AN: I finally managed another "moment" with these three! (I'm also taking all the requests and prompts for other times with them.) I hope that means that I'm over my hump with this fic and able to keep going!

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

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"Knock, knock!"

"Knock, knock!"

Carol smiled as soon as her ears heard the sounds outside of her door. For a moment, she hesitated and hovered just far enough away from the door to encourage another round of calls from outside—one from Daryl, the next from his daughter.

Finally, she opened the door to find Daryl standing there, the glass door propped against his back, holding Poppy and carrying a bag of carry-out food.

"I thought I heard the sounds of a wild Poppy and her Daddy," Carol teased.

"Tried ringin' the doorbell," Daryl said.

"That thing's been broken since I moved in," Carol said. "You know that."

"I keep forgettin'. I'll have to look at it for you," Daryl said. "I'm pretty handy with things like that."

"I bet you are," Carol said. She winked at him. "I know you're good with your hands." She stepped back. "Want to come in?"

Daryl did come inside, and Carol closed the door behind him. He went straight for the table in the kitchen, and he put down the bag he was carrying before he balanced Poppy on the floor. As soon as she was in control of her feet, she ran toward Carol and slammed into her. If Carol hadn't prepared for it, she might have been thrown off balance.

"Miss Carol!" Poppy called out.

"Miss Poppy!" Carol said, laughing as she scooped the toddler up and hugged her tightly.

"Everyone get one of those?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled at him.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not everybody. But you do."

He had started to look just a touch concerned—evidence, perhaps, that their relationship was still quite new—but a smile spread across his face when he realized that she was only teasing him. He moved toward her, and Carol accepted the half hug that encompassed both her and Poppy.

Poppy squealed happily in her ear. Daryl leaned and requested a kiss from Carol. She met him, aware that Poppy was watching them. She was made even more aware of that fact when Poppy placed a hand on each of their cheeks, and the kiss broke with both of them laughing. Poppy, for her part, howled with laughter, too, though she was likely not laughing for the same reason they were.

Poppy laughed because Poppy was genuinely happy most of the time.

"You kiss her!" Poppy said, directing her words to her daddy.

"I did kiss her," Daryl said.

"No! You kiss her! You kiss her, Daddy!" Poppy said, laughing enthusiastically as she finished. She wiggled in Carol's arms, and Carol had to hold tightly to her to make sure that she didn't somehow wiggle herself loose.

"I think she wants me to kiss you," Daryl said.

Carol smiled at him. Her face was warm. It wasn't from embarrassment. Instead, it was from happiness. It was a good feeling. For most of her life, Carol hadn't felt that kind of happiness. It was relatively new, now, but it was so very welcomed.

"I think you don't have much choice," Carol said. "I think—you've probably got to listen to her."

"Probably," Daryl said, trying to look serious as he nodded at her. He couldn't keep his smile away, though, and neither could Carol. He touched her chin and then leaned in for another kiss. Carol laughed into the kiss when she felt Poppy's little fingers petting her cheek again as she kissed Daryl.

"You kiss him!" Poppy squealed, her excitement only growing when the second kiss broke.

"We gonna do this all day?" Daryl asked his daughter.

"Daddy, shhhh, please," Poppy said. "Please…you don't talk, please. OK?"

"You don't talk until the kissing is done," Carol teased. Her face ached from smiling and fighting back laughter. Her face was hot, but she appreciated it. She loved the feeling of it. Poppy's laughter was infectious, and it felt like it was coursing through Carol's veins.

That was not to mention the fact that simply kissing Daryl like this, and watching how joyfully he interacted with his daughter, sent other feelings coursing through Carol's body—including some feelings she wouldn't dare name in front of Daryl, at this point in their relationship, and certainly not in front of Poppy.

"You know she's spoiled—getting everything she wants," Daryl said.

"She could want worse things," Carol said. It was supposed to be her that kissed Daryl, but it was Daryl that moved in for the kiss. The tiny guiding fingers returned to her cheek, and Carol apologized as she pulled out of the kiss to give into the laughter that she could no longer hold back.

"There—that's good. That's all the kissin' for the next couple minutes," Daryl said. He took Poppy from Carol's arms, squeezed her in a hug that made her squeal again, and rested her feet on the ground.

"I didn't expect you," Carol said.

"We can go, if you got somethin' goin' on," Daryl said.

"No," Carol said. "I didn't mean that."

"Shoulda called," Daryl said. "Just—Poppy was showin' out about seein' Miss Carol, and I was pickin' up food, and I thought…"

"I got noodles!" Poppy called.

