AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

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Daryl wasn't entirely dry when he'd put on clean clothes after washing off, but it didn't matter much. Even as the quilt-curtain that Carol hung to give them privacy dropped closed behind him, Daryl was peeling off the clothes he'd put on. They would be clean to wear the following day. A little clean water, after all, hadn't hurt them in the least.

In the bed, Carol sat perched up on both their pillows. She would remain that way until hew as ready to come to bed, and then she'd give him his pillow back. She was reading one of her books, and she didn't even look up at him when he came in—at least not that he saw.

"I thought you washed off earlier," Carol said. "When you bathed Sophia."

"Planned to," Daryl said. "Mostly just washed my hands and face, though. Soph was kinda wired up tonight. Had to run her down to get her in the water, and I damn near had to hold her down to get her washed. It weren't like some nights when I can talk her into just keepin' me company or helpin' me by washin' my back for like ten minutes."

"You should have told me she was bad," Carol said.

"Didn't say she was bad," Daryl responded.

"Well—trouble," Carol said.

"Didn't say that, either. She was three. And there's been a lot goin' on around here all day. Lots of new faces an' things to do an' she was just—three."

"You should have told me," Carol said. "I would have helped. I wouldn't have made you handle it all by yourself."

Daryl laughed to himself.

It had been years since her asshole ex-husband had started decaying in the Georgia dirt near a rock quarry located outside of Atlanta. It had been years since the asshole had last left a mark on her body. It had been years since he'd called her some demeaning name or demanded that she make his life better than any life could possibly be or face the consequences of his wrath. It had been years since he'd suggested, in his own not-so-subtle way that it might be better for everyone—but mostly for him—if they were to go ahead and do something like break Sophia's neck because, as practically a newborn, she cried too much and inconvenienced the asshole.

It had been years since Carol had to worry about Ed Peletier, but he was still with her. The words he'd said and his years of training her to respond in certain ways had stayed with her. Daryl understood, though. He had his own demons and he didn't expect hers to fade when his had been around for even more years than hers.

She still worried that Sophia—who he loved beyond explanation—would irritate him to the point that he might, somehow, come to regret his decision to take on the role as her Daddy.

"You was busy enough cleanin' up after feedin' all them people—which you did a great damn job organizing, I might add," Daryl said.

"I could have handled it," Carol said.

"You could have," Daryl ceded. "But it was more important that you get off your feet just a lil' bit. Hershel said you doin' good. Doin' great. Says you handlin' carryin' that little one better'n anybody probably would. But that don't mean that you don't need to be kind to your body and rest some. Besides—I think I did an OK job. Sophia's clean. I'm clean. She's in bed."

Carol smiled at him from her spot in the bed. She put her book down on the nightstand and folded her reading glasses on top of the book. Then she spread the pillows out and moved over to clearly make Daryl's spot available to him.

It was such a simple way to welcome him to bed and to welcome the finish to another day. Something so simple, though, made Daryl feel incredibly warm and instantly relaxed.

He shucked off what was left of his clothing and Carol raised the blanket for him as he reached the bed. He slipped under the blanket. And immediately she somewhat rested her body on top of him and caught his face with her fingers. She turned his face toward her and kissed him with the kind of kiss that made him shiver.

"Whatever I done, let me know," Daryl teased. "I wanna do that shit again."

"You're just you," Carol said with a satisfied sigh. "You do that every day. And I appreciate it every day."

Daryl rearranged himself so that Carol could sink down next to him and rest with her head on his shoulder while he held her. He used the arm that she wasn't weighing down to rub his hand over her skin.

"I appreciate you every day, woman," he mused.

"I know," Carol said. There wasn't any hint of arrogance there. It was a simple statement. He did a good enough job of showing her how he felt that she was becoming comfortable with those feelings. It was difficult for both of them, from time to time, but they were learning to fully appreciate that there was nothing but honesty in the other's feelings. Carol leaned up enough to kiss his chest, and then she dropped back down into the hole that Daryl had made for her. She rubbed her foot up and down the lower part of Daryl's leg and across the top of his foot. "It won't be long before—I'd have my belly all over you in this position."

Daryl raised up the cover with his free arm and glanced under there. Carol was partially on her side, curling around him. She wasn't wearing any clothes. Her belly was already bigger, perhaps, than it had once been, but not by much more than it would be from a well-enjoyed meal. Daryl reached his hand down under the cover and rested his hand on her belly.

"Lookin' forward to it," he offered, rubbing his palm over her skin. She sighed again and wiggled a little to get closer to him. He didn't dare to tell her that there wasn't any way possible for them to be closer. He liked the feeling of her rooting into him—whether she did it intentionally or without thinking.

"Should I be offended or flattered that you think I'm a fat squirrel?" Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"So, you were eavesdropping."

