AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol had been concerned that Daryl would be upset that the wedding was not the kind of wedding depicted in the movies that he'd watched tirelessly. He'd accepted, though, that the wedding was a different kind of wedding, entirely, than the elaborate ones the movies showed with rows upon rows of guests, flowers heaped everywhere, and a cake that was three tiers high.
The wedding, and he knew this the moment that Carol agreed to marry him, and did so with some enthusiasm, didn't mean thing at all.
This wedding would be nothing like the ones in the movies. But, unlike the ones in the movies where Daryl went to bed after the whole thing and slept alone, Daryl would leave this weeding with the one thing that he'd thought he'd never have—and something that made his stomach feel wobbly even to think about—a wife.
His wife.
If Daryl had even thought that the wedding would be anything worthy of some kind of romantic over-the-top movie, he would have been let down.
The person who officiated the wedding couldn't look more disenamored of his job if he'd actually tried. He looked so bored with his existence that his face seemed to practically be melting into a deep frown. He looked like an unhappy bloodhound, and it was clear that he couldn't believe that Daryl and Carol had had the audacity to bring anything of a "wedding party" with them.
The vows had been stock vows, and the man leading them had been so uninspired that it was difficult for Daryl to even remember the words that had been exchanged between them. Of course, much like the pomp and circumstance of the wedding, the vows hadn't much mattered either.
The words didn't matter. No matter the vows, Daryl meant exactly what he said: "I do."
I do promise to do every damn thing that I should, to the best of my abilities, to be what the hell she needs and wants me to be.
He hadn't said that, really, but he'd meant it. And he'd felt the same thing—the same kind of promise—in Carol's repetition of the two simple words.
The rings—which Daryl had intended to purchase in time for the wedding, if Carol said yes—were still at the store in Living Springs, waiting on him to pay the balance that he'd figured there was no rush in paying. Carol hadn't minded the lack of a band, though, and he'd assured her that the first place they'd go—upon their return to Living Springs and during store hours, of course—was to the store to finish paying them off.
Daryl wanted his wedding band more than he felt it was really manly to admit.
The best part of the wedding, though, in Daryl's mind, was the kiss. His stomach had flopped around like it had been full of butterflies bigger than birds as he heard the man speak the words—uninspired as they were—that told Daryl he could kiss his bride.
The kiss had sincerely taken his breath away, because it was the first one that they would share as husband and wife—but it certainly wasn't the last. They shared at least half a dozen more kisses in the parking lot, where it seemed the real celebration took place.
There was no professional photographer, but Andrea snapped a few dozen pictures of them together, and they wrangled someone to take a couple of their whole group together.
They'd taken their wedding party from the courthouse to the coast, and their friends had played photographers as they snapped a few photos on the beach. Daryl, who really wasn't one for taking pictures, didn't mind it at all when the pictures were celebrating his union with Carol. He held Carol, this way and that, as Andrea and Sadie—both very involved in the photo-taking process—directed them. He kissed her, holding their kisses, while pictures were snapped. He even lifted her into the air, holding her up with his hands encircling her waist, and held her until Andrea assured them that she had some really "beautiful" pictures.
And then, to his brother's pretended chagrin, Daryl insisted on everyone taking some other quick couples photos on the beach—and everyone had agreed.
Finally, they'd moved the wedding celebration to what they were jokingly calling the reception. It was a birthday brunch. Daryl and Carol had already eaten, but their wedding guests had driven through most of the night and hadn't really had time to eat. Merle loved a pancake house, so he couldn't resist the opportunity to eat at one while they were on the coast, especially since they so rarely came this way.
They ordered a big meal for everyone, and most of the meal had been consumed with nothing more than regular, amiable conversation.
After the meal, Daryl and Carol had offered to do something with everyone—some activity for entertainment—since they were both feeling a little guilty for the length of the drive and the fact that, now, everyone was probably going to have to incur the expense of finding a place to stay overnight.
But Sadie and Alice insisted that they had something else in mind—something they'd found that they both wanted to do desperately, and they were happy not to have to be the rude ones that dipped out on the rest of the group if they insisted on doing something together. Merle and Andrea, too, said they had something planned, though Daryl thought that the dark circles under both their eyes was a pretty good indication of what they'd both like to do for at least a while.
Merle pulled Daryl aside while Carol was saying goodbye to her friends and telling them how happy she was that they'd come—and that she hoped they weren't too disappointed by the lack of flashy fanfare.
"You need anything? Money or…anything?" Merle asked, his hand holding tight to Daryl's shoulder.
Daryl laughed to himself. Merle hadn't offered him money since his voice was still cracking every now and again. He appreciated it, though, for what the hell it was.
"No, brother," Daryl said. "I'm good. You the one didn't plan for this trip. You an' Andrea gonna have enough?"
"We'll be fine," Merle assured him. He lit a cigarette and Daryl joined him. Merle kept cutting his eyes toward Carol. "You done good," he said, finally. "I don't think—I thought you'd ever actually do it, but you done good, brother. She's a pretty lil' thing."
"She's pretty," Daryl agreed. "But she's a whole helluva lot more'n pretty, Merle. She's—everything."
Merle laughed to himself and nodded.
"You done gone and married her now," Merle said. "And once you consummate the thing, it's official. So, it's better you think she's everything than you don't." Daryl nodded at him. Merle seemed to be chewing on his words. "Just—wanted to say I'm proud of ya. That's all."
Daryl nodded, humming his thanks to Merle. Merle squeezed his neck affectionately.
"You next?" Daryl asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother.
Merle looked in the direction of the women. He laughed to himself.
"I'm an old dog," Merle offered.
