AN: This is just a short and fun little one shot. Someone requested Carol introducing Daryl to her family and him being nervous. Really, I didn't want to do the whole family thing, so I just decided to take from that what inspired me. So, this is the nervousness before the big moment.

I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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"Son of a bitch!"

Carol winced.

Once upon a time, she would have winced to hear someone shout those words in her vicinity because she would have known that the next thing coming was probably a fist—and it was probably coming toward her face. Now, she winced because she ached to know that Daryl was as stressed out as he was.

She walked to the bathroom door of the small motel room and tapped at it gently with her knuckle. From behind the door, she could hear a string of mumbled curses and expletives.

"Daryl?" She said softly. "Can I come in?"

She didn't take the growl to heart. It wasn't directed at her. Not really.

"Yeah," Daryl said, sounding defeated. "Come on."

Carol opened the little bathroom door and, immediately, she smiled.

"You look very handsome," she offered.

Daryl frowned at her with enough intensity that someone might have imagined that a beloved pet had just died or that he was four years old and his beloved red birthday balloon had just been heartlessly popped by some asshole with a pin.

The robin's egg blue shirt was practically formal wear for Daryl. The jeans were so new that Carol could still see the slight variation in color where he'd pulled off the size tag. He'd let her cut his hair the night before—something that was long overdue—and he'd shaved this morning, as was evidenced by the tiny little dots of bloody toilet paper stuck all over his face and neck.

"What happened?" Carol asked.

Daryl frowned and picked up the washcloth he'd dropped on the bathroom counter, or, perhaps, that he'd thrown at the counter in his frustration. He went back to rubbing at his shirt.

"Dropped shavin' cream on my damn shirt," he said. "Now it's got a big ass spot on it an' I don't got another one that's decent to wear."

Carol crossed the space. She caught Daryl's hand. She stilled it. She took the washcloth from him and, for just a moment, she forced him to let her hold both of his hands with her own. He stared at her, frowning.

There were signs of a storm across his face, perhaps, but Carol could see that his eyes didn't reflect the anger that the lines on his face showed. His eyes told a different story entirely. It was part of the reason that Carol loved this man with every single fiber of her being.

She gave him a smile to reassure him, and she squeezed his hands to ground him.

"It's fine, Daryl," she said.

"Look at it," he said, staring into her eyes. "It's a big ass spot."

"It's just shaving cream," Carol said. "And—you cleaned it off. Now it's just water. It'll dry, Daryl. And you won't even be able to tell that it was there."

"What if it stains?" He asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

"Then, it stains," she said. "And—I'll get it out, when I get home, with the stain remover."

"She's gonna look at it all day sayin' he can't even have the damned decency to wear a clean fuckin' shirt," Daryl said.

Carol laughed.

"No," she said. "She won't. Because it won't show. But if it does? Nobody will say anything."

"Not when I can hear her," Daryl said. "But she'll say somethin' later. When I can't hear her. When she's tellin' you…"

He stopped short. He caught himself before he finished. He tugged at his hand, trying to free it from Carol's. She already knew that it was a nervous reaction. He chewed at his cuticles when he was nervous. He wanted his hand back to gnaw at his fingertips until he brought blood. Carol held his hand. She wasn't going to let him hurt himself.

"Until she's telling me what, Daryl?" Carol asked. "That my fiancé has a spot on his shirt?" He frowned and she shook his hands. "What is it you're afraid of, Daryl? Be honest. Put it out there. And then, we can handle it and move on."

"When she tells you I ain't good enough for you," Daryl said, practically spitting the words out. He didn't like the taste of them. They probably stuck in his mouth like thorns. They stuck in Carol's heart—where they seemed to go directly after leaving Daryl's lips.

"You're perfect for me," Carol said. "The best thing that ever happened to me."

"She'll say you can do better," Daryl said.

"I can't do better than the best," Carol said. "Daryl—she's going to see how good you are for me. She's going to see…everything. How handsome you are. How good I look…healthy. She'll see how happy I am."

"She'll think I'm a step up from his ass," Daryl said. "But she'll know I still ain't shit."

Carol laughed and shook her head.

"That isn't true," she said. "None of it. That's just your father speaking, Daryl, and he's not welcome here. No more than Ed is, right?" Daryl's Adam's apple bobbed. "Do you want me to tell you what—what Ed told me to think when I met Merle for the first time? When I had to win over your brother?"

