Merry Christmas to our two love birds. We are inching closer, chapter by chapter, to something truly special finally happening between these two. We just need to give them a little time to keep opening up. Carol almost getting bit was enough to startle Daryl out of some intense emotional constipation and I've explored that further here while also giving them just the cutest, fluffiest, most healing celebration of the season that they deserve.

I don't own these characters or TWD

Vibes for this chapter were inspired by "Love is Christmas" by Sara Bareilles

Love is Christmas

Daryl watched her as Caryl lay, content as ever, on the couch, her foot poking out the side of her blankets. "You warm enough?" he asked as she settled under her covers.

"Plenty," she yawned again, covering her mouth. She turned onto her side and stared down at him, his head resting on his hands as he stared at the ceiling. "You good?" she asked.

"Mhmm." he turned his head to look at the tree glowing dimly as the fire in the stove waned. "Just thinkin' is all."

"Care to share with the class?"

He turned his body towards her and repositioned his pillow between his arm and head. "Still thinkin' bout you almost gettin' bit."

"Oh, Daryl!" she huffed. "I'm fine. See?" she held her left forearm above him. "Not even a bruise."

"Just- want you to be more careful if you ever go out alone. If I hadn't been there-"

"If you hadn't been there, I would have had to figure it out." She pouted and flipped onto her back. "Just like every other time you weren't there."

He sat up to get a better look at her, "Hey, no, don't do that to me," he pleaded.

"I'm not doing anything. I'm annoyed." Carol crossed her arms over her chest belligerently.

He threw up his hands, "I give up! Frustrating as fuck, one minute your all sweet and the next your hot-tempered. Pick a fuckin' mood!" he exclaimed as he laid back and turned away from her, facing the tree.

"I've been taking care of myself FOR MONTHS." her voice stern, emphatic.

"I ain't said you cain't." he fussed at her.

"I'm not helpless." she bit at him.

"Know that too," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Is it so bad I just don't wanna have to watch you die?"

"I don't want to fight." she grit out through her teeth.

"We promised each other. We ain't doing this alone anymore." Daryl tried to reason with her.

"I-" he waited for her to continue, "I'm sorry. You're right. I- you know what it was like for me before all this."

He rolled back over. "I ain't your dead husband," he stated matter of fact.

"I know," she replied sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Know yer strong-independent. Know ya can take care yourself." His voice trembled, "But, my heart damn near stopped when I saw that thing bite down on you. And all because I was being an ass-"

"You weren't. Aside from almost dying, it's the best day I've had in literal years." She let out a small chuckle and then a loud sigh. I lied when I said I hadn't had a real tree since before Ed, ya know." She turned back toward him, her expression softened to one of sadness. She hung her hand next to the couch as an invitation. He accepted and took hold of it.

"S'not surprisin'. My ol' man destroyed a lot of things for me. Merle, too." he snorted.

"Sophia was five." She sniffled suddenly. He squeezed her hand, encouraging her, "Ed gave me enough money to buy a small tree, and she had just started talking about Santa the year before." she took a deep breath as a tear slipped down her cheek. He wiped the moisture from her eye with his thumb. She closed her eyes at his touch but continued the story, "So, I went out with her to the tree farm, and we got the perfect tree, kept it under budget, came home made snowflake ornaments, cranberry, and popcorn garlands and threw enough tinsel at the damn thing to last a lifetime. It was magical," she hiccuped. She swiped at both eyes. This memory hurt.

"You were a good mama."

She shook her head, "Not that year. That year- he was so mad about all the presents. I told him I hadn't spent anything. The Church had donated most of it." She took another deep breath, "That made him even angrier. Christmas Eve, she watched as he burned the tree in the backyard along with all her presents. Then he smacked me so hard I saw stars. I just remember her crying as I popped my shoulder back in and tried to hide the new bruises so we could still go to Church the next day." She laughed at herself. "It was so damn stupid."

"Hey," he squeezed her hand to get her attention as she drifted further into the pain of the memory. "Look at me."

Her eyes met his in a watery glance. "Hmmm?"

"Promise me somethin'?" he asked.

He watched her eyes close, but more tears started falling. He sat up again and held her head in both of his hands. He wiped gently under both her eyes as her hand covered one of his.

"What?" she asked, her eyes suddenly aflame at his closeness.

"Promise me. Tomorrow, no matter what happens. We remake somethin' we never had- together." he spoke evenly. "New life, new traditions. We can do whatever we want. Those assholes that hurt you and me?" She nodded; he continued, "They're dead, but we're still here." He ran his hand down her face, over her shoulder, and rubbed her upper arm. He felt her shiver at the touch.

