Chapter 31: Ain't Romantic

"The gunshots will draw in more," Carol gasped as Daryl closed them into the dark garden shed. They'd killed all the walkers in the yard, but she could hear more close by and she'd had to fire her pistol more than once.

"If they can't see us, they'll just keep on going," Daryl said.

Something rattled and thumped, like he'd thrown something in front of the door, then a little flashlight came on. He wrapped his red rag over it to muffle the light so it wouldn't carry through the sheet metal walls of the shed.

He dropped his loaded crossbow to the ground and reached for her. "Ya hurt? Ya bit?" His urgent fingers pulled her collar away from her neck, swiped blood off her forehead.

"I'm not. I'm okay. They didn't get me." God there had been so many. It only sank in now. She'd fought—how many? That little family of three? No, five. Actually, six, because of the one who'd had Daryl pinned. Seven, with the one that had attacked her from behind and she'd shot over her shoulder. Plus the man Daryl shot off her and the first one, so nine. She could hear more moaning from somewhere nearby and prayed they stayed away from the house where the rest of the group was.

Daryl let out a guttural sound and his head fell to her chest, his hands gripping too tightly over her sharp hipbones.

"Hey," she murmured, still rattled but trying to soothe him. "Hey, we're okay."

His hands slid under her shirt, his thumbs sweeping like he needed to feel more of her skin at once, his forehead pressed almost painfully against her breastbone as he gulped air.

"I couldn't get to ya. Like m' dream." His shaking hands swept over her belly, onto her back, pulling her closer into his body with his wrists getting bound up in her clothes. She didn't ask what dream, because they all had that dream. All the damn time.

"Shh…" The sound she made was just a hum, but when he turned his face so his cheek lay against her chest, locking her against him, she knew he could hear it. She stroked her hands down the chilly leather of his vest, still damp from the grass.

Then his hands stopped, jerked like he'd realized they were beneath her shirt. He lifted his head. " 'M sorry. Didn't mean—"

She shook her head. "I get it."

She craved it, too. In the part of her that leaned closer to the fire, that made her lids fall closed when she tasted a fresh cup of coffee. There were some things that were just universal.

The zipper to her coat made a soft shhh sound as she pulled it down and dropped it to the floor.

"Don't. If we need to run—"

"I'll run without them. This is more important." She shucked the hunter-orange fleece vest she'd scavenged from the tractor store, and shed her henley. Then she caught Daryl's wide hands and pressed them to the skin of her waist. He inhaled and buried his head into the curve of her neck. His whiskers tickled against the kiss he left there.

His palms roamed her whole back, up her shoulders and down her arms. Around her waist and over her belly button. It was the boldest he'd ever been but it also wasn't like he was trying to seduce her. It was more like he was clutching the memory of having her whole against the day when she might no longer be so. She kissed his temple and loved him all the more desperately for caring.

When his hands bumped the band of her bra and stumbled to a stop, she caught them and pressed them higher, her back arching her nipples against his palms. He groaned a little, deep in his throat, and lifted his head to kiss her.

Everything narrowed to the cold of metal against her shoulder blades, the slick leather of his vest against her chest, his tongue clumsy and so desperate against hers. His belt buckle caught at the button of her pants and she reached without thinking, jerking his belt open. He grunted and his hips snapped forward. She hitched a thigh up around him, straining at the awkward angle but needing the friction of having him closer.

Metal crashed at their backs.

Carol flinched away from the wall and he swung her toward the inside of the shed. They both froze and listened to the walker pawing at the wall, moaning, then just grumbling as the grass rustled and it stumbled away, still searching for the source of the gunshots from earlier.

Carol tilted her head back, seeking his kiss again, but he pulled away and grabbed her shirt off the ground. "Shouldn't."

She lifted an eyebrow. "What, because there's a walker? I mean, don't hold your breath, Dixon."

She reached for him again. He let her pull him in close, but there was tension in every muscle now. She laid her head defeatedly against his chest, trying to will away the heat in her panties. God forgive her, at least the shed had a little privacy and for a second she'd hoped…

"Who knew?" She sighed. "Daryl Dixon needs more romance than a backyard shed. I'll do better next time, Pookie."

"Stop." He hugged her back, though. At least a little.

"I should have guessed, actually. You're the most romantic man I've ever known."

He scoffed out a breath, trying to push her away.

"You are!" She hung onto his back, not ready to give up the chance for at least a hug in privacy. Especially when the texture of him was all rough-scratchy wool and smooth leather against her bare torso. "What do you think romance is, anyway?"

" 'Nnoying the shit outta everybody, far as I can tell from Glenn and Maggie."

Carol snuck a hand under his shirt to give him a light pinch. "It's caring about knowing somebody enough to know what would make them happy. When I used to watch the Lifetime Channel after Ed went to sleep, I used to think it was candles, jewelry, stuff like that, but that's empty. We have candles every night these days and you can have all the jewelry you want since nobody much bothered to loot that."

