Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
––
Carol was distracted through her entire shift at work, Michonne watched and tried to figure out what was going on, while trying to keep an eye on her son. Andre sat in the break room with toys and apple slices since she opened. She'd asked Rick if he could babysit for her since he was off, and he'd be by once Carl's demist appointment was over, and Michonne got a text telling her he was on his way.
"Are you hungry?" Michonne touched Carol's shoulder, causing her to jump. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
It's okay. I'm just out of it today. I... I haven't been sleeping. She didn't want to talk about the forth. It'd been three days, and she avoided the subject. Daryl told her not to come by for a couple days while he sorted out the loose wood he had lying around for the upstairs. He claimed it was because he didn't want her to get hurt, but she let him think she bought that. She said she'd try and drop by tomorrow, but honestly, she wasn't sure she could.
After she told him about Shawn and a possibly baby, he flew out of her car and practically tossed Spike out of it, too. He was so ready to run away from the conversation that he scared Spike. She knew had to have raised his voice, because Spike was a good dog. He wasn't scared easy, save for when Daryl yelled, and Daryl yelled when he was frustrated. She'd seen him going off when he hurt himself by accident or something wasn't working how he thought it would. He normally went outside and just fell back into the dirt once he was done, and Spike would lie on him. Also, the fact that he wouldn't even let her say goodbye. He just waved and walked off without looking back, and that said he didn't approve of this decision, and it bothered him.
She didn't want to upset him, but honestly, he didn't have any right to be upset. He was leaving town as soon as that fucking house was built, and he wasn't coming back. He'd told her that many times, too, so he really wasn't going to. He was a man of his word, and he kept vocalizing those words. He kept saying it like an assured fact despite everything. Despite taking time to get to know her and this town he wasn't going to stay in, despite letting himself acquire feelings for her. Despite letting himself get closer to her. And now for some reason, despite barely asking her about it, he let himself have an opinion on what she did with her body and let that opinion be known.
It infuriated her, because he made her question it. She had fine with it before she started getting to know him and helping him with that stupid house. She was ready for a baby. She was ready to move on from relationships and focus on this amazing piece of life she and Shawn had made, but now she had doubts. She couldn't even explain them to herself, but they were there. They were everywhere, and she was so unsure about taking this step. She hadn't even contacted Shawn to discuss how this would work. It pissed her off that he got into her head like this. They'd only known each other for a month, and he still wormed his way into her head—and just to leave! Ugh, god damn him!
"You look...furious, not sleepy." Michonne ran her eyes over her friend's face. "What's going on? I'm here if you want to talk."
No, I don't want to talk, but I'll pick up some food for you. The usual?
"Yeah, and whatever you want. My card's in my purse."
I'm not hungry, but thanks. She headed to the back and left with Michonne's card, kissing Andre's forehead goodbye and complimenting his art.
Michonne crossed her arms and wondered what had happened with Carol since the forth. She didn't even get to talk to her at the cookout. She saw her and Shawn, and her and Daryl, but whenever she tried to talk to her, Rick or Carl or Andre would talk to her instead. And by the time that conversation was over, Carol had disappeared again. She was finally told by Denise Carol left early, and when Michonne looked in on Carol, she didn't open the front door. She was close to scaling the damn ivy and looking through the skylight to see what the hell had happened.
She didn't, but she was sorely tempted to. If Andre wasn't asleep in the car, she would have totally done it. It would have gone like this: her weight would probably cause the glass to break, she'd land on Carol's marble-top coffee table and died, but it would have been worth it to see for a second what the hell had made her friend close herself off. She left a note on her door to invite her over for breakfast the next day, but Carol said she had to help move furniture. That was a lie, because Carol never moved furniture. She just pretended to. Rick and Carl joined them to help lessen the leftovers, and Michonne expressed her confusion and doubts with Rick.
