The soft sound he makes in response is the verbal equivalent of a squirm, brushing off the compliment like a kid trying to evade a hug. It's not that he disbelieves her, just, goin' all sappy like that, he doesn't know what to do with it. Especially with all the things they're not saying. With Sophia, it's hard to look back and see anything but how they failed her. There's nothing false about his modesty; he's useful, sure, but they all are. He doesn't do anything that any of them wouldn't.
"You keep me going," he mutters. Both the group and her, herself. It's a hard fact, it doesn't sound like he's gone soft 'til it's already out of his mouth, too late to take back if he wanted to.
Besides, it's not so magnanimous as that; he just wants very little for himself. The habit of not owning more than he can carry, not trusting any place to be safe, means he can't put much stock in stuff, frivolous or otherwise. Given the chance to think it through, he'd rather something for everyone. If that's part of what makes him a good man... all the better. He's never quite convinced it's true, but he's better every day than he used to be. That's enough. Something worth being proud of. She's been a big part of that; they all have. He's not kidding; without his people, he'd have no reason to carry on. Carol was the first real tie he had to them, the first one he felt responsible to, more than just an owed debt.
But, then, who knows what he'll say in the moment, asked what he wants?
Wants are difficult. Needs are easy; easy to establish, which makes them easier to meet. Goals to work toward. Wanting, that's nebulous and uncertain. As time goes on, as things stay relatively safe, it gets a little easier to relax, to think past the bare minimums. He's making an effort. (Case in point, right here.)
Unfortunately for him, she finds it cute when he's all embarrassed like that. Why else would she make the jokes she makes? (Well, other than perhaps a part of her genuinely being attracted to him, but she's more attracted to him as a person than otherwise which she finds so much more significant.)
She's about to say something to that effect when he murmurs his reply, melting what of her heart he hadn't already. Carol sees that effort. So as a reward she decides not to make him proverbially squirm any further by telling him more about how wonderful he is.
Instead: "It's damn sexy when you say things like that." Because it is, but more because joking with him feels normal and comfortable and like a different way of appreciating his words without being all mushy.
She is well aware this might also embarrass him in a way but his head is in her lap and she sidestepped that one, okay.
How's that not supposed to make him squirm? Keep sayin' things like that when he's got his head in your lap, Carol, and you'll make him think you like him.
He makes a face at her, a mock-scowl to cover his embarrassment, shifting to stretch out a bit more. He never knows how much of the joke is a joke, never quite knows what reaction she wants from him, but under the circumstances he thinks he gets a little leeway in questionably joking right back.
"Ain't you had enough of that today?" he drawls right back, raising an eyebrow and managing to sound suitably haughty, though decidedly teasing. After all that she doesn't get to flirt with impunity, okay.
She lifts an eyebrow of her own, since when does he flirt back? Carol can't decide whether she's more impressed with him or (mildly) upset that she's lost her go-to way to get that aforementioned squirming on demand.
"Now you've done it." She's half chuckling, half mock-scolding. "If I say no, you'll think I'm challenging you. And if I say yes..." she leans over him slightly, failing entirely at being serious, "you'll know I'm full of shit."
Carol playfully flicks his forehead for good measure, and to let him know that there's really no pressure or expectation or even request behind that. Just sitting here is as much as she could ever hope for and it's more than enough.
Twice today he kissed her, once of his own volition, and that second one wasn't even awful. That definitely qualifies him to flirt back. She shouldn't worry, though, because he's bound to keep squirming, when he's not in the catbird seat (lap) enjoying the spoils of his victory.
If she's full of shit saying nice things about him, he doesn't wanna know, anyway.
He makes a growly noise and swats vaguely at her hand, exactly as non-serious as she is. The point for letting him down gently is long since past, and she's been hanging onto him pretty hard. He doesn't trust easy, but he trusts her enough to think she wouldn't have taken just a joke so far.
He is right to trust her because she would never, ever, under any threat or circumstance joke about what just happened in the entryway. She's just doing what she does, what they do, because it's been so, so long since she could.
And of a similar vein, she'd never want to let him down, in any way.
Carol starts to say something, but before any bit of it can escape she loses the words in a wide yawn. Who would have thought kitchen duty would make her tired after all the running around and sleepless nights they used to have?
The biggest potential for disaster here, probably, is that they're both so eager to please that they're not worrying about what they want themselves. Nor do they know. At least, Daryl doesn't, but he's yet to run up against anything he doesn't, so that's... Promising. Maybe.
He's waiting for her standard witty retort (and resigning himself to the fact that she'll probably manage to make him squirm this time, because there's only so much he can manage), but instead he half-smirks at the yawn. Guess he tired her out, huh? (He doesn't say it, but you know, he's thinking it loudly.)
Instead, with a little grunt of effort, he hauls himself upright and sits properly on the couch, in the middle so he's still comfortably close, arms stretched along the back of it. Seems fair not to keep her pinned, if she's tired, if she's hit her limit on dealing with this. But he's still not running off.
Speaking of the spoils of victory, Carol takes full advantage of his new position to pull her feet onto the sofa and plop her head on his shoulder. Just as planned... not that the previous setup had been bad, of course.
"I feel like I haven't slept in years." Maybe she hasn't, between Ed's temper and raising a child and then the walkers, culminating in everything that happened since sickness broke out in the prison and then finding herself here and forced to explain it all.
Carol glances up at his face, tentative for the first time. "You mind?"
Offering up an escape route doesn't mean he wants her to take it, just that he wants her to have it.
