AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Daryl carried Sophia inside and laid her down on the bed. Carol helped him get the little girl into her pajamas and tucked in with Sophia doing little more than waking just enough to complain about being moved this way and that in the process of being clothed in something more comfortable than what she'd worn at the farm.
She'd taken a bath at the Greene's house, and she'd tired herself out through the course of the evening. There was nothing like a day of super hard play, combined with being doted on by an over-sized family and being allowed to eat her fill of delicious food, to render her practically comatose. She would sleep hard and, without a doubt, she'd sleep all night.
"Is there—anything I can do for you? Anything I can get you or…fix you?" Carol asked, following Daryl to the kitchen after Sophia was tucked in. Daryl opened the refrigerator, stood there a moment staring into it, and grabbed a beer. "Nah," he said, throwing the top of the beer in the trash. "I'm good. Gonna—smoke on the porch. You can come if you want."
Carol followed him outside and sat beside him on the porch step where she could lean against him while he somewhat used the support column for a leaning post.
The beer bottle sat between his legs and, when he wasn't actively drinking from it, he rested his arm around Carol's shoulder and hugged her to him.
"Was a good damn day," he mused.
"It was," Carol agreed.
"I love holidays. Best damn time of the year. Everybody gettin' together. All the food. If I had it my way? We'd have a holiday every month."
"Why can't you?" Carol asked.
Daryl laughed to himself at her comment and, only then, seemed to consider it. He smiled to himself—that crooked half-smile that Carol loved so much—and scratched at his face with his thumbnail. He was actively working on growing a goatee, and it was just at the point of starting to itch. Carol playfully scratched it for him, from time to time, and she teased him that he had fleas when he jokingly made a big deal about how damn good her scratches felt.
Soon, she knew, he would either adjust to it, and learn to ignore the itch, or shave the thing off again and go back to being mostly baby-faced. Carol didn't mind either way. She loved him, and thought he was the most handsome man that she'd ever seen, no matter how he decided to wear his facial hair.
"You serious?" He asked. "You couldn't do that. There ain't a holiday every month."
"Maybe there's not a holiday," Carol said. "But—there could be a dinner. A gathering. That's all that really matters to anyone. I bet that Thanksgiving, itself, didn't make a bit of difference to anyone today. It just mattered that you were all together."
"You ain't wrong," Daryl agreed after a moment of contemplation.
"Then—why don't we do it more often?" Carol asked. "I'll talk to Jo. We'll set up something once a month. If we help her with the food and cleaning up like we did today, then it shouldn't be too much of a burden. In fact, I'm sure that she and Hershel would love the opportunity to see you more—all of you."
"All of us," Daryl said with a smiled, putting emphasis on the last word. "You already forgot that—you're one of us now."
"I haven't forgotten," Carol assured him. "Jo and Hershel were so happy to see Negan today."
"Been a while since everybody was together like that," Daryl said. "Hell—been a while since there was peace like that. Since Negan stopped feelin' like he had to be the biggest dick he could possibly be to damn near everybody."
"Jo wishes he'd find someone," Carol said. "A woman."
"Negan was—he was always an asshole. Come by it honest, really, if you knew his old man," Daryl said.
"Asshole like—your father?"
Daryl laughed to himself and shook his head.
"Asshole like—all the assholes that's around us every damn day," Daryl said. "Asshole like Teeter was. Asshole like—like Negan is. Hell, probably like I am."
"You're not an asshole," Carol said, hugging Daryl's arm for a moment.
"Not all the time, maybe, but I got my moments," he mused.
"Don't we all?"
"Point is—Negan was always an asshole," Daryl said. "Ain't like that's some shit that's come on him new or nothin'. And he weren't always good to Lucy. Hell—Merle ain't been good to Andrea, either, for what it's worth. I mean…shit…I don't know how to say what I'm tryin' to say."
"Negan loved Lucy," Carol said. "Even if—he wasn't very good at it."
