Daryl nuzzles Carol's neck and cups a bare breast, which he squeezes gently. She swats his hand away. She doesn't like to be touched sexually after she's cum. He knows it, but he doesn't know why, and sometimes he can't resist those inviting mounds. He snakes his hand back and gives each one more squeeze before settling a hand on her hip. That she'll allow. Cuddling after sex, she likes.
He kisses her bare shoulder. "I do somethin' right?"
"What do you mean?"
"To get sex two nights in a row?"
She chuckles and rolls toward him. He fumbles for the quilt and pulls it up to their necks. Without the heat of sex, it's grown cool, because he didn't stop to light the bedroom fireplace. When they got in the room, he just kicked the door shut and tossed her, laughing, onto the bed.
Carol kisses his chin and butterflies her fingertips over the uneven scruff of his graying goatee. "You told John not to cheat on his wife."
"Shit, that's it?"
"It's just…overhearing your conversation with him. It reminded me how loyal you are. And I know you talked to Henry, even if you won't admit it…All that just made me appreciate you today. Even more than usual."
"Yeah? Well I like the way ya show yer 'preciation." He kisses her and cups a breast again.
Again she swats his hand away. "I'm not up for a second round."
"Just playin'."
She scoots in so her breasts are pressed against his chest and he can't access them. "Hold me. I'm cold."
He kisses her forehead. "I'll light the fireplace." The cool air assaults his bare skin when he gets out of bed.
"Nice ass," she says as he walks toward the crude wooden mantel and slides off one of the long fireplace matches. He glances over his shoulder and finds her lazily lying with her arm under her head, looking at him.
"Stop."
"Well it is," she insists as she rolls away from him.
Soon the fire is gently burning and they're cuddled together under the quilt with Daryl on his back and Carol wrapped up in his arms. It's only October. They're going to need to pull out the wool blanket in winter for a second layer.
"Think I'll win again?" Carol asks. "The mayorship?"
"Ya even got any competition?"
"The Director of Farming."
"So that's a no, then?"
Carol smiles. "You ever think about running for Council?"
"Hell no. Got to go to 'nuff dumbass meetin's as is."
"Four a year." As Director of Forestry, he has to give quarterly reports to the Council on the state of the wild game in the forests and streams, the status of the smokehouses, the hunters' need for equipment, and the results of their continued training.
"Yeah. 'N that's 'nuff."
"You were on the Prison Council."
"That was diff'rn," he says. "We met when we had to. When we needed to. We was barely survivin'. Scratchin' by. Figurin' shit out. 'N there were threats all the damn time. Ain't had a threat here in two years."
Part of him misses those days. He knows Carol doesn't. She misses the people, of course – Rick and Hershel, T-Dog and Beth, Glenn and Maggie - but not the times. She likes this world they're building here, likes being settled, but still having a challenge and a purpose. But sometimes he feels like a caged animal. It's why he doesn't take as much time off as the other hunters – so he can get out in those woods every day, feel the thrill of the hunt, bury himself in the depths of the forest. It's why he volunteers to go on almost every trade and supply run. So he can be out there on that road, moving…moving….
But then he's got this to come home to: this warm cabin, this beautiful woman who loves him. He knows Carol wishes he were less restless, that he'd spend more time at home and less in the woods and on the road. But she tolerates it, too. He doubts any other woman would.
The door creaks open. In his haste to get Carol undressed, Daryl didn't shut it all the way. Merle pokes his nose in and pushes the door further open. The fire must have died out completely in the living room. The dog pads across the floor and jumps up into the bed. He attempts to wedge himself between them. "Down!" Daryl growls. "She's mine."
Merle barks.
"At the foot or yer out," Daryl tells him.
Merle whimpers but pads to the foot of the bed, where he circles before settling, his head on his paws, as he faces the fireplace. He lodges one last complaint in a whine.
"Shush," Daryl tells him. "Lucky 'm lettin' ya stay at all."
[*]
Carol sleeps later than she means to and awakes to the sound of Herhsey's laughter in the living room. She dresses and ventures out to find the boy already dressed for school and lying on his stomach on the bear skin rug reading one of Henry's old comic books. Merle is trying to turn the pages with his nose and getting pushed away. The re-lit fireplace crackles. Two empty bowls rest on the kitchen table, and Daryl is pouring coffee into a metal cup from the French Press.