He was a good friend, and she liked talking to him, though Carol was a bit of a touchy subject. They worked through that more and more with each time they spoke about her, and Rick didn't seem bothered. He thought of their time together as a learning experience, and he would do better for his next relationship. Michonne was proud of him for getting to that point, and he asked her over for dinner with Carl. She had no other plans, so she went and found Carol lurking around down with an ice cream tube. She also confronted her about this morning, but she looked like she had bigger problems. Problems, Michonne had hoped she'd discuss with her, but it was fine. It was. They'd get there when Carol was ready. She hoped.
The front door opened ten minutes later, Carl ran over and tackled Michonne in a hug, grinning at her. She ruffled his hair and told him Andre was in the back, and Rick apologized for being late. They had to clean his teeth and once again talk about the importance of flossing.
"It's okay." She glanced at the back. "I'm worried about Carol. Have you heard anything?"
"Not really." He adjusted the sleeve to his shirt. "Other than she and Daryl are going out."
"They're fixing his house."
"Not the story I've heard." He didn't care for rumors, but the source of this was trusted. He knew Densie didn't spread stories, and he knew it had to be something for how Daryl had been acting at the store lately. He kept checking his phone and asking Dale for advice without really telling him the problem. There was something going on there.
"I don't want a story. I want to know the truth. She won't tell me, so I have to ask Daryl." She heaved a sigh. "I don't want to ask Daryl."
"Do you want me to?"
"No, I can handle it. I just don't want more of his bad mood." She dropped her arms to her sides. "That aside, what are the plans for today?"
"Well, we're going to the water park for a couple hours then dinner at the diner, and I'll pick you up for dessert at my place."
"How bold of you to assume I won't have already had dessert by the time I close." She smirked.
"Then second dessert." He couldn't keep a straight face and laughed. "I'll see you tonight then?"
"I close at eight, and could you get a to-go dinner for me? Just a salad—"
"—and an order of fries," he finished with her. "You want a soda, too?"
"No ice."
"Got it." He pointed to the back, and she nodded. "That back door has no alarm, right?"
"Yeah." She watched him leave and heard the front door open as Enid and Noah ran inside and over to the fish tanks. She chuckled and greeted Tara. "Good to see you."
"Every day, right?" She offered a hug. "Good to see you look happier each time."
"It's summertime. I have a good flow of customer and my baby is with me. I don't have to check homework when I get home. I also don't have to pay a babysitter."
"And it has nothing to do with my deputy?" Tara smirked at the blush on Michonne's cheeks. "My mistake."
"It is your mistake. He was involved with my best friend, and it hasn't even been a month since then. I wouldn't do that to her. Our sons are friends, and we're friends."
"Then why did you say "involved" and not "dated"? It's a good way to distance it, huh?" She arched a brow at Michonne to dare her to challenge her. "Just be sure it's worth it, you know, if it happens once the month has passed."
"Why don't you just enjoy the animals with your kids?" She turned on her heel and walked behind the counter, exhaling at the irritation brewing in her chest. Tara wasn't wrong. Michonne tried to ignore it, but there was an attraction there. She didn't want to be his rebound from the rebound, and as much as she loved Carol, that exactly what she was, only it failed massively. Michonne didn't want that. She hadn't dated in years, and if she was going to date a man who her son liked and who got along with his son, she wanted it to be real. She wanted it to mean something bigger than a rebound. She knew Rick wasn't even in the place to date, and she wasn't going to make anything of this. And if she did, she'd talk to Carol first. They were adults, best friends, family, and Michonne owed it to her to talk about what Rick and she might become.
A to-go box was placed in front of her, Michonne looked over at Carol and smiled a thanks.
Where's Andre? I bought him some chicken fingers and curly fries. She hadn't seen him in the break room, and his stuff was gone, too.
"Oh, Carl just finished up at the dentists and wanted to play. I figured it'd be better than having him sit inside on such a nice day." She picked up her meal. "You can eat the chicken fingers, if you want."
How is Carl doing?
