A/N – So this is just an idea I have… I don't know really how far I'm going to go with it, but I figure I'll see where I end up. I rated it T for now although I'm still so confused with ratings. If you can explain it to me, please do. If I decide to get more graphic with the sex stuff, I'll probably up it to an M rating. Are occasional swears (F word) allowed in T ratings? I'm not sure, so turn back now if you don't want to read them.

For the purposes of this story, this takes place sometime after '18 Miles Out'. Rick and Shane were successful in their mission to just leave Randall somewhere. Maybe they still fought, maybe they didn't. Maybe Randall died, maybe he didn't. We don't know. What we do know is the two of them came back without Randall, Dale is still alive, and so is Shane.

Disclaimers – I don't own The Walking Dead or its characters. I may create some characters of my own, but I might not.

Alcohol was a dangerous thing. Carol had never been much of a drinker. But when T-Dog had come back to the farm from a run with a case of beer and three bottles of bourbon… well everyone sat around the campfire to drink and have a good time. It was a sight. T-Dog and Andrea shared a log, leaning on each other, laughing and doing shots of the bourbon. Lori and Rick were even drinking, holding hands as they watched Carl – who obviously was not allowed to sample the libations – roasted marshmallows.

Even Hershel and Patricia had come out from the farmhouse to join the others. Hershel wasn't drinking though, merely taking it all in. Carol thought it was sweet the way Patricia leaned her head on his shoulder. Glenn and Maggie were drinking beers, heads bent together like young lovers. Beth and Jimmy were even allowed a beer each, and they were slow-dancing together in the moonlight – despite the lack of music.

Shane had taken a whole bottle of bourbon to himself. He was trying to join in with the others, but he still seemed awkward. Andrea tried to include him as much as she could, but he seemed to be even keeping her at arm's length these days. Carol felt bad for him a little. She didn't know what went on between him and Rick that day they'd driven Randall away and left the boy to fend for himself eighteen miles out of town, but Shane hadn't been quite the same since. Carol remembered how nice he'd been to her the day Sophia was buried, helping clean her up after she'd annihilated a whole bush of Cherokee Roses.

Carol sat next to Dale. The older man was nursing a beer and it seemed like he had been for the last hour. He clearly wasn't much of a drinker. She knew the feeling... the shot of bourbon had burned on its way down and she'd struggled to keep it there. She was light-headed almost instantly, but still took the beer that Rick offered.

She glanced over at Daryl, leaning against a tree not far from the campfire. He's always on the outskirts, never allowing himself entirely into the circle of the group. He seemed to be ignoring them all, staring distantly into the flames, but she'd be willing to bet that he was the most observant of all of them and that if someone had asked; he could describe the whole scene with his eyes closed.

They all stayed like that for a few hours… enjoying the respite from the terrible world in which they lived. And then slowly, they all began to amble off to their separate corners of the farm. T-Dog and Andrea went off first, which was probably best because the two of them were eyeing each other something fierce. 'Fuck me' eyes, Carol thought. She was definitely feeling light-headed. She stayed on her log watching the blaze flicker while the others dispersed.

She didn't notice that everyone else had gone until Daryl sat down next to her. "Ya sleepin' out 'ere tonight?," he asked in his low, rough growl.

She peered sideways at him. "I'm waiting for the world to stop spinning." And then she laughed because the thought of that was ridiculous, hilarious, and didn't sound at all how she'd meant it.

Daryl looked at the woman laughing beside him. He took a draw from his beer and chuckled inwardly. "Yer drunk."

"Well thank you, Captain Obvious," Carol said. She put her empty beer bottle down and stretched her hands above her head, making her body long and lean, and then nearly lost her balance. She would have crashed back onto the ground behind her if not for Daryl moving to stabilize her with one hand on the back of her neck, his fingers brushing into her close-cropped hair, his other hand gripping her by the arm.

Carol really saw Daryl right then… maybe for the first time. He was leaning over her, keeping her steady, the backlight of the flames against his back. This man was sexy, dirty and a bit rough. He smelled good, like woods and water and dirt.

"Ya a'right?," his voice was gruff. She nodded, and he removed his hands, pulling back, sitting back down. She watched him put the bottle to his lips and tip his head back.

"We should have sex." Daryl choked on the beer, coughed, hacked, and Carol patted him on the back.

"We should wha' now?," he said when his breathing was under control. Her hand was still on his back, lingering there. His eyes were narrowed at her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "You heard me. You might be socially adverse, Daryl Dixon, but you certainly aren't deaf."

"Why in the world should we have sex?," he looked away from her, into the rapidly dying fire.

Carol shrugged, "Why not? It's the end of the world. What else do we have to do? Everyone else is doing it. Why not us?"

"Yer drunk."

Carol sighed, "we've already established that. My being drunk doesn't matter."

"S-ure it do," Daryl drawled softly, "Ya ain't thinkin' straight."

"How exactly does one think straight?"

"Wha'?"

"Think straight. As if we could think zig-zagged or something. It's a stupid phrase. And besides, my thinking is just fine. And I think we should have sex."

"Bad idea."

"It is not. It's a great idea. It doesn't have to be a big thing. I have needs. Hell, I haven't had a vibrator for months. I'm on edge, Daryl Dixon. I'm a woman on the edge." She paused and when he said nothing, she said softly, "You must have needs too."

Daryl looked at her. "What 'xactly is ya proposin'?" Carol glanced away, and then looked back at him a sly look in her eye, her lower lip popped out just a little as she bit the corner of her mouth. Daryl didn't know if the woman knew she was sexy when she did it, or if it was just another one of those unconscious things she did to drive him fucking crazy.

"I'm proposing that we have sex. I thought I made that part clear already? Just sex. Me and you. I'm just proposing one night of pure, hot, passionate… animalistic… sex. Where we don't think about what we've lost, or each other's feelings… where we just don't think. I'm so damn tired of thinking. Just sex. Between friends. We're friends, right? Kind of? Maybe?" Daryl grunted. Carol rolled her eyes again, and spun quickly, so fast that before Daryl could jump she was crouched on the ground in front of him, her body wedged in front of the fire and between his bent legs.

"Come on, Daryl. I'm not asking you to make love to me. I'm not asking for anything but what I'm asking for… one night. Hot, crazy, ridiculously naked sex. I'm just asking you to fuck me. Just for tonight." Her mouth was pouting at him again, and those blue eyes were sparkling at him, and Daryl knew this was a bad, fucking idea.

"Jus' sex… no feelin's," he echoed at her.

She whispered, her voice low and thick, "Just sex, Daryl. No feelings."

His hand grasped her arm and pulled her body into his. Their faces were so close, their eyes locked together. "Ya bett'r mean it…," his voice was so low, the words nearly nonexistent, but she still heard him.

"Just kiss me, Daryl. This isn't the time for talking." So he did as she asked, brought his face forward into hers, their lips connected and he felt pleasure ripple through his body. She opened her mouth slightly in response, slid her tongue into his mouth to greet his own, and then there was no going back.