AN: Here's a chapter for you…or another episode…however you'd like to think about it.

I'll try to update other stories too, soon. I've been really busy and tired…so it's hard to get into some of the other frames of mind right now.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Daryl pulled up to the house when it was already dark, though that didn't necessarily mean that it was late by any stretch of the imagination given the fact that the time change had made it seem like it got dark not too long after they finished lunch each day.

He got out the truck, slamming the door behind him, and started toward the carport, still finishing the cigarette he'd lit just after turning on their road.

Merle and Axel were under the carport. Merle was on his knees sanding the dresser that they had for the nursery and Axel was sitting on the step by the door sanding the drawers that were piled up near him.

"What the hell ya doin'?" Daryl asked, even though the activity was pretty obviously self explanatory.

"Sandin' this fuckin' dresser, what the hell's it look like we doin'?" Merle croaked.

Daryl accepted that much of a dig from his brother. In hindsight it was a stupid question. It wasn't entirely what he'd meant to say. What he was more curious about was why they were the ones sanding it when he'd already declared that he'd take care of the dresser for Carol.

"I meant why the fuck ya doin' it," Daryl corrected.

Merle chuckled.

"Why the fuck not?" He asked.

"It was sand the dresser or paint the nursery," Axel said. "I'm workin' for my dinner. I fancy sandin' a whole lot more than paintin' if I got my druthers."

"'Sides," Merle said, "they in there cluckin' an' I ain't up ta listenin' ta that shit while paintin' a room looks like a fuckin' Easter egg. Ya seen that shit?"

Daryl shook his head. Carol and Andrea had been painting the day before and obviously today they were doing another coat. The room was going to be some kind of purple, he knew that much, but he hadn't gone in there to see it.

"'S a lil' girl's room," Daryl said. "Reckon they like them colors."

Daryl glanced back and forth between the men. Axel was almost done with the drawers, obviously, and Merle didn't have too much more to go on the dresser. Daryl figured he'd wait to go inside since he didn't want to make Axel move from his position to allow him access through the door.

"I was gonna paint the dresser," Daryl said, feeling like he should defend himself for not doing the activity set aside for him in the nursery.

Merle chuckled.

"Ya still gon' paint the fuckin' thing. I ain't paintin' it, just said I'd sand it ta get outta paintin' in there," Merle responded.

Daryl nodded and scuffed his foot on the ground.

"Ya still lookin' for a car?" Axel asked suddenly.

Daryl looked over there where the man had stopped standing for the second, the last of the drawers resting on his lap that was covered in dust. Daryl nodded.

"Man I work with at the mill said he's sellin' one," Axel said. "If ya interested in it then I could run by there tomorrow. He don't live two blocks from work. Could at least tell ya if it's worth the drive to check out."

"Good price?" Daryl asked.

Axel shrugged.

"Don't know all that, but I can ask him. Know my way around a car pretty good. Can give ya an idea if it's worth what he's askin'. Got four doors, though…he says it's low on miles and it ain't never been wrecked," Axel said.

Daryl nodded.

"I'd 'preciate it," Daryl said.

Axel smiled and nodded, turning his attention back to the drawer.

"Then I'll roll over there when I get off. Tell ya if it's worth ya time. Tell him to hold onto it if I think ya might like it," Axel said.

Daryl grunted his thanks and finished his cigarette, having smoked it to the filter, and walked over dropping the spent butt in the bucket that they kept for just such a thing.

He walked around to the fence and watched Lincoln and the little dog that belonged to Axel, who was wearing a coat it appeared, playing in the yard. He clucked at them, reaching down over the fence and brushing the top of Lincoln's head and petting the hopping mouse when she jumped up. After he'd spoken to the canines, he turned back, figuring that the dresser might be done soon and he could get inside to see what the women had done to the room that was going to be his daughter's nursery.

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Daryl had expected the room to be purple. He'd known it was going to be a baby purple. He had not, however, expected to ever see this much purple in his entire life.