Daryl smiled to himself. He nodded his head.
"See? That's exactly what the hell I was tryin' to say. Negan loved Lucy. Even though—he weren't too good at it."
"Do you think that means he'll never love again, though?" Carol asked.
"I don't know," Daryl said. "I don't know what—what that kinda loss feels like. I hope to hell I never do know it."
"You loved Livvy," Carol said. Daryl laughed to himself. "What—don't try to deny it, Daryl. I know all about her from a dozen different sources."
"I ain't—well, I ain't denyin' it all the way," he said. "I did feel somethin' for Livvy. Felt more for her than I'd ever felt for anybody before her. But, hell, I know now that I didn't love her. At least—I didn't love her like I love you."
"You only say that because the feeling here is fresh. New. It's newer than the memory of how you felt about her," Carol said.
"No—I say that 'cause that shit's different," Daryl said.
"My point is that—Negan could fall in love again."
"Maybe he could," Daryl said with a shrug.
"Jo thinks it would be good for him."
"Lovin' you makes me feel like—like my life is worth somethin'. Like every damn thing is worth it—all the shit that just belongs to life. If Negan was to love somebody like that? Hell—it'd have to be good for him. Have to be good for anybody."
"Andrea and I—wanted to propose something," Carol said. "Request something, really."
"Oh Lord," Daryl mused.
"If you don't want to hear it…"
"I'ma hear it," Daryl said with a laugh. "From you or from Merle, because right now Andrea gets anything that Andrea wants. All she's gotta do is bat her damn eyes at Merle an' rub her hand over that big ole belly she's got an' he rolls right on over."
Carol laughed to herself.
"If you really don't want to hear it," she said. She left it hanging. Daryl was already shaking his head. He lit another cigarette for himself.
"I'm mostly givin' you shit," he said. "Of course I wanna hear it."
"Y'all were talking about the big meet up," Carol said.
"Table meet in Union end of next week?" Daryl asked. Carol hummed at him and nodded. "Yeah—what about it? Other than…" He stopped and laughed to himself. "Other than it had Jo askin' us about ten times not to talk business at the table."
"I thought she was going to come after Merle with that carving knife," Carol said, laughing to herself at the memory of Jo's growing frustration as, time after time, the men at the table seemed able to steer the conversation away from relaxing family conversation and back to discussion of MC business.
The MC, after all, was intertwined with every single aspect of their lives. There was only so far they could escape it before it was simply part of every conversation.
"What about it?" Daryl asked again, drawing Carol back to what she'd been about to ask.
"We thought you could—extend an invitation."
"You mean more invitations than we already extended out for this thing? Heads of damn near every club in Georgia's gonna be there. Some of their people. Old ladies."
"What about—other women?"
"Other women?"
"Tarts," Carol said. "Old ladies in training. Wanna bes. Whatever you want to call them, Daryl?"
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Wanna bes?"
"You know what I mean," Carol said, rolling her eyes at him. He gave her that infuriating grin.
"You playin' fuckin' matchmaker for Negan?" He teased.
"Andrea and I just thought—if we could see who was on the market, we might be able to find someone who could interest Negan."
"He's got two dozen whores that trail after him damn near every step he takes," Daryl said.
"Negan doesn't like whores," Carol said.
"He sure seems to like 'em," Daryl said. "He samples his own damn wares enough, if you catch my drift. Ain't quite got penicillin on tap like some of the brothers, but that's only 'cause his ass only fools with the ones he knows is clean. Prob'ly make 'em carry papers an' shit."
"They're all supposed to have proof of clean tests," Carol offered with a shrug. "Once a month at least. More often if they've got some reason to question things."
"You serious? How the hell you know that?"
Carol laughed to herself.
"I run the restaurant," she said. "And those whores that you're talking about do most of the cleaning in the hotel. I'm not rude, Daryl. I've talked to them. If they're not being judged, most of them are actually pretty nice women, and they're not ashamed to talk about what they do if you genuinely want to know more about it."
