Work Text:
"Have you taken a shower yet?"
Daryl looked up at her from where he sat on the pristine white railing of the porch, carefully picking at his crossbow. Carol couldn't help but think he looked out of place, the gruffness of his appearance clashing with the all too clean setting. "Mmmhmm," he hummed.
Carol peered at the greasiness of his hair, at the grime that covered his skin. She made her way down the stairs, glancing back over her shoulder at the archer. "We need to keep up appearances, even you," she groused.
Daryl huffed, reminiscent of a child refusing a bath. "Ain't gon' start now," he grumbled.
Carol continued her way down the sidewalk, waving a hand over her shoulder. "I'm gonna hose you down in your sleep!"
-
Ok, she wasn't going to hose him down in his sleep but she was going to make sure he got clean one way or another. It'd been a couple of weeks since they'd arrived at Alexandria and Carol had left the archer to himself, hoping he'd take it upon himself to bathe. Yet he had done no such thing and Carol was growing tired of the crusted dirt and blood obscuring the paleness of his skin.
Carol knew Daryl was hurting, maybe not physically but emotionally. It was clear to her that something happened between him and Beth before she died at the hospital in Atlanta. He was hurting and she wanted to help him, hold him tight, anything that would ease his pain but she knew it was not that simple.
If anything, she wanted time away from the local Alexandrians too. The front she put up around them was starting to give her a headache and if she had to listen to them rant on about useless things for even another minute she would surely explode. She didn’t fit in, not really. These people were weak. She wanted time with her family, with Daryl.
So when she found him curled up against the porch railing, similar to that first day, she promptly seated herself right beside him. With the sun setting and not many neighbors around, they finally had some privacy. She had almost forgotten just how nosey people could be.
Daryl looked down his nose at her, squinty eyes barely visible behind the curtains of his scraggly mane that certainly was more grease than hair at this point. Carol gave him a smile, small but genuine. “Som’thin’ ya’ need?” he rasped. His lips caught on his teeth and she glanced at the small scabs covering the bottom lip from nights of restless chewing.
She curled her lip up in a smirk, “have you taken that shower yet?” His blue eyes narrowed and he turned his head away, jaw bobbing with the grinding of his teeth.
“Still naggin’ ‘bout tha’ shit, huh,” he grumbled. The archer brought his right hand up and began to chew on his already too-short nails. She caught sight of the crusted blood and dirt under said nails and gently wrapped her hand around his wrist, pulling his bloodied cuticles away from his mouth. He scrunched up his nose at her, allowing her to let go of him before he yanked away. Carol leaned forward to hoist herself up and onto her feet, peering down at him.
“C’mon, you know you’re due,” she pressed. She watched the way his tired eyes flicked between her and the door to the house and back again, the way his jaw twitched. She knew the answer before he reluctantly stood and gestured for her to lead the way. She smiled at him before turning to head to the bathroom, grabbing a clean white towel from the hallway closet on the way. They entered the room, her settling the towel on the counter beside the sink.
Daryl stood in the middle of the room, fingers tap, tap, tapping restlessly against his ragged pants. His adams apple bobbed and he stared at the bathtub as if a monster was going to jump out at him from the drain.
Carol reached across the tub and gathered the different shampoos and conditioners, along with the many scrubs and rags. She set them onto the counter and bent down to turn the knob so the water would start running. Once she got the temperature at a comfortable warmth she stepped back to let it fill up. She popped the cap on one of the shampoos and poured a small amount into the water, stirring it up so it became cloudy with bubbles.
She turned back around to face the man and watched him shuffle his withered boots on the smooth white tiles, smearing some mud across them. His head hung and she thought he looked nervous. His fingers rapped against the front pockets of his pants.
"Go ahead and get in while I get you some fresh clothes," she suggested, moving past him in the small space. Her shoulder brushed against his bicep and she caught a whiff of his stink and mentally praised herself for having him take this much needed bath. Carol glanced over her shoulder as she took her leave, looking at the way he scrutinized the tub of bubbly goodness. She snorted, moving onto the laundry room where she had previously folded some fresh clothing.
