AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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As the meal progressed, Carol felt herself relaxing more and more. She couldn't attribute it to the beer. One beer wasn't too much for her, it certainly wasn't problematic when coupled with a meal, and she hadn't even finished half of it by the time she'd finished her salad.
It wasn't the beer that made her relax. It was Daryl.
And the moment that she realized that, her pulse picked up like a message to her that she was right—even if such a thought was a little bit terrifying. Carol meant to keep her guard up but, for some reason, it simply kept slipping. And, so far, Daryl hadn't made her regret any of the slippage.
Dinner conversation had covered that Daryl was working on a plumbing problem and was going to have to replace damaged wood that would essentially leave him rebuilding a bathroom cabinet. Carol shared with Daryl how her day had gone—which was pretty uneventfully. She told him about the person who came by, claiming to be writing a book about the best dining establishments in Georgia, and then asked exactly what she could have for free, given that she was considering the café as one of her possible chapters. Jacqui's response had been polite, in that it had included no actual expletives, but Carol doubted that they were to be featured in the likely non-existent book.
As the meal was winding down, Daryl asked Carol if she wanted to join him on the porch for an after-dinner cigarette. She simply nodded her agreement and followed him. He poured himself a glass of water to take with him, and Carol took the remaining half of her beer.
On the porch, Daryl lit the citronella candle before he lit his cigarette, and he stretched his back dramatically before he sat in the chair that had seemingly become "his" for the past few times they'd sat on the porch.
"That was damn good," Daryl mused. "Damn good."
Carol couldn't help but smile.
"It's an easy recipe," Carol said. "It's not like it was—complicated or involved. It wasn't much of anything, really."
Daryl looked at her for a minute. Then he nodded his head.
"That's another thing we got in common," he said.
"What?" Carol asked.
"It's hard to know how to take a compliment when you ain't used to hearin' them. Or, worse, when you're used to someone tearin' into every damn little thing you do. I'm gonna guess that Ed weren't often pleased with what you put on his plate."
"He was very specific about what he wanted to eat," Carol said. "It was almost like—ordering a meal. He put in his order, before work, for lunch. He'd call during the day to order dinner. Sometimes he would complain that—there was never anything new or exciting for dinner, but…if I made anything new…" Daryl nodded his head as he rocked in the chair. Carol licked her lips. "Even though I made what he wanted, it was never right. The meatloaf was too dry, the spaghetti sauce had too much spice, the eggs were overcooked or undercooked. I thought I couldn't cook at all. I took a cooking class here at the Y. I sort of figured out—I did OK."
"And now you've got a successful business where you feed people good food. None of that—any shit he had to say—was about you. I've eaten a lot of your cooking," Daryl offered. "Hope to eat more of it. You've done damn good with everything I've eat." He held his hand up at her. "I know it feels awkward as shit, but just try this—just…say thank you."
Carol was surprised at the uneasiness that settled in her stomach over the idea of simply responding to such a statement with thanks, but she accepted it. She nodded at Daryl.
"Thank you," she said sincerely. The smile that followed was practically involuntary, especially since Daryl looked so pleased by the simple thanks. He relaxed into his chair again.
Carol sat back, meaning to enjoy the quiet for a moment, but there was something that had been nagging at her—in the back of her mind—for most of the day. It was silly, and she'd pushed it down and shoved it back every time it had popped up. It kept popping up, though. Finally, she sucked in a breath and decided to deal with it.
"Can I ask you something?" Carol asked.
"I hope so," Daryl mused. "Otherwise—conversation's gonna run out eventually."
"I'm serious," Carol said.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Me too," he said. "I don't always know what to talk about. Like it just runs out, you know? Runs dry—sometimes right in the middle of things. If you're askin' me shit, it keeps things going." He sat up and looked at Carol. "What is it? You can ask me whatever you wanna know."
"I went by the office today," Carol said. "Your workplace."
"I know," Daryl said. "You told me and, besides that, Ty asked me about it when I got back, and my brother told me this evening that he saw you there."
"Merle was there?"
"He said you didn't see him, but he saw you," Daryl said. "Is that your question?"
"No," Carol said. Her stomach churned a little with the question. She wondered, all at once, why she cared—but she did care. She wondered what Daryl would think of her question. She worried, even, about his response. It was silly, but she had to ask it now. She'd already started this, and Daryl would be able to tell if she simply tried to make up a question to ask him to fill in the space. Besides, if she didn't ask him, it would still bother her, whether she wanted it to or not. "When Ty told me where you were, he said…he said you were working for your girlfriend today."
Daryl laughed to himself and lit another cigarette.
