AN: I'm on a fall-themed kick these days, and I thought I'd just do a little something short and sweet for the Cyreese readers out there. This is just for fun.
I own nothing from The Walking Dead.
I hope you enjoy! If you do enjoy, please do let me know!
111
"Do you like these?" Tyreese asked.
Carol stood, hands on her hips, and looked at the pumpkins growing in the area of the patch closest to her husband—her relatively new husband.
Carol and Tyreese had been married now for just over six months. They'd dated for two years before Tyreese had finally convinced Carol to marry him. She'd been in a bad marriage before—a terrible one—and she'd convinced herself that moving from dating to marriage would be the proverbial "beginning of the end" for what had been two years of happiness and love.
Tyreese was inexhaustibly patient, though, when it came to Carol. He hadn't even minded that she'd always limited intimacy to nothing much more than a heavy make-out session until they'd been married—again, mostly owing to negative experiences with her ex-husband and the irrational belief that, somehow, a sexual relationship would be what brought out the worst in Tyreese.
She remembered, very fondly, the day he'd finally convinced her to marry him. It had been probably the twentieth or thirtieth time he'd proposed. That time—the last time—there had been no pomp and circumstance. There had been no planned dinner or special date. In fact, they'd been eating breakfast at a greasy-spoon diner that they both liked, after a night when Tyreese had slept over at Carol's house without complaining, even once, that he was left to choose either the couch or the always-unoccupied "guest" bed for the night, when he'd put the black felt box, which he always carried in his pocket, on the table.
"What if there wasn't anything that brought out the worst in me?" Tyreese had offered. "What if—you've already the seen the worst, and it wasn't too bad, so you didn't even really notice?"
"I wish I could believe that…" Carol said.
She'd meant it, too. She wanted to be with Tyreese. She loved him. She wanted to spend every waking moment with him. He was everything she'd ever dreamed a man could be and, honestly, that was, perhaps, what had frightened her so much. There was an old saying, after all, that if something seemed too good to believe, it probably was.
Tyreese had touched the black box with the tip of his finger and he'd pushed it toward her before turning back to buttering his waffle.
"You either choose to believe it, or you don't," Tyreese said. "The truth is, I don't know how else to prove it to you, other than to simply spend the rest of my life proving it to you. I'm willing to do that, Carol—every day—but not if I'm going to have to spend every one of those days on the outside."
"Are you giving me an ultimatum?" Carol asked.
"No," Tyreese said. "I'm just—asking again. For the last time. Marry me, Carol, and I'll spend the rest of my life making sure we both have the best life we can. If you can't do that—I understand. But—you have to understand that, I can't keep hoping, just to get my feelings hurt every time you tell me that I might turn into a monster."
"I love you, Ty," Carol offered.
"I love you, too. But—love doesn't do much without trust," he offered.
Carol had considered it. He hadn't pressed after that. He didn't say anything. He doused his waffle in syrup and ate it. He finished his hash browns. He offered Carol the strawberry jelly packet for her toast and took the grape for himself, even though he liked strawberry, too, because he knew she didn't care for grape at all.
Carol didn't say anything when she took the ring from the black felt box and slipped it on her finger, and he didn't say anything either. He'd simply smiled at her, and she'd smiled back at him.
It had been, perhaps, the quietest engagement in the history of the world, but it had worked for them.
And Tyreese had kept his word. Their wedding had been equally as quiet as their engagement, as though making a big deal about it might be what ruined it. They'd practically sneaked up on it and, immediately, they'd begun something that both of them enjoyed a great deal—they'd created the personal goal to do every stupid, silly, couple's thing that anyone ever did.
For that reason, today they were at the pumpkin patch, picking out the pumpkins that they would carve for the front steps of Carol's house—their house, now that they were dedicated to making a home together and growing old together.
Tyreese laughed to himself.
"I can tell from your face that you don't like these," he said. "Come on—let's go see what else they've got."
Tyreese placed a hand on the small of Carol's back. She liked the pressure of his fingers there. She liked, too, when he put his arm around her protectively when they were in public. Rather than their marriage ruining things, and rather than opening herself entirely to Tyreese being the biggest mistake of her life, it felt like it was the best thing she'd ever done.
They were happy—truly happy—and she felt safe, and warm, and loved.
"If you liked those…" she offered.
"No," Tyreese said.
"They were just a little—misshapen," Carol said. Tyreese laughed quietly and shook his head. "Asshole," she teased. "These are our first pumpkins. I want them to be—you know—big, and round, and perfect."
"We won't leave here until we have the perfect pumpkins," Tyreese assured her.
"You think I'm being silly?" Carol asked.
"No," Tyreese said. "I think you're being adorable. What about those over there?"
