AN: I hope everyone's weekend is going great! Here's a little something to read if you're bored!
I hope you enjoy!
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Carol glanced out the window again, checking to see if Daryl's truck had pulled up in the driveway yet. It hadn't. She knew he'd be home soon, but she wasn't sure when. Merle was outside under the carport, tinkering with his bike. She'd been ignoring him since she got home, a little earlier than she expected since Michonne wanted to leave early for something she had to do, and she'd been trying to get around to all the cooking she was shuffling. Dinner was simple and it was ready. She hadn't really meant for the cooking to explode out of control like it had, but she had a pan of oatmeal raisin cookies cooling on the counter and an apple pie was baking now in addition to the dinner that she had covered and sitting on the stove in hopes it wouldn't be too cold when Daryl got there to eat it.
Carol walked over, testing the cookies with her finger. They were cool enough to pick up now at least, so she gathered three of them up in her hand and stepped out the door to the carport. Merle was sitting on the ground, talking to himself or to the bike. She couldn't really tell which.
"Brought you some cookies," she said, walking over and holding out two of them, the other tucked in her hand for herself.
Merle stopped what he was doing and looked up at her.
"Cookies?" He asked. She nodded and he chuckled. "Did ya bring me a fuckin' glass a' milk too, mom?" He said.
Carol wrinkled her brow.
"If you don't want my cookies," she said, "you can just say no thanks. You don't have to be an asshole about someone offering you cookies."
She started to turn and Merle reached out, grabbing at her pants leg.
"Calm tha fuck down," Merle said. "I'll eat'cha damn cookies."
He wiped his hands on his shirt and reached up, taking the cookies that Carol offered him.
"I don't want it to be a chore for you," Carol said. "Please don't feel you have to eat them if it's going to ruin your whole day."
"You're a smart ass, ya know that?" Merle replied.
Carol shrugged a little and walked over to the step in front of the door, sitting down and leaning back against the door to eat the cookie. She had intended to make the pie, but not the cookies. Really those had been an afterthought and when she'd thought about them while walking around the store it seemed to her that oatmeal raisin cookies would be the best thing on Earth to eat right now. As soon as she bit into it she was pretty sure that it was the next best thing to something like food directly from God.
Merle was gobbling his cookies, so she guessed he must not have thought they were as terrible as he let on in the beginning.
"You like them?" Carol asked, trying to eat hers slowly so it lasted. Otherwise she feared she might just pull a chair over to the bar and sit there until the pan was gone, and then she'd probably spend the rest of the night throwing up.
"Not too damn bad," Merle said. When he finished the cookies he fumbled around, clattering things against the cement. Carol finally finished hers and dusted her hands of on the bottom of her pants, wrapping her fingers around her knees.
"How's your bike coming?" She asked.
Merle chuckled.
"Like any damn bike ya only been workin' on a couple a' days," Merle said. "Don't try ta talk about shit ya don't know nothin' 'bout. I hate it when women start tryin' ta do that 'less they tryin' ta get a piece, an' if that's what they after it'd be a whole lot fuckin' faster ta just say ya tryin' ta get laid."
Carol sighed and rolled her eyes, though she knew that Merle didn't see it.
"Well I'm not trying to get laid," she said, feeling a little frustrated by Merle's snarly attitude.
"Yeah…I reckon not. Baby brothah done laid ya good, I reckon," Merle said.
Carol sighed. Merle could be plain disgusting. She wondered if somewhere underneath there was something worth seeing. She assumed something had to be hidden under there for Andrea to stay around him, though she was beginning to think that Andrea might be some kind of angel sent on a mission from God or something to put up with Merle and not go running and screaming at times.
Carol pushed herself up from the step and dusted the dirt on her palms off on her thighs. At about the same time Merle got up from his position.
"Reckon I'm headin' out," he said, wiping his hands on his pants and digging in his pocket to come up a minute later with the keys to Andrea's car. "Andrea's workin' at that Korean joint an' she gets right pissy if'n she's gotta stand outside too damn long."
Carol simply looked at him.
"And you don't want her to get pissy, right?" Carol asked after a moment.
Merle smiled at her…or smirked at her really.
"Pain in my ass when she's got a mind ta be pissy," Merle said.
"Or you just don't want her mad at you because you care?" Carol asked, raising her eyebrow.
Merle shook his head, sucking his teeth a little.
"Get'cha ass inside an' bake ya damn cookies," Merle said. "I'm sure Derlina loves tha hell outta that." He chuckled a little.
Carol hadn't baked cookies for Daryl before, but she hoped he'd like them. She didn't like Merle's attitude, but she knew not to push her luck. The chuckle very likely disguised some other comment he was going to make and he was holding it back, offering a chuckle instead to try to stay pleasant as per their agreement. She turned around, grabbing the door handle and opening the door.
