A/N - This was from a prompt I got from jeeno2 on tumblr that got a little out of control. Just some silly fluff and nonsense to help us Carol fans through the stuff and nonsense that's going on in the TWD fandom right now. Enjoy, and please leave a review!

It had been four weeks since Carol had threatened to hose Daryl down in his sleep if he didn't take a shower of his own accord. Four weeks since he had taken her threat seriously. Four weeks since she had unwittingly walked in on him as he dried himself off. Four weeks since they had frozen like deer caught in headlights under each other's gaze. And four weeks since he had barely had the time to register the undisguised hunger in her eyes, before she had crushed her lips against his in a desperate and passionate kiss.

As she had maneuvered them both towards her bedroom, he offered a silent word of thanks that she hadn't decided to wait on him to be the one to initiate anything; they'd have been waiting forever if that was the case. And afterwards, as they basked in the afterglow of their love, they had fallen asleep in each other's arms and finally woken up feeling more rested than they had in months, maybe even years.

In the morning Daryl had run his fingers through her messed-up curls and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then had quickly dressed and left her alone before anyone else realized that they had spent the night together.

And so they had quickly settled into a routine; each night he would come to her. They found comfort in each other's arms, in their kisses, in their whispered caresses. Then each morning, he would leave before anyone discovered them.

"Why do you have to go?" she had asked him one morning.

Truth was, he didn't want to leave. After wanting to be able to call her his woman for so long, he desired nothing more than to be able to spend days at a time in her arms. But the thought of catching the knowing smirks on their friends' faces, of seeing them gawking and whispering behind their hands... "We aint some sideshow," he had replied. "Don't need no folks talkin.'"

Four weeks of blissful comfort, tempered somewhat by his need for privacy, but perfect nonetheless.

He sat on the front porch of the house he shared with Carol, Rick, Carl, and Michonne, smoking a cigarette and listening to the cicadas playing their endless symphonies. Most people had already gone to bed; the only visible lights in the town came from the glowing red cherry of his smoke, as well as the room Michonne occupied at the front of the house. He waited patiently for the light to go out before he ground the cigarette out under the heel of his boot, and pushed open the front door.

These houses were like mansions. The tiny shack he had grown up in could quite easily fit into just one of the rooms, with plenty of space to spare. He had hated it so much when he first saw how these rich assholes had lived their lives, but now, with the amount of space it put between them and the others, he could not be more grateful. Carol slept in a bedroom on the ground floor towards the back of the house and he silently made his way there. When he pushed the door open, he was met by a dazzling sight.

Carol was stood by the bed, turning it down, and wearing nothing but one of his shirts and a pair of lilac cotton panties. His eyes were immediately drawn to the tops of her slender legs, to where the curve of her ass was just hidden underneath the hem of his shirt. His stomach tightened in anticipation, and he felt his cock twitch in his pants at the sight. She looked back over her shoulder towards him, a sheepish half-smile on her face. "Hey," she said, before she turned back, fluffing the pillows.

"You plannin' on goin' out like that?" he asked as he stepped inside her room and closed the door behind him.

"Just thought I'd make an effort, that's all."

"What's the occasion?"

"Happy four week anniversary," she said.

"Is that even a thing?"

"Maybe not traditionally," she conceded. "But then, what about us is traditional, right? Sit down, and close your eyes, I've got a surprise for you."

"I aint big on surprises," he said, but he still allowed her to guide him to the edge of the bed.

"You'll like this one. Close your eyes."

He did as she instructed, and moments later felt her weight settle behind him, as she wrapped her arms across his chest.

"Open them," she said.

It took him a moment to focus on the green glass bottle with the foil-wrapped lid that she held in front of him. "Champagne? Where'd ya get this?" he asked, taking the bottle from her.

"The last run Heath came back from. There were all sorts of goodies in that van, and I was helping unload it. I saw this before Olivia had a chance to mark it on her inventory, and I managed to sneak it away. Figured two people could have far more fun with it than an entire town."

"Ya aint wrong there," he said, as he peeled the foil away and pulled the cork out with a satisfying pop, then took a swig straight from the bottle.

"We've got glasses," she said, laughing with exasperation.

"Naw, tastes better this way," he replied, taking another enormous swig. "Ya know, rich pricks used to drink this stuff like it was water. Think I can see why."

"Well, don't hog it," she said, snatching the bottle from his grasp. She drank deeply, spluttering a little, before she passed it back.

