AN: I've been admittedly stuck on this one, but I'm hoping to be breaking through that a bit.

I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

111

Despite the influx of men that they'd seen entering the building, when Merle and Daryl had finally worked their way around the dimly lit maze of hallways to the room indicated on the flier, they found that they were the only ones there except for an older man who was fussing with the arrangement of several plates on a fold out table.

Merle cleared his throat loudly.

"This the daddy class?" He asked when the old man looked at him.

Daryl immediately recognized the old man. He knew him from around town and, if he wasn't mistaken, he'd maybe done some work for him before. He rarely remembered people's names, but he seldom forgot faces entirely.

The old man smiled to see them there, and he wiped his hands on his pants before walking toward them.

"Fatherhood and marriage," he said. "Really—family man discussions, I suppose. Anything's welcome. I thought we could just put our heads together to come up with something that might be beneficial to everyone. It's still a little early. I'm hoping the turn-out's decent. Hershel Greene."

"Merle Dixon," Merle said, accepting Hershel's offered hand to shake.

"Daryl Dixon," Daryl said, following suit. "We're brothers."

"Both…married?" Hershel asked.

"And expectin'," Daryl said, nodding his head. The flier hadn't specified that to be a requirement. In fact, it was somewhat vague as to any of the expectations for the class.

"At the same time?"

"It would seem we're tryin' to do everything together," Merle said with a laugh. "Lived together up until lil' brother here got a wild hair. You could say his ass set the whole thing in motion."

Daryl laughed.

"Merle didn't lag too far behind, as I recall."

Hershel looked amused.

"Well—brothers are certainly allowed here," Hershel said. "Anyone is."

"Not to be damn rude about it," Merle said, "but it don't look like no damn body's coming."

Hershel looked around a little mournfully.

"Well—it is the first night," he said. "There's still plenty of opportunity for others to come. So—if you've got friends, you might mention it to them before next week."

"We saw a lot of men comin' in," Daryl said. "Figured they were, you know, headed in here."

"That's the AA meeting," Hershel said. "Three doors down on the right. If you have need of them. They also meet on Thursdays."

"We'll put that in our back pockets in case such a need comes up," Merle said.

"My wife made cookies," Hershel said, waving toward the table. "And there's pretzels and sweet tea."

Daryl and Merle both walked into the room, and Merle did go to peruse the snack table. Daryl didn't, and Hershel tried once more to offer him refreshments.

"It's nothin' against your snacks," Daryl said. "It's just that—I been eatin' cookies from The Gypsy Rose Café for days straight and I'm just about over sweets."

Hershel smiled.

"I love that restaurant," Hershel said. "My wife does, too."

"Yeah?" Daryl asked, biting back his smile.

"It's the best. You know, it's not on the menu, but I love salami. I never eat the stuff at home. It's not that good for you, but every time we go there, the lady will make me the best salami sandwich you've ever had. You just have to ask, and she'll make you almost anything you can think of."

Daryl didn't try to hide his smile.

"Pretty woman?" He asked. "Blue eyes and silver hair?"

Hershel nodded and smiled.

"I think she owns the café," Hershel said.

"I know she does," Daryl said. "She's my wife."

"Your wife? Isn't that a small world…" Hershel mused.

"More like a small town," Merle offered. "Livin' Springs ain't that big. You go 'round the corner to get your hair cut and you'll run right into my wife."

"Carol's her name," Daryl said, ignoring Merle. "My wife. And I'll tell her that you like her salami sandwiches. I'm sure she'll know who you are."

"You do that," Hershel said. "My wife likes her hot chocolate. This was my wife's idea. She thought that I needed something to do post-retirement, and the farm wasn't enough. I needed something social to do. Those were her words." He shrugged his shoulders. "Get out and interact with other people. Teach something. She teaches some little classes here. That's what got me started with the whole idea. They're always looking for new groups and new classes. The longer the list, the more impressive it looks. I didn't want to teach an actual class, but I thought this was something I might have some ideas about. Besides—you never reach a point where you can't learn anything from others when it comes to your family."