"Tell Andrea hi for me," Carol said, not commenting on Daryl and the cookies. "See you later, Merle," she said, slipping into the house. She made her way back to the window and watched a few minutes later as Merle backed Andrea's car out of the driveway.
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When Daryl came through the door the flood of smells hit him almost as soon as Lincoln came flying toward his legs and caused him to begin the "you're home" dance that had to take place whenever you tried to move through the kitchen.
He leaned down, picking the dog up to avoid stepping on him.
"Smells fuckin' good in here," Daryl said, ignoring the dog squirming around and trying to lick his face.
Carol was standing at the sink and she turned around, grinning at him.
"You think?" She asked.
"Hell yeah I do!" Daryl said. He couldn't pinpoint all the smells that were bombarding him, but he knew that it smelled like something he wanted to eat, that was for damn sure. "What'cha makin'?"
Carol smiled again.
"I made chicken and steamed vegetables for dinner," Carol said. "Not too special, but I baked oatmeal raisin cookies and the apple pie is almost done for dessert."
Lincoln had settled down now, panting against Daryl from the sheer exhaustion of the overwhelming excitement of having anyone walk through the door. Daryl carried him over and leaned over to kiss Carol. She tangled her tongue with his and when she pulled apart from him she lowered her head and nuzzled at the dog.
"Damn," Daryl said, licking his lips a little. "Ya taste almost as damn good as it smells in here."
Carol giggled a little.
"I may have spoiled my dinner with a cookie…or four…or maybe five," she said.
Daryl snickered.
"Did'ja save me any cookies, woman?" He asked.
Carol blushed a little and Daryl leaned over, putting the dog back on the floor.
"There are some left," she said. "I sealed them up in a bowl over there on the counter. If I can see them I keep eating them."
Daryl pulled her to him and kissed her again. He growled a little when she reached around him, slipping her hands in the back of his jeans and scratching at the skin there.
"Well ya taste damn good," he said. "I reckon I can forgive ya for eatin' the lion's share a' the cookies."
Carol backed off him and playfully slapped at his chest.
"I didn't eat the lion's share!" She said. "Merle had two and the rest are for you. You can have some tonight if you want it and take them to work with you tomorrow. I'm going to send some pie with you too for Hershel and Jo."
Daryl smiled and shrugged a little.
"Whatever ya want," he said. "I got time ta shower so's I can eat my supper without smellin' cow shit all over me?"
Carol nodded.
"The pie's about to come out and I'm going to put dinner in the oven to warm it up a bit. It should be almost perfect when you're ready to eat," she said.
Daryl smiled and kissed her gently again, tipping her face up with his finger, before he turned and rushed toward the bedroom to get as quick of a shower as he could.
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Daryl was leaned against the arm of the couch, stretched out. Carol was laid across him, leaning against his chest and reading her book. Lincoln was stretched across both their legs. Every now and again he sighed and readjusted himself as if to declare to them that wasn't ideally how he would have liked the couch time to be, but it was as good as it was getting for him.
Carol sighed a little and brought Daryl out of his daydream. He squeezed her little, his arms wrapped around her.
"Are you mad I ate too much and I'm not in the mood to have sex now?" Carol asked, leaning back farther into him. Daryl chuckled a little. He leaned in, smelling her hair. She smelled like her familiar scent mixed with cinnamon.
"Nah," he said. "I'm pretty full up myself. In fact I'm kinda glad ya layin' ta the side there. If ya was mashin' my stomach any I reckon I'd be the one tonight in the bathroom heavin' an' 'pologizin' for it."
"I'm sorry," Carol said, a little forlornly.
"There ya go again with that shit," Daryl said.
The apologizing had been in her jar for the night. Daryl didn't think she should apologize all the damn time for things that she didn't have a single damn reason to be sorry for. It made him feel like he'd done something wrong to make her feel guilty about things she couldn't even control. He understood that she felt like she had to apologize because she'd spent so many damn years telling that fucker Ed that she was sorry for everything right down to breathing, but Daryl wanted her to understand he wasn't Ed and he didn't think she needed to say she was sorry unless she'd actually done something that merited apology.
"I'll stop," Carol said. "I promise."
Daryl squeezed her into him again gently. She laid her book down in her lap a minute, still open. He rubbed his hands on her and pulled her shirt up a little, rubbing his calloused fingers across the soft skin of her stomach, making her twitch a little under them.
"Ya kinda puffier than usual tonight," Daryl said.
"Are you saying I'm fat?" Carol asked. Daryl could tell there was a little challenge in her voice and he chuckled.
"Not hardly," he said. "Is that supper, though, or is it baby?"
Carol put her hand over his, her fingertips rubbing at the same skin he had his hands over.
"I think that's just dinner," she said. She yawned a little. "I think it's going to be a while before I can blame that on the baby."
