Be a Man

Chapter 3

The sun was rising over the horizon when Daryl had awoken in the same holding block. He stretched and cracked every joint possible before noticing the bulge in his jeans. Seriously...? He thought angrily. If there was one thing he hated more than zombies, it was morning wood. Daryl swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, trying desperately not to remember the dream he had had last night. If you hadn't already assumed, it was about Carol.

It started out in a meadow, only lit by dim moonrays, and littered with patches of Cherokee Roses. The long grass glittered from dew and dampened his calves as he walked. At the edge of the meadow, right before the blades hit the trees, she stood. She was dressed in white, or maybe it was light grey. Daryl couldn't tell. She was standing perfectly still with her hands crossed in front of her. The gown which hung over her in lace and sheer, blew lightly in the breeze, revealing the hidden secrets behind its see-through blinds. The symmetrical curves that ran the length of either side of her body, from her shoulders to her hips to her thighs to her feet. The line down the middle of her spine, the dimples in her back, and he couldn't help but observe her buttocks. He was nearly a foot away, just about to reach out and touch her, when he woke up, which also annoyed Daryl immensely.

He walked to the door of the cell and pushed the bars to the side, exiting in to the large room of the cell block. He walked to the rail of the balcony and leaned on it, groaning and rubbing the sleepy out of his eyes. Despite the fact that he was tired, today he had a duty to fulfill, which started with the most important person, Glenn. Holder of all things protective, if you know what I mean. Daryl let his forearms rest on the rail, leaning most of his body weight on his left foot. He figured he looked like a fairy, but it didn't bother him at the time. No one was awake to see him.

Carol's eyes fluttered open, sucking her out of a dreary and dreamless sleep. She was glad she'd woken up early this morning. The dreamless sleeps always tend to be the painful sleeps. The ones where you wake up with pins and needles in both hands and feet, and your neck hurts terribly, for some reason, all day. She rolled on to her back, locking her hands behind her head, staring at the bottom of the bunk on top of her. Sometimes, she missed Lori sleeping there. On the nights Rick wouldn't sleep, she would drift in to Carol's cell and meekly ask if she could sleep there. She sort of understood why Lori was afraid to sleep alone. Carol would have been too if she was pregnant with a potentially still-born, zombie baby. If everyone carried the virus, wouldn't one think that a still-born baby would carry it, too?

She stood up and stretched her back, reaching her arms to the sky, almost as if she was determined to touch the ceiling. Her tank top inched off her hips and she let a "stretching sound" take her vocal chords over. She let her heals hit the floor again and she reached for her blanket. She wrapped it around her shoulders and sat back down on the bunk. On the floor, Carol reached for her socks, but only found one. She grabbed it and looked at it. Nowadays, everything seemed so dirty. Not only their clothes, but everything else was dirty too. She sighed.

"Shoot," she breathed, looking under the bed for her other sock. She assumed some small animal had come, and was now making a nice bed out it. She sat back and pulled on her single stocking and put on her shoes. She would have to go out and grab another pair sometime today. Athletes' Foot in the zombie apocalypse was not an option. Carol stood again, pulling the blanket tight around her upper body and left her cell to go out in to the hall.

Daryl had been thinking about Merle again. Merle and his parents and the few, asshole friends that he had growing up. His best friend was a kid named Frank Kinesko. He was short, pale, and acne covered his face in red patches. He was alright, Daryl guessed, except for the fact that Frank never cared to listen to Daryl. Especially when it came to his life. Believe it or not, Daryl Dixon is a good listener, despite whether or not he cared, he liked to listen. Anyway, Frank got hit by a car in eighth grade, and he died on impact. His ribs had broken and hit his heart, severing the arteries in one blow. Mrs. Kinesko had invited Daryl to the funeral, but he didn't go. In fact, he was kind of glad Frank was gone. One less person he had to worry about. A light giggle rippled through his train of thought, forcing him back in to reality.

"Trying out a new look I see?" Carol chuckled from behind him. Daryl felt his cheeks get hot, and stood up straight, gripping the railing in both hands in embarrassed anger.