"I don't like the shit Ed left in your head. He was a dick. And a liar."

"And so was your father," Carol reminded him. "I know you're nervous, Daryl. I've been there."

"Merle is fuckin' Merle," Daryl said. "And he already loves you."

Carol smiled.

"And my mother is my mother," Carol said. "And—you're bringing me home for the first time since…Daryl? I have hardly been home since I married Ed. He never let me go, and he didn't like for her to visit, and…I was too ashamed. She's going to love you."

Daryl sucked in a deep breath and let it out.

"What if she don't?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded. She understood. He needed her to address his worst-case scenario instead of simply trying to dismiss it.

"Then—I'll thank her for her opinion, Daryl, and we'll get back in the car. And we'll go home. And…I'll take a long bath, and you'll drink a beer and watch a little television, and then…" Carol leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him, now, to pull him close to her in a hug. She smiled at him as she held onto him. "And then we'll snuggle up together in the bed, Daryl, and we'll sleep good knowing that it doesn't change a single damn thing about us."

"We're still gonna be married?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled and nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "One week. Private ceremony. Family only—and only if they earn that invitation. Hershel Greene's house. Miss Jo is baking the cake. Sophia gets to be the flower girl. That's not going to change."

"Good," Daryl said.

"Besides—there are other things that aren't going to change, either," Carol said.

Daryl smiled, clearly pleased.

"You mean—the adoption," Daryl said. Carol mirrored his smile and nodded. "You think your Ma's gonna be mad we didn't bring Sophia?"

"I think—she'll want to see her soon," Carol said. "I know she will. But this will give her more incentive to come to Fair Hope to visit and, maybe, to even come for the weeding. And, I guess, I wanted to…pace myself?"

"You're nervous, too," Daryl said.

"Little bit," Carol admitted, still holding onto him. He seemed to visibly gain some strength from simply knowing she was nervous. If she needed him to be strong, he absolutely could be—no matter what he had to face. "You really think she's gonna be happy about all this?"

"I think she's…not happy with me about everything that happened with Ed. I think that…she has a lot to come to terms with…"

"We all do," Daryl added. Carol nodded.

"I think that I'm going to let her come to terms with everything at her own speed," Carol said. "The most I can do is open a door and extend an olive branch. Apologize and acknowledge that—it hasn't been easy for me, either, but…life? It's changing in the most beautiful ways for me, and I want to share that with her instead of dwelling on the past."

"And you think she's gonna think I'm alright?" Daryl asked.

"I think she's going to think you're wonderful," Carol said. "Because you are. But I also think that…no matter what? It doesn't matter. I love you, and that's not going to change."

Daryl smiled sincerely, and Carol felt some of his muscles relax under her fingertips. She kissed him when he leaned in for a kiss, and she indulged him when he made the move to prolong it. He was smiling at her when the kiss broke, and the smile was contagious.

"So—you're sayin' that a big ass spot on the front of my shirt ain't enough to run your ass away?" Daryl teased, clearly feeling better.

"No more than two pink lines scared you away," Carol teased back.

"I was in it for forever before then," Daryl said.

"I know. Me too," Carol agreed quickly and cheerfully. She ran her fingertips over the spot on his chest. "Look. It's almost dry. The spot's almost gone, Daryl. You can hardly even see it."

Daryl laughed to himself. He backed off away from Carol enough to examine his own shirt in the mirror, and then he examined her. She had chosen the yellow dress to somewhat compliment Daryl's attire. She liked it, and Daryl liked it. It was pretty, and it made Carol feel pretty. It was the kind of dress that Ed would have never let her wear, but Daryl encouraged her to buy things that made her happy.

He encouraged her to simply be happy.

"Can't say the same about this," Daryl said, affectionately petting the small bump. "She's gonna think—that's the only reason you marryin' me, you know."

Carol covered his hand with her own.

"It doesn't matter what she thinks," Carol said. "Doesn't matter what anyone thinks. Because—if we're being honest? Nobody matters to me but you."

"And Sophia," Daryl said quickly.

"And Sophia," Carol confirmed. "But she couldn't be happier, and neither could I. We love you, Daryl, just the way you are." Carol smiled at him and winked playfully. "Big ass spot and all."