AN: So, my Tyreese anon from Tumblr wanted some Cyreese fluffies. I hope this one is pleasing to them! I hope it's pleasing, as well, to anyone else who wants to read!
This is set somewhat in the same world as "The Christmas Gift." In this world, Lizzie isn't crazy and they never went to Terminus.
I own nothing from The Walking Dead.
I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to let me know what you think!
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"I think you're wrong about it being almost spring," Carol said, standing up in the metal tub that filled up most of the little ensuite bathroom. They didn't need the bathroom for much—at least not yet. They were still hauling the water in five-gallon buckets and heating it in the deep wood-burning fireplace. Tyreese had the full intention, though, with the spring, to go out and find what he needed to place solar panels on their home and set up a small grid that would give them enough power to have running water, if nothing else. "It's freezing!"
"Take your towel," Tyreese said, offering out the towel in Carol's direction. She was the last to get a bath. She was the last to get a bath every night.
Judith got the first bath while Tyreese did his final check of the fences that surrounded their home. Then, Tyreese could get her down to sleep while Carol got Mika settled in with enough hot water for bathing. Tyreese would go next, and then he would clean the kitchen—since Carol and the girls always prepared dinner—while Carol heated the water for Lizzie's bath and did final checks to make sure everyone was preparing for a long night's sleep.
Carol was the last to bathe every single night. She didn't bathe until all the girls were sleeping, the house was clean enough for them to settle in for the night, and she was satisfied that there was nothing else that needed her attention.
Often, her water was cold by the time she bathed, and she was so exhausted that she normally went straight from the metal tub to the bed.
She was visibly shivering, tonight, as she wrapped herself in the towel and Tyreese stepped in and wrapped his arms around her, practically lifting her over the edge of the little metal tub. When her feet were soundly on the floor, he wrapped her in his arms and held her close to him, warming her with his own body heat. She hummed in satisfaction at the position, and he let her remain there for a moment before he pushed her away.
"Get dressed," he said. "Let's get under the blankets. You'll be warmer."
Carol didn't argue. She nodded her head, rushed into the bedroom past Tyreese, and quickly dried and put on the pajamas he'd put out for her. Tyreese sat on the bed and watched her dress in the flicker of the oil lamp.
"You know—one night you won't bother to put those on," Tyreese said, crawling into bed and getting comfortable to wait for her to join him, "just to take them off again as soon as you're warm under the cover."
Carol smiled at him. She ran her fingers through her hair, picking out the tangles that formed among her curls. When Tyreese had first met her, she'd hardly had hair at all. Now her hair was growing, and it curled around itself and, often in the morning, it stuck out in every direction. It was soft, and Tyreese loved running his fingers through her curls—he loved it even more now that her hair was long enough to wrap around his fingers while he lazily twisted it in the bed.
"The key is," Carol said, crawling quickly under the cover when Tyreese held it up for her, "that I have to get warm before I can even think of anything else."
Tyreese wrapped her tightly in his arms and she groaned out her approval. He squeezed her, playfully, and she made a fake choking sound before she laughed, snuggled a little deeper in against his chest, and sighed with satisfaction. For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Tyreese simply held her, breathing in the scent of her, and the scent of the soap she'd used to bathe. She simply rested in his arms, breathing evenly, and warmed from her bath and the chilled air.
She was cold-natured, and Tyreese never failed to tease her about it. He felt he earned it since, more often than not, he was the one tolerating things as her frozen feet found their way over, early in the morning, to seek warmth from his legs.
"My ice queen," he teased. "The human icicle."
"If you're mean to me, I'll leave," Carol playfully threatened. "There's a blanket on the couch."
"But what would you do without your human hot water bottle?" Tyreese asked. He smiled at her pretended pout.
"I'd find a real hot water bottle on my next run," Carol said. "There are replacements for everything, you know."
"Not for you," Tyreese said, moving to kiss her lips. She accepted the kiss and relaxed in his arms. When she broke the kiss, she rolled onto her back to lounge beside him. They would stay like this a little while—enjoying their quiet, private time while the girls slept—before they turned in to get the sleep they needed for the busy day that awaited them. Every day, in this life, was a busy day. But, at the very least, Tyreese could say that he slept well every night, now.
Tyreese rubbed his hand lazily over Carol's body. He brushed his hand over her breast and felt a nipple jump to attention like it was trained to respond to even the slightest suggestion. He ran a calloused palm over her arm to feel the flesh rise up in goosebumps below it. He gently touched the soft skin of her throat, testing as he often did, to see how much she still flinched at his tenderness—a reminder that, before they'd declared themselves married in the little house that they now called home, she'd known very little tender touch.
