Busted

By: FrankieLouWho

Rating: T (to be safe)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Walking Dead. I just take them out and play with them :]

Author's Note: Everyone has been asking for more Carl/Lizzie, and while I am working on a sequel to Waste of an Arrow, I've hit a bit of a wall. However, I mentioned in a chapter of Part II that Rick had busted the kids making out in their 'spot' and wanted to give you guys a little outtake/preview of what is to come. I hope it satisfies your LARL? CAZZIE? hunger. Thank you for reading, if you do, and for reviewing - if you do. Ya'll mean the world to me and your input and criticism are much appreciated, and I cherish each review I recieve!

Without further ado, here is a C/L oneshot! Enjoy!

It was almost pitch black out when Lizzie slipped from her cell. Mika was already passed out on the top bunk, one arm dangling low and the mess of her blonde hair fanned on the pillow beneath her head. Lizzie sent a smile at the slumbering girl, full of love and affection. It seemed like only the little kids and the way old people could sleep like that anymore - the rest of them were too worried, their minds worrying into the dark, starry nights. The only sounds coming around her were the snores and sleep sounds that people made at night time, and Lizzie was grateful for the sound as she readed to her secret place. Her boots were quiet scuffs on the cat-walk, then nearly mute on the metal stairs as she traipsed down, down. She didn't need to look into Carl's cell to know it was empty - he had watch duty after dinner, and then he would be waiting for her.

She was glad that she found the spot before anyone else. The little over-hang was perfect. They could see all around, see if anyone was coming, any commotion in the yard. It was weirdly comforting but Lizzie could also hear the walkers, batting against the chainlink fence. Hearing their distant groans was comforting because it meant they were on the outside, trying to get in. Even though they'd had to reinforce the gate in many places, it was still strong, secure. Safe as houses. Safer than houses.

"Hey," Carl grunted, when he spotted her. He was dangling his legs over the ledge, pistol at his hip, sheriff's hat tipped forward on his head. Lizzie thought it was dorky - but cute, at the same time. It was something she used to tease him, and while he claimed to hate it... His smile when she called him a cowboy, or knocked it off his head, spoke louder than his voice.

"Hey yourself," Lizzie replied, flashing him a grin before settling in beside him. It was getting colder, and she was glad that she wore a heavy sweater over her pajamas. She twisted lock of her honey-blonde hair around her finger, taking in the sky overhead. When she was little, her mother had told her that the stars were holes and the light they revealed was heaven. She knew better now - gasses exploding years in the past, the stars they saw now weren't even really there - but she chose to believe her mother anyway. Who said that a few of them weren't peepholes into heaven?

Lizzie chose to believe because she liked to think their loved ones were trying to watch them, trying to watch over them the best they could. Those that had fallen weren't that far, if they could spy down on them... Another of her strange comforts. She'd talked to Carl about them, but only here in the darkness with his arm looped over her shoulders and her face in his neck. It was the only place she felt safe enough to spout out her silly little superstitions. Carl might have called her dumb or stupid sometimes, but never in those moments. Never when it mattered.

"How was it?" Lizzie asked. She reached for his hand at the same moment he was reaching for her's. She swallowed a smile and giggle, instead keeping her face trained neutral.

"All right," Carl said, sighing. "They're grouping up in bunches on the fence... Like they know all together they can bust it down." He shook his head, shaggy brown falling into his hazel eyes. Without hesitation, Lizzie reached up and pushed it out of his eyes. It had taken a long time for them to get to this level of their friendship, or whatever it was. It wasn't that they were boyfriend-girlfriend, by Before standards. Carl wasn't going to call her on the phone, or text her good-morning or wait at her locker before classes started to carry her books. It wasn't like that anymore, those things just didn't exist anymore. But they belonged to each other, like a left and right shoe. Together, they were whole.

Lizzie shivered, and let Carl tuck her into his side. Let him think it was the cold, instead of fear, that made her shake. He was strong, so strong. Like his father, in that way. Rick might have messed around with being a farmer, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he had been through much more. Had gotten them to the prison, his original group and then the Woodbury group. Lizzie was thankful for that. Not just for the safety it provided, but for the life it gave her. For Carl.

