There were many unspoken rules in the team's household.

For instance, Eugene owned his own special bottle of conditioner that no one else was allowed to touch. "It keeps the hair at maximum volume and sleekness. You know, for the ladies." He explained. Michonne had dibs on a bathroom first thing in the morning (and God help you if you took too long before her.) Maggie was in charge of singing Judith her favorite lullaby when she couldn't get to sleep at night. And Daryl had claim over one whole jar of food to himself.

It wasn't any specific brand or type of food, but whatever jar he had deemed as his was law. He had just finished off a jar of peanut butter the night prior, and he had picked up his latest snack earlier from Olivia. He had spent the better half of the day repairing the wall, and after long hours of heavy lifting and intense physical labor, he came home and instantly crashed onto the couch. A few hours and an aching back later, he was awake and ready to delve into his snack.

He eyed the jar of hazelnut spread that Olivia had practically thrown at him when he was perusing for a new treat. "Be careful; if you have an addictive personality, this stuff is worse than crack" she had warned with a wag of the finger.

He heard someone's feet padding on the hardwood floor behind him. "You had a nighttime craving too?" Carol warmly asked. Daryl twisted off the top and took a whiff of the spread. It even smelled enticingly sweet. He looked back up at his fellow diner, who was now head first in their fridge.

"I'm starvin'." He responded. "Went to eat some of your casserole when I got back, but Abe ate the whole damn thing."

Carol sighed as she closed the icebox. "Of course he did. That's what I was coming down here to munch on."

Daryl chuckled. "You need to start making two of everythin'. One for him, one for us."

"Yeah, right. I'll put you in charge of cooking for the endless void that is Abraham's stomach." She mused as she scanned all of the food on the counter. It was pointless, though. Being the house's chef, she already had a mental inventory over every food item in the house. "Carl ate the rest of the pudding cups." She regretfully reported to him and started scouting the pantry. "And I think Glenn finished off the peanut butter pretzel nuggets."

"Any more mini-muffins?" Daryl tried while scooping out a hearty helping of spread with his first two fingers.

"No, Rosita got to them before I could." She shut the cabinet and turned to Daryl. When her eyes caught sight of the jar, she jokingly gasped. "You have Nutella?"

Before he could respond, she strode over to him and gently grasped his hand. Without any hesitation, she wrapped her mouth over the sweetness coating his fingers. Daryl was speechless, and thought he was dying from an unattended walker bite when his neck got shot up a few degrees and his heart skipped a beat. There was nothing but static in his brain as she rose up, smacked her lips, and gave a content hum. "Perfect. That was exactly what I needed." She smiled, (and he think he saw her give a wink as she turned?) as she headed for the stairs. "Goodnight, Daryl." She practically sang.

All he managed were indiscernible noises as he was trying to talk with a mouth that might as well be made out of sand. After grunting out a flustered "night," he felt a presence behind him. He turned and saw Eugene standing at the edge of the kitchen, also watching Carol retreat to her bedroom. When Eugene's stare didn't break, Daryl made a point and cleared his throat.

Eugene snapped back to reality and his eyes darted between Daryl and the jar in front of him. "…I, too, enjoy Nutella."

"Don't even think about it." Daryl mumbled, scooping out another helping for himself.