AN: Here we are, another chapter here. This finishes up Truth or Dare night, though you know that our couple have plenty more adventures to come.

This is the second part that I've posted today, so please make sure you go back and read 34 before this one.

I hope that you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!

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Carol came outside with Daryl when he told her he was heading outside to smoke. He worried, honestly, that things might be awkward—that she might be uncomfortable or that she might make him feel uncomfortable. The worry couldn't have been more unfounded.

Carol didn't say anything about his obvious problem or earlier discomfort. She didn't say anything about the fact that she had to have known exactly what he was doing, and who he was thinking about while doing it. She didn't tease him at all. She treated it as though it were simply the most natural thing possible, and she had a perfectly relaxed conversation with Daryl about the fact that there weren't any fireflies out and she missed seeing fireflies in abundance like she had when she was a little girl.

When Daryl had finished two cigarettes, they'd gone inside. Carol had excused herself to use the bathroom, and Daryl fixed more water for himself and put a fresh beer for Carol on the table.

Her living room was cozy. It was warm—even though the temperature was actually comfortably cool. Daryl folded the throw once more, tossed it over the back of the couch, and had just settled in when Carol came back and took her spot.

"You go first?" She asked.

"You do," Daryl said. "You told me about how much you love fireflies. That counts for somethin'."

Carol smiled in response.

"OK, then," she said. "Then—tell me one of your favorite childhood memories."

"That's kinda—rocky ground," Daryl said. "I didn't have what you might call a real cracker jack childhood."

Carol frowned to herself.

"I know, but…I hope you have some good memories, at least," Carol said.

Daryl thought about it for a moment. He nodded his head.

"They're more—here or there," he said. "Pieces. But—I remember when I was…I musta been real small. Because my grandpa, Norman…that's where the tattoo come from…he died when I was a little bitty thing. But I remember walking through the woods. In my head—I can see Merle. He was still kind of a kid and he's ten years older than me, so…I know I wasn't that old. And I remember we came out on this pond. I thought it was the biggest pond in the world. As big as the ocean. Anyway, my grandpa got us sittin' on the bank and we sat there and we just fished. All day. And I remember we ate saltine crackers and Vienna sausages out the can for lunch." Daryl laughed to himself. "Tell you the truth, I don't remember if we caught anything."

"It didn't matter," Carol said.

Daryl shook his head.

"It didn't matter," Daryl said. "I was five when Grandpa died."

"He sounds like a good man," Carol said.

"He was," Daryl confirmed. "He was my Mama's Daddy. I never knew my old man's parents. Probably better that way. The only damn thing that coulda begot Satan was an even bigger devil, right?"

"I'm sorry," Carol said, leaning and rubbing her hand over his leg. There was sincerity in her apology—like she wanted him to know that she was sorry that the world was simply shit sometimes. He understood. He felt the same sense of sorrow for her sufferings.

"It's OK," Daryl said. "It was a good fishin' trip. Whether or not we caught a damn thing. I haven't been fishin' since—I was a kid."

"Maybe we should go sometime," Carol offered.

"You mean it?"

"Yeah," Carol said with a smile. "Why not? I even bait my own hook. But—I can't get them off the hook. The fish. I can't do it."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I'll get your fish off the hook for you," Daryl said. "But—I'd like that. If you wanted to go with me."

"It's a date," Carol said with a smile.

"Your turn," Daryl said. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Carol said.

"As long as tricky subjects come up," Daryl said. "Why don't you like to choose? There a story behind that?"

Carol smiled to herself. She reached for her beer and tasted it. She turned, facing Daryl a little more in the couch. He reached for her leg, tugged it, and she let him have it. She spread it across his lap and he worked the muscle of her calf to entertain his fingers.

"There's a lot of stories there," Carol said. "But—mostly, I guess it's that I never choose right. I don't choose the right thing. The right restaurant or food. The right…way to spend time. And then, when everything goes wrong or…almost everything goes wrong? It's all my fault. And I've ruined everything for everyone."

The weight of her words struck Daryl practically like being punched in the sternum.

"Shit," he said. "There's—a whole hell of a lot wrong with that way of thinkin'. And—I don't guess I have to ask who the hell taught you to think that way. Still, I can understand why the hell you don't wanna choose nothin' with that much weight ridin' on everything."

Carol laughed to herself. It wasn't entirely sincere. Daryl worked his hands down to her foot.

"My feet are dirty," she protested.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I don't give a shit," he said. "Listen—I won't make you choose. Not if you don't like it. But—if you ever wanna choose? You wanna just try it? I'ma promise you that you won't ruin anything." Carol nodded her head in response. It was really all the response that Daryl needed or expected.

"Why do you like rubbing my feet?" Carol asked.

