AN: Here we are, another chapter here. The first of the holiday getaway ridiculous self-indulgence (or something like that).

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

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Daryl had suggested that they try the large bathtub on for size—complete with Carol's romantic touch of chilled sparkling apple juice in the wine glasses they found in the cabin's cabinets. It was Carol, though, that requested they wait and, instead, enjoy that after the little treat she'd prepared for him. She was in the mood, it seemed, for a little loving.

Daryl was smart enough to know that you don't argue when your wife wants to give you a treat of any kind, and you certainly don't argue when good loving is on offer.

He gave her some space, as she requested, and let her have the run of the little bathroom and bedroom to clean up and prepare whatever was on her mind. Before she slipped in there, he had taken the time to do a quick hitting of the proverbial high points with some soap and water, and then he made his way into the kitchen to graze on a couple of their snacks while he waited on Carol to do whatever she needed.

When Carol finally called him back into the bedroom, he came in to find that she'd already turned back the bedcovers, and then, apparently, she'd slipped back into the bathroom and closed the door all the way except for a crack.

"You comin' out or…I'm on my own?" Daryl asked, stripping out of his clothes down to his underwear. There was no need to pretend they didn't know how this would end—no matter how long it took them to get where they were going. He sat on the bed, and after a moment of thinking about it, he pulled himself up to rest with his back against the pillow.

"This is—more dramatic than I thought it would be," Carol offered from the bathroom. "But it's also not exactly as dramatic as I wanted. It's not quite right…and I'm working up my courage."

Daryl swallowed back his amusement. He reminded himself that Carol was sometimes sensitive and, lately, she was a bit more sensitive about her appearance. Daryl rarely felt overly sensitive about his looks, but he could easily remind himself of the care that she needed by simply thinking about how she had made him feel about his back—the thing he preferred to hide from everyone—and how she'd insisted that the ugly scars were beautiful to her.

Daryl liked the way her fingertips felt gliding over the scars—even with that strange sensation that it sent through him—and he liked the way she sometimes curled her body against his, hugging his back like she was hugging who he'd been when he'd received the scars—someone who hadn't had too many good hugs like that, and someone who couldn't have ever imagined that she'd be there, one day, to hold him whenever he liked.

Hardly anyone saw his back or knew about it. Andrea, perhaps, could imagine that Daryl and Merle had a good chance at being a matching set—and Merle wasn't shy about showing off the streaks that marked him—but there was nobody ever picking at old wounds and tearing off scabs in the same way that people could sometimes hit Carol's tender spots.

Daryl could be infinitely tender and patient when Carol needed it to deal with her healing. He knew, after all, that healing was never really complete. And he could count himself lucky, really, that, unlike Carol, he'd never had to heal from the cruelty of someone he trusted and chose to be his lover. He'd never have to deal with the feeling like, maybe, he'd failed himself by making a bad choice. Daryl would never have to deal with what Carol had to deal with—with someone else stepping into that role and having to learn that Daryl, even if he stood in the place that had once been Ed's, was not the monster that had hurt her.

"You got any courage gathered up at all?" Daryl asked. Carol hummed. "Then, come on out. I got the rest of it out here for you."

Luckily, Daryl's words amused Carol. When she opened the door, she was smiling—that's what he saw first. Her face was red, though. It didn't take him long to see that it somewhat matched the red in what she was wearing. The piece of lingerie was red and white. It could have just as easily been something for Valentine's Day—or just a particularly red and white day—as it was for Christmas. It was in two pieces, with a sheer piece of fabric that hung from the top piece to somewhat cover the bottom.

Daryl had seen just about everything that Carol had packed into their box of treasures at the house, including all her lingerie, but he hadn't seen this before.

Carol stayed by the door for the moment.

"It's maternity lingerie," Carol said. "Baby lingerie," she added with a giggle. "The woman on the website was beautiful. Her skin was perfect, and her belly looked perfect…"

"Not as damn perfect as you do," Daryl offered. "They oughta call your ass up. Get you to put on their stuff for their website." He shook his head. "Never mind…I don't like that. Wouldn't want all them people lookin' at you in your underwear."

"No?" Carol asked. She straightened up just a touch. The corner of her mouth curved upward. Daryl saw the tip of her tongue brush quickly between her teeth—the fastest evidence that she was feeling a little froggy, at least.

Daryl turned and straightened his body, bringing himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

"There's a lotta shit I am, and there's a lotta shit I ain't," he said. "Jealous is one of the things I am. Especially when it comes to you. I can admit that."

She relaxed a touch more.

"I didn't know that you were jealous."

"Me either," Daryl admitted. "Not until I was saying it, and I realized it was true."

