AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol was almost breathless when the kiss finally broke. She hadn't wanted to pull away from Daryl. She hadn't wanted to risk breaking the magic of the moment just to find out that she'd somehow dreamed the whole thing.
When the kiss broke, Daryl's hands had migrated down her body and were holding her tightly around the hips—tightly enough that the places where his fingers dug into her skin felt almost painful, but she appreciated the fact that it reminded her that this was real. This was absolutely real. She sucked clean air into her lungs—the afternoon suddenly feeling so much more pleasant and crisp than it had before—and she dared to look at Daryl's face. He stared at her like he imagined that she might somehow vanish if he were to move his hands.
Carol smiled at the slightly concerned expression on his face.
"Does that mean you…care about me, too?" Carol asked.
Daryl laughed to himself. It was a breathy laugh and Carol wondered if he'd been holding his breath.
"Yes or no answers?" He asked. Carol nodded. "Yeah."
"You care about me like—what we've been pretending?" Carol asked.
"Since—long as I've known you," Daryl said. "Shit—that weren't yes or no."
Carol smiled at him.
"I don't care," she said.
"I wanted to break Ed's fuckin' neck," Daryl said. His words came out hard and fast like water coming out of a hose that had been cricked for a long time before someone loosened the obstruction. "I wanted to find Sophia. Give her back to you."
"You threatened Rick with a knife," Carol said. She laughed to herself. She didn't think it was funny exactly, but she felt overwhelmed with the reality of the moment. She felt overwhelmed with the idea that—in hindsight—Daryl had always cared. All the little things that she'd told herself were imagined were, perhaps, not quite as imagined as she had thought. He'd always cared for her far more than she would have ever dared to imagine.
"I threatened Rick with a knife," Daryl said, laughing to himself. "I meant it, too."
"I—I've cared about you since…I don't know when," Carol said. "Since…Sophia…you were so…noble…and I just..."
Daryl had let his hands drop from Carol's side, but he brought them up again and touched her once more. This time he brushed his hands down her shoulders and squeezed her arms. Then he brought his hands up to touch her face again like he had before he'd begun the kiss. Then he let them trail down her back like they had during the kiss.
Carol smiled to herself and closed her eyes.
"Daryl?"
"Hmmm?"
"Are you—serious?" She asked, feeling like she needed to hear it once more. She needed to be sure. Her insecurity throbbed in her brain and told her that she was, somehow, imagining everything. She'd heard him entirely wrong. Maybe, even, this was some kind of trick. "You…really care about me. You really mean that?"
"Yeah," Daryl said. "I really mean it."
Daryl continued to touch her, and Carol's pulse picked up a half a beat more. He'd confirmed it—and if she listened carefully, with more than her ears, his every touch confirmed it again. He was simply seeking places and reasons to touch her. He was seeking connection with her. His touches—although slightly erratic and unpredictable—were tender and appreciative. She would have gladly stood in the woods and let Daryl run his hands up and down her arms for hours if that made him happy. She never would have imagined that such a simple touch would make her feel so greatly appreciated.
She couldn't recall the last time she'd been touched so tenderly.
"I'ma kiss you again," Daryl warned.
Carol smiled. She didn't open her eyes. She didn't want to open them.
"You don't have to warn me every time," Carol said. "You just—have my permission."
"Whenever I want?" Daryl asked.
Carol hummed at him. There was innocence behind the question that moved her. There was awe behind it, as well, that moved her in an entirely different manner.
"Whenever you want," Carol said. "The more—the better, though, if I'm allowed to make demands."
Daryl laughed quietly.
"You can make any demands you want," he said.
When Daryl brought his lips to hers, Carol moved toward him. She found his arms easily because his hands had settled once more on her hips. She squeezed his arms in her hands and met his kiss as enthusiastically as she was able.
Like a Jack-in-the-Box with a faulty lid, Carol's insecurity surged up within her breast again. She did her best to push it back down. Still, she thought she might cry over the storm created inside of her as her insecurity collided with Daryl's reassurances that were still practically ringing in the air around her. No matter how much she struggled to remove all the negative feelings from her mind, she still felt some lingering disbelief over the fact that Daryl was actually kissing her because he wanted to kiss her. He had admitted he cared for her and, more than that, he was making her feel like he was sincere. She believed him, and yet she almost found it impossible to believe him.
Part of her mind reminded her that she should tell him all the reasons he was wrong to care—all the reasons he was wrong to even want to kiss her. The other part of her mind, however, urged her not to speak and, instead, to simply enjoy this moment that felt, to her, like something entirely out of the pages of a fairy tale.
When Daryl decided he'd had enough of her lips again, he broke the kiss. For a split second, Carol's stomach rose and dropped as she feared that he would suddenly come to his senses. The spell would surely be broken this time and he would run, as fast as he could, away from her and away from what he'd done.
He didn't run. Instead, when she opened her eyes to him, he smiled. It was a sincere smile, even though it was the crooked smile that Daryl had—a smile which turned up the corners of his lips on one side.
"Does this mean—you ain't gonna move outta the house?" Daryl asked.