She grabbed some large dark gray sweats and a black and gray flannel that was hopefully big enough to fit his broad frame. She paused to look at the pile of undergarments and snatched up a pair of white heart-patterned boxers, the only pair she had washed that load. It would just have to do.
Carol made her way down the hall to the bathroom and smiled when she heard splashing. She tapped the white door, "I'm coming in," she called. She heard a grunt in response and took that as her affirmative to enter, pushing the door open.
She first stared at the dirty piles of clothes on the floor behind the door. Her eyes flicked to the biker vest lazily tossed onto the toilet seat with the lid shut. Her gaze landed on the hunched form of the archer, curled into the tub where she could only see him from the chest up and knees poking out of the bubbles.
Carol set the clothes in a neat pile on the counter and pulled a stool up to the tub so she could sit within reach of the dirty man in front of her. She sighed, "Alright," the archer peered up at her from beneath his lashes as she sat, "hair first?"
Daryl stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. "Don' gotta babysit me," he grunted. His hand stirred the bubbles and she watched as a few of them floated before popping in a flurry of fluffy white.
Carol leaned forward so her arms rested against the side of the tub, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. "I know," she smiled. The man stared at her a moment longer before sighing, bobbing his head and his hair swaying with it.
He dipped his head forward and used his hands to cup water into his palms and wet his hair, shiny bubbles clinging onto the dark strands. Carol grasped a shampoo bottle, squirting a glob of yellow into her palm before raising her hand to his head in a silent question. Once Daryl gave her a nod and moved to where his back was facing her, she curled her fingers into his scalp and rubbed the shampoo in, watching as small bubbles formed beneath her fingertips. She drug her nails all along his head, through his hair, beneath his ears, his hairline, until he looked more cloud than human.
The suds flew around the room as she shook them from her fingers, cupping her hands and washing the bubbles away. She skimmed his hair, finding small pieces of foliage and dirt clumped up into wads. She carefully picked then out and untied the knots until his hair was smoothed out, sopping against his broad shoulders.
Her gaze followed the lines of his hair to his right shoulder blade to the twin devil tats there. Her fingers caressed his skin and she paused when he tensed. She took her hand away, instead running her nails through his scalp again in a silent apology.
"Don' gotta stop," he murmured. Carol blinked at his sudden words, "Jus' not use' to it 's all."
Carol hummed, pressing the pads of her fingers against his upper back, feeling the corded muscle underneath. She frowned at the knots beneath his skin and pressed her thumb in, rubbing against that spot. Daryl jolted and she halted immediately. "Is this ok?"
Daryl's head dipped in a nod of approval and she continued her work. Slowly but surely the hard muscle beneath her fingers softened and her lips quirked up in a smirk when she heard a small groan from him. Her fingers dipped lower, dragging lightly over the raised puffy stripes. She thought briefly of a tiger, wading in the green murky water of a swamp.
"Can you lean forward a bit?" She requested. He pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned forward. Carol splashed the water drifting around his waist up onto his back, soaking him in warmth. She used her deft fingers to melt the tension out of his body and she chuckled as he practically became putty beneath her.
"Wha's so funny," he mumbled into his knees. Carol hummed as she rubbed along his spine, feeling the vibrations of his rumbles of pleasure through her palms. With each rise and fall of his lungs he only seemed to reduce more and more into a purring kitten than the ferocious tiger everyone else saw throughout the day. Her tummy jumped with butterflies.
"Oh, nothing," she muttered. He only sighed in response and the overwhelming wish for this moment to last forever consumed her. She admired the starry constellation of freckles adorning his body, the small silvery stretch marks lining his hips. Her chest filled with warmth at the thought that he was letting her see him like this, letting his walls crumble for her.
Soon enough the water cooled and she hoisted herself up to her feet, knees aching. She wrung her hands out into the tub and grabbed the towel from the counter. She looked over at him expectantly, “C’mon, you gotta dry off,” she turned around to face the door so her back was to him, “I won’t peek.”