"Contrary to what the hell they say," Daryl said, "they can learn new tricks. And—I think you'd be hard pressed to do much better'n Andrea."
Merle hummed.
"But she could do a helluva lot better'n me," he mused.
"She don't seem to be tryin'," Daryl said.
Merle huffed and raised his eyebrows at Daryl. It was an expression that Daryl knew well. It was the moment that Merle kind of "cut off" anything that he didn't want to discuss any further.
"We're gonna find a place. Maybe hang around a couple days. Ty already knows we're here, so you can bet his ass is shiftin' shit around. He won't need us until Tuesday or Wednesday. Wouldn't mind just—seein' what the hell there is to see."
Daryl smiled at him. A little vacation with Andrea, even if it was impromptu, wouldn't be bad for either one of them.
"Y'all have fun," Daryl offered.
"You, too, brother," Merle said. "Don't you disappoint me, Daryl. It's your damn weddin' so that means—you got some kinda law decreed duty or some shit to take care of her. That shit means forever, but…it also means for tonight. I've heard that if the consummatin' don't stick, then the whole damn marriage can be null an' void if you don't take care of her."
Daryl laughed to himself.
He knew that everything Merle had just said—with the exception, maybe, of the fact that Daryl had a duty to take care of Carol in every imaginable way—was a load of horse shit. The duty to take care of her, honestly, wasn't even like some kind of legal duty or obligation. If it were, then assholes like Ed would have never been able to hurt women like he'd hurt Carol. The duty to which Merle was referring was more of a moral duty. Something they felt.
And Daryl didn't need any nudging to want to take care of his wife.
"You don't gotta worry about me, Merle," Daryl offered. "I been takin' care of her."
"I bet you have," Merle said with a laugh.
"I'm serious," Daryl said.
Merle's expression went serious, too, to reflect Daryl's moment of insistence.
"I am, too," Merle assured him. "Look—I've heard…enough. From Andrea. About—how she was skittish. Damn near feral just to…keep from bein' caught again. She ain't stopped smilin' every damn time I seen her, though. Don't look so damn skittish when she's hangin' on you."
Daryl smiled to himself. His stomach tightened at his brother's confirmation of Carol's visible happiness.
"I love her," Daryl said.
"I know the hell you do," Merle said. "And—I don't presume to put words in her mouth, but it's pretty damn obvious she's pretty fuckin' fond of you, or she wouldn't have agreed to that courthouse wedding. Not unless she's knocked up or somethin'."
Merle laughed at the thought—the possibility. It made Daryl's stomach tighten and flip, though. They hadn't told anyone their desires—what they dreamed about and talked about when they were alone. For now, and just for now, they were keeping that between the two of them.
Merle furrowed his brow at Daryl. Daryl realized he must have made an expression and did his best to return his face to the most neutral position that he could.
"She loves me, too," Daryl said. "At least—that's what she says, and I'm inclined to believe her."
"Me too," Merle assured him. "Shit—Daryl—go get your woman. Take her back to whatever the hell you're callin' home for a couple more days, and claim her as your fuckin' wife the way that nature intended. Stop standin' your ass out here talkin' my damn ears off…"
Daryl didn't get offended at the sudden sharp turn of Merle's tone of voice. He'd known his brother literally his whole life, and he knew that Merle sometimes thought that speaking to someone sharply was a way to get to them to do something he wanted them to do—usually something he believed to be for their own good—even if he didn't feel the way the tone implied.
Merle didn't want Daryl to risk feeling like he wasted another minute waiting to start his chapter of forever, and Daryl could appreciate that.
"Drive careful back," Daryl offered, leaving Merle and walking toward the women.
"You too, brother," Merle called out, heading in the direction of his truck. "Andrea? We goin' now, Sugar. Say bye bye. You'll see her when we get home."
Andrea turned to look at him before hugging Carol once more. She didn't wait to hug Daryl as he approached, but she did call out a congratulations to him as she followed after Merle, already changing gears to start asking him about something that apparently came from some earlier conversation they'd had and left hanging before the wedding.
Daryl reached Carol and gathered her into his arms quickly. She came willingly, laughing in her throat as his arms encircled her and playfully pinned hers to her sides. She grinned up at him, clearly trying to swallow back the smile, but finding herself unable to do so.
He took in everything about her—her beautiful blue eyes, the scar above her eyebrow, the freckles that dotted her face, her smile and the way it crooked slightly and her nostrils flared when she looked at him a certain way.
"You're so damned perfect," he marveled.
"I'm not perfect at all," she said with a burst of laughter. "If either one of us is perfect…it's you."
"Maybe we gotta agree to disagree," Daryl said.
"Our first marital spat?" Carol teased.
"We could do worse," Daryl said with a laugh.
"Thank you," Carol said.
"For what, woman?"
"Everything," Carol said. "But for—telling them to come. I'm glad they came."
"I'm glad they came, too," Daryl said. "Was it—OK?"
"Was it OK for you?" Carol asked, nodding her head gently.
"We married?" Daryl asked.
"Yeah," Carol said with a smile. "We are."
"Then it was good for me," Daryl assured. "Except—we ain't fully married yet." She furrowed her brow at him. "It ain't official until it's consummated. Can be dissolved up until then."
Carol cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Then we better go take care of that," Carol said. "Before someone comes along and tries to steal you away from me."
Daryl couldn't help but smile at her tone of voice.
"It won't never happen," he said. "But—I wouldn't be against spendin' our afternoon makin' sure the whole thing was sealed up as good as it can be."
Carol turned her face toward him and puckered her lips. He leaned and kissed her. The sweet toying of her tongue and lips with his was a pretty clear sign that she had no intention to fight him too much on how they might spend their afternoon.