"Waste of a question," Daryl said with a laugh. "It's—because I like touchin' you. And—my hands like to have somethin' to do. It's the best of both worlds."

"Your turn," Carol nudged.

"You said in the truck one night that—you wanted to be a wife. A certain kind of wife. You wanted children," Daryl said. "Do you still want that?"

Carol stared somewhat over Daryl's shoulder. She nodded her head.

"Very much," she said. "It's what I always wanted. I should've wanted bigger things, maybe, but…"

"I think we want what we want," Daryl said. "Wantin' to have your café, be a wife, and have a family—there ain't no shame in wantin' that, Carol. Ed didn't—want children?"

Carol pursed her lips.

"Ed liked the idea of children," Carol said. "Because other people had children, and that was the thing to do."

"But?"

"But the tricky thing about children is you have to take care of them, before they're born," Carol said. "And—you have to take care of their mother, to some degree, before they're born." She shook her head. "Ed wasn't good at that. And once I figured that out, I started taking birth control, secretly, until I divorced him. Fool me twice…and all that."

Daryl's stomach knotted, but he got the feeling that he was treading in very murky waters. He pulled back a little.

"You don't wanna talk about that right now?" He asked. "About—what happened?"

"No," Carol admitted. "Not really. Not more than that. Pass."

"That's fine," Daryl assured her. "You—still want 'em? Children? Under…better circumstances?"

She clearly thought about it a moment.

"I wouldn't be unhappy about it—not under better circumstances," Carol said. "How about you?"

Daryl's stomach flip flopped.

"You talk about maybe you shoulda wanted bigger things, but…hell, you already heard what I want. It ain't like I ever had no grand aspirations. Top of my whole list is to be happily married. But like—really happily fuckin' married, you know?" Carol laughed and nodded her head. "I wouldn't be unhappy if we had a family."

Daryl's eyes met Carol's for a moment, and then he quickly asked a question to move the conversation forward.

"Where's somewhere you'd like to go?" Daryl asked.

"Like on a trip?"

"Like on a trip."

Carol smiled to herself.

"The beach," she said. "We talked about it before."

"We talked about—how you didn't travel much. I love the beach. Mountains, too."

Carol hummed in agreement.

"To see the leaves change," Carol said. "Or—snow."

"Or both," Daryl said.

"Your turn or mine?" Carol asked.

"I don't remember," Daryl said. "To be honest. You go."

"What's your favorite way to spend an evening?" Carol asked. "Or—a weekend. To relax. Your favorite way to relax. What is it?"

Daryl hummed.

"I don't know. Gotta admit—this right here? I can't think of shit I've liked better in a long damn time." Carol smiled at him.

"Am I—copying you too much if I say that I feel the same way?" Carol asked.

"Copy me or not. I like hearin' it."

"I like—the simple, you know? I do enjoy reading and…warm baths."

"I like movies, too," Daryl said. "But—not to be too pushy or anything, but all them things? We could do 'em together, couldn't we? It would suit me."

Carol laughed to herself.

"You'd take a bubble bath with me, Daryl?" She asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"If we could both fit," he said.

"I think—we could make it work," Carol said.

"Then I'd take a bubble bath with you," Daryl offered. "Whenever you want. You tell me."

"But not tonight," Carol said.

Daryl laughed to himself and shook his head.

"Not tonight," he said. "Shit—I lost track again. I don't know whose turn it is. Did you ask that one or did I?"

Carol laughed and hummed to herself. Daryl reached for her other leg, and she didn't fight him at all. She brought it into his lap and rearranged the couch pillow behind her to make herself more comfortable.

"I don't remember," she said. "It doesn't matter. What's—something nice…what's something you'd like to do?"

"Besides all the shit I already told you?" Daryl asked.

Carol raised her eyebrows and nodded her head.

"Besides everything you've already said. What's something that you'd like to do? It can be silly or serious. It doesn't matter either way. I won't judge you."

"OK," Daryl said. "Gimme a second, now. I gotta think about it a second. I don't got an answer prepared. If you know what you would do, though, you can go ahead."

"It's your question," Carol said.

"And I'ma just volley it right on back to you, so if you got something…"

"I'd like to go dancing," Carol said.

"Dancing?"

"Dancing," Carol said. "I've never been dancing. I'd like to go dancing. Your turn," she said, shaking her foot a little to nudge Daryl.

"I'd like to take you dancing," he said. "Even though—I don't have a fuckin' clue how to dance."

Carol laughed.

"Now that's cheating," she said. "Come on—what's something you'd like to do?"

"I don't know," Daryl said. "For real—I don't wanna do that much stuff that I ain't already said. I mean—I just don't really have all that much. And like, what I wanna do is more like spontaneous. Like you say you wanna dance, and my brain's like…hell, me too."

Carol laughed.

"OK—I'll give you a pass," she said. "You can have a pass for that one."

