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

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please let me know!

111

Daryl stopped by his house for a toothbrush and sweatpants. He stopped for a change of clothes for the following day.

Something in his stomach rolled and tumbled as he stuffed his few belongings into a plastic bag from the grocery store and locked the door behind him when he left. They weren't pretending. He wasn't going to Carol's house to pretend that this was just something casual—a movie, or something, and he'd be back home to sleep.

He was going to spend the evening and, later, the night with her. She wasn't ovulating. This wasn't the next step in making the baby that they'd both promised to work toward together.

Daryl was just going to spend the night at Carol's house so that they could learn to be comfortable together.

Daryl had dropped Carol off at her house before he'd gone for his few things. He went straight to her place, and he sat and smoked a cigarette on her porch step before going in.

"Are you out here regretting your choices?" Carol asked, leaning out the door with the glass door propped against her body.

Daryl laughed to himself. He felt nervous in a way that was nearly overwhelming—ridiculous, really, since Carol didn't truly make him all that nervous—not in the same way that even thinking about women usually did. He made himself nervous, perhaps, if he were being honest. Still, that's what he was doing here, right? Chasing away the nervousness for both of them because, just maybe, babies made better where there weren't so many nerves dancing around wildly.

"Givin' you time to do just that," Daryl said. "Time to tell me to get my shit and get outta here."

"You're going to be out here a while, then," Carol offered lightly. "I lit that candle you put in the living room. It smells like cupcakes."

Daryl smiled.

"Gotta admit—the candles were kinda Andrea's idea. Overall, I mean. Not for your place, really, but she's the one got me started on 'em. They do smell good, and they'll get the whole place smellin' pretty decent—no matter what the hell else you got goin' on. I can be pretty bad about burnin' shit like popcorn, especially."

"They do smell good," Carol agreed. "And you were very smart to think of them."

Daryl finished his cigarette and got up, snatching up his plastic bag and following Carol inside.

"That's your luggage?" She asked.

"You gonna bust my balls about it like I ain't seen half your shit was in them big black bags?" Daryl challenged, smiling just enough to let her know he was teasing, so that she didn't tense up. She smiled back.

"I was just going to say that I think I've still got a few of those black ones hanging around—if you wanted one."

Daryl smiled at her and raised his eyebrows. He dropped his bag on the counter and stepped toward her. She tensed—visibly—and he reminded himself of what he knew about her, and what he knew about where she'd come from and the marriage she'd left. He didn't take her tensing personally…that's why they were here. She clearly forced herself to relax and Daryl squeezed her shoulder affectionately before moving his hand up to the back of her neck. As he squeezed it, he leaned in for a kiss. She met him without hesitation and gave him a good kiss.

Every part of his body felt like he'd just gotten out of a hot shower. He leaned into the kiss, and she didn't push him off.

"You like me enough to give me that fancy luggage?" Daryl teased.

Carol's cheeks colored.

"It's the least I can do," she said. "For—the man who set all this up for me. To keep me from probably having to live in my car. And—for the man who's going to be my baby's father."

Daryl felt a shiver run all the way down his spine.

Of course, this wasn't news. It was why they were here. It was how they got here. It was the reason that their lives would be forever intertwined in some way—and, yet, it still made a shiver run through his whole body to hear her say it in that tone of voice.

"Did I say something wrong?" Carol asked, obviously having sensed the shiver.

Daryl laughed quietly.

"I'd say you said somethin' real damn right," Daryl said. He cleared his throat. "So—now that you got me here…what do you wanna do with me?"

Carol held his eyes. Her eyes were beautiful. He'd thought that before, but sometimes it struck him a bit more than it did other times.

"I could come up with a few things," she said.

Her voice shook slightly. Daryl felt the muscles in his shoulders tense.

He wondered if it was all too fast for her. He wasn't even sure, really, if it was too fast for him. He wanted to be here, and she did, too, but there was such a thing as wanting something and not wanting it to come barreling toward your face at seventy-five miles an hour. He wondered, too, how much of her felt at least a little obligated to want whatever he wanted—to give him whatever she thought he wanted.

"I got some ideas, too," he offered.

"Yeah?" Carol asked, raising her eyebrows. The left corner of her mouth twitched upward. Daryl found himself smiling at the expression.

"Yeah," he said. "But—I gotta piss, first, so…how about…you go in the den there, and…you sit down?"

