Chapter Text
I was alright for a while
I could smile for a while
But I saw you last night
You held my hand so tight
As you stopped to say hello
Oh, you wished me well
You couldn't tell that I've been
Crying over you
Crying over you
Then you said so long
Left me standing all alone
Alone and crying
Crying, crying, crying
It's hard to understand
But the touch of your hand
Can start me crying
I thought that I was over you
But it's true, so true
I love you even more than I did before
But darling, what can I do?
For you don't love me
And I'll always be
Crying over you
Crying over you
Yes, now you're gone
And from this moment on
I'll be crying…
The first time she opened the door to him, she hesitated for a breathless moment before pulling him into a hug. The second time he knocks at her door and she opens it, she doesn't hesitate. She pulls him into a kiss.
Letting him leave hadn't felt right. She'd turned on the spot, nearly called after him, ran after him. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to stay or if she wanted to leave with him. She just knew that letting him leave – like that, just then – felt wrong. Painfully pre-emptory.
Her arms wrap round his shoulders and Daryl responds immediately, opening his mouth and kissing her back. But the kiss isn’t complete, he breaks from her mouth long enough to say:
“Or I could–”
“Stay,” she pants, “Yeah,” and tugs his mouth back to hers.
She pulls him over the threshold by his shirt front and he kicks the door shut behind him. His rucksack and crossbow drop to the floor. She's already unbuckling him as he rips off his vest. They pull at bits of each other's clothing as they stumble toward the fire, lowering in a tangle of urgent limbs to the rug. They haven’t even settled into the embrace when they hear one of her tripwires go off. They simultaneously stop and turn. Daryl looks over his shoulder, waits for the growl of a walker or the whine of an animal. Hearing nothing, he turns back to her, asking with an impatient humph:
“How many secret admirers do you have??”
Carol smiles, mutters that it’s probably nothing, and pulls his mouth back to hers.
-x-
At the table, he asked about Ezekiel. He wanted to get a sense of just how safe Carol was under the jurisdiction of this theatrical monarch. He also got a vibe from the other man. A smitten vibe. A possessive vibe. Carol's response was predictably ambiguous.
“So you like him?" he pressed, shoveling stew into his mouth.
“He likes me," she answered. “There's a difference.”
He nodded a few times. “He botherin’ you?”
“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” she replied, face and voice impervious.
Daryl grunted, eyes flicking up to hers. He ate some more stew, in part because he’d missed her cooking and in part because he was trying not to comment on the character or caliber of her various admirers, not to betray any jealous or protective feeling. He didn’t succeed, muttering eventually:
“The men you attract…”
Her eyes glinted in the candlelight. “What about ‘em?"
He hummed over a mouthful, thought back on that Axel creep, whose tall stories were forever changing, getting increasingly improbable. Then there was her latest conquest, Tobin, who he had the misfortune of witnessing don a cape and perform magic tricks for some kid’s birthday party in Alexandria.
“Always the freaks and weirdos,” he commented into his bowl.
Carol gave a low chuff. “Tell me about it.”
He stopped and looked up, spoon halfway to his mouth. A glob of stew dropped off it and back into the bowl. “Should I be offended by that?”
She straightened a little, tilted her head in her hand. “I dunno, should you be?”
Daryl spooned some more stew into his bowl and ate it. Carol watched him, her other hand resting near his but not touching. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, more serious.
“Tobin wasn't so weird.”
It was the first time the other man’s name had passed between them. Daryl stabbed at a few vegetable chunks with his spoon. He remembered seeing her kiss him at that goddamn party. She’d adjusted the collar of his black cape with her hands, kissed him with her lips, looked at him with those eyes. She’d had to rise up on her tiptoes to reach him. There were streamers and balloons all around them. Kids were running around in circles. The sun was shining and music was playing and he didn’t know where to look or what he was even doing there.
“He went to fuckin’ magic school,” was all he could muster in reply.
Carol adjusted her chin in her hand. “That was a part-time thing, when he was in college.”
Daryl blew on his mouthful then ate it. “Still.”