Chapter Text
Sometimes Daryl still wanted to stab himself in the eye for ever turning down Carol's "romantic" suggestion of "screwing around", though it had happened years and years ago.
A chunk of him had wanted to grab her and kiss her then and there, but where would that have left them? She was his favourite person, ever. Besides, he didn't want to be anyone's single night of relief, even hers.
Especially hers.
If she was even serious.
And he'd probably be no damn good at it, anyway.
So, he had made a half rude, half misbelieving sound at her suggestion and that had been that. Opportunity squandered. She never made that offer again. Instead she made one more joke about going down that made him feel awkward and flushed, but thankfully she had stopped her teasing when he had asked her to. That was the thing about Carol; she was challenging as fuck but she always respected certain personal boundaries. It should have been a difficult balance but Carol made it seem easy.
It wasn't as easy for him. Feelings and how to express them had never been. Not when Merle had picked on him for being too sensitive and called him Darylina, and not after, when he and Merle had stumbled into the group of survivors that had become his family in a way that was all new and that Merle or his parents had never been. Not that it was hard to surpass the Dixons in kindness, but it was harder to learn to accept kindness from others. It was so much easier for Daryl to give than to take.
He knew Carol needed time and space to put herself back together, but before Daryl had had the chance to pull his head out of his ass, "King" Ezekiel was in the picture. That someone so idealistic and not at all practical about it had survived thus far in this world had amazed Daryl, but he had had no problem with the king until he made his interest in Carol known. Worn down by all her responsibilities and the things she had had to do to keep her people safe, Carol had let herself believe in a happier ending. Henry had sealed that deal. Sometimes Daryl felt like the King purposefully bound Carol to himself using Henry. Daryl didn't doubt his feelings for the boy or for Carol, but there was something about it that Daryl didn't like.
As hard as it had been for Daryl to see and think of her as married, he had been happy that she was happy. Or at least, close enough to it, in this world of "after". She had even grown out her hair. Daryl still remembered his shock at seeing it for the first time, and how he had felt when Henry explained to him why. He was elated that she had gotten over her fears, but he was weak enough to feel stricken that another man had brought that about.
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Carol couldn't remember when it was that she had started noticing the way Daryl ate.
He didn't always get enough in him because he put everyone else's needs ahead of his own, but when he did eat there was something unstoppable about him. His table manners might have been more feral than was expected and accepted, but his pace was quick and steady, like a person who knew from first hand experience that all things could still be taken away. He relished every last morsel, whether it was meat, bread or something else. He always licked and sucked his fingers after he was done.
Somewhere deep inside where she had no responsibilities and no shame, Carol wanted to be consumed the way Daryl devoured his food; methodical and tireless.
Things between them were strained right now, and for the first time she wasn't sure if they could mend it.
It wasn't that she had taken Daryl for granted, at least she hoped that wasn't it. They had always gotten each other from a single word or a look, though it had taken time for Daryl to be more open with everyone else. It hadn't taken Carol long at all to recognize a kindred spirit, existing under someone else's shadow. Sometimes she was paralyzed by the fear of "what if". What if Ed and Merle hadn't died? What if Daryl and her had never gotten free? Would they have had the courage to stand up? Was everything that they had achieved been the result of a single touch of fate?
She couldn't allow herself to think that way.
She had remade herself over so many times, and each time Daryl had been there, accepting her as she was. He had accepted the beaten up scared mouse she started as and the assassin she became. He had rolled his eyes at the Queen, but his expression had said it all. He didn't believe in titles and authority figures, but to him she had always been a queen.
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Despite his feelings for Carol, Leah had been his first.
It had taken him a long time to get used to being casually touched and not flinching at a sudden move made in his presence, not that it hadn't served him well during this walker apocalypse. Touches weren't casual for him, and for a long time they hadn't ever been a positive thing. Carol had been patient, as had the others. Holding Little Asskicker for the first time had changed something, too. The kids hugged him all the time, and while the grownups kept a more polite distance, pats on the back or a hand on his shoulder weren't uncommon.
As far as women went, he had kissed a couple of girls in his day, but he had never wanted to be bare with any of them, and though he imagined himself as horny as any other teenage boy, he hadn't really wanted to peel off their clothes either. It was all too intimate.
Merle had thought there was something wrong with him, and that possibly, he was gay. Hadn't that been a fun conversation?
Women had made offers to him, some more eloquently than Carol, and some not. He didn't know what it was about Leah that made him able to make the jump. Maybe it was that she wasn't a part of his community, and that they were isolated. Maybe the timing was finally just right. He was no spring chicken, after all. She was there, and she liked him. He liked her well enough, and he adored Dog. Carol was away, and married. It had happened quite naturally, for him being in his late fourties and not knowing what the fuck he was doin'. But he had always been a quick learner and he had a healthy respect for women. Or an unhealthy need to please, either or.
It was funny how it was both nothing and everything like he had expected. There was so much to learn to get caught up, but he liked the afterwards part better, when they didn't have to talk but they could. Dog would jump on the bed and lay on their feet and Leah would try to get him off the bed half heartedly. It felt normal and tender in a world that was anything but.
Obviously it couldn't last. Good things so rarely did, in this world or the one that had come before.
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Carol didn't quite know how to act around Daryl anymore.
When she and the rest of the group had waited on the roof of a military base, Daryl had given her a look that was so scorching that it had flayed her from top to stern and had left her wondering how no one else noticed. It was challenge, it was sorrow, it was ownership. She knew she could not have imagined that look, but no one else acknowledged it. They never did.
For such a long time it had seemed that people just dismissed these things; it was just how Daryl and Carol operated. No one quite knew or cared what was going on, so what else was new. Carol had been married to King Ezekiel, but she had known Daryl way longer. This was an apocalypse, and what they did was their own business. Despite some gossip, everyone had much bigger fish to fry.
Carol wasn't stupid. She knew what some people thought, and sometimes it made her furious beyond reason. She had never cheated on anyone and she never would. She had killed, sure, but at least she was faithfull.
Daryl staid on the roof with other backup as team two lowered down the skylight with ropes. It had been a battle to get him to stay there; it wasn't in him to allow other people to go down and risk their necks while he staid behind. His job was to scout the whole area and give backup when it was needed.
Of course it was. Carol made sure to return his knives to him when they pulled her to safety at last. The look in his eyes was indecipharable.