"Anywhere?" Carol asked.

"Floor," Daryl said.

She laughed.

"You want me to sit on the floor?" She asked.

"If you don't want to," Daryl said, letting the statement hang.

"Should I—do anything?" Carol asked.

"Just—relax," Daryl said.

"OK," she said. "I'm trusting you," she added.

"That's what I'm countin' on," Daryl said.

He left her and slipped into the bathroom. He relieved himself and splashed his face with cool water when he washed his hands. He dried off and looked at himself in the mirror.

This was just business. That was what Daryl had told himself. It was what he'd told Carol. She'd recited it right back to him like some kind of litany.

Merle hadn't believed it was just business—not after that first night—and Daryl had seen the curve of Andrea's eyebrow and the expression she'd given Merle the few times it had been mentioned when they were together. Andrea didn't believe it was just business, either.

It was only now, standing in front of the mirror, that Daryl started to wonder if he believed himself at all. There was something changing about the way he felt about Carol. There was something changing about the way that he felt about all of this.

And it was scary, and it made his stomach churn, and it was exciting and invigorating—all at the same time.

And his knees practically shook to think about what it might all mean.

But he wasn't going to pressure Carol into anything. She'd agreed that she wanted him here to help her be more relaxed—more Zen, even—but he wasn't going to press for more than that. He wasn't going to press for anything that she didn't want, and he was determined to do his damnedest to figure out what she wanted instead of what she felt like she owed him.

"She don't owe you a single damned thing except what the hell y'all agreed on together. That exchange is all the hell that's guaranteed. Business."

He muttered it to himself, like something of a grounding version of a pep talk. Then, he left the bathroom.

He'd gathered up some tension as he'd been in the bathroom thinking or, perhaps, overthinking. As he walked back into the main part of the trailer, though, he felt that tension dissipating. Carol had moved the lit candle to the coffee table. She had turned off everything but two lamps that put out relatively little light. She was sitting on the floor, as he'd instructed, and her eyes were closed.

Daryl couldn't explain it, but he felt like he could close his eyes, right then and there, and simply go to sleep in the stillness of her presence.

He walked over to where she was and she turned quickly—her head snapping in his direction. She put on a pleasant face. She gave him a smile, but he saw something there. He sensed it.

"He used to sneak up on you?" Daryl asked.

"Is it that obvious?" Carol asked.

"Had a hunch," Daryl said.

"Whether he snuck up on me or not…" Carol said.

"Yeah," Daryl said, speaking when her voice broke off. "I get that, too. Maybe that's kinda makin' you uneasy, too. You look at me, you're seein' him."

Daryl walked the rest of the way into the room and eased down on the floor next to Carol. She didn't move away from him. Even though he sat too close to her, and even though their knees touched, she didn't move to put distance between them.

"I don't see him when I look at you," Carol said, shaking her head.

"What do you see?" Daryl asked.

She smiled. She half-shrugged a shoulder.

"You," she said. "Just—you."

"But you see him, in your mind," Daryl said, tapping his finger against the side of his head. "You see him…when I move too fast. You hear him, when I step and the floorboard creaks. He ain't gone. Not from in there."

Carol considered him.

"You're right," she agreed.

"They don't never leave," Daryl said. "Not all the way. Not entirely. But—they get quieter. They stay gone more. Takes more to drag 'em back up from where the hell you buried them."

"I'm looking forward to that," Carol said. She breathed out, purposefully.

Daryl hummed at her. He pulled his shirt off. She watched him, with question, as he took it and carefully rolled it into what he wanted it to be.

"Come here," he said.

"What are you doing?" Carol asked.

"Askin' you to trust me," Daryl said. "That's all. You trust me?"

She smiled and leaned toward him. He wrapped the t-shirt around her face, knotting it behind her head. She touched it, her hands going over the cloth that covered her eyes.

"I can still see a little," she admitted.

"It's OK," Daryl said. "Don't matter. Move it if you want. I'm just movin' in front of you. Goin' nowhere else."

Carol smiled.

"You're going to tell me what you're doing?" She asked.

"Didn't mean for this to be no trick," Daryl said. "Just—mean for you to trust me. That's all. Part of trustin' me is…me tellin' you the truth, and you seein' that it's true."

Carol laughed. Her shoulders slumped forward in genuine relaxation.

