AN: Wow! I can't believe it. We've made it to fifty chapters and there's still oh so much to go in this story. I hope y'all aren't getting too bored with it!
I'll probably have some more updates here. It's my last weekend before work madness blows up and I'm spending it mostly working on this fic. I know, I know…I'm neglecting the rest, but I can't help it. I'm in the mood to write this one right now.
I hope you enjoy. As always I appreciate all your reviews and comments! Thanks for sticking it out with me this long and I hope you enjoy what's still to come!
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"I'm just saying that we should consider it. If we tell the landlord now then we can make sure that no one else gets it," Andrea said.
She was standing in the kitchen wrestling out of the clothes that literally would never come clean from the stench of Korean food. If she'd ever liked eating at the Hanging Gardens before she started working there, she was more than positive that it had been ruined forever. Something about the smell of the food got into her hair, her clothes, and even her pores. She was pretty sure that her sweat smelled like bulgogi and it wasn't just her imagination.
"Why tha fuck ya wanta move?" Merle growled. He was sitting at the card table in the kitchen clipping his toenails and she felt her stomach churn a little.
"Jesus, Merle," she said. "Why can't you do that shit in the bathroom or in the fucking bedroom? It makes me want to vomit."
"What's yer fuckin' problem now?" He asked.
She shimmied out of her pants and stepped out of them. She waved at him, more than a little frustrated.
"That! You're clipping your damn toenails in the kitchen. That's disgusting," Andrea said. "We fucking eat in here!"
"You're a fine one ta talk, paradin' ya naked ass around," Merle growled.
"My naked ass is getting in the shower," Andrea declared, gathering up her clothes. "You leave your disgusting toenails all over the damn place though and nobody wants that shit around when they're trying to eat. Not to mention I'm the one that has to sweep that shit up because apparently brooms don't exist on your planet."
Merle chuckled a little.
"Ya smell like fuckin' garlic or some shit. Go take a shower an' leave me the fuck alone," he said. "An' I don't see why tha hell ya think we oughta move."
"I'm not talking about going to fucking Jupiter, Merle, I'm talking about going across the damn hall. It doesn't even constitute much of a move if I could do it alone while you're at work. Carol's apartment is clean and a hell of a lot nicer than ours. If she's moving out then it just makes fucking sense that we take the nicer apartment instead of getting some shitty neighbors that move in there without doing their time in one of the really fancy apartments this place has to offer."
"Tryin' ta upgrade?" Merle called.
Andrea made her way into the bedroom, flinging her dirty clothes at the pile of laundry that she'd have to load up to wash tomorrow at the laundry mat if she wanted to have something to wear to work.
"Oh yes!" She called back, heading into the bathroom and turning on the water so that it wouldn't freeze her nipples off when she finally got in. "I want to upgrade so damn bad, Merle. Going across the hall is damn near finding a mansion for sale."
She rolled her eyes in the mirror and smeared toothpaste on her toothbrush, working to get the taste out of her mouth. She hadn't eaten anything at work…in fact she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast…but still she felt like the smell from the restaurant even attacked her taste buds.
"Can't be fuckin' satisfied fer shit, can ya?" Merle called.
Andrea rinsed her toothbrush and swished water around her mouth, groaning to herself about Merle and his almost completely nonexistent standard of living.
"Merle, you're being an ass," she called. She pulled back the shower curtain and climbed in, immediately diving under the lukewarm water.
"I ain't tha damn princess 'round her bitchin' 'cause the place ain't good enough fer her. What'cha gon' be wantin' next?" Merle asked, charging into the bathroom.
"All kinds of shit," Andrea responded back. "I was thinking once we got us a real fucking fancy place to live we might go all out. Do things like stop clipping our damn cruddy ass toenails at the fancy eating table."
Merle ripped back the shower curtain a minute later and wrestled himself into the tub with her as though the shower were really built for two. Andrea ignored him, not opening her eyes as she fumbled around in search of the shampoo bottle.
Merle grabbed her under the chin and brought his lips to hers and she halfheartedly returned the kiss while filling her hand with shampoo behind his back. She was more than skilled at showering while Merle made attempts to distract her. She had news for him, though, she wasn't being distracted until he at least got his head out of his ass long enough to see that taking Carol's apartment when she left it was the only smart thing that they could do.