"Can't handle your drink, huh?" he chuckled, as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him pressing his mouth against hers. She tasted of champagne and of the sweetness of chocolate and vanilla. A contented sigh escaped his lips as her tongue gently probed his own and her hand clumsily came to rest over his stomach.

"That sounds like you're challenging me," she said, and she swiped the bottle back before he could protest. "And I'm not backing down from a challenge."

After several large glugs, she began to giggle to herself, desperately trying to stifle the sound behind her hand.

His head swam pleasantly as she passed the bottle back to him and he downed the remainder. "We got any more?" he asked.

"Four more bottles."

"Get another one open, then."

She grinned sheepishly, and opened her wardrobe, bending down to pick up one of the stashed bottles. His body immediately responded to the sight of her barely-covered ass, and he groaned appreciatively at what he saw.

"Are you checking me out?" she asked.

"I got eyes, aint I? Have to be damn blind not to check that out."

A pink flush crept over her cheeks, and she looked more beautiful than ever. She returned to the bed with a bottle and straddled his lap. While she pulled the foil lid away from the top and then untwisted the wire cage, he ran his hands along her thighs. "So, you're stealin' clothes as well as drinks, too?" he asked her in a low voice, as he pushed the hem of his appropriated shirt up very slightly, giving him a flash of the smooth, pale skin underneath.

"I was doing laundry, and thought it looked comfortable. And I was right," she said as she ground her hips against him, her actions completely at odds with the everyday nature of her conversation.

"Looks good on ya," he replied, gently matching her movements with small thrusts of his own.

"Thank you," she answered, as she struggled with the cork.

"Ya need a hand with that?"

"No," she said, and she finally pulled the cork from the bottle with an echoing pop; a split second later the Champagne fizzed out of the bottle, splashing all over his stomach.

"Dammit, I'm so sorry," she said.

"Ya wanted me outta my clothes, ya coulda just asked," he said.

She took a couple of swigs from the new bottle before she handed it to him. "Here," she said, and her voice was already a little slurred. "I'll do it."

She fumbled with the buttons as he continued to drink, watching her intently the whole time, then he helped her slip the soaking garment off and tossed it to the floor. After raking her fingers over his chest and stomach, she started to divest herself of his stolen shirt.

"Keep it on," he said in a low voice, once she had undone all the buttons. "I like it."

She offered him a sultry smile and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his neck, then snatched the bottle from his hands.

"Can't remember the last time I had Champagne," she said. "But I bet it wasn't as good as this. Good company improves it, you know."

"Good to know," he said as she passed the drink back to him.

In no time at all the second bottle had been decimated, and Carol was drunkenly stumbling back to the wardrobe. As she bent down to pick up another bottle, she purposefully wiggled her ass at him, causing his heart to race. She climbed back into his lap, and handed him the Champagne to open while she curled into him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"You sure you want this?" he asked her.

She nodded. "'m sure," she slurred.

He opened the bottle and she immediately snatched it from him and took a huge glug, and then placed the bottle down on the bedside table. There was a look of insatiable lust in her eyes, and she clasped her lips over the pulse point just behind his ear. Her tongue darted out over the skin, and desire pooled deep in his abdomen. Her drunken kisses were wet and a little sloppy, and he could feel the wide grin behind each one.

"I want you," she whispered in his ear, before drawing his lobe into her mouth and sucking on the sensitive flesh. "Right now."

Very clumsily she crawled off of his lap and pulled down her panties, kicking them across the room, then lay down on the bed. "Hurry up," she said, as she looked over her shoulder towards him. "Clothes off."

He didn't need asking twice. As he kicked off his boots and unbuckled his belt, the thought crossed his mind that he had no idea what he had done to deserve such a woman. Shit, if all it had taken to be with her sooner was to take a hot shower, he'd have moved mountains to find a place with running water.

Once naked he lay down behind her, curling himself around her body,. "Ya wanted me, so now ya got me," he purred in her ear.

There was no response. He gave her the gentlest of squeezes. "Carol?" he prompted, lifting himself up onto his elbow.

She had fallen asleep. Everything about her was a picture of peace, and a flicker of a half-smile crossed his face. He couldn't even be vaguely annoyed at her for getting him so worked up for nothing. He placed a soft and tender kiss to the back of her head, and she stirred very slightly but didn't wake.

