AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I think people might have missed the last chapter, so please do make sure that you go back and read it! If you get a chance, don't forget to let me know if you liked it!
I hope you enjoy this one! Let me know what you think!
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"You are really late," Daryl informed Carol when she came in the door.
He could immediately tell that she'd had a long day and that she was tired. Her shoulders slumped forward in a heavy manner. She closed the door slowly and maybe a touch dramatically. She locked it behind her like turning the deadbolt took all of her remaining energy. She dropped her purse beside the door instead of simply hanging it on the hook where she normally did or putting it on the table. She walked heavily into the kitchen.
"Long day?" Daryl asked.
Carol hummed. She pulled out the chair at the kitchen table and sat down. She immediately started undoing the laces on her shoes and, the moment her feet were free, she worked one and then the other in her hand.
"Not bad until about three," Carol said. "A college class decided to take a field trip. And then, it seemed like as soon as everyone piled into the café, everyone passing by in the street decided they suddenly needed coffee, and cake, and everything else. We didn't stop until—I just left."
"Make good tips at least?" Daryl asked. He walked over, behind Carol, and dropped his hands to her shoulders to work the muscles there. She groaned appreciatively.
"Good tips—better profits than we've made in a while," Carol said. "We cleared out everything we'd made for today and some of what we'd started to put together just to be ready for tomorrow."
"That's good, then."
"It's great for my bank account," Carol said. "But my feet don't feel quite as enthusiastic."
"I got that soup goin' that you saw online yesterday," Daryl said. "Picked up all the ingredients when I left work. Some of that crusty loaf bread you like, too. We'll have somethin' good to eat. You can take a shower—or a bath. Soak your feet if you want. Then, when you all comfortable, I'll give you the best damned foot massage you ever had in your life. And, if you want? I'll top it off with an orgasm good enough to get them sore toes curlin' right on up."
Carol snorted at him. She turned, craning her neck slightly, to smile at him. Her body shook with the shockwaves from her quiet laughter.
"Won't that hurt my feet more?" She asked.
"Way I'm looking at it, your mind'll be so damned blown that you won't remember your feet was hurtin' in the first place," Daryl said.
"You talk a big game," Carol said. "You sure you can deliver?"
Daryl hummed at her and shrugged his shoulders. He walked over to the pot and stirred it, not wanting the ingredients to the hearty stew to stick to the bottoms or side.
"I don't know," he said. "To be honest, I ain't never fucked me. You'd be the one to know if I could deliver on that promise or not."
Carol smiled and leaned back in her chair, clearly rearranging herself to be more comfortable.
"You can do more than just deliver on it," Carol said. "You might be being a bit too modest."
"Now I know you just yankin' my ass around," Daryl said. "Still—I might not can do all that, but…I'd do whatever you wanted. Make you feel as good as I could."
"You always make me feel good," Carol assured him.
"This stew's gonna make you an' Sprout both feel good," Daryl said with a laugh. "Sprout ain't opposed to the smell, is he?"
Carol smiled at him.
"No," she said. She let her hand drift down to her stomach. Daryl didn't miss it. In the few days since they'd learned of the Sprout's existence, Carol had been practically hooked on it, twenty-four seven. She touched herself often, though Daryl was certain that it was mostly something she wasn't really conscious of doing. She liked for him to touch her, too, and he made it a point to often brush his fingers against her stomach or to pay homage to their little one with soft kisses whenever they were in the bed together and his face was in close proximity to her tummy. She randomly reminded Daryl, too, that she was pregnant and Sprout was there. And she seemed so happy by his acknowledgement of the little life, that he never missed an opportunity to remind her that he was thinking about the baby. For two days, every time he had a moment, he sent her a little text message that asked 'How's Sprout," but he replaced the word with the tiny little two-leafed plant he'd found among his emojis. She liked it enough that she now replaced "Sprout" with the emoji every time she responded with some piece of information.
"Smell OK to him?"
"Smell's good," Carol said. "Delicious. I didn't realize how hungry I am." She laughed to herself. "My stomach's growling just thinking about it."
Daryl moved to start slicing the bread from the large loaf he'd bought.
"In that case, you get a big ass bowl," he said. "And two slices of bread—some extra butter on 'em, too."
"You're trying to make me fat," Carol said.
"I'm not. A little fat's good for Sprout. Helps pad the organs and stuff so—so the growin' happens easier."
"It does not," Carol scolded playfully. "You made that up."
Daryl laughed to himself as he smeared softened butter onto the bread.
"Maybe I did, but I'm sure it's true," Daryl said. "Besides—you're like way too skinny as it is. You really do need to gain a little weight. It won't hurt you to eat when you're hungry, Carol, and I bet you that Dr. Martin would agree with me if I was to call and ask her."
Carol didn't argue with him. When he placed bowls of stew on the table, silverware and napkins, and plates with the buttered bread, she didn't argue. When he brought her a glass of iced water, and sat down with a beer for himself, she only said "thank you" sincerely and commented on how absolutely wonderful everything smelled and looked—and how spoiled she felt by having him prepare it for her and serve it to her when she'd been at work for an hour and a half longer than she'd intended.