In the time since her feet had hit the floor, she'd made herself at home. Little by little, Carol was doing what she could to make Poppy comfortable there for when she and Daryl came by to visit. She'd bought the most important thing first—a little toilet seat that fit into the hall bathroom so that Poppy could go on the potty without fear of falling into the toilet. She'd also gotten Poppy a little bathroom stool she could use for going to the potty and brushing her teeth.

Poppy had her own toothbrush and bubble gum flavored toothpaste at Carol's house. She had a little bathroom cup with a puppy on it, too.

Daryl had insisted that Carol didn't need to purchase anything for Poppy, but Carol had also insisted on buying bedding the little girl might like for the guest room turned Poppy's unofficial room, a special stuffed dog for sleeping at Carol's house, a baby monitor so that they could keep up with her from Carol's room, a number of Poppy-approved DVDs and books, and a seat that buckled into the dining room chair to create something of a Poppy friendly dining chair.

"I sometimes wonder if it might be my daughter you're in this for—just puttin' up with me."

That's what Daryl had told her the last time that he'd been at her house—when she'd shown him the latest of her purchases, which had been the items necessary to turn the guest bedroom into an inviting little room for Poppy.

Carol had felt bad, for a moment, to think that he might really believe that, but he'd kissed her worries away and teased her that the toothbrush and razor she'd bought for him, along with the extra-large box of condoms, gave him some indication that she was at least a little fond of him—or really willing to put up with a lot for the sake of having Poppy around.

The truth was that Carol did entirely adore Poppy. She loved having the little girl around. She loved every moment that she got to care for her. The loss of her own daughter would be an ache that she was certain she would live with for the rest of her life, and caring for Poppy didn't heal that ache, but it did make Carol feel happy in a way that she had believed she'd never feel again.

It was also true, though, that Daryl made Carol feel happy in a way that she'd never believed that she could feel. Her ex-husband had been the only man in her life, really, before Daryl, and he'd done very little besides make her feel unlovable and undesirable.

Daryl made her feel like the most desirable woman on the planet.

Her ex-husband, too, had made her feel unsafe. She'd lived on eggshells, never quite knowing what would set him off, but knowing that when he became unhinged, there would be hell to pay.

Daryl never seemed to become too bothered by anything, and when he did, he still didn't seem dangerous or threatening—not to Carol.

Her ex-husband had cost her their daughter's life. He had taken her from Carol. He had caused the wound in Carol's heart that would never heal entirely. He had never loved his daughter, and his final act toward her had been to stop the little life that he'd never truly valued.

Daryl was a single father who was completely devoted to his little girl, and she was a happy, healthy, wonderful little girl with a spirit that her father had nurtured since her birth.

Carol enjoyed the opportunity to bask in the happiness that being around the two of them created for her.

At the moment, Poppy had already found her special plate and utensils in the drawer where Carol had put them so that Poppy could reach them. She'd set her place for herself, at her seat, and she was just about to make a mess for all of them—slowly tugging the plastic bag toward the edge of the table from where she'd managed to catch a corner of it with her fingers.

"I got noodles!" She repeated.

"Easy!" Daryl barked, hopping forward and rescuing the bag before it could finish its Poppy-driven voyage toward the edge of the table and fall onto the floor.

"Daddy—I'm hungry," Poppy said as soon as Daryl stopped the progress of the food by picking up the bag. "Can I eat my noodles? I'm hungry, Daddy…Daddy…"

"I heard you, Poppy," Daryl said. There was a touch more irritation there than he probably meant, likely spurred on by the rush to stop the mess that had been well on its way to happening. Poppy frowned at him, but she didn't get upset. What upset her came next. Daryl looked at Carol. "I gotta ask forgiveness for my rude daughter. It would appear I didn't teach her no manners."

The suggestion that she had no manners and was rude—especially to Carol—was all that a hungry Poppy could bear, apparently. Her face crumpled, and she gave way to a sudden waterfall of tears.

Poppy was sensitive. She was also a hungry toddler.

Carol scooped the little girl up and Poppy wrapped her arms around Carol's neck, not letting go of her plastic fork that she'd been holding in anticipation of the meal to come.

A soggy sound of apology came from Carol's shoulder. Carol rubbed her back.

Daryl closed his eyes, composing himself.

"You're alright, Poppy," Daryl offered.

"Oh—she's just fine," Carol cooed, rubbing Poppy's back. "She's just a little tired, maybe."

"Nuh uh," came Poppy's sodden response.

"Hungry?" Carol asked.