"He's doing great. He's thrilled to become a big brother. He loves hanging out with Andre. He's having a good summer, and we're a little bummed he's going back next month, but we're going to make the most of it."
We? You and Andre?
"Yeah, but mostly me and Rick." She studied those ocean orbs as she dropped his name. "We're planning a little trip to the amusement park followed up by a slumber party. Just a little celebration to kick off the school year, but that's for August."
She nodded. Sounds like it'll be a good time.
"Yeah, it should be. We're both excited about it." She cleared her throat. "I'd invite you, but it's really just for the kids, and... you don't have any."
She chuckled softly. Well, I hope Enid and Noah have a good time then.
"Yeah. I'll have to ask Tara or Denise about it once it's all planned out, and they know where the kids will be."
I'll watch the front while you eat.
"Thanks." She paused. "How are you and Daryl doing? With the house and everything?"
It's going. She shrugged a shoulder. We're almost done, so he'll be leaving soon, I bet.
"I'm sorry. That must be rough."
It is what it is. Now go eat before your food is cold.
She set a hand over hers on the counter. "I'm always here for you, Carol."
I know you are, and I'm really okay.
There was a moment where both women wanted to discuss the real issues in their lives, black eyes in blue, and all of their years together made the other a safe haven. They had been through just about everything together, and they wanted to have an open and deeply honest conversation, because Carol was shaken about the decision in front of her, and Michonne was starting to fall for the guy who had pursued Carol for over a year. There were doubts there and uncertainties, but they hadn't even worked most of it out for themselves, so the moment passed.
Michonne walked to the back to have her lunch, and Carol manned the counter, greeting Enid and Noah as they came to buy some animal-shaped suckers. There was still a lingering urge to talk, but it wasn't the time for it now. But soon Carol would need her best friend, and Michonne already needed Carol, but guilt and worry caused a rift.
––
Michonne called and let Carol know the store wouldn't be open today. Andre caught a bug yesterday and was puking all over the place. Carol offered to come and make some soup for him, but Michonne was on the way to the doctor's. She asked her to come by tonight, though, and Carol promised. She told her to kiss Andre for her, and they disconnected the call.
Carol dragged herself out of bed and decided to take the initiative. She glanced over the weather report and mentally groaned at the temperature but changed into some jeans and a tank top, tying her hair back into a ponytail and shove on her converse. She jogged out to her car and felt like she'd slipped into an oven. She flicked on the air and pulled out, praying it kicked on in two seconds or less.
By the time she arrived at Daryl's, the air had just gotten cold and she hated everything. She didn't bother knocking, knowing he left the door open since nobody ever come to see him but her and maybe Dale. She walked in and instantly tripped over something, smacking into the wall.
"Who the hell?!" Daryl stormed down the stairs and found Carol on the floor. "You're the hell."
She winced and attempted a wave.
"What the fuck are you doing? I told you not to come over. I have wood everywhere."
I thought you were lying to avoid seeing me. I didn't seriously believe you had wood everything! She minded her legs over the stacks of floorboards around her and exhaled. Why didn't you move these?
"I am. Just, like, right now. They're heavy." He moved around them. "Spike ain't even in the house right now."
You have that baby outside in this heat?
"He has one of those water hose sprinkler attachments with him." He looked her over once he reached her. "You all right? How's the cut from the other day?
I'll have bruises on my ankle, but I'm good. That cut is mostly health. It's scabbing now. She accepted his hand and stood up. Thanks.
"Well, since you just broke into my house, you're helping me lay out the flooring for the bedrooms."
Oh, whoa, no. I don't know how to do that. I don't want to do that, and I did not break in. The door wasn't even locked. Any nutjob could walk in here. It just happened to me.
He chuckled. "Too bad. Grab two from this pile."
Didn't you saw it was heavy?
"When you're tryin' carry a four whole stacks, yeah."
