AN: Here's another chapter! I hope you enjoy!
Let me know what you think!
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Carol had texted Daryl before leaving work, asking what he wanted for dinner, and had held back the desire to say that she was simply exhausted and, honestly, didn't feel like cooking anything. She'd been relieved when he'd suggested, without the need for her to say that she'd be content to skip dinner to survive on popcorn alone, that he'd decided that a movie night wasn't complete without pizza, so he was picking up dinner.
As luck would have it, when he'd asked Carol what type of pizza she preferred, his preferences had mirrored her own. She hadn't been fooled, and she knew that he was likely just getting what she wanted, but she appreciated the gesture.
On the way home from work, she stopped by the store long enough to pick up some snacks that she thought might go well with a movie—a few kinds of assorted candy, some popcorn for popping on the stove, and soft drinks, which was something she rarely indulged in these days.
At the house, she showered and dressed casually. Daryl was supposed to be coming by after his own shower, declaring that he had to wash the day off before he felt like he could come over. Ahead of them was dinner, a movie, and a relaxing evening—that was the theme.
Carol's stomach was churning, though, with the thought that there were things they needed to talk about—things that Andrea had pressed her to put on the table with Daryl. She needed to come clean. She needed to be honest with Daryl.
When Daryl had arrived, pizza in hand and a few shopping bags looped over his wrist, he'd come with a smile on his face. He'd come bringing the smell of soap, shampoo, and food indulgence.
As soon as he'd put the pizza and his other spoils down, he'd approached Carol with open arms to request—something. He wanted a kiss or a hug, it was clear, but he was leaving it up to her to decide which. Seeing that, Carol's stomach had only complained more about its feelings.
Carol had kissed Daryl, and she'd offered him the best hug she could, but she'd admittedly felt a little stiff about things. Daryl had clearly noticed, too.
"What's wrong?" Daryl asked. "You OK?"
"I'm fine," Carol said. She put on the best smile she could, but it didn't feel sincere to her and it clearly didn't fool Daryl. He looked at her with a deeply furrowed brow.
She redirected his attention to the bags that he'd brought.
"What'd you bring?" She asked.
He didn't erase the furrow from between his brows, but he humored her by moving to the bags and beginning to unpack their contents.
"Got—this is mine, from home…" He put a composition book on the counter.
"A notebook?" Carol asked. Daryl hummed. "Do you write—poetry or something?"
Daryl laughed to himself.
"The or somethin'," he offered. "I don't think I'd be much of a poet. No—these are notes."
"Notes about…" Carol pressed.
Daryl seemed to have forgotten his concern over her mood for a moment and, honestly, Carol could feel some of the knots in her gut untangling themselves a little. Daryl opened the cover of his notebook and pushed it toward her. He flipped a couple of the pages. They were filled with scrawling handwriting written in ball point pen. Daryl's notebook certainly wasn't neat, but it appeared to be somewhat thorough.
"What is this?" Carol asked, smiling at the scrawl—and smiling mostly because Daryl was smiling.
"If you're gonna read a book…I don't know…seems like you oughta take notes," Daryl said.
"These are notes to…"
"Your books," Daryl said. He reached back in the one bag where he'd had the notebook, and he pulled out two of the books. "These are the only two I finished so far, but I figured we might wanna talk about some of it."
"You took notes?" Carol asked. The question, she recognized, was more a musing than a genuine question. Of course, he'd taken notes. They were right in front of her eyes. She could see, now that she knew what she was looking at, roughly how he'd gone about organizing them. He hummed at her in the affirmative. "About—what?"
"Shit I liked," Daryl said. "Mostly. The parts I thought were the best. A couple—you can see I got a couple questions. Some of 'em I answered myself, but it was the stuff I didn't really understand at first. Like—here—like I didn't understand, in the Scottish one? I didn't understand if he was even real, you know? Because a couple things they said made it sound like he weren't real."
"Like he was a ghost," Carol offered. Daryl smiled at her and nodded. "But he wasn't."