"Yeah?" Daryl asked.
"Yeah," Carol responded, moving her head around a little against his chest. He leaned in, kissing the top of her head a little. He chuckled and raked his fingers lightly down her side so that she squealed at him and squirmed, disturbing Lincoln.
"Don't!" She gasped.
Daryl chuckled again but stopped tickling her.
"I think that shit's cookies," he said. "That's what the hell I think it is."
Carol turned a little, but she couldn't see him from her position so she just scrubbed her cheek a little against his chest.
"That's what you think it is, huh?" She asked.
"Yep, sure do," Daryl responded. "I think it's all them damn cookies ya ate."
Carol giggled.
"I think it might be cookies too," she said.
Daryl rubbed his hands over her stomach again, this time without the intent to tickle. The skin underneath his fingertips still flinched, as it always did, but she didn't break into the fit of giggling that she did when he intentionally tickled her.
"How long ya reckon it's gonna be 'fore ya all puffed up 'cause a' the baby an' not 'cause ya thought it'd be a good damn idea ta eat dinner an' a whole damn pan a' cookies?" He asked.
"I didn't eat the whole pan," Carol protested. "And I don't know. A while, Daryl. I've never done this before, but I'm barely even two months. I don't know…when do women start showing? Maybe like when I'm six months or something."
Daryl shifted a little, sliding himself down a bit into the couch.
"Are you still going to like me when I'm big and fat?" Carol asked.
Daryl couldn't imagine Carol pregnant…at least not what he thought of when he thought of pregnant women. He always thought of the really big women that you saw waddling around in public. The ones that you knew from space were pregnant. He tried, sometimes, to put her head on that image, but it didn't work in his mind so he figured he'd just wait it out and see it for himself. Regardless, though, of what she looked like, he didn't think it was going to change the way he felt about her.
"I'm still gonna love ya," he said, nuzzling her hair.
Carol rubbed her hands on his.
"I'm almost eight weeks," Carol said. "And from the pictures in my book, the baby still looks like a little worm or something."
Daryl chuckled.
"Looks like a worm?" He asked.
"Yep, like a worm," Carol said. She picked the book up that she'd rested on her lap and flipped through the pages. Finally she held it up at him. He moved his hands away from her body long enough to adjust the book and pull it closer to him to study the picture.
"Damn sure does look like some kinda worm…or a bug or some shit at least," Daryl said. "Kinda gross…"
Carol moved the book.
"Don't call our baby gross!" She said. "What if it can hear you? What if it's first memory of you is that you called it gross?"
Daryl chuckled.
"I reckon if both of us agree the damn thing looks like a worm or a bug, then it'll understand why the fuck I said it was kind a gross," Daryl said. "If'n it don't then it can put it in my cookie jar."
Carol shifted a little, playfully elbowing Daryl in the chest. He reached and rubbed the spot, chucking at her a little. He stretched his legs a bit, disturbing Lincoln once more.
"Come on, woman. We both gotta get up in the mornin' an' we might as well sleep in the bed. Ya done readin' anyway," Daryl said.
Carol stretched and started to sit up, putting the book on the back of the couch.
"You're right," she said, yawning.
Daryl got up and whistled to Lincoln, opening the door. The dog galloped down his steps and ran out. He was great about going in or out anytime you wanted, unless of course you were late for something or you had to piss something awful. Then he'd take all damn day to do what he usually did in a couple of seconds.
Daryl walked around switching things off and locking doors while he waited for the dog to do what he was going to do. When Lincoln trotted back into the house, Daryl offered him a treat without any ceremony, feeling pretty tired and ready to get to bed.
Carol got up and locked the door that led to the yard, the one they referred to as Lincoln's door. She stood by it and waited on Daryl to shuffle past, headed toward the bedroom.
"Come on bug woman," Daryl said. "Let's get'cha ass ta bed."
Carol sighed and followed after him.
"I never should have shown you that," she said.
Daryl chuckled.
"Would ya rather I called ya cookie monster?" Daryl asked.
Carol giggled in response.
"I've been called worse things, I suppose," she said.
Daryl dropped back, waiting for her to pass him and slip into the bedroom. He stood by the light switch until she was stripped down to her shirt and underwear and nestled under the cover. He flipped the switch off and crossed the room sliding into his side of the bed. He leaned over her then, rubbing her cheek with his thumb, her hand over his. He kissed her and she kissed him back, holding it for a second.
"Love ya," he said.
"Love you too," Carol responded.
Daryl didn't have to wait for it because as soon as he dropped to his side and tugged his pillow under his head, Carol slid back in the bed, bumping her body against his. He reached up and brushed her hair down that invaded his pillow and threatened to get into his mouth and then he dropped his arm over her, letting his fingers trail lazily over her stomach until he fell asleep.