Carol saw the pumpkins he pointed to, and she rushed over. They were perfect. She knelt down in front of one of them and touched the pumpkin, turning it so that she could check all the sides for rot.
"Oh—aren't they sweet?" She asked.
"They're pumpkins, Carol," Tyreese said with a laugh.
"Oh—but we'll carve them," Carol said. She moved toward another. "Oh—a big one like this for you…and that one for me…it's a little smaller. They'll be so sweet on the steps, Ty, and I can roast the seeds for a snack."
Tyreese smiled at her when she straightened up and dusted her hands off on her pants.
"I can't wait to carve pumpkins with you for our porch," he offered. He pulled her to him and planted a soft kiss on her forehead before dipping his head in request of a better kiss. She smiled briefly, but allowed the kiss to take the smile.
When he pulled out of the kiss, Tyreese simply stared at her a moment. Her heart drummed in her chest. She thought it was a good sign that, six months into their marriage, and two-and-a-half years into their relationship, Tyreese could still make her heart beat fast—and always in a good way.
"I love you," she offered.
"I love you more," he offered back, teasing her as he often did. He looked around. "That's the pumpkin you want…and that one?"
Carol hummed and pointed them out again, just so he could be sure.
"Wait here," Tyreese said. He walked away, a short distance, and came back pushing one of the available wheelbarrows meant for easy movement of more than one pumpkin—especially when someone, like Carol, chose some of the larger and heavier ones growing in the patch.
Carol held the wheelbarrow steady, just in case it might threaten to tip over, and she watched as Tyreese took his pocketknife from his pocket. He sawed through the stems of both pumpkins, freeing them, and placed them in the wheelbarrow. When he was done, he came and took the handles from Carol, making it clear that he intended to be the one to push the wheelbarrow through the patch and back toward the exit where they would pay and leave with their treasures and the promise of a pumpkin-themed evening together.
As they walked, Carol looked around her at the pumpkins they passed.
"Wait, Ty," she said, reaching out and catching his arm. He stopped and put the wheelbarrow down so that he didn't have to balance it.
"It's a little late to change your mind," he said. "Once you cut them, they're yours."
"No—it's not an instead," Carol said. She walked over, reached down, and turned over the small pumpkin, checking it for rot. "I want this one, too, Ty."
Tyreese didn't question her. Instead, he left the wheelbarrow, walked over, and cut the little pumpkin free. Carol didn't hide her delight as she smiled at the little round pumpkin. Tyreese placed it in her hands.
"You want to just carry it?" He asked. "It almost seems melodramatic to make it ride in the wheelbarrow."
"I'll carry it," Carol said. "I was going to do that, anyway."
Tyreese smiled at her.
"What do you want it for?" He asked. "I thought you wanted big and round pumpkins."
Carol shrugged her shoulders. She felt her face grow warm. Her breathing grew just a touch shallow. Maybe, even, she felt the slightest wave of dizziness pass over her. She hugged the little pumpkin.
"I do," she said. "And we got that—for your pumpkin…and mine."
Tyreese's expression changed slightly.
"What's that one for?" He asked.
Carol drew in a breath and stilled herself. She'd rehearsed this a few times, in her mind, but saying it was a different thing entirely.
She shrugged a shoulder.
"The baby," she offered.
For a moment, Tyreese stood still. He stood like he was frozen. She wondered if he felt the same kind of insecurity that she felt.
Then, he smiled and the smile broke into an even bigger grin.
"Are you serious?" He asked.
"Surprise?" Carol said.
"You're serious?" Tyreese asked again. Carol thought there was a sudden hoarseness to his voice.
"There's a new little pumpkin growing in our patch," Carol teased, her heart half-fluttering because she could sense his excitement, but her anxiety hadn't entirely dissipated.
Tyreese surprised her by wrapping his arms around her and lifting her up. She squealed out without being able to stop it.
"Careful, Ty!" She said. "You're going to bust the little pumpkin!"
Laughing, he sat her back on her feet.
"I'm not," he assured her. He kissed her quickly and hard. She felt his excitement. He was practically shaking. "I'm not—I'm not. I'm going to take good care of the pumpkin. Both of them…all of them," he said, laughing at the little pumpkin she hugged to her like a security blanket. "I just—I can't believe this…I want to…I want to tell someone. I want to tell everyone."
Carol laughed.
"You can tell—whoever you want," Carol said. "The first person you can tell is the attendant up there…when you buy the baby's first pumpkin."
"I'm going to do that," Tyreese said, heading back toward the wheelbarrow. Carol noticed, as he reached for the handles, that his hands shook slightly. "I'm going to do that," he said. "Everybody's going to know about our little pumpkin."
