Author's Note: So yeah, last chapter was one gigantic ball of fluff wasn't it? I'm sure I declared during chapter 1 that I was going to try to steer away from that. Oops. Thank you for the reviews, I see you like the fluffy stuff anyway.
TWDTWDWD
She spent another long, boring day in her room. Hershel insisted, telling her she needed the rest after such blood loss. The highlight was getting her bandages changed before lunch, where Daryl sat smugly in the corner with his arms folded, looking at her pointedly when Hershel shot down her protests that she wanted to go downstairs, even just to sit at the kitchen table and help the other women prepare the meals for the day. Daryl hadn't even answered her when she'd asked him to help her down the stairs, just glancing at her in disbelief, before picking up her book from the floor where she'd left it the night before.
He stayed with her till after lunch, when Lori came up with plates of sandwiches and glasses of cordial and she addressed Daryl properly for the first time since their argument a few weeks ago.
"Rick's asking if you'll help with chopping wood." She said, handing him his plate.
Daryl glanced at Carol, who was picking at the edge of her sandwich delicately, one eyebrow raised.
"I'll keep Carol company." She added, spotting his concerned glance.
He nodded and picked up his plate to take downstairs. "She'll try and get you to let her get up. She's sneaky about it, but ignore her." He told Lori, ignoring Carol's sigh of frustration and heading downstairs.
"How you feeling today Carol?" Lori asked conversationally, taking Daryl's spot at the edge of the bed.
"I'm bored out of my mind here. I'm fine, really. I know I can't go hunting until the cut heals, but is it really too much to ask to just go sit downstairs?" Carol looked at Lori beeseechingly.
"Honey, you know you've gotta rest up. And to be quite honest with you, if I let you out of here, I'm pretty sure Daryl will kill me and I ain't ready to die that way." Lori chuckled and Carol couldn't help but smile in agreement. It was true. She was amazed that he even left the room. She urged him to go hunting that morning, but he refused, telling her they could give him a day off once in awhile.
"He'll get bored of hanging around up here by tomorrow." Carol told her, popping a bit of sandwich in her mouth.
"I doubt." Lori clacked her tongue. "I'd say he's pretty smitten with you."
"Smitten? I wouldn't quite put it like that, Lori." Carol tried to hide her smile, she didn't know if that was quite the word she would choose, but it was something like that.
"Don't you act all coy with me, Carol Peletier. I know that when I volunteered to come up and stay with you last night, the man damn near bit my head off. I know that he insisted on taking you out on every trip into town, made Rick promise before he'd let you go on the roster. He's always got his eye on you, haven't you even noticed?" Lori snatched a handful of raisins from the bowl on Carol's tray.
"I think your eyes are betraying you a little bit on that last one."
"They are not. You walk out of a room, so does he. He watches you like a hawk. You go to the bathroom and he asks you where you're going. He never goes to bed until he knows you have."
Carol raised an eyebrow as Lori reeled off her list. She didn't even notice half the things Lori mentioned. She and Daryl spent so much time together, everything became second nature. Sure, they worked in harmony together, he'd pass her things she couldn't reach without her asking or would bring her a drink before she even knew she was thirsty, but wasn't that to be expected? They all knew each other's little mannerisms and quirks. That was normal, there was only ten of them. She and Daryl, they just knew each other that little bit better.
"It's not like that." She said delicately, indicating the matter dealt with. If she couldn't put a label on it, how could she expect to explain it to Lori?
TWDTWDTWD
He stayed with her again that evening. She spent the afternoon with Lori, Beth and Maggie. The latter two initially came up to sneek a peek through Carol's slanted skylight windows. They'd heard that Daryl and T-Dog were giving Glenn a lesson on how to correctly chop wood and it wasn't going too well. They giggled out of the window, watching the argument they could see happening, although they weren't close enough to hear all the words. Eventually Rick noticed them, shooting them what Beth called a "death stare" and they came in and shut the window, joining Lori and Carol on the bed.
Daryl came up only once, mid afternoon, bearing more pills for her to take. He'd intended to sit with her again, but all four women in one small room was more intimidating than he liked to admit, so he figured he'd wait until they left to make dinner.
Carl wanted to be the one to sit with her for dinner and he found himself missing her presence. Aside from sleeping, he hardly ever spent so much time apart from her. She was his compass, where she went, so did he and after finishing the wood chopping, he was directionless.
Still, he managed to offload the kid after dinner and Carol yawned as the young boy closed the door.
"Been doin' too much yappin', woman." He warned her.
"Oh hush up." She murmured back to him, but she felt the tiredness now. Sitting around doing nothing was worse than being busy, she thought. Her leg had began to ache something chronic now, she was ready for the next lot of painkillers, but she resisted pressing her hand to the bandage, lest Daryl see her do it. "I'm going to the bathroom." She knew he wouldn't let her get up so she made no motion to move, waiting for him to scoop her up.
She was quick in the bathroom. She heard him rush down the stairs and back up to her attic room before she even had time to brush her teeth. By the time she was drying her hands, he was knocking on the door, ready to take her up.
He didn't even justify as to why he was staying in her room that night and she didn't ask. She didn't care why he wanted to stay, she was just glad he did.
Daryl took the duvet down that morning and he didn't bring it back up again. He had his excuse ready, that he didn't trust her not to get up and about the minute she was alone - but she didn't ask, so he didn't tell.
She took the pills willingly enough and settled into bed straight away. He picked up the book he'd left on the bedside cabinet that morning as she murmured her goodnights to him. He carried on reading for an hour, but he couldn't help but steal glances at her. She wasn't asleep right away, her eyes flickering every so often, her hand reaching up to scratch an unseen itch behind her ear or in her hair. It was getting longer now, curling over her ears, the back almost touching her collar.