Carol had no reason to ask him to explain himself. She had no reason to have felt the gnawing feeling in her gut since Tyreese had said what he said—she had no reason to feel it now. She had no right to have any expectation at all, perhaps, of Daryl.
Still, she'd felt genuinely struck by the word, and the possibility behind it.
"You askin' me if I—got a girlfriend?" Daryl asked.
"Don't you think that's the kind of thing that you should mention?"
Daryl raised his eyebrows at her.
"Don't you think it's the kinda thing I would mention?" Daryl asked.
Carol's heart was drumming in her chest.
"I feel like you would…"
"Can I ask you somethin'?" Daryl asked, moving directly into the question before he'd even waited for Carol to acknowledge him. "Ed ever cheat on you?"
"I'm sure he did," Carol said. "I mean—I don't have proof or anything like that. I know he wasn't happy with me, though. Honestly, sometimes I was just happy if he wasn't home. I'm sure some of that was time spent cheating, though."
"But he liked havin' you," Daryl said. "Havin' you there as a possession. For when he wanted you."
"I guess that's it," Carol said.
"I don't have an interest in that," Daryl said. "I don't wanna collect people. Hell—I don't even like people that damn much to want to have a whole collection of 'em. And—I do like you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."
"I thought you would mention it, but it's not crazy to think that you would have a girlfriend, Daryl," Carol offered. "I mean—I'm kind of surprised you don't."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"I told you—they don't really last for me. Every one of 'em—I'm just the wrong kinda man, maybe."
"Or they were the wrong kind of woman," Carol said. She squirmed a little in her chair. Her instinct screamed at her. She was flirting—hard. She was wrapped up in the sensation that hearing Tyreese call some woman his girlfriend had created. She didn't dare to put a name to that feeling, but she knew that by refusing it a name, that's all she was doing—refusing to call it what it was. She knew what it was…and it scared her.
Carol wasn't accustomed to feeling jealous.
It scared her because, even in admitting to herself that she had such feelings, she was admitting that Daryl had the ability to control some of her feelings. She'd let her guard down, and he'd already slipped behind the barrier to some degree.
Daryl hummed to himself. If he recognized what she was going through, and everything she was feeling, he wasn't anxious to press her or make her feel more uncomfortable.
"Maybe," he said.
"Well?" Carol pressed.
"Well, what?" Daryl asked.
"Are you going to—expand upon your answer to my question? Because that wasn't a whole answer."
"Weren't it?" Daryl asked. He laughed to himself. "Tyreese was givin' you hell. Givin' me hell, really. I was workin' for Agnes today. He calls her my girlfriend."
"Agnes?" Carol asked.
"Agnes," Daryl confirmed. "He calls her my girlfriend 'cause she's got somethin', just about, that needs lookin' at every week."
"Are you sure it's not just—to see you?" Carol asked.
"I do think she gets lonely," Daryl said. "And I'm sure she don't exactly hate to see me, but her house is kinda old. Little shit goes wrong and she don't know how to fix it. She's got me in there for nickel and dime jobs. I can usually fix her problems on my way to other jobs. Anyway, she's all the time callin' and askin' for me. If Ty tries to send her someone else, she gets mad about it. So, he took to callin' her my girlfriend and got everybody in there doin' the same thing."
"It sounds like she likes you," Carol said.
Daryl laughed.
"I think Agnes likes me alright," Daryl offered. "She don't mind me in her house and—she likes to tell me about her life. Thing is—Agnes has been livin' her life for like a hundred years. She's old enough to be my grandma, Carol. Hell—maybe my great grandma for all I know."
Carol felt a flood of relief wash over her.
"Agnes is old?"
"You think some lil' young thing baked cookies for my wife?" Daryl asked. "Besides—it's pretty damn evident that she thinks I'm married. At least, she does as of today. I mean—I didn't set her straight. Mostly because I'm not sure she'll remember anything she don't want to remember or didn't come up with herself. But if you want me to tell her she was wrong…"
"What harm does it do?" Carol mused. Daryl hummed in response.
"I don't suppose it does any harm," Daryl said.
"The cookies were good," Carol offered.
Daryl laughed.
"I'm glad you enjoyed 'em. Glad you ate 'em, really."
"I shared them with Andrea," Carol admitted. "But I did eat some of them."
"I'll tell Agnes," Daryl said. "She'll be thrilled that you liked her cookies. You—uh—thought of anything you might wanna do tonight?"
"I thought you had a game planned?"
"That don't mean we can't be flexible if somethin' else has come to mind."
"I want to hear what you have planned," Carol pressed.
"I figured you would say that," Daryl said. "Well—I was googlin' shit to do on dates…"
"You googled what to do on dates?"