The room was, as Merle had put it, very much painted up like an Easter egg. When he walked into the space, followed by Merle, Axel having bid them goodnight and yelled through at the women after he finished the drawers and collected his rat-dog, he was almost overwhelmed with it.

It was lavender. That's what Carol said from where she was scooting along on the floor painting the second coat on the lower part of the walls while Andrea moved around on a ladder painting the upper portions. Everything else…the trim and such…was painted white.

It wasn't that Daryl didn't like it, but it was a pretty sharp contrast from the white in the rest of the house since they hadn't painted anything since they'd moved in.

"Yeeeppp," Merle drawled, looking around the room and smiling at Daryl with the shit eating grin he wore when he was really enjoying something that he was giving Daryl hell about. "That's gon' be one pissed off lil' boy when he sees all this shit…"

Carol sighed from the floor.

"It's a girl, Merle. Lil' Bit's a girl…" she said, her voice slightly muffled by the paper mask she was wearing. Daryl thought it was funny because both she and Andrea looked like they were prepped for surgery with the masks on…and they were both pretty poor painters considering they were wearing a good deal of the paint that could have been on the walls.

Merle sucked his teeth in response to Carol.

"That's what'cha keep sayin'," Merle said. "Ain't no kin a mine if'n it's a girl. Ain't never been no girl was born a Dixon."

"First time for everything," Andrea said from atop the ladder. Daryl snickered at her and wondered if anyone was going to tell her that a good deal of her hair was purple now.

"Believe it when I see it," Merle said. "If'n it's a girl, reckon ya picked it up somewhere…"

Daryl reached over and smacked Merle in the back of the head and Merle rubbed at the spot, glaring in Daryl's direction.

"'Nuff a' that shit," Daryl growled.

He knew that Merle was teasing, and Carol had become a pretty good sport at understanding that Merle didn't know very well how to communicate with someone without teasing. The best Daryl could figure it was that for Merle, giving people shit was about the equivalent of talking nice to them for everyone else. If Merle didn't like you, he wouldn't tease you. He'd either just be an asshole to you or he wouldn't waste his time on you. Teasing was reserved for those that he liked, for one reason or another, and it appeared that Carol was starting to accept that. That didn't mean, though, that Daryl wanted him to go far enough to upset her. She wasn't as prone to crying as she had been before, and he aimed to keep it that way if he could.

"We'll see how much you protest when she's here," Carol said, scooting a little more and continuing to focus on what she was doing. "I bet you'll change your tune once you see her."

Andrea snickered from her position on the ladder, but didn't say anything.

Merle scoffed at both of them. Merle loved to give people shit, but he wasn't as good at taking it as he was at dishing it out. It wasn't that he got mad about it all that often, but he didn't ever seem to know how to react when the tables were turned.

"Pssshhh…" Merle hissed. "I still say they ain't no damn kid an' just fat an' usin' the kid ta cover it."

Carol sighed and shook her head.

"There you have it," she said. "My plan is foolproof. No one's ever going to expect any evidence of this so called pregnancy."

Andrea laughed, coming down off the ladder, and Daryl went over to take the paint cup and brush so that she could use her hands to assist her in her descent instead of trying to come down using her elbows.

"Well, the upper part of this nursery is officially done," Andrea said. "So you better be pregnant or I'm going to be pissed that we put so much time into this just because you're fat."

"I'm not fat!" Carol protested, shoving the brush she was using into the cup she'd been dragging along with her as she scooched around the room.

Daryl chuckled at her. She was riled up was what she was. Andrea hissed at her and Merle chuckled.

Carol turned her head, looking at Merle.

"I'm not fat…" she said again.

Daryl shook his head, waiting to see what would happen with all of them trapped in one little room with wet walls after Merle had pushed this button.

"You done?" Andrea asked.

Carol huffed and nodded. Merle chuckled again.

