AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I did post one earlier, so please don't miss that chapter before you read this one. Also, don't forget to show me some love if you enjoy it!
I hope you enjoy this chapter, too! Let me know what you think!
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Daryl came straight in the house, put the groceries away in the fridge and freezer to keep cold until he needed them, and stepped out back to start the charcoal in the grill so it would be good and ready for him when he was ready to put the burgers on to cook.
When he was satisfied that he had a moment before he needed to start patting out the meat for their at-home diner-inspired dinner, Daryl made his way to the master bathroom. The door was open, but cracked. He tapped at the door and waited for Carol's invitation.
"Come in," was offered, but there was something in the quality of her voice that immediately made Daryl's gut clench uncomfortably. He made his way into the bathroom. Carol was lounging in the tub, but even soaking there she was visibly not relaxed.
Daryl felt sick just to sense the tension radiating off of her.
"You OK?" He asked, already knowing the answer. "Day that bad?"
Her eyes were red, and he didn't even pretend for half a second that he believed it was owing to soap or something of the like. She raised her hand out of the water and wiped her nose with it, dropping it back down under the water.
"Yeah," Carol breathed out. "You could say that." She scooped water out of the tub and splashed her face with it, washing away tears and snot. Daryl had the distinct feeling they'd be returning before long. She found her washcloth, squeezed it out, and wiped at her face. "How was your day?" She asked, clearly doing her best impression of a cheerful person. Even her impression came out a little shaky with the tears behind it.
Daryl's stomach was massively uncomfortable with the whole thing. Seeing her like this—red faced and clearly upset—made him feel worse, he was pretty sure, than simply being that upset, himself, could ever make him feel.
"Don't try to change the subject on me," he said, stepping closer to the side of the tub. "I wanna know what's wrong with you."
Carol laughed to herself. It was entirely insincere. Despite the drying bathwater on her face, Daryl could see the tears were renewing themselves. She sniffed and wiped at her face with her washcloth again.
"Good day?" She asked.
Daryl felt some irritation tightening his back and shoulder muscles.
"Day was fine, Carol," he said, some of his irritation coming through in his voice. He checked himself. The last thing he wanted to do was come across as angry, and harsh, and scare her when she was clearly not feeling quite her strongest at the moment. He purposefully softened his tone. "I just—wanna know what's wrong, OK? Tell me what's wrong."
Carol nodded, sniffed again, and rinsed her rag and wrang it out before she wiped at her face again.
"What'd you—bring for dinner?" She asked.
Daryl sighed. He felt his muscles tighten, but then he did his best to remind himself that, sometimes, it was necessary to work up to talking about things. Sometimes it was hard to go straight at a thing. He'd talked about that with his psychiatrist a fair amount when he'd been working through some of the struggles he'd had growing up with Merle as, practically, his most nurturing Mama and Daddy figure. Sometimes, people had a hard time going straight at a thing, so they had to find their way there by going around the long way.
Daryl decided that he could take the long way with Carol, if that's what she needed.
"Got burgers to grill," Daryl said. "Fries. I got—ice cream and some liquor to make spiked milkshakes. Which, if you ask me, it's lookin' like you might need one early and another one later."
Carol laughed to herself.
"I might," she admitted, nodding her head. "I really—really might."
"I'll make you one," Daryl said. "You want it now? Or—you wanna tell me first what's goin' on and then we can enjoy a couple together?"
Carol looked toward the bathroom counter and inclined her head. It didn't take Daryl very long to figure out that she was gesturing him in that direction, so he turned and looked. The sink was plugged and, floating in it was cloth. He dipped his hand in the cold water, extracted the cloth, and could immediately tell they were panties. He examined them briefly and dropped them back in the water, not sure what was going on but deciding to return everything to the way he'd found it. He dried his hand on his pants leg and looked at Carol.
"We're gonna have to chock this one up to me bein' an ignorant ass man," Daryl said. "And I'm gonna have to ask to buy a vowel or something."
"I'm soaking them to try to get the blood stain out," Carol said.
"You could just buy some new ones, if it's that you're upset about," Daryl offered. "That ain't nothin' but a thing, Carol."
Carol's face screwed up like she might start to really cry, but she quickly got it under control. She nodded and wiped at her face again with the rag that she almost continuously dunked in the cooling bathwater and wrang out.
"I love you," she said.
Daryl laughed to himself, his stomach catching nervously.
"I love you, too," he assured her. "More'n anything in the whole damned world. But—I'm about as fuckin' lost as I ever been before. If you tell me what's wrong, I'll do whatever the hell I can to fix it."
"I know you would," Carol said, nodding her head. "I know you would; you would fix everything if you could. But—it's not something you can fix. Daryl—I started my period today. I felt gross all day and when I got home…blood."
Daryl's stomach dropped like it might actually fall out of him, somehow, and splatter on the bathroom floor between his feet like a water balloon. His chest ached, instantly.
Some part of him, really, had prepared for this. Some other part of him—the endlessly optimistic part, perhaps—had not.
Still, even the part of him that had prepared for this had not truly prepared. It had not really anticipated the horribly heavy feeling that he would feel.
The problem, he assumed, was that he hadn't prepared for this correctly. When he'd prepared for it, he'd only thought about he'd feel when he got this news. He'd only prepared to deal with his own feelings of disappointment and the knowledge that they would have to wait, at least another month, before they were adding to the list of things that were simply going almost magically according to their hopes and dreams.
Daryl had foolishly not prepared for how Carol might feel or react and, more than that, he hadn't prepared for how he would feel as a witness to her devastation.
He would have, frankly, preferred the impact of being hit by a bus to the feeling in his chest at the moment.
He gathered himself together. She would need that.
"No baby?" He said. "Just to make sure I'm—understandin'?"