"Even if there's nobody else that shows up," Daryl said, "that's what the hell we came here for. Advice. We'd be happy to take it, even if nobody else wants it."

"And if there ain't no real class," Merle said, munching his way through a cookie, "then at least we can't fuckin' fail."

Hershel laughed at that.

"You couldn't fail anyway," he said.

"That's what the hell you think," Merle muttered. "You ought not to underestimate my ability to fail at shit. Good damn cookies, though."

111

"It's going to be perfect," Carol said, "I know it is. You helped with everything, and I know you wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect. But I can't picture a thing. I just don't have that kind of vision, Daryl. Not like you do."

Daryl laughed at her.

Having friends in all kinds of places paid off regularly, and this was a situation where it was going to pay off again. Their house would be done well, and it would be done more quickly than it would have if Daryl had just been another random guy instead of someone who drank the occasional beer and bullshitted with people in just about every blue-collar job in town.

Turning Carol and taking his position behind her, Daryl put his hands over her eyes. She laughed—giggled, really—and wrapped her fingers around his wrists.

"What are you doing?" She asked. Daryl felt her tense.

"Just relax, woman," Daryl said. "You're OK. Sprout's OK, too. You think I'd let either one of you get hurt? Not on my whole fuckin' life."

"No," Carol said confidently. "I know that. But I still don't know what you're doing."

"Then, it looks like you're just gonna have to trust my ass," Daryl said. "Relax. I got you. I got you both."

To demonstrate her willingness to relax, Carol drew in a deep breath, held it for a second, and let it out slowly. Daryl could feel some of her muscles relax against him. He smiled to himself.

"Move with me," he said. "Forward…forward…easy. I won't let you fall, and I won't let you run into anything."

He continued, guiding her where he wanted her to be. She moved with him. At first it was slow, and a little clumsy, but soon so she got the hang of his movements and they matched steps.

"You wake up in the morning," Daryl said, turning Carol's body. "You make love to your handsome ass husband because you just can't control yourself when you see his face in the morning." Carol laughed, and Daryl echoed her laughter.

"I like this story so far," she teased, making no move to remove his hands from her eyes.

"Me too," he assured her. "You get outta bed. Stretch. Walk over to the window. Look out. Open your eyes, Carol."

He moved his hands, and Carol smiled. She looked at the view, and then she looked around before settling her eyes on him. Daryl swallowed. That smile—the soft, truly happy smile that she was giving him—made him feel like a million dollars. It made him feel like the best man in the world. It made him feel like he'd done everything right to get here right now, and like he could never do anything wrong ever again.

He'd do anything he had to do to keep that smile on her face. He caught her face, and he kissed her. The smile returned as soon as the kiss broke.

"This is our bedroom?" She asked, her voice soft and musical, as though it had picked up the characteristics of that beautiful smile.

"It is," Daryl said. "It will be. We could put our bed like right there. You like it?"

"As long as you'll be here, I do," Carol said.

"Every night and every day," Daryl said. "Until you're completely fuckin' sick of my ass and you kick me out."

"Then—it looks like you're stuck with me," Carol said.

Daryl tapped her shoulder to turn her and eased his hands back over her eyes. She smiled as soon as his hands were settled, and she leaned back into him this time. He directed her again, stopping when he was ready.

"Of course—first thing you always gotta do when you wake up is…"

"Coffee?" Carol asked.

"Bathroom," Daryl said. "I have never known you to go anywhere else except straight to piss when you wake up."

"Or to throw up," Carol offered. "Don't forget about Sprout, Daryl."

Daryl laughed quietly.

"I'm never gonna forget about Sprout," Daryl assured her. He dropped his hands. "So—here is the master bathroom. Gonna have the large shower like you want. And a tub of your dreams. And our first night here, I'm runnin' for you so you can relax and soak. Read one of them good books so you can tell me what we're acting out when you get out."