"Then why don't'cha get up off the floor?" He asked.

Carol glared at him again.

"I was going to," she said. "I just hadn't got around to it yet."

"'Cause ya too fat…" Merle said with a chuckle.

"She ain't all that fat," Daryl said, jumping in. "She's just a lil' bit fatter than the other women in the pamphlets we got that s'posed ta be as big as she is…reckon she could still get up if she's got a mind ta do it."

Daryl walked over to offer a hand to Carol, but the look that crossed her face told him he probably shouldn't have added his two cents into this conversation. She glared at him and crossed her arms.

"I'm good, thank you," she said sharply, refusing his hand.

Daryl chuckled nervously.

"Come on now, don't be like that," Daryl urged. He reached down to catch her arm and she yanked away from him so he left her alone for a second, straightening back up. He didn't want her snatching away and sticking herself to the wet wall that she'd just finished painting simply to prove that she could be more persistent than he could.

Daryl glanced at Merle who was watching them like they were a sporting event. Andrea was tugging at his arm, her mask down and hanging around her neck now.

"I think maybe we should go home," Andrea said.

Merle looked like he'd refuse at first, but Andrea tugged at him again.

"Merle!" She called. "Let's go! We got things to do."

Daryl wanted to tell both of them they were assholes if they bailed on him now. They were going to leave and he was going to be alone with Carol who was obviously not in high spirits for the moment. She was very clearly stewing, her arms crossed across her chest tightly, staring at the floor.

Andrea and Merle did leave, though, without much more than a quick goodbye from Andrea and a grunt from Merle. They left him alone…in a room painted like an Easter egg with a woman who looked like she was considering what side dish she was going to serve when she fried up his testicles and served them to him.

Daryl swallowed, hearing the door close behind his brother and Andrea, and then he turned back to Carol.

"Come on," he said. "Ya ain't fat an' ya can't spend all damn night sittin' on the floor. Ya gon' be bitchin' 'bout'cha back if ya don't get up soon."

Carol looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

"You said I was fat," she said.

Daryl chewed his lip.

"Merle said ya was fat," Daryl corrected. "An' Andrea sorta…"

Carol wrinkled her brow. The look he was getting at this moment was a warning look. He had gone too far and he was treading on the edge of going beyond saving.

"Ya ain't fat…" he said. He offered her a nervous smile. "Ya…" he paused…he felt like he was taking a test, but it was a test where he'd never seen the answers before. "Ya just…right…" he said. After the words came out of his mouth they didn't sound as great as he'd hoped they would, but they were better than nothing.

Carol glared at him before shifting around coming to her hands and knees.

"I'm fine, thanks," she said again. "There are leftovers on the stove. Go eat."

Daryl bit the inside of his mouth so he didn't chuckle at her.

"Ya gon' crawl around?" He asked.

Carol looked up at him from her new position.

"No…I'm just changing positions to get up. Leave me alone," she said.

Daryl gnawed at his lip and reached for her arm again before she yanked it away, almost toppling herself to the side. She sat back on her heels.

"I'm just fine! I don't want you touching me! I can get up without you touching me!" She barked.

Daryl nodded, not sure if he could go much longer without laughing. He wasn't entirely sure if he should just go eat and let her have her hissy fit or if he should insist on helping her and then let her have her hissy fit. He thought about a moment.

"Listen," he said. "I know ya can get up on ya own but'cha kinda top heavy an' I don't want'cha topplin' over in the damn process. Let me help ya up an' then ya can be just as damn sore about it as ya please, OK?"

"I can do it…" Carol said.

Daryl chuckled then and held his hand out to her once more.

"I know ya can," Daryl said. "I just don't want'cha to. Lemme help ya?"

He wiggled his hand at her and finally she sighed and took it.