"Whuhchu want, Carol?" Daryl rasped, much harsher than he had expected. A sour, acidic taste built up in the back of his throat, knowing that he had done something wrong. Carol leaned her back against the railing and looked straight ahead.

"Jus' wanted someone to talk to. Everyone else is asleep," She replied quietly. She adjusted her blanket on her shoulders, staring at Daryl's boots on the floor of the cell, next to the bunk. She glanced down at his feet and noticed that he was standing on a rather large piece of glass, in nothing but his socks. "You should put shoes on," Carol suggested. "You might get cut." Daryl looked down at the floor, barely acknowledging the glass wedged between his heal and the concrete floor.

"Think I'll be alright," He said, obviously with forced sincerity, which sounded more like sarcasm. Jesus Christ, she prob'ly thinks I'm the biggest asshole. Daryl thought, taking his heel and shoving the glass chunk backward.

He probably thinks I'm being too over protective. Carol thought, tightening her grip on the edges of her blanket.

They stood silently against the railing, occasionally sneaking looks at the other.

She's real good-lookin' in the morning. He stared at her perfect side profile from the crown of her head to as far down as his peripheral vision would take him. Which was about to the middle of her thigh.

His eyes are so beautiful in the sun... She watched as his ocean eyes turned almost translucent in the glittering sunlight, leaking in from the barred windows.

Daryl reached out and took Carol's hand. She kindly warmed the welcome of his palm.

Why's she so cold all the time? Carol's hands felt like winter. It sent a rush of cold water rushing through the nerves in his arm.

His hands are very warm. Daryl's palms were a good kind of warm. The dry kind. Not the kind of warm you get from hard work, or embarrassment. On impact, a pleasant shiver ran down Carol's spine.

He turned and grabbed her waist. She dropped her grey, airplane blanket, hooking her hands on the back of his neck. They hesitated, just staring longingly at each other, but afraid of potential rejection.

"Oh, to Hell with it," Carol thought aloud, and craned her neck, kissing him passionately on the mouth. Daryl kissed back thinking Damn it, man! That shoulda been you! But quickly pushing it off as Carol's tongue parted his lips. He reached up and held her face, his eyes closed and picturing more. Wanting more. Craving more of Carol Peletier. The image of her coming down on him entered his brain once again, involuntarily turning him on. His jeans became suddenly tighter and he tried to resist the rise of his erection.

Carol's heart was beating on her sternum, creating a thumping sound in her ears. She moved closer, pushing herself against Daryl. She took full notice of the tent Daryl was pitching. She blushed and something started to throb between her own legs. Carol moved her hands to Daryl's chest, taking in every fit and muscular crevice in his pecs. She continued down the length of his upper body, until she found the waist of his jeans, resting on his hips.

Is she doing what I think she is...? Daryl questioned to himself. His heartbeats were uncomfortably fast and violent and excited. It reminded him of when he used sneak in to the fair with Merle, and ride on the rickety, wooden roller-coaster they had. He was scared but excited all at the same time. He felt Carol's delicate fingers closing in on the button of his Levi's. The bulge growing ever larger with every centimeter she got closer. Carol fiddled with the button, while both of their anticipation and sexual desire bloomed rapidly in their bodies.

"Do you think you guys can do that somewhere people don't sleep and eat?" Carol peeled off of Daryl faster than either of them knew what was going on. Carl was standing in front of them, staring at a sideways angle.

"Git outta here, Carl! You don't even know what was goin' on!" Daryl yelled and someone (maybe Glenn) yelled 'shut up' back from a cell down the way.

"I'm pretty sure I have a good idea," Carl stated sarcastically, gesturing toward Daryl's crotch. Carol looked too, having to stifle a laugh. Daryl became bright red and turned around, clenching and unclenching his right fist, and leaning back on the railing with is left. Carl shook his head and continued walking, to the perch, down the stairs and to the bottom cell all the way to the right, to relieve his bladder of the pain of night.

**Hey guys! I'm super sorry this chapter took so long! I wasn't sleeping very well this week, and I normally just came home from school and fell asleep everyday. I hope you all had a happy Friday and I also hope you enjoy this chapter! And don't worry(: Carol and Daryl will get to do IT very soon!**