AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Carol brushed her cheek against Daryl's chest. She could hear his heart beating, pumping blood through his body, and she felt like hers changed rhythm to match it—calm, slow, soothing beats. Her body felt deliciously heavy—worn out in all the best ways. Daryl slept or, maybe, just pretended to sleep. He lie still with his eyes closed, his own body drained.

It was too early to be in bed for the night, and it was too late to have not gotten up for the morning. The truth was that it was creeping closer to night than morning, and they'd been up many times and returned to the sanctuary of the bed.

The sheets and blankets were tangled and messy—a number of various things had dried on them in places. Carol would strip the bed and replace the sheets before she went to sleep for good.

Part of her ached, though, to think about going to sleep for the night.

It was Sunday, and Daryl would be going home for the week. He'd never meant to stay this long. He'd said as much when Carol washed his clothes for him and returned them to him to wear because he only brought one change of clothes.

Carol could lounge in his arms, like this, and completely relax. She didn't have to wonder what he was thinking—though she could, if she wanted—and when she did wonder that, it was only because she was curious about his feelings, and not because she felt driven by some innate sense of self-preservation.

She could draw, from his body, comfort and the warmth of physical touch and affection. His hands were rough—evidence of a life spent working with them—and strong, but she didn't fear them when he touched her. He hadn't hurt her—not on purpose, and not in any way that really mattered—since she'd met him. He was, admittedly, a bit like a large puppy, sometimes, in that his excitement and enthusiasm—mixed with just a touch of clumsy awkwardness—made him sometimes rougher than he meant to be, but Carol didn't feel threatened by that. She found it, instead, endearing. Like a large puppy, all legs and sloppy kisses, knocking her to the floor, she accepted that any of Daryl's accidental and over-exuberant roughness came from a simple, and sometimes overwhelming, desire to be close to her.

It was a strange feeling—entirely foreign, but becoming more and more a part of her life—to have a man who wanted to be near her. It was strange to begin to trust, because she was beginning, without a doubt, to trust it, that every time he reached for her, it was with affection and good intention.

It was a strange feeling to have a knot in her throat at the thought that, soon, the sun would start to set and he would leave the bed to go to his house for the week—and she would miss him.

She would miss him.

Ed had taught her that her solitude was the happiest place she could find. He'd taught her that being alone was the best she could ask for—it was where she found peace. He'd taught her that, at most, she would find happiness with others in her friends, but a man couldn't be trusted. A man would bring her nothing but pain and heartache.

And now, Daryl was teaching her that she could find peace in his arms. She could find happiness and fun in his presence. She could smile and laugh without suspicion or ridicule. She could rest beside him, close her eyes, and linger there. She could do all that, and never fear that something would set off some kind of alarm in his brain that made her the enemy who must be punished and otherwise dealt with.

Her heart was learning to miss him, and it was telling her, with a building ache, that his presence was becoming preferable to her solitude.

But Carol didn't know how to tell Daryl that and, honestly, she found it a little unsettling and a touch frightening.

Something inside her begged her to hold onto him, while another voice, entirely, warned her that she was close enough to get burned and should protect herself more.

Carol rubbed her face against him again. Her heart ached. Her throat ached. It was bound up with words she wouldn't dare to say and, at the moment, just the though of them made a tremor run through her body.

Just then, Daryl moved his hand. He rubbed her back. He shifted his arm to pull her closer, not that she could possibly get any closer.

"Hey," he said, breaking a silence they'd been guarding for a while. "You droolin' on me or…?"

He sat up. She looked at him, her chin resting on his chest. The other hand came across and brushed away the tears that she had felt slip from her eyes.

"I do somethin' wrong?" He asked.

Carol smiled at him. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and raised her head.

"No," she said.

"You cryin'? Why?"

"You're doing—everything right."

Daryl laughed nervously to himself.

"That don't make any sense," he offered.

"I know," Carol agreed. "Is that OK?"

He smiled at her. He brushed his thumb against her cheek.

"It's all perfect to me," he said.

Carol simply nodded, feeling unable to say anything else, and sighed as she lowered her head back down to rest against him—starkly aware of the minutes passing before he would leave, but entirely unable to tell him how much she wished he wouldn't go.

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"Nobody has a party on a Wednesday night, Alice," Michonne said, examining her breakfast sandwich like she had to choose just the right spot for the first bite. "Parties are Fridays and Saturdays."

"Maybe for someone who lives a Friday and Saturday life," Alice said. "But some of us don't work the standard schedule, Mich."

"Who wants a hangover on a Thursday?" Michonne mused.

"For this one time—what if it wasn't about you?" Alice asked.

"OK—OK," Jacqui interrupted. "Before this gets ugly because people don't know how to behave on a Monday morning—Michonne? Alice is having a party on Wednesday night. She would like for everyone to come and meet her new lady friend."

"Sadie," Alice offered.

"Sadie," Jacqui echoed. "There will be food and beverage served and, in fact, I've already agreed to help Carol cater the event. She would be honored if you'd attend, but the party is taking place with or without you."

Michonne laughed to herself around a bite of food.

"Calm down," she said, tucking what she couldn't swallow immediately into her cheek. "I'm coming to the party. I'm just giving Alice a hard time. Besides—I want to meet this woman. Make sure she's not imaginary."

"Sadie's incredible," Alice said.

"As incredible as—what was her name? Darlene? Or Angela? Or—what about Samantha?"

