Walking Dead Troth

Carol stretched and propped her hands behind her head so she could watch him. "It just goes to show you, Daryl - there's still a little beauty to be found in the world."

"Guess so," he rumbled from the other end of the bed, more than a bit tipsy. He was leaning up against the frame, doing his inebriated best to peel the sock from her foot. "Thought Glenn was gonna pass out, though. We probably shouldn't have kept him up drinkin' 'til all hours last night. Thought _Maggie _was gonna stick a knife in 'im when he fucked up his vows." He finally succeeded in getting the sock off and pulled the foot into his lap, massaging it with his thumbs.

"You didn't really improve the situation by laughing, either," Carol said, half-giggling and half-aroused by what he was doing to her foot. He loved fooling around with that spot in the arch, the one that got her totally revved up. She gave up on trying to wiggle free and instead got a little revenge by pressing the ball of her foot firmly against his erection, making him jerk and curse under his breath.

"Minx."

"Wimp."

"_Wimp?_ Oh, now you're really askin' for it!" He pulled his legs back and dove the length of the bunk, grabbing her wrists and pinning her underneath him. "Now whatcha gonna do, smartass? Who's the wimp now?"

Carol squirmed and opened her legs, bringing him hard up against her. "You are," she grinned, her eyes daring him to do his worst.

"I am what?" He dipped his head and dragged his teeth across her collarbone, drawing a hiss from her.

"You are… _oh!_" Her eyes went wide and then fluttered shut as he planted his hands on the bed and raised up, grinding his hips into her and shoving her further up the bed. "You are _so_ good at this, Mister Wimpy," she purred, winding her arms silkily around his neck.

He growled and pushed against her again, slowly. "Keep it up, chuckles, I'm apt to quit this and leave you hangin'."

"No, you… _mmm_, no you won't, Daryl." She freed one leg from beneath the sheet and wrapped it around his ass, pulling him in so tight he had trouble moving. She hitched her pelvis against him, making him grunt in frustration. His face hung temptingly above her, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging him down so she could slide her lips along his jaw and up to his mouth, opening her own and slipping her tongue in to meet his, tasting the whiskey he'd been drinking. He held himself perfectly still over her, their mouths slithering lazily together, and she could feel their mirrored pulses everywhere their bodies touched.

His voice was dark as he muttered against her mouth, "Jesus but I love you, you crazy woman," and Carol thought her heart would stop. With all the heated things they'd said to each other in the dark, neither of them had ever said _love_ before now. She brought her hand around to cup his cheek, and her thumb stroked the high bone there as she looked into his face, wanting to memorize everything about it.

His eyes opened as he felt the change in her, and he said, hesitantly, "Carol?"

"Mm-hm," she said, knowing her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "You're my miracle, Daryl, did you know that? I never thought I would fall in love again, ever, and yet here you are, and I love you so much I can hardly breathe with it sometimes."

By way of answer he bent his head and kissed her again, his hips rocking gently against her, and Carol felt something inside her crack and splinter, like the last of the shell that had encased her heart had finally broken, leaving her completely open and vulnerable to him.

Daryl raised his head, his eyes searching hers, and rolled to the side, holding her hips and bringing her with him so she straddled him. He caught her hands in his and said, "I was thinkin' maybe we'd do like Maggie and Glenn and make this official."

She got a lump in her throat, and she couldn't get her breath for a moment. "Daryl, I…" She hesitated, not knowing quite how she felt about the matter, or what to say.

"Or not," he said, his voice suddenly tight. "It was just an idea."

"It's a big step," Carol said, cautiously. "I'm not saying I don't want to, I just…" She didn't know what she wanted. She had wanted _him_, for so long, and now that she had him she wasn't sure what should be next. And did it even matter anymore? There was no one to give them a piece of paper that said they belonged to each other, not that any piece of paper would change that in any case. But she saw in his eyes that it mattered to _him_, to be able to say he was hers, and she was his. To have their friends, their family, watch them say the words that bound them to each other.

She smiled down at him, seeing the uncertainty in his face, and said, "Ask me again."

His eyes softened. "Wait a minute." He slid out from under her and pulled her to the edge of the bunk, getting down on his knees in front of her, grimacing as they hit the concrete. She held back a laugh, not wanting to spoil his moment.

"Marry me, Carol. I ain't got anything to give you except me, body and soul, but I'll do my best to make sure you never regret it."

"Okay," she said, and he smiled, more brightly than she'd ever seen.

"_Okay_?"

"Yes, Daryl. I'll marry you."

His breath gusted out in relief, and he climbed back in the bed to take her in his arms. "Holy shit."

"And we can have a gigantic wedding with eighteen attendants and a caterer and a band and…"

"Just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? Jesus, what am I lettin' myself in for?"

"Still sure you want to marry me?"

"Hell, yeah. My minx."


End file.

Walking Dead, Humor, Romance