AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

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Carol and Daryl both forgave Merle and Andrea for the shock they received when, upon returning from their mountain escape, they'd both come wearing bands that declared they'd done more than pick apples in the mountains.

Andrea and Merle had surprised Daryl and Carol by showing up at the door at an hour when Daryl and Carol would have soon considered it bedtime. Decaf coffee had been put on to brew and a long conversation—longer than any of them might have chosen to have, at that hour, under different circumstances—began. The initial conversation, though, hadn't been about the wedding bands. The first thing that Daryl wanted to know, before anything else, was exactly why it was that Merle had bruised knuckles and Andrea was sporting evidence of a hard blow to her face.

Convinced that neither was lying and that Shane Walsh had been the one to hit Andrea and, if he were seen, would be wearing evidence of the hit that Merle had doled out, the conversation had turned to the acquisition of bands.

Carol had worried that Daryl would be upset that he'd missed his brother getting married, but he'd quickly and easily accepted Merle and Andrea's explanation—Merle didn't like being the center of attention, especially in certain circumstances, and Andrea fully accepted that about her new husband. Carol had further soothed over any potentially hurt feelings by reminding Daryl that Andrea and Merle had to do things Andrea and Merle's way, not Daryl and Carol's way. Daryl had been pleased enough to think they had an established "way" of doing things that he'd quickly gotten over the hurt of not being there to hear vows exchanged in a courthouse just inside the Georgia line on the way back from their trip.

Now it was Halloween, and they were all handing out candy at Daryl and Carol's house.

Whereas it had been Andrea's idea to dress as a Pink Lady with Merle as her chosen Greaser, it had been Daryl's idea that he should be a cowboy while Carol was dressed as—this time—a tasteful and child-friendly madame. Of course, Carol had promised him that they could play their own version of the Wild West once the candy was doled out and his brother and Andrea had gone home.

"I've had enough apple cider in the past few days that—I just can't stomach it anymore," Carol admitted, pulling a pan out of the oven to check on the status of a type of sweet snack recipe she was testing. Andrea was helping herself to another mug of hot apple cider, and she'd offered to warm one in the microwave for Carol as well.

"Holiday madness?" Andrea asked with a laugh. While her cider warmed, she went back to filling little plastic bags with popcorn.

Outside, Daryl and Merle were holding down fold-out lawn chairs and handing out popcorn and candy as the children approached to yell "Trick-or-Treat" at them and to wait for some sort of approval on their costumes.

"Candy apples, apple cider, candy…" Carol ticked off. She laughed to herself as she dumped the caramel and chocolate pretzel treats into one of the large bowls to serve it to the men who were enjoying their first Halloween as the kind of men who dressed in coordinating outfits with their wives and doled out candy to neighborhood children. "Besides the fact I'm guaranteed to gain twenty pounds before January, all the rich food is probably going to kill me."

Andrea laughed, and tied the tops of the popcorn bags with a little more concentration and care than was truly necessary.

"I'd say you're getting your fill, too," Carol said.

Andrea hummed at her in question, but she didn't voice her question or look up from her work. Carol considered tasting one of her latest creations, but even the thought of it made her stomach complain and threaten a revolt. She'd eaten her way through too many treats early in the day and her gut wasn't pleased with her poor choices.

"You haven't been at the café early for like a week," Carol said with a laugh. "And Jacqui said you didn't want to try her chocolate covered pretzel cookies that she created."

"I've been there by nine," Andrea said. "And—she wanted me to try that for breakfast. Who's eating something like that for breakfast."

"Are you saying you usually turn down cookies for breakfast?" Carol asked, laughing to herself.

Andrea fussed with popcorn baggies for a moment longer, abandoned them, and quickly walked over to the windows that would allow her to see outside. She came back quickly to Carol and grabbed her shoulder to get her attention. She hardly needed to do so, Carol was already focused on her. There was a slight expression of panic on her face, and Carol could practically feel concern radiating off her.

"What's wrong?" Carol asked.

"I don't know if anything's wrong," Andrea said.

Carol laughed. She wasn't even sure why her body offered her that particular reaction. She didn't feel like anything was funny. She was concerned, more than anything.

"But you think something's wrong."

"I think—I might be pregnant," Andrea said.