"No baby," Carol confirmed.
Daryl nodded his head.
"This month," he said.
Carol frowned and shrugged her shoulders.
"Probably never," Carol said.
It hit him like a hard punch to the gut. He shook his head at her.
"Don't'cha start that," he said. "Don't you do it. It's just a lil' blood—hell it hardly looks like a stain. All it means is that there ain't no baby this month, so don't you go gettin' negative."
"It's always just a little blood while it's starting, Daryl," Carol offered.
"I don't know shit about it," Daryl admitted. "But I'm tryin' to learn. I still stand by what the hell I said. It means there ain't no baby this month. That's it. That's all it means. Means—not this month. And I'm a hundred percent certain that bein' positive is better for uppin' our chances for next month than bein' negative would be."
Carol laughed to herself, but it didn't sound sincere.
"I don't think positivity or negativity matters," she said.
"It does, too," Daryl said. "Would you want to make our baby in—in positivity or in negativity? Right out the gate?"
Carol laughed to herself, that same strangled laugh.
"There's no baby," she said. "Daryl—there probably won't be a baby. Ever. Never. No baby. Not for us. I'm too old. I let us down. I'm not cut out for—this."
Daryl's pulse picked up.
"I'm going to come right out and say it that I don't like how you said that, Carol."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"It's true, though, whether either of us likes it or not," she said.
"You said there was a window, right? We probably missed the damn window, that's all. I probably fucked it up when I didn't realize there was one and I weren't around. Next month we don't miss the window."
"And when it doesn't work next month, Daryl? And that excuse doesn't work?" Carol asked.
"Then we deal with it, then," Daryl said. "I ain't googled this shit, but I'm going to now. I'm sure there's people that's had babies before, Carol, that had to wait on 'em a lil' bit to make or whatever. However it works. If it don't happen this month, and it don't happen next month, that don't mean that it's never gonna happen. But I do stand by what the hell I said. We gotta be positive about it. Because when it does happen, and I believe it's gonna happen, I—me personally? I don't want our baby all made up in negativity. Our baby deserves better than that. Our baby deserves positivity."
Carol stared hard at him. There was a deep frown etched onto her face, but she seemed to have stopped the tears, finally. They could return at any moment, though, and Daryl was starkly aware of that.
He walked over, pulled the towel down from the towel hook, and came back to stand by the tub.
"Pull your plug," he said, softening his tone. "Come on. Let's get out. Your water's gotta be cold and—I don't want you gettin' sick. We'll get you somethin' comfortable to wear and…get'cha a good ass spiked milkshake. And you can keep me company while I cook the burgers and fries."
Carol did pull the plug, and she did stand up in the tub, but it was evident from the way she moved that she must feel like she weighed a thousand pounds under the gravity of her emotions. Daryl helped her out of the tub, wrapped the towel around her, wrapping her like a burrito, and wrapped her in his arms. She snuggled her face against him, and he stayed still to hold her a moment.
"You know—I would understand if you regretted marrying me," Carol said.
Daryl squeezed her tighter against the feeling like a knife blade had torn through his heart.
"I'm never gonna regret that," he said. "No matter what."
"If you married—someone else? You could have everything," Carol said. "Everything you wanted. Everything you dreamed of. The whole fantasy."
"You're my whole fantasy," Daryl offered. "Never been nobody else, Carol. Don't want nobody else. So—whatever we get? We get it together."
"I'm so sorry," she said, choking out the last of the words. Daryl pushed her burrito wrapped form away enough to tip her head up and look at her damp eyes.
"Listen to me," he said. "I don't wanna hear sorry no more, OK? You understand me? I don't wanna hear it. You ain't got a damn thing to be sorry for. It's fuckin' biology. Nod if you can hear me or read my lips or somethin'."
She smiled, faintly, and it was the first one that Daryl felt was even partially sincere. She nodded.
"Good," he said, still holding her face. "Listen—I love you. All right? You my best girl. My woman. My wife. And I don't want no other one, and I don't like hearin' you even suggest that shit, so I'm tellin' you that'cha gotta cut it out right now or you gonna see me mad for…hell, I think it's the first damn time. All right? I don't wanna hear that shit no more. You hear me?"
Carol nodded.
"I love you," she said.
"I love you, too," Daryl said.
"I'm—I know you don't want me to say I'm sorry, but…I am. I wanted it, Daryl."
Daryl swallowed against his own feelings and nodded at her.
"I know you did," he said. "I did, too. It's OK to be sad—as long as we're bein' sad together. Because I want you more. Still—we gonna be positive about it. I mean—hell—I told you, I ain't googled that shit, but I'm pretty sure we ain't the only damn people in the world that might have to wait a little bit, right?"
Carol nodded and Daryl brushed her face with his thumb.
"It don't mean nothin'," he assured her. "But I'm glad I'm makin' burgers. I know—last time you had your period, you said you got a cravin' for red meat. You think you can eat a burger with me?"
She smiled a little more sincerely.
"I'd like to eat a burger with you," she said.
"Good," Daryl said. "Because I'ma load that shit up. Fix it right. And we'll both have a milkshake or two. Fuck calories. You crampin'?"
"Little bit," Carol said, her cheeks running red.
"Get you somethin' to go with your shake and—I know you said there was one thing that turned out better for them cramps than even what you was taking. You feeling up to it, later, and hell…I'll get you a couple damn orgasms to relax the cramps away."
Carol laughed to herself. Her whole face ran red, but she slammed her burrito wrapped body against him and he hugged her.
"I don't deserve you," Carol offered. "But—I'm glad I have you."
"You have me," Daryl assured her. "Long as you want me, you got me. Come on—you go pick out somethin' comfortable to wear. I'ma go get started on the first round of milkshakes and them patties."