"I haven't given you any reason to be jealous, have I?"

"No," Daryl said. "I didn't mean—I'm like actively jealous of something right now. Just—I don't wanna share you. Not like that. I mean—you got your friends and all, but…that weren't what I mean."

"I think I understand what you mean," Carol said. "And—I don't want to share you, either. I'm not asking you to share me. Not like that."

"So, only I can see how damn good you look in your candy cane, baby-showin'-off, underwear," Daryl teased.

Carol blew her breath out like she was trying to steady herself and pressed her palm against her stomach.

"I didn't realize—the way this is cut? It accentuates everything."

"Ain't that what it's supposed to do?" Daryl asked. "It's for wearin' when you're pregnant, right? To draw attention."

"But the woman on the website looked—pretty. And pregnant. I look fat."

Daryl hummed.

"You feelin' upset about that again?" He asked. Carol didn't have to nod or respond in any way. He nodded for her. "Carol—the way I understand it is that growin' is part of the whole process. For you and for Sprout. And for you to get as big as whatever woman it was that you saw and wanted to look like? You gotta do more growin', but you gotta like go through the stages."

"This isn't pretty," Carol said, patting her stomach.

"It's fuckin' beautiful," Daryl said. "And I don't wanna hear another word against it. Don't be mean to Sprout. Him growin' is what makes that, you know. And he's doin' his best. He's growin' just as steady as he can. And he's doin' a damn fine job of it, so we won't say anything else to him about it. You don't wanna discourage him or make him think he's doin' a bad job."

"Sprout's never bad," Carol said. "I'm just—ready for you to be able to look at me and say she's pregnant, you know? Instead of…she's just fat."

"Well, I look at you every day an' say 'she's pregnant.' Don't give a damn what nobody else says," Daryl said. "We know. Now—is this for me?" He gestured toward her.

"I wanted something to surprise you," Carol said. "Something maternity—baby. Something Christmassy. This was the best they had."

"And it's damn good," Daryl confirmed.

"Are you happy?" Carol asked, walking toward Daryl when he reached his hands out in her direction. He spread his legs to give her room to walk up and lean against him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I've been happier since I met you than I was in the whole rest of my life combined," Daryl said.

Carol leaned softly against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He hugged her. He took a deep breath and settled comfortably into the moment of simply resting there with their bodies so close together. He loved the feeling of her in his arms.

"What if you weren't?" Carol asked.

"Weren't what?"

"Happy."

"Then I guess I wouldn't be happy," Daryl said. "What kinda question is that?"

Carol pulled away enough to face him, but not to truly put any distance between them. He kept his hands on her, letting them affectionately travel from her sides—where the indention marking her waist was disappearing, even though he didn't point that out to her—to her arms. She didn't seem to mind the circuit, or the fact that Daryl often felt the need to keep his hands occupied, so he also dared to add into it the occasional quick brushing of his fingertips against her belly.

"I worried you wouldn't be happy with the trip," Carol said, entirely unbothered by his fidgeting need to touch her and caress her while she stood in front of him. "I worried—you wouldn't be happy with what I packed. With this. With the cabin. I want you to be happy, Daryl, but…I worried you wouldn't be. And I've been thinking about it. Because—Michonne mentioned that of course everything goes well as long as you're happy because everything is in your favor…"

"And it's got you thinkin' about what if I weren't happy," Daryl said, cutting her off and finishing the statement before she could force herself to work her way through it. Carol nodded. "What are you afraid would happen?"

"I honestly don't know," Carol admitted. "I thought—at first—that Ed did the things he did because he wasn't happy. He wasn't happy with me. With our life…with our daughter."

"You right about one thing," Daryl said. "He weren't happy. But Ed? He weren't happy with somethin' inside of him. You don't get to be that kinda son of a bitch because…you wanted tomato on your sandwich an' your wife ain't put it on there."

"I put tomato on your sandwich, didn't I?" Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself and squeezed her arms.

"I love you more'n I can ever fuckin' say," he said. "And—that's all the hell you gotta ever remember. But—stay with me here, OK? You put tomato on my sandwich. It was just an example."

"I've been forgetting things," Carol said with a frown.

"I read about that, you know," Daryl said. "I found this thing on my phone. Goes through like all the little weeks of pregnancy. Has these like little informational articles and shit. That's called pregnancy brain, because they ain't creative for shit, and it's all Sprout's fault."

Carol smiled sincerely.

"You're reading about Sprout on your phone?" She asked.

