AN: Here we go, another chapter here.

Checking in with Daryl and Carol.

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

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Daryl hid in the bedroom and half-listened through the door to the muffled conversation between Carol and the woman. The woman knew he was there. She had to. They were locked in the house until someone came to let them out for meals. Short of breaking a window, there was no escape. But he didn't want to get dragged into things and the television had warned them that today didn't look like the day that they were going to get the awaited job assignments. And if it was? Carol could come and "wake him."

When Daryl heard the front door close, he opened the bedroom door a crack.

"Gone?" He asked.

"Gone," Carol responded.

Daryl found his underwear, pulled them on, and walked out of the bedroom.

"That weren't no delivery," Daryl said. "Took too long."

"It was a delivery, but a different kind of delivery. We didn't order this," Carol responded.

"Another welcome basket?" Daryl asked. Carol was sitting at the table looking through a bag that he assumed the woman had brought by. He knew she'd tell him if there was anything in there that would interest him, so he went into the kitchen and checked the contents of their fridge. Boredom, perhaps, had led them to order a great deal of random things with the little delivery service that the community offered. So far they'd gotten almost everything they asked for. Their list was always returned, items checked off, and there was always a short "explanation" beside something if they couldn't have it. Sorry, it was out of stock. Something of the like.

Except condoms. No matter how many times they put that on the list it just kept getting returned to them with the item scratched out. Of course, now they were really doing it for the hell of it. Boredom had also led them to christen nearly every surface in their little house that they thought would hold them.

It beat the hell out of a quickie in a storage closet, that was sure.

Daryl selected a beer from the refrigerator and stopped by the drawer to pry the top off with a bottle opener. He flicked the top into the trash can—trash was picked up once daily as well, usually in the morning at breakfast call—and he drank a long swallow out of the beer before he came back into the living room to see what it was that Carol had in the bag.

"What is it?" Daryl asked, leaning over her.

"Well it's a type of welcome basket," Carol said. She sighed. "Ovulation tests? Pregnancy tests? Short order babies, anyone?" Daryl hummed. It didn't mean anything to him. The kid, of course, would mean something him if there was supposed to be one, but all the tests didn't really mean anything to him.

"They must be for you," Daryl said. "I never was any good at taking tests."

He laughed and stepped back quickly when Carol playfully lunged at him for the joke. She stood up and sighed again as she moved the bag farther away from her on the table like such a short distance was really going change anything.

"There's some pills in there for you, too," Carol said. "Just in case you're having a little trouble."

Daryl sucked his teeth. The beer that they were brewing now had an almost floral taste to it. It wasn't exactly horrible, but it wasn't exactly as good as he remembered beer being either. All in all, like everything else in their lives, it was an acquired taste.

"What kinda pills?" Daryl asked.

Carol took his beer away and he let her have it. She didn't really like it, but she seemed fond of drinking the last few swallows out of every bottle he'd opened thus far.

"You know," Carol said. "What'd they call them? Prozac...no...that was depression. The pills. The erection pills? For when you can't get it up?"

"Viagra?" Daryl asked, raising his eyebrows at her. She smirked and nodded as she polished off what was left of the beer. She put the bottle on the table beside the bag. It would stay there until one of them made the journey back to the kitchen.

"That's it," she said. "They brought you Viagra. In case you need it."

She started toward the bathroom and Daryl followed after her.

"You tell her we didn't need it?" He asked.

"No," Carol said. "I just accepted all of it."

"You think I need it?" Daryl asked.

Carol laughed, but she tried to muffle it. She reached the bathroom and turned around to look at him.

"You're going to watch me pee?" She asked him.

"Ain't you used to it by now?" Daryl asked. He really had no intention of watching her use the bathroom, though. He backed up as soon as he'd said it and, as a show, reached to pull the door closed as he did. He did stand outside the door, though. It wasn't like they really had a great need for privacy, and it wasn't like either of them were really sitting on any grand secrets right now. They'd seen just about everything the other had to show.