"This doesn't mean I'm not mad," she said, as he pulled her up and let her gain her feet. As soon as she was standing, he went and picked up the cup and brush, realizing that Andrea's had disappeared and hoping she had taken it to the kitchen or something instead of leaving it somewhere for Lincoln to find later.

"I know it don't," Daryl said. "But'cha got no damn reason ta be mad. So Merle said ya was fat…hell he's been callin' ya fat for damn near six months now."

Daryl started through the house with the cup and the brush and when he got to the kitchen, aware that Carol was behind him, he tossed the cup in the trash can, found Andrea's and dropped it in there too, and started running the brushes under hot water before turning and looking over his shoulder at Carol who was leaning on the bar and sulking. He chuckled.

"Ya really that damn pissed about it or ya just in a mood?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes toward him and he knew that the answer didn't really matter as to why she was pissed…she was just pissed.

"You said I was fat too," Carol said.

Daryl shook his head, fighting the urge to growl at her.

"Ya kinda fat, OK?" He said. "I ain't sayin' it's bad an' I know it's 'cause a' the baby, but'cha is kinda fat. All them women with the signs in the pictures that say twenty four weeks ain't as big as you."

"I'm twenty five weeks," Carol corrected.

Daryl sighed.

"So see? Gotta be the week then," Daryl said.

He didn't know if a week made that much difference, but he'd do anything he could right now to take back the entire conversation. He knew, though, that Carol had a way of staying steamed up once she got going so it wasn't likely that she'd calm down over this one until at least bedtime…and even then it might be touch and go.

"The doctor didn't say I was fat," Carol said.

Daryl shrugged.

"Then ya ain't," he said. He knew if he let on that he wanted to choke her then she'd be really pissed, so he was trying to distract himself by thinking about other things. He put the washed on brushes on a paper towel by the sink to dry and went to fix himself some of the leftovers from where everyone else had eaten. "Food looks good," he said, hoping the compliment might distract his wife.

Carol didn't respond. Daryl heard her padding off, her bare feet slapping on the floor with a rhythm that indicated she was almost stomping. He turned quickly enough to see her heading to the bedroom. He decided to leave it alone, eat in whatever peace he could find, and try to soothe things over afterwards.

While he was eating, though, she padded back in the room, standing a couple of feet from his chair until he turned around to verify that she wasn't holding a butcher knife or anything of the like. She was just standing there, though.

"Can I help ya with somehtin'?" Daryl asked, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he continued to eat.

"I'm fat…" she said.

Daryl closed his eyes and prayed for some kind of deliverance from this nightmare. He swore never, ever again to use the word fat for any reason whatsoever if he could just find the way out of this trap.

"No ya not," he said.

"I am!" Carol said. "I just weighed myself…do you know how much I've gained since I got pregnant?"

Daryl knew there was no way on God's green Earth he was even daring to dream of answering that question.

"Porkchops is good," he said. "Want me ta save the bones for Lincoln?"

"No…he'll choke on them," Carol said. "How much do you think I've gained?"

Daryl looked at her. She looked caught somewhere between distraught and angry…and at the moment he thought he had a better chance of talking her down off a distraught ledge than an angry one. He wasn't going to answer that question.

"Fourteen pounds, Daryl," Carol said. "I have gained fourteen pounds!"

Daryl snickered. He didn't want to admit that he would have guessed a lot higher than that. He shrugged at her and polished off the last forkful of string beans, talking through the food.

"Baby," he said.

Carol shook her head.

"How much do you think our baby's going to weigh, Daryl?" Carol asked. She flapped her arms at him and he almost laughed. He shrugged again and swallowed, putting his fork on his plate and sitting back to stretch out and digest his food while Carol finished whatever she was going through.

"Fourteen pounds?" He ventured.

Carol narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm six months pregnant, Daryl…" she said. "I'm not even there…there's still time…she's not going to weigh fourteen pounds! It's not the baby, it's me!"

Daryl nodded his head slightly, not knowing what to say. He could remember having read something about weight gain, but he'd glossed over it, figuring that Mother Nature could handle something.

