AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"Are you sure that my pants look OK?" Carol asked.
Daryl wrapped her in his arms as soon as the truck door was closed. She laughed, happily, and he squeezed her. He kissed the side of her face.
"You look perfect," he assured her.
"Daryl—you're having professional pictures done and the only reason my pants fit is because of a hair elastic that I borrowed from Andrea," Carol said. She was doing her best to frown at him, he could tell, but she couldn't help but smile.
"That's my favorite damn thing about your pants today," Daryl said. "Because the fact that we had to drive you to get that elastic band means that Sprout's doin' a little more sproutin'."
Daryl winked at her and hugged her against him again. She came, wrapping her arms around him in a sincere hug.
"I love you, woman," he offered.
"I love you, too," she echoed.
They'd gone the night before to pick up their shirts. There was a place downtown that was selling just about any color plaid that you wanted. They had matching red and green plaid shirts—long-sleeved and button-up. They were perfect. Daryl was happy with them because they fit his vision of how it ought to be for this photo shoot. Carol was happy with them because her shirt was comfortable and loose.
She'd forgotten to try on her jeans, though, and this morning, after Daryl had gotten dressed and was making breakfast, he'd heard Carol panicking.
Her jeans didn't quite fit. The button just didn't want to make it. They'd zip most of the way up, but the button just wasn't having it. She'd demonstrated that she could force it, but they'd be tight. She and Daryl both were afraid that forcing the pants to be buttoned so tightly would hurt both Carol and the baby—and there was no way they were taking that chance. In a panic, Carol had called Andrea, and Andrea had a great idea. It had worked. Now Carol's jeans had more give than before. They were buttoned with the help of a black hair elastic.
And Daryl couldn't get over how much emotion that knowledge stirred up in his gut.
Sprout was growing, and they had evidence.
And Carol had been a little teary-eyed over the fact that her pants didn't fit, but she'd done a little smiling, too, when Daryl had driven part of the way here with his hand resting over the spot where the elastic held her jeans loosely in place.
Daryl caught Carol's hand and squeezed it. Her smile grew to its full potential and she squeezed his hand back.
"Come on—want'cha to meet this girl—Jordan. She's gonna do like our whole bundle."
"Our bundle?" Carol asked.
"We gettin' these, then the spring ones when Sprout's a lil' bigger, the summer ones right 'fore Sprout comes, and then the ones once Sprout is here and like…brand new." Carol made a face at him. "What—what's that mean?"
"You already—booked all of those?" Carol asked.
"Yeah," Daryl said. "I mean—we gotta like confirm dates, but…I told her what we wanted. She does all kinds of other ones, too, but…I chose them right off."
"Daryl that's…so sweet," Carol said.
"OK—please don't cry," Daryl said. "Because—if you do, you gonna want to work on your make-up again, and we're already here." He felt relieved when she laughed instead of crying. For a second there, it had looked like it could definitely go either way. "You not mad that I told her all that?"
"No, I'm not mad," Carol said.
"I told her what we wanted for this one," Daryl said. "And she's seen all kinds of the movies I like, and she said she knows exactly what the hell we gonna like for this."
"I'm sure she will," Carol confirmed. With her fingers entwined with his, Carol walked with Daryl toward the open field where Jordan was waiting for them. From the distance—out on her family's land—Daryl could see her setting up her equipment and props. One of the props, which was already quite easy to see, was her grandfather's old red 1948 Ford pick-up. He let Jordan use it for pictures. Another was a tree, growing out on the land, that was decorated for Christmas.
Daryl had found Jordan by calling around, looking for people who did these kinds of photos. He'd called the place uptown where the photographers did the photos for yearbooks, sports, and formal events, and the guy who worked there told him what he wanted was someone independent. He'd given him Jordan's number, and Daryl had talked to her on the phone. She'd seemed excited, when he'd explained who he and Carol were, and what they wanted, to be the one to do their pictures.
She waved at them as they walked up from where she'd told them to park. Daryl squeezed Carol's hand and waved back.
He hadn't seen Jordan before, and had only talked to her over the phone. When they were face to face with her, Daryl was surprised to find that she was actually quite young. He guessed she was in her twenties. It didn't matter, though, because she'd sent him some examples of pictures she'd done, and he liked her style—not that he had much with which to compare it.
"You must be Daryl," she said, offering a hand to Daryl. He shook it and nodded.
"This is Carol," Daryl said. "And—you can't see too much of Sprout, but…he's with her."