"I was passing by," Carol said. "Your youngest was making demands on my bladder. On the way back, I heard just enough of the story that I wanted to hear a little more. It wasn't eavesdropping. It was—listening to the story."

"Well, next time, why don't'cha just come in an' listen?" Daryl asked.

"Because that's your time with Sophia," Carol said. "And just like she likes Mommy time, she likes Daddy time. I want you two to have that time together for as long as you enjoy it."

"So, you just listen in?" Daryl teased.

"It was only for a minute!" Carol said. "I just heard part of it. I promise. Just—where you called me a fat squirrel that was with Daryl squirrel."

"They was squirrels," Daryl said. "It's you who decided to identify with the fat squirrel—which I might just say was a pretty, fat squirrel. I said that, too."

Carol laughed to herself. She rubbed her face against Daryl, nuzzling him, and he closed his eyes to the sensation. And rubbed his hand over her belly again.

"You think I'm fat," Carol said. "The truth is there."

"I don't think you fat," Daryl said. "I think you gonna get fat."

She pinched him just hard enough to make him pull away and he laughed at her. She immediately pulled him back.

"Asshole," he said. "You do that again an' I'ma get out the bed, an' then where will you be?"

"In the bed," Carol said. She snorted at her own lame joke and Daryl couldn't help but laugh at her.

"Tell me the truth, though, is there somethin' wrong with me tellin' Sophia a story about a squirrel who—who gets fat 'cause she's makin' baby squirrels for their lil' squirrel family? It's what the hell happens."

"No woman likes to be called fat," Carol said.

"You growin' a whole other person in your gut," Daryl said. "You gotta get fat to make room for the kid to grow."

"But it sounds bad," Carol said.

"Why does it sound bad?" Daryl asked. "It's like sayin' it sounds bad to say that somebody's gonna be bald if their hair falls out or they gonna be gray-headed 'cause they get older. It ain't bad. It's just a fact. You a lil' bitty woman. If we gonna put a whole baby inside of you—which that part's been done already—and then it's gonna grow big enough to be born healthy into the world, then you gotta expand to make room for such a thing to happen."

"It's just society, Daryl," Carol said. "It's never been OK for a woman to be fat. Or gray-headed, as you say."

"You're gray-headed," Daryl pointed out.

"You're getting closer and closer to sleeping in Sophia's bed," Carol said. Daryl swallowed back his smile. There was a touch of warning there, but not enough for him to believe that she was really serious. Something had maybe struck a nerve—or, at the very least, she was a touch uncomfortable—but she wasn't really mad.

"Then just tell me the truth," Daryl said. "Be straight about it. What's so damn bad about—you bein' gray-headed?"

"It means I'm old," Carol said.

"Every day, every damn one of us who's lucky gets older," Daryl said.

"Well it's not OK for women," Carol said.

"You supposed to die? Because—honestly? I'd damn well rather you didn't have no hair at all than that you weren't here," Daryl said.

"We're supposed to stay eternally youthful," Carol said. "Didn't you get the memo?"

Daryl laughed to himself. He hugged her into him with the arm she was resting on and brought his hand out from under the cover to hug her a bit better.

"I think I threw that shit in the trash," Daryl said. "I like your hair. And I like you. Just like you are."

"And we're not supposed to be fat," Carol said. "So, if you could just—call me pregnant? Not fat."

"I'll call you fuckin' Batman if that's what the hell you want me to call you," Daryl said. "But I still don't understand it."

"Fat isn't desirable," Carol said. "It just feels like…you won't find me desirable."

"Fuck that," Daryl said. "I can't wait for you to get fat. You know that? Because it's gonna mean that you healthy. It's gonna mean Hershel's right and you're tickin' off them trimesters. It's gonna mean that baby's healthy, an' it's that much closer to getting here so we can get to know it. I'm excited as shit about it."

"But you might not find me attractive, then," Carol said.

"You right," Daryl said, making sure to slather on a thick layer of sarcasm for Carol's benefit. "That sounds just lie me—fuckin' quit wantin' my wife 'cause she's havin' me a baby. That sounds like just the kinda asshole I am."

"OK, when you say it that way," Carol said, "maybe it's not fair to you."

"Thank you," Daryl said.

"But I still don't like fat," Carol said.

"Fluffy?" Daryl asked.

"Fine," Carol said. "But only for my Pookie."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Fair enough, Smooshy," he teased.

"There are assholes like that, though," Carol said.

"Oh, I believe it," Daryl said. "I think my brother might would be one of 'em until someone busted him in the nuts real good or something."

"Ed was like that," Carol said. "He made comments about my body all the time. And it was worse when I was pregnant with Sophia and…things started to change."

