AN: Here we are, another piece to this one.
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!
111
"You're sure you like this one?" Daryl asked.
"I bought it for you," Carol said from the bedroom. He heard a hint of tinkling laughter in her voice and his heart soared. She was in such good spirits that it was infectious. He'd very nearly felt like dancing from one place to another since he'd gotten out of bed, and that was all owing to the energy that was practically radiating out from Carol.
And Daryl had only gotten out of bed after his joyous wife had woken him up with a smile and a desire to help him feel as happy as she felt. He could, with all sincerity, say that her attempts hadn't been in vain.
"This is the brightest shirt in the whole world, Carol," Daryl said, still examining himself in the mirror.
"Do you hate it?" Carol asked. She came into the bathroom, and Daryl couldn't help but smile at her. "If you hate it, you don't have to wear it. You can wear…whatever, really. I just thought you might like it. It felt…happy."
Carol beamed from the happiness she clearly felt. She emanated so much of it, in fact, that Daryl could hardly breathe just looking at her. This was what he wanted—for her and for both of them…for all of them.
Their house was coming along, thanks to the strings that Daryl could pull, and it would be ready within a month—which was good, because at twenty-eight weeks pregnant, Daryl knew that they didn't have that much longer to wait on Sprout, and he wanted them to bring her home to the place that she would call home.
Soon, they would start picking out paint and furniture for the nursery. They would start making the big purchases. But, today, they would have their baby shower, and they would get some of the smaller items, perhaps, that they could tuck away until it was time to start putting together Sprout's room to await her arrival.
Michonne and Alice had planned the baby showers early, perhaps, according to the traditional "rules" that Daryl had heard people followed for all things related to babies, but it didn't matter. They would have their shower today, and in two weeks, Peanut would have her little shower to celebrate her upcoming arrival.
To make the occasion extra special, Daryl had insisted that Carol and Andrea go shopping for a special outfit for Carol. He wanted her to buy whatever said "Sprout is coming" to her, and he wanted it to be something that made her happy. Those had been his specifications. He wanted her to buy something that made her feel beautiful and happy.
The dress that Carol had chosen looked almost as though it were made from a patchwork quilt. It was light and flowy, and nearly every color that Daryl could think of was somehow represented in the dress. She'd been so thrilled with it that she'd modeled it for him when she'd gotten home from making her purchase, and he'd put a few pictures of it in with the other pictures he'd been collecting to document nearly every moment of Sprout's existence. The dress, she'd insisted, could be worn after Sprout was born, as well, as though she needed some justification for doing exactly what he'd asked of her.
What he hadn't expected was that she would choose the bright blue button-down shirt for him, so that he could also have something new and fancy to wear to Sprout's party.
"You are fuckin' beautiful," he offered.
Her cheeks blushed pink, and she stepped beside him to examine herself in the mirror and apply another coat of the stuff she brushed onto her eyelashes. She smeared her lips, too, with another coat of the lip gloss that he admittedly kept kissing off—partly because he simply liked kissing her, and partly because he actually enjoyed the taste of it.
Carol smiled at him in the mirror and cut her eyes at him.
"I love you, too," she said, "but you can't keep saying that every time I walk in the room."
"Yeah? Why not? Where the hell you seen that written down?" Daryl asked. "I didn't never see a single damn rule written nowhere that said I can't say you're beautiful just because I'm thinkin' it."
"It's going to be awkward if you keep bringing it up at the baby shower," Carol said.
"So? What the hell do I care? Who's gonna say anything? They can tell whoever they want that they're beautiful. I won't tell 'em they have to stop." Daryl moved behind Carol and pressed his body against hers. She closed her eyes, and he watched her expression in the mirror. For only a brief second, he let his mind trail where it wanted, and he considered that he might ask her if—when the shower was done and they had no pressing engagement—she might consider letting him make love to her like this, so that he could see her expressions from a whole different perspective. For now, though, he pushed such thoughts out of his mind and slipped his hands around to cup her belly and feel for Sprout's movements. "We all know that, no matter who they're sayin' it too," he said, leaning to kiss the crook of Carol's neck and smiling when he felt her shiver, "that they're going to be thinking it about you, because you're that damned beautiful." He kissed her again—the crook of her neck and the back of it, and she shivered again.
"If you keep that up…" she said.
"What you gonna do about it?" Daryl asked. He pressed his lips gently against her skin again.
She laughed in her throat and then cleared her throat.
"We cannot be late to the baby shower," Carol said.
"We're the guests of honor," Daryl said. "Whole thing don't start 'til we get there. We can't be late, because there's no shower until we're there."
"Daryl…" Carol said.
Daryl laughed and pulled off of her, not that she was struggling with him in any way. He tugged at his shirt, pulling loose any wrinkles in it that he could, and quickly re-tucked it into his pants.
"I'm not gonna make you miss Sprout's shower," Daryl assured her. "But—I sure wouldn't mind taking a raincheck if you got one of them on offer."
Carol turned around quickly to face him. Her belly brushed against him, and Daryl's breath caught. Carol fixed the collar of his shirt and smoothed the material beneath her fingertips.