"Every damn week," Daryl said. "And in between. Like I said—it's got other stuff about like you an' what you're doin' and stuff. Except—it thinks it's me. I'm studyin' up before me and Merle start them Daddy classes. I'm not gonna be the dumb fucker that's last in the class. But—but—we a damn pair, because that weren't what the hell I was talkin' about. Listen, I was sayin' that…Ed weren't happy with fuckin' Ed. He was takin' that shit out on you, but it weren't never nothin' you did. Same as my old man. Full of fuckin' rage. Angry at his own damn self or—God and the universe—or I don't know what the fuck…but…what the hell Ed done? That was about Ed. It weren't because you were human."

"Human?"

"When you worry about…fuckin' up and not makin' me happy? What I'm hearin' is you're worried I'ma get pissed off because you're a human being. A human being that just ain't gonna always make everyone happy because it ain't possible to always be perfect."

"Yeah," Carol said after a moment. She nodded. "I guess—maybe that's kind of what it is."

"You're a human being," Daryl said. "A woman. A pregnant woman, right now." He smiled at her and winked at her, so that she smiled back at him. He felt her relaxing as he squeezed the muscles in her arms. "My best girl and my wife. You make me happy. You always make me happy, deep down, even when you don't on the surface. And even when you don't…I still love you."

"I love you, too."

"I know I don't always make you happy," Daryl said. "Hell—I worried the whole way up here, too, that the cabin wouldn't be right. You weren't gonna like it. Maybe you'd have rather we stayed at home or…somethin'."

"I guess we're a lot alike in some ways?" Carol asked. "Even when I'm not happy about everything—every little detail? I'm happy with you, Daryl."

"You ain't gonna leave me while I'm asleep?" Daryl asked. "Take Sprout and go. Leave me wakin' up to find out that the whole damn thing is over and you just gone?"

Carol furrowed her brow at him.

"Are you really asking me that?" Carol asked.

"You ain't the only one that's got worries," Daryl said.

Carol kissed him in response. It was a tender kiss—long and lingering. Her fingertips massaged his thighs as she kissed him.

"If—you never hurt me…or Sprout," she said, as soon as their lips parted, "then I will never…never…leave you."

Daryl's heart beat fast at the sincere promise. His chest flooded with a relief that he hadn't really imagined he was waiting to feel.

"Of course—you'd probably just tell my ass to leave since you own the house and all. Tell me to get my ass out."

"No," Carol said. "But—maybe it's time we started seriously talking about building our house? Together?"

"You serious?" Daryl asked. Carol nodded. Daryl shook his head. "No. I don't want you to lose your independence or…I don't know the right word. But I don't want you to lose that shit. You bought that house after everything with Ed. It's important."

"Just knowing you care is enough, I think," Carol said. "My independence doesn't seem so important when I can trust you not to take advantage of my dependence."

"I need your ass as much as you're ever gonna need me," Daryl said. Carol smiled at him. "Feelin' better?" She nodded.

"I still feel fat, and this still doesn't look like I wanted it to look. I really wanted to look pregnant," Carol admitted.

"You look plenty pregnant to me," Daryl said. "But bring your ass up here in this bed and I'll see if there's anything I can do to get'cha more pregnant."

Carol laughed.

"I don't think that's possible," Carol said.

"Maybe not," Daryl admitted. "But the tryin' oughta be a decent way to spend an hour or two."

"An hour or two? Someone must be feeling their Wheaties," Carol teased.

"I'm all fueled up," Daryl teased back. "My wife made me a hell of a sandwich—two of 'em, when I told her I was still hungry."

Carol crawled onto the bed with him and, perched on her knees, allowed Daryl to dip his head and trail kisses across the tops of her breasts where the lingerie forced them upward and closer together. He trailed his tongue down her cleavage.

"She sounds like a good wife," Carol said, groaning quietly at Daryl's work.

"Best damn one I could ask for," Daryl said, pushing her back toward the pillows. She went willingly, unfolding her legs. He moved the silky see-through piece of material aside so that he could kiss her belly—swollen with their child, even though she'd insist that it didn't look that way at all. He took his time, nuzzling against her skin between kisses. She raised her hips toward him—proof that she approved of his affections—and her hands tugged at his hair as she raked her fingertips against his scalp and grabbed at handfuls of his hair.

She moaned her satisfaction at simply having him love the parts of her that most worried her—and he was happy to love them, because he did love them, but also because he knew that loving them…all of them…meant that she wanted to stay there, with him, always, loving him back.

"It's probably because she's got the best husband…" Carol offered, her voice taking on a slightly husky tone with her pleasure and the anticipation of what was to come. Daryl stopped his loving only long enough to smile to himself at her confirmation of what he'd been thinking, and then he responded to her by simply slipping lower to slide the candy cane striped panties to the side and out of his way.