Okay guys:

Blame Gone Random for this one. Not me. (That's right, I'm throwin' you under the bus and RUNNING DAFUQ AWAY) ;)

This one's a slightly angsty crack!fic inspired by a line from one of my recent oneshots, Ultimatum.

As always, I own nothing, and please forgive the obvious OOC-ness of this little ficlet!

It's all in good fun ^.^

It was funny how some of their conversations started. It was funny how as the months went by, they started having conversations.

It was even funnier when they ended with Daryl falling flat on his face.

Rick wasn't one to prod into another's business unless it was absolutely necessary. He'd spent the winter letting Lori offer him looks of disappointment, shock, and longing, kept his distance and focused more on keeping her and the baby healthy. He'd allowed Carl more leadership, shown him more trust, kept the group moving as a tight unit without doubt or fear.

He wasn't blind to how Carl smiled in Beth's company, how the little teen stared after the young woman like a lovesick puppy. A year before, pre-coma, he would have poked fun over his son's 'first crush'.

Now, he merely noticed it, and let it be.

He also noticed how his closest friend was behaving similarly, how the woman in said friend's sights was reciprocating that attention.

Rick knew Daryl and Carol were developing a special friendship even before they left the farm, something tense but subtle, born from the blood and dirt and tears of Sophia's disappearance and death. It stayed that way until some few weeks after they'd gone on the run, attempting to stay ahead of or avoid the massive herd that overran the farm and left them without home or hope.

It was when Carol asked him to teach her to shoot that things began to change, when he agreed to do so right in front of Daryl and the other man all but jumped at the opportunity to help show her the ropes of rifling.

By the time she'd started perfecting her aim, Carol and Daryl were smiling at each other, touching without intense awkwardness, having little private moments away from everyone else.

And it was funny to him, strange even, that several months later, as he and Daryl trekked through the thick brush on a hare hunt, that his friend's budding relationship was the first thing that came to mind when he decided to start a conversation.

"So, Daryl…why exactly don't you and Carol share a bed?"

Rick didn't expect the man, walking several feet ahead of him, to stumble with an audible gasp-slash-curse and catch himself against a nearby tree, whirling around to stare at him in confused shock.

Daryl blinked and his eyebrows scrunched together.

"I….what?"

The look Daryl set on him was one that seemed to say Sorry, this information is still processing, and the bow on his back rose and fell visibly as the man's breathing began to heave. Rick hadn't meant to upset the man, but he really was curious…

After all, he'd noticed how every time they stopped at an abandoned house Daryl would hover nearby while Carol settled in to whatever bedspace she took for the night, how he'd watch her curl up and seem to want to walk over and join her but never did, settling instead for taking first watch or nodding off against a wall not far from where she slept.

With the winter hitting them full-force now, it only made sense to…

He shrugged at Daryl's silent shock and forced back a grin.

"It's just…you two are pretty close now, and I just figured…"

"Figured what?"

Those wide eyes had suddenly sharpened, accusing.

He shook his head. Lifted his hands in mock defense.

"Nothing. I mean…never mind it, then. Come on, let's bag us some dinner."

Daryl nodded, letting a look of frustrated suspicion linger over him before turning back to lead him further into the wooded field. Rick mimicked Daryl's careful steps. He didn't hunt all too much before waking up to the end of the world, so he wouldn't dare be so prideful as to think he didn't have a lot to learn from the expert tracker.

But as Rick watch Daryl's steps grow more and more stiff, his back more and more rigid, he knew his friend was paying little attention to the hunt itself.

So he stopped, watched as Daryl kept moving, slow and unaware.

And tried again.

"It's just, you know, it's getting pretty cold these nights and—"With a huff Daryl whipped around, his head shaking slightly. Their eyes met. Rick saw the combination of pleading and warning within them. This time, he did smile. He couldn't help it. For some damn reason, he really wanted to know.

"And, you're always sleepin' near her anyway."

A few long strides brought Daryl suddenly, swiftly, across the brush and just a few steps from him.

"The hell you….I….Carol put you up to this?"

"What? No….why would she?"

"Cause' she likes messin' with me these days."

"That a bad thing?"

Daryl faltered at his question and paused, eyes darting away from his and into the woods.

"No."

"So seriously…everyone else bundles together at night, Daryl. Keep warm with body heat. You just gonna let Carol curl up by herself and sleep cold?"

The moment the accusation left his mouth Rick regretted it.

In a flurry of movement Daryl was in his face for the first time since Atlanta, breath hot in his eyes.

"Why the hell you puttin' it on me? She's not….we….it ain't like that."

Sure looks like it is.

With a small step back Rick nodded and held eye contact. Daryl quickly diffused and backed down.

"Just drop it, Rick."

He held up his hands again.

"Okay, okay."

He waited for Daryl to resume his careful steps back through the way he came, took a low position farther behind him than previous. For several minutes, they were silent, the rustle of clothes and the crunch of grass the only sounds to be heard.

Rick watched a squirrel dart from a hole at the bottom of a tree. It spotted him instantly and dashed back the way it came.

"You could ask her when we get back, to sleep with you. Just to see her reaction."

His mouth clamped shut when he realized he'd said it out loud.

Far ahead of him, a muttered curse that sounded awfully close to "the fuck?" was followed by a small crash. More curses followed. His name was involved.

Rick picked up speed to jump over the rotten tree stump Daryl had tripped over.

Daryl himself was picking himself off the dead grass, face down and seething.

He couldn't fight back his chuckle.

"Sorry, Daryl. Just…forget we had this discussion?"

Furious eyes shot to the side at him and a murmured response spat dead leaves his way.

"Not a problem. At all."