"Her extra bedroom's still got the diseased mattresses this building's so damn full of," Andrea said. Merle was busy lapping at her neck and she went about scrubbing at her hair, wondering how long it was going to take him to get a mouth full of lather. "We move Daryl's new mattress in there and bring the death trap across the hall and leave it here for the lucky new tenants that get the prize behind door number one," she said.
"Ya ain't gon' shut up, is ya?" Merle asked, moving his hand to her breasts. She tried to focus on rinsing out her hair, telling herself that if she gave in at all she was going to lose this battle and she was a lot better at holding out than he was, especially when it was this important to her.
"Nope," she responded. "Not until you agree to move your ass across the hall."
Merle sighed.
"Ya too damn hardheaded," Merle responded.
Andrea chuckled, biting back the moan that threatened to escape her lips when he nibbled at her nipple.
"You're a good one to talk," she said. "Now what is it?" She pushed him out the way and rubbed conditioner into her hair, turning around and purposefully putting her back to him while she went about lathering up the loofa to scrub off the smell that had sunk into her pores. "Hot water won't last all day, Merle…"
Merle sighed and wrapped his arms around her, heaving her back against him and roughly scrubbing his chin against her backbone, trying to scratch her with what stubble had come in since he shaved this morning.
"I don't give a fuck," he said finally. "If ya wanta spend a whole damn day a' ya life haulin' shit 'cross tha damn hall then knock ya fuckin' ass out, just don't ask me ta do it."
Andrea shoved him back and set about washing herself quickly, smiling to herself and glad that he couldn't see it because she had her back turned on him.
"Don't worry, Merle, the last thing I was going to do was ask you to put yourself out so much by helping me move shit," she responded. "You can bet it won't be all damn day either. We don't even own enough shit between the three of us to take a whole day to move."
"Now ya satisfied?" Merle asked.
"As hard as it may be for you to believe…yes," Andrea said. "I'll call the landlord in the morning and let him know we want it just as soon as she moves out."
"Then why don't'cha finish washin' ya dirty ass an' turn around here an' be a little less of a bitch ta me?" Merle asked. He kissed the back of her neck roughly biting at the skin there that he could rake between his teeth.
Andrea moaned a little then and quickly rinsed off, returning the loofa to it's spot on the shower knob. She turned then, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into her.
"If you weren't such a hard headed asshole sometimes, I could get away with being a whole lot nicer," she said.
He kissed her then, pushing her into the shower wall, his hands dipping down and running over her in the shower spray.
"Ya reckon?" He growled.
"Yep," she said. "Except I just don't think you'd like me as much then…"
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Daryl knew by the time that they'd finished looking at furniture on Sunday that he didn't give one fuck about furniture. He'd suspected it before, but he was certain of it now. They'd driven around to at least four different towns looking at stores and the day was shot. If he'd seen one bed, he'd seen twenty, and the same was true for couches and tables with chairs.
Carol, though, she'd acted like she was in some kind of damn wonderland. She'd even made them backtrack twice to places they'd already been so she could get one more look at something she'd seen there.
"Look at this bed, Daryl. Look at that one, Daryl. Don't you like this headboard? Isn't this pretty? What do you think about this couch? Did you like those chairs or the other ones better? Do you think you'd want to sit in these every day or would the other ones be more comfortable?" The questions had gone and on and on. Daryl thought they'd never finish. He was desperate toward the end to be doing anything and was grateful that she didn't seem to notice that he slipped out to smoke a cigarette at the last store, which was actually the second time they'd been there, while she was putting the "perfect" bed on hold with the owner to be picked up when it was time to move into her house.
As far as Daryl was concerned it didn't matter one damn bit. A bed was a bed, it was essentially unnecessary as long as you had a floor and you had mattresses. Besides the fact, Lincoln was always up and down in the damn bed despite his urging that the dog learn to sleep on the nice, luxury ass mattress thing that Michonne had given him to sleep on and his legs were pretty fucking short which meant one of them was always crawling over the other to pick him up and put him down. Not to mention Lincoln was beginning to put on weight and he was eventually going to be a pain in the ass to pick up. If the bed was on the floor, they wouldn't have to deal with that shit. It would be a hell of a lot easier to bring the bed to Lincoln than to keep bringing Lincoln to the bed.