"You researchin' bein' a whore?" Daryl asked.
Carol smiled at him. His tone and expression gave it away, entirely, that he was feeling playful. Carol didn't mind—she was feeling playful, too. And they had a whole long weekend to enjoy each other—and to enjoy being Sophia's parents, of course—since they'd let everyone know that they were sticking their proverbial heads in the sand, ignoring work and the club, and taking a little time to be together instead of practically ignoring each other as they drowned in a thousand other responsibilities.
"I'm only interested in being a whore for you," Carol teased. "At least—as much as you might want."
The raise of Daryl's eyebrow told Carol that she might have struck an interest.
"I don't know if I can afford a top-dollar woman such as yourself," Daryl said. "What's your goin' rate?"
Carol smiled at him and swallowed back her laughter.
"For you? I'm willing to make a deal. Give me a good kiss—a real good kiss? And when we go inside—I'll let you name your pleasure."
Immediately, Carol saw the change in Daryl's expression. Just the slight change—probably imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him well—gave her a pleasant tugging feeling in her tummy that extended a bit lower as it settled in. His eyes practically darkened. The teasing was all he needed. He was already at least a little aroused—and that was enough to get Carol's attention.
"You might be playin' with fire, Darling," Daryl offered.
"I'll take my chances," Carol countered. "One good kiss—and you can have whatever you want."
Daryl did kiss her, and it was a good kiss. It had to be, it was fueled by his imaginings of what could be coming, and his desire to have her just as he wanted her. The truth of the matter was that Carol hardly refused him anything and, therefore, this was no truly special offer on the table, but Carol assumed that he liked the teasing and the playfulness behind it. He liked the touch of fantasy in a purely safe environment.
"Good enough for ya?" He asked, breaking the kiss. Carol licked her lips and smiled at him.
"Tastes a little like ashtray," she said. "But—pretty damn good."
"Sorry," Daryl said. "I'll—use some mouthwash in the house."
"Before we get down to business?" Carol asked with a wink. Daryl smiled to himself, clearly pleased with the game. "Just—one more thing."
Daryl snorted.
"Price already gone up?"
"Just—listen to what I'm asking. A whore isn't what Negan wants. I mean—it's fine for…for what he's using them for and all. Don't get me wrong. But I think—Negan's changing, Daryl. He's different than he was even a month ago. Negan's going to want an old lady. A real one. If you were to extend the invitation, there might be someone there that caught his eye."
"You mean you an' Andrea might could arrange something."
"Sometimes people need a little help," Carol challenged.
Daryl sighed.
"Fine. I'll talk to Merle about it. That's the best I can do."
Carol smiled.
"Then I've got a pretty good feeling about things," Carol said. "Because—Andrea's going to bring it up, too."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Then Negan's ass is as good as halfway to a weddin' chapel 'cause Merle ain't gonna deny Andrea a single damn thing she wants right now."
Carol laughed quietly and leaned forward. She caught Daryl's lips again in a kiss that she drew out, taking her time to tease him with her tongue. Within a few seconds, his hands were on her back and he was pulling her toward him, trying to get as much contact from her as he could.
She broke the kiss before she was driven to a point of feeling like it would have been nearly impossible not to engage in something, right there on the front porch, that might get them both arrested or, if not arrested, might really annoy any neighbors who happened to pass by.
"Come on," Carol said. "If you're a gentleman and take me to get a shower right now? I won't deny you anything you want, either."
She winked at him and he got up, offering her a hand before he helped her to her feet. She felt a rush of warmth practically roll through her entire body. Such an offer would never be one that she could have made, for instance, to Ed, but she knew Daryl well enough to know that she could trust him. He would choose nothing that wouldn't be good for the both of them.
And, sometimes—and especially with a lover like Daryl—it was nice to simply let her guard down and let him have control. More than anything, it was nice to feel like she could.
Carol leaned into him as he hugged her close and led her inside.