If they were doing this? They might as well make the best of it. There could be worse things that they were made to do than stay in a house with someone they actually liked and have sex to pass the time between meals that were prepared for them.

And, maybe, there was something else behind it too.

Things in this world could go to shit in a minute. They'd both learned that. No matter what was going on, there was always a chance that it could get worse. Daryl's life sucked pretty damn bad before. But he got used to it and he learned to make the most of what he had. Then the Dead decided to get up and start walking around—tearing people apart every day—and it got bad again. But he got used to it. He learned to make the best of it. Then the government decided to show up and throw him for another loop. They killed his brother and dragged his ass to prison where he got the shit beat out of him for simply looking different than someone wanted him to look. He thought it was as bad as it could get. But then? He got used to it.

This? This was the life of kings in Daryl's opinion. If he had the right to walk his ass out of the front door any time he pleased, then he couldn't really imagine it getting any better. And he was in a hurry—and maybe Carol was to—to get used to this as quickly as possible. There was no telling when it all might turn again and go to shit, so they might as well suck every last drop of "good" out of it before it did.

And that's what they were doing.

Carol opened the door again when she was done. She backed up a little, surprised to see Daryl standing there, and then she smiled at him.

"Miss me that much?" She teased.

"Couldn't hardly stand myself," Daryl responded. "Why didn't you tell her that I don't need them pills?"

Carol laughed.

"Maybe just to see that expression on your face," Carol said. "At the rate we're going? I don't know what good the ovulation tests are going to do me either. I mean—if we don't miss a day we'll certainly hit at least one when I'm ovulating. If I even ovulate." She chewed her lip. "I guess I could take them, though. At least I'd know if I ovulate. And—if I'm ovulating and I don't get pregnant? Maybe we'd have an answer as to whether or not anything is going to happen or if—I'm going to get thrown out of this or something for not having a kid."

Daryl's stomach twisted.

They'd told them it wasn't a requirement. They'd said that if it didn't happen, it didn't matter. But the emphasis was on it happening. It was clear that the expectation was there. Carol was worried, and Daryl was too even if he wouldn't say it to her, that if this didn't work? If there was no kid? The two of them were going right back to where they'd come from.

Or, and Daryl wasn't entirely comfortable yet with the fact that his gut seemed to think of this as the worst possible scenario, they would send Carol back to Region Thirty Three and Daryl would simply be stuck there without her—auctioned off to stud or something of the like.

To cover his own discomfort at the moment, Daryl reached and caught Carol. She came willingly into his arms. He'd never had a woman that came so willingly to him—and he'd never had one that seemed to fit, like she did, so perfectly against him. He dipped his head and she met him for a kiss. She drew it out, long and slow and lazy, until Daryl finally pulled away from her because he was almost choked by the feeling that it brought out in him. He licked his lips and she smirked. She looked so pleased by the fact that she could do that to him.

She raised an eyebrow at him and moved her body against his. She shook her head gently.

"I don't think you need the pills," she said.

Daryl swallowed. He'd be amused, but at the moment there were too many things competing for his brain's attention.

"And I don't think you need the damned tests," Daryl said. "We're doin' this? We're doing it our way. Tell 'em they can't rush us. We're playing by their rules. We're doing what they want. We do it without their stupid ass tests and pills."

A hint of a sincere smile played at Carol's lips.

"You want to?" She asked. "I mean—you want to, but...they'll be here soon to go to lunch."

"And they'll wait too," Daryl said, pulling her with him toward their bedroom. "This is official government business."

Carol came willingly enough to the bed and she peeled back the sheets that were still tangled from the after-breakfast, after-sex nap they'd taken. She pointed to the bed and Daryl didn't have to ask what was on her mind. One thing that happened when they used sex for recreation was that they started to figure each other out pretty quickly.

And Daryl was figuring her out.