She heard the water stir and the sound of the man standing up and putting his wet feet onto the tile beneath them. He gently took the towel from her grasp and heard the squeak of heavy weight on the toilet lid. She waited until he gave the ok to turn around. When she did he had tossed his vest with the rest of his filthy clothes. The white towel wrapped around his waist, love handles just barely spilling over the top from finally getting a steady food intake. The sight made her smile and he narrowed his eyes at her.
“Tha’ hell you smilin’ ‘bout,” he grumbled. His hands twitched against his bare thighs. Carol shook her head, turning towards the door. She grabbed another towel from the hallway closet.
“Let me dry your hair,” she smirked, “you look like a drowned rat.”
She almost laughed out loud at the face he made, eyes widening and lips pulling back in mild surprise. “Ha, real funny,” he scoffed. His lips jutted out in a pout and he crossed his arms across his chest.
Carol chuckled, “You know I’m only teasing.” She stood before him and leaned over to scrub his dark locks, twisting and curling the towel around his head. After a few minutes she pulled the towel back and snorted at the wild mess that was his mane. It was sticking up in places and curled up in others. She lightly patted away at his face, shaking away his pouty lips and his eyes scrunched up. She moved along his collarbone until she reached his belly, staring at the scars covering the softer flesh. The small circular one suddenly had her thinking back to the farm, the day he came back injured and on the verge of death.
She shook her head, finishing drying him up and handing his clothes to him. He sneered at the heart-print boxers and she laughed, “I know, I know, but they were all I had washed.”
She turned around once again and waited for him to slide the boxers on. She faced him to see him sliding the sweats up onto his hips. The waistband was a little tight around his waist but she figured the elastic material would loosen the more he wore it. She handed the flannel over to him and he tucked his arms into the sleeves, buttoning it up along the middle up to his chest. She stepped forward and took hold of his wrist, leading him barefoot into the bedroom she’d taken as her own for the past weeks. The space was pretty bare except for the Alexandrian decor that she hadn’t bothered to improve on. She really only used the bed anyway, not wanting to stay cooped up inside for too long lest she get antsy.
She led him to the bed, sitting him down on the white sheets. She smirked at the flowery scent that he expelled now rather than the mucky greasy smell from earlier. He shuffled on her bed as she dug around in her nightstand drawer for a brush. Once she found it she sat beside him. “Can I brush your hair? It’s the last step of your makeover,” she smirked.
Daryl huffed, “...fine,” he dipped his chin, long bangs obscuring his eyes. Carol gently ran the brush through until he had to turn around so she could reach the back. Soon enough his hair was smoothed out and she couldn't help but smile at how healthy it looked. She put the brush in her lap to run her nails across his scalp and fluff up his strands, pulling away from a newly fluffy head of hair.
He turned around and her heart thrummed at how she could finally see his face. No greasy bangs to cover those blue, blue eyes that she had grown so very fond of. No dirt and mud gathered around his scruff and blocking out his pale skin covered in freckles that reminded her so much of the stars. She smiled at him, holding his tired gaze for a long, sweet moment.
He cleared his throat and she looked away, leaning over to put the brush on her nightstand. She slipped her shoes off her tired feet and sat against the headboard. She patted the space beside her in silent invitation, looking at him sitting there awkwardly at the foot of the bed. She watched as he lumbered up the bed on his hands and knees, settling on his right side with his back up against the wall. She turned over onto her left side so she could face him. She glanced up into his tired eyes, a soft bluish gray in the low light. He had his right arm tucked up under his head against the pillow, cheek pressed into his bicep. Carol’s eyes flicked down and she smirked at the way his shirt rode up his belly, showing the waistband of his girly boxers.
“..Thank’s,” Daryl mumbled into the gentle silence. Carol looked up at his face. His eyes were shut, the normally tight muscles of his face relaxed and she thought he looked so, so tired.
“You’re welcome,” she murmured. Silence followed and she listened to his breaths even out. She looked up to see him quietly snoozing into his arm. She gently shuffled closer to his warmth, curling an arm around his waist. She felt the blanket of sleep overcoming her.
With the dirt and worries from the past few weeks washed away, she fell into a comfortable sleep beside him.