AN: Here we are, another chapter here!

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

111

Daryl felt somewhat sad looking at the paltry belongings that made up everything that Carol had to her name. Andrea had informed him that Carol would gather everything together and text him photographs of her things so that he'd know exactly what was hers and could be sure to take only those items from the trailer, without leaving anything behind, of course. After packing everything that was Carol's, Daryl and Merle would be dealing with the landlord that would be more inclined to try to intimidate Carol in some way than he would the Dixon brothers. Carol was getting out of the trailer, out of whatever lease she may have signed, and she wasn't paying another red cent to that man. He would agree to that, or their lawyer would have a look at the conditions of all his rental properties and the laws that governed renting in the state of Georgia with a very, very critical eye.

After Andrea's description of the trailer, Daryl had done his best to prepare himself for the condition of things. He still hadn't been fully prepared for the disgusting place that Carol had been forced to call home since she'd arrived in Woodson, but he was happy to know she'd never spend another night there. He imagined the shower she took after moving into the clean trailer that Andrea was "renting" to her would be one of the best of her life, as she washed off even the memories of this place. Daryl had been prepared to meet with the landlord and to have to bare his fangs a little and flex his muscles to be sure that the man didn't try to take further advantage of Carol.

He hadn't been prepared to find that Carol only had a few mostly empty garbage bags of belongings—since that was what she was using for luggage—and that clearly included what limited supply of cheap, unhealthy bulk food she'd been able to afford since her arrival in town.

Daryl hadn't needed Merle to actually help him move anything, though he'd appreciated his brother's presence in dealing with Carol's previous landlord.

"You think we oughta unpack or something?" Daryl asked, putting the bags in the living room of the clean trailer where Andrea had once lived. There were some items of furniture in the house, and most of the appliances were still there since Merle and Andrea had splurged when they'd moved into their double-wide to start their married lives together. They'd made purchases that would allow most of their stuff to be "theirs" instead of being leftovers from where they'd put their lives together before.

This trailer wasn't Buckingham Palace, but it was cool and, other than the faint smell of nobody having lived there for a while, it smelled nice. It was clean, and that was a far cry from where Carol had been living.

"You think we oughta—make it homey?" Daryl added.

"We got the master bedroom set that was here at our place, brother," Merle said, walking through the trailer and taking inventory of everything. He'd ignored Daryl's immediate questions. "We should move the one from that extra bedroom into the master. Ain't nothin' wrong with it—was just that, you know, Andrea liked the master one better."

Daryl helped his brother rearrange the furniture. The empty guest room, he figured, wouldn't be a problem for now. If Carol needed things for there—because, he assumed, that might be the baby's room if everything went well—Daryl would see that it was furnished in the manner that she thought best. She had everything that she needed, furniture-wise, for at least the first few days, and she could tell Daryl if anything else was necessary.

After they'd put together the bedroom, Daryl hadn't bothered Merle again with his concerns about the spartan living space. Instead, he'd thanked Merle and said that he intended only to do a few more things before leaving the trailer.

He didn't lie, exactly. He did leave the trailer. And, when he returned, he brought far more with him than he'd brought when moving Carol's things into the space in the first place.

Daryl stocked the fridge and the cabinets with the basics. Everyone needed, he figured, certain things. There was fruit, some vegetables, a few cans of things—including soup, because soup, he figured, was good to keep on hand—and bread and such for sandwiches and toast. Eggs, milk, and coffee rounded off the other things that it seemed like everyone needed.

In the bathroom, he put shampoo, conditioner, the liquid soap that Andrea liked and had taught he and Merle to both enjoy, and one of the fluffy little shower things that were nice to use in place of a washrag. He hadn't known what Carol would like, but he'd chosen what appealed to him and hoped for the best. The fluffy thing was yellow because it was a happy color, and Daryl figured that moving in there and getting started with the future was a happy sort of thing.

From the store, he'd picked up silverware, dish rags, towels, and soap for the kitchen. Aluminum foil and plastic bags, he'd figured were necessities, too. A few decent cooking utensils had made it into the buggy, as well. Laundry detergent and fabric softener went into the laundry room. He made the purchase of a package of cheap cleaning rags, and a few bottles of the multi-purpose, strong cleaner that he thought was the best. Those things went under the sink with trash bags that were lemon scented.

For the bathroom, he'd picked up yellow towels and rags—three sets to give her a chance to change out and wash the ones that she was using—that went nicely with the shower curtain and things that Andrea had left behind. He bought crisp white sheets for the bed, and he'd purchased a quilt in a plastic bag that was sunny and bright with nearly every color accounted for that he could think of—all nicely placed with squares and flowers. It looked like spring on a blanket, and Daryl thought it was suiting for a new life and a bright future to come.

Daryl wasn't the best housekeeper in the world, but he could make a bed. He washed the sheets and, while waiting for them to finish and dry, he gave the trailer a once over inspection to make sure that nothing leaked or was otherwise problematic. They took good care of the place, but that didn't mean that it wasn't subject to the same problems as every other place that was left standing empty for some time.

