The Spare Room

Summary: The bills keep piling up and if Daryl Dixon has any hope of improving his life, he and his brother are going to have to find someone to fill their spare room. The problem is that while he can't stand his new roommate, he finds himself falling for his roommate's girlfriend. Caryl. AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters that you recognize from the Walking Dead.

Chapter 9

Daryl always found an excuse to get the hell out of dodge whenever Ed brought Carol over. He went to bed, he went for walks, he ran to the store…anything to keep his distance. He couldn't help the fact that each time he saw her, he wanted to be around her and he wanted to knock Ed out just so he'd get the chance to bask in her attention. He felt that it was better to leave them to whatever they did for the small amount of time that it took for them to do it. He wasn't in the business of stealing anyone's girlfriend, even a bastard like Ed. Besides, he figured that whatever it was that he felt for Carol would fade away if she was out of sight.

Except the problem was that even if she was out of sight, she wasn't out of his mind.

He missed talking to her. She was easy to talk to and he felt like he could tell her about anything. He missed her kind smile and the way it seemed like her eyes would light up if she was particularly happy. The worst was when he had to listen to the sex on the other side of the wall. Carol was quiet in bed. Most of the time it sounded like Ed was having sex with himself. There were times when Daryl was able to ignore Ed's voice and focus solely on Carol's whenever Ed asked one of his asinine questions. Carol would respond with a breathy 'yours' and Daryl imagined that she was saying it to him instead of her asshole boyfriend. The first time that happened, Daryl felt dirty for becoming aroused. He tried to shrug it off. He hadn't been laid in a while.

He remedied that on the Saturday after the whole debacle with Ed's jealousy. Daryl actually went out with Merle and was able to use his almost healed ankle as a means to get a little sympathy sex. That hadn't even helped. Yes, both him and the girl got off, but he had a feeling that she hadn't appreciated it when he grunted the wrong name during climax. Needless to say that he wasn't doing that again.

Worse than that, Kevin seemed to take a perverse pleasure in forgetting his lunch so that they could stop at the Harvest Garden, forcing Daryl into the presence of the woman he was trying to avoid.

And dammit all, Daryl lived for those visits when Carol would take his order and then when she'd stay and talk with him for a moment or two. She always had a smile on her face, even when it was obvious that she had just come off of a busy rush or she had spilt someone's cola on her apron. He was able to learn more about her during those minutes. He knew that she had a sister named Catherine that she was fond of. He knew that she broke her wrist when she was fourteen and that sometimes she had trouble carrying a lot of plates because of it. He knew that she had her own garden. He liked those moments when he could talk to her without competing with Ed for her attention.

Therefore, when he and Kevin were working late one evening, Daryl didn't object at all when Kevin suggested that they grab supper at the Harvest Garden. He knew that sometimes Carol worked the supper shift, something that he had heard Ed complain about far too often. They pulled into the parking lot and Daryl's eyes widened a little when he saw Carol standing next to her car, a distressed look on her face as she peered down at her tire. She was still wearing that red apron over her clothes. When Kevin put the truck in park, Daryl chose to ignore his hunger and walk across the parking lot.

"Hell of a flat," Daryl observed, making the redhead jump and spin around.

"Daryl! Kevin!" Carol exclaimed, relief overtaking her features, "I just came out and found it like this," she said, gesturing to her car. It was a green sunfire and the driver's side wheel was completely flat.

"Musta picked up a nail or somethin'," Daryl said, kneeling down to inspect the tire.

"Great," Carol groaned, "I was supposed to pick up my sister at drama practice at six. What am I going to do?"

"Ya got a spare? A jack?" Daryl asked.

"I don't know," Carol fretted, "I've never had a flat before."

"Pop your trunk. If it's anywhere, it's probably there," Daryl directed her. She did as he asked and he set to work, locating a jack, a tire iron, and a donut tire. He set each item out on the pavement and offered, "I can change ya tire for ya if ya need."

"You'd do that?" Carol asked, relief and gratitude playing on her face.

"Sure he would," Kevin volunteered with a grin, "That's Daryl, always helping out damsels in distress.

"Shut up, Kev," Daryl sighed at his friend before grabbing the jack and placing it in the appropriate spot.

"How do you know where to put it?" Carol asked, kneeling down beside him. Daryl glanced over his shoulder at her. He hadn't come across too many women who took an interest in fixing cars, but he figured that any woman ought to know these sort of things.

"There's a groove on the frame for it," Daryl told her, "There's one by each wheel. Ya put the jack under and crank it up."