"Do you think they'll get in?" Lizzie asked. She gazed at him, taking in the smattering of faded freckles on his nose and cheeks. His hazel eyes, sometimes more blue and dark than green, fanned by dark eyelashes that were long. Boys always got good eyelashes - it wasn't fair, Lizzie thought. Wasted on boys... Carl was looking at her too, studying her features just as intently, and Lizzie felt the hot blush stain her cheeks. She didn't know if she would ever get used to the way he looked at her sometimes. Like she was more than just a girl, more than just something on the cusp of womanhood but still too young to know all the mysteries of the world. Of them.

She knew that when they were big enough, when it was right, she and Carl would be together. Like Daryl and Beth were, and Maggie and Glenn - they would do all of those dark, soft things that couples did with lips and fingers, those things reserved for X-rated movies and romance novels. Lizzie didn't know much, but she figured they would learn together... Imagining anyone else touching and kissing her made her stomach clench with dread, anxiety. It wasn't what she wanted.

"No," Carl said, shaking his head slowly. His eyes were on her lips, and Lizzie licked them unconciously. Before she could breathe another word, he was kissing her. It was funny, how quickly he moved sometimes - like he thought she would startle. Didn't he realize that she spent the majority of her day thinking about him? Thinking about doing this? She loved the feel of his lips on her's, the soft skin touching and meshing and molding together. Lizzie remembered laughing until her belly hurt, the first time they did that.

Neither laughed anymore.

They did this every day, finding time alone together. They would speak - sometimes a lot, sometimes just hello - before they were kissing. That was all they did, and it was enough for Lizzie. Carl's fingers tangling in her hair, anchoring them together while lips and tongues met and comforted and loved. It was like they were two puzzle pieces being brought together every day, fitting together perfectly. Like they were made to fit each other. Sighing into his lips, Lizzie let her mind be swept away with sensation.

Carl used to think she looked weird and dumb in her too-big pajamas but now, he knew that she was scrawny and coltish and skinny and cold. She was wrapped in layers upon layers, the last an ugly old Bill Cosby sweater that someone had brought back. When her eyes landed on the obnoxiously bright, loud pattern, they had lit up. No one objected to her having it. It hung to her knees and the sleeves were rolled up, yet still fell over her knuckles. Carl thought she looked cozy and adorable now, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and hold her as closely as he could.

A lot of things about Lizzie used to be weird and dumb. Now, they were funny quirks that were completely unique to her. The eye-rolls, the wild imagination, the chattering... It was all just Lizzie Samuels, and he loved it all. He loved her dark, wide eyes, the ones that saw so much more than anyone realized. When she had pointed out that his father and Michonne were spending a lot of time together, alone, Carl's first instinct was disbelief. But it was similar to the Daryl and Beth situation - and now he was smart enough to trust her intuition. As awkward as that made things...

He knew that she was nervous, scared about the walkers. Carl didn't know what to do about that - she was supposed to be afraid, they were terrifying. Lizzie hadn't had to deal with that much, being kept in Woodbury like a princess. No one expected her to do anything like Carl, even though they were the same age... Girls weren't meant to be stone-cold killers, especially not when they weren't even grown yet. But it still made Carl scared, thinking of how vulnerable she was. Not much scared him anymore, and his nightmares weren't filled with images of his mother anymore. They were focused instead on the prison being run through by the walkers, killing and eating those close to his heart. Judith, his father, Beth, Daryl - and most of all, Lizzie. She and Judith were the two who needed the most protection out of that group.

Carl wanted to bring it up, training - getting her into a fighter's shape. It would keep him sharp, making sure that she was ready to fight if she had to. But before he could, he found himself kissing her. She tasted sweet and warm, and he felt his heart and stomach clenching simultaneously as he kissed her. Bravely, Lizzie pushed him back, then bit her lip and crawled into his lap. His mind when blank as her legs flanked him, and she faced him with their hips pressed flush together.

Carl's cheeks were hot and he was thankful for the dark that engulfed them. Didn't want her to see him unsure, even though he had as much experience as she did. Lizzie expected him to be calm, collected, confident - just like the rest of them. Maybe they didn't expect it, but that's what they were used to coming from him. It was pressure, but kind of in a good way - kept Carl from sinking into the surly, sullen place he'd been for a while... Before Lizzie.

