Hey friends!

Another Caryl oneshot to tie me over till' Season 3. I'm getting anxious. Anyone else?

This fic is inspired by and dedicated to 'not-on-any-flatbread' from Tumblr and the wonderful piece of fanart they posted!

As usual, I do not own TWD or Daryl and Carol or any of the other characters. I'm just playing around and trying not to die of anxiety.

Hope you enjoy this little thing!

It just wasn't in him to push her away. It may have been once…but not anymore.

The nights were getting colder, to the disdain of the women and the expectance of the men. Daryl knew how the seasons worked in the southeast: It got hot. It got hotter. It became hell. And then it got cold. And then it got colder. And then it got hot again. There was no in between, no "comfortable temperature", no "Fall" or "Spring". It sucked one way or it sucked the other.

They all knew it.

And so they began setting camp up early every day, just as the sun started hitting the tree lines, getting the fire started and sleeping closer to it (and each other) than usual.

This night was no different than the others, with Glenn stepping up to claim first watch and Rick grumbling at the lot of them to huddle up and get warm quickly. Daryl nodded his way as Rick passed him by, the other man looking exhausted and strained. It wasn't his business, but Daryl could tell the man's wife and son were not making the whole 'leadership' thing any easier on him. Lori continued to avoid speaking to him, instead giving wary glances and the occasional forced smile, and Carl often shrugged Rick off altogether…it had been so ever since he'd admitted to killing Shane.

Seemed to Daryl they oughta be thankful. Shane had a good mindset when it came to surviving but was obviously losing his shit…

But it wasn't his business. Rick's family issues weren't his business. They're overall safety was all that concerned him.

Winter was setting in hard, and early. They'd been moving, trying to find a decent place to hold up. They avoided the highways unless they needed supplies, and Daryl was often placed in the position of leading the group through the woods that seemed more and more endless with every passing day.

They were all tired; he was tired.

He thanked Glenn in his head for taking first watch; the fire was warm and his eyes were heavy.

He was settling in, just a few feet from the flames, curling onto his side and bunching the old jacket under his head. He faced the fire despite the brightness…he couldn't care less if it was night or day. Around him the rest of the group grew quiet, and Daryl glanced around to note everyone's whereabouts: Rick and his family huddled on the opposite side of the fire, Lori and Carl facing away from him and the tense air surrounding the three as usual. Glenn stood several feet away from them, rifle and binoculars in hand. Daryl saw him glance towards his right, where Maggie, Hershel and Beth sat unable to yet find sleep.

T-Dog was sprawled on his back on the other side, near the fire as well, a light snore already piercing the silence.

Daryl pushed himself up onto his elbow and turned to look behind him. Carol was still folding what few extra clothes the group had, sitting in the dirt just at the edge of the darkness. As he watched she paused to meet his gaze. He saw her smile slightly, and motion to the few bundled shirts in her lap. Pursing his lips he considered growling at her to come closer to the fire and go to sleep; her distance away from the rest of them was making him nervous.

But he saw her hands work faster to finish her work, and knew his silent message had been heard. Lying back down, his head hit the jacket and his eyes clamped shut with renewed exhaustion.

He was out before he knew she'd already finished and was heading towards him.

It was the recognition of fingers that woke him.

He jerked slightly when a small hand began snaking its way across his back, lazy and slow. Every muscle went rigid and he almost sat up to grab the bow that lay just beside him.

But the quiet sigh that followed the movement stilled the desperate panic in his body and Daryl knew it was Carol that was curling up behind his back, practically spooning him with her smaller form.

He blinked several times, looking into the still-flickering fire and coming to conclusion quickly that he was in fact awake and not dreaming. He wet his dry lips and held still as the hand moved again.

It wasn't unusual for Carol to sleep near him, but for her to actually curl up against him…

Lifting his arm and moving it back just a bit, he raised his fingers to feel the air. Away from the warmth of the fire, the night air had gone frigid. It hit his hand and seeped in like a Walker chomping down on living flesh.

He grunted and relaxed, suddenly aware of why the woman had come seeking another body to cuddle. As he lowered his arm her own came sneaking underneath it, freezing fingers landing against his chest and he felt her shiver.

She said nothing, only breathed deep and bent her knees a little. He twitched when they nudged his backside slightly.

Daryl stared at the fire as Carol settled behind him, and despite the pounding of his heart in his ears he could not even consider the idea of shooing her away. He wasn't much for touching. She knew that. Everyone knew that. He didn't touch and he'd honestly prefer not to talk, either. If he could get away with nodding and glaring to make all of his points, he would.

But things were different now than they were before Rick came along…before Merle disappeared and Shane started losing his damn mind….

He was different. He didn't know if he liked it or not, but he knew it'd happened. He spoke his mind more, tolerated touch more. He led these people when they needed him and followed Rick's lead the rest of the time. And he didn't mind either anymore.

He also didn't mind the feel of Carol's arm pulling him against her body, the occasional twitch of her warming fingers against his shirt as she dozed. He didn't mind the heat of her breath on the back of his neck. He didn't mind the smile the still-awake Hershel shot his way from across the dying flames.

Relaxing enough to close his eyes again, Daryl reached for the nearby crossbow and pulled it closer to them.

He listened to the soft breathing behind him, felt the warmth of her body against his.

He wasn't sure if he liked all of the changes he'd undergone since Rick had come along and Merle had vanished…

But he certainly didn't mind them.