"I answered it," Daryl said. "And the more I think about it, the more I like the answer. You wanna go dancin' somewhere in particular?"

"No," Carol said. "Forget I said it, really."

"Don't be like that," Daryl said.

"It's silly. You already said you don't dance."

"I said I don't know how to dance," Daryl said. "But hell—I've been embarrassed before. I don't give two shits about bein' embarrassed again. Not for somethin' like that."

"I wouldn't care where," Carol said. "I just think it would be romantic. That's all."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"Done," he said. "We'll go dancin'." He shook his head at her when he saw her expression. She was already worrying that he would hate it and it would ruin his entire life. And, by extension, something in her gut told her that he would ruin hers in retaliation. Ed was an asshole, and Daryl didn't like knowing him—because he felt like he did know him—but he looked forward to doing his best to grind Ed's memory with his heel, at least. "My turn…what's the worst decision you ever made?"

"Too easy," Carol said. "Marrying Ed. I thought it was the best at the time but—it's true what they say. Hindsight is twenty-twenty."

"I don't really have too many regrets," Daryl admitted. "Part of—my therapy things was workin' on makin' peace with the past, you know? Just—not forgetting it, but just kinda…givin' yourself some grace and recognizing that shit's done. I don't know. Anyway, I did all the steps and all. I can't say that it got rid of everything. I mean—for sure it didn't. But it did do one thing, and that's that…I don't regret a lot of shit. It just is what it is. But—I do, I guess, kind of regret a couple of the tattoos I got. Little ones here or there that were mostly just me bein' stupid when a buddy got a tattoo gun. Does that count?"

"Anything counts that you want to count," Carol said. She looked relaxed. She was nursing her beer. She'd stopped protesting Daryl's working of her muscles. She seemed to be enjoying it. He could feel her relaxation, and he was practically relaxing himself as it flowed into him through his hands.

"Your turn," Daryl said.

She hummed.

"We did worst decision, so…best decision?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled to himself. His heart pounded so wildly that he wondered if she could hear it or sense it. It didn't matter. Not right then. Nothing ventured, nothing gained—and he was already choking back a veritable wall of thoughts that were skittering around in his mind when he looked at her, as she was, and wanted to tell her that, if he could go back a couple of questions, he knew what he wanted to do. What he wanted to do was simple—he wanted to keep looking at her, just like she looked right now, for the rest of the foreseeable future.

He didn't say that, though. Instead, he gathered up his courage for his answer to the question at hand.

"Goin' to Salty's a few Fridays ago," Daryl offered.

Carol stared at him. Her cheeks ran pink. She smiled softly to herself. She didn't tense. She didn't kick him away. She didn't ask him to leave.

"You?" He dared to ask.

The smile grew for a second, and she swallowed some of it back.

"Calling a number that…got left on my fridge," Carol said. Daryl felt his heart nearly skid to a stop before it began something like the Cha Cha Cha.

"That's cheating," Daryl said. "But—I'ma let you have it. Truth—Carol. You asked me if Agnes was my girlfriend. And I told you she weren't. Do you—got a boyfriend under wraps?"

Carol smiled to herself. She picked at the label on her beer. Then she looked at Daryl again.

"No," she said. "There's a guy I like, but…he's never asked me to be his girlfriend."

Daryl ignored the screaming in his mind. He ignored the sound of his blood rushing by his ears. He ignored his slightly labored breathing.

"He's an idiot," Daryl said.

"No," Carol protested, drawing out the word. "Not at all. I have a dare for you, Daryl."

Daryl nodded.

"Go ahead," he said.

Carol smiled. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" She asked.

"Couldn't think of a damn thing I want more," Daryl said. "And that's the truth."

Carol blew out her breath. Clearly, she'd drawn it in to hold it while she waited for his response. He found it interesting that she'd clearly thought there might be a chance that he'd say no. He knew there hadn't been any chance at all of his refusing the proposal. He responded to her release of breath by working his way up her leg again, kneading the muscles of her calf.

"I got a dare for you, too, Carol," Daryl said, as soon as he felt some of tension leaving her muscle.

"What is it?" Carol asked.

"Go away with me."

"What?"

"On a trip. I'll plan it. You don't got to. We'll take a long weekend. Before the summer's done or whatever. Go away with me."

"Where?" Carol asked.

"Do it matter?"

"No," Carol said with only a bit of hesitation.

"Does that mean you'll do it?"

"When?" Carol asked. "I have the café. I can't leave without giving Jacqui notice."

"Then you tell me," Daryl said. "Hell—Ty'll let me go. It ain't no problem. Does that mean you'll go with me?"

"Yes—I'll go with you."

Daryl smiled and relaxed back into his position.

"Good," Daryl said. "Then—you just tell me when, and you don't worry about the rest."