Chapter Text
Daryl and Carol had been stuck on their own for almost a week now. Walkers had been on their tale the entire trip back to Rick and the others. Their progress had slowed incredibly and now had taken a turn for the worse. They were exhausted from fighting and night was creeping upon then. They took shelter in the building not far from where they’d slept forty eight hours before.
Daryl secured a quadrant on the third floor. An apartment building nearing the outskirts of the city. Carol stripped a few bedrooms, pulling the cleanest looking sheets and pillows from the available beds and piling them in the living room in the apartment nearest the stairs. She raided the kitchens, finding a package of hot dogs in a working deep freezer that were only just past their prime. She packed the food into her bag and went out to look for Daryl.
The wing vest man had secured the staircase, making sure they wouldn’t be surprised by walkers during the night. They had the whole of the top floor for themselves. Including access to the roof.
It took a bit of time, but they’d managed to lug enough pieces of furniture and junk to the roof to start a fire. The flames were burning steadily for some hours after they’d consumed the hot dogs.
The pair sat in a silence only they were comfortable with. They didn’t need to speak to know what the other was feeling anymore. They worked together so well it was as though they were the same person sometimes. Carol enjoyed having that kind of company. It had taken her some time to get used to having a man around that she could trust in moments of silence.
“I have a something for you.”
Daryl reached around beside him and into the book bag he’d been carrying since they’d left the camp. He was indifferent to the silence aspect of their relationship, though he did admit that she didn’t talk when there was nothing to be said and he had liked that about her. He was impressed with her transformation. When they’d met she was a terrified, silent, defenseless lady who’d only known a life of abuse. Now she was a strong, powerful, determined woman with skills Daryl was jealous of. They had learned a lot from each other during their time together.
“Few days ago we’d come up on that little house. I’d found something I knew you’d like and I wanted you to have it.”
Daryl wasn’t one to steal from the dead, not like this. Things they needed to survive yes, but trinkets never. He’d lived by a code, and stealing mementos wasn’t part of it. She was about to protest when he made the item appear, sitting like a display in his palm.
A vibrant McIntosh apple, the red and green hues reminiscent of crayon colors that was so big it was almost awkward to hold. He passed it off to Carol.
“You said they were your favorite. Go on, take it.”
Carol, in a flummoxed state, reached out and took the apple. It was shiny and firm. She flicked it gently into the air, her fingers rolling like a wave as she caught it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an apple.
“Merry Christmas.”
Carol thought hard for a moment and tried to do the math. If the calendar year still existed, yes. It was December 25th. Daryl had thought enough about the date to hold onto the apple for two days for her, and she hadn’t gotten him anything.
Daryl had refrained from making eye contact. He knew he would be disappointed and he wanted to keep from feeling that way for as long as possible. Carol had to work to get his full attention.
“Hey.” She called to him, reaching out for his hand with her free one.
He let her take his hand, her fingers gripping onto him as she moved closer. He turned to look at her, his unwillingness to be part of the scene apparent in the most obvious way. Carol moved closer until their lips touched. It was a fraction of a second and the most innocent thing that had ever happened to him. Carol had kissed him and he had let it happen.
She smiled and took out her switchblade, cutting the apple in half and giving one side of it to Daryl. He tried to refuse it, but Carol only grabbed his hand and put half of the fruit into in. He accepted on the second attempt, shyly offering a thank you before taking a bite.
Daryl had never been one for fruits and vegetables, even as a kid. It was only now, when it wasn’t as readily available as it once was that he’d wanted it so badly. Much like everything in life.
The two ate slowly, savoring each crunchy bite as the flames began to dissipate and the sound of walkers on the ground got louder. They would have one hell of a fight tomorrow, but for now they were just happy to have each other.