Oh, my God, Daryl. That's dangerous. You're here entirely alone. Why would you do that? She scolded him. If I hadn't checked on you, you could have in a lot of trouble. You could have seriously injuried yourself, maybe died if you fell down the stairs and broke something.
"I got you now, so haul. Please." He collected another stack and went upstairs.
She inhaled to calm herself and decided to kill him later. She helped him haul up all the boards, but he first tossed a pair of gloves down at her face. He swore he was aimming for her feet, and she huffed and flipped him off. He seemed to seriously think about it, and she blushed, telling him to get to work. He laughed, and they moved the correct boards to the correct bedrooms, and Carol saw he'd torn up the old floors.
Why did you do this? She gestured to the floors, tucking the gloves into her pocket.
"I just...woke up and hated it." He scratched his thumb over his nose. "Got some fresh paint yesterday, too."
I thought you weren't going to do anything with this room. Well, these rooms. They were for the buyers.
"They are, but I might be getting my nephew in August while his mom is on a business trip, and I want him to have a nice room." He smiled somewhat. "I decided it'd be a waste to make one nice room and not do the others. Ain't like I'm in a rush."
I suppose not. She tucked loose hair from her ponytail behind her ear. So, what now? I want to help make a room for Peter.
"Don't you have a job?" He leaned against the doorframe and eyed her.
I do, but Michonne's son is sick. She's taking him to the doctor's, and the store is closed, so I have a free day. I'm part time anyway, so bite me.
"Tell me where," he murmured.
You should stop murmuring. It's hard for me to make it out. She stepped closer, and his cheeks felt hot. Unless you don't want to me make it out, which is rude.
"You don't need to hear everything I say." He pushed off the frame and got into her personal space, causing her to look pink now, and he smirked. "If you're staying, the tennis shoes need to go. There's loose nails everywhere."
I don't have any work boots.
"I do, but they're clearly gonna be oversized." He took a step towards his bedroom. "Unless you wanna just go home now."
She kicked her converse off and snagged them off the floor, and they went to his bedroom. She set her shoes by the couch and saw him going through his closet before he stepped out and tossed a pair of boots by his bed. She noticed they were new or lightly used, and she sat on his bed to put them on, and he eyed her for a moment before realizing he'd tossed them out like he was going to put them on. It was a habit, and also an accidental invitation for Carol to get on his bed.
"You good?" He watched her slip them off. "You can always just watch."
You already dragged me into it, so no thanks. I'm in this, too. She stood up. I used to walk in my dad's shoes all the time.
"Yeah, twenty years ago."
Just hush. Show me what I need to do to help.
"I'd say go home, but I have for the past thirty minutes, and you haven't."
He was teasing, but Carol felt somewhat unwanted. Do you really want me to leave? If you think I'll get in the way, I'll go. Or I can keep Spike company.
"I'd like some help with the rooms," he confessed. "I just...like gettin' you flustered. Highlight of my day."
She playfully rolled her eyes. Just lead the way.
He didn't have time to show her everything, so he gave her the basics, and he made sure he collected almost every lose nail he could. She picked up on it quickly, and he was impressed. She asked about his nephew while they worked, and he was surprised how easy it was to talk about him. Carol seemed to be able to get any information out of him with a few simple questions, and she supplied some details on her life as well, though he could tell she didn't want to. He knew it was about him leaving soon, and when they were done here, he might be gone that much sooner. He still didn't know if Peter was even coming down. His mom might ship him off her sister's, but he hoped. He'd begged. Maybe she'd listen.
No one knew this, but Daryl didn't have an older brother anymore. Merle had overdosed and died when Peter was two years old. He'd gotten better when he found out he was going to be a father, but he relapsed one final time, and his choice had been polluted. It wasn't clean, and it killed him. Daryl broke for a good year and a half, but he knew Merle wouldn't want that. Merle had changed himself for his son, but addiction caught up to him, as it had their dad and their mom, and Daryl vowed to be there for Peter through everything.
