AN: Here we are, another chapter to this one.

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

111

Carol almost felt like she'd accepted the beer that Daryl had offered her at the shop. She almost felt as if she'd had more than one. She might have even entertained the thought, for at least a moment, that Daryl had convinced the person who made her chocolate shake to mix a little something from a hip-pocket flask, or something of the like, into the drink. The feeling of intoxication, though, that she felt had begun before she'd even reached the burger place with Daryl and agreed that his order sounded good to her—all except for the fact that she wanted a chocolate shake in place of his preferred strawberry—and she'd watched him go inside to pick up their orders since the little place seemed pretty packed.

Since Daryl had closed the truck door for Carol—having insisted on coming around to open it, in the first place, to let her in—and Carol had watched his endearing little half-trot as he circled around the front of the truck in the headlights to let himself into the driver's side of the truck again, Carol had felt the strange sense of intoxication.

The stars seemed somehow brighter than they usually did in the dark blanket of the night sky. Woodson was a small town, and the streetlights, although present, were spaced long distances from each other even near the main center of town. Outside of the center of town, however, they disappeared entirely and the night took over.

The drive to the burger place was a little like a dream to Carol. She almost felt dizzy, but in a delightful way. She felt a little like she was having one of those out-of-body experiences she'd heard about.

And she recognized, somewhere around the middle of their shared late-supper of burgers, fries, and shakes, that what she was really feeling wasn't intoxication at all—it was true contentment and, perhaps, even a touch of giddy happiness.

Carol kept it to herself.

She kept to herself how much she simply enjoyed sitting next to Daryl in the truck, eating food that she would have felt guilty consuming in front of Ed, but which Daryl seemed to practically enjoy seeing her eat, and watching people come and go with their own bags of greasy fare.

While they ate, the conversation was easy. Daryl talked about his work. Carol shared a few stories about regular customers. They both discussed the possibility of watching a movie at Carol's, when they finished, since neither of them had anything too pressing to do.

Even the lulls and silences felt comfortable, and Carol relaxed into them.

The only time she felt herself tense, at all, was when, during one of those lulls, Daryl leaned toward her and she instinctively knew what he wanted. She willed herself to relax, but she knew that he'd seen her tensing. He didn't pull away, but he also didn't advance. Instead, he made her come to him to close the distance for the requested kiss.

Carol didn't know why she'd tensed over the kiss. As soon as their lips met, she relaxed into it. In fact, she was the one that sought more, and Daryl gave her what she wanted, finally pulling away for breath.

He laughed, quietly, as they pulled away, and tasted a swallow of his milkshake. Carol felt her cheeks grow warm.

"The strawberry shake isn't half-bad," she offered.

"Was just thinkin' the same about the chocolate," Daryl said, laughing again. "Also—was thinkin' this might be more proof, you know, about the practicin'."

"Proof?" Carol asked.

Daryl cleared his throat. He swallowed a bit more of his shake and cleared his throat again. He rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. Carol watched the entire show with the understanding that he was trying to steady his nerves.

She found his anxiety endearing, and she felt her cheeks warm again.

"You got stiff," Daryl said. Carol raised her eyebrows at him. It was all she had to do. He could see her change in expression in the light from the parking lot streetlight, and that was all that he needed to understand her question. He cleared his throat again, and Carol bit back a smile. "Stiff…nervous. You…" He illustrated his point, by visibly, and a touch over-dramatically, tensing.

"I did tense up," Carol admitted with a nod.

"Because you didn't want to kiss me?" Daryl asked.

"Oh…no," Carol said quickly. "I wanted to kiss you. Very much." She saw that it was Daryl's turn to make an expression that, by itself, asked a question. "I guess—I just…I don't know…really…"

"Aren't used to it," Daryl said quickly.

"Hmmm?" Carol asked.

"You aren't used to it," Daryl said. "Me neither. But—it goes back to what I was sayin' before, at the shop. What I was thinkin', at least, because…I didn't say it all. Andrea said that it can take months to get a baby."

"I guess she's not really wrong," Carol said. "I mean—sometimes there's never one, but…"

"But it ain't a just add water kinda thing, really. There's things that go into it—whether or not it works, I mean," Daryl said. Carol nodded her agreement, understanding that he was working through what he was thinking and what he wanted to say. "And—Andrea was mostly figuring it's gonna take a while for her and Merle, but they've been together a long time, you know? They're comfortable together. Do this kind of thing all the time. She was talkin' about how you gotta be relaxed and open…or whatever. But if you tense like that when I go to kiss you, then…maybe you're tensing other times."

"I don't remember being tense before," Carol said. She laughed to herself. "At least—not after the first orgasm."

Daryl made a face at her, and she nodded.

"I understand what you're saying," she added. "You're thinking that—maybe I am tense. Maybe I'm tense without even realizing it. Maybe this whole thing is stressful. But, Daryl—I do want to do this. I mean that. I don't want to back out of things. I do want a baby, and I want to have that baby with you."

