A/N: This takes place in an alternate season 2, in the sense that the farm finale never happened and they were able to stay a bit longer. Enjoy.
Reading time: about 5 mins.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
Grumpy Smurf~
"I've finally got it figured out," Carol said as she walked up to the scowling man tending to his bike. "You're Grumpy Smurf."
For the past few days, Carol had been trying to figure out what cartoon character Daryl reminded her of, with little success. She had come close, but none of them had hit home.
"Really?" He asked, putting down his wrench and turning to squint up at her. "And how do ya figure that?"
"Well," she said, crossing her arms and looking at the ground in thought. "You hate everything."
He scoffed. "No I don't."
"Yes you do," she said, nodding slowly.
"Really?" Daryl stood up, wiping his forehead with his arm and stepping towards her. "Prove it."
Her eyebrows shot up, but nevertheless decided to humor him.
"Well, let's see..."
Daryl stubbed his foot on a rock as the group moved through the woods.
"DAMMIT! I HATE ROCKS!"
Daryl spat out the swig of water inside his drinking cup.
"I HATE creek water!"
Daryl rubbed his eyes as he stepped out of the RV.
"I hate Mornin's..."
Daryl hurled his bag across the field as Carl ran far from sight.
"I HATE kids!"
Daryl punched with all his might into the nearest tree.
"I HATE feelings!"
"I HATE cardigans!"
"I HATE music!"
"I HATE apples!"
"I HATE Cadillacs!"
"I HATE Mondays!"
"And then of course there's the time when you said you hated everything," Carol finished, smiling matter-of-factly at him.
He scoffed. "Hmph. Well you're wrong. I don't 'hate' everything."
"Really?" She mused, not bothering to hide her smirk of disbelief. "Prove it."
He stared at her, long and hard, and after ten seconds of saying nothing, Carol threw her hands up and turned away in victory.
"Hey!" he called. "Don't you walk away from me!"
Sighing dramatically, she threw her head back and turned back around to face him, crossing her arms.
"Yes?" she asked.
"I don't hate everything," he said again, more sternly this time.
"Okay. And what don't you hate?" she prodded, staring at him expectantly.
He glared at her, clearly angry that he couldn't think of anything (or just couldn't bring himself to say it) and his lips twitched uncontrollably as he fought to get something - anything - to come out of his mouth.
After waiting a very long five seconds, Carol exhaled and turned away again.
"Wha- hey!"
A hand clamped around her wrist and whirled her back around - she didn't have a chance to protest as the next thing she knew, a pair of soft lips crashed into hers.
After a moment of shock, she pulled away, blinking rapidly as she brought her free hand up to wipe her mouth.
She stared at Daryl, who looked both relieved and stressed and angry and happy all at the same time, and it was she who couldn't speak now.
He let go of her wrist, breathing significantly heavier than he had been a few seconds ago.
"...There. Does that answer yer question?"
Carol blinked, brows still raised. "U- uh...um...y- yeah. Yeah, it- it does, I...guess..."
He nodded. "...Good."
He turned on his heel and stomped back to his dismantled motorcycle, and Carol numbly turned around and walked back to the farmhouse, not quite sure how to feel.
Eventually the initial shock wore off, and when she found herself able to think again, it hit her.
"Bashful," she decided, once she was inside.
"He's the Bashful dwarf."
A/N: Ugh, Caryl ideas keep hitting me like crazy, beating me with their insistent yet beautiful and gentle fists until I write them down.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Daryl may be Grumpy on the outside, but really, he's just Bashful ;P
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