He didn't count on Peter's mom hating him. He didn't know why until he learned Merle had tried to reach him, tried to ask him for help through the urges, and Daryl had been move around so much that he didn't get the messages. He lost in phone in one city and moved to the next without contacting Merle to let him know. She partly blamed Daryl for not being there for Merle, and she tried to keep Peter away from him ever since, but sometimes she would remember that Merle wanted Daryl in his life and let Peter see him. Sometimes had become rarely, and he couldn't remember when the last time he even saw the boy in person was. Honestly, he doubted Peter even remembered him at all.
Carol's hand landed on his back, and they decided to take a break. They sat on the top of stairs, drinking water and stretching out their backs. Carol lied back and closed her eyes, pressing the water bottle to her brow, enjoying the feel of the air conditioning on her body, and she wanted to stretch her legs out, but she'd definitely lose Daryl's boots down the stairs. She'd just take what she could get.
Daryl looked over when Carol lied down, her tank top hiking up over her belly, and he averted his eyes, but it didn't go very far. He tried not to look, but his eyes weren't listening to his brain. He saw she had flawless skin, untouched by the sun and a creamy white. She wasn't all skin and bones either, a little pudge on her belly, and his mouth dried at the thought of how soft her skin must be.
He groaned and flopped back beside her, she looked over at him when a puff of air smacked her, and he rolled his eyes to the left to gaze her. She smiled, and he returned it, closing his eyes. They lied there together for about thirty minutes more, enjoying the silence and the feel of someone beside them. They didn't speak or move, just relaxed and were still. It felt incredible to Daryl, because he'd never been able to actually do this before. Relax after working hard, but her presence soothed him.
Then it was right back to the grind, and they finished up one of the rooms. Daryl congratulated her on her efforts, and she grinned up at him. They moved to the next one, and Carol loved the gray wood color. She mentioned it was lining her cottage, and he was a little stunned. He thought she'd have more colors, and she assured him the couch and the plants and the bedding provided plenty of color.
"Maybe I'll see for myself one day, get some fresh herbs off you."
She rolled her eyes. As if!
He chuckled. "Let's get to work."
––
It was after nine when they finished two and a half rooms, Daryl said he'd get to the others tomorrow, and Carol offered to assist. He didn't say yes or no, just smacked her arm light with a glove and said he'd buy her a drink. He let Spike inside and rubbed him down, and Spike panted blissfully at the scrubbing to his belly then caught the familiar scent of Carol and took off like a shot. She barely caught him before he hugged her, and Daryl tracked him down to get him dry before they left.
Daryl drove her to his favorite bar and ordered a couple beers and burgers, and they sat in a booth in the back. Carol was starving and picking at the nuts in the basket at the center of the table, and he told her the food oughta be out soon.
"How have you been since the fourth?" It suddenly hit Daryl that he had ordered beer, and for all he knew she was pregnant. Or waiting to see if the sperm had...done their job. Fuck. "Can you have beer? Shit, I didn't even think about that."
She caught his wrist and shook her head.
"I can get you water instead."
No, it's okay. I'm not pregnant. I haven't spoken to Shawn yet about getting a sample. She smiled awkwardly at the use of that word. I need a drink. It's all good.
"Oh." He sat back down and nodded. "Why haven't you talked to him yet? I thought you were delighted by the news. You cried."
I've been busy with the store.
"Bullshit. You could have gone over there, fucked him and gotten pregnant in thirty minutes." He didn't mean to sound so brash, but there was no taking it back. He could just calm his ass down for the next sentence. "It isn't hard to get pregnant."
I know it isn't hard to get pregnant, but... I'm a little scared. I honestly thought he'd need more time, and I would have it all worked out at that point. He thought it over faster than I expected, and I don't know what step to take next. Oh, and for the last time, we won't be having sex to make this baby, okay?
"I know. It was just... a slip up. I'm sorry." He lowered his eyes. "You have doubts?"