Still, Carol was determined that she needed to look at all this shit and she needed to look at it more than once, so he'd bit his tongue and followed her around and around grunting at every one of her damn questions. Finally she seemed satisfied, though. Daryl had an itchy feeling, though, that it was going to be him and maybe Merle that had to bring the truck back to get the shit that she'd picked out when she finally got to move into this house she was so tickled about. Daryl didn't mind moving the shit for her so much from the store to the house, but he was sure Merle was going to find that as prime time to bitch about something.
On the way back to Sweet Junction, Daryl stopped at a barbecue place that Carol had been raving about and sat in the truck smoking a cigarette while she skipped inside, excited as a fucking lark, to pick up plates for them to take home for dinner. He was glad, at least, that he wouldn't have to wait on her to cook since his stomach was damn near eating itself. She didn't seem to notice that they'd missed lunch, but it surely hadn't crept by him.
When they got back to the apartment, Carol went in and put the Styrofoam boxes on the table. She opened the cabinets and started digging around.
"The hell ya doin'?" Daryl asked.
"I'm getting plates, Daryl, aren't you hungry? Your stomach growled the whole way home," Carol responded.
"Yeah I'm hungry," he said. "Just don't see what we need no damn plates for. We just eatin' barbecue." He couldn't really see what the problem with the Styrofoam containers and plastic forks was.
"We're going to eat out of plates like civilized people," Carol said with a giggle. "Take Lincoln for his walk before he goes all over the floor and when you get back your food will be waiting on you."
Daryl sighed.
He took the leash off the coat rack that Carol had hung by the door and Lincoln immediately began dancing around at his feet like it was the most exciting thing that could ever happen. He didn't understand why the dog thought walks were so damn great. It wasn't like they ever went anywhere new. They just circled around the same damn plots of grass and the same thing happened every single time they did it.
He finally got the leash hooked only by finally folling the overexcited hound dog onto his back where he couldn't keep the collar out of his reach. He let the dog back up and Lincoln regained his feet and went to stand with his nose pressed against the crack of the door. Carol was humming, not paying him any attention, and arranging food on plates, so he figured he should go and get back as quickly as possible.
"We'll be right back," he said.
"And then we'll eat," Carol said, smiling at him. Daryl nodded his head and opened the door, letting Lincoln run out first since it meant so damn much to him.
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"Did you like the bed I picked out?" Carol asked.
Daryl sighed, trying to ignore her for at least a little bit, and focused his attention more on her breasts which were currently in his face and far more fascinating than discussing the beds that they'd seen. He sucked at her nipples.
"Mmm hmmm," he moaned, hoping it was enough to satisfy her. "Got me an idea," he said.
"What's that?" She asked, tipping her head back a little when he bit down gently on her nipple. He had his back against the wall and she was sitting across his lap, facing him. He worked his hands down under her, grabbing her ass and dragging her closer to him, making sure she knew that he was already ready for this part of the conversation to be over whenever she felt it was an appropriate time to rid herself of the violet cotton panties that she was wearing.
"How 'bout we talk about this bed?" Daryl asked. "'Cause right now, it's my favorite."
Carol laughed and buried her face for a moment in the crook of his neck, biting down on the skin there and sucking. She was going to leave a mark and he knew it. She'd done it more than once and Merle had given him hell about having a hickey, even though he had seen Merle with his own share of the purple blotches.
"Ya keep doin' that an' I'ma suck a big ole damn Mickey Mouse, plain as day on ya neck," Daryl said.
Carol giggled into his skin.
"You are, are you?" She asked, using the throaty voice that she seemed to only produce whenever they were about to sleep together.
"Damn straight," Daryl said. Carol bit down and sucked him again, dipping her hips and grinding against him. He nearly came up from his position on the mattress. "Damn, woman!" He growled.
Carol responded by laughing a little and backing off of him. She climbed off his lap and took off her underwear, expertly tossing them at the laundry basket that she'd moved to the end of the bed, having learned that given the chance, Lincoln promptly ate holes in any and all underwear that landed on the floor. Daryl took the opportunity to rid himself of his own.
