bit the inside of his cheek. Sophia wanted a dog in the worst possible way, but Daryl hadn't really felt able to take on the responsibilities of a puppy before. They hadn't had, before, anywhere that one could run free during the day—it was one of the reasons that he liked the fenced in backyard of the house—and Daryl hadn't had the time and energy it would take to handle work, taking care of Sophia and the house, and teaching a puppy all the things that it needed to know.
But now, he wasn't exactly doing things alone anymore. Now there was a little less stress and demand on his plate.
Now there was someone else there, and that might mean that they finally got Sophia the dog she'd asked for, religiously, for every Christmas and birthday that had passed since she was five years old.
Daryl walked over to the table and put his hand on Sophia's shoulder. He patted her shoulder and slid his hand closer to her neck, gently squeezing until he hit the spot where she was ticklish and she turned her head to the side, trapping his fingers between her shoulder and face. He laughed to himself and pulled his hand free to release her from the tickling torture.
"We ain't the only ones that lives here now," Daryl said. "And Carol and me ain't exactly talked about a puppy."
"It's a good thing to talk about," Sophia said. "You should prob'ly do it. And soon. I'm not getting any younger."
Daryl shook his head. Once glance at Carol, who was standing by the sink and eating the breakfast in spread out bites that she didn't seem to think she could sit down and enjoy at the table, told him that she was fighting laughter as well.
"Yeah," Daryl said. "I hear ya. We'll talk about it. Just remember—only good kids get puppies, so you ain't gonna 'cause no trouble today. Not when we might be talkin' about puppies tonight, right?"
Sophia grinned up at him and shook her head vigorously.
She'd be a model child today—not that she wasn't normally quite a good kid, at least in Daryl's opinion.
Daryl leaned down and placed a kiss on the side of Sophia's face. She turned her head and placed a kiss on his cheek as best she could, leaving a little milk behind, and then returned to eating the soggy remains of the cereal that she was taking her precious time finishing.
Daryl walked over to Carol, then, and placed his hand on her shoulder like he'd done with Sophia. He'd learned that any such movement elicited a jump from her if she didn't see it coming, so Daryl tried to be as obvious about his intentions as he could. This time she didn't jump. Instead, she leaned her face to the side—much the way Sophia had done—and, instead of trapping his fingers, she nuzzled them with her cheek.
"You know you can sit down and eat at the table, right?" Daryl said. "All at once—like you don't gotta just keep stealin' bites of your food."
Carol smiled at him.
"I know," she said. "I just—I guess I'm used to just eating while I do other things. I'll sit down for lunch. What do you want?"
"Sandwich is fine," Daryl said.
"One?" Carol asked.
"Two," Sophia said quickly. "One with just ham and cheese and the yellow bag potato chips, and one with peanut butter and jelly because it tastes good, but you're still hungry if you eat it alone."
Carol looked at Daryl and raised her eyebrows at him as the smile she was swallowing back took its place on her lips. Daryl smiled at her and nodded his head.
"She's right," he said. "Knows me. What can I say?"
"Creature of habit?" Carol asked.
Daryl thought about the question and nodded his head.
"Yeah, I guess," he said. "That and—if I like somethin', I don't really see much need in changing it up."
"That's oddly comforting," Carol said quietly, her smile softening. Daryl dipped his head and offered his lips to her and she took him up on the offer, planting a soft kiss on his lips that he could take with him to work.
"You gonna be OK here today?" He asked.
"Fine," Carol said. "We'll be staying inside all day. At least—I will. I was talking to Miss Sophia earlier and it turns out that she's never cooked dinner before. So I thought—if it's OK with you—we might work on that? I'll help Sophia cook something and, maybe, we'll bake something for dessert?"
Daryl glanced at Sophia. She was watching them, the cereal growing ever soggier as she forgot that she was supposed to be eating it, and she quickly turned her head when she caught Daryl looking at her to pretend that she hadn't been watching. He saw her rock back and forth in her chair, though, doing her own little kind of dance in anticipation of a special cooking lesson with her mother—and, possibly, of serving the spoils of her labor to Daryl for dinner.
"Better'n OK," Daryl said. "Sounds like a good idea. You got what you need or—you need me to run get somethin' 'fore I head in?"
"It's all here," Carol assured him.
"And if it ain't," Daryl said, "Merle ain't workin' today so you can call over there if you need to and tell his lazy ass to run to the store for you."
Carol laughed to herself and shook her head.
"I think I'll hold off making demands of people just yet," she said. "We'll be fine. And we'll have sandwiches ready for you when you get home for lunch."
Daryl hummed at her and kissed her once more, well aware that their daughter was watching them with some interest. She seemed to like to "catch" any exchange of affection between the two of them and, in the past few days, they'd been indulging her a little with a few kisses here and there and some obvious touching of hands or shoulders within her sight.
"Soph—you go outside? Don't stray far," Daryl told Sophia. "Remember your Ma can't go looking for you. Don't let me hear you freaked her out or anything. Stay in the yard."
"I'm not going anywhere," Sophia assured him.
"We can handle it, Daryl," Carol assured him. "We're going to cook and we're going to—see what else we can get into. We're going to have a nice day."
"I'm sure you are," Daryl said.
As soon as he'd said the last of his goodbyes to the both of them, and left Sophia negotiating a little something else to top off her breakfast of soggy cereal, Daryl left the house and closed the door behind him. He dismounted the front steps quickly and made his way to the truck. The neighborhood was quiet. Most of the houses hadn't even been sold yet, since the development was so new, but the few that had sold were mostly owned by old people and small families like his own who were seeking a quiet and peaceful existence.
The sun was barely up and his only known neighbors, whose house was two doors down and across the street, seemed to be enjoying their lazy Saturday by sleeping in. There wasn't any proof that they were up and about. Even the big German Shepherd that usually greeted him by barking at him from the backyard of the yellow house wasn't out in his fence.
Daryl lit a cigarette as soon as he was in the truck and sat smoking it for a moment while he sorted through the mail that he'd never brought into the house—always grabbing it out of the mailbox through the truck window as he pulled up—and then he finally put on his shades and backed the truck from the driveway.
He was anxious to get to work—a sensation that was not entirely unknown to him—but more than that he was anxious to get home because he knew, inside, Carol and Sophia were already plotting how they were going to spend their Saturday and Daryl didn't want to miss any more of it than he absolutely had to.
