AN: Leave a comment if you want this to be a multi-chapter! I will only do so if I gain enough comments. C: also, leave me your prompts in the ask box! I will take prompts from detailed to words to quotes- whatever your heart desires. I will post periodically in the Caryl tag.

Daryl had always been more of a dog person, but he wanted to know everything about her. When the days were bleak and the nights were quiet, he could find her laying on her stomach on the bed, kicking her feet in the nightgown Daryl had brought for her, flipping through a magazine and stroking the pictures of cats. He wanted to give her one more than he wished for a dog, because she was everything to him and he didn't always know how to say it loud and clear. She was all he needed. He didn't want a dog if all he could have was her.

"I want a little white one," she said one day when he had come home from a long day hunting and scavenging. She was smiling down at the magazine, her running her hands through her growing hair, humming cheerfully.

Daryl just grunted, flopping down onto the bed beside her face first before throwing his vest in the general direction of the wall.

"You know, Ed never let me have a cat," she continued, tolerating his unresponsiveness, used to his exhaustion after the day's work. Sometimes they would make love and sometimes he would pass out like a light, but not before at least cuddling her. She didn't mind so long as he was hers. She didn't realize this comment, or any mention of Ed, sent him sitting upright in a heartbeat, cracking his spine a little.

"I'll get you a cat then," he said almost immediately. He always tried to better himself from Ed, do everything her husband had always refused, give her all the freedoms she had been without before. He always tried to be the opposite of Ed, no matter how tired or how hurt or how hungry. She came first to him. At this point, with everything they had been through and every time they had been separated, he didn't care anymore whether or not someone saw them or someone heard them. They were a couple and though he wasn't big on publicity, if it happened, it happened, just like everything else. Whatever happened, happened.

"Where do you think you're going to find a cat now, Daryl?"

"I'll find a cat."

And that's how he got here. In a building on one of the runs, gripping his strap to his crossbow, staring down at the box. Damn, that woman had so much power over him. Without her, he had compiled jewelry and money for no reason, but with her around he was highlighting self-help books and scavenging Atlanta for kittens. He had told himself over and over, surely there had to be one place in fucking Atlanta that still had a cat if he had seen a dog.

How right he was, but at a cost.

The sight wrenched his heart just a little. He wouldn't lie about that. It had been a rough search and several runs to different places all over for supplies, but he had finally somehow stumbled upon what he was looking for. The bloodstains in the box told him the mother had protected the kittens but been dragged off by something; a raccoon or a walker, perhaps, but he wasn't sure if walkers even would care for animals. Maybe not since none of the wildlife seemed very affected. A human strain. If he was a scientist that might given him more of a theory. The only one moving with rapid breathing was an orange and white one. They weren't even out of nursing yet. The bloodstains were old, but the kittens were plump, helping them to last longer. He checked the others. One still had a pulse and he glanced around briefly, knowing everyone was still off looking around and the building was empty of walkers.

He sat down by the box and picked the two kittens up in his hands, which were much larger than the two combined. A softness came over his face and he held them close, scratching the faint kitten behind its ears, and he thought he heard it mewl just faintly as if for its mother and squirm its tiny paws before it went still. Daryl even felt his eyes water, actually having to fight off a few tears, looking down at them, kissing the dead kitten's forehead and hugging the tiny body before laying it back with its perished siblings, kissing his fingers and stroking each one a few times. He had to keep this one alive. Biting his lip, he tucked the baby kitten into his vest and finding some old blankets draping one over the box and lighting it on fire, the least he could do for them. Turning away, he stopped to check the kitten before tucking it back in his vest, confirming that surprisingly the kitten seemed healthy of something like mange.

He knew he would have to keep this quiet from the others, so he sneakily went into the pet aisle of one of the stores and swiped as much supplies as he could while still being discreet; cans of kitten formula, wet food for down the road, a cat toy, a collar with a tag but no bell, a bottle, and some newspaper from the front. He couldn't wait to get back to camp and show her, his beautiful Carol.

When he came in, she was folding their meager amount of laundry, leaning over and giving a view of her ass. Apparently finished working for the day. It had been relatively calm now that they had arrived at this camp. He smirked a little to himself but snapped out of it, realizing now was not the time. "Hello," he said calmly, making her squeak and jump, to which he couldn't help but smirk again, "You okay?"

Carol nodded, stepping toward him, but Daryl stopped her in her tracks, slowly bringing the kitten out from behind him. Her eyes went wide, looking from him to the kitten repeatedly in disbelief, and he turned away, walking to the bed to sit down. He dumped the bag on the floor and swiped a can of formula taking the bottle and carefully filling it. When Carol had recovered from her daze, she almost tripped over the supplies to come sit with him, her hand on his knee, leaning forward, watching in awe as he began to feed the little ball of fluff.

"Where did you find it?" she whispered, absently playing with a strand of his wild hair, staring at the kitten before looking up at him. "You really meant it..."

"Mhm," Daryl responded, shifting the kitten and offering it to her when it had finished eating. She accepted it, holding it up to examine it, making it mewl a little uncomfortably. Nuzzling the cat, she tucked it to her. "'s a boy."

Carol nodded, looking down at it, whispering, "It almost makes me miss having a baby." Daryl's expression softened but he stayed silent, scooting close to her, removing his vest. Carol giggled softly and tickled the kitten's little furry belly, making it squeal a little. "I want to name it... Hunter. Like my man over there, hm?" She scratched under its chin and it squeaked, smiling.

Daryl scoffed, kicking off his boots and laying back on the bed, grumbling a little bashfully, "You're welcome. Don't tell the others."

That's how he got here. The rain poured down outside and thunder rumbled. He had pulled Carol all the way onto his chest to ease her discomfort; she always seemed to squirm in her sleep when it stormed until he pulled her as close as he could. He started to doze off again when he heard a peculiar mewling and felt tiny pricks knead his chest. He opened his eyes a little, finding the kitten crawling toward his face though the eyes were still closed, whimpering. It tugged his heartstrings a little when the kitten fumbled a bit and he reached out his free hand, the other wrapped around Carol, to gently push it back on track. It mewed and crawled to his chin, moving its head around to sniff him.

To his surprise, the eyes opened slowly. They were bright blue, a brighter hue than his, and took several moments to focus and take in the surroundings before fixing on his face. With an insistent meow, looking a little terrified at another rumble of thunder that shook the small house, it buried itself against his neck and began kneading him, purring softly. He smiled a little to himself, raising his hand to slowly stroke it with a calloused finger, listening to the purrs slow as it fell asleep.

It took him a moment to cease petting the kitten, thinking to himself as he himself began to drift off again:

Consequences and traumas aside, maybe he wouldn't be so bad if he were a parent.

The kitten nuzzled his neck as he fell asleep, scooting closer, the soft fur pressed into his skin soothingly.

Everything was going to be alright.