Carol leaned over him and kissed him, their tongues caught up in a battle for dominance for the moment. When she broke away, she leaned down, taking him into her mouth. Daryl leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, groaning a second at the feeling of her mouth wrapped around him.
Finally, though, he pulled himself together and reached down, catching her chin. She left her position then, looking at him questioningly.
"What are ya doin'?" He asked.
Carol blushed. In fact, she blushed redder than Daryl had ever seen her blush before. She sat there looking at him for a moment, almost scarlet.
"I was…" she stuttered. "Well, I was trying…" She looked almost like she might cry trying to explain herself and Daryl smiled, pulling her face up to him and kissing her.
"I mean I know what ya was doin', woman, but I don't want'cha doin' it," Daryl said when he broke away from the kiss. Carol looked at him, her brows wrinkling.
"I just wanted to do it for you," Carol said.
Daryl kissed her again, softly, and then kissed her cheeks softly. He shook his head.
"I don't want'cha doin' it, OK? Not right now," he said.
Carol nodded, but she looked uncertain and he didn't like that look on her face. She looked like she'd been scolded and he hadn't meant to scold her. He wasn't sure what it was, but he just didn't like the idea so much of her doing that or maybe it was that he wondered if she felt like she had to do it.
"I'd rather ya come back over here an' be real nice ta me," Daryl said.
Carol nodded her head again, half smiling, but Daryl felt bad now. Whether he wanted her to do it or not he wished he'd just let her finish so she wouldn't look right now like she was trying not to cry. She could take shit so damn personal sometimes, even when he didn't mean nothing by it and once she got her feelings hurt or she got uptight about something, then she was jumpy and tense the whole rest of the night.
Carol moved back to his lap and eased herself down on him and he hissed with the feeling of it, with the feeling of her. This was the way that he liked most to be connected with her. Right there in front of him where he could look at her eyes, but now she wasn't looking at him anyway. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked past him, at the wall.
Daryl sighed, hoping that this didn't wreck the whole evening. He fought his urge to buck into her and caught her face again, turning it so that she was looking straight at him despite the fact that she kept rolling her eyes away from him in response.
"Hey!" He said. "Look at me. Ya ain't done a damn thing wrong so stop makin' that face. I just would rather we do this, OK? I ain't mad at'cha," he said.
Carol nodded again, but didn't say anything and Daryl knew well enough that she'd already gone over all the levels in her mind and gone straight to being upset. If she spoke now, she'd cry, so she wasn't going to speak. He wondered what he should do, but she was sitting on him and he was already buried inside of her and frankly about to die. If he tried to call anything off now he'd just suffer and she'd be more upset, probably misinterpreting him.
"Ready?" He asked, finally. He didn't pay much attention to her nod. She put her hands back on his shoulders and rested her forehead against one of them.
She moved with him, but she never came and he knew better than to even try. It was just prolonging it for her since at the moment she just seemed to be going through the motions. Daryl had already figured out that they were fundamentally different. The friction alone of an encounter could bring him over the edge, even if his mood was sour, but if she wasn't in the right mood, then it was next to impossible to ever get more than a little response out of her from just performing actions that he knew she liked.
When Daryl finally came, he heaved her over, spilling her onto her back on the bed and he hovered over her, getting his breath. She wasn't trying not to cry now and he felt his chest clench.
"Really?" He asked. "Ya really cryin' 'cause I asked ya not ta do that?" She had her head turned toward the wall and he tried to turn her face but she fought against him. He almost wanted to cry right along with her and he wasn't entirely positive why she was crying. "Carol," he said, seeing he wasn't getting a response out of her. "I told ya that ya didn't have ta suck on my dick, I didn't tell ya that I was gon' do somethin' terrible to ya. What the hell ya cryin' about? Hell, if it means that much to ya then ya more than welcome ta do it, I just would rather see ya face."
Carol turned her head then and looked at him, tears running down the sides of her face and he reached down and wiped at them. He hated the whimpering noise she made when she was trying not to cry and being unsuccessful at it.
