She does roll into him, but unevenly, leading with her top hip and the rest of her tugged unwillingly along in a movement that reminds her of when Sophia used to set a Slinkee going down the stairs. Catching herself isn't so successful either, one hand landing on his shoulder and the other wedged between them. The mental image combined with the way they've ended up has her unable to swallow her laughter.
A second and a remarkably unsubtle wiggle later, Carol's hand is free and her face is somewhere between the crook of his neck and his collarbone. "Hi, there." She can think of nothing better to say, whatever mood they had going is dead and gone but she can't manage to dislike this one. One of them may end up with a concussion if they keep going. Sounds worth it if you ask her.
They’re utterly hopeless, he has already pretty much accepted that. It’d probably be for the best if he never actually tries to look good for her, because chances are someone’d break a bone.
Since it’s more than obvious that she’s not laughing at him, though, he grins and half-laughs along with her, trying to wriggle in a complementary way to help her out. It’s somehow more difficult than it ought to be. Eventually their undignified tangle of limbs settles, and he takes advantage of the shift in positions to run a hand through her hair, because if she gets to play with his he gets to ruffle hers a bit. Fair’s fair.
“You come here often?” he deadpans, because he really has no idea what to say either, but at least that might make her laugh again.
He succeeds in that, prompting a short burst of soft laughter. And she doesn't mind that hand in her hair either, and takes advantage of the way they ended up to nuzzle against his neck.
"Not yet, but I might. It's kinda homey." The words are light even if the meaning isn't. After everything that happened in the prison she has trouble thinking of it with anything but pain anymore, so it's been a while since she's had a physical structure to call home. Wandering doesn't do much for her, whether from place to place or person to person. The stability of this moment, mattress dips notwithstanding, means more to her than she can say.
No complaints here. It's hard not to enjoy having someone you're pretty damn fond of snuggled up against you. He leaves his hand where it is, fingertips tracing idly back and forth.
"Good."
Stability isn't something any of them are used to, not anymore. But he wants her to stay, every way he can want that. To stay here and now, a while longer, to stay with him without pulling away. To stay in Teleios, not that either of them get much of a say in that. That last would be true if she was anyone, but she's not anyone, and while he wouldn't trade anyone's safety for hers (except maybe his own, but then, Daryl values his own safety less than anyone's,) he's desperately glad to have her.
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what_wings_dare2014-02-14 08:31 pm
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A second and a remarkably unsubtle wiggle later, Carol's hand is free and her face is somewhere between the crook of his neck and his collarbone. "Hi, there." She can think of nothing better to say, whatever mood they had going is dead and gone but she can't manage to dislike this one. One of them may end up with a concussion if they keep going. Sounds worth it if you ask her.
no subject
Since it’s more than obvious that she’s not laughing at him, though, he grins and half-laughs along with her, trying to wriggle in a complementary way to help her out. It’s somehow more difficult than it ought to be. Eventually their undignified tangle of limbs settles, and he takes advantage of the shift in positions to run a hand through her hair, because if she gets to play with his he gets to ruffle hers a bit. Fair’s fair.
“You come here often?” he deadpans, because he really has no idea what to say either, but at least that might make her laugh again.
no subject
"Not yet, but I might. It's kinda homey." The words are light even if the meaning isn't. After everything that happened in the prison she has trouble thinking of it with anything but pain anymore, so it's been a while since she's had a physical structure to call home. Wandering doesn't do much for her, whether from place to place or person to person. The stability of this moment, mattress dips notwithstanding, means more to her than she can say.
no subject
"Good."
Stability isn't something any of them are used to, not anymore. But he wants her to stay, every way he can want that. To stay here and now, a while longer, to stay with him without pulling away. To stay in Teleios, not that either of them get much of a say in that. That last would be true if she was anyone, but she's not anyone, and while he wouldn't trade anyone's safety for hers (except maybe his own, but then, Daryl values his own safety less than anyone's,) he's desperately glad to have her.