Chapter 5: First Thing That Pops Up

The deeper into winter they got, the more Carol forgot what it felt like to be warm. It seemed like her body had always been stiff, muscles aching with fatigue even when they weren't wracked with shivers. Her skin prickling or burning before it went numb.

She had two blankets now, scavenged from the last house, and even that wasn't enough. She laid on her side and balled her knees to her chest, staring out at the blackness beyond the truck she slept under. It was so dark she couldn't tell if her eyes were closed or open, but her ears could discern the slap of sleet against the ground. Moisture clung to her face from where her breath billowed out, creating invisible clouds.

If walkers attacked tonight, she wouldn't even be able to see where to stab.

She touched the flashlight by her backpack-pillow. The freezing steel of her knife next to it. All their batteries were near-dead, but if she needed it, the light would be better than nothing. She hoped it would be enough. Her ragged fingernails clicked across the knife as another round of shivers wracked her.

Something touched her blankets, and she jerked, rolling to see the threat.

"Can't sleep with your damn teeth chattering away so loud," Daryl grumbled, tucking his quilt over the top of hers. "I'll go walk around for a bit."

She caught his wrist, her hand so numb she couldn't quite latch on. "It's sleeting like crazy. You'll never dry out again if you go out there."

" 'Nother hour, it'll get cold enough to turn to snow," he said. "Snow don't get you as wet."

"You can't see, but I'm glaring at you," she whispered.

He just grunted.

"Take your blanket back," she hissed, skinning her knuckles on the truck's undercarriage as she tried to toss it back over him.

"Quit."

She grabbed him when he tried to scoot away, holding the blanket over the top of him.

He made a sound through his teeth. "Stubborn woman."

"Share them with me," she said. "Come on, three blankets is better than two." She fussed for a minute, laying one out beneath them and two over the top. As soon as he was inside her blanket, she could feel the heat of him radiating, but Daryl himself lay stiff as a chunk of wrecked car, his arms clapped to his sides. She poked him in one arm. "Quit being shy," she ordered. "We can't afford modesty these days. Come on, I promise I won't cop a feel."

She couldn't see his expression change, but she knew it did.

Once, she would have said it felt blasphemous, the pride she got from teasing a smile out of him. She hauled his backpack over next to hers and curled onto her side facing him, tucking the blankets in at her back so no drafts would get in. His heat warmed the blankets, but the farther away it got from him, the colder it was.

He didn't move.

Carol tried to relax, listening to his breathing to decide if he'd gone back to sleep. He hadn't. After a while, she risked inching a little closer to his side, a shiver taking her as soon as she moved.

He exhaled. "Sum bitch." He grabbed her and muscled her around so she was laying on her other side.

She frowned at his roughness, wiggling a little. "What are you doing?"

His big arm went around her chest, his wrist half-squishing one breast as he clamped her back into his chest.

"Warmer like this," he muttered. His hand fussed at something on his chest, tickling her back, and then the sides of his jacket peeled open and she was right against the buttons of his shirt.

Heat.

She sighed, melting into it. As soon as she relaxed, her bottom curved into his crotch and they both jerked apart.

"Quit bein' so shy," he spat out, with heavy sarcasm.

"That was before you copped a feel," she retorted.

"You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

"Actually I'm not, but if I wiggle a little more, you might be a pain in mine."

His long-suffering sigh riffled the hair on the back of her neck. "Would you shut up and go to sleep?"

She laughed, her chest shaking under his arm. "And miss my one joy in this frostbitten graveyard of a world?"

He kicked a little, wrapping the blanket more securely over her feet. "Fuck, it's cold. Was it this cold last winter?"

"So now you want to talk about the weather? I was going to just talk about the first thing that popped up."

She wasn't entirely joking, because despite the bitter temperature, she could already feel the thickening ridge of him beneath his pants. She knew if he got embarrassed enough about it he'd take off into the sleet and get himself a good, stubborn case of hypothermia.

It wasn't his fault. Or even hers, probably. Nobody but Glenn and Maggie had gotten laid in months, and a man in times like this would probably get hard spooning with a tractor tire.

" 'Nother damn joke and I'll let ya freeze."

"If that's like a last meal, I better make it a good one. Let me think on it." She re-settled his arm over her side, but when his hand brushed the bottom of one breast, he stiffened all over again. "Quit. I'm not going to make you buy me flowers." She reached back and patted his thigh, pulling it forward so his legs matched the curve of hers. Their heat blended softly all the way down their bodies now. She sighed. "Better, right?"

He didn't move.

"It's just me, Daryl," she whispered. "Stop. I'm serious." She slipped one hand into the cuff of his coat and he jumped when he felt the chill of her fingers. "See? It's winter. We're cold. It doesn't have to be awkward if you don't read more into it than that."

"Y'alright?" he whispered. "Really? We can get up, start the heater in one of the trucks. We ain't got much gas but we could take the bike tomorrow, try to find somewhere to siphon from. If you frostbite somethin', there ain't no getting it back and you won't be able to run iffn you need to."

"I'm okay. Cold, but not dangerously so. I can still feel my feet."

"Keep wagglin' your toes," he ordered. "Don't go to sleep till they're warm."

"Yes, Drill Sergeant Dixon."

He took her hand and drew it up and back, burrowing it under the collar of his coat and shirt. His neck was so warm she caught her breath. His pulse thumped quickly underneath her palm.

He held it there, warming her hand while she struggled to remember how operate her lungs.

Don't read too much into this, she warned herself.

They were in this mess together, her and Daryl. That's all. Anything more than that would send him hightailing into the night. Besides, she didn't even know if she wanted all that again.

Men, with their jealousies and demands, and her always trying to read the real meanings behind what they said. Trying to make them happy. The idea exhausted her, and making it through this winter was already taking everything she had.

The stirring of hormones would just have to be ignored. No matter how good it felt to have a wide set of shoulders behind hers. No matter how much she wanted to rock her bottom back a little more firmly into the bend of his hips.

He moved her hand to the other side of his neck, warming the back now. "You get too cold any night, wake me up. Don't try to gut it out. If you cain't run, you won't make it out here."

"I can handle it."

He blew a short, disgusted sound. "You're plenty stubborn, Carol. But you's little and you ain't getting much food. You can't make any more heat than you make. Carl neither. Or Hershel. We need to find more blankets. Better clothes. A damn roof where the walkers don't all pile in after a night or two."

"Stop worrying," she said, her eyes drifting closed as the heat lulled her exhausted muscles down toward sleep. "We're okay tonight, Daryl. I'm okay." She patted his neck and took her warmed hand back. "Thank you."

He grunted in response, searching for her other, still frozen hand. When he found it, he shoved up her shirt and stuffed both their hands under the waistband of her pants. "Keep your hand in there when you sleep, or 'tween your knees. Fingers frostbite easy. Keeps 'em warmer."

"I'm not saying a single thing," she said dryly as he removed his hand from her pants, leaving hers in there.

"Good."

"Not one thing."

"Stop."

"Daryl?"

He made a questioning sound, the breath of it tickling the back of her neck.

"Goodnight," she whispered, using her warmed hand to pat his thigh and trying not to think about how good the firm muscles felt.

"'Night," he grunted. He didn't shift back, and she held herself very still so she wouldn't wriggle any closer. There was plenty of warmth beneath their blankets now, but it was a long time before either of them slept.

Author's Note: Next up, The Velveteen Rabbit and the Shooting Gallery.

I've got a new one-shot up from the Alexandria era, for fans of that time period & very different Caryl dynamic. It's called "Bad Cop" and it's Daryl trying to talk Carol into being his recruiting partner. But she's got conditions.