AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Daryl's kisses were desperate. They were hungry. They were more than that, even.
For as much as Carol found herself imagining that, before all of this had come to pass, Daryl might have been shaking women off, left and right, to keep his bachelor status, she was starting to believe that she'd read him wrong entirely.
It was clear that the hungry way in which he kissed was the way he always kissed. He even admitted it. He didn't know how to kiss tenderly. He only knew how to kiss like he was dying of thirst and the only water to be found needed to be sucked from Carol's lips. It was, apparently, the way he'd always kissed and the only way that he knew how to kiss. Carol wasn't complaining—because his kisses were the best kisses that she'd ever had, and they made her brain feel like it shut off completely for just a few moments—but she did recognize, almost immediately, that there was some insecurity surrounding whether or not he was doing it right. The possible explanations for this, of course, were that he'd never kissed very much, and maybe kissing simply wasn't something he liked to do very often, or that he'd never kissed women that had given him much feedback on the kisses. If the women he'd been kissing weren't giving him much feedback, though, Carol assumed it was because they were focusing on not staggering around on their newly-jellied knees.
He wanted feedback, though. He wanted to hear that he kissed well—Carol saw the way his features lit up with even the smallest bit of praise. He wanted words about what he could do better or differently. He wanted something to work toward.
And it had been a dry season for him since the world had turned upside down.
Daryl probably didn't enjoy the kisses the way that Carol did. Carol couldn't deny her attraction to Daryl. She wouldn't deny it to herself and, honestly, she wouldn't deny it to anyone else who asked her about it. She couldn't deny the fact that she was beginning to consider him the greatest example of manhood that she'd ever seen. He was everything that she personally wanted a man to be. He was everything that Ed had lied to her about being. Whereas Ed had lied to her about himself, and had bragged about being something he absolutely wasn't, Daryl didn't brag about anything. If he even spoke about himself, it was matter-of-factly.
Carol had never felt as attracted to a man as she felt to Daryl, and this was especially true now that she'd tasted his kisses and her body had reminded her, with her own somewhat desperate feelings, that she was a woman. Even though Ed had made her want to forget that many times, she was a woman, and she had needs.
Daryl reminded her of her needs—needs that she'd mostly ignored during the past years when Ed had practically murdered her desire. Daryl, however, made her ache with the desire that he would meet her needs and that, in exchange, he would allow her to meet his. She had always liked caring for others, in every sense of the word, and only Ed had ever made her bitter for any expectation of care. She would enjoy meeting Daryl's needs if he would let her. She would do so gladly. He was a man, after all, who seemed genuinely appreciative of every kindness that was shown to him.
The only thing that kept Carol's feet on the ground at all was the memory that they were doing this for a show. It was a performance. They would do this while they settled into the community. They would do this while they found their places among the residents there. They would do this for companionship, and for however long it served them.
The shared kisses were simply an added benefit to the ruse.
And then, one day, Daryl would likely find a woman among the residents of the community that interested him. He would be ready to take what he'd learned from the kisses, even, and use those to woo someone he chose for himself. Carol reminded herself of that whenever something inside of her threatened to bubble over. She reminded herself not to get too far ahead of herself.
That evening, when they went to dinner, they shared a table with Merle and Andrea, and they left an open chair in expectation of T-Dog's arrival at some point during the meal.
In the presence of Merle and Andrea, Carol's suspicions that, perhaps, Daryl didn't know what to do in relationships were strengthened a little. She assumed that he may have been the kind of man who had remained unattached and uncommitted. He could show kindness and temporary devotion without diving into an actual relationship. Such a way of being, of course, would serve him well as he pretended to be Carol's husband for the following days or weeks, but it wouldn't do her well. She feared that she wasn't going to be as good at keeping her feelings distant.
Daryl's possible lack of a committed relationship in the past could also explain Merle's seeming fascination with their false marriage. He watched them very carefully. Carol met his eyes nearly any time she looked in his direction, and most of the time that he spent not looking at her was spent watching Daryl.
