Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Prompted by onedayyoujustchange: "Carol climbing Daryl like a tree." * Set a few years after season five after Daryl and Aaron get back from a routine run.

Warnings: *Contains: established relationship, adult language, adult content, drunken shenanigans, fluff, copious amounts of alcohol, questionable underwear decisions, very very mild sexual content and inappropriate wood metaphors.

Tree-hugger (or some other euphemism for wood)

"What's gotten into her?" he rasped, looking down – tired and warmly nonplussed – at the feathering of silver-grey hair mashed firmly into his side. Clinging to him like a fuckin' limpet as she petted distractedly across his chest. Muttering under her breath as clumsy fingers found the new nicks and scores in his leather vest.

"I think it was the tequila," Eric sing-songed, looking sweetly pleased with himself as he unwound himself from Aaron's arms and reached over to pat his shoulder consolingly. Or at least tried too. If he hadn't flinched back the red-head would have probably poked him right in the eye.

He arched a brow as Aaron asked a quiet question. Using the lull to look back down. Letting a careful hand curl around her shoulders, gently bringing her head up as she blinked, doe-wide and deceptively innocent. Staring up at him with a wickedly slow, honeycomb-smile. Plastered to him like glue. Breath warm and sweet, tempered with the tang of lime-salt and just the hint of-

Well, that certainly explains why they didn't meet them at the gate.

Aaron just looked at him, a barely audible whine leaving his throat as he turned a neat circle in the middle of the living room, sighing hugely. Looking between the three of them with a patented glare Eric had long ago dubbed: "disappointed-suburban-dad-mode" as the red-head muffled a laugh into the curl of his boyfriend's shoulder.

"Your girlfriend got my boyfriend drunk," the man stated, mildly accusing like this was the worst kind of betrayal and he just hadn't seen it coming. Like this was all his fault and that really- his life needed to come with a warning label.

He just glared, trying not to feel hugely smug about it when she hitched herself up and forced him to support her weight. Throwing her arms around his neck as she wrapped her legs around his chest and let him do the rest. Caught in the act of climbing him like a god damned tree as his hands curled around her ass instinctively – keepin' her anchored.

Uh-

Words?

He was probably supposed to be saying them – or anything really.

"How many," Aaron asked, resigned now as Eric wavered in place. Bracing himself against the back of the couch like the whole world had gone liquid.

"Um. Five?"

Aaron just eyeballed the two empty bottles before fixing the red-head with a look. Something that looked a whole lot like: 'we are going to share our feelings about this later using our words because you are in so much trouble but I still love you' kind of thing.

He ignored them, arms tightening a fraction as Carol mumbled blurrily into the press of him. It could have been his name. Probably not. But he liked to think so. Either way, the feeling of her against him was enough. It had always been, even when they weren't-

"Maybe twenty-five," Eric amended seriously, eyes dancing gleefully as Carol groaned and burrowed herself further into his chest.

Okay, now he was just impressed.

"I lost count," Eric admitted, earnest despite the laughter clear in his tone as he leaned in conspiratorially. "She is very very good."

"We owe her two hundred and forty dollars, by the way. I told her I left my cheque book in the flat in Washington, but she knows we're good for it," he added, smacking a kiss on his boyfriend's cheek as Aaron shook his head. Sending him a clear 'are you hearing this bullshit right now? We were only gone three days' look that he couldn't help but return with a shrug. Hoisting Carol up a couple inches higher as she slowly went lax in his hold. Breathing deeply in that way she did, just before she fell asleep.

Fuckin' perfect.

He had a sneaking suspicion they were only getting the cliff notes version of the bender. But frankly, he was more than okay with being kept in the dark this time. Just like he didn't need to know why he was suddenly ninety-nine percent sure Carol wasn't wearing any fucking underwear. Or why there was a towel caught on the ceiling fan. And especially why there was a neon purple dildo suction-cupped to the nearest window, because honestly all those things coupled together just capped out his weird shit-o-meter.

Which, of course, naturally meant that Aaron had to ask about it.

"Well, it's not like we had a banana," Eric returned like that made all the sense in the world. Honestly leaving them with more questions than answers as Aaron blinked owlishly.

And yeah, still not asking.

Or thinking.

Thinking was bad.

Ah, fuck.

"Oh god, why?" Aaron muttered, obviously more rhetorical than anything. But clearly not an opportunity Eric was going to let slip past judging by the heavy-lidded look he sent him. It was that same coy little grin he'd flashed at the dinner table all those years ago. The one only a few inches shy of shit-eating. Knowing immediately that it was either batten down the hatches or-

"That reminds me," Eric purred, obscenely-satisfied as he sprawled backwards across the couch. Long limbs stretched out with lethargic grace as Aaron crossed over to the window and started peeling the dildo – which was now wobbling interestedly into open space – off the glass. "We're going to have to move the wall unit. I think she flung her panties up there when I won at strip poker."

Nope.

"Gonna get her home," he grunted. Letting his hair swing in front of his face as he ducked his head and slid her knife out of its hostler – just in case – and jamming it into his own. Hoping to cover his expression as he hiked her up. Heading to the door like it was freedom as Aaron tossed a distracted goodnight, see you tomorrow, over his shoulder.

"Have fun!" Eric returned as he shoved his way out the door, protecting her head as the screen door swung back. Cat-calling enthusiastically between giggles as Aaron tried to shush him.

It wasn't until they were halfway down the street that he slowed and chanced a look down. Getting a sliver of her face as her arm flopped into her lap. Already sleeping soundly, blissed out drunk in a way he knew she was going regret in the morning – regardless of any alcohol related victories that generally came part and parcel with her dicking around with Eric. Literally. Unable to shake the feeling that the entire thing felt so stupidly normal that he didn't even know where to start.

"'Yer, fuckin' grounded," he muttered, unable to stop the words from coming out gruffly fond as he nuzzled them into her hair. Breathing in the clean scent of her as he cut through the neat front lawn and carried her up the porch steps. Snagging a bottle of painkillers out of the side cabinet in the kitchen as he gentled her up to their room.

He had a feeling they were both going to need it come morning.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.