First off: Thank you guys for the awesome reponse to this little silly thing! In reponse to your requests, here is Daryl's side of the experience. Please note that I have up'd the rating to M for a good bit of language and some sexual suggestions.
Blame Alamo Girl. She's awesome at putting ideas in my head.
Enjoy and have a good laugh!
Steam made his skin sticky and hot, and he was glad of the cooler temperature outside the bathroom.
Daryl ran a hand through his damp hair as he met the eyes of Shane, the man obviously waiting to use the shower himself. Any other person would have avoided the harsh gaze that the ex-cop seemed to shoot at everyone these days.
Daryl Dixon was neither in the mood for confrontation or to be intimidated. With a glare of his own he brushed past the man, knocking his shoulder slightly and not caring if Shane thought it intentional.
He received no bark from the wound-up pit bull, only a loud slam of the bathroom door closing behind him.
Shaking his head at the idiots he chose to keep company with, he bounded for the front door, the peace and quiet of his secluded campsite calling him away from the unnecessary drama.
Light still shone through the open doorway as well as the windows, though the color that filtered through was fast becoming a deeper orange as the sun made to set past the tree line.
As he approached he could hear it: the sounds of creaking wood on the porch, female voices talking low with random giggles thrown in. A snarl set on his lips at the thought of laughter being tossed around so soon after the barn's opening, and for a moment there he wondered if he'd prefer the drama over the joy.
One voice was instantly recognizable to him as Carol's, and a second later, Andrea's followed as the two went back and forth over…
"With a cherry on it."
Daryl hesitated at the screen door, suddenly apprehensive about walking onto the porch and straight into Carol's field of view: the woman wanted him back in camp, he wanted to be away from these people, and he certainly didn't feel like fussing with her about it again.
Lord knew he'd fucked up and lost his head the last time….
"You know, I take it back. Screw the vibrator. I could really use some sex."
Daryl blinked and turned his head slightly to the right, his ears catching Andrea's comment and sending a wave of confusion through him.
Weren't they just talking about ice cream?
"…Yeah. Me too." Carol's response was quiet but he heard it, and the fingers that strayed over the handle of the screen door gripped it like a vice and he swore his skin just got hot again.
It was one thing to reminisce about your favorite old sweets from before the world went haywire, but to sit out on the old man's porch and talk about…about…
He couldn't decide if he should open the door and bolt, or turn around and head out the back. Either way, he really figured he oughta'…
"It was just once…"
"You don't have to explain it; it's none of my business…"
"I know, I just…wanted to tell someone I guess."
Daryl sniffed disdainfully at himself for straying at the door too long; the women were obviously having one of those 'girl talks' and it certainly wasn't any business of his. And he didn't really care to know the details of that conversation anyway. His private, gossip-free tent was just across the fields, and he had a night fire to get started on.
"…We need to find you some sex."
His shoulder was just turned away from the screen when he caught the tail end of Andrea's mischief-drenched comment. Daryl froze and felt his eyes crease.
What the fuck did she just…?
Part of him wanted to fly out the back door as fast as his feet would carry him, not stopping until he reached his tent so he could pretend the image of Andrea parading Carol around the camp offering sex had not just entered his head.
The other part wanted to stomp out onto that porch and tell Andrea how fucking stupid she was for even thinking that Carol would settle for one of the dumb-shits of their group.
What, did blondie think Carol'd just prance into camp and jump T-Dog's bones? Or Shane's?
Not 'No', but 'HELL NO'….
"And who do you propose I get this 'much needed sex' from?"
Daryl's head hurt. His eyes blurred. The sound of the crickets outside suddenly seemed much louder. What the hell were these women thinking?
"…I'm pretty sure I'm the last person Daryl Dixon would want to have sex with."
The hell you say?
When did HIS name come into this conversation? Who brought him up? Were they seriously talking about this? Why did he care?
And why the fuck were his muscles not responding?
Daryl stood rooted in place at the door, helpless and rigid, skin blazing, blood boiling, mind scrambling into a plate of dehydrated eggs right there in his skull.
"…I don't know what exactly is going on between you two—"
"Maybe you should fix that."
"I'd need to get him to speak to me first—"
His hand hurt from gripping the handle so tight, but he welcomed the pain as something relatively normal compared to…to everything else he was feeling. The thought that this woman, this same damned woman that not too long back jerked away from him because his damned-to-hell temper drove him at her like a woman-beating piece-of-shit was actually sitting there discussing the idea of having sex with him?
And when the fucked-to-hell-FUCK did his pants get so damn tight?
In an instant that he'd barely remember later, his hand turned the handle and his body moved.