"No. It was her imagination runnin' away with her," Daryl said. "And all the legends they were tellin' her. He was kinda feedin' into it, though, I thought. I didn't like that part."
"I thought it was kind of romantic," Carol said. "It was the whole mystery thing."
"I get that," Daryl ceded. "But—the parts where he was kind feedin' into it felt like lyin' to me. So, I didn't like that part. He knew she was kinda—not knowin' which way was up, and he wasn't clearin' things up. I just—didn't like that part."
Carol recognized a familiar sensation that had come to her throughout the past days as she looked at Daryl. Her cheeks ached. Daryl smiled at her, warmly, in response.
"Because you're honest," Carol said. "And—you value honesty."
Daryl hummed in the affirmative and nodded. Carol's stomach, which had almost calmed entirely, felt like it practically knotted. She almost felt a little light headed. She knew she had to be honest with Daryl. She owed that much to him. After all, he had made it clear that he valued honesty and he tried his best to live his life by that value.
She promised herself she'd work up to it.
"What else do you have?"
"Oh—well—I just wanted to bring back the books that I finished. Brought my notebook. Stopped to pick a couple things up." He opened the other bag of items that he'd clearly picked up at the store. "Paper plates so there ain't no need for doin' dishes tonight. Napkins, too. And…" Daryl pulled out a box of condoms and put it on the counter. "I know it's a big box, but hear me out. Look at it. It's got like four different kinds in here to try. I thought—I could leave it here. If you don't like that, though, I can take it home. Up to you."
Carol reached and took the box. She read it over. She couldn't help somewhat laughing to herself. The box held twenty condoms, it advertised, of four different varieties. The back of the box boasted that all varieties were enhanced, in some way, for "her" pleasure.
Carol put the box on the counter.
"I can take it home," Daryl offered.
It took Carol a moment to even be able to gather the ability to look at him.
"No," she said. "It's not—that."
"But it's somethin'," Daryl said. Carol nodded her head. Suddenly, her stomach reacted more violently than it had before. Everything inside her caught with the expression on his face—the look in his eyes. "Go ahead. Might as well say it. Whatever you got to say."
"It might—ruin the evening," Carol said.
Daryl laughed to himself. The laughter wasn't sincere.
"Gonna ruin the fuckin' evenin' havin' this shit hangin' between us like this," Daryl said. "I don't like it. Feels like—an elephant's sittin' on my damn chest. So, whatever you got to say? I'd rather you just said it, if it's all the same to you."
"I don't know where to start," Carol said.
Daryl held his hand up, stopping her. She raised her eyebrows in question. That was all he needed.
"Just yes or no—are you about to…break up with me? Or—if you don't wanna say we're dating, because I know we haven't put no kinda name on it…and we don't gotta do that right now or, ever, if you don't wanna do that…"
"I'm not breaking up with you," Carol said quickly. His anxiety was palpable, and she didn't want to leave him falling further and further down the proverbial rabbit hole. He visibly relaxed. His shoulders slid back a half an inch. He let out a breath.
"Oh—OK," he said. "Then—let's talk about it."
Carol swallowed against the lump in her throat. Just like that, he seemed satisfied. He was here for pizza—pizza that they would likely eat cold if they ate it at all—and a movie. But he was just as equally here for a difficult conversation, if that's what the night held. In his demeanor, Carol saw that he didn't really mind either way.
Part of her brain asked her what she'd ever worried about. It asked her why she was worried, somewhere in her mind, even now. The other part of her brain knew the response, though, and reminded her that burying her thoughts under this moment of comfort would only make them come back later when she wasn't feeling so comfortable and reassured.
"You want a beer?" She asked. "A cigarette?"
"Do you?" Daryl asked.
"Yeah," she admitted. "I—kinda do."
"Then I'ma join you," Daryl said. He let her get the beers for both of them, though, and walked with her to the back porch where the chairs still sat right where they'd been. He put the pack of cigarettes and lighter between them, and Carol quickly lit one. "Must be one helluva conversation."
