AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

Admittedly, I'm feeling a little better/more optimistic about this one. Thank you for that!

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

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"Are you drunk, Daryl?" Michonne asked.

Daryl was close enough to her that she could very likely smell the whiskey on his breath.

"I am not," he said. "I'm not sober, but I ain't drunk, neither."

Daryl found both women upstairs in the room they were calling the nursery. Both stopped what they were doing when he knocked at the door frame to announce his presence, not wanting to genuinely startle either of them as he came into the room.

"Please tell me—nothing bad happened," Carol said, her forehead creased with concern as she clearly prepared herself to hear some kind of report of something like brawling in the street.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"A lotta runnin' our damn mouths happened," Daryl said. "But I think—that shit needed to happen, like you said."

"You talked?" Michonne asked.

"I didn't say out loud what the hell I thought I just did?" Daryl asked.

"Did you resolve things, I guess, is what I mean," Michonne clarified.

"I think we did," Daryl said. "Went lookin' for Henry, but…hell if I could find him."

"He's probably with Enid," Michonne said.

"I guess I figured that much," Daryl said. "Couldn't find her, either. Can't hardly find no damn body—where's the kids an' Dog?"

"Playing," Michonne said. "I wanted to help make things comfortable here, and I thought we could handle that without a little extra help today."

Daryl immediately turned his attention to Carol.

His first instinct was to tell her that she was beautiful. She'd pulled her hair up, and just a little of it had worked its way loose to curl around her face, and she was wearing a simple dress in a blue color that looked beautiful on her. With the way the light came through the window behind her, she looked like an angel standing there—his angel. Of course, Daryl knew that his overwhelming urge to tell her how beautiful he found her was probably a side-effect of the whiskey, and it could wait until Michonne left.

His second instinct was to search her face for the heavy sadness that he'd seen in her features lately. He knew, in his gut, he'd done more than his fair share of putting that sadness there, and he wanted to wipe it away completely. He hoped that he was well on his way to doing just that.

"You get it—like you like it?" Daryl asked.

"Why don't I—let Carol show you everything?" Michonne said quickly. "I'm going to check on the children."

"You don't have to leave, Mich," Carol said.

Michonne smiled, and Daryl wondered if it was because Carol invited her to stay, or if it was because she'd used the nickname that Michonne had said she enjoyed hearing. Daryl thought about asking, but he realized that instinct was likely the whiskey, too, so he swallowed back the question.

Michonne insisted that she had some other things to do, and she wanted to leave them to enjoy the late afternoon together. She'd bring Dog back, she promised, and she kissed Carol on the cheek in a manner that seemed even more familiar than she'd ever really been before—the events of the past few days were clearly bringing the women closer together. Carol smiled at the gesture and squeezed Michonne's arms before she hugged her. On her way out of the room, Michonne patted Daryl's shoulder and gave him a quick smile.

The women, he guessed, had spent a good day together—and Daryl appreciated Michonne's efforts to improve Carol's mood.

"What'cha got to show me?" Daryl asked.

Carol's cheeks colored slightly. She shook her head.

"Nothing," she said. "It's just—baby things. I think Michonne just wanted to give us some time alone."

"Two of my favorite damn things right there," Daryl offered. He smiled at Carol's expression. "Time alone with you and…baby things."

"You don't like baby things," Carol said. "You don't care."

"I beg your damn pardon," Daryl said with a laugh. "That's my baby them things are for. I put her in there, didn't I? I wanna see her things."

"You really are drunk," Carol said with a laugh.

"No," Daryl said. "I'm definitely buzzed, but I ain't drunk. I may be a little light on my inhibitions, but I'm in full control of all my faculties."

"You really want to see—all the baby's stuff?"

"Mmm hmmm," Daryl hummed, a pulling feeling in his stomach told him that Carol really wanted him to want to see all the baby's things. He stepped forward and touched Carol's face. For just a second, she closed her eyes like she was drinking in the affection. "But first—I wanna tell you how fuckin' beautiful you are."

"Now I know you're drunk," Carol said.

Daryl ran his thumb over her lips, and she held his eyes.

"No," he said. "I'm not. I mean that. Always do, even when I don't say it. But you're especially fucking beautiful right this minute, Carol." She puckered her lips gently against his thumb. Daryl smiled at her. "Sometimes…I get scared, just like you do, that things are just gonna change. Not in no good way, neither."

"I know," Carol said. "But—I'm not going anywhere."

"I guess I know that," Daryl said. "Your ass moved here and you didn't want to. Wanted to stay in that little house. Wanted to stay in Michonne's basement. But you come here, all the same, because that's what I wanted."

"I want to be with you," Carol said. "That's all I really want."

"Sometimes—I get jealous," Daryl said. "And I get scared that somebody's gonna take shit away from me. I guess, because I been losin' every damn thing that mattered to me for as long as I can remember. The thought of somebody takin' you away from me…"

"I'm not going anywhere," Carol said.

"I guess I know that, now," Daryl said.

"You don't still think—I'm a whore?"

"I never fuckin' thought that," Daryl said. "But—it was an asshole thing to say."

"I've heard it before," Carol offered, raising her eyebrows.

"Last damn thing I'd ever want is to sound like him."

"I get scared, too, sometimes," Carol said. "You'll change your mind about me. About her. I'll lose you. I'll lose—Henry…her."

"You ain't losin' nothin' and nobody," Daryl said. "She's comin' and she's gonna be fine. And I'm gonna talk to Henry. Ezekiel and me both are going to talk to him. Together."

"Together?" Carol asked, raising her eyebrows. Daryl laughed to himself.

"I guess you can say we reached an understanding," Daryl said.

"One that's going to last after the buzz wears off?" Carol asked with a smirk. Daryl could see in her eyes, though, that the question was more serious than teasing.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Don't worry about that. It's gonna last."