"I like that," she said.

Daryl moved in front of her. He crossed his legs, just like she had, and he sat knee-to-knee with her.

"Takin' your hands," he said. She let him have her hands without hesitation. He smiled at the gesture. He worked her hands in his. He felt warmed when she hummed in satisfaction to say that having her hands massaged must feel good to her. Daryl's body reacted. He liked the sounds she made when she felt good—he liked knowing he made her feel that way. "Movin' up your arms," he said.

Carol didn't tense at all. In fact, he could have sworn she relaxed more. He felt relaxed, too, as he rubbed her arms.

"I think this is like Zen," Daryl said. "Your mind is connectin' with just what you feel right now. It's connectin' with how you feel. You're really feeling it."

"I'm really feeling a lot," Carol offered.

Daryl felt his face grow warm. His body reacted to her words. He felt, perhaps, more than she intended him to feel. He shifted, a little, to make himself more comfortable.

"You're feelin' my energy, and I'm feelin' yours," Daryl said.

"Does the blindfold help with that?" Carol asked. "Taking away one sense? I've got my eyes closed—even without it."

"I guess it does," Daryl said. "Mostly—I did it so you'd stop tensing as much. Figured—you were naturally trying to anticipate what was coming, so it was makin' you react to everything. This way, you know what's coming, because that's what I'm tellin' you…so you don't gotta tense, and your eyes won't lie to you and tell you that there might be somethin' there to see."

"You're very smart," Carol offered.

"I read," Daryl said. "But—more'n that…I just think about things, you know? Like…I haven't read hardly anything about this. It just makes sense to me. Seems…natural. Animal instinct, and that's all the hell we are, anyway."

"Like I said," Carol said, "you're very smart."

"I'm gonna touch your neck, now. Your face. Your jaw. Relax it—you hold a lot of tension there."

She took another of the deep breaths. They were purposeful. As Daryl massaged her jaw and ran his fingers over her throat for his own sensory pleasure of touching the soft skin there, she relaxed. She moaned, again, in pleasure, and Daryl had to bite his lip to keep from making his own sounds—sounds that might give away that he was experiencing things he was glad that she couldn't see right now. He didn't want her to think he had expectations for her, because he didn't, but that didn't mean that his body fully understood what he expected of it when he thought it should be on its best behavior.

"Feels good," Carol offered, as though Daryl's body needed anymore encouragement. He cleared his throat.

"I'ma kiss you now, OK?"

She smiled and nodded.

"OK," she said.

"OK," Daryl said, running his fingertip over her lips. She kissed his fingertip and she might as well have hit him with raw electricity. He took a moment to still himself. He leaned and pressed his lips to hers. He meant for the kiss to be soft and easy. He didn't mean for his hunger to come through.

It was her hunger that came through. It was her that took his breath away. Her hands came to his chest. They crawled upward to his shoulders. She lifted her body to her knees and shifted toward him. He wrapped his arms around her practically instinctively. He felt the softness of his own t-shirt as her face nuzzled his, the kiss broken a second, and then he helped her find his lips again when she searched for them.

He welcomed her onto his lap as she came, wrapping herself around him, and he held her tightly, savoring the weight of her.

"You don't got to…" He said.

She laughed into his mouth before she broke the kiss. She pressed her face against the side of his head. She laughed softly next to his ear. He shivered at her breath.

"No," she said. "No—but I want to."

"Bedroom?" He asked. "Seems romantic here, but—carpet burn's a bitch, really."

Carol laughed.

"Bed," she agreed.

"I like to think I'm a hell of a man," Daryl said. "And—if I was doin' everything just the damn way I wanted, I'd pick you up. Carry you right from here in there. Truth is, though…I ain't man enough to do that—especially not from this position."

She laughed again. She came back for another kiss. It was hard, and deep, and it left no room for doubt. Then, she pulled off of him and pulled the t-shirt from over her eyes. She pushed up from her new position on her knees and offered him her hand.

"You're more man than any man I've ever known," she offered.

"I don't know about all that," Daryl said, getting to his feet, his face suddenly every bit as hot as the rest of his body.

"I do," Carol said. She wiggled her fingertips at him. He took her hand, and she tugged at his fingers. "Blow the candle out. Come show me what else you'd do, if you were doing everything just the damn way you wanted."