Eventually he gave up on concentrating on the page in front of him and kicked his boots off to get into the bed. She stirred slightly, feeling his movement and watched him as he peeled the covers back to join her. He stared at her, as if daring her to protest, but she said nothing.
He would never admit it, but sleeping in the same bed as Carol was good. He'd never shared a bed with a women before. Sure, he'd slept around a bit, especially when he did drugs with Merle, but he never, ever brought them home and he never stayed the night. When he kicked the drug habit at age 30, he kicked the women from his life too. Maybe it was the fact that they were hidden up in the attic, well away from any potential Walkers, but with her, it felt safe.
He'd woken up that morning with his whole body tangled around her, but he couldn't recall how they had come to be that way. It was good though. He'd do it again. If she let him.
He settled himself down in the bed and she pushed herself back towards his chest. She was letting him. He met her halfway across the bed, pulling her to him and she pushed her leg between his calves, sandwiching her leg with his. He wrapped his arm round her and she rested her hand over the top of his.
"You're going hunting tomorrow." She told him, face in her pillow.
"Yeah, yeah." He pushed his head into her neck and gripped her tighter. "We'll see."
TWDTWDTWD
It was light when she woke and she felt Daryl stir when she did. They'd shifted in their sleep again, this time Daryl was lower down the bed than she, using her stomach for a pillow, her feet were trapped between his knees. Her nightdress had ridden up, exposing her bandaged thigh and she wiggled herself to pull the material back down. It was hard to believe that he was even more fidgety in his sleep than he was when awake.
"You are going hunting today, Daryl Dixon." She told him firmly, once she felt his fingers flex against her hip.
He only grunted at her, not ready to get up.
"You are." She reiterated, but she didn't stop him from pressing himself closer.
Carol had convinced him that she was going back to sleep when he left. The reality was, that as soon as she was sure he'd left the house, she hobbled out of the bed, limping her way to the chest of drawers. She was eager to change into some real clothes.
She was dismayed, however,to find that her trousers were not going to slide over her thighs easily, the bulk of the bandage made it impossible. She threw them aside, rooting through the drawers to find the only other thing she knew would fit; the red dress that she'd hidden away. She saw the corner of it and made to tug it out but her hand skimmed over something else, the frayed edges of one of Daryl's shirts, the one he'd lent her a few weeks previous. His pants were folded underneath. She decided to save the dress for another occasion.
She managed to pull the clothes on, finding a belt to hold the pants up. It took her nearly fifteen minutes to make it down to the kitchen, but she was pleased to have made it without falling over, or anyone disturbing her. Her leg definitely hurt less today, the sharp pain reduced to a dull throb. She was surprised to see Rick in the kitchen and he jumped when he spotted her in the doorway.
"How did you get down here?" He asked, searching through the cupboards.
"Same way as everyone else." She retorted, making her way to him at the counter. "What are you looking for?"
"Lori's sick again, she mentioned a tea that helped but I can only see that chai stuff she hates."
"Out of the way, then. I'll do it." She reached for the cupboard to her right, pulling out the dried ginger. She'd made this for Lori after her first trip to the grocery store. The ginger steeped in hot water helped soothe the expecting woman's stomach somewhat.
She handed him the mug with a smile. "If Daryl asks, you carried me downstairs." She waggled her finger at him as he nodded and headed back upstairs.
TWDTWDTWD
Daryl could hear her laughter when he walked up the porch steps, string of squirrels in hand. He couldn't decide whether or not he was angry with her. He understood her frustration with being locked up in the attic and like he was, she was not good without something to do. But he wished she'd understand that he only wanted her to heal. He wasn't trying to be cruel.
She sat at the table, wearing an apron, kneading dough like it was going out of fashion, she was elbow deep in flour, a smudge of the stuff on her cheek. Carl had just raced out the door as he walked in.
"Hey." She greeted softly. "You've been busy." She nodded at the string of carcasses in his hand.
"On your own?" He asked, hanging the spoils on the back of the door.
"Lori's popped to the bathroom. Morning sickness." She grimaced, not stopping her motions with the bread. "Will you pass me that tray please?" She nodded over to the counter top by the sink. He washed his hands first, before doing as she asked. She began tearing up the dough, shaping them into rolls.
"How you feelin'?" He asked, pulling up a chair beside her.
"Just fine." She looked at him and he gazed at her, not sure of her answer. "Daryl, I'm fine. I've had my antibiotics, Hershel changed my dressing an hour ago. No, my leg isn't perfect, but it will be soon. Stop worrying."
He let out a sigh, apprantly content with this answer for now. He watched her work at shaping the rolls, noticing what she was wearing. He'd forgotten about those clothes. The shirt was his rusty pinstripe, the one he'd worn when the abandoned the Greene farm. It was threadbare in places, the edges frayed from where he'd ripped the sleeves off, a time so long ago, he couldn't remember when. It suited her, he thought.
Carol tried not to feel self conscious as he watched her work the dough. Lori's words were still ringing in her ears and she was aware of his every move now. She made to get up to push the tray into the oven, but he stopped her, taking it from her. She gave him a warning glance and continued to rise up, doing her best not to look like she was limping. "I'm fine." She pressed.
He had to fold his arms in an effort to stop himself from helping her. He was total pussy. He couldn't believe that woman made him behave like this. Merle would be laughing his ass of if he knew, then he'd give him a swift punch in the gut for being so stupid. He used to laugh at Rick and Glenn and now he was exactly the same. No, he was worse. At least their behaviour wasn't so far removed from their personalities.
He was a goner.
TWDTWDTWD
Author's note: Omg, somebody punch me in the face. For realz. It's like I am spewing rainbow fluff everytime I type. I PROMISE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE LESS SOFT AROUND THE EDGES.