"Can I ask—what the understanding is?" Carol asked.

"Just—realized we got a lot of common ground," Daryl said. "Enough to make the differences not so damn important."

Daryl moved toward her, and she didn't move away. She kissed him when he requested it, and she deepened the kiss when he requested that, too. He held her against him and let the kiss go for as long as she would allow before she needed more breath than she could get around the kiss.

Against his stomach, Daryl could feel their daughter's response to things.

"Shit—she pissed?" Daryl asked, backing off enough to put his hand on Carol's belly.

"I don't think so," Carol said. "I think—I was feeling good, and I think…maybe she feels that, too."

Daryl licked his lips and smiled at her.

"Oxytocin?" He asked.

"What?" Carol asked.

"She vyin' for a big ole shot of oxytocin?" Daryl teased. "Because—I could get her some…if you were interested."

"I thought you wanted the grand tour," Carol said. The mischievous twinkle in her eye told Daryl that she wasn't saying 'no,' but she did want to tease him a bit.

"I do," Daryl said. "But I wouldn't be pissed off it was to start here an' end in our bedroom. I'm sure she's got things in there, too."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Carol teased. "Are you accusing her of being spoiled?"

"Not hardly," Daryl said, laughing quietly. "I'm just sayin'—it's already clear that we live here, but wherever we are? That's her kingdom."

"Her kingdom, Daryl?" Carol asked with a laugh.

Daryl smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe Ezekiel ain't a hundred percent full of shit, and maybe not all of it's bullshit, after all," Daryl said. "I mean—she is kind of a princess already. Even if she is my princess. And—you damn sure is a queen."

"Does that make you a king?" Carol asked.

"Of my castle," Daryl offered. "You gonna show me around or what?"

"This is her nursery," Carol said, waving her arms as if to say "what more do you want, look around."

"What the hell's she got?" Daryl pressed. Carol's cheeks colored again and she smiled.

"A crib," she said, finally moving to show him the things she'd acquired. "And—this is her dresser, and this is like a portable changing table. And—I have most of her things for her diapers in the other room with my sewing machine. I didn't think it mattered if I put it in the guest room, since I don't imagine we'll often have guests besides the children, maybe…I mean, if that's OK with you."

"It's all OK with me," Daryl assured her quickly. This was the first indication that she was going to actually settle into this house. It was, as Michonne had called it, the first signs of nesting. Daryl wanted her comfortable enough to feather the hell out of their proverbial nest, so this was a welcomed start. "Show me what else she's got. I know she's gotta have more'n that."

"Well—these are her clothes. I haven't decided if I like how they're separated and arranged, but…they're in drawers."

"Take 'em out, do it again until you like it," Daryl offered.

"You can't find this interesting," Carol said. But her cheeks were pink and she was practically glowing. Daryl would fold and unfold every single thing in each of those drawers to keep her looking like that just a bit longer.

"I wanna see…" he pressed.

"Well—uh—pacifiers and bibs here. And a few little toys for teething and hand-eye coordination. And all her blankets are here with burp cloths, some soft rags, and a few towels. That's really all I have here right now, but…I can show you…"

Daryl followed her when she simply walked out of the room. She led him to the so-called guest room of the house. Her machine was in there, and a table was wedged in there with a chair for her sewing. Piled on the bed was cloth.

"My things for the quilts are there. And these are the the things for her diapers," Carol said. "It's a lot, but…she'll need enough to get through until I can wash and dry what's dirty."

"You make sure she gets all she needs," Daryl said, offering her the approval she clearly needed. "That can't be all she's got, though."

"One more thing…I hope you won't mind…"

"I'm not gonna mind anything you're doin' for her," Daryl assured Carol. He followed her into their bedroom. Immediately, he saw the new item. It was tucked against the wall. Carol walked over and ran her hand along the inside of it.

"I was going to just leave it in the nursery, but…it'll go on my side of the bed. When she's here. Daryl—it'll be so much easier if I can have her right there. It'll make feeding her so much easier, especially when she's so little and nursing all the time…"

Daryl knew, immediately, there was some anxiety there. There was some moment in her past—a fight with Ed over just such a piece of furniture or, maybe, over simply having a newborn nearby—that was bubbling back up into her memory.

Daryl came to her immediately, and he kissed her to stop her explanation. Then, he touched the mattress of the little crib-like structure. He could smell the fact that the cloth covering was clean.

"It's ready for her," he said.

"You don't mind?"

"I want her here," Daryl said. "Right here. In our room, Carol. Where we can keep an eye on her. She's gonna be little, Carol. And brand-damn-new to the world. And it's gotta be scary. For her. It's gonna be better if she's right here with us so she don't feel so scared. Throwin' her all the way in the other damned room when she ain't used to bein' without the two of us? That'd just be a shitty thing to do to her."

Immediately, Daryl's pulse increased as his eyes took in Carol's expression and his brain registered that he'd done the best thing he could have ever done. He'd hit a proverbial homerun. He silently congratulated himself, in that moment, for damn near winning some kind of husband award.

Carol grabbed him, and he practically tasted blood at how hard she kissed him—but it was the best kiss, and he enjoyed it, going back for more when she broke it. She let him have more when he asked for it, and she looked at him with an unmistakable expression when the kiss did break.

"Daddy…" she breathed out, massaging his upper arm muscles with her fingertips.

"Mmm?" He asked, his brain feeling like it could hardly be expected to produce more words when it was already struggling with the slightly lingering effects of his earlier buzz and, now, with the fact that he was pretty sure that ninety percent of the blood it required to work had just gone south for the time being.

"What about that oxytocin?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled.

"Come on," he said. "I got a feeling we can scrounge a dose up for you, together."