Author's note: I'm not a huge fan of writing smutty scenes, but I did put my best foot forward to write something that was at least steamy, sweet, and reminiscent of those hazy early days of being fully aware you're in love. So here they are in their honeymoon phase.
I don't own these characters of TWD
Vibes for this chapter were greatly inspired by the song "Lover" by Taylor swift.
Lover
As dawn crested, Daryl lay there watching Carol dream. Her eyes darted quickly back and forth under her eyelids, blissfully dreaming of something as soft breaths puffed gently between kiss-swollen lips. He was utterly besotted with her. His wife. He had thought about it ever since they watched that classic Judy Garland movie. He felt a fluttering in his chest at the memory of those quiet moments between them, eyes locked as he realized he was finally ready. It felt right to after all this time, not because they needed to define it as a marriage but because saying it the night before and carrying her over the threshold had been a thrill for both of them.
His train of thought on the matter was interrupted as she shifted on the pillow, exhaling a breathy moan and turning her head away from him. His hand crept slowly across the sheet covering her, sliding up and over her waist, memorizing the crests and valleys of her body as it went as it traveled. Last night hadn't been filled with firsts. For days, they'd each taken turns memorizing the most intimate parts of one another. Carol was learning the sensual touches that could drive him crazy and he was learning that she loved having a little of the control. Sometimes, their touches turned passionate, frenzied, and rough. More often, though, their lovemaking was slow, reverent, and worshipful. Within the confines of these newly sacred days and hours, their bond had grown deeper and more trustful in ways he couldn't imagine with anyone else. She exhaled, another long, breathy sigh, evocative. It sent feelings of warmth throughout his body as he drew her into his chest. She adjusted, her back flush against him as she laid her arm atop his, their hands connecting, fingers intertwining. "Mmm, cozy," she moaned again.
He kissed appreciatively at the freckles on her shoulder. He rested his chin against her, peering down at her fluttering lashes, "Mornin'."
"S'early." He pulled his hand from her waist and leaned back on his elbow, head resting on his hand as he watched her shift to her back. Her eyes squinted in the dim light as she looked up at him, "What?" she asked, her voice laden with sleep.
He smiled warmly, his gaze traveling over her features, memorizing the freckles and the lines of her face and mesmerized by flecks of silver in her light blue eyes. He raised his hand to push a stray strand of hair away from her face, "Nothin', just staring at my wife." A prideful grin on his face.
She laughed and brought her hands up to cover her face, "Oh god."
He pushed her hands down, "Stop, ya look perfect. Like lookin' at ya like this- sexy."
She opened her eyes, amazed at his sincerity, "Are you for real?" the bed vibrated with her giggle.
He shrugged, "S' the truth."
She brought her hand up, traced along his cheek with her finger, and brushed some unruly hair strands behind his ear. "Need a haircut," she yawned.
"Maybe later," he grabbed her hand, his fingers all too happy to sooth patterns across her palm seductively.
"I could use one too," she stated, bringing her free hand up and running it through her short locks.
He harrumphed, "Kinda like it growin' out."
"Yeah?" she questioned.
He nodded, running his hand back through her hair a second time, and leaned in, giving her a gentle kiss that she was eager to return. "Like you any which way. Like you killin' walkers, bein' a badass. Like you smiling. Like you naked..." he punctuated each phrase with a kiss, and she shook with more giggles. "Like you laughin'," he smiled, his right hand resting on her hip. "Like that I make you laugh."
"I like that too," her eyes soft and full of love for him, "but when it comes to my hair, I think I like it short," she wrinkled her nose and shrugged. "Feel more like myself that way."
"Like it short, too," he nodded, grabbing her left hand and weaving their fingers together, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. "Whatever you want- I like." Her lip quivered, her eyes brimming with tears at the affirming words and his acceptance. "Hey-" he began.
"I'm okay," she kissed him quickly to quiet his rising concern.
"You sure?" he knit his eyebrows in worry and propped himself up higher, pulling away as if he'd somehow hurt her, "Tryin' to be damn romantic, didn't want ya to cry."
She pulled him back down to her, "Don't- They're just happy tears."
"Ya sure?" he asked a deep concern filling his eyes.
She nodded, smiling, happy tears still trailing out of the corners of her eyes. "So happy. You make me feel like you want all of me no matter what or who I am."