He hoped they might have sex together, but even if they didn't, he simply enjoyed the time they had together—talking, laughing, and touching. He appreciated her, after all, in far more than just a sexual way. They'd even been married, or so they called it, for probably close to a year before they'd ever enjoyed physical intimacy beyond hugs and chaste kisses. It had only been Christmas—or the day, during the winter, that they'd declared to be Christmas—when she'd first given herself to him and they'd officially consummated their marriage.
"You're only half frozen because there's nothing to you," Tyreese teased. "You're scrawny. If you had the extra padding that I have? You'd be warm and toasty like I am."
"You make me warm and toasty," Carol said.
"And you keep me well fed, with delicious food, enough to do that," Tyreese said with a laugh. He kissed her again, and trailed his hand down under the blanket to rub it down her side. He let it come to rest on her hip, over the cotton pajama pants she was wearing. She'd let him know, soon, if she was interested in more before they turned in to sleep. He flexed his fingers, feeling out the flesh beneath them. "You know—I wasn't going to say anything, but…I think you might actually be…filling out some." He flexed his fingers again, feeling evidence of the slightly more abundant flesh that was beneath them now and hadn't been before.
Carol pulled away from him as though she'd been burned and, in case he didn't get the message that she hadn't appreciated his comment, she put her hand on his arm to push his hand away.
He laughed, quietly and to himself, at the fire that burned, suddenly, in her eyes.
"I was teasing you," he said.
"You weren't," she said sharply. She wanted to pretend she was angry at him and, all of a sudden, he wished she was angry at him. He could see in her eyes, though, that the emotion she was grappling with wasn't anger. Her chin quivered slightly, and she closed her mouth tightly to keep anything from escaping.
"Oh no," Tyreese breathed out to her, moving back toward her and reaching out to bring her back into his arms. She fought against him, but not sincerely and not for more than a second. "Oh no—see I was just teasing you," he insisted. "Honest. I was."
"About being fat?" Carol asked.
Tyreese laughed to himself.
"About—plumping up a little," he said. He knew that there were a great many things he had to be careful about. Her first husband—the man she'd been married to when the world had descended into the madness that made up their new normal—had abused her mercilessly. He'd abused her body so that Tyreese still ached to see the scars and to know that repeated injuries left her with joint aches and pains that flared up with damp, cold conditions. Her first husband, Ed, had also abused her verbally and mentally, though. So, Tyreese knew that he had to be careful about things that he said—about tripping proverbial landmines, so to speak.
He had to be careful about how he acted when he was angry. He had to be careful about his tone and volume of voice when he spoke to her. He had to watch his words. He had to remember that anything he might ever criticize her about was something that she was criticizing herself about a thousand times more harshly. She didn't need his help to tear her down. Instead, she needed his help to build her up.
And he had to remember that Ed had especially dragged her self-confidence through the mud when it came to believing that Tyreese could really, truly love her. She was still learning to believe that he found her beautiful, sexy, and interesting. She was still learning to trust, too, that every day wasn't the day that he was going to change his mind about all that.
Apparently, she was also sensitive about her weight.
Tyreese checked his tone carefully.
"I think you're beautiful," he assured her. "And I think—you would only be more beautiful with a little more meat on your bones."
"You do not," she protested, but she didn't fight away from him.
"I do," he said. He smiled to himself, pleased that she was relaxing again. He moved away just enough to see her face. "I really do." He winked at her. "A little something to hold onto wouldn't be the worst thing. And a little padding on those hip bones when they're real close to mine could be a welcomed thing."
She smiled at him. It was faint, but it was there. She relaxed. She rolled back on her back beside him. He moved next to her. He let his hand trail over her body again, palm flat, to feel her. He glided his hand over her thighs and back up to her hips. He let his hand run over her breasts again, pausing to cup one, before sliding down, again, to come to rest over her stomach.
"Beyond that, if you gain a little weight, I don't have to worry so much. If you get sick, at least you'd have something stored up if you can't eat or drink. When I said—I thought you were filling out a little," he assured her. "I meant—I liked it." She frowned at him, again, and he shook his head. "Why? I'm serious. I love you. I love—it. All of you."
"Ty," Carol said, her voice a little shaky. He hummed at her and brushed his fingers across her cheek to soothe her. "I don't think it's food."
Tyreese laughed to himself, but the words—even if they really meant nothing to him—made his chest tighten.