Daryl was watching his brother just as carefully as Merle was watching him, but it was for a different reason. Almost immediately, Carol realized that Daryl was drawing information from Merle on what was expected of them as a couple. Andrea held Merle's hand while they waited on their food. Daryl offered his hand over to Carol in a not-so-very-discrete manner. She was happy for the opportunity to simply sit calmly, though, and hold Daryl's hand in hers, so she wasn't complaining.
Merle laughed at something Andrea said and kissed the side of her face, so the next time that a window opened where such a thing might be not entirely inappropriate, Daryl had kissed Carol's cheek.
He was mimicking his brother in an effort to learn what was expected of them and to perform his role well.
The concern that Daryl showed throughout the meal, though, over whether or not Carol felt that she'd gotten enough or needed more, was all his own. And it warmed her chest and her belly in a way that she was starting to associate only with Daryl and his particular brand of attention and affection.
T-Dog joined them just as dessert was arriving to their table, claiming he'd had his meal earlier. Carol didn't hold back her smile when the dessert plate was placed in the middle of the table and they were given small plates for each person seated at the table.
"Chocolate icing?" Carol asked as Daryl passed around the dessert plates.
"And chocolate cake," Daryl said.
She raised her eyebrows at him, her cheeks aching.
"You did this?" She asked.
Daryl's face blushed pink and he shrugged his shoulders.
"You said they was Sophia's favorite," Daryl said. "I just asked 'em if they could do it. I didn't know if they could or not."
Carol swallowed against the lump in her throat.
"That's the…sweetest thing…" she stammered, but she wasn't able to finish. She had to stop speaking because, in addition to the few tears that somehow found their way down her face, she was afraid that her voice might crack and release a cry that was similar to the one from the doctor's office earlier. She didn't want to do that—not at the dinner table—so she simply stopped speaking.
Merle cleared his throat. Carol heard the sound, and his throat-clearing seemed to draw the attention of multiple people at the table. Daryl kissed the side of her face again—this time in such an unexpected way that she closed her eyes. She felt the simple kiss in her chest. She felt the warmth of it spreading downward through her belly and even beyond. It dissolved the lump in her throat and, without meaning to, she hummed out her pleasure over the simple gesture as Daryl's hand closed around hers.
Andrea drew them back to the table, and back to dessert, by selecting one of the cupcakes off the plate.
"To Sophia," Andrea offered.
"To Sophia," Merle echoed, his voice quieter.
Carol echoed the sentiment, this time not feeling as much like she was choking, and selected her own cupcake as Daryl and T-Dog helped themselves. Carol watched, across the table, as Andrea, without requiring any request from Merle and without drawing attention to her actions, carefully peeled the wrapper from Merle's cupcake to leave it ready for him to easily eat as he wanted.
Carol tasted her own cupcake. It wasn't as good as she'd made before, and she considered asking how she might obtain ingredients or permission to cook in the kitchen from time to time, but it was good enough for now.
The taste of it did, in fact, remind her of some of the happy times that she'd spent with Sophia, enjoying treats that she prepared with love for her daughter. And, though the memories tugged at her chest, they did so in a good way. She dared, for even a second, to allow herself to imagine having happy moments with another child.
"I gotta eat at your table more often," T-Dog said. "I was in here earlier and all we got for dessert were some sweet rolls."
"If you look around, these was made by special request," Merle said. "It's likely that not everybody got these."
"I thought you didn't show favoritism?" T-Dog asked.
Merle laughed to himself.
"I think we consider favoritism to be some kinda long term favorin' of somebody 'cause of who they are or whatever. It don't mean that we don't never allow nobody to feel just a little bit special or to have somethin' good that's theirs."
"It's good to honor some special requests an' all," Daryl said.