"I've liked every damn version of ya, loved every damn one of ya too, but this one," their eyes locked in a dreamy haze as his fingers swept in a lazy pattern down her forearm. "This one..." he brought his hand back up to clutch her chin between his thumb and forefinger, a look of pure adoration on his face, "... think she's my favorite."
Eyes glistening with tears, she cleared her throat, shifting beneath him, adjusting her head on the pillow. "Weren't we supposed to go somewhere today?" She asked, a small smile blooming as she stared up at him in contentment.
"Hmm..." he hummed, "Was that my idea?" he asked, playing coy. Carol nodded. "I don't know... stayin' here seems like a better plan," he bit his lip, his eyes darkening with desire.
"Staying here?" she swallowed; he could feel her heart speeding up in anticipation as he shifted his hips forward, her legs inviting him in as he settled himself between her thighs.
"That okay with ya?" he asked, his chest heaving, arms braced on both sides of her head, his intentions clear. She brought her arms up and around his shoulders.
"I think," she punctuated her words with a quick kiss before laying her head back on the pillow, smiling flirtatiously, "I still want that date." Her eyes were bright and fully awake, her fingers dancing across his shoulder blades in tender exploration.
"I'll give you a date," he growled hungrily, leaning in and giving her a languid kiss.
And so, it was almost afternoon when they finally ventured out of their little newlywed cocoon. Carol extricated herself from the bedroom on the grounds that they were both hungry for food. Thus, she threw on a few layers of clothing and padded down to the kitchen. Daryl wasn't far behind her, a blush of pleasure on his cheeks as he rounded the corner from the hallway and leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, happy to watch her flit around the place.
"You gonna stand back there and gawk?" she teased over her shoulder. Daryl laughed softly. She glanced over her shoulder, spying his look of adoration, and smiled before returning to her task. "I've got peanut butter and jelly; I know it's not ideal, but on short notice- Oh!" Carol jumped, feeling his arms circle around her waist as she faced the counter, her hand stilling in the middle of spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and her knife clattered to the counter as she raised her hand to touch the side of his face affectionately. He kissed the juncture between her neck and shoulder, and she shivered in pleasure at his touch. "We are never leaving this house, are we?" she giggled, picking the knife back up, dipping it into the jar of peanut butter, pulling out a glob, and spreading it across a second slice of bread.
"Don't see why we gotta," he laughed, peppering her neck with more kisses. "Got everythin' we need, right?"
She momentarily stopped spreading the peanut butter, turning in his arms, "What happened to planning for the future? Spring? Summer?"
"Can plan tomorrow, s'nice- just throwin' all the other stuff out the window and spendin' time like this," he reasoned with her. "When's the last time we got to stop?"
"About a week ago before you got sick," she gave him a chaste kiss on the lips and patted his cheek, turning back to her sandwich-making station. "I'm starving. You wanna help me?" He sighed, nodded, and released her from his arms, taking his rightful place at her side, his hand reaching for the jar of homemade jam. She handed him another knife and slid two naked slices of bread in his direction. "There."
He glanced at the label on the jar, and his nose wrinkled, "Strawberry?"
"Mhmm, there's like five more jars in there," she pointed to the pantry.
"Grape's in the fridge- should use that up first," he sat the jar down and turned toward the appliance, her hand settling on his arm to give him pause. "What?" he looked at her in confusion.
"Oh, well-" she shook her head, suddenly ashamed and not wanting to cause a fuss, "It's fine, grab the grape."
"You want strawberry," he stated.
"Whatever you want is fine," she shrugged, keeping her eyes on the knife in her hands. Daryl drew close and placed a hand on her forearm. Her shoulders relaxed at the look of understanding in his eyes as they met.
"Nah, you want strawberry? We're havin' strawberry," the jar clunked softly onto the counter, and he popped the top off, butter knife still gripped in his hand.
"Daryl, it's really fine- you're right, we shouldn't be wasting-" Without warning, he'd reached for her and dragged her into a kiss. "What was that?" she gasped in surprise, blinking rapidly.
"Stop ya from overthinkin'," he chuckled, turning back to spread the strawberry jam across the edges of the bread in front of him.
"I-" there, in place of her hesitance, was a flustered smile. Once Daryl was done, he grabbed the plates from the cupboard and gently combined both sides of the sandwiches, placing one on each dish.