"What else would it be?" He asked.
Carol stared at him. That was all she did. She stared at him. He looked at the worry and concern around her eyes. He looked at the pleading in her eyes as she practically begged him to understand. She begged him to read her mind.
Maybe, in some way, he was able to do just that. His stomach felt like he had a sudden attack of butterflies. He wanted to smile, but he wasn't sure if such an expression was allowed when she looked so worried—so potentially devastated.
"Do you mean—what I think you mean?" He asked. She simply continued to stare at him. He nodded his understanding. She was frozen by her concern over his reaction, perhaps. "Am I right to think that—it's nearly spring and…shall we say that, maybe…you're in full bloom with some little seed we planted?" Carol let only the slightest hint of a smile turn the corners of her mouth up. She nodded gently. "How long—do you think it's—how long have you thought that maybe…there was something there?"
"A couple of months," Carol offered quietly.
The fluttering in Tyreese's stomach returned.
"You didn't say anything?" He asked. It was a rhetorical question. He knew she hadn't said anything. This was the first he'd heard of any of it.
"I thought it would—go away," Carol offered.
His chest flooded with the need—the desire—to comfort her. In those few words, she slammed him with the weight she'd been carrying around, for at least a couple of months, without letting him or the girls help with her burden. He pulled her close to him and he kissed her forehead.
"But it didn't," he said.
"Not yet," Carol said.
"It won't," Tyreese offered.
"If it does?" Carol asked.
"We'll deal with it," Tyreese said. "But for now?"
"Do you want it to?" Carol asked.
Tyreese looked at her. He tried to read her expression, but he couldn't get a reading with which he felt confident.
"Do you?" He asked. She shook her head, and he kissed her lips this time. Twice. Three times. He stroked her cheek again as he pulled out of the kisses. "Then let's just think of good things," he offered.
"What do we do?" Carol asked.
Tyreese laughed to himself.
"What is there to do, Carol?" Tyreese asked.
"There's so much to do," Carol said. "Ty—if I'm going to have a baby, if it's really going to happen? We have so much to do. There's so much to get ready."
"Shhh," he breathed out, doing his best to soothe her. "Then we'll do it all," he said. "That's all there is to it. We'll make sure that you—get plenty of good food. That we have everything we need. We'll just do it all. And we'll start tomorrow. But for now, I think some rest might do you good." He kissed her again, closing his eyes, and he let the kiss last for a while as he drank in the simple pleasure of having her next to him. "I love you," he breathed out when the kiss broke. "And we'll just—do everything we need to do."
She smiled at him. It was a soft smile. It was an exhausted smile—evidence that she'd been carrying this for a while and it had been far heavier than she'd let him know.
"I love you," Carol said. "Are you sure you're—not angry?"
"Is it mine?" Tyreese asked. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he laughed. He was teasing her and she was teasing him. She didn't look genuinely upset in the way that she had before. "I'm not mad," he said, brushing his fingers over her stomach. It was still relatively flat. She was still thin. Too thin. Soon, that would change. He let his palm rest there, and she didn't brush it away. "I'm very happy. And you need to rest," he said.
"Don't you need to rest, too?" Carol asked with a laugh. The sound of sleepiness was already drifting into her voice.
"I do," Tyreese said. He laughed quietly to himself and rubbed his fingers, again, delicately over her stomach. She closed her eyes like she might sleep—like the gentle touch might lull her into drifting off. "But first, I'm going to just…stay up a bit. Watch you sleep. Think about things. It's all new to me."
"I'm sorry," she breathed out, her eyes still closed.
"Don't be sorry," Tyreese said. "Besides—I need a few minutes to say a few prayers."
"Prayers?" She asked, still not backing away from the sleep she'd succumb to soon.
"For a healthy mama," Tyreese offered. "And—a healthy baby." A smile played at her lips. She sighed, peacefully, but no longer drew herself far enough away from her dreams to speak. "And—maybe a few selfish ones for a son?" Tyreese teased. "After all, I'm already surrounded by women."
Carol laughed, breaking her sleep just a little, but she kept her eyes closed. She did move her hand, covering his to pat it.
"You love it," she said.
"You're right," Tyreese assured her. "I absolutely do. Every bit of it."
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AN: I hope you enjoyed, anon, and anyone else who read. You wanted some babyfic and, if you know me at all, you know I could write you two dozen "baby" fluffies. I hope you liked this one. Let me know if there are any other scenarios you might like!
Please don't forget to let me know what you think!