Daryl changed their positions for both of them so that he could hover over Carol and kiss her. She seemed to enjoy the kiss, so he found a comfortable position on his elbow to let it linger for a long moment. He dropped his hand to rub over her belly and she responded to him by moaning into his mouth and making her contribution to the kiss a little more dramatic.

Daryl broke the kiss to smile at her. Her cheeks were pink and he knew that look in her eyes. He loved that look in her eyes.

"Hey—you know you're desirable, right?" Daryl said. "Fuck—I thought I was gonna have to beat your boyfriend off with a fuckin' two-by-four. He ain't damn near made in the gate good an' he was off after you. He knew what the hell was the best goods around here."

Carol laughed to herself, but the look on her face didn't entirely fade.

"He was just…"

"Go ahead," Daryl said, interrupting her. "Go ahead and try to explain away the truth. You a beautiful, desirable woman, Carol. Just accept it. He wanted him a piece of that. Sorry asshole did his best to hide it, but he was sore all day that he couldn't do no more'n dream about it. I had to be real careful not to be smug as shit."

"How do you think I feel with two dozen new women around here?" Carol asked. "All of them young and beautiful."

Daryl laughed.

"You attracted to some of them? I mean—I ain't gonna judge. But they oughta know you're married, too."

"You know what I mean," Carol said. "There's a shortage of men, you know. I've heard about it all day long."

"Damn shame," Daryl teased.

"Every man could have his pick," Carol said. "I've heard some of them talking. They stop when I come around, but I can still hear them. You could have your pick."

"Good thing I done picked," Daryl said.

Daryl could feel her tensing. He could tell that the conversation was striking a few raw nerves. He kissed her again, focusing on bringing her back to where she'd been when he broke the last kiss. He rubbed his hand over her breasts and squeezed them gently, mindful of the fact that she'd already complained that they were growing more tender than they once had been, and ran his hand down her body. Slowly she relaxed and he broke the kiss to immediately kiss her jaw and down her neck.

He came back to hover over her.

"I felt jealous today when he was talkin' to you," Daryl said. "I knew you weren't gonna do anything. I knew you wouldn't—wouldn't do that. But it didn't mean that it didn't turn my gut. Make me a lil' bit angry at him that he'd even try."

"I felt that way when I overheard some of them talking about you," Carol admitted. "The women who were helping me."

Daryl nodded his understanding.

"You'd do somethin' for me?" He asked. "I mean—if you don't hate it too much?"

"Anything," Carol said.

Daryl kissed her again. She caught his lip with her teeth for a moment before she released him. He panted out in response. He already wanted her, and such a move only made him want her more.

"You ain't gotta worry," Daryl said. "About them…girls or whatever you worried about. Because—any time you worry about 'em? I want'cha just to think about one thing, OK?"

"OK," Carol agreed.

Daryl slipped his hand down. She was wet. He felt like she was always wet when he wanted her to be wet. He used his thumb to roll the nub that got her attention and she arched her back and sucked in a breath. He moved to rub her with his finger, teasing that he would enter her, and then he hooked his finger inside her while he harassed the nub. She bent her head back and opened her mouth.

"Keep your eyes on me," Daryl demanded. She made a noise of agreement at him. He held her eyes. "You ain't gotta worry 'cause—I done picked what the hell I want. You hear me?" She repeated the sound and closed her eyes as he focused on working the nub with as much pressure as he knew she liked. She squirmed in pleasure and he didn't let up. "Look at me," he said. "You said you'd do what I asked you to do. Look at me."

She opened her eyes.

"Anything," she panted.

Daryl was trying to be serious for the moment, but he had to fight to keep from smiling at simply how happy everything about her made him—even the way she was looking at him. She'd given herself over to him entirely. That, in itself, wasn't that remarkable, but he could feel that she was absolutely relaxed.

He could feel her trust, and that was one of the sexiest things he'd ever felt.

"Tell me—that I ain't got nothin' to worry about," Daryl said.

"You don't," Carol panted. "You don't…you don't…oh…you know you don't…"

"Good?" He asked, continuing his work. The response of her hips and the movement in her back answered his question. "You my wife," Daryl said. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," Carol panted out. "I'm…yours."

The way she said it, and the way she was looking at him, nearly threatened to push Daryl over the top. He stopped his work and she whimpered in response. He laughed in his throat.

"Open up, woman," he said, changing his position. "I'm about to claim what the hell is mine."

She smiled at him and wrapped her arms around him, bringing him to her for a kiss as she rearranged herself to give him complete access to her body.

He shivered too, when he slipped entirely inside her and she tightened her muscles around him to squeeze him from inside. She leaned her mouth close to his ear, and her breath and the word she breathed out combined to send a chill down his spine—a welcome one.

"Mine."