He handed her a plate and motioned to the table, "Go on. Grab ya a drink," he walked away into the pantry. "We got cranberry juice," he called from inside the walk-in space.
She blushed, "Oh, yeah! That would probably be good after-" she felt her ears grow warm as she bit into her sandwich.
"Hey," he held the jar up proudly in the doorway for her to see." S'got whole cranberries in it- kinda weird."
She swallowed her first bite, "Think that's just the canning method. How many jars do we have of that?"
He took several strides to the cupboard and poured them each a glass. "Um... you'll have to check that ledger you made. Think there's some in the basement, too."
"You ever think about the people who lived here before?" she asked around another bite of food as he turned, placed two cups of juice on the table, and slid into the chair across from her.
He shrugged, picking up his sandwich and taking a large bite, "Know, must've been a family," he looked over at the doorway leading to the living room. His eyes landed on the markings and text written and carved up and down the frame.
She paused, picking at a piece of crust, "Couple of kids' names up there." She took a long sip of the juice then, letting silence and the sounds of eating hang between them.
"That been botherin' you?" he raised his eyebrows in question, setting the sandwich on the plate in front of him.
She shook her head quickly, her focus squarely on her fingers picking apart the sandwich, "'Course not. They're just names. Signs of the past." she pondered the piece of bread between her fingers for a moment and then popped it in her mouth, chewing quietly, "We didn't even know them."
"Whoever they are, they ain't comin' back anytime soon," he assured.
"When you first found this place, you cleared it out were they-"
"Nah," he shook his head, picked up the sandwich in his hands again, and took another bite, "Not in the house, at least. Place was clean 'cept for that walker we found when we got here." He chased his bite down with the cranberry juice.
She stared at the door frame again, her eyes catching on the name located toward the middle in that black magic marker. LIZ '03, and just below it, for the first time, she saw another name, or rather, an initial. An S engraved into the wood grain of the doorframe next to the year 08. She felt him grab her hand, her eyes turning downward to see his fingers wrapped around hers. He squeezed gently, and she looked up into his eyes. "Sorry, I got lost there for a moment."
"S'okay," he squeezed her hand again and looked over at the door frame, thinking for a moment before bringing his attention back to her. "Should finish," he motioned to her plate with his chin.
"I'm just- suddenly not that hungry for it, here- you finish," she pushed the plate toward him and grabbed her glass, downing the rest of the juice.
"Carol." he said sternly, "ya gotta eat."
"You know what sounds good?" she squinted and pursed her lips as she pondered, standing suddenly and venturing into the pantry before he could reply. There, on a middle shelf to the right of the door, was a row and stack of pickle jars. "Pickles!" Her eyes darted to another shelf, spying an old but still edible bar of unsweetened baking chocolate, "And chocolate!" She quirked an eyebrow in sudden realization. "I must be getting my period soon," she mumbled.
"Yer what?" he called. Carol rejoined him at the table in the kitchen; she plopped the bar on the table and twisted the lid off the jar. His nose wrinkled in disgust, and he wafted the air in front of his nose, "My god."
She dug her fingers into the jar, pulled out a whole pickle, shook the excess vinegar back into the container, and closed her eyes as she bit into the crunchy yet sour flesh of the briney cucumber. She crunched loudly, "That's a good pickle."
"Smells like somethin' else," he winced.
"Daryl, you smelled worse than the dead the first two years we knew each other and I didn't complain." She rolled her eyes and took another bite of the pickle.
He scoffed, a smug look blooming on his face, "Did so- threatening to hose me down like I was some damn animal."
She raised her eyebrows and broke open the bar of chocolate next, cracking it between her fingers and holding a piece out to him, "After all that? I think you can handle the smell of pickled cucumbers," she sassed as Daryl swiped the piece of chocolate from her hand. "It's probably pretty bitter-"
"Ugh," he groaned, his face squinching up as he bit into it. "That's fuckin' awful!"
She shrugged, laughing softly as she popped a piece into her mouth, savoring the bitter flavor of the condensed and smooth cacao melting onto her tongue. She brushed off her hands and reached back into the jar of pickles. "Fine by me. Wanna try one of these?" she offered by sliding the jar across the table.