"Do you want me to start counting failed relationships?" Alice challenged.

"God, no," Andrea interrupted. "We're all thrilled to meet Sadie. But—just how big is this catered event?"

"Intimate," Alice said. "Just us. The Glory Gals and whoever you want to bring."

"We're only catering it so that Alice doesn't have to cook after work, and Sadie doesn't feel burdened with cooking for it," Carol said. "And there won't be any dishes for them to do after. It's just a little—welcome to the family gift from Jacqui and me."

"Have you met this incredible, amazing, wonderful woman?" Michonne asked.

Carol shook her head.

"Nobody has," Andrea challenged.

"Hence the party," Alice said. "Listen—it's just us. I want everyone to have a chance to really get to know Sadie. And—she's deaf. So, I don't want it to be too overwhelming, you know? Just trying to keep up with everything that's going on. She's said she doesn't like big gatherings. She said she feels like she gets lost sometimes. I don't want it to be too big."

"Should we come alone?" Jacqui asked. "We want her to feel comfortable. Welcome."

Alice shook her head.

"No," she said. "There's some people we all haven't met, after all. And I want her to meet T and Ty. I want it to be a normal gathering. You know? And she doesn't like for people to make a big deal or a fuss over her—or anything."

"Are you bringing your new squeeze?" Michonne asked.

Carol squirmed a little.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know if—he might find it a little uncomfortable."

"Because he doesn't want to meet us?" Alice asked.

"Because his boss'll be there," Carol said.

"Bring him," Michonne said. "You know Ty doesn't like formality. They're friends at work, why wouldn't they get along at a gathering? Besides—I've never met him outside of a couple of interactions at work. I'd like to see what he's like when he's not just head-down-and-job-focused."

"I don't want anyone to purposefully give him a hard time," Carol warned.

Michonne frowned at her.

"This feels—serious. Is it that serious?" Michonne didn't allow Carol the time to answer, not that Carol intended to answer in the first place. "Carol—it hasn't been that long. Don't you feel like—it might be a little fast?" She glanced around the table. "In fact—there's a lot of that in the water around here."

"What the hell is fast anyway?" Andrea asked with a shrug. "I mean—you want to know what's fast, Mich? Life. Life is fucking fast. Just a couple years ago I was doing stupid teenager shit because I was a stupid teenager. Now my lower back hurts every day and I'm aware, every night, that life is just sort of going."

"And it doesn't stop going, honey," Jacqui said with a laugh. "I know what you mean."

"My point is—there are still things I wouldn't mind doing in life," Andrea said. "But if I sit around waiting for everything I do to happen slowly—so that it'll make someone who isn't even me more comfortable because it matches with some idea of decorum, or whatever; I'll never get there before they throw dirt in my face."

"It's fast," Carol breathed out. "You're probably right. It's so—fast. Too fast." She drank some of her coffee. "But—sometimes it doesn't feel fast at all. And, right now? I'm not sure how to reconcile that."

"Maybe you don't have to," Alice offered. "Seriously—I mean—who the fuck made up the rules? Forever lesbians have been getting a bad rep. We're u-hauling. First date, fall in love, move in together. That's the lesbian way. And everyone points their fingers and says that's why the hell this or that relationship fails, or whatever the fuck they want to criticize, but at the end of the day? Some relationships fail. Some don't. You don't kill them just because you fast forward past the bullshit that you don't like anyway."

"Are you u-hauling with Sadie?" Michonne asked.

Alice laughed to herself.

"She's keeping her place. For now. But—she has the closet in the office that I used to just use for storage."

"That fast, Al?" Michonne said with obvious disapproval.

"It's nice to have someone to come home to," Alice said. "And—if I recall correctly? Nobody at this table said a word when a certain someone rebounded from a failed marriage with a man who wanted to adopt her children within—what? It was barely a month, Michonne, before you were talking parental rights and adoption papers."

"After Dean…"

"And after Ed, and after…fucking Shane, Andrea? For years…it's been Shane off and on. And I'm not even counting the parade of endless fucking bad choices that I've made. So—yes, Sadie has a closet in my house. And we're happy. And Andrea's skin looks—incredible. And Carol…"

"And Carol's been walking around smiling and humming for no reason at all," Jacqui said with a smile. "Don't think I haven't noticed that around here."

"Except we all know the reason," Alice said. "So, seriously—tear the calendar in half and do what feels good instead of what everyone says looks good."

"Do you need some water, Al?" Michonne asked with a laugh. "I didn't know you felt so hot and passionate about things."

"Well, I do," Alice said with a laugh. "I'm sorry—I just…come on Wednesday, OK, Mich? And be nice. And don't judge. Not me. Not Sadie. Not—anybody. It's a judgement free party. The only thing you can bring is a significant other and something to contribute to the table, if you want."

Michonne held her hands up in mock surrender.

"My apologies to anyone I've offended. Ty and I will be there on Wednesday."

"Carol?" Alice asked.

"I'll be there," she said. "I'll have to ask Daryl."

"Andrea?"

"I'll be there," Andrea said. "But—I think I'll come alone."

"Why?" Carol asked.

Andrea shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm not certain that Merle knows that we're seeing each other yet," she said. "And—I don't know if this is how he ought to find out."

"So, you're coming alone?" Michonne asked. "It feels like a couples party, Andrea."

"I could always ask Shane," Andrea said with a laugh.

"Before I let you do that," Carol offered, "I'd ask Daryl to ask Merle himself."