"I know," Daryl said. "I wanna do this, too. I'm not changin' my mind. I'm just sayin' that what if the stress—the whatever—is like makin' it harder? That's all I'm sayin'. Like the practicin' thing. It ought to make it less stressful, right? And maybe that's what the hell you need to just sort of…you know…have everything open up and let it happen."

Carol considered his words. She sipped on her milkshake.

"You know, I don't know if that's how it works at all, Daryl," Carol said. He half-frowned. "But," Carol added quickly, noticing that is expression perked up a little at her semi-retraction of doubt, "I also don't know that that's not how it works."

"I'm not sayin' it works that way or it don't," Daryl said. "I'm sayin' that it makes sense if it does. You're gonna laugh if I'm honest with you…"

Carol laughed a little at the simple statement.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I really am. It's like—you suggest I'll laugh and I do."

Daryl laughed quietly in response.

"Hell—I ain't pissed," he said, shrugging his shoulders. He finished his cigarette, but immediately lit another. Carol had noticed that he only really did that when he was really thinking about something or was otherwise anxious.

"I want to know whatever you want to tell me, though," she offered. "You can tell me whatever truth you've got."

"I'm not sure if you're an asshole…or not," Daryl said, side-eyeing her.

"Is that your truth?" She asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

He laughed.

"It's one of 'em," he said. "But I'm leanin' a lot more toward asshole."

"I'm sorry," Carol said.

"I'm not," Daryl said. "On the whole, I prefer assholes—at least, the harmless kind."

"I'm pretty harmless," Carol offered.

"I bet you got your limits," Daryl mused.

"Is that your truth?" She asked, teasing him further.

"I take it back—you're an absolute asshole," Daryl said with a laugh. Carol dissolved into laughter right along with him. That feeling of something like intoxication returned. She felt truly contented. She hated that a late-supper—because she wouldn't have dared to call it a date, even to herself—of burgers and shakes ever had to end.

"I'm sorry, I'll be serious," Carol offered.

"I was gonna say that I believe in like—you know—like Zen and all that kind of shit. Like the whole gettin' it so that your mind and your body are like connected. Bein' aware of yourself. Prob'ly sounds crazy. My brother laughs that shit off."

Carol smiled at him.

"I like it," she offered.

"You do?" Daryl asked. Carol nodded. "I was just thinkin' that if you're comfortable—if we're both comfortable—then it's bound to make things sort of work better. Go together better. And, hell, if we're wrong and that ain't how the hell it works at all, it really ain't like it's done neither of us a world of damage or anything. Unless, of course, you don't want to do it."

Carol smiled at him.

She felt an ache in her chest that made her practically feel like there was some kind of tether there that tugged her toward him. That, too, she would absolutely keep to herself. It was a little frightening and, beyond that, she'd rather have whatever they had—whatever ended up working out for them—than nothing at all.

She'd known Daryl for relatively very little time, but she found that she couldn't imagine living a life in which he wasn't, at least somehow, part of her existence.

"I think you're right," Carol said. "And—I'm in…for all of it."

He laughed to himself. He finished the cigarette, rolled up the window, and thoughtfully took a long drink of his strawberry shake. His straw made the harsh sound of reaching the bottom of the drink, and he stirred it around to make sure he got the whole of the Styrofoam cup's contents.

"Good," he said. "So—what now?"

Carol smiled at him.

"Let me have another taste of that shake," she offered, "before it's entirely gone."

Daryl offered the cup out to her, but Carol leaned toward him. It took him a second, and she saw a bit of tension register on his features as he realized what she was asking. That was fine. Just as much as she needed to become comfortable with things for his idea to work, he had to become comfortable with new things, too.

Daryl leaned toward her and met her for a kiss. As soon as their lips met, the tension felt like it melted away, again, from Carol's body. Daryl's lips had been somewhat tense when they'd first met hers, but they softened as he kissed her. She kept her eyes closed, but she imagined his were closed, too. She imagined he had relaxed into the kiss as much as she had. They both dared to allow it to become a little playful. They both dared to explore a little.

When she pulled away from him, Daryl smiled at her and cleared his throat, again, nervously, as he had before.

"We oughta stop before the deputy over there notices the steamed-up windows and runs us outta here for public affection or whatever the hell they call it," Daryl said.

Carol laughed quietly.

"I have a better idea," she said. "If you want, I mean—we could go somewhere where…nobody's going to bother us."

Even in the dim light that streamed through the slightly-fogged truck windows from the outside light, Carol thought she saw Daryl's cheeks color. Still, he cleared his throat again, nodded, and cranked the truck.

It was, Carol figured, answer enough to her inquiry about if he wanted the same thing that she did.

She smiled at him, when he glanced at her to see if she might change her mind, and he smiled back at her, steering the truck out of the parking lot while she gathered up the trash and remnants of their meal and stuffed it into the bags from which they'd extracted it earlier.

The feeling of content, and maybe a touch giddy, intoxication returned, and Carol enjoyed it.