Jordan smiled a wide smile and shook Carol's hand. Out here, in the sunlight, with the cold bringing more color to her cheeks, Carol was quite possibly the most beautiful woman in the world, so he was happy that Jordan recognized that.
"Daryl told me you were really pretty," Jordan offered, "but—I didn't realize he was telling the truth!"
Carol blushed, and she thanked Jordan, but he could tell it was hard for her to swallow the compliment.
"You're sweet," Carol offered. "And he's just—biased."
"That's how he ought to be, right? I talked to Daryl, and I know what he sort of had in mind, but…do you have anything you definitely want…or don't want?"
"There's a hair elastic holdin' her pants in place," Daryl offered quickly.
"What?" Jordan asked.
"Daryl…" Carol warned.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"No, I'm serious," Daryl said. "Just hear me out. Just this mornin' we realized—her pants was too tight. Sprout's growin' and all, so…they too snug. So, her best friend give her a hair tie to give her a lil' more room."
"We can do something with that," Jordan said with a smile.
"I don't know…" Carol said.
"Something modest," Jordan assured her. She winked at Carol. Daryl didn't know if she really meant to, or if it was something of a knee-jerk reaction. "Something sweet. What about you, Carol? Anything—you absolutely want or don't want?"
"Nothing immodest," Carol said quickly. "And—I guess…"
"What?" Jordan urged when Carol hesitated.
"It's embarrassing," Carol said. "And it's probably cheesy and…"
"Sometimes cheesy pictures are the best ones," Jordan pressed.
"It's just…" Carol said. Daryl squeezed her hand and nodded at her, trying to give her the fortitude to say what she wanted. He knew, thought Jordan didn't, that Carol could sometimes have a very difficult time making her wishes known. "We're both—so happy—about Sprout. And I guess…I've seen a lot of these pictures before. And maybe it's not the right time, but—I just love it when…Daryl touches my…you know…my belly."
Carol's face was nearly red enough to match her shirt, and Daryl knew that Jordan would have to give her a moment to settle back down before they started anything serious. Jordan smiled warmly, though.
"Don't worry," Jordan assured her. "After what Daryl's told me? And working with such a good-looking couple? We'll have lots and lots of pictures appreciating your little Sprout. I guarantee it, or your money back," she said, laughing.
Carol seemed relieved that her request didn't sound ridiculous, and Daryl was relieved that Jordan seemed to genuinely enjoy what she did.
"Alright—I've got some ideas so let's talk about a few of them before we get started," Jordan said, waving both of them over to an area where she was keeping her props.
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Carol had rarely felt beautiful before, but she actually felt extremely beautiful that day, which was interesting given that the entire photo shoot was done in a field, and her outfit was nothing more than white sneakers, jeans, and a button-up plaid shirt that matched Daryl in every way except for their shoes.
Her whole life, Carol had almost hated to have her picture taken. She'd disliked her body and everything about her looks. She'd scrutinized every dimple, freckle, and slightly crooked tooth. She'd disliked her nose, her mouth, her lips, and even her ears. She'd criticized her breasts, her butt, and especially—especially—her tummy that seemed soft no matter how many crunches she did or snacks she denied herself.
Ed had only made Carol feel worse about herself. Anything she might have found to like about herself was rendered something she hated when Ed got through telling her how awful and hideous she was—how he fucked her only because she was his to fuck whenever and however he wanted, and because he had needs like any man, but not for any real genuine attraction to her.
Taking the pictures with Daryl, though, Ed didn't exist and, really, he might never have existed. Taking the pictures with Daryl, Carol felt beautiful. And Jordan, even if she was doing it because it was part of her livelihood, made Carol feel beautiful, too.
Instead of hating the pictures, as she thought she would, Carol loved taking them. She didn't feel pressured to pretend she was having a good time. Her laughter and her face-aching smile were genuine when Daryl carried her across the field and when he danced with her, with no music, for the photographs. She enjoyed snuggling next to him in the back of the pick-up truck. She didn't feel embarrassed sharing kisses with him in just the right places for Jordan to catch a certain light. She didn't feel ashamed of the focus going to her before-hated soft tummy as Jordan instructed Daryl, standing behind Carol with his arms lovingly wrapped around her and his head against her shoulder, to make a heart with their hands together—cupping what there was of Sprout to frame—their rings shining in the sunlight.