"Ya wanna tell me why ya cryin' now?" Daryl asked, seeing that she was looking at him. She seemed to be calming down a little. She shook her head and wiped at her face. Daryl shook his head in response. Sometimes he got to know why she got upset, other times he didn't. He tried not to push too much either way. He figured a lot of the time it had to with one thing or another with Ed and he didn't like to root around in that any more than he had to. He knew there were things that reminded him of not so great times in his life and he'd rather keep them to himself, so he wasn't going to go picking at Carol's scabs.
When she finally calmed down, Daryl lie down beside her, ignoring the fact that he could see the top of Lincoln's head over the side of the mattress. Lincoln might think he needed to be involved, but he didn't need to be up there yet. Carol leaned into him after a few minutes and threaded one of her legs between his, kissing him softly. She was still sobbing slightly from time to time.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Daryl squeezed her to him.
"Ya ain't the one s'posed ta be sorry," he said.
"I just wanted to do it for you," she said. "Just…I don't know…something for you. I wanted you to like it."
He thought she might start crying again, so he pulled her into him and kissed her, making it the longest, laziest kiss that he could stand, hoping to distract her. When he finally broke the kiss with her, she didn't look like she was on the verge of tears anymore, so he figured that it might have worked.
"I woulda liked it," he said. "Ain't got nothin' ta do with that, Carol. It's just that if we was goin' ta do somethin' then I just rather we do somethin' that we both like. I mean it, though, if it's somethin' that's important to ya, I ain't gonna say another damn thing about it when ya decide ya wanna do it."
Carol didn't respond, but she lie down beside him and burrowed into him. He wrapped his arm around, hugging her to him and kissing her forehead. She was quiet for a bit and he wondered if she'd drifted off to sleep. He didn't move though, he just lie there, holding her against him.
Finally, though, Daryl started looking around the room, entertaining himself since he wasn't ready to sleep, and he couldn't help but laugh at Lincoln who was desperately trying to get someone's attention by hopping up and down the bed from one end to the other. As a result, all Daryl could see was the top of his head popping up and down as he moved along like some kind of whack a mole. Daryl chuckled.
"What's funny?" Carol asked. Daryl hadn't realized she was awake. He pulled away from her then and she looked much calmer, and almost like she'd at least been dozing off a little.
"Roll over an' have yaself a look at Lincoln," he said. "Then ya gonna see what's funny."
Carol rolled a little and looked at the only visual evidence of the dog's desperate dance to try to get on the bed that he would never be able to jump on.
"Awww!" She cried. "Daryl, help him! That's so sad and you're laughing at him!" She scolded, though he didn't miss the little snort of a laugh she gave at the end of it. He sighed and crawled over her, getting out of the bed and lifting the dog up to the mattress. Lincoln bounded up the bed and went directly to wiggle against Carol's chest and try to lick her face. He acted very excited with himself like he'd just magically made it to the bed as a result of all his efforts from the floor.
Daryl chuckled again, crawling back onto the bed and lying on the other side of Lincoln who was settling down a little with Carol's suggestions to him, tugging a little at the blanket with his teeth despite the fact she was scolding him not to chew.
"That dog's the ultimate cockblock," Daryl said. "He gets right on up here in between us like that's where the hell he belongs."
"Where does he belong, then?" Carol asked.
Daryl chuckled and raised his eyebrows at her.
"Well he belongs on the floor, but since I done lost that battle, I reckon he belongs at the foot a' the damn bed…at least until we done foolin' around," Daryl said.
"We weren't done?" Carol asked.
"I was kinda hopin' we might fool around when ya was interested in it, ya know instead a' when ya was tryin' not ta bawl all over me. Kinda hurts a man's ego when his woman cries the whole time they havin' sex," Daryl said.
Carol snickered at him.
"OK," she said, "I'm sorry and I'll give you that. How about we just push him out of the way then and show him that sometimes he's not allowed to be in between us?"
Daryl grinned and slid the dog over, leaning over Carol again and kissing her.
"Fine," he said, kissing her neck. "First damn time that dog sticks his nose in my ass, though, he's goin' on the damn floor 'til we done."
Carol laughed.
"Sounds fair enough to me," she said.