"How much was ya s'posed ta gain by now?" He asked.

Carol frowned.

"I don't know…" she said. "Probably…what? I don't know…maybe eight pounds or something."

Daryl recognized that her anger was melting away now, but it was replaced by a very distinct pout and he didn't want her crying if it could be avoided. They'd done pretty good to keep crying to a minimum and lately it'd only happened when she was happy about something…or when she watched those sappy damn movies about love and shit with Andrea and they hugged on the couch…or when that one toilet paper commercial came on with the puppies, though Daryl still didn't know why the hell she cried at that.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"So ya gained a lil' extra…that's only like what? Six pounds more…" he said, doing the math in his head. "It'll even out. Don't worry 'bout it. I'll smack Merle tomorrow for even bringin' that shit up."

Carol's frown didn't let up.

"I'm going to bed," she said. She turned and went directly to the side door, opening it, and Lincoln trotted inside, shaking like he was wet when he came in, probably not appreciating the cold. "Come on, Linc…" she called to the dog, heading off toward the bedroom.

"Ya just goin' ta bed?" Daryl called. "Takin' the dog an' leavin' me?"

"Lincoln doesn't care that I'm a cow," Carol called back.

"Jesus…" Daryl growled to himself.

He put his plate in the sink, put things away, and locked the door and turned off the lights. It was pretty early to be going to bed, but he figured that he might as well go in there and try to get her to be happy with him before she went to sleep.

Daryl knew she wasn't asleep. She wasn't snoring. Lincoln was lying beside her on the bed and he popped his head up at Daryl when he came in the room.

"Get down," Daryl commanded. The dog, who seldom listened to him, dropped his head and huffed.

Daryl stripped down to his underwear and got in the bed, shoving himself in the space that was left. He reached over and rubbed Carol's belly. Even though she was facing him, he couldn't see much of her except the slight glimmer of the outside light in her eyes.

"Ya ain't fat…an' even if ya gained a couple extra pounds, don't matter none," Daryl said. "Doc didn't say ya was fat an' didn't say they was nothin' wrong with Lil' Bit…an' ya done good on ya tests…so what do it matter? If it's just Merle's big ass mouth that's botherin' ya I can tell him he better keep it shut or I'll knock his teeth in."

Carol snickered, though Daryl knew it was in spite of herself.

"It only hurts my feelings because it's true," Carol said. "I didn't realize how much I'd gained. I thought it was just the baby."

Daryl poked at her belly.

"Feels like baby ta me," he said.

She batted his hand away and he snickered at her.

"Don't do that…ya gonna stir ya damn attack dog up an' he's gonna chew me up in my sleep," Daryl said.

Carol didn't respond.

"Ya ain't fat, woman," Daryl said. "An' if ya gain fourteen pounds or two hundred…ya gotta gain what the hell ya gotta gain for the baby. An' if ya gain a lil' extra for yaself…hell, reckon we can look the other damn way. Too damn skinny anyway."

Daryl moved his hand back to her belly and Carol put hers on top of his.

"You're only saying that because you don't want me to be mad at you," Carol said.

Daryl snickered.

"That's half the damn story of my life, I reckon," Daryl said. "But the other damn reason is 'cause I just don't give a shit an' I wish ya didn't neither. 'Sides, I kinda like the idea of ya bein' fluffy…an' if we gon' do this shit, we gon' do it all the damn way."

Carol blew her breath out noisily and Daryl sighed.

"Go ta sleep," he said. "Ya gon' feel better 'bout it in the mornin'…an' I'ma smack Merle one, that's for damn sure."

Carol snickered.

"I love ya, woman," Daryl said.

"Even if I'm fat?" Carol asked, squeezing his hand.

Daryl chuckled.

"More ta love, I reckon," he said.

"I love you too," Carol said with a sigh.

"I'll take it," Daryl said.