"What're you doing?" he asked, and his voice sounded deeper, husky to his own ears. Lizzie ducked her head against his shoulder, and he felt the heat radiating from her cheeks as she hid from him. He smiled - she was just as lost at all of this as him. Tentatively, Carl cupped her shoulders, then slid his hands to her back. Touching her like this was... Different. Intimate. He kept his hands in respectful zones, safe zones. They were young, but not so young that they couldn't...

"I just wanted to be closer," Lizzie whispered into his ear. He smiled, lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes. All he could see was trust, and love, and then they were kissing again. She had his T-shirt fisted in her small hands, and her lips were firm under his. The tongue that had been so shy before was now plunging into his mouth, seeking and taking, and Carl was happy to oblige her.

Until he heard a muttered curse, followed by, "Carl!"

The two broke apart, jumping in surprise. Lizzie squeaked as she lost balance, nearly tumbling over the edge, but Carl grabbed her by the sweater and yanked quickly. She was flush against him again, before they could carefully disengage and seperate. Rick was standing on their secret ledge, the one that no one else knew existed... Hands on his hips, looking every inch the cop that he had been in their former life. It was a look that Carl knew well, welcomed - it was his 'in-charge' look. Much better than his farmer Rick, lost and confused, not trusting himself... That madness that scared Carl and angered him, at the same time.

"What in the hell do you two think you're doing up here?" Rick asked. He stalked forwards, hauled Carl up by his collar. The brown sheriff hat knocked off his head, and Carl's messy dark-chocolate hair shone in the moonlight. Lizzie bent and picked it up, clutching it nervously to her small chest. Rick would have laughed, had someone told him a few months ago that he would be busting his son making out with a girl... It was so goddamn normal, a rite of passage, that it should have made him happy.

In a way, it did. But at the same time, the last thing they needed was two horny kids sneaking away and getting themselves into grown-up trouble.

"We were just talking -" Lizzie started.

"Didn't look like talkin' to me," Rick said, glaring ferociously at the pair. It would do good to scare some sense into them. Carl jerked out of his dad's grasp, standing in front of Lizzie to shielf her from the brunt of his father's anger. He didn't want her to get into trouble. Carl was big enough to take it all.

"We were just kissing..." Lizzie muttered, making his father's eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline. God, Carl had wished this moment wouldn't ever come, though he wasn't naive enough to believe it wouldn't. He knew they would be found out eventually... Knew that Beth definitely had her suspicions, but the blonde was never one for confrontations. She wasn't going to say nothin'.

"Kissing?" Rick asked, as though he really needed the clarification. He repeated the word, disbelieving. Shaking his head, Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling an oncoming headache. "I want you both to go back to your rooms. I'll be down to talk to you," he added, pointing at his son, "in a bit."

Carl nodded, tonguing his dry lips, before dragging Lizzie behind him and back to the cell-block. On the way, she caught his hand, gave it a squeeze.

"He can't keep us apart," Carl said, reassuring. Lizzie blushed and smiled, ducking her face.

"I know," she whispered. He kissed her when they reached her cell, then nodded at her sleeping little sister.

"Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning." She nodded and stumbled into her room, already peeling off the big ugly sweater. God, the girl really had a bad taste in clothing - from that stupid dirty vest to the sweater. Shaking his head with a small smile, Carl went to his room and waited for his father and the long talk that he was sure to bring. It didn't matter - tomorrow, Carl would be on the look-out for another place that he and Lizzie could share that would be just their's.

No matter what - his father's angers, the walking dead. It didn't matter. Lizzie was his girl, his responsibility, and he coveted her company. He was possessive with his thoughts of her, protective in his actions. He meant what he said - nothing would keep them apart. With a sigh, he leaned back in his bunk and waited patiently for the unpleasant lecture that was coming. As the moon glowed overhead, he thought of Lizzie and her lips and the fire she lit inside of him. As long as he had that to look forward to, he could deal with anything.

Let me know what you thought :] thank you, loves!