"Speaking of special requests and…wants or needs or whatever," Carol said. "T—do you think you're up to moving a couple of cribs with Daryl after dinner?"
T-Dog laughed to himself.
"I knew this cupcake was gonna cost me something," he teased.
"There's a cup of coffee in it for you tonight," Daryl said. "Back at the house. Hot shower."
"I'll move the crib," T-Dog said. "Mostly I'm just giving you a hard time."
"Cribs," Carol said. "Andrea's found one that she'd like, too."
"You got a crib picked out?" Merle asked.
"It's too early," Andrea protested. "We shouldn't get it now…it's…that's a long time to just have it sitting there."
"Is it gonna spoil, Sugar?" Merle asked.
Carol swallowed down her laughter. Carol knew that the question wasn't sincere, but the way that Merle asked it made it hard to tell from his tone of voice.
"It's not too early," Carol said. "Andrea will relax much better once she starts feeling that her nursery is in order. Every mother likes to have a nest. And that means she can start building it a little along."
"Then we'll get the crib," Merle said. He might as well have dropped a gavel at the end of the comment for how much declaration of fact was in the statement. It wasn't up for debate.
"How does your friend feel about babies?" Carol asked, speaking directly to Andrea. Andrea raised her eyebrow at her in question and Carol flicked her eyes in T-Dog's direction before returning them to Andrea. "Would she be, in any way, interested in knowing that T-Dog was really dedicated to helping us set up nurseries?"
"Oh!" Andrea said quickly. "You mean Michonne?" Carol nodded. At the mention of the woman's name, T-Dog's interest perked up and he leaned forward into the table. There were dozens of available women there, and T-Dog could have likely picked from them at his leisure, but he seemed to be the kind that was interested in what he couldn't easily have. Andrea shrugged her shoulders. "You know, I honestly don't know. I don't think she's ever mentioned it. She's never really talked about kids or how she felt about them. I mean she congratulated me when I told her I was pregnant, but…it was just congratulations and nothing more."
"Michonne don't really talk much about life," Merle offered. "She talks about ways to improve things. She talks about—the lil' bunches of people that crop up around here and what we gonna do about 'em. She talks about runs, an' problems we got with neighboring communities, an' if she seen anything on watch. She don't sit and chat about what the hell her life was before we met up in Georgia."
"But—I'm sure she'd still appreciate knowing anything about a man who's willing to offer a helping hand to others," Andrea said.
"And it sounds like if you was to get assigned to the right work detail," Daryl said, "then you might have some time to discuss your thoughts on things around here."
Carol laughed to herself when T-Dog leaned around her to look at Daryl.
"So far all I've been asked to do is odd jobs here and there," T-Dog said.
"Yeah—but you might have some pull with someone who could maybe find out what jobs she gets assigned to," Daryl said. He flicked his eyes in the direction of his brother to make sure that T-Dog followed what he was saying. "We keep your secret that you set it up that way. Kinda looks like you just ended up there. Fate."
T-Dog looked at Merle and Merle laughed to himself.
"You owe me," T-Dog said. "After what an asshole you were?"
"I fuckin' owe you?" Merle responded. There was no real malice in his voice, though, nor on his features. He spoke to T-Dog around a bite of his cupcake. "You the one that threw the damned key down the pipe to cost me my hand."
"I dropped it," T-Dog said. "It was an accident. I chained the door to keep the Walkers away from you."
"And you kicked the damn bag of tools over," Merle said. "Whether you meant that or not. It was the only damn way I'da ever got a saw. Cost me my hand, but kept me my life."
"So, you owe me," T-Dog said. "Because look at the life you've got now. Maybe you'd have never had that life if you'd kept your hand and hadn't had to start over. I did your ass a favor, whether you want to admit it or not."
"Move the crib," Merle said after he'd worked his way, slowly and just to torture T-Dog a bit, through another bite of his cupcake. "And then I'll see what I can do about movin' duty posts."