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
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"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.
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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.