"I'd love to offer you a raincheck," she assured him, practically purring. "You just—think about what you might like to do with it, and you can let me know later." She winked an eye at him, and he felt his whole body run warm.
"I don't hardly have to think," he said.
"I can't wait to hear about it," Carol said. "Do you really hate the shirt?"
Daryl glanced over her shoulder and into the mirror again.
"I don't hate it," he said. "It's bright, though. I believe this is the definition of robin's egg or whatever."
She laughed.
"It matches my dress," she said, gesturing to a patch of blue among the sea of other colors. "I thought it was pretty. And—I thought it would look good on you. I thought it might bring out your eyes. And I was right about that."
He smiled at her. He leaned and brushed her lips with his, capturing a bit more of the gloss she'd only just refreshed. He licked it off his lips.
"You like my eyes?" He asked.
She put a cool hand on either side of his face.
"Mmm," she hummed. "I love your eyes. They're my favorite eyes. I hope that Sprout gets them."
"You don't," Daryl said. "I don't. I hope to hell she gets your eyes."
"We'll just have to wait and see, I guess," Carol offered. "So? What about the shirt? What's the final decision? That yellow one you have is nice, too, if you're more comfortable with it. Or even that pretty green one."
"Let me just—look at this one again," Daryl said.
Carol moved to stand beside him, but she kept her arms around his waist. He didn't complain. He liked her holding onto him like that. He liked her being so near to him. He liked that she was feeling warm and affectionate with him, and that he could barely recall the last time she'd treated him like he was anything less than dipped in honey and rolled in sugar.
He kept an arm dropped over her, and he patted her back while he stood looking at the reflection of the both of them in the mirror. She smiled at him in the mirror.
"Damn," he said.
"What?" She asked, looking up at him.
"That's a good lookin' couple there," he said.
Carol laughed and looked back at their reflection.
"They might be my favorite couple," Carol offered.
"Might? Who else you rootin' for this hard?" Daryl teased.
Carol didn't respond, but she didn't need to. She simply squeezed him, humming out her satisfaction with the embrace, and Daryl responded in kind.
"Merle's gonna give me shit about how bright this shirt is," Daryl said. "But—I like it. There's just one thing I need to do."
"What's that?" Carol asked.
"Grab a pair of shades, so when his ass gets started, I can throw 'em in his direction and shut him the hell up."
Carol offered Daryl a kiss, and he took it. When he released her, she left the bathroom and he followed her. She stopped in the bedroom and spritzed on her perfume. He took a quick note from her and dabbed on some cologne—her favorite.
"You know," Carol said, moving through the house with Daryl just behind her, "you don't have to go. Neither you or Merle. You could—I don't know—go get a beer or something. When Clyde drops Agnes off, you could go and do something with him."
"You tryin' to get rid of me?" Daryl asked.
"No," Carol said. "I'm just saying—it's not tradition that men come to baby showers. Usually, it's just women. Men do…whatever it is that men do."
Daryl reached out and caught Carol's shoulder, turning her around and distracting her from the ten million little chores that she could find to keep herself busy before they finally walked out the door.
"Just tell me this," Daryl said. "Be honest. Straightforward. I don't want to have to try to figure out what's truth and what's you just sayin' something. You want me to go or you don't?"
"I want you to do what makes you happy," Carol said.
"That ain't what the hell I asked," Daryl said. "You don't want me there?"
"Of course, I'd want you there," Carol said. "But—I understand that this is something that you might not find very exciting."
"It's Sprout's party," Daryl said. "What the hell am I not gonna find exciting?"
"It's just baby stuff, Daryl," Carol said.
"My baby!" Daryl said. "Mine. And yours…but…you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," Carol confirmed. He could tell that she wasn't offended or bothered in the least. If anything, she looked pleased.
Daryl smiled and swallowed against an unexpected lump in his throat.
"My baby," he repeated. "My lil' girl. And it's her first party. Of course, I wanna be there, Carol. I picked out them invitations. I picked out the cake. I wanna see it. Eat the cake. See what she's got. Figure out what else she needs in order to have everything just like she's gonna need it when she gets here. But—if you don't want me to come…"
Carol stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around him again. He smiled at her.
"I felt her," he said. "She just nudged me."
Carol laughed quietly.
"She wants to be involved," Carol said.
"She oughta be," Daryl said. "It's her party, too."
"I want you to be there," Carol said. "And—I want you to cut the cake."
"I guess I can handle that," Daryl said.
"And—I want a ton of pictures. And I want some of you…and me…and both of us together."
"That ain't no problem," Daryl said. "We already give Alice the job of takin' a million pictures today. She can handle some special instructions. She's got that big doctor brain and everything, so it ought not to put too much stress on her."
"If you're bored, though, I don't want you to feel like you can't leave," Carol said.
"I'm not leavin' until you do," Daryl assured her. "And when we leave? You just keep in mind, Carol, that you promised me a raincheck, and I'm holding you to it."
Carol laughed quietly.
"And I'm looking forward to it," she promised him with a wink.