Carol's stomach bottomed out so completely that she felt lightheaded. She reached her hand out and caught the side of the counter next to her—though she tried to do it in the most casual and non-attention-grabbing manner possible.

"I know," Andrea said, frowning and drawing her face up in an expression of something very akin to actual physical pain. "I didn't mean to…and I know you're…I know you've…been upset…and…"

Carol caught Andrea's hands quickly. Whether or not she fully felt what she was about to say, she felt compelled to say it because, if it wasn't true in that precise moment, it would be true when the ache in her chest subsided.

"Hey—you're my best friend," Carol said. A half smile flitted across Andrea's lips. "You have—supported me, in every single way you could, since the day I met you in a cooking class. I'm going to be happy for you no matter what. Nothing and nobody can stop me."

Andrea laughed nervously to herself. There were tears starting to puddle in her eyes, and Carol quickly shook her head at her and grabbed a paper towel from the nearby roll as the only thing that she had on hand to offer her.

"None of that," Carol said. She realized, as soon as she said it, that she was feeling better. She was no longer feeling that strange, sick sense of devastation that had first ran over her. She was telling the truth—she cared for Andrea, and she was happy for her, even if she may not be happy for herself. "You don't know for sure?"

Andrea shook her head. She dabbed at her eyes and her nose with the paper towel.

"I just—started putting things together. "I haven't felt—like me. And I've been—I've been all over the place. Emotionally. I thought it was the relationship. Merle. The proposal. Getting married. All this—stuff—that I really didn't think was ever going to happen. I don't know. It's like—a gut instinct. Like I just kind of know, but I don't know for sure because—every time I get ready to take a test? I mean I've locked myself in the bathroom at the salon for the past three mornings, but…I just chicken out."

"So, you don't know what Merle thinks yet," Carol said.

Andrea shook her head.

"We've never talked about it. I mean—never. Not really. I've tried to bring it up a couple of times, but…it's not really something that comes up easily in conversation."

"Especially not when you're nervous about giving yourself away," Carol offered.

"I asked him about kids," Andrea said. "On the way over here. Not about us having kids, just…kids. Because of the whole Halloween thing…"

"And?" Carol asked.

Andrea shrugged.

"He said they were alright. Then he changed the subject. He started talking about work."

Carol nodded.

"Just—don't worry about it, OK? Not right now. Tonight, just enjoy the night. Tomorrow, you can come by the café in the morning. Bring a test. You can take it and—Jacqui and I will keep you company while you wait."

"I don't want Jacqui to know right now," Andrea said.

"Then she won't," Carol assured her. "You'll come. You'll take the test. And only the two of us will know."

"You're not mad at me?" Andrea asked.

Carol laughed to herself. Her stomach clenched. There was something there, burning inside her, but it wasn't anger—and it wasn't Andrea's fault.

"I'll never be mad at you," Carol said. "Not really. Not for anything like this. Now, come on. Let's get them some more snacks before the kids start playing tricks on them."

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"We're keepin' your Halloween costume," Daryl mused. Carol shivered as he traced a circle gently around her nipple with his fingertip. In response, her nipple hardened again and her mind sent a jolt to other parts of her body with the warning that there might be even more pleasure on the horizon.

She was already four or five orgasms deep in the evening, if she'd been counting correctly, and they'd spent relatively little time in bed. Daryl was learning, masterfully, how to push her buttons and he seemed to get as much, if not more, pleasure from her orgasms than he did from his own.

Though she should be thoroughly satiated, the throbbing between her legs in response to his simple chosen ways to entertain his fingers while they basked in the afterglow told her that her body was never really satisfied—something she would have never known about herself before.

She hated to ask for more, though.

"What about your costume?" Carol asked.

"You like it?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded.

"It's sexier than the novelty costumes," she said.

"Mostly just a plaid shirt an' jeans," Daryl said with a laugh.

"Maybe I like that," Carol said. "It's sexier to me. More—authentic."

"Maybe that's what I like about that outfit," Daryl said. "Them little sexy things is sexy 'cause that's what they tryin' to be. You see it—know what's gonna happen. That outfit's sexy, but it's like a full outfit. Gives me more to imagine. More to unwrap."