She didn't even hate the pictures Jordan took of her lying on the ground with her shirt pulled up just enough to show the elastic holding the button closed on her pants, and Daryl's face leaned against her as they looked at each other.
Carol had been the one to lovingly chalk "Sprout Dixon, Coming in June!" on the little chalkboard they held for some of their pictures, and Daryl had chalked "Our greatest gift" on the board to hold for other pictures, while Carol had held a small prop present in front of her stomach and kissed the man that, really, felt like the greatest gift she'd ever received in her entire life.
Given the time of their arrival, and the length of the shoot that Daryl had arranged, they left as the sun was setting—just late enough for them to catch a few well-lit pictures, but early enough that Jordan wouldn't be packing her things in the dark—and Daryl opened the truck door for Carol and helped her inside.
"That weren't the worst thing ever, was it?" He asked as they drove home, teasing her about her near-breakdown that morning when she'd realized that her pants were too tight and, suddenly, she'd been concerned that the entire thing would be a disaster.
"We still don't know what the pictures are going to look like, you know," Carol offered.
"I know—I liked takin' them with you," Daryl said.
"I liked taking them with you," Carol said, reaching for his free hand where it rested on her thigh. She intertwined their fingers. She had never imagined how much she'd like just holding someone's hand—until that hand had belonged to Daryl.
"I know you're beautiful, and Sprout's already so damned photogenic it's ridiculous," Daryl said. Carol laughed to herself at his teasing.
"You're handsome," she offered. "Maybe Sprout gets it from you."
Daryl moved his hand, and she relinquished his fingers, to pat her stomach. She rested her hand over his.
"Does kinda look like me," he teased. "Big head an' all."
"Asshole," Carol said. Daryl laughed, and pulled his hand back so that he could roll the window down and light a cigarette for himself.
"My point is—I don't think the pictures can turn out but so bad," Daryl said. "And I'ma still wanna have 'em."
"You like pictures," Carol mused.
Daryl hummed. His expression went serious for a moment, and he nipped at his thumbnail before he replaced it with the cigarette and took a drag.
"Any particular reason why?" Carol pressed.
"Stuff gets gone," Daryl said after a moment. "Stuff—gets gone. What'cha wanna keep—gets gone. Even people—get gone. Every minute, no matter how much you love it and want to keep it forever, is gone in a minute. But a picture? You get to keep it. Look at it over and over again. As many times as you want. And even if the minute's gone or…whatever? When you're lookin' at your picture? It feels right there—you know? Like the minute's still right there."
Carol opened the glove box and reached for some of the napkins that she knew Daryl kept in there. She blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes.
"I didn't mean to do that," Daryl offered.
"It's OK," she said. "They're the good kind. Just—love—leaking out of my eyes."
Daryl smiled at her words. He gestured.
"Pull that down," he said.
Carol reached up and flipped the visor on her side—she never bothered pulling it down because she never felt she needed to see that much when Daryl was driving, and the sun never bothered her badly enough to flip it. What she saw only renewed her tears. There were two pictures stuck up there—one taken from their courthouse wedding, and one that was a photograph Daryl had taken of the sonogram picture.
"They'll let you print out as many as you want at the drugstore," Daryl said. "Just a quarter a piece." He ignored her dabbing at her eyes with more of his napkins. Now that he knew they were good tears, he was content to let her have as many of them as she needed.
"Everything's so temporary," Carol said.
"It is," Daryl confirmed.
Carol leaned over and rubbed her face against his arm, confident that most of her make-up had already been wiped off by now.
"I don't want us to be temporary," Carol said. "I don't want this to be temporary."
Daryl hummed.
"The minutes might be temporary," Daryl said. "And—that's why the hell we gotta have all the pictures we can. But I love you, Carol. And—that shit ain't temporary. Not for me."
"Not for me, either," Carol offered.
Daryl hummed again.
"Then—there's nothin' to worry about. Because—even if the minutes are temporary? You and me? That's like…all the way to forever."
Carol smiled to herself and rested her head against his arm, closing her eyes to relish the moment that would, as Daryl said, be gone in a minute.
"Yeah," she confirmed.
"Think that's long enough?" Daryl asked, teasingly. Carol laughed to herself.
"It's a start," she offered.
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AN: I've had a few people question Daryl's (sometimes viewed as "possibly strange") need to take pictures of the wedding cake, baby cake, etc…I hope this does a little to explain why he's very "we need to take a picture of everything" all the time.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Don't forget to let me know what you think!