The half-finished Champagne that had been abandoned on the bedside table caught his eye. Seemed a shame to waste it…

His eyes were heavy and his mouth was parched. A crack of sunlight penetrated through the curtains, the dazzling sight of it piercing his skull like a knife.

"Ah, fuck..." he muttered, turning away from the light and nuzzling into the crook of Carol's neck. His limbs felt like lead weights as he draped an arm across her stomach and pulled her a little closer to him.

She groaned very slightly, clawing her way out of the alcohol-induced deep sleep. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Don't give a shit," he replied. "Whatever it is, is too early."

"Agreed," she said, as she wrapped her arms around him.

He barely opened his eyes at the sound of someone knocking at the front door. Someone else would answer it. And if not… too bad. Whoever was there could fuck off.

The knocking grew louder and more urgent, and was answered a few moments later by Michonne.

"Aaron," they heard her say. "You ok?"

Daryl froze, and his mouth went, if possible, even drier.

"Yeah, and I'm really sorry to bother you," he said. "Is Daryl here? We were supposed to be going out scouting, and we'd arranged to leave at dawn."

"And you've not seen him?" she asked.

"No. Is he the type to have gone off on his own? I mean, I thought all the arrangements were pretty much sorted for today, and…"

"Rick?" shouted Michonne. "Can you check on Daryl?"

A few seconds later they could hear Rick's reply coming from upstairs, that Daryl was not in his room.

"Move," whispered Carol, and her words kickstarted him into action, in spite of his dry mouth and pounding head. He quickly grabbed his boxers from the floor and hurriedly pulled them on, just as there was a knock on Carol's bedroom door.

"Carol?" asked Michonne.

"Just a second," Carol replied, as she quickly tore off Daryl's shirt and pulled on a pair of pants and a vest top. She directed Daryl to hide behind the door, just out of sight, as she opened the door to Michonne with a friendly smile.

"You seen Daryl?" asked Michonne. "Only he's missing."

"Missing?" asked Carol, feigning concern. "Are you sure he's not just… maybe working on his bike, or something?"

"I guess he could be," said Michonne suspiciously, and Daryl noticed the remains of his discarded clothes on the floor behind Carol. There was no way that Michonne could miss them. He felt a hot flush creep across his skin. He was desperate for water and an aspirin, and the vague hangover was made infinitely worse by the painfully obvious situation.

"I'll be sure to point him in your direction if I see him," smiled Carol.

"Sure," said Michonne, and it was clear that she was smirking. "But it's not me looking for him. Daryl," she said, raising her voice very slightly. "When you're dressed, Aaron's waiting by the gate for you, ok?"

There was a long pause, during which it became clear that Michonne wasn't leaving until she received an answer. "Right," he said, praying that the ground would open up underneath him.

Carol continued to smile pleasantly as Michonne left them alone, and then when she closed the door she burst out laughing. "They were going to find out sooner or later," she said as she gently placed her arms around his waist.

"Yeah, and I was hopin' for later, and on my own terms."

"You're not embarrassed of me, are you?"

"Naw," he said. "S'just this place… and me… thought you'd be the one embarrassed."

"Oh, Pookie… I'd never be embarassed of you," she said as she reached up to cup his face in her hands, then she pulled him into a slow and tender kiss. "You'd better get ready. And when you get back, we can celebrate our five week anniversary with the rest of that champagne."

"Pfft," he snorted. "You gonna stay awake this time?"

"You have my word."

"Gonna hold you to that," he said, as he quickly gathered up his clothes.

Once he was dressed he took a deep breath and stood before Carol's bedroom door, not really willing to face the onslaught of knowing looks that were bound to come his way.

"You want me to go first?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer she entwined her fingers through his and opened the door, leading them both outside. Michonne was sat on the sofa reading a book, an intensely smug look on her face. After grabbing a glass of water and some painkillers from the kitchen, they headed outside, to where Rick and Carl on the porch grinning mercilessly. As they walked past, Rick wolf-whistled the pair of them. Without missing a beat, Daryl turned around and flipped him off, while Carol laughed at his reaction.

"It's ok for you," she said, as Daryl got on his bike. "You get to get away for a while."

"Gonna miss you while I'm out," he said.

"You too," she said, and she leaned in towards him for one last kiss. "You stay safe out there, ok?"

"I will," he answered with a half-smile. "Nine lives, remember?"