Alright, kids, this will have to tide you over until mom gets back from the Congo. I'm hunting mysterious catfish big enough to eat people. I'm gonna eat so much blackened catfish...chomp.
Chapter Thirty-Four: Azacca II
**Carol**
It was just as the sun was peeking over the eastern sky, casting beams of golden and pink light through the trees of the forest, when she got up and began packing for the trip.
Daryl, still resting in bed, awake, but idly sharpening his combat knife over the edge, eyed her quietly, Clyde resting his huge head on his stomach.
"You'll be back before nightfall?" He asked.
"I hope," she said, stuffing a box of old crackers into her pack and shifting her shoulders to readjust her breasts, they had been aching for the past week at odd intervals, but she knew it only meant one hell of a period was about to come up. They only ever ached when she got a bad one.
"Here, give me that damned old knife of yours," he said, motioning her over to the bed as she picked up her worn knife, the one that used to be his.
Exchanging her hunting knife for Salt, Daryl nodded. "You can borrow mine til you get back."
Tossing the knife and it's sheath at her pack, Carol propped herself up over him and leaned down to kiss him, pushing his scraggly hair off his forehead, out of his eyes.
"Thank you."
His hand wrapped around her waist, not quite on her ass, but not anywhere near her hip either. It was sort of in that no man's land between ass and hip.
To her surprise he remedied that right away, dropping his palm down over the curve of her ass and squeezing.
Daryl was slowly getting better at the intimacy thing, only lately he was like a teenage boy just discovering sex and realizing his girlfriend was ready, willing and able.
She pulled away enough to look at him with wide eyes, before laughing.
Here was a man who sort of scared her the first time she laid eyes on him, who had a sort of crass, rough mannered, truckstop terror type who'd start fights in roadhouses just to get his testosterone out.
Daryl was anything but that man on the inside where it counted. She would never admit it to anyone, but he had more old school chivalry than any man she had ever met, including Rick and Glenn. The Lieutenant had some form of chivalry, but it was more Southern Gentleman than knight-in-shining armour.
Still, she had to admit, some days when Daryl was working hard and all sweaty and scratched up, she fantasized about just being taken by him, wherever they happened to be, in any manner he happened to see fit. Then again, lately her hormones were working overtime when it came to him and his cute little ass and the way he swaggered about.
"I have to go," she said, resting her hands against the pillow on either side of his head to push up.
"You've got time," he replied, the other hand moving to cup her other cheek. Dragging her on top of him, pelvis to pelvis, Daryl cleared his throat. "We could make it fast enough, no one would miss you." He said roughly.
Carol was just doing the math to figure out if they did have enough time, when someone knocked on the door to their shack.
"Mais, allons! Whatever you're doing in there, it's most likely a sin!" The Cajun shouted through the door.
Pushing out of Daryl's arms reluctantly, Carol sighed and headed for her pack, strapping the sheath onto her belt and moving for the door with Daryl leading the way.
The Cajun nearly fell inside the shack as Daryl yanked the door open and Clyde leapt out.
"Jesus," the Lieutenant said, looking them both up and down, giving Clyde a pat on the top of his head. "Was I right about the sinning?"
"I don't know. What'd you do with your woman this morning?" Daryl shot back as they all made their way towards the SUV they were planning on taking.
"We have a saying down on the bayou, Texian. Ne jamais renoncer à l'âne, ou elle va revenir à vous mordre à l'arrière."
"How's that translate?" Carol asked.
"Very well," the Lieutenant shot back, taking her pack and tossing it into the back of the SUV for her.
Glancing beside her, Carol laughed as Daryl shook his head at the soldier.
"Basically, in plain old Texian English, it means 'never give up the ass or it will return to bite you in the rear'." The Lieutenant finished, closing the back hatch of the SUV.
"You ever notice how this asshole weasels out of answering questions almost all the damned time?" Daryl asked her loud enough to be heard by the soldier.
The Lieutenant beamed broadly, but said nothing.
Carol, watching as the young Kowalski, Michonne and Glenn all neared the vehicle, turned to her scruffy man and offered Daryl a small grin. "I'll be back soon." She assured him.
He shifted on his feet, still not liking the idea of her going without him, but nodded. Not since the last journey she had resulted in her being chased up a ladder onto a roof in a nun's habit by a crapload of walkers. "Yeah." He grunted.
"Take care of Clyde, don't kick him out of bed," she said. "Despite what he does to you, the poor thing loves you."
In the manner she had come to find typical of Daryl, he didn't give her any grand farewell, just nodded and wandered off, most likely to skulk on the wall.
"Don't worry about him," Merle said from beside her where he had arrived almost silently. "He'll be pissy for a while, but he'll have gotten over it by the time you come back."