"Damn sure did," Daryl said.
"You really did?"
"Needed some ideas," Daryl said with a laugh. "Anyway, I liked the one that was talkin' about simple games. Now—one of the ideas was strip poker, but I vetoed that one."
"I don't know how to play poker anyway," Carol admitted. "Ed used to play it, but…I never learned."
"It don't matter," Daryl said. "I vetoed it for my own damn good. Since I already said no to anything happenin' tonight—I didn't wanna put myself through some kinda torture."
Carol rocked up and faced Daryl. It was difficult to see him. It was growing dark and the light of the citronella candle only did so much.
"You're the one that said no tonight," Carol said. "You could—change your mind."
"Lemme ask you somethin'," Daryl said. "Do you kinda want me to change my mind? It ain't gonna hurt my feelings either way. Just—do you at least kinda want me to change it?"
Carol considered it. Her cheeks burned warm, but something else in her body vied for attention as well.
"I do," she said.
Daryl hummed.
"And do you kinda feel a little disappointed if I tell you that I'm stickin' to what I said, and I won't—I'm not gonna have sex with you tonight?"
"I do," Carol admitted.
"Does it make you angry?"
"No. Not—angry."
"Make you wanna—lash out at me? Yell at me? Call me a son of a bitch?"
Carol laughed to herself.
"No."
"Make you want to hit me?" Daryl asked. "Claw my eyes out or some shit?"
Carol's stomach twisted at the thought.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Make you wanna—force me to fuck you?"
"I—don't know how to answer that," Carol said, shuddering. "I don't even want to think about something like that, Daryl."
"But you were taught to think about it," Daryl said. "To expect it, right? You were taught that—that's how the hell it makes people feel. How it makes 'em think. What it makes 'em do. You were taught that—just hearin' that someone ain't wanted to fuck, when you did, it was liable to cause all that shit."
Carol's stomach twisted and her chest ached. It was harder to get in a full breath for a moment. But she appreciated what Daryl was saying.
"I was," she admitted.
Daryl smiled at her from across the little table where the candle flickered.
"You see now it's bullshit. It ain't fatal. Might be uncomfortable. Disappointing. You ain't gonna lose your mind because of it, though. Ain't gonna go insane. Won't lose all control and do some heinous shit, Carol. Not because of some little 'no' like that. If someone was to go insane? It wouldn't be because of the 'no,' or even the disappointment. It would be because there was already something wrong in their head. No is just a word."
"I think I understand what you're saying," Carol said.
"Good," Daryl said. "That means you won't be scared of it the next time that—you feel like you wanna say it. I might be disappointed, but that don't mean nothin' more than that. I mean—I'ma hope you mean 'no' like 'not right now, maybe definitely sometime in the future', but that's it..."
"Do you mean it like not now, but maybe definitely sometime in the future?" Carol asked with a laugh.
"I sure as shit don't mean it forever," Daryl said. "Unless…that's how you're feeling."
"That's not how I'm feeling," Carol said. "If you wanted to change your mind, I'd still allow it."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"I'ma hold to my principles for the night," Daryl said with a laugh. "Even if it kills me. Besides—I kinda like the idea that…it might make you really wanna see me on Friday. It ain't a bad feeling, knowin' you're waitin' for me to say yes."
"I'm not used to that feeling," Carol admitted.
"Me either."
"The wanting to say yes or…the having someone want you to say yes?"
"Either one," Daryl admitted. "Which—brings up the game that I decided we oughta try if we weren't gonna play strip poker."
"Now I'm curious," Carol said.
"Truth or dare," Daryl said.
A wave of anxiety washed over Carol.
"I don't know," she said.
"I'll be nice if you will," Daryl said. "Nothin' too scary or embarrassing. Hell—we'll even say each of us gets…three passes. How about that? You absolutely don't wanna say it or do it? You can use a pass. I'm going out on a limb too, you know. I'll even let'cha go first."
"I might need another beer," Carol admitted.
"I'll make sure you get home alright," Daryl teased. "Whatta you say? You trust me?"
Carol thought about it a moment.
"I do," she said. "Just—don't make me regret it."
Daryl stood up and offered her a hand, clearly meaning to move them inside. She blew out the candle before she took his hand and stood up.
"Believe me," he assured her, "that's the last damn thing in the world I wanna do."
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AN: As I'm putting the next chapter together, I am accepting any questions that you might have for either party. I won't promise that they'll all make it in (depends on the flow of the chapter), but I'll certainly consider them. So, if there's anything that you would like one to ask the other (serious or otherwise), please let me know and I'll see if it works or even sparks some other piece of the discussion.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think!
