AN: This is in response to request that someone made of wanting Caryl to dance. It's just a fun little one shot.
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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He'd been eyeing her all night. He wasn't really good at playing coy. Anyone around them would have known that he was watching her. Of course, he wasn't really trying too hard to hide his interest.
A few men had talked to Carol. She'd refused to let any of them buy her a drink. She hadn't wanted to lead them on. She didn't want them to think she was interested or that they stood even half a chance. They didn't stand a chance at all. She was a woman who knew what she wanted. She knew what she liked. And since she'd walked into the place, she'd only had eyes for one man—and it just so happened that he'd barely stopped watching her since he'd chosen his seat at the bar and ordered the beer he'd been nursing for the whole night.
A few women had talked to him. A leggy blonde had sat down right beside him and done her best to engage him in conversation. He'd lit enough cigarettes for her that Carol figured she might have lung cancer by now. Still, even as he lit them at the blonde's nudging request, he was watching Carol.
He'd been making eyes at her over the beer mug, and the alcohol from the fruity mixed drinks she'd downed was coursing through her blood now. It made her feel light, happy, and bold.
She winked at him, when she'd held his eye for a moment, and then her own face ran warm when she saw him blush. He hid his expression by quickly turning his head to show interest in his sweating beer mug as it rested on the bar. Carol smiled, pleased at her ability to move him to blushing from across the room.
She swayed, at her high-top table, with the music that played. There was a dance area—a cute little black and white tiled dance floor. A few couples danced on it—none of them very good. The more she drank, the more she wanted to dance on that black and white checked floor.
And the more she swayed, the closer a certain gentleman who had been eyeing her for at least the last fifteen minutes crept.
Carol gathered up her strawberry drink, her extra napkins, and the half a pack of cigarettes that she had left from the pack that she always brought with her when she went out for drinks. She walked quickly and with purpose. She was proud that, despite the vodka in her system, she wasn't too wobbly on her feet. She'd worn sneakers, though, just in case.
She beelined directly toward the man that she'd been making eyes at all night. He smiled when he saw her coming and nudged the brunette who had taken the leggy blonde's place beside her. He pointed in Carol's direction, and Carol didn't have to be close enough to hear him in order to know that he was asking the brunette to move down and make room for Carol.
Carol didn't miss, either, the curled lip that the brunette threw at her over her shoulder, but she moved down. In fact, she moved half a bar away—just around the elbow bend of the bar—and clearly sat there grumbling to herself about the grave injustice that she felt had been done to her.
"Boy—you pissed her off," Carol said, taking the seat next to him without asking if she could. She pulled out a cigarette from her pack and he lit it without hesitation.
"Was bound to happen," he said with a shrug. "You gonna introduce yourself?"
"Carol," Carol said with a smile.
"Daryl," he said. "You—come here often?"
"Ooh," Carol declared, laughing quietly. "Old ass pick-up lines. I expected better."
"If it works…" Daryl said with a shrug.
"It hasn't worked yet, though," Carol said.
"You here," Daryl offered with a shrug and raised eyebrows. Carol laughed quietly and nodded.
"You've got me there," she said. "I could leave again…if you want."
"Stay," Daryl said. "So—you never said. You come here often?"
Carol smiled and took a long drag on her cigarette.
"Pretty often," she said. "I've been coming here for years."
"Ever—go home with anybody?" Daryl asked.
"Every single time I come here," Carol said.
"Pretty bold," Daryl said.
"Not really," Carol countered. "I know what I like."
Daryl licked his lips. He might have faked it. He might have pretended that there was beer foam on his lips, but there wasn't.
"See anything you like tonight?" He asked.
"As a matter of fact…" Carol said, dragging her words out. She felt her face grow warm at the boldness. She didn't really feel that bold—or, rather, she wasn't really usually that bold. But Daryl made her feel bold. He made her feel daring, and desirable, and, in some ways, powerful.
His cheeks grew red, too.
"Yeah?" He asked, leaning forward in her direction.
"Yeah," Carol said, locking eyes with him. "A—couple things."
She laughed to herself when she saw the shock and surprise register on his face. He hadn't expected her response.
"A couple damn things?" He asked.
Carol laughed louder.
"Well—there's you, clearly…"
"Clearly," Daryl echoed.
"And—I want to dance," Carol said, glancing toward the little black and white checkerboard dance floor.
"I don't dance," Daryl said.
"Please?" Carol urged.
"I'm not gettin' out there and makin' an ass of myself. Not even for the hottest woman in this place with the prettiest damn set of eyes I ever seen," Daryl said.
"Please?" Carol asked again.
"I can't dance," he insisted.
"You don't have to be any good. I'm not any good and, frankly, neither is anybody else out there. Nobody's going to pay us any attention." He wasn't budging. Carol switched tactics quickly. "It's just like sex."
"No, it ain't. It ain't a damn thing like sex."
"It is," Carol said. "It's like…vertical sex."
"It ain't," Daryl insisted, laughing now.
Carol varied her strategy slightly.
"If you'll dance with me? I'll guarantee you get to take me home."
"Got a damn good feelin' it was goin' that way anyway," Daryl said.
"Fair enough," Carol ceded. "But—if you'll dance with me? I'll promise you get some horizontal action tonight." She had his attention. "And—not just any sex," she said, daring to sweeten the pot. She leaned toward him. Her hand instinctively went to his thigh and rested there. He glanced at her hand and then back at her. His pupils dilated. She saw the slight adjustment—and it hadn't gotten any darker. "Your choice."
"My choice?"
"Within reason. Whatta you say? It's a sure thing. And all you have to do is…dance with me. You know…some men here might not say that was the worse thing that could happen to them all night."
"Don't you make fun of me," Daryl warned. "You make fun of me and my ass is out."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Carol said, dragging her finger across her chest in an exaggerated X. Daryl got up, gestured to the bartender that he was leaving his stuff there at the bar, and offered Carol a hand. She smiled, pleased to have won, and took his hand. He'd gathered her into his arms before they even reached the dance floor.
The song didn't matter. The beat didn't matter—neither of them seemed quite capable of finding it, anyway. Nothing really mattered except swaying on that little black and white checkerboard floor with the most handsome man in the bar—the man who had been making eyes at her all night.
"You satisfied?" Daryl asked, relaxing into the dancing now that he seemed to realize that nobody was jeering at them for their lack of skill. Nobody was even paying them any attention.
"Very," Carol said. "Thank you."
"You the best lookin' woman here tonight," Daryl said. "I'm a lucky man to get to take you home. A real lucky man to know I got you as a sure damn thing in my arms right now."
"Half the women here have been trying to get your attention since you ordered your first beer," Carol said. "You could've had your pick all night. I'm a lucky woman to get to go home with you."
Daryl smiled and turned her—entirely off beat with the music and almost too fast. She caught her footing and was thankful for her sneakers. She laughed quietly.
"I can't remember the last time I danced…" Daryl said.
"I can," Carol said. "It was the day you made me the happiest woman in the world."
Daryl laughed to himself. He drew her in closer to him. She didn't protest how tightly he held her. She never had, and she never would. She liked that he held onto her like he would never let her go—and like he would never risk losing her.
"You sure did look good in white," Daryl said with a wink.
"I shouldn't have been wearing white," Carol said. "I wasn't exactly a virgin."
"No," Daryl said. "Maybe you could—wear somethin' white tonight? Practice not bein' a virgin a little more?"
Carol laughed and squeezed him, shaking her body so that he was forced to change his steps in the dance of their creation.
"I did say it was your choice," she ceded.