She was a little shy about her body at first. She seemed to think that he was going to pick it apart—that he was going to criticize everything about it. When they were together the first time, the very first time, he hadn't been able to see her that clearly. The first time here, she'd gone into a speech that took twenty minutes and robbed him of his erection simply because she told him everything that he should think was wrong with her. And then, to add insult to injury, she'd firmly believed that the need to coax his dick back to life had something to do with her body and not at all with the images she was putting in his head while she described a body to him—a body that was most definitely not hers.

So Daryl had been sure to pay special attention to everything that she'd pointed out to him that he'd hate—and he'd done his best to show her that he didn't hate any of it.

He could see himself in the shower, and in the bathroom mirror, and he knew that there was a whole lot of story written across his skin too. But it didn't bother Carol. And her story didn't bother him, either.

Now that she was feeling a little more confident, maybe? She didn't stop him from looking. She didn't tell him what he was supposed to see. There was a little something different there when she undressed—at times it almost seemed like she might break into a dance of some sort as she shimmied out of the pajamas that were her uniform in between going out for meals.

Daryl liked that confidence, too, because if she'd done things to his body before that made his mind shut everything else out, she certainly closed him down with the added dose of confidence.

Daryl shucked off his underwear again and crawled onto the bed, following her gesture. He piled the pillows up and reclined on them before he smirked at her and waved his hand at her. She had gestures for him, he had them for her. She cocked her eyebrow at him, tipped her head to the side, and then she came out of the pajamas again. She crawled over the mattress toward him and he reached a hand out that she took before she leaned in and kissed him again.

"They'll be here any minute," she said, her voice low.

"Then we better make it count," he said, just before he returned his lips to hers.

She reached her hand down to touch herself—to speed up the process, maybe—and Daryl responded by repositioning himself so that he could take over for her. He bumped her hand out of the way and she readjusted her body to give him better access, her other hand never leaving his. She curled her fingers tightly around his hand and closed her eyes. He watched her and each expression of something that almost looked like pain let him know that he was doing it right—he was doing what she wanted.

She was easy to read, and Daryl was enjoying learning to read her. He'd never really been one for reading too many books in the last world, but he had a lot of time to spend here—and he was enjoying this story.

"Come on," he said, when he felt like she was ready. He was surprised at his own voice and the way it croaked out of his throat.

Carol nodded at him, the magic broken for a moment when he moved his hand away, and she reached her other hand out to catch his still damp fingers. He held both her hands while she got into position, her body over his, and then she took one of them back to take control of guiding him into her.

It was Daryl's turn to close his eyes.

She must have been as good at figuring him out as he was at reading her. She moved her body just the way he wanted her to. She moved her body, even, in ways that he didn't even know he wanted her to. He bit his lip against the sensation of wanting to flip her over and take control himself. He denied himself that. Instead he simply worked his hips as much as their limited space would allow to meet her with every movement.

He only opened his eyes again right before he came. He felt the tension building and he opened them to see where she was at. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was partially open. Her features showed that expression of almost-pain before. Daryl gave her a quick warning that she needed to catch up with him, if she could, and she dropped her hand again to finish the job that they'd started earlier.

Daryl reached his peak first, but she came right after him—before he'd failed her entirely—and both of them stayed in their positions until his body took control and separated them. Carol leaned forward, pressing her body against his, and Daryl wrapped his arms around her and held her there while they both worked through the lingering sensations.

He knew it wouldn't last long—the guards would be knocking at their door and barking about food—but he closed his eyes to enjoy the few moments that they did have.

"Well," he said, sucking in a breath and rubbing his fingers over Carol's back, "if it don't happen—they can't say it was lack of effort on our part."

Carol laughed and rolled off of him.

"Get up," she said. "Get dressed. I'm starving."

She got up with her own command and started to get dressed in the clothes that she'd discarded shortly after breakfast. Daryl watched her and chuckled to himself.

"Hey. You're welcome," he said.

"Yeah. You too," Carol responded, a smile spreading across her face as she tossed Daryl's clothes at the bed.