"Did you make Hershey breakfast?" she asks.
"Mhmhm. Oatmeal. More for you in the pot." He gestures to the wood stove with his coffee cup and then sips. "Might be late tonight," he tells her. "Gonna survey some new hutnin' 'n fishin' grounds with Cyndie."
"Are you actually going to submit the survey report to the Council?"
"She is."
"Oh, so you're making your new deputy director do all the reports?"
"Hell else I got one for?"
"Are you bringing Henry?" Carol asks as she picks up the French press and pours herself a cup. "He needs to learn the ropes. One day, when we're both dead and gone, he'll be doing your job."
"How ya know Cyndie ain't gonna be doin' it?"
"Because she'll be mayor." Carol takes a sip of her coffee. "If Enid isn't. Then she'll be Chairman of the Council."
"I'll take 'em," Daryl answers, "but he's teachin' hunter's safety at the school this mornin'. Guess I got some time to kill."
"Good, then you can walk Hershey to school."
"I'm old enough to walk myself!" Hershey insists.
"Kid's right," Daryl says. "Ain't that far. Practically 'cross the street."
"Okay, then, walk yourself, little man." Carol walks over to the rug and looks at the comic book Herhsey is reading. "Oh!" she exclaims. "No! That's inappropriate for you, honey." She crouches down and grabs the comic book straight from his hands.
"But Henry gave me that!" Hershey whines.
"I'll go through those comics later and sort out the ones that are appropriate for you," Carol says. "You'll have plenty to read. But now it's time to go get your backpack."
Hershey scrambles to his feet with a dark cloud on his face. He glowers at her, but he doesn't dare talk back. He does manage to stomp a few times on his way to his bedroom to get his backpack, and he's equally gruff when he jerks open the front door. "Have a good day at school today," Carol calls after him. "I love you!"
Herhsey slams the door behind himself without a word.
"Well that was pleasant," she says as she comes over to the counter where Daryl is still standing and sipping his coffee. She drops the comic book on it. "Did you know there were naked women in Henry's comic books?"
"They ain't neked. Just ain't got a lot of coverage in the armor department."
Carol flips a page and points at three naked women feeding grapes to a Viking hero of some sort.
"Oh," he says.
"I hate these things." She closes it and rolls it up. "Even the regular ones. They're so sexist. The male heroes are usually covered head to toe, while the female ones run around in bikinis. Who can fight like that?"
""S good strategy."
"How?"
Daryl sets his cup down on the counter. "Ain't no man can fight a woman with 'er tits hangin' out like that. Too damn distractin'."
Carol smacks him on the ass with the rolled-up comic book.
"Bet you'd look damn good in a Wonder Woman costume."
"You want another one?" she asks as she raises the comic book.
He grabs it from her hand, whirls her around, and smacks her playfully on the ass before pulling her back against his chest. Nipping at her ear, he murmurs, "Bad girl."
Laughing, she squirms away.
"We got an hour," says Daryl, smirking lecherously. "'Fore I can take Henry to do that survey."
"We do have an hour," she replies. "This would be a good time to go down to the Council Chambers and record our marriage in the record book."
Daryl hrmphs. "That ain't half as fun as fuckin' ya bent over this counter."
"No, but it'll score you some points, which may pay off in the long run. Patience, Pookie." She kisses his cheek, slips the comic book from his hand, and throws it in the trash.
[*]
They're supposed to have two witnesses when recording anything in the marriage record book, and since Tara and Aaron are already in the Council Chambers pouring over the inventory in 3-ring binders, they get them to sign off on the entry.
"October 7th?" Aaron asks. "6 AT? Did I not get invited to the wedding?"
"We just picked a date around the time we moved in together," Carol explains. She smiles at Daryl. "But maybe we'll renew our vows in the chapel when it's our tenth wedding anniversary."
Daryl grunts.
"Oh, I wouldn't say no to that if I were you, Daryl," Tara says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "That means you get to renew the honeymoon, too."