AN: This is a one shot based on the prompts from an upcoming BINGO fic-writing competition for Amwaaker's Facebook group. Those participating in the challenge will be putting out their stories on November 30. (No worries, I'm not participating for judging.) There's plenty of time to play, though. If you're interested, you should contact Amwaaker for details.

I chose Movie Night, Quickie, 69, Glass Half Full, and Silver Linings.

I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

I hope that you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

111

"Just like bein' teenagers," Daryl said.

He smiled across the console at his wife, Carol, as she sat in the passenger seat. The light from the oversized projector flickered across her face. It was the only illumination in the field around them, especially since they'd parked far enough away from the food trucks offering concessions that they weren't plagued by light from the trucks or the temporary lighting put up to keep people from falling down and getting hurt on their way to get popcorn, drinks, and other snacks.

The drive-in movie "theater" in the field outside of town was new, and they didn't want people suing them for things, so they were trying to think of everything—including having everyone sign a waiver as they pulled in to watch the movie.

The movies would be shown every Friday for as long as there was an interest. Nearly everything involved was donated by some individual or business in town. Everyone who donated would be paid for their expenses—energy, and food, and such—but the profits would go toward good causes. The little town could use some work. The roads needed extra repair, public buildings needed some updating, and some small businesses owned by long-standing members of the town could stand some love and care. The town council had come up with the idea of the movies, along with a few festivals, to help out with that kind of thing.

The population of Woodrow, Georgia would take care of its own—at least that was the idea.

Daryl liked the idea of the drive-in movies just because they reminded him of his childhood. Back when he'd been growing up, there had been a similar drive-in in the small town where he and his brother had started their sorry-ass little lives. People paid a little more to drive cars in and see a movie, but Merle had known a spot where they wouldn't get noticed, and they could still see and somewhat hear decently for free. Daryl had sat, many nights, and watched movies with his brother—half making up the words to the films that he wouldn't see in earnest until many years later.

Even inhaling the cool fall air as he'd waited on Carol to finish going over everything with his brother and sister-in-law, who were watching the kids for Daryl and Carol to have a movie-night date night, had taken Daryl back to some of those nights—some of the best ones he could recall out of a childhood that, arguably, hadn't been much to write home about.

It was better to hold onto the good, really, as much as possible.

Daryl had a lot of good in his life now. He had so much good that he hardly knew what the hell to do with himself.

Daryl had a good job working as a body man at a shop that did steady work. He had a good after-hours job, in his personal shop, fixing up cars he picked out of junk yards and old barns—a real trash to treasure endeavor—and selling them for a decent ass profit.

He had a wife that he loved to death and who understood him, and who understood his past with a father that had treated his whole damn family like punching bags, a mother who had died early thanks to the addiction that she'd hoped would help her survive her lot in life, and a brother who had battled all those same demons that Daryl worked so hard to stomp down every day. His wife, too, made him feel like the greatest man in the world, having, herself, known what it was like to have one of those husbands, before Daryl, who didn't know how to love what he was supposed to hold most precious.

Together, Daryl and Carol had a nice little house—brick, with good bones, that Carol kept always clean and full of love—and they currently had three children…two of which shared Daryl's blood and one who had his heart, even if she lacked his blood, who had been born from Carol's failed marriage and was unwanted by a man who had never known how to love her and who had certainly never deserved her.

Carol was—and always would be—Daryl's favorite woman to date, even if she'd been the only one he'd ever dated.

Carol smiled back at him.

"I'd rather be us, now, than teenagers," Carol said with a contented sigh.

"Me too," Daryl agreed. "Really. I was a fuckin' idiot as a teenager, and I prob'ly woulda fucked things up with you."

Carol laughed.

"I was dating Ed," she said. "So—that's really saying enough, isn't it?"

Daryl laughed in response.

"I guess it says enough," he said.

"Of course, if I'd been dating you…I could've missed all of that with Ed entirely. We could've gone straight to this. Straight to the good part."

Daryl hummed.

"But if you'da skipped all that with Ed, then we'da missed out on Sophia," Daryl said. "And I wouldn't trade her for the world."

"Me either," Carol said. "Not even to miss all of Ed."

"So—you see? Every cloud's got a silver linin', don't it?" Daryl said. "All the shit that sucked for both of us…if it weren't for that, we wouldn't be here, tonight, watchin' this movie together…enjoyin' a little date night while the kids are safe at home with Uncle Merle and Aunt Andrea."

Carol laughed quietly.

"I'm glad Aunt Andrea is there," she teased. "If it were just Uncle Merle, I don't know if I could relax."

"You can relax," Daryl assured her. He moved his hand over to squeeze her thigh. She wiggled a little, getting more comfortable in the bucket seat. Daryl massaged her thigh, slowly moving his hand upward. He watched her face for any sign of disapproval. If it was there, though, it wasn't evident. In fact, he could have sworn that, when she shifted again, she opened her legs a bit more to give him a little easier passage up her thigh.

Finally, he brushed his finger against the crotch of her pants a few times. He knew her body well enough, by now, to know exactly where the hint of pressure and friction would be most appreciated.