He cranked the lever until the car was raised enough and then he set to work untightening the lug nuts, saying, "Ya do it staggered like. That way, ya can get 'em all off without the tire leaning one way or another. Makes it easier."

Then he pulled the flat tire off the studs and set it aside. He reached for the donut and pushed it onto the studs to begin the process of putting it on.

"Why is that tire so small?" Carol asked.

"It's a donut," Kevin explained, "It's a smaller spare tire that fits better in the trunks of these smaller cars."

"Ya can't drive very fast on 'em," Daryl added, screwing the lug nuts back on the studs by hand before tightening them with the tire iron, "but it'll get ya back to town and do ya until ya can get ya tire fixed proper."

"Okay, I-"

Carol was interrupted by a sharp gust of wind that banged the sign for the restaurant against the door. Daryl cringed at the sound and Kevin shook his head.

"I thought the damn weatherman said that we were supposed to get a nice night?" he groused, shaking his head.

"Ya should know by now that the bastard on 880 is a damn liar," Daryl pointed out as he pushed back his hair to keep the wind from blowing it out of his face as he worked to tighten the lug nuts, "Somethin' tells me we ain't workin' late tonight."

"Not unless you want chemical in the face," Kevin agreed, "Well that's alright. Mom's makin' roast tonight and as good as the Harvest Garden is, nothing beats Mom's roast."

"So I've heard," Daryl responded, chuckling.

"So have I," Carol concurred. Daryl focused on his task, but stilled when he heard Kevin's next bright idea.

"You know, I could just take the spray truck home and Daryl could catch a ride with you, Carol."

Daryl turned back to look at Kevin and asked, "What?"

"I don't live all that far away," Kevin ventured, "I could take the truck home and then you could go back to town with Carol. I could meet you at the shop tomorrow morning."

"Kev…" Daryl warned, looking for an excuse to use to protest the plan, "Carol's gotta pick up her sister."

"You could go with her," Kevin suggested, "Make sure Carol gets back to town safe. You never know with the donuts and you are a good mechanic."

Sometimes Daryl hated how it seemed that Kevin had an answer for damn near everything. There was no way that Daryl could protest Kevin's response without sounding like an uncaring jackass. He turned to Carol and said, "I could if ya want."

Carol nodded her head, "That'd be nice."

0-TSR-0

Carol puttered along the road, feeling silly for going so slow, but Daryl insisted that doing anything above thirty miles per hour on a donut tire was asking for trouble. She glanced over at her travelling companion, who was sitting with his elbow hanging out of the open window while he gnawed on his thumbnail. She hadn't been alone with him since that day out in the yard. She got the distinct feeling that he was avoiding her. Why else would he disappear whenever Ed brought her by the house? She felt bad for making him feel uncomfortable in his own home when he was nothing but kind to her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. Daryl twisted his head to look over at her, a perplexed look on his face.

"What're ya sorry for? Ain't no big thing, changin' a tire," he told her.

"I meant for before," Carol clarified, "Things have been kind of…I don't know…weird since the argument in the backyard. I'm sorry for causing trouble like that and I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable since then."

Daryl stared at her for a moment, blinking rapidly as he processed what she had said. Then he shook his head and replied, "Ain't nothin' for ya to apologize for. Ya didn't cause no damn trouble. Ya just asked a question."

"It was inappropriate-"

"Weren't no big thing," Daryl interrupted her, firmly repeating, "Ya didn't cause no damn trouble."

Carol was silent for a moment, not really believing his words, but appreciating that he was trying to make her feel better about the situation. It was sweet that he was trying to reassure her, but at the same time, she had to wonder, "Are you sure I haven't done anything to make you uncomfortable?"

"Why would ya ask that?" Daryl asked, deflecting the question.

"It just…well, it seems that you disappear whenever I come over," Carol ventured, "And we hardly ever speak unless I'm working. I guess…I don't know. I guess I just thought that I might have done something."

Carol regretted the words when she saw the expression on Daryl's face. He looked almost pained, but then in an instant, the look was replaced by the flat expression that he often wore around her. It was the one that he wore when Merle teased him or he was annoyed by Kevin. She was starting to realize that it was a mask.

"Ain't nothin' ya done," Daryl spoke slowly and carefully, "Figured ya wanted ya space and all."

"Why?" Carol asked before she could help herself, watching him out of the corner of her eye. His mask seemed to be firmly in place.

"You're with Ed," he said simply, "Figured he's the one ya came to be around."