Carol smiled.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said. "Besides—I already set up the nursery."
Daryl raised his eyebrows at her.
"You got a point. Then, does this mean you ain't gonna make me move?" He asked.
Carol heard the slight hint of teasing in his voice.
"I would be mad if you did," Carol said.
Suddenly, Daryl looked like he'd been splashed in the face with ice water. The smile left his features. It was replaced with a slight expression of panic or worry.
"I've never done anything like this before," Daryl said. He shook his head. The teasing was gone from his voice. He was being entirely sincere. "I don't know how to be married or—even serious about nobody. I got no idea how to…how to do any of it. I really ain't no kinda husband."
"You were doing pretty well before," Carol offered softly. Something about sensing Daryl's insecurity made her feel a little stronger and a little steadier. She needed to comfort him. Her insecurity suddenly didn't seem quite as important. "When you were just pretending."
"That's the thing," Daryl said. "I was pretendin' we were together, but the rest? I weren't pretending."
"Then—maybe we just keep doing what we were doing?" Carol asked. "Maybe—it doesn't have to change that much. Maybe it just stays the same— like what we were doing."
"Does this mean we're—what are we?" Daryl asked, furrowing his brow.
"I think we can be whatever we want to be," Carol said. She looked around. They were in the woods outside of the community. The world that they'd known before had practically ceased to exist. They were, for all intents and purposes, in a world that defied definition. "Nothing is really what it used to be. What do you want us to be, Daryl?"
"What do you want us to be?" Daryl asked. "I don't think I'm alone in this, am I? Shouldn't you have some kinda say?"
Carol didn't want to put words in his mouth and, at the moment, she wondered if trying to find words was simply too much for him. He seemed a little overwhelmed. If it was words that made Daryl feel overwhelmed, they could do without words. She understood how he felt. She, too, felt overwhelmed. It was impossible for her to speak for him, but she still felt the dull fog of disbelief over hearing that he felt for her the way that she felt for him—that he would admit he'd had these feelings for quite some time.
If he was going through something similar, and the idea of putting labels on feelings and relationships was overwhelming, they didn't need labels.
Carol didn't need words—not when she had feelings and actions.
"We don't have to decide right now," Carol said, offering Daryl some reassurance through the touch of squeezing his arms with her fingers and massaging his muscles. "What we call ourselves—it doesn't really matter. We don't even have to decide today. We can decide later. We can just be…us. We can just—keep being what we were. Keep doing what we were doing. We can take our time deciding what we are and what we're going to call it."
"Keep pretending?" Daryl asked.
Carol smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
"Except—we won't be pretending," Carol said. "Not entirely. "The name may be pretend—until we know what we want—but our feelings don't have to be. Not anymore. Besides—we can't really tell your brother that we've been lying to him since we got here. So, just the same as before, our circumstances will still be our little secret, but…at least, now, we'll both know our feelings."
Daryl chewed on that a moment and then nodded his head. He seemed to relax a little. The visible stress in his features faded. Carol felt herself relaxing with him. In the moment, with so much coming down on both of them at once, putting a name to things was too much. Continuing on as they were, though, without trying to find a label for everything was easy.
It was giving something a name, sometimes, that made it much more complicated than it had to be.
And there was time for that once both of them had overcome the dizzying reality of the moment.
"We ought to tell T," Daryl said.
"What do we tell him?" Carol asked.
Daryl shrugged his shoulders.
"You're right," Daryl said. "I guess—he don't need to know more'n he knows right now. It's not like it changes nothin' for him. We'll just keep it between us for now."
"Is that OK with you?" Carol asked. "We can tell anyone you want to. I just thought it might complicate things…"
Daryl smiled at her, the side of his mouth curling upward again. There was something a little devilish in his smile and Carol was happy to see it.
"Tell 'em or don't tell 'em," he said. "The only thing I wanna know is—either one of us movin' outta the house?"
Carol shook her head.
"I don't think so," she said.
"Either one of us movin' outta the room?" Daryl asked.
Carol laughed to herself.
"Not if you don't want to," she said.
"Either one of us movin' outta—the bed?" Daryl asked.
"I hope not," Carol admitted.
"OK," Daryl said.
"Any more questions?" Carol asked, laughing to herself.
"Plenty," Daryl said. "But they'll keep for now. If none of that changes, though, then I don't care if we tell or we don't."
"It can just be our little secret for now," Carol offered. "But—I do have a question for you…"
Daryl looked suddenly a little worried and it amused Carol more than it should. She'd never been able to worry a man with just the acknowledgement that she wanted to ask him something. She'd never been with a man who cared that much about her approval or disapproval.
She slipped her hands into Daryl's and he wrapped his fingers around hers.
"I was so…well…I was so…preoccupied, that I could hardly eat any breakfast," Carol said.
"I know it," Daryl said.
"So—did you want to eat lunch with me?" Carol asked.
Daryl's concern was immediately alleviated and he smiled. This time, his smile seemed to take over most of his face.
"And after that, we're comin' back out here for target practice," Daryl said. "No damn wonder you ain't hit nothin'—can't nobody aim for shit when they're starvin' to death."