The light from the large screen seemed to catch her eyes perfectly, and they practically glowed as she looked at him in the darkness. She hummed at him, low in her throat.

"You keep pushing buttons," she said, "and you're liable to turn something on that won't just turn itself off."

Daryl laughed quietly.

"Maybe I'm counting on it," Daryl said. "How many times we seen 'Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?'"

"I don't know—a few times," Carol said.

"Enough we ain't missin' too much if we don't see the whole thing," Daryl said.

Carol smiled—no, she smirked. Daryl smiled in response.

"What are you suggesting, Daryl?" Carol asked.

"You in the mood for a quickie?" Daryl asked.

She pursed her lips at him, clearly thinking about it, and he gave her time to consider her feelings on the matter—whether she wanted it or not, he was enjoying the contemplation of it. Even if she said no, he would hold onto the enjoyment of this moment when he remembered the date.

"The back seat isn't too conducive to it," Carol offered.

It wasn't a lie.

One of Daryl's latest fixer-uppers was a fully restored 1969 Mach 1. He was looking to sell the car, as he always did when he had fixed up and played with a car for a bit, and he'd decided that it was a great idea to drive it around and give it the chance to show off a bit. After all, that was how he always stirred up interest in whatever toy he was trying to move. The movie night's theme was "Summer of '69," and the movie on offer had come out in that very year. It had seemed like a great idea to drive the car to the drive-in movie. Coming in, several people had come up and commented on the car, and Daryl had exchanged numbers with a few possible would-be buyers. Financially, it might be a great idea to have brought the Mustang.

It was a great car for getting looks, and it was a great car for speed, but it might not be the best for a quickie.

"Forget the back seat," Daryl said. "Front seat lovin' is just as good as back seat lovin'."

"You want me to just forget the console, too, Daryl?" Carol asked with a snort.

Daryl considered it.

"You want this or you don't?" He asked. "Just makin' sure before we put too much thought into it."

"I want it," Carol said. "But—I don't know how you intend to work it out."

"Where there's a will, Sweetheart, there's a way," Daryl said with a laugh.

"You're a real glass half-full kind of guy, aren't you?" She teased.

"When it comes to makin' love to my wife, I'm always an optimist," Daryl assured her. "What we gonna do is this…"

"I'm all ears," Carol said, laughing and turning her body toward him to show that she was truly interested in whatever solution he might find. He reached his hand back over and found the waistband of her jeans. He worked his fingers under it.

"First thing I'ma do is…keep on pushin' buttons," Daryl said. "And speakin' of buttons—you wanna help me with that one?"

Carol shifted. She unbuttoned her pants and, understanding his intention, unzipped them, too.

"Roll 'em on down," he said. She obliged him, and he took his time to work her with his fingers. Whether or not any other proposed part of this little endeavor was a success, he would count it as a success. As he worked her, the sounds that she made were worth any effort he put into the job at hand. When she tipped her head back and bit her lip, he thought he might just have to tell her that there wasn't any use in worrying about including him at all—he'd come just from knowing he could give her as much pleasure as she seemed to get from a careful and attentive working over with his hand and fingers. "You doin' alright, Beautiful?" Daryl asked, already knowing the answer to his question.

"Mmmmm…you're going to have to clean your seats," she said.

"Never been a problem for me," Daryl said with a laugh. Admittedly, though he wouldn't have told it around town, there weren't too many cars he'd restored that he and Carol hadn't christened, at least once, during some part of their restoration. "You feelin' pretty good to me—you wanna try a bit more?"

He didn't stop working her. One of her hands had found his thigh, and her fingers were digging into him as further proof that he was hitting everything she wanted him to hit. If she wanted more, he'd give her more. If she wanted to just stay like this and see how many times he could get her to come with his fingers—well, he'd spent evenings doing worse things in his life.

"What do you have in mind?" She breathed out.

"I'ma lift up—push these pants on down. Then, you comin' over. Sit right on down with me."

"It's going to be tight," Carol said.

Daryl knew that Carol was referring to the fit of both of them in the driver's seat—particularly with the relatively low roof of the car. Still, he couldn't help but smirk at the statement. He saw her expression in response to it, and that only made him more amused.

"I'm countin' on it," he teased. "Always has been—but we make it work alright."

"Asshole," Carol said, laughing quietly.

"Come on," Daryl urged. "I plan on bangin' somethin'—but it ain't your head, Carol."

"Smart ass," Carol mumbled. Still, she did make a move to somewhat rise up. Daryl waved her back until he managed to get his pants down and move the driver's seat as far back as it would go. He stroked himself, making sure that he was as hard as he could be—not that it ever took too much to achieve that in the presence of his wife. He offered a hand to her and worked with her to help her move over the division between them. As she lowered herself down, he helped her by guiding himself into her as she moved, accepting him until he was fully seated inside her, and she was fully seated on his lap.

"Holy shit," he murmured, leaning his head against her back.

"You OK?" She asked.

"It don't never get old, Carol," Daryl said. "Bein' with you—it don't never get old."

Carol laughed.

"We have three children together, Daryl," she teased.

"And? It still feels like heaven," he said. "Still gonna feel like heaven after the next three. You mark my words."