She nuzzled her cheek against his vest.

"It's how you let me sleep with my hand on your crossbow. When you got me a knife that couldn't slip out of my hand." She pulled back just enough to tilt her head at him. His features were even more interesting in the sharp shadows of the shed. "I'm going to have to figure out how to be more romantic to you. Too bad I can't just order more crossbow bolts off ."

The corner of his mouth softened a little, like he wanted to laugh. "That'd be real nice," he admitted.

She let her hand sneak further under his shirt, stroking the warm skin of his side because she still wasn't sure if he was okay with her touching his back. "Seriously, though. What would be romantic for you?"

He made a dismissive sound. "Place to lay my head where I could sleep without one eye open." He tightened his arms around her. "With a roof, so your teeth'd stop chattering for once. That'd be pretty damn roman'ic, there. Maybe some good fences so we can get a minute alone without me worrying 'bout if the rest of the group got all bit up while we's gone."

She nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

He did snort a laugh at that. "An' a million bucks and new tires for the bike, huh?" He handed over her shirt. "Getting cold."

She scowled, snatching up the henley. "I wouldn't be, if somebody was keeping me warm."

"Gotta get that wood back, check on the group," Daryl said, but his voice was distracted.

She focused on untangling her clothes, but as she zipped her vest, she realized he was absolutely still, watching her. She looked up and in the dim, red-tinted glow of the flashlight, his eyes were fastened so intently on her that a little arrow of tension darted down through her. "What?"

He blinked, cleared his throat, and then planted his feet a little wider. "I wanted to— I want ya— Wanted to ask if ya—"

"Whatever you wanted," she said dryly, "it doesn't look like talking was on the menu."

He gave her a look. She gave it right back.

"Ain't good at this stuff," he muttered.

"Well, thank goodness." She crossed her arms. "Lord knows we don't need one more thing you're good at to make the rest of us look bad."

He snatched up his crossbow off the ground, checked the string, checked the bolt, slung it on his back. "Never mind."

She touched his arm and when he looked at her, she tilted her head. Not talking. Not pushing. Just giving him the time he needed to sort out his thoughts because Daryl was a man who needed miles of space in order to be himself.

"I want ya," he spat out.

Her eyes widened, and he blushed dark.

"Not like that. Want you to be with me. If ya want. Be m' girl."

"Yes." The word burst out of her, and then a smile melted across her face. "Yes, that's what I want. I thought you knew that. I wasn't waiting on you to ask. I…to me, we're already together. Always have been, in a way." Her thumb swept over his arm where she held onto him. "But it's nice to be asked."

She looked down at their feet, her toes turned slightly in and his bigger feet set wide like they were standing guard over hers.

"I didn't think I needed that," she said, almost shyly, "that I'd want that. I guess I did."

"Know it's a lot to ask. Like ya said. Askin' somebody to take you on for good. However y' are. Specially in this world. Specially me." He chewed on his lips. "I know I ain't no prize. But I think…"

She'd taken a breath to refute him but when he trailed off, she couldn't bear to interrupt whatever he'd worked so hard to say to her.

"I think I got better from knowin' ya. And half that time, I wasn't even tryin'. Just happened. I think if I'm tryin…" He stopped and bit his lip harder, straightened until he stood taller. "I won't make it hard on you, being with me. If you want to. I'll make it easy as I can make it."

She laid a hand on his chest, feeling how fast his heart was thumping even through his jacket. "Didn't realize your talents included making romantic speeches…" she murmured.

His face closed up, started to darken.

"Not joking," she broke in quickly. "It's romantic because I can tell you mean what you say. It…makes a difference."

A gunshot cracked in the distance and Daryl looked up. "Sheriff's coming," he muttered. More shots rang out. Spaced, like whoever it was still had plenty of time to aim.

Carol cupped his cheek, drawing his face back down to hers and kissing him slowly, sweetly. She wanted to remember this moment.

"Who would have thought?" she mused when she pulled back, drinking in the haziness of his blue eyes. "That I'd save you from a walker, or that you'd talk about your feelings."

He scowled. "Ain't talkin' 'bout feelings. Ya said a girl liked to be asked, that's all. So I asked."

"And I answered." Her fingers tightened on the back of his neck and she locked eyes with him for one more second, even though the gunshots were drawing closer and they needed to go. "Remember that. You gave me a choice, Daryl Dixon, and I chose you."

Author's Note: BTW, I am STILL swooning over 7x10. What a great episode. I've never wanted a big screen TV before (I watch on my 13 inch laptop) but that episode made me really want a bigger screen so I could properly appreciate the facial nuances of NR and MMB's incredible acting.

This chapter (of the shed not being "romantic enough" for Daryl because what's romantic to him is safety) and the next chapter (at the prison) are the scenes that I wrote this whole fic for. I hope you enjoy them.