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Merle**
When his little sis turned to him, he offered her a wide grin.
"Take care of yourself too, Merle," she said. "I don't want to come back to a gong show."
He scoffed.
The little thing his baby brother had been shacking up with hesitated only briefly, before wrapping her arms around him for a hug.
It threw him off his game of taunting her and he leaned in to allow it for a second, his remaining hand moving to pat her back.
"Alright, don't get disgusting now," he growled, pushing her away. "Jesus knows you love me."
Carol grinned widely at him. "Bye, Merle."
Slipping a pistol into her hand, Merle leaned in. "Anyone gives you any shit, don't hesitate, sister." His brother's woman gave him an odd look, enough of an odd look to merit Merle offering her up a scowl. "Don't give me that look, just take the fucking thing."
At her small grin, he sighed, remembering Mary Agnes and her 'tenderness' and decided to test it out on a familiar woman first.
"Um," he cleared his throat. "Ah, you look…I hope you feel, like, healthy and stuff."
Was that tender? Did it involve more of that hugging shit?
Looking Carol up and down, Merle scowled. Maybe he wouldn't.
At his side that fucking Cajun chuckled, bowing his head to hide it.
"Fuck off, coonass."
"I'm going to let that one slide, because you look like a bioque right now." The Lieutenant said, grunting as Annie flew at his legs, her dog yapping at her heels. "Alright, wild thing, ease up on me, boo."
Scowling, Merle stormed off, passing the dumb assed soldier's nun on his way towards the dorms.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Grace**
Watching Merle storm off, Grace pulled her over shirt around her body tighter and approached the Lieutenant quietly. She still found it a little hard to look him in the eye, not after the day and night they spent in the cocoon of her bed, not after the incentive she had offered him.
Still, she noticed since their 'rest' period, the Lieutenant was more docile around her, at the moment he was bending down, sort of arching his tall frame over her protectively, hands coming up to rest over her upper arms.
Between them, Annie squirmed and reached up to press her hand against Grace's stomach, missing the mark and touching her a bit lower, nowhere really vulgar but eerily close to her mark considering the topic she was about to raise. "Are you pregnant yet, mommy?" She asked.
Grace felt her face grow hot and ducked her gaze to avoid Lafayette's. They may have taken a firm step towards familiarity in the bedroom, but they most certainly did nothing that would result in that. She wouldn't allow those sorts of shenanigans to occur under her thumb at the convent.
"Annie Louise," the Lieutenant said firmly. "Why don't you run back inside, I left my gloves on the table beside the bed, could you get them for me, boo?"
The little girl looked up at him with her haunting hazel eyes. "Was it something I said?"
Laughing, the Cajun stepped back from his protective stance over Grace and knelt to peer at the girl. "Not at all, my girl. Give me a hug."
The little one wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, kissing him on the cheek without prompting and whispering something in his ear.
Grace could only imagine the wicked things the girl was telling him.
Pulling back, Annie hopped and skipped off, Boo the dog at her heels as always.
"What'd she say?" Grace asked, moving to stand beside her Cajun as they watched Annie get into the dorms safely.
"She said if I do ever put a baby in you, she wants to name it Elmo."
"That is not happening. Ever."
The Lieutenant scratched at his eyebrow with his thumb. "Yeah, but, there was a Saint Elmo, wasn't there?"
"Erasmus," she corrected. "And I don't care."
"Come on, Philomena, be a sport." He taunted, curling over her again, bringing them into their own little space in their own little world.
She allowed his hands to spread over her ribs, his thumbs to boldly push against the soft flesh of her breasts through the bra she wore. But only because his eyes captured her and put her into a sort of trance, because his wicked mouth was curled just right at the corners to cause her to lose her senses.
"We're not naming our baby Elmo," she murmured, not even realizing what she was saying.
He smiled against her lips, before stealing a kiss.
Remembering herself and how crafty the Cajun was, she pushed him off her and away with small, but strong hands. "Alright, back off, you swamp giant."
"You just say that because you're small enough to be a wood sprite."
"How dare you! My height is perfectly acceptable for a woman!"
"Five-three is perfectly acceptable for a legal dwarf, beb."
"You miserable cur." She stated. "I'm five-four and a half."
"That half an inch makes all the difference," he teased.
She pointedly looked down at the front of his pants. "Yes, so I've heard."
Drawing her into his arms, despite her half-hearted attempts to avoid being mauled by the so-called swamp giant, Grace felt Lafayette beam into her hair, pressing kisses everywhere he could. "It's remarks like that that remind me why I love you so much, honeychild."
Before Grace could say anything further, Annie was there, pushing between them, holding the heavy duty, military issue gloves up to the Lieutenant.