"I have to admit, Daryl—I feel kind of silly telling this to you now, but…I know that if I don't say it, it doesn't mean that it'll go away. And—I haven't been completely honest with you. And I want to be completely honest with you. So, I feel like—I have to say it."
"Then you better say it," Daryl said. "But you're makin' me nervous. Did I do somethin' wrong?"
"No," Carol said. "But I think—someone else did something wrong, and I assumed that you would do the same because they taught me that—that's how they would act. Maybe, they taught me that's how everyone would act."
"Ed?"
Carol hummed in the affirmative.
"Say it, Carol. Start wherever. Don't matter where you start."
Carol accepted his need for her not to drag things out.
"When I asked you to go home on Saturday, it wasn't because I had anything pressing to do on Sunday," Carol asked.
Daryl nodded his head. He wasn't looking at her for a moment. He lit the citronella candle, and focused a great deal on the woodgrain of the porch.
"You—just wanted some time to think or…read…or…?"
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"It feels stupid now," Carol said. "I feel—embarrassed. Now—it doesn't make sense."
Daryl hummed to himself.
"I guess we all been afraid of stupid shit," Daryl said. "Shit that turned out to be stupid. Go on."
"My flower—my pussy—was sore," Carol said.
"Does it—feel better now?" Daryl asked.
Carol laughed to herself.
"Yes," she said. "It does."
"Good," Daryl said.
"I—didn't really want to have sex after Saturday morning," Carol said.
"Because it was hurtin'," Daryl offered. Carol hummed. "But we didn't."
"I know," Carol said. "But that's when I told you that I had something to do on Sunday." She sighed. "I didn't really want you to go home. I mean—I told you to go home because it was better for you to go home, so I thought, but I was enjoying your company."
"I'm not gonna fuckin' lie, you got me just about turned around," Daryl offered. "If you didn't want me to leave, then why'd you tell me to leave?"
"Because—I didn't feel like having sex again," Carol said.
"Why the hell didn't you just say—I like you bein' here, but my pussy hurts an' I don't wanna have sex right now?"
Carol covered her mouth. Her eyes prickled at the words. Her chest tightened. Everything inside of her ached. She needed a moment to get control of herself. Daryl allowed her that, but he didn't allow it uninterrupted. His hand came over and squeezed the top of her arm.
"You OK? Shit—you cryin'? Over—Carol, what the hell's goin' on? For the love of everything, just tell me the damn truth an' spit it out…"
"I didn't think I could say that," Carol said. "I didn't think that—you could stay, and I could say that. I thought—no…I imagined…you would be upset. Angry."
"I told you a hundred times we didn't have to fuck if you didn't wanna fuck," Daryl said. "Hell—we still don't. And if you want me to take them condoms back, I'll take 'em back. Hell—I'll…give 'em to Merle. Get rid of 'em. You can put the whole thing outta your mind if that's what the hell you need right now."
"I know you said that…" Carol said. "I know you did…"
"But what? You don't believe me?"
Carol took a moment to stop choking on her feelings. She could barely stand to look at him. He looked pained. Betrayed, even. Her chest ached, and it only ached more when she saw his expression.
"I know, now, that my feelings were…wrong," Carol said.
"I don't understand what I did to make you think you couldn't tell me that you ain't wanted to have sex with me," Daryl said.
"It wasn't even that I didn't want to have sex with you," Carol said. "Or that I don't. Or that I want you to take the condoms back. It was just…then. That day."
"Because you didn't feel good," Daryl said. Carol mopped at her eyes and nodded her head. "You think—I'm not big enough to handle that? I don't want to hurt you. And if I did hurt you, then I'm sorry for that."
"No," Carol said. "I mean—I was sore, but…you didn't hurt me. Not—not like you hurt me, hurt me. I haven't…been with many men, and I haven't had sex in a long time. It was bound to be uncomfortable. Maybe it still is for a couple of times. I mean—I have to get used to it. You know. Like—if you do something physical that you haven't done in a while and your muscles are sore."
Daryl was staring at her.
"I guess I still don't understand why you thought you couldn't tell me that," Daryl said.
