*I know it's short but you guys know what's coming up and I have to build some suspense for you. Thank you so much for the reviews. This is my first fanfic that's broken 100 reviews! I love you guys so much!*

He always smelled like gun oil after hunting. Gun oil and blood because, even though he always washed off at the spicket outside of the trailer, it clung to his skin. He made his way in from hunting and hung his rifle on the rack above the couch before making his way into the bedroom and dropping on the bed next to her. Georgia was typing furiously on the laptop, her brow furrowed and her pouted lips mouthing words silently.

"Who's gotchur panties in a twist, Georgia Rayne?" Daryl asked, leaning over to peek at the laptop screen. His disgust with technology didn't extend to anything Georgia did.

"This professor is a complete and utter fucking idiot!" she snapped. "I've emailed him six times with the exact same paper and now he emailed me thinking I'm going to meet with him to discuss it. No! I've heard stories! How that man hasn't been prosecuted for sexual harassment escapes me! I mean, Merle's slime and he's bad about it but at least he's honest! At least with Merle you know to dodge because that big gross hand is going to grope at you! But this guy! This guy's a professor! He's supposed to be classy and intelligent. Ugh!"

"He hittin' on ya?" Daryl demanded, his face sliding into anger quickly. "Thought takin' classes online meant fuckers couldn' hit on ya."

Georgia's face softened and she leaned over to press her lips to his quickly. "Daryl, hon, he's not hitting on me. Nobody is. This guy's just a complete skeaze and I am not meeting with him. He can email about my paper. Besides, it's practically perfect."

"Course it is," Daryl growled. "Ya did it! What the fuck does he need to talk to ya bout?"

"Nothing! He can shove his meeting up his ass!"

"That's right! Ya ain't gotta drive out there. Anyhow, ya can't!"

Georgia froze and her eyebrow lifted. She demanded, "I can't?"

"Cause I'm fixin' yer brakes this week," he backtracked quickly. "Not cause I'm stoppin' ya. I don' never stop ya from doin' nothin'."

She grinned again and shut her laptop with more force than necessary. She announced, "Fuck schoolwork for today!"

"Fuck it?" Her devotion to schoolwork was frustratingly adorable.

"Fuck it!" she repeated. "How was hunting? You smell like blood so you must have gotten something."

"Don' smell like blood, crazy," he denied.

She laughed and wriggled from a sitting position to laying on her back so that Daryl stared down at her. He adjusted his own body so that he was on his side next to her with his head propped up on his hand. He rested his free hand across her abdomen.

"You do. Blood and gun oil."

"I kin get a real quick shower."

"No, I like it. It's sexy. Turns me on. My man, out there, providing our dinner, killing things, being all strong and sexy."

Daryl rolled his eyes and she dragged his head down to kiss him soundly. He murmured, "I kin get a quick shower, Georgia Rayne."

"Or, or you could just get naked and we can shower after."

"Carol, you have to stop pacing," Georgia Rayne scolded from the couch. "They're going to be fine. They're going to be back soon."

"You have so much faith for someone with so much to lose," Andrea grunted, her eyes scraping over DJ's sleeping form. He was sprawled out across the couch and his head rested in his mother's lap.

"Daryl will be back. Trust me. That man's a dog with a bone when he wants something and, right now, he wants to find out what happened out there and he wants to make sure his son is safe," Georgia promised. She trailed her fingers through DJ's hair and he shuddered in his sleep. Carol smiled for a second before she resumed her pacing.

"Yer awful calm fer a woman cleanin' guns just an hour ago," Maggie spoke up.

"Cleaning guns doesn't have anything to do with being frazzled. It's a precaution. So that we're ready for everything. Now calm down. You're going to get my nerves irritated."

Not five minutes later, Daryl rushed through the door and, as Georgia was about to tell Andrea she told her so, he demanded, "Where's Rick an Shane? They ain't back yet?"

Glenn followed him in and Daryl proceeded to tell them about Randall the walker. As he spoke, Georgia shook DJ awake carefully and pressed a finger to her lips. She nodded her head towards the kitchen and he complied, leaving the room while the attention was focused elsewhere. As Lori begged Daryl to find Shane and Rick, Georgia rose to follow him and Daryl noticed her movement. He promised, "I'll go back out in jus a second. Needa talk to Georgia real quick."

She nodded over her shoulder and he followed her into the kitchen. DJ was sitting on the floor against the wall, his eyes sliding closed slowly. Daryl ordered, "Get him woke up. Gotta feelin' somethin' bad's comin' an I want him ready to move."

"We'll both be ready to move," she replied. "What are you thinking about Shane?"

"Don' know right now. Thinkin' he let Randall go. Thinkin' one a 'em ain't comin' back alive. Ain't sure which one it's gonna be but I'm gonna hope on Rick. Gonna head out an try to find 'em, make that a reality. If things go south, don' wait fer me to get back. Head out an get safe. I'll come find ya."

"I will." He turned to leave and she caught his arm to spin him back around.

"What, Georgia Rayne?" She didn't answer him. She only raked her eyes across his face and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips quickly.

"Now ain't the time fer that," he scolded when she pulled away.

"Might not have time for it later, Daryl. Go out and find Rick. I'm going to wake our son up and get him ready."

He nodded and made his way towards the door but paused at the frame as she turned towards DJ. He let loose an exasperated sigh, turned, and stomped back over to her. The thick thud of his boots on the floor caught her attention and, when she turned back around, he was almost on top of her. He growled, "Gonna be time fer it later, understand that, woman!"

And then he smashed his mouth to hers hard. He pulled away and left without another word, leaving Georgia smirking in his wake before calling out, "Wakey, wakey, DJ. We're on the move in ten."

DJ grumbled under his breath but pulled himself up from the wall and grabbed his duffel bag from under the table. With a voice eerily similar to Daryl's low growl, he asked, "When are we going to be in one place?"

"When we can, hon. Now shake a leg." She handed him her .22 and looped her arm over his shoulders to lead him into the living room just as Daryl came back into the house with his shoulders slumped.

He commanded, "Drop the duffel an get ready. Shit's about to hit the fan."