I do. I have...so many doubts in my head at all times. She released a prolonged sigh and explained. I'm limited, and I hate to say that, but I am. I'm worried the baby might be lonely or feel neglected because I can't hear them cry. I won't know they might need soothing. I'm worried the baby might be hurt, but I won't know immediately. I'm worry I'll mess this kid up, because there's only so much I can do to read a baby. And what if because I'm deaf, I delay its development somehow? Like its speech? And that affects other growth? What if I can't do it by myself?
"Hey, hey, that's just nerves. Fuck them. You'll do great. You don't even know your full limits with a newborn. You'll have to work a little harder, but you always do."
She huffed defeatedly. You're only saying that, but honestly you don't know. I could ruin this kid. I could ruin myself trying.
"You're just scared. It'll pass."
But it's not passing, Daryl. She met his eyes and her lips parted, trying to explain how frustrating these emotions were. If anything, it's getting worse, and I don't know what to do. Shawn is ready to help me make this baby, but I don't know if I'm ready to have this baby. I can't undo it once it's done, and I can't think of talking to Shawn about it right now.
"Then give it some more time. I mean, just wait." He searched her eyes and clasped her hand to stop her from talking. "Just wait, okay? We'll eat and have a couple drinks. Play some pool, if you want. Or darts. Just...don't think it right now. For the next hour, don't think about it."
She managed to nod.
"I'll be right back."
Daryl returned with their beers and a couple shots of tequila. Carol immediately said no, but he coaxed her into it. She frowned but took the shot. She told him not to go home to the dock after this, and he promised. They drank half of their beers before their food came out, and they devoured every piece of food on the plate. Daryl offered Carol his pickle, she didn't miss the chance to make a dirty joke, and he stole a fry for having to listen to it. She swiped a piece of bacon from his burger, and he said that was a true crime right there. They laughed, and she told him she'd make it up to him.
They ate, played some pool and drank a couple more beers, a buzz setting in for Daryl, though Carol was a lightweight, and he was starting to realize just how much of a lightweight. He also learned Carol was a little flirty while drink. She couldn't sign so well, but she kept touching him unnecessarily. He would remove her hands and tell her to focus on the pool game, and she would, but they'd end up in the same cycle. He tried to laugh it off, because he really wanted to just kiss her.
She was so gorgeous, half leaning, half supported by the pool table, her hair down and messy around her shoulders, her lips red and glossy, and her smile was more intoxicating than anything else he'd had that night.
"Let's get you home." Daryl paid their bill and escorted Carol out of the bar, and they almost tripped on the steps build into a sloop down to where he'd parked. "Shit."
She stumbled, but he caught her waist, and her arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her closer and upright. She searched his eyes and moved to kiss him, but he stopped her. She didn't seem to get why he'd moved away, and he told her to lean on him. He walked her to the car and felt her hand on his chest again, only her fingers were moving, spelling, and it was sloppily written out, but he was able to tell what she was trying to say.
I... like... you... too. It was spelled much worse through her fingers, but that was what it meant. He wanted nothing more than to ask her if she was serious, but she was drunk and couldn't be trusted. He lifted her into the passenger seat and checked her purse for an address. He couldn't take her back to his place. He needed some space to process some things, and he didn't want to deal right now. He never thought he'd hear that or feel that, and he just couldn't right now. He couldn't.
He found her wallet and address, knowing this place from some haunted stories Noah told him now and then when he'd come by to help him out. He drove to the address and found the half-hidden path, carrying Carol since she'd passed out on him, and he dug out her keys, seeing an alarm system was in place. He knew it'd be loud, and he didn't want to deal with her waking up right now, but he noticed a cracked window by the kitchen and knew it hadn't been armed yet.
He unlocked the door and held his breath, but it was silent. He closed the door and found himself standing in Carol's home. It was like a catalogue cottage, and it was fucking cool. She had herbs growing out of the shelves built into the wall, a nice little kitchen with up-to-date equipment. A cozy living room/ kitchen, and behind the TV was another room, but he didn't want to open the door, because it wasn't the bedroom. He could see the bedroom now, and he approached it.