"Because Ed didn't like to hear the word no," Carol said. "And—if I told him that I didn't want to? He would be pissed off about it. It made everything a thousand times worse. It made the atmosphere in our home unbearable. It made him pissed off at every little thing—and I knew how that was going to end. And if he didn't want to hear no bad enough? He took what he wanted anyway."
Daryl was staring at her, brows tightly knit, gnawing at his cuticle. He had turned almost entirely sideways in his chair. Carol could barely stand to hold his eyes, but she didn't want to look away, either.
"Shit," he said, finally. "I'm sorry, Carol. For that—for him. And—if I knew him…but did you think that's what the hell I was gonna do? Because—if you did? Then you must think I'm a first-class asshole."
"No," Carol breathed out. "No—I don't think I really would've thought that about you. I don't think I did."
"But the fear is still there?" Daryl asked. Carol half shrugged and nodded.
"I knew that—with Ed? Most of the time I just gave him what he wanted. Whether I wanted it or not. It just made things…easier. Just—take it, and it'll be over soon and everything else can be avoided or…at the very least…minimized. On Saturday—when I was thinking that I wasn't really…you know…feeling like doing it again? I thought about the fact that, if that's what you wanted, I could just…let it happen."
"That's the last damn thing I'd want you to do," Daryl said. "Just in case you're wonderin' about my feelings on it. I don't wanna fuck you when you don't want me to. I don't wanna fuck you when you're just thinking…oh hell, just let him get this over with."
"I know," Carol said. "And I think—I knew that, then. But I didn't trust myself to tell you what I wanted. I didn't trust myself to—stick with it. So, I asked you to leave so that I wouldn't…lie to you. And I wouldn't have sex with you that…I didn't want. And I guess I lied to you because I didn't tell you the whole truth."
Daryl lit another cigarette for himself and turned to sit normally in the rocking chair. He nursed his beer and stared out at the yard like it was a beautiful view instead of a plain backyard in need of a mowing.
"Please say something," Carol said, finally.
"What do you want me to say?" Daryl asked.
"Anything," Carol said. "Daryl—I'm sorry. Say anything…anything you want to me. I'll hear it."
"I bet you will," Daryl mused. "In fact—I bet you've heard a lot. Enough."
"What does that mean, Daryl?"
"It means—I'm glad you were honest with me," Daryl said with a sigh. "But—I'ma ask you to be more honest with me, Carol. Otherwise—I won't feel like I can trust you."
"You can trust me…"
"Not if you gonna lie to me, I can't," Daryl said. "Not if I gotta wonder if—if every time we're fuckin' you're really wishin' we weren't. I'm not Ed, Carol."
"I know you're not," Carol said.
"But sometimes you forget. He's been with you a long damn time."
"I'm sorry," Carol said. "I'm so sorry…I shouldn't…should I have told you?"
"The last thing I want is you thinkin' that you shouldn't have told me 'cause you don't want me upset," Daryl said. "Shit—that's the same thing. You see that? I can't promise that not a damn thing is ever gonna upset me. I can't. I'm as human as any damn body. But—I can promise that I ain't Ed. And whether I get upset or not, I wanna know the truth. Your truth."
Carol nodded and wiped at her eyes.
"OK," she said. "If it comes up again. If you want—whatever—something in the future? I will promise you my truth."
"That's all I'm askin'," Daryl said. He fell into quiet contemplation.
"If you want to go home," Carol said. "You can take the pizza. You shouldn't have to make dinner or buy something else just because I ruined your evening."
"You want me to go?" Daryl asked. "Is that your—truth?"
"You don't want to go?" Carol asked. "I thought you'd be upset."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Hell—I been upset before. I'ma be upset again. But if you don't want me to leave, the quickest damn way I know to feel better would be to eat pizza. Watch a movie. Maybe sit together on the couch—just sit together. But if you want me to leave…"
"I don't want you to leave," Carol said. "I don't. And that's—the absolute truth."
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AN: So, we have a two-part date night.
I hope you enjoyed the first part. Let me know what you think!