Carol laughed to herself.

"What could you possibly have left to imagine about seeing me naked?" She asked. Daryl smiled to himself, but he didn't answer the question at all. Instead, like he simply needed to keep busy, and didn't mean it at all, Daryl leaned and captured the nipple he'd been torturing in his mouth. He sucked it, swirling his tongue around it, and Carol gasped.

"Hurt?" He asked, looking at her suddenly with a great deal of concern. "Your breasts still sore?"

"A little bit," Carol said. "They might be for a while. Hormones—take forever to even out, sometimes. But—it hurts good, Daryl. Really good."

He smirked at her. He cupped her breast with his hand, gently, and then he licked his thumb and moved to the other to gently rub it. He ran the damp thumb over her nipple, bringing it to the point where it stood at attention again. Then, flat palmed, he ran his hand down her body. She didn't even mind that it seemed to slide over more hills than she wished were there. He didn't seem to mind any number of hills and valleys as he continued his trek. Daryl held her eyes as he slipped his fingers between her legs and, immediately, plunged his middle finger into her while grinding his palm against her clit.

She lifted off the bed, slightly, with the reaction. He smiled again.

"You hungry tonight. That's right," he practically cooed. "You open them legs on up to me so I can get to you good."

Carol didn't have to think to obey him. Her body had already done so out of pure instinct. He introduced another finger into her and worked his hand. She moved her hips to help him—to give him the satisfaction that he got from this kind of control over her body.

Daryl wanted control over her body sometimes, and she knew that, but at least the control he wanted, she'd found, was always pleasurable to her, too.

She closed her eyes as the feelings started to build.

"Uh uh," Daryl chided. "Look at me or I'ma stop." Carol did look at him. His eyes were practically dark. He needed time to rest for his body to show his arousal, but there was no doubt that he still found pleasure in what he was doing. Carol arched her back as the tension in her body increased, and Daryl increased his concentration on what he was doing, biting his lip and furrowing his brow. The intensity of his concern with the task at hand, showing on his face, was surprisingly enough to give Carol the last push that she needed to tip over the proverbial edge. He didn't chide her when, somewhat against her will, she tossed her head back in the final wave of ecstasy that came with her orgasm. He did, however, keep working her until he was certain that she was done.

Immediately, he was kissing the side of her face and the area around her lips, his own lips catching the corner of hers. He didn't want to suffocate her, but he wanted his kisses in the afterglow. She puckered at him, but he didn't seem to mind that she'd missed him as she got control of herself.

"Good to you?"

"Always," Carol breathed out. "I know I'm supposed to be the madame, but—I feel like I'm the one that would have to pay you for all you do for me."

Daryl nuzzled her neck and moved his body practically on top of hers. She wrapped her arms around him and he situated himself so that they could both be comfortable with most of their bodies touching.

He was starting to feel sleepy and, in direct correlation, snuggly. And Carol was happy to indulge him. She'd go to the restroom later, when he was dozing, but for now, she would hold him.

"All you do for me," Daryl said, leaving the rest of the thought hanging.

Carol laughed to herself. She trailed her fingers gently against the skin on his back—skin she knew he had counted, for so long, off-limits. He'd told her that he loved, though, to feel her touch his scars. He loved for her to kiss and caress them.

"What do I possibly do for you…" Carol mused, her stomach tightening with the sadness that had been threatening her all night. It had been creeping in no matter how hard she fought it back.

"Make me happy," Daryl offered with a sigh. He rolled away from her enough to seek the position he would want for sleep. "Lotta shit, but…that's the biggest thing."

"What would make you happier?" Carol asked.

Daryl hummed at her. She didn't have to turn her head to know that, if she did, she'd find him with his eyes closed and his face very close to her.

"Just stay like you are," Daryl said.

"You mean don't move?" Carol asked with a laugh.

"I mean—just stay," Daryl said.

Carol's chest squeezed. She knew he didn't mean in the bed, as she was now. He wouldn't mind when she got up to go to the bathroom. He meant something else entirely. Every now and again, she remembered, he needed reassurance the same way that she did. Just as sadness creeped in on her, it found him, too. She reached and patted him, then let her fingers run over his arm.

"Forever," she promised.

"Good," Daryl said.