Daryl woke early to hunt. It was a very good day – a small doe crossed his path early on, so there would be meat for a couple of days. A few squirrels found a quick death at the end of a crossbow bolt, and there were two rabbits caught up in his snares as well. Pleased, he hauled his kills home.

Home. They'd only been at the prison a few days, but it already had started to feel like home. Daryl snorted to himself. His idea of home was probably a far cry from that of anyone else in the group. But it was a place to go at the end of the day, and a place to sleep, so that made it as much a home as anything else he'd ever had. If he were honest with himself, he'd have to admit the people there probably had something to do with it, too.

When he arrived at the prison, Maggie and Glenn eagerly offered to clean his kills, so he handed them over. They were probably just desperate to escape walker-burning duty for a while, but Daryl didn't care. As he continued up toward the cell blocks, he heard the two of them murmuring to each other and giggling. He rolled his eyes. More than half a year together and they still carried on like lovestruck teenagers.

On his way through the courtyard, he lifted his chin in greeting to Rick, Carl, and T-Dog who were loading bodies onto the pickup. They nodded back. As he went up the steps to the cell block, he heard Carl say something and T-Dog burst out laughing. Daryl frowned. Everybody seemed awfully damn chipper today.

He was nearly to the common room when Rick caught up to him.

"Daryl, wait up!" Like the others, Rick seemed to be in a pretty good mood. There was even something resembling a grin on his face – the first smile he'd seen there in a very long time. Daryl peered at him suspiciously. Something was definitely going on.

"We're still finishing up the burn outside, but Carol was looking for someone to go with her down to the infirmary to look for more supplies for Hershel. Carl's been down there once. There were a few walkers then, so there might be more. I wouldn't let her go alone." Rick paused then and fought to keep a straight face before continuing.

"So there's...something you should know. Don't kill the messenger." He held up his hands defensively.

Suspicion confirmed. "And what's that?"

"You might want to change clothes before you do anything else." Rick's eyes were bright with amusement.

Daryl scowled. "What for? The hell is everybody laughin' at? Spit it out already!"

Rick edged back out of reach before answering. "You have a hand print on the seat of your pants."

"What, like mud? Blood? What's the big deal? Shit, we're always covered in somethin'."

"Trust me on this," Rick said as he retreated back outside. "It's not your hand print."

Daryl glared after him. "Not my-" He twisted around then, trying to see what was there, but it was no use. He snarled in frustration and stalked to the cell block.

Lori greeted him as he came in, but he stormed past her and the others without responding. He snatched up his other pair of pants from the perch and went in to one of the unoccupied cells on the upper level. He tossed his crossbow onto the bunk. Kicking off his boots as quickly as he could, he stripped off his pants.

Goddamn.

He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. He was going to kill her.

Tossing the now-forever-unwearable pants to the floor, he dressed in the clean ones, sitting on the bunk and taking his time putting on his boots. That woman was a menace. He thought of yesterday when she'd swatted his ass and couldn't help but smile a little. Troublemaker, that one.

On his way back down the stairs, he saw Lori and Beth sitting in Hershel's cell. Carol was with them, but instead of chatting with the others, she was watching him with twinkling eyes and her lips carefully pursed. He glared at her the whole way down. Fat lot of good it did.

"Rick said you need to go to the infirmary."

Carol nodded without a word, but her lips quivered in her effort to keep from laughing.

"Let's go then. Ain't got all day!"

They picked up a couple of empty packs and double checked their weapons. They moved quietly and carefully through the hallways by the light of Daryl's flashlight. Carl had killed two walkers down here a few days ago, and the area hadn't yet been confirmed sealed off, so there was always the threat of more.

They made it to the infirmary without any sign of trouble. There was enough light from the windows that they didn't need the flashlight. Carol began digging through cabinets and boxes, stuffing their packs full of supplies that Carl hadn't cleared out already. She was smiling as she worked.

"Lookin' mighty pleased with yourself," he groused.

"Yup." She smiled brightly up at him.

"You know, if you're lookin' to mark your territory, you could just-"

"Walker!" Carol's eyes were wide, focused behind him as she jumped up, scrambling for her knife.

Daryl spun and loosed a bolt into the creature's eye socket. Another stood in the doorway behind it. Shit! He should have been paying better attention. "We need to get out of here."

He pulled his knife and took out the second walker, but more were behind it, coming down the hall growling and reaching. There were too many!

"We need another way out!" Daryl looked around quickly. There was a door behind them to their right. "There!"

He smashed a third one in the face with the stock of his bow. At least seven more were pushing into the room.

Behind him, Carol flung open the door. Daryl pushed her through.

"Daryl, w-"

"Go!" He knifed a walker that was scrabbling at his vest, then kicked away another as he pulled the door shut behind him just in time. The walkers slammed against it, clawing and grasping. With the door closed, they were in total darkness, and he could feel Carol pressed up against his back. Both of them were breathing hard with the adrenaline.

"Um, Daryl? This isn't a hallway."

He flicked on his flashlight and blinked. It was a tiny linen closet. Shelves full of sheets, blankets, and towels were on three sides. There was barely enough space for both of them to stand.

"Shit."

Somebody would lose an eye if he tried maneuvering in here with his bow in hand. Placing his light on one of the shelves, he slithered out of his crossbow and quiver, resting them carefully on a pile of towels on the top shelf. He carefully turned around, avoiding her toes. Carol's eyes were dark in the dim light.