Andrea's old vacuum worked, though she had never loved it as much as the one that Merle had bought her for Christmas—something that Daryl had figured would piss her off, but actually made her very happy—and Daryl gave the floors a once over. He wiped down the cabinets with one of the rags out of the pack of cheap cleaning rags he'd picked up and some of the multi-purpose super cleaner that he preferred to use. He used a lemon scented trash bag to line the trash can, and he ran Andrea's old damp mop over the floors to pick up any dust the vacuum left behind.

Toilet paper, paper towels, and a few other such basics added to Daryl's purchases, and he changed the air filter in the hallway closet before plugging in a few air fresheners he'd bought, filling the ice trays, and making the bed with the freshly washed sheets and the brand new blanket. He tucked two new pillows into their cases and fluffed them before he put them on the bed.

Daryl was glad that his brother had gone home. He probably would have teased him for the work that he put into making the trailer ready for Carol. And, maybe, Daryl had had no right to do all the things that he'd decided to do. Maybe it was an invasion of Carol's space and privacy. If she felt that way, he was sorry for it, but he'd meant well in doing what he'd done.

What little he knew of Carol, already, told him that she wouldn't want to ask for more than what she considered the barest of necessities. She wouldn't want to bother, burden, or cost him in any way.

Daryl wanted her to have the things she needed—and things she wanted, too. He wanted her to have the little things that made life comfortable, and easy, and happy.

Daryl told himself that his interest in Carol's comfort and well-being were entirely owing to the contract between them to become parents to a special little girl or boy that would signify a real future for the both of them. And, to some extent, it was true. He did have a very big interest in the child that, though it didn't even exist yet, he loved with all his heart. He'd been dreaming of the little thing until, if it were possible, his dreams alone might have brought it into existence. And Andrea's research had surely turned up the information that a happy, healthy, relaxed mother was more likely to conceive easily and to have a healthy and uneventful pregnancy. For all these reasons, Daryl wanted Carol to have the best life she could, and he wanted to give her all that he could.

But there was something more, and Daryl felt it in his gut, even if he wouldn't have dared to voice it to anyone.

Daryl liked Carol.

He liked the way she looked at him. He liked the way she held her eyes, and even narrowed them. He liked the way she looked at him like she might see straight through him or, at the very least, like she might try. He liked the way that she listened when he spoke, and he liked the way that he caught her watching his lips, sometimes, when he was talking—just the same as he caught himself looking at her lips.

He liked the shape of her lips. He liked the curve of her nostrils, even—he paid attention to things like lines and curves. Until he'd met Carol and enjoyed a conversation with her across the table, he'd thought that only extended to cars, but it appeared to extend much further. He liked the way she crinkled her nose, and the way those crinkles ran to the corners of her eyes when she was genuinely amused.

He loved her eyes. He loved the clean, crisp, icy blue of her eyes. They were a happy color, a clean color—like the yellow that he'd chosen for the items he'd purchased—the blue reminded Daryl of clean beginnings and bright futures.

And even just thinking about all that made Daryl's heart beat hard in his chest and made his breathing catch.

This was supposed to be a business transaction, and that was all. It wasn't supposed to be personal beyond what was necessary for them to be co-parents to the same child, sharing custody fifty-fifty. Carol would be expecting Daryl to keep a healthy amount of distance, and she certainly wouldn't be expecting him to fluff her pillows while he thought about how much he liked the shape of her eyes, nostrils, lips…and everything else of hers that he'd seen.

Daryl told himself that he could handle this, though. He had spent his whole life keeping his distance from people. He was practically a professional at it. He was especially good at keeping his distance from women. He'd managed to keep his distance from women his entire life. The only woman he'd ever even come close to having anything to do with was a woman that Merle had, essentially, brought home for him as a birthday present when he'd turned eighteen. Even now, Daryl shuddered to think what his brother had said or done to get that woman to play along.

Still, she'd been nice, and she'd understood when Daryl had told her that it wasn't her, he simply wasn't interested in something like that. He wasn't interested in something that had no future.

And no woman was interested in a future with a man like Daryl. He had nothing to offer them, after all, that every other man alive couldn't offer them probably tenfold and with a great deal more added benefits.

Carol wouldn't be interested in anything like that—not beyond what they'd already agreed to.

Still, there was no reason that they couldn't be friends. After all, if they were co-parenting a child for the span of that child's life, the child would only benefit from an amiable relationship between its parents.

Daryl took out his phone and texted Carol. While he waited, he kept himself busy. From the things she'd packed in the old trailer, he took the food and put it all away with the things that he'd bought. He took her other belongings, in their trash bags so she wouldn't feel that he'd been snooping, and carried them into her new bedroom. He waited on her reply, and he smiled when his phone finally dinged to say that she'd responded.

It seemed that, even though she would probably never want more than that, she wasn't against the amiable relationship, either.

He checked the time, thumbed in his response, and called the best local pizza place to place an order for pick-up that would be ready just about the time he could expect her to be heading home from her shift at the diner.