He popped the last of his sandwich in his mouth and put his hands up in defense, "think I'm good," he grimaced, stood, and began cleaning up their plates and glasses from the table. "Hey," he glanced over his shoulder as he started washing up in the kitchen sink. "You said somethin' in the pantry- bout- gettin' something?"
She paused halfway through another pickle, "My period."
His shoulders tensed, "Oh."
"It's no big deal," she shrugged, finishing the pickle and breaking off another piece of the chocolate bar. "I've been taking care of it on my own for years," she winked at him.
He blushed and turned back to his task, "S'not that, it's just-" he scratched the back of his head nervously and shut off the tap, drying his hands off on a towel. He turned to her, worry etched on his face. "We ain't been real careful," he began to chew nervously on his cuticle.
Her eyes widened in recognition, "Oh that." She shook her head quickly and popped a smaller pickle in her mouth before closing the jar and standing. "It's not going to be a problem," she said, walking to the fridge and putting the pickles in their new cool, dark home.
"But we-" he stared at her in confusion, crossing his arms and worrying his lip as he leaned against the counter.
She held her hands up, "I promise you. It's- it is VERY unlikely."
"You just said yer still gettin' your period that usually means-"
"No, it doesn't," She shook her head aggressively. "It didn't mean anything after Sophia, and that was... years. And... I'm pretty sure it means nothing now." she explained, casually wiping her hands on her pants and placing them on her hips. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm kind of old."
His face twisted in confusion, "Yer only four years older n' me."
"That means I'm forty-five. Practically out to pasture," Carol snorted and turned toward the living room.
He stepped forward, grasping her elbow as his irritation flared, "Hey! Don't say that shit about my wife." He scolded, pulling her into his arms.
She closed her eyes, shaking her head, "Sorry, Ed used to-"
He cut her off, pressing his hand to her mouth. Her eyes opened in surprise, and he shook his head vehemently at her, "Don't fuckin' care what that dead asshole thinks."
She pushed his hand away and scoffed, "Are you mad at me?"
"Yer being real mean to ya-self. Hate hearin' it," he frowned, his arms tightening around her waist as she tried to push him away. "Nuh-uh. You ain't goin' nowhere 'till we put this to bed," he glared.
"Daryl, if you put me to bed anymore, I won't be able to walk," she quipped.
His anger and irritation broke suddenly as he let out a short laugh. A pleased smile bloomed across Carol's face. He sighed, and she felt his grip relax. "Fuckin' quick on yer feet with that one," he snorted. She gave him a bashful smile. His hand came up to her face, his fingers tracing the lines of her eyebrows, "Beautiful too," his fingers glided down her nose, "...and smart..." along her jaw, "... and strong... and not old at all," his thumb gliding softly across her lips and across her cheek.
She leaned into the palm of his hand, a teasing look in her eyes, "I got the gray hair to prove it." She reached her hands between them to tickle at his stomach.
He flinched away briefly but pulled her back into his arms without missing a beat, "Stahp, you just tryin' to distract me now." He raised his hand to run it through her hair, marveling momentarily at the softness of the silver strands sifting between his fingers. "It's beautiful too, don't mean shit that it's gray," he grumbled, shaking his head.
"Bet I could find some box dye," she tickled him again, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Think I spied some in the upstairs bathroom; you like redheads?" she raised her eyebrows as she tried to squirm out of his grasp.
Daryl held on tightly, his body shaking with laughter, "Don't ya dare!" His hand reached around the back of her head and drew her closer, their foreheads touching, a smug, smitten look on his face, "Love ya just like this."
She nodded, her cheeks flushed, "Yeah?"
"Mhmm," their bodies swaying together in a gentle rhythm.
"Yeah, well, that kind of compliment isn't gonna get you outta doing the dishes," her tone still teasing as she gave him a chaste kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He laughed again. "Had to try," he winked, their swaying coming to a halt as he leaned in and kissed Carol soundly, stifling any remaining laughter and replacing it with returned desire.
End Chapter Notes: I hope you enjoyed this sweet, fluffy honeymoon phase of a chapter.
At the end of chapter 16, I swore up and down to myself that I only had two chapters left. And then chapter 17 happened, and it got so long that I had to split it into two. So, who knows how long this fic will really be, but I have loved diving deep into this story, expanding it, and exploring these characters in this environment. Definitely more on the way :)