Daryl punctuated what he had to say by finally giving into the urge to move that followed the euphoria of feeling Carol wrapped around him. There wasn't much room to move, especially if he fully intended not to bang her head against the roof of the car, as promised, but there was enough. She slipped her hand down, pleasuring herself where he'd left off, happy to help him out while he handled other parts of their attempt at a successful drive-in-movie quickie.

"What if we get caught?" Carol breathed out.

"Bad damn timin' to worry about that now," Daryl offered.

"The windows are fogged," Carol said.

"Because you hot as hell," Daryl said.

"I'm serious, Daryl."

"Me too," Daryl said.

"What if they catch us?" Carol asked.

"They prob'ly gonna ask us to leave," Daryl said. "But I'ma tell 'em I don't go until we both come."

"You will not!" Carol said, laughing. Daryl started laughing, too, because he knew that she was right. The truth of the matter was that his brother, Merle, might very well say some shit like that to a security guard. Merle would just about say anything to anyone—a fact that had led to a great deal of embarrassment for Daryl, Merle's wife, Andrea, Carol, and anyone else who ever spent a significant amount of time in Merle's presence.

Daryl, however, was very much unlike his brother. He was far more shy, more easily embarrassed, and he would never say such things in any kind of even semi-public situation. Carol made him feel absolutely comfortable with himself and his thoughts, though, so he could and would frequently tease her and say things that he'd be horrified for anyone else to hear.

"You right," he said. "So—stop talkin' so we don't get caught. I gotta concentrate, and I know you do, too, if we gonna get you to the big finish."

"Don't worry about me," Carol said. "You come."

"We could argue about this shit all day long," Daryl said. "You're comin' one damn way or another, Carol."

She laughed.

"Is that a—an orgasm threat, Daryl?"

"You pissed?"

"It's kind of sexy," she admitted.

"Then focus on that shit an' come," Daryl said.

Whether or not she focused on what he'd said, she focused on something long enough to be quiet for a bit, all except for some soft sounds of approval for Daryl's movements and her own contributions to her pleasure. Daryl focused on those sounds and the sensations that he was feeling, and he gave her just a quick word of warning before he came, hard, driving his hips harder into her than he meant to as he searched out the last bit of what he needed. His warning, at least, had given her enough time to pad her head with her hand.

"You ain't come," he said. "Lean back on me."

"What?" She panted.

"Lean back on me," Daryl said, shifting and pulling her body against him. As he did, he slid his hand down between her legs. Finding the spot he knew would work in his favor, he rubbed it the way that he knew she liked. She leaned back harder against him, pressing into him. He put his mouth next to her ear. "That's right," he said. "That's good—you feel good, don't you? Let me make you feel real good."

"Harder," Carol breathed. He obliged, pressing a little harder as per her request. He couldn't figure how some of what she liked felt good, but he wasn't going to argue with her about what the hell she wanted when it came to her own pussy.

"I got you," he said. "You get whatever you want, Carol. You always get whatever you want…I'ma give it to you. All you want. Don't close your legs on me…open 'em up an' take whatever the hell you want, Sweetheart."

Daryl held her, satisfied, as she came. Her body jerked, grinding into him some as she rode out her orgasm. He didn't stop touching her the way she'd wanted until he was sure that she'd gotten what she was going to get out of it.

As she panted, still leaning against him, he turned her face and kissed her cheek and the corner of her mouth.

"I love you," Daryl offered.

"I love you," she said back.

"I think—if you move back soon, we ain't at risk of getting caught," Daryl teased.

Carol laughed quietly. She took the hint, though, and raised up. Her legs seemed a bit shaky, but Daryl didn't point that out as he helped her transition back to her seat. She pulled her pants back up, and he could tell that she was sensitive because, as she did so, her body seemed to jerk involuntarily at least once.

Daryl readjusted his own pants and put the seat back in place for when he needed to drive the car.

"Weren't the worst quickie in the world," Daryl said.

"It was good," Carol said. "As far as quickie's go."

"You know—it's getting on pretty late. By the time we get home, Merle and Andrea oughta have the kids down for the night. We could—continue our date night there, if you ain't too tired when the movie's done."

"What'd you have in mind?" Carol asked, smiling at him across the seat.

Daryl hummed and half-shrugged.

"Theme of the night is 'Summer of '69,' right? Seems a shame to break with the theme and all…"

"You mean you want to…do that?" Carol asked.

"We ain't never tried it," Daryl said. "I mean—if you're down to try it."

Carol smiled at him.

"The kids are probably already asleep," Carol said. "And—we've seen this movie a thousand times, Daryl. Do we really have to stay until the end?"

Daryl laughed and cranked the car. He reached up and wiped just enough of a clear spot on the windshield that he could see out to drive until the fog cleared on its own. He rolled the window down and Carol followed suit on her side. As they rolled out of field slowly toward the exit, Daryl saw them drawing quite a few looks—probably because of the loud rumble of the engine and the disturbance they caused to those that were actually trying to watch the movie.

Daryl didn't care at all.

"You ain't gotta ask me more'n once, Woman," Daryl said. "Let's get the hell outta here."