There was a half wall just below the bedroom where her bathroom was, blue and white frosted ovals and circles hung down to connect the edge of the bedroom to the half wall, acting as a cover almost. He peeked inside and saw a seriously expensive shower built into the wall, tile flooring, a blue and white marbled toilet, and the counter lining the forested glass wall had the same blue and white marble. It made him want to brush his teeth and shower, which was weird for a bathroom, but all right.
He climbed the spiraled staircase, wondering how in hell she could afford this place and pulling Carol closer to keep her from hitting her head on the wall. He seriously prayed she never walked this drunk. She was liable to fall and break her neck. Hell, he might have if he didn't have good balance. Fuck.
He came off the last step and found her bedroom fit her to a damn T. The bed was half hidden as it was area around her bed was built into the wall and likely was meant to be a closet of a sort, but she said fuck it and shoved a whole ass bed into it. He almost laughed. The bed fit well, and she had plenty of room for her nightstands and dressers. It felt secure to walk on, too. He was impressed.
He set her down on the bed, finding a trashcan nearby and resting her on her side with a couple pillows to support the posture. He removed her shoes and let them drop wherever, moving back when she moaned as if she was waking, but she didn't.
"Okay." He backed up and nodded his head. "Good. That works."
He padded down the stairs and was ready to roll out when a wave of nausea rolled over him from the carrying and bouncing down the stairs and the tequila shots. He gagged and barely made it to the toilet before he hurled. He expelled everything from his stomach and knew then why he didn't do tequila shots.
By the time his guts were empty and the waves of nausea were sated, he was too weak to walk. He crawled over to the couch, grabbing a pillow from it, and he died right there on the floor. He wasn't moving. He wasn't doing anything else. He was done for today. Good fucking night.
– – –
Carol woke up to sunlight landing in her eyes, boiling her precious and highly sensitive eyeballs, and she groaned, covering her face with a pillow. It was too much force, and she whined at the smack to her face. She could smell her shampoo on her pillows and felt nausea rolling in. She threw the pillow off and sat up, the entire world moving with her as her brain screamed at her. She wanted to die. This was hell.
She saw her bedroom before her and her shoe-less feet, a shaky gasp escaping her lungs. She pushed herself up and over to the railing to see into the downstairs. She instantly saw Daryl on the floor of her living room and fell down to hide. She shook her head and felt more panic than pain. She didn't let men into her home. She didn't let them anywhere near where she lived. The only man was Andre, and he was just a little boy. How did this happen?
She was still dressed, and he was downstairs fully dressed, so they didn't have drunken sex at her place. They just somehow ended up here instead of going back to his place. He had no idea where she lived, how the hell did he get her home? She knew they left that bar alone. Maybe. She couldn't recall the leaving, just the burgers and the conversation about the baby, but nobody could have told Daryl about her home. Only Tara, the seller and Michonne knew where she lived. It was hidden on a broken trail with warning signs, and wild animals kept people away, so how?
She pulled her legs up to her chest and noticed her purse wasn't with her. She scanned the area to be sure and stood up to check, and sure enough it was on the coffee table. He likely dug her wallet out of her purse and got the address, but even then it was a hike to get here. And all the steps and the alarm. How did he get by all of that? He had just as much to drink as she did.
She noticed Daryl's hair ruffling against the pillow and looked up to see the trees bending. It was windy, and she could even smell rain on the breeze. She left a window open, and the alarm system didn't arm. Son of a bitch! She could have thrown herself over the ledge. She always was sure to set it. She was just so determined yesterday. Ugh, what the hell was wrong with her?
She carried herself downstairs and walked behind the couch to slam the window shut, engaging the alarm and turning to Daryl to wake him up. She saw he was rousing on his own, his eyes bloodshot and aching, and she knew she couldn't just kick him out. He had done a nice thing, bringing her home and leaving her a trashcan and on her side. He took care of her, so she needed to do the same for him. Even if it was in her home.