Carol laughed and looked around the space that, at the moment, was nothing more than a marked off indication of what would be their bathroom.

"Double sinks?"

"Nothin' less," Daryl assured her. "You ready to keep going?"

"Guide away," Carol said with a smirk. Daryl returned his hands to her eyes and guided her onward in their little tour. His favorite thing about walking with her like this was the way her body felt right up against his, moving with his steps in almost perfect harmony.

"So—you done gone to the bathroom, and now…"

"Coffee?" Carol asked. She giggled at her own question and tightened her fingers around his arm for a moment.

"You were on your way. You were. You were gonna go make some coffee, but you didn't get there. Because you heard somethin' that you couldn't ignore. You heard a lil' Sprout wakin' up for the morning and wonderin' where her mama was, so you couldn't keep on going. Instead, you stopped by her little nursery, and you got her outta her little crib and told her good morning, and you got settled in that rocking chair you're going to have to feed her some breakfast and look out the window at the morning."

Daryl moved his hands and, this time, when Carol turned to look at him, she wrapped her arms around him. Between them, he could feel Sprout—or at least Carol's belly—pressing against him. He leaned to kiss her and she gave him a soft, sweet kiss in return.

"This is…our baby girl's room?" Carol asked.

"Sure is," Daryl said. "Or—it will be when the walls go up."

Carol leaned her head against Daryl's chest.

"I like just being in her room," Carol admitted. Daryl hugged her tightly and fitted his face into the crook of her neck. He closed his eyes.

"We can stand here as long as you want. Hell—you want—I'll go get us some lunch and we'll have a picnic right here. We can stay until they get here to work later."

"There aren't even any walls," Carol said, her quiet laughter muffled as she nuzzled Daryl affectionately.

"Not yet, but soon. And when there are, how you wanna paint them walls? You wanna—do it a solid color? Put some little animals up in here or…what do you think Sprout would like?" Carol laughed again and renewed her nuzzling. Daryl closed his eyes. He loved the feeling of her loving him like that—rooting into him like she was as close as she could be, but still desperately wanted to be closer.

"Sprout'll be just a baby," Carol said. "She's not going to care what her room looks like."

"Fair enough," Daryl agreed. "So—then, what does her mama want for her? What do you wanna see when you come in here in the mornin' to get her up?"

Carol sighed happily after a moment.

"Just her, if we're being honest," Carol said. "The part of that daydream that gets my heart racing is just thinking that she's going to be there. Awake. Waiting on me. I'm going to be her mama…every day."

Daryl's chest tightened. He reminded himself that, in a part of her life that was always there for her, Carol had seen her own baby girl very much unlike that, and the chance to mother her had been quickly ripped away. Daryl nuzzled her in response and rubbed her back.

"You're already her mama. Already taking care of her every day. What do you think her room should look like? What colors do you see when you think about gettin' ready for her to be here with us? In our arms and in our home?"

Carol pulled away and smiled at him.

"White," she said. "A lot of white. Not sterile…not like that. Not like a hospital. But clean. And pastels. All of them, Daryl. Not just pink. All the pretty colors. Spring colors."

"Yeah? Spring? You're thinkin' a spring theme for the nursery?"

"Flowers," Carol said. "Soft animals and soft colors. Spring. A new start. A new life."

"I like that," Daryl said.

"You do?" Carol asked. Immediately, she playfully rolled her eyes. She didn't pull away from Daryl, though, and seemed content to stay there, in Sprout's future room, holding onto Daryl's arms, loosely in his grasp. "You don't care about nursery colors."

"That's where the hell you're wrong," Daryl said. "I like colors as much as the next person. I like pretty things, especially for both my best girls. For you and for Sprout? I like that. I love it, actually. You got it right. A new life. Sprout's our new life—a new damn life for all three of us."