She nodded, half-lidded, and gripped his hand harder, "Promise."

He paused and leaned in, his eyes shifting from the blue of her eyes to the shape of her lips, parted slightly, inviting. He thought about kissing her, just this once. He wasn't blind to the similar desire in her eyes. Instead, he chickened out and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before he patted her arm and settled back onto his pallet. "Goodnight," he spoke awkwardly to the ceiling.

"Night," she replied softly with a sigh and turned away.

A few hours after their awkward goodnight, Carol was startled awake by the sound of the wind rattling the windows and the roof and the whole house groaning in agony. The stove was out with only a few glowing embers left. She crawled out from under her blankets and tip-toed over to the window, swiping the edge of the cover open an inch. The wind pelted the snow harder at the windows, making visibility impossible. She dropped the blanket back in place and went to the back room to relieve herself.

As she finished, she heard his frantic call from the living room, "NO! Carol!" She rushed back to the living room to Daryl, writhing on the floor, panting and calling her name. "Carol, please, don't- "

She knelt down next to him on the floor and touched his shoulder gently. "Daryl."

"Carol," he whined near tears.

"Daryl," she shook him again. "You're having a nightmare," she whispered.

"Carol?" His hand reached out in panic, grasping at her arms and gripping her waist. He pulled her body closer to him in the dark, "Thank fuck! It wasn't real," he gasped, his body breathing fast and deep against her.

"Shhh." she soothed, gently holding his face in the palm of her hand. "It's okay," she assured him, feeling the tension of the dream leaving his body. You're okay now." She stood to get back on the couch. Daryl's hands stayed firm on her waist.

"Please?" In a low, trembling voice, he pleaded, "Stay with me?"

She paused, still looming over him, his hands holding her firmly. She bit her lip in uncertainty.

She felt his hands tighten, "Please." he begged.

She nodded into the dark, barely making out his features. "Scoot over." He paid her no mind as he reached for her covers from the couch, pulled her directly into his side forcefully, and covered them both with all of the blankets. Having nowhere else to put it, Carol placed her hand gently over his chest as she lay sandwiched between the couch and his body. She waited, eyes open and heart pounding at the closeness and the feel of his body humming and beating against hers. Finally, he drifted into sleep again, his breaths deeper, his heartbeat slowing. She relaxed, evened out her breathing, and followed him into sleep.

The sound of something sizzling and a grown man fumbling around in the kitchen pulled Carol from her dreamless slumber the following morning. Her eyes blinked slowly in the dim light of the living room. She yawned, and a small smile of delight fell to her lips. She turned to his pillow and took a deep breath, thinking about their closeness in the late hours of the night. His spot beside her was empty, but she wasn't alarmed this time. She settled back into the blanket and closed her eyes to listen as he hummed softly in the other room, pouring coffee and then setting plates on the table. She heard him shuffle to the woodpile and ever so quietly open the stove and start a fire, trying his best not to disturb her before he went back to the kitchen, where she heard the faint sounds of water bubbling over. The smell of roasting wafted through the air. She screwed up her face in confusion. 'What is he up to?'

"Oh shit!" he muttered, and she heard him moving pans around. Feelings of fondness bloomed in her chest.

She unfolded herself from the blankets and sat up, staring at the tree in the late morning light. She beamed at the memory of his hands putting the paper garland together and then helping her drape it on the tree and then her giggle when he'd hung one of her snowflakes on the very top in place of the star. As much as he had grumbled at her decorating direction, she'd spied his own whisper of a smirk as he did what she asked.

She quickly ran her hands through her hair, trying to spare herself any teasing looks from him. Satisfied it wouldn't be horrendous, she stood from the floor and pulled on her sweater and boots. Like a kid on Christmas morning, she peered around the kitchen doorway, "Morning."

He turned from the camping stove and blushed three different shades of red. "Mornin'," a pleased smile slowly spread across his face. "Sleep okay?"

She stepped further into the kitchen, "I should be asking you that."

"Pfft." he brushed her off and turned back to the small pot on the camping stove, swiping a rag along the edge of the counter to clean up a small mess he'd made.

"What are you doing?"

He turned around and quickly pulled out a chair for her, "Here, come and sit."

She was stunned. "Daryl? You did all of this by yourself?"

Daryl motioned for her to sit again, and she finally obliged. He handed her a coffee. "Fresh brewed the way you like," he winked and turned back to the counter to stir something simmering.