"I found them!" She sing-songed.
"That's my girl," the Lieutenant said, taking his gloves from her. "Now go and fetch me a beignet and a hot cup of coffee."
"Fate," Grace scolded.
The soldier beamed widely at them both, and pressing a hand to his tender ribs, stooped over to kiss Annie quickly on the top of her head and pulling Grace in for a deep kiss on his way back up.
"Be good, my girls."
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Annie**
Being scooped up by Mr. Tyreese, Annie could see the vehicle driving off forever until it reached the end of the road.
In his arms, Annie sighed and poked at a pattern on his shirt, Boo dancing and twirling at his feet.
"They'll be okay, kid," Mr. Tyreese assured her.
Looking behind him to where Mother Mena and Mr. Rick had gathered to watch the departure as well, Annie smiled at them both, especially Mr. Rick, who was fast becoming one of her favourites at the convent.
"Think they'll bring that Mr. Soldier back?"
Tyreese set her down and she looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the rising sun.
"I don't know."
Shrugging, she skipped over to grip Mother Mena's hand, looking up at her. "Can I go play on my swing?"
"Of course, sweetheart, I'll be in the garden if you need me."
Annie nodded, scooping up Boo the dog and waddling off with her in her arms. She stopped short halfway there when she spied that boy who threw dirt at her, sitting under the walnut tree.
Setting Boo down, Annie scowled and marched over.
"You can't be here!" She stated.
He ignored her, reading a book.
"You dummy," Annie growled. "I said you can't be here, this is my tree and my swing and you're a—" she broke off shouting at him when she caught sight of Mr. Dixon standing on the sunny side of the church with Sister Mary Agnes.
He'd save her swing from that boy.
Annie stormed over, heading for the big man.
"Mr. Dixon!" She shouted. "Mr. Dixon, Mr. Dixon!"
The man wasn't paying attention, he was too busy talking to Sister Mary Agnes, so Annie grabbed hold of his good hand and tugged. "Mr. Dixon!"
"Jesus, fuck, what?" He snapped.
Annie, immune to his grumpy tone, released his hand and stuck her hands on her hips. "That boy is sitting under my tree and he's reading and I don't like him!"
"So?" Mr. Dixon demanded.
"Pick him up and throw him over the wall," Annie stated. She assumed when Mother Mena cautioned her about bad things happening to people over the wall, that that was where bad people went.
Mr. Dixon looked over at Sister Mary Agnes with a scowl and Sister Mary Agnes knelt down to bring herself eye to eye with Annie. "Have you tried making friends with him, sweetie? He's probably lonely."
"He's not lonely, he's a jerk!" Annie objected.
"Hey, snotface," Mr. Dixon snapped. "Go deal with him yourself, you're old e-fucking-nough to handle these things on your own."
"I'm not," Annie argued. "And I won't make friends with him! I'd rather cut off my hair and climb into a wooden box with snakes."
"Holy fuck, cut the goddamned dramatics," Mr. Dixon shouted. "I'll go see what the deal is with that kid. Fucking little shit-midget…"
"I love you, Mr. Dixon!" Annie declared happily, gripping Sister Mary Agnes' hand and watching as Mr. Dixon ambled his way towards the walnut tree.
"You really adore him, don't you, sweetheart?" Sister Mary Agnes asked.
Annie nodded. "When nobody is looking he lets me crawl into his lap and he tells me about the time he crushed a man's eyesocket and other things."
The lady chuckled.
The one thing about Sister Mary Agnes that Annie always liked was that the lady never seemed to mind some of the stuff Mother Mena would.
"Mr. Dixon is the strongest man in the world! He can do push ups with one arm and also he can lift me up when I'm carrying Boo! I bet he could punch someone so hard his head would fall off!" She kind of hoped he would do it to that boy under the tree.
"He's nice to you, isn't he?"
"Um-hm." She frowned when Mr. Dixon came back to her without having punched the kid's head off.
"Alright, squirt, he says he ain't going to bother you, so just go and swing."
"But he will, he does!" She growled.
"Tough nipples, get moving!" He barked back.
Annie jumped and hurried off, knowing that tone meant trouble.
..-~-..
The Cajun Dialect
Allons - Let's go!
Bioque - Idiot
..-~-..
DarylDixon'sLover - Thanks!
shelly2 - Okay so it wasn't a Merle chapter, but I'm working on it, I'm working on it...I swear!
Brazen Hussy - I promise, Merle is working up to a little some'n, some'n.
Merle's Right Hand - Jesus, fuck, who on earth do you know who enjoys classic cars? I would dry hump the hell out of them and call the ne...oh, it was me, wasn't it? You were alluding to me.
Girl in the White Dress - Damn, now I'm craving honey basted cat.