Poppy sat up and looked at Carol with a wet face. She slid her arm across her face to wipe at her nose. Daryl went for a tissue and a washcloth, knowing where to find both, and he cleaned Poppy up while Carol held her.

"I'm not rude. I'm not," Poppy insisted. Her voice was coming out in starts and stops as she got control of herself. "I'm not…Miss Carol. I'm not rude."

"You're not rude," Carol said. She gave Daryl a look. He half-smiled at her and rolled his eyes. Carol had to bite back a smile. In her current condition, Poppy would misinterpret it. "Are you hungry?"

"Mmm hmm," Poppy insisted.

"You always hungry," Daryl said with a laugh.

Carol and Poppy both ignored him. Carol got Poppy situated in her seat and spread the boxes on the table so she could look through the Chinese food that Daryl had brought.

"This looks good," she said, biting into an eggroll even as she put Poppy's preferred noodles on her little plate and cut them up with her little plastic fork to make it easier for her to eat them.

"So, what you're sayin' is you'll let us stay as long as we pay the toll of a Chinese dinner?" Daryl asked.

Carol laughed and looked over her shoulder at him. He leaned and pecked her lips.

"That eggroll tastes pretty good," he said.

"You didn't taste it," Carol said.

"I tasted enough," he said. "But I wouldn't mind some more, if you wanna come here and give it to me."

"Get plates," Carol said as her response.

"I want some," Poppy said. "I want—can I have some? Can I have some of your eggroll?"

The last word came out as something entirely foreign, and Carol showed Poppy the eggroll.

"You want one?" She asked.

"I just—I kinda want that one," Poppy said. "Please—just that one."

"Got your spit on it," Daryl offered from the other side of the kitchen where he was gathering supplies for them. "Makes it taste better."

Carol laughed to herself. She used the little fork to practically tear the eggroll to pieces, and she put the pieces on Poppy's plate.

"There," she said. "That looks like a Poppy-perfect plate!"

Poppy giggled at Carol's declaration.

"Thanks!" She said, as Carol put the plate in front of her. "Thank you! I'm thirsty. I'm thirsty, please."

"You're demandin'," Daryl offered. "Can you say that, Poppy?"

"Daryl…" Carol warned.

Daryl laughed quietly. He brought everything to the table that he'd been carrying, and Carol went to fill up Poppy's sippy cup with water.

"Look how quick I'm a man without a leg to stand on," Daryl teased. "Outnumbered for sure. Can't do a thing right."

Carol approached him from behind—something she'd learned very early on made him jumpy, but she was trying to show him that he didn't have anything to fear from her, and he seemed to be less jumpy now than before—and rested her hands on his hips after she'd given Poppy her cup and accepted the little girl's thanks. Carol pressed herself against Daryl's back and she felt when his muscles relaxed. She heard him sigh, too, with satisfaction.

"You do a lot right, if you ask me," Carol said. Daryl turned and caught her in his arms. He held her arms and squeezed them. For her, that would have once been a trigger. She would have reacted to him restricting her movements. Now, she only tensed for a moment before, reminding herself that this was Daryl, she relaxed. She saw in his face, too, that he recognized the shift. He kneaded her arms affectionately.

"So long as I don't scold you-know-who," he said.

Carol smiled at him.

"She is just a B-A-B-Y. Don't forget that, OK?"

He furrowed his brow at her.

"Does it make you nervous when I scold?" He asked.

"Little bit," Carol confessed. He started to shake his head. "I know," she said, before he could really protest. "Believe me—I don't really think that. Not at all. It's just…"

"Hearts don't think quite as clear as brains do," Daryl offered. Carol smiled at him and nodded.

"Exactly," she said. "Thank you for bringing me dinner."

"You mean interruptin' whatever you had goin' on," Daryl said with a laugh.

Carol hooked her fingers in his belt loops and tugged his hips toward her.

"You can interrupt whatever I've got going on whenever you want," she offered. She winked at him. "As long as you bring food and P-O-Double P-Y."

Daryl smiled at her.

"I think I can handle that," he said. He leaned toward her, requesting another kiss, and she obliged him. This time, there was no one to help them along, but they didn't need a great deal of help. This time, they let it linger a bit.

When it broke, Carol felt like her lips already missed him. He was right there, and she already missed him.

"Movie with both of you after dinner?" She asked.

"You sure you ain't busy?" Daryl asked.

"I wasn't," she said, "but—I'm hoping I will be."

He laughed at her expression.

"With an offer like that," he said. "I can't refuse."