She took a sip, and her eyes widened in surprise, "You said we didn't have hot cocoa!" she exclaimed. That pulled a hearty laugh from him. She took another warm sip and moaned in pleasure. "My God, I could kiss you."

He leaned just then over her, one arm braced on the back of the chair. "Hold still." She froze as he leaned, his breath grazing her cheek as his hand removed something on her cheek in a whisper-soft touch. He paused and stared directly into her eyes, and she felt her heart begin to pound. 'Would he?' she thought. His eyes shifted subtly to her lips, and she felt the cup slip from her hands.

His reflexes kicked in, and he caught it before it tumbled, and the tension suddenly broke. He stood up and bit his nail nervously, "Eyelash on ya cheek." She watched as his neck and cheeks flushed a deeper crimson.

She cleared her throat, "Sorry, I shouldn't say things like that." His nearness was making her flustered. She chuckled nervously to the mug in her hand, now stable, "Almost ruined the hot chocolate, too, and that would be terrible."

"Got plenty." he turned back to the camping stove again.

She turned her gaze to the table he'd painstakingly prepared for them. It was apparent he had been busy this morning. Several dishes sat ready on the table: a can of cranberry sauce emptied into a small dish with a cow on the side, a roasted pheasant sitting on a cream-colored plate, and something that looked like mashed potatoes in a blue bowl with white flowers. In the center between their plates were two lit candles and a beautiful arrangement of holly berries. She looked up at him with awe as he leaned against the counter.

"Merry Christmas," he spoke with joy and affection as his gaze landed on her.

"Daryl- how did you-?"

"Went out early again while ya was dreaming of sugar plums." he joked.

Her eyes were shedding tears of joy. She hadn't seen him near this jovial since they'd decorated the tree the night before. "This is what you didn't want me to see last night?" she asked.

His eyes twinkled. "Got the pheasant early this mornin'." he took his seat across from Carol and grabbed her hand. "Wanted you to have somethin' special. Ain't neither of us had no real Christmas before."

"We don't even know if it's really Christmas." she realized.

"Pfft! Who ya gonna call Santa? He gonna lock us up for not knowin' what day it is?" he scoffed.

"Should we really be using all of these supplies?" she worried.

He shrugged. "That house? You saw s' full of anythin' we need. Could probably do one more run, and we'll be set for a while." Absentmindedly, he lifted the bowl of mashed potatoes, ready to serve her. "What do you want first?"

She stared at him, her mouth open in shock. "I-"

"That's the first time I've seen you speechless for anythin'," he teased and set the bowl back on the table.

"This-" her lip quivered, "You did all of this for me. I've never had anything this nice, either. And... Daryl, I didn't get you anything!"

He beamed at her and chuckled, "Time for that. Really, only one thing I wanted this year anyway."

"Oh?" she asked.

He leaned both elbows on the table, "Just wanted you- safe- with me." He paused, then took in her face. She gave him an affectionate smile as he rubbed his hands together, "Now, to official business for the day: food." He reached past a candle and grasped the bowl of potatoes, heaping a spoonful on Carol's plate. "The way I see things is- there ya go," he set the bowl back on the table. "We don't know what'll happen tomorrow, but we get today. We get all of this, and we should enjoy it-" He motioned to the potatoes on the table, "Wasn't sure they'd still be good, but they smell okay. Tasted 'em, and they weren't half bad. No butter, but- you need salt?" He asked, somehow conjuring up a pair of salt and pepper shakers.

She shook her head, and he picked up a knife, pulling the pheasant toward him. Just as he was getting ready to cut into the bird, she touched his forearm. Happy tears filled her eyes. "Thank you."

He shrugged the knife poised in his hand, "know it's not much."

"It's perfect." She picked up her fork and dug into the instant potatoes while he cut up the bird. Pride and joy were evident in his eyes. "Got another surprise for you after this." His eyes twinkled as he focused on serving her different parts of the pheasant.

"You're ridiculous. What more could you possibly do?"

"A few things, dessert being one." he winked.

"Okay, truly, I might just have to kiss you," she said without any forethought.

"Don't make promises you won't be keepin'," he replied just as quickly. He waited a beat for a reply as Carol let out the biggest belly laugh he'd ever heard from her. His smirk grew into a full smile.

She wiped tears of joy from her eyes at his teasing, "You got me back good with that." He smiled then, clearly pleased with himself. "You give as good as you get." She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

"Stahp," he blushed into his hot chocolate as he sipped and set his mug down. He picked up his knife and fork and pointed at her plate. "Eat, and then I'll show you what else I have planned."