Carol frowned at his words because that's what she kept telling herself in the week and a half that it had been since the backyard incident. She kept telling herself that she only went to the house to see Ed even though on multiple occasions, she found that she kept looking around for the youngest Dixon brother. It wasn't proper, of course, to be looking at another man while she was visiting with her boyfriend. Still, it bothered her that Daryl thought that way and she didn't quite know why.

"That may be, but you're still a friend, Daryl," she said softly. She glanced over at him and saw that the mask had cracked a little. She saw plain surprise on his face and she wondered for a moment if she had overstepped her bounds. She clarified, "That's what we are, right?"

He looked at her for a moment and she almost missed the soft expression when she turned to watch the road.

"Yeah," he answered, making her smile. She glanced at him again out of the corner of her eye and noted that he had turned to look out the window. He seemed to be thinking and Carol didn't want to disturb him. She focused on the road and was a bit thankful when the town came into view. With a glance at her dash, she noted that she was fifteen minutes late for picking up Catherine. She shook her head.

"Cath's gonna kill me," she said, "Fifteen minutes late."

"Could be worse," Daryl shrugged, looking thankful for the shift in conversation, "When I was a kid, it was a treat if anyone came to pick me up. I walked damn near everywhere."

"Catherine would normally walk, but she's painting some props for the play at the church and she didn't want to carry them all home," Carol explained, "She's always been the artistic one."

"Ain't got an artistic bone in my body," Daryl replied with a chuckle.

"Me neither," Carol laughed, turning down Kennedy Street, "I'd be lucky if I could draw a stickman."

"Same," Daryl said, his eyes alert as he watched her pull in front of the church. Catherine was waiting there on the bench in front, large plywood cut-outs and grocery bags of painting supplies sitting beside her.

"This might get loud," Catherine warned Daryl as she got out of the car to greet her sister, "Hey, Cath."

"What took you so long?" Catherine complained, "It's windy out and it looks like it could storm."

"Had a flat tire," Carol explained showing her sister the tire, "Sorry."

"That sucks," Catherine observed, "Who's he?" she asked, looking at Daryl, who had stepped out of the car. He wore the same shy expression that he had worn when Carol first met him.

"This is Daryl Dixon," Carol introduced, "He helped me fix my tire. He's Ed's roommate. Daryl, this is Catherine, my sister."

"Nice to meet ya," Daryl said, his hands buried in his pockets, which seemed to make his bare arms flex a little.

"Same here," Catherine replied, her eyes wide as she took Daryl Dixon in for the first time. Carol knew what was going through her sister's head. She herself had thought the same things when she had first met Daryl. He was a very attractive man with the way his hair hung into those thoughtful blue eyes of his. He had a nice, shy smile that seemed sweet, yet the stubble around his chin and jaw made him look rugged. Today, he was dressed in a dark green muscle shirt that showed off his tanned, muscular arms, and a pair of worn dark jeans with holes all over.

"I'm going to give Daryl a ride home after I drop you off at home," Carol informed her sister, "You might be a little squished in the back with all of the props and stuff. I can't put it in the truck because that's where we put the flat tire."

"Oh, I'll manage," Catherine said, smiling brightly, "It's not that far. I just need some help getting this stuff in the car."

"No problem," Daryl offered, moving to go pick up the props for Catherine. Before she and Carol rounded the car to help him, Catherine grabbed Carol's arm.

"So that's the guy that Ed was jealous over?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yeah," Carol answered, "but don't bring that up."

"I won't, but wow," Catherine said as the sisters watched Daryl bend over to pick up the supplies, "I can see why Ed was jealous."

"Catherine," Carol warned through clenched teeth.

"What?" Catherine said innocently, "Look at him. He blows Leo DiCaprio out of the water."

Carol laughed at this, "And here I thought Leo was unsinkable in your eyes, Cath."

"He just got sunk," Catherine confirmed, her eyes glued to the straining biceps of Daryl Dixon as he transferred his armload of supplies to the backseat. Carol followed her gaze and for a moment, she wondered what it would be like to be in those arms. She wondered what they'd feel like…if they'd be rock hard or if they would feel soft under her touch. She felt her body flush and then she shook her head.

Daryl was her friend. She shouldn't think of him that way, especially seeing as how he was living with her boyfriend. She shook it off and moved to help him arrange things in the car so Catherine would be comfortable.

TBC

AN: So I had this chapter done a week ago and in a case of life imitating art, I had myself a flat tire a couple days after I wrote that scene. Somehow I think Carol's going to have an easier time of getting her tire fixed than I will with mine. On the plus side, Catherine approves of Daryl and Carol is starting to feel an attraction for her new friend.

Please let me know what you think so far! Thank you for all of the wonderful and kind support!