Yes, yes. More fluff from me. I wish I could say I was sorry, but I just needed some. These last few episodes of the season just killed me. I just want to take Daryl and Andrea and stick them in their own little world where nothing can happen to them.

They're somewhere just outside the border of South Carolina now, camped along the stretch of highway where the RV had finally met its demise.

Andrea has taken to sharing Daryl's tent with him for good—after confiding to Dale about the two of them, Andrea had inadvertently spilled the beans about their relationship to the rest of the group when she'd kissed Daryl full on the mouth when he returned to camp after a hunt. With Maggie's decision to leave her family's farm with Glenn and Lori's crumbling marriage… well, crumbling, no one really paid them much heed. Rick had, warily, offered his congratulations and Glenn had grinned and clapped Daryl on the back but after that, it just wasn't mentioned again.

No one looked twice at either of them when they'd risen in unison and returned to his tent after dinner. If anyone had heard the muffled sounds of their lovemaking later on that night, no one let on or protested or shouted at them to keep it down. And if anyone happened to see them now, lying side by side beneath a blanket with only the tips of their fingers touching, Andrea hopes that no one would ruin the moment.

Daryl's breathing is steady and even beside her and though his eyes are closed, she knows he's not asleep. He's just relaxed—as quiet and calm as she's ever seen him. The sight makes her smile.

She turns onto her side and props herself up onto her elbow, using her right index finger to trace circles along the planes of his chest. She runs over the tattoo above his heart- "for my dad," he'd told her once- and then over the slight dips of his abdominal muscles and then over the trail of wispy dark hair that starts at his bellybutton and runs down to the edge of the blanket spread out across his hips.

"If I were you," he cuts in, voice gruff and thick, "I wouldn't be startin' something if you ain't willin' to finish."

Andrea looks up at him through her eyelashes and smiles cheekily. "Who said anything about not finishing?"

"That yawn you let out a couple of minutes ago seemed pretty convincing."

She relents with a sigh and lies back down beside him, prompting him to shift around so that they're lying face to face. He drapes an arm across her hip, flattening his palm out across her lower back, and she folds her hands up against his chest, resting her forehead against his own.

"Have you ever been in love, Daryl?" she asks, and she feels him tense, the lines of his body pulling taught beside her.

"I don't know," he says. "Why're you asking?"

Andrea hums and closes her eyes, momentarily letting herself get lost in the bit of conversation she'd overheard Glenn and Maggie having that afternoon. "Glenn says he loves her. Maggie."

When Daryl snorts, she frowns. "You don't think it's possible?"

"Never been much for the idea of love at first sight," he answers, though she notices that his grip on her tightens ever so slightly. "He doesn't know her. Not well enough."

Andrea hums again, splaying her fingers out over the spot on his chest where his heart beats. "So that's what in there," she says, tapping her fingers against his skin.

Daryl chuckles into her hair. "Woman, you don't know the half of what's in there."

"I'd like to," she responds. "One day."

He's the one who hums that time, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger. "What about you? You ever been in love?"

Andrea considers it for a moment before she nods. "Yeah, once. A long time ago."

"Is this the part where 'm supposed to get jealous?"

"Shut up," she grumbles, giving him a good natured thump on the chest. "I was so young, and my father hated him. Which is probably why I went after him."

Daryl grunts in response.

"He was the opposite of every other boy I grew up with," she continues, unsure if she's doing this to clear the air with Daryl or just to clear her own mind. "He was dirty and grimy and had this long ratty hair that was probably as long as mine." The corner of her mouth twitches. "He had a motorcycle."

"I'm startin' to sense a pattern here."

"Mm, that's what I was thinking."

Daryl grows quiet for a moment, his fingers stilled along the nape of her neck. "It's a stupid expression," he finally says. "If that's what you're fishin' for, I wouldn't hold my breath." He slides his hand around and gently nudges her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him. "It's… it's not enough. I don't... ah, I ain't never been very good at this."

Andrea smiles softly, pressing her lips to Daryl's to silence his struggle for words. "I wasn't fishing. But thank you."

"Yeah."

They settle into a comfortable silence, listening to the quiet sounds of the group outside of their tent. "No," Andrea says after a little while. "It's not enough."

"Nope," Daryl agrees, staring up at the sky through the mesh of the tent.

"We're damn good lovers, though."

Daryl lets out a low growl. "Woman, what'd I tell you about startin' things you can't finish?"

No, Andrea thinks as Daryl rolls over on top of her and kisses her in the way that makes heat rush all the way down to her toes.

Love just isn't enough, not for them and… whatever it is that they have between them. It's enough for people like Glenn and Maggie, people who are comfortable and easily settled. But they're too messy, she and Daryl. Too raw. They don't need labels or silly statements—they just feel, and that's enough.

Most definitely enough, Andrea thinks as Daryl runs a calloused hand over the back of her knee and hitches her leg up around his hip.

Most definitely.