And she complimented the stew when she tasted it, and she bit a large bite off her buttered bread before she even turned the conversation away from the food at all.
It was good, but the best part about it was watching how pleased she looked with the meal and knowing that she was eating well—that he'd provided her with something that would nourish her and the baby. It almost made Daryl feel some kind of primitive satisfaction with himself.
"How'd it go with your friends?" Daryl asked after they'd been eating for a moment. He wanted to tell people about Sprout, as well, but he'd made the decision not to tell anyone except Merle until Carol had told her friends. He knew they were all really close, and he knew how things travelled in Living Springs. He didn't want them finding out, through some kind of grapevine, that Carol was pregnant and then feeling upset that she hadn't shared the news with them first. "I tried textin' you about it to check on things an' all…"
"I'm so sorry," Carol said, practically jumping as her memory was very clearly jogged. "I saw your text, and I meant to text you back, but…I didn't see it until right before the college class came in. I thought I'd get back to you as soon as we got things settled, but it didn't ever let up. I didn't even think about it. I barely even looked at my phone when I texted you that I was going to be late and, then, that I was on my way. I just wanted to get home."
"It's OK," Daryl assured her. He could actually feel her anxiety across the table. "I ain't pissed or nothin'. You got busy. That's it. Hell—you texted me you was late, and you texted you was comin'. Those two texts mattered more to me than anything else. At least I was able to just be here gettin' supper ready, and I didn't have to worry that somethin' had happened and you was in a ditch somewhere or nobody had bothered to get in touch with me to tell me that there was somethin' terrible goin' on."
A smile turned up the corner of Carol's mouth.
"Would you really be that worried?" She asked.
"You're over an hour outta your routine," Daryl said. "Yeah—I'da been worried. So, I appreciate your text to keep me from havin' a stroke over the whole damned thing. Now—tell me how it went with your friends."
"It went fine," Carol said, shrugging her shoulders.
"Michonne ain't said nothin' ugly to you?" Daryl asked. He'd been concerned. He knew that Michonne had said a couple things to Andrea that, according to Merle, had Andrea pretty strung up. Daryl didn't want her saying things to Carol to hurt her feelings and take away even one of the times when she practically danced over to him to remind him, in case he'd forgotten, that their little Sprout was growing like a little weed.
"No," Carol said, hesitating slightly.
"I don't feel quite convinced," Daryl said. "Everything OK?"
"She didn't really say anything to me," Carol said. "I mean—congratulations and that was it. Andrea—told her a little how she felt…about some of the things she'd kind of said to her. And Michonne explained herself, I guess. How she felt about everything."
"She ain't said no more shit to Andrea, did she?" Daryl asked.
Carol shrugged her shoulders.
"Kind of?"
"Kind of—like what?" Daryl asked.
"She just said that—and I mean, it's not that it's not true—she just said that it was fast, you know?"
"So?"
"And—well, that Tyreese knows what kind of man Merle is, and what kind of man he's always been. You know?"
"I think I know what kinda man Merle is prob'ly as good as anybody in the whole world," Daryl said.
Carol laughed to herself.
"She just said that he was the kind of man that, you know, Andrea met at Salty's. The kind of man that picked her up at Salty's and, I guess—the idea was kind of that he's been uncommitted his whole life and now this is so sudden…maybe he changes his mind. Maybe he leaves Andrea sort of holding all of this on her own and decides he wants something else or…or just doesn't want this at all."
Daryl's stomach felt uncomfortable and the bite of bread that he was chewing grew exponentially in his mouth. He finally managed to wash it down with water, but he didn't enjoy it. He wondered, for a second, if that was how Carol felt in those moments when Sprout would suddenly announce to her some great displeasure with food.
"Are you OK?" Carol asked, furrowing her brow with concern.
"First off," Daryl said. "If Michonne don't be nicer to Andrea, she's gonna see just exactly what kinda man Merle Dixon can be. He don't believe in goin' after women in no physical sense, but he ain't against tellin' one what he thinks of her if he gets to feelin' that it can't be avoided. I won't deny that Merle's done his share of runnin' around. And he's picked up more'n his share of women from Salty's to set 'em free out the back door like moths or some shit when he was done with 'em. But the way he's been with Andrea? Merle ain't never been like this before, and he don't seem in danger of changin' jack shit. His biggest damn concern right now is what the hell to do to make Andrea happy—and he's gonna be pissed the hell off if he gets wind that it's one person just steady pissin' in her cornflakes."
"Daryl…" Carol said.
"What the hell's it matter to her, anyway, what they do?" Daryl asked. "Ain't like she's raisin' their kid."
"Daryl…" Carol said.
"Fuckin'—Merle's talkin' about these classes he seen advertised at the Y. Got classes for like mommies and daddies or some shit like that. Some 'how to have a baby' class advertised. And he said there was one for just daddies. Like a whole class just on doin' it all right. Knowin' how to be the best helper you could be or some shit. Wants to sign up for all of 'em—the whole damn list of 'em. Wanted me to take 'em with him. And here we are talkin' that shit over at lunch and the whole damn time he don't know that Michonne's over there at the café fillin' Andrea's head full of ideas about maybe he just up and leaves her so he can go fuck somebody else."