Good morning. She stood over him, and he rubbed his palm into his eye, wincing at the overhead light. I'm going to take a shower, but there's aspirin in the kitchen. You can make coffee, too, if you want.
Thanks. He couldn't imagine speaking right now, and he was so fucking pleased Carol couldn't talk, because he would cry if he heard words. His own thoughts were killing him. Fuck, the booze was nothing on the vomit. It'd kicked his ass. He felt like death.
Carol went to the bathroom and found how his party ended last night. She groaned and flushed the toilet, sending him a glare he couldn't see, and she cracked open the window behind the toilet for some fresh air. She undressed and dropped her clothes into the hamper, stepping into the shower, the glass tinting automatically, and she sat on the floor to just let the water wash over her. She'd clean up later.
Daryl managed to peel himself up off the floor and found the aspirin, tempted to snort them so they'd kick in faster, but he wasn't for that life anymore. He tossed about six of them back and cupped water to his mouth, his brain not thinking to get a glass, and he slouched against the counter, looking out the window and enjoying the pre-storm breeze. He hoped he rolled his windows up, because he wasn't going out there right now. Fuck all of that.
It was nearing noon when the pair were able to function like regular humans, Carol decided to make lunch, and Daryl looked up through the skylight as the rain poured down overhead. Daryl had told her he liked her place and all that happened last night, and she was grateful she hadn't done anything too embarrassing. He assured her she hadn't, and he offered to help her with lunch, but she had it.
Daryl watched her back as she prepared lunch, and he smiled to himself, enjoying this day even though they'd spent the morning in pain and drinking water and not speaking words. He wanted more afternoons like this, with her, and he stood up as she turned around with two plates.
"Smells good." He walked over to the thin wooden island. "Any drinks?"
Just some juice in the front. White cranberry, I think. Do you want some? It's really good.
"Why not? I'll get it. Where do you keep your glasses?"
She pointed to the built-in rack over the counter where glass mugs rested.
"Rustic." He smirked and pulled two down. "Ice?"
It's in the tray. I don't want any. She tucked hair behind her ear and waited for him to pour the drinks and join her.
"Here." He set the cups down and looked over the grilled cheese on the plate in front of him. It wasn't just a grilled cheese. He could already tell, and it smelled so good. "What is this?"
It's a grilled cheese with a little herb and oil, some country ham, fresh tomato and three types of cheese. It's my go-to hangover meal.
"And you're sharin' it with me?"
It's not a secret recipe. It's just a favorite. My dad used to make it for me, and I just added to it. I hope you like it.
He lifted it up and took a huge bite out of it, oil and tomato juices rolling down his chin. She offered a napkin, smiling in amusement at him, and he wiped his chin off. "Damn, that's good."
Yeah? You like it? I grew the tomatoes and herbs, and I baked the bread a couple days ago. It's good?
"You—you made this bread?" His brows shot up in amazement. "Dude, it's fuckin' good."
I learned from Annette. Andre used to be super picky about bread and crust, so I just made him some instead. He grew out of his issues, but I like to make it now and then.
He couldn't believe this woman, and he wanted to know more about her, even more than he already knew. He wanted to keep being surprised by her, and fuck, he really wanted her. He had no right to her, not when he kept blowing up on her and he might be leaving, but he had to try.
"Carol?"
She was in the middle of chewing, but she met his eyes.
"C—could you wait?" He gulped and clarified what. "I mean, could you wait on havin' a baby? Please?"
She searched his eyes, seeing beyond the clear blues and the shifting, and she swallowed with some difficulty. She averted her eyes for moment, not sure of what she'd seen. It'd been so long since she'd seen it, and she wanted to ask him if he was sure, but she knew he wouldn't ask this if he wasn't. She licked oil off her thumb and met his eyes again.
Okay.