And it's nice, yeah. He shifts just a bit, to throw his arm over her shoulder, settling into his spot since she looks like she plans to be there a while. Which is also nice, come to think of it. For all he cares if anyone comes in and finds them dozing in a heap, it doesn't matter one bit. That she's comfortable enough to let her guard down, that means something, he thinks something good.
She's had her guard up for so long that it's a relief to know she can let it drop, even if the wrong kind of sound will send her bolting upright. Take what you can get when you can get it, that's all any of them know anymore.
Carol shifts against him to get comfortable, cheek nestling in. "Don't eat all the cookies," she says, a drowsy afterthought. She doesn't so much care if he did, but she felt like she should say something, and any more tiptoeing around the obvious topic is too much a tightrope walk for her tired mind.
He thinks it's probably too much to hope for, that things will stay this comfortable and simple, but for the moment he intends to enjoy it. And yeah, he likely will drop off to sleep not long after her, because Daryl sleeps kind of terribly-- never for long, at odd hours-- but having her pressed against him is reassuring.
He doesn't answer, just leans his cheek against her forehead. Yeah, okay. They've had worse days than this.
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what_wings_dare2014-02-14 08:31 pm
no subject
"You keep me going," he mutters. Both the group and her, herself. It's a hard fact, it doesn't sound like he's gone soft 'til it's already out of his mouth, too late to take back if he wanted to.
Besides, it's not so magnanimous as that; he just wants very little for himself. The habit of not owning more than he can carry, not trusting any place to be safe, means he can't put much stock in stuff, frivolous or otherwise. Given the chance to think it through, he'd rather something for everyone. If that's part of what makes him a good man... all the better. He's never quite convinced it's true, but he's better every day than he used to be. That's enough. Something worth being proud of. She's been a big part of that; they all have. He's not kidding; without his people, he'd have no reason to carry on. Carol was the first real tie he had to them, the first one he felt responsible to, more than just an owed debt.
But, then, who knows what he'll say in the moment, asked what he wants?
Wants are difficult. Needs are easy; easy to establish, which makes them easier to meet. Goals to work toward. Wanting, that's nebulous and uncertain. As time goes on, as things stay relatively safe, it gets a little easier to relax, to think past the bare minimums. He's making an effort. (Case in point, right here.)
no subject
She's about to say something to that effect when he murmurs his reply, melting what of her heart he hadn't already. Carol sees that effort. So as a reward she decides not to make him proverbially squirm any further by telling him more about how wonderful he is.
Instead: "It's damn sexy when you say things like that." Because it is, but more because joking with him feels normal and comfortable and like a different way of appreciating his words without being all mushy.
She is well aware this might also embarrass him in a way but his head is in her lap and she sidestepped that one, okay.
no subject
He makes a face at her, a mock-scowl to cover his embarrassment, shifting to stretch out a bit more. He never knows how much of the joke is a joke, never quite knows what reaction she wants from him, but under the circumstances he thinks he gets a little leeway in questionably joking right back.
"Ain't you had enough of that today?" he drawls right back, raising an eyebrow and managing to sound suitably haughty, though decidedly teasing. After all that she doesn't get to flirt with impunity, okay.
no subject
"Now you've done it." She's half chuckling, half mock-scolding. "If I say no, you'll think I'm challenging you. And if I say yes..." she leans over him slightly, failing entirely at being serious, "you'll know I'm full of shit."
Carol playfully flicks his forehead for good measure, and to let him know that there's really no pressure or expectation or even request behind that. Just sitting here is as much as she could ever hope for and it's more than enough.
no subject
If she's full of shit saying nice things about him, he doesn't wanna know, anyway.
He makes a growly noise and swats vaguely at her hand, exactly as non-serious as she is. The point for letting him down gently is long since past, and she's been hanging onto him pretty hard. He doesn't trust easy, but he trusts her enough to think she wouldn't have taken just a joke so far.
no subject
And of a similar vein, she'd never want to let him down, in any way.
Carol starts to say something, but before any bit of it can escape she loses the words in a wide yawn. Who would have thought kitchen duty would make her tired after all the running around and sleepless nights they used to have?
no subject
He's waiting for her standard witty retort (and resigning himself to the fact that she'll probably manage to make him squirm this time, because there's only so much he can manage), but instead he half-smirks at the yawn. Guess he tired her out, huh? (He doesn't say it, but you know, he's thinking it loudly.)
Instead, with a little grunt of effort, he hauls himself upright and sits properly on the couch, in the middle so he's still comfortably close, arms stretched along the back of it. Seems fair not to keep her pinned, if she's tired, if she's hit her limit on dealing with this. But he's still not running off.
no subject
"I feel like I haven't slept in years." Maybe she hasn't, between Ed's temper and raising a child and then the walkers, culminating in everything that happened since sickness broke out in the prison and then finding herself here and forced to explain it all.
Carol glances up at his face, tentative for the first time. "You mind?"
no subject
Offering up an escape route doesn't mean he wants her to take it, just that he wants her to have it.
And it's nice, yeah. He shifts just a bit, to throw his arm over her shoulder, settling into his spot since she looks like she plans to be there a while. Which is also nice, come to think of it. For all he cares if anyone comes in and finds them dozing in a heap, it doesn't matter one bit. That she's comfortable enough to let her guard down, that means something, he thinks something good.
no subject
Carol shifts against him to get comfortable, cheek nestling in. "Don't eat all the cookies," she says, a drowsy afterthought. She doesn't so much care if he did, but she felt like she should say something, and any more tiptoeing around the obvious topic is too much a tightrope walk for her tired mind.
no subject
He doesn't answer, just leans his cheek against her forehead. Yeah, okay. They've had worse days than this.