"So now what?" she asked.

"Gonna have to wait 'em out, I guess. There's too many for us to take out on our own. Or wait until someone notices we ain't back yet and comes for us."

She frowned. "So we're stuck in here. We can't get out."

"Looks like."

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the snarling and thumping of the walkers who were showing no signs of leaving any time soon. Daryl shifted awkwardly, not sure where to put his hands.

"They know where we went, though , right?" she asked. "They'll come after us, won't they? How long do you think it'll take?" Her voice was higher than usual and oddly shrill despite being muffled by the bedding all around them.

He heard the note of panic, and his stomach dropped when he remembered she was claustrophobic.

"It'll be okay. They know where we are, and someone will come for us soon."

"I need to get out of here! Right now!" She pushed at him, trying to get to the doorknob. Her breath was coming fast and heavy now, and her eyes were wide and unfocused, darting around the tight confines of the space. He put his hands on either side of her face, and she grabbed his wrists hard.

"Look at me. Come on, look at me."

She was gasping now. "Can't breathe!"

He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "You're okay. We're okay. Just look at me. Look at me, darlin'. That's it. Now breathe with me, okay? You're hyperventilating. Nice and slow. In...and out. And in...and out. Breathe through your nose, nice and slow."

Her eyes were huge and locked on his. She struggled to follow his instructions, and slowly, gradually, her breathing settled down. He kept stroking her cheeks and speaking soothing nonsense to calm her.

"There you go. I'm with you. We're okay. I'm here. I gotcha. You all right now?"

The death grip she had on his wrists gradually loosened, so he moved his hands from her cheeks down to her shoulders, but kept stroking her skin with his thumbs soothingly.

"You okay?" he repeated.

She nodded, but still looked pale in the strange shadows from the flashlight. He drew her in close to his chest. That was all the invitation she needed to throw her arms around his middle and cling to him, shaking hard. He wrapped her in his arms and rested his cheek on her silver head. He was surprised how good it felt to hold her. It felt natural.

He talked to her to keep her distracted, telling stories of when he and Merle were kids and the crazy shit they got up to back then. He talked about them shooting their BB guns into a wild beehive just to piss off the bees. He talked about gathering up dud fireworks around the neighborhood after the Fourth of July to salvage the black powder to make his own firecrackers. He talked about Merle daring him to walk across the frozen pond in the winter. He talked about Merle getting him drunk for the first time, and how he threw up all over himself and passed out in the street.

Hearing it out loud, he realized it was a bit amazing he had lived to adulthood.

This was probably more talking than he'd ever done in his whole life all put together, but she had stopped shaking, so he didn't stop until he couldn't think of anything more to say. After a few moments, she stirred in his arms to look up at him.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"'S'alright. You can't help being claustrophobic, I know."

"No, I'm sorry about your pants. I know they were your favorite ones."

He sighed. "I'll live."

She rested her head against his chest again, and they listened to the scrabbling walkers. It sounded like there might be fewer of them outside the door, but they still seemed determined to claw their way in. Daryl didn't mind so much. The longer they were stuck in here, the longer he got to hold Carol in his arms. He rested his cheek against her hair again and breathed her in. They were all used to smelling a bit sharp in these days of infrequent bathing, but she just smelled good to him – warm and spicy and feminine. He rubbed his fingers on her back, and she hummed out a sigh and snuggled up even closer.

Oh no. Oh, fuck no! He'd gotten too comfortable, paid too much attention to how good she felt. He tried to pull away, but it was too late. She'd already felt his erection.

She gasped out a little, "Oh!" and tensed up, blushing furiously and looking anywhere but at him.

Shitballs, he might as well throw himself to the walkers.

Suddenly, the little closet flooded with light. He couldn't see anything, but didn't hear walkers, only a loud whoop. They jerked back from each other, putting their hands to their eyes against the glare.

"Ooooooh, look at you two! Taking time out for a little seven minutes in heaven? Ha HA!"

Daryl squinted and blinked into the light until the shape in front of him became T-Dog. There were several dead walkers in the room around him. He hadn't even heard T-Dog kill them.

"You guys were gone forever, so Lori sent me lookin'. Guess I should have stayed back and took a nap instead. HA! Now we know how you got that hand print, am I right?"

Daryl skewered T with his best murder face. "It ain't what it looked like! And you don't need to be flappin' yer gums about it neither!"

T-Dog wiped his knife on the shirt of a downed walker. "Sure, man, sure!" He zipped his lips and threw away the key. "Ain't nobody gonna hear it from me! I'ma take your little secret to the grave!"

T picked up the full bag of supplies and headed out the door, laughing all the way.

Carol's cheeks were bright pink as she slipped across the room to finish packing medical supplies into the other bag, while Daryl softly banged his head against the door frame. It was his own stupid fault they got stuck in that closet in the first place. All his fault he'd embarrassed himself poppin' a boner in there. He squashed the urge to run as far away as possible – he needed to make sure Carol got back to the cell block safely. Then he could go crawl off and die of humiliation somewhere.

She hefted the bag to her shoulder and glanced toward the little closet. Then, eyes on the floor, she started to head back to the cells. She paused next to him and reached a hand toward his. She grasped just his fingers with her own and squeezed.

"Thank you." Her gaze flicked to his face for just a moment. "For everything." Then she dropped his hand and walked out the door. He wasn't sure, but he thought she was smiling as she left. Huh.