"Daryl…" Carol said.
"What?" Daryl asked.
"Take some deep breaths? You're making me nervous."
Daryl realized that his heart was pounding. He was angry, and it was sobering that he might be concerning Carol. He appreciated her letting him know. He willed himself to relax.
"I'm sorry," he said. "For real—I am. Please don't be scared, OK? I ain't—I didn't mean nothin'. Eat your food. I don't wanna be the one that put you off it."
"It's OK," Carol assured him, her voice unusually soft. She picked up a piece of bread. He saw a very slight tremor clearly run through her hand.
"Shit—for real, I'm fuckin' sorry."
"It's OK," Carol repeated. "Andrea and Michonne—I think they made up. Andrea was pretty clear how she felt and, I think Michonne's going to stop saying anything. Basically, it's just a case of—you know. I hope it goes OK for you, but I won't say anything else. That kind of thing."
"It just bothers me," Daryl said. "On the one hand, I've never seen my brother this damn dedicated to anything before. Sucks that he could be that way and people could still be doubtin' his ass. Waitin' for him to fail."
"I don't think she wants him to fail," Carol said. "I think—Mich is very protective. And she's always been the Mama of the group. I think she just..hopes he won't fail. She doesn't want Andrea to be hurt."
"She's hurtin' her," Daryl said.
Carol shrugged her shoulders.
"Maybe we do that, sometimes. In trying to protect the ones we love, we hurt them." She hesitated a half a second. "Does Merle really want to do all those classes at the Y?"
"Yeah," Daryl said. "There's two of 'em. One you sign up with as a couple. Like me an' you and him an' Andrea would do it. It's like all the practical stuff about—you know—about havin' the baby and everything. And then there's like some kinda how to be a daddy class. He was wantin' us to do it together."
"Do you want to do it?" Carol asked.
"Would you mind? It would mean that I weren't always home when you're home," Daryl said.
Carol smiled at him.
"I think I can make an exception," she teased. "It could be good for you—if only that it's spending some time with Merle. Besides, I wouldn't hate having an evening here or there to just be quiet."
"I think I wanna do it," Daryl admitted.
"I think you should," Carol said. "You absolutely should. Are you—feeling better?"
"Just pisses me off," Daryl said. "Maybe I weren't never pickin' up women like Merle did. That shit weren't my thing. I mean—there was one or two from time to time, but…it weren't a thing. But I met you at Salty's. And we did things kinda damn fast. And—I ain't been tied down before. So—does that mean she's thinkin' the same thing about me? That I'ma just balk? Run away some mornin' 'cause I changed my mind?"
"Is that what you're going to do?" Carol asked, looking somewhat amused.
"How the hell can you ask me that?" Daryl asked, a bit of his earlier anger bubbling up.
"I'm just saying that—if you know that's not what you're going to do, and I believe that's not what you're going to do, then…what does it matter what Michonne thinks?"
Daryl sat back in his chair.
"It don't make you nervous?"
"That you're going to leave me?" Carol asked. Daryl nodded. "It—hadn't crossed my mind. Should it make me nervous, Daryl?"
"No," Daryl said.
"I was at Salty's, too," Carol said. "And—I brought you home with me. I haven't been in any relationships since Ed. Does it make you nervous that I might leave?"
"It's your house."
"It's our house," Carol said. "And you know what I mean."
"No," Daryl said. "At least—I would hope you wouldn't."
"I'm not going anywhere," Carol said.
"Me either," Daryl said.
"Then—whatever anybody says is just something they say," Carol said. "Right?"
"You're right," Daryl said, relaxing into his spot and picking at his bread. "She better lay offa Andrea, though, or it's gonna cause some trouble between Merle an' Ty at work."
"I think they've said their peace," Carol said. "I think Michonne's going to just—stay out of it. And I think—it's very sweet that Merle wants to take classes."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Merle didn't like takin' classes when he was in school, so…"
"He loves Andrea," Carol said. "And that's exactly how it should be."
"I think he still can't believe she loves him."
Carol smiled.
"She does," she said, nodding her head.
"It's somethin' he and I have in common—it's hard to believe the best thing that happened to you can be real," Daryl said. "It's still hard for me to believe, sometimes, that you love me."
Carol's smiled renewed itself.
"Oh—I certainly do," she said. "Finish your food, Daryl. I need a shower and…I was thinking it might be a good time for the both of us to play like…maybe like we're stranded in some tropical rainforest. Bathing under the waterfall together."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Nobody around to see what the hell we do," he said. "Maybe like—we even gone a lil' bit wild, we been stranded out there so long. Just us on some island."
Carol smiled.
"Nothing to do except—make love under the waterfall?"
"You think we can pull it off?" Daryl asked.
"I certainly think we ought to try," Carol said with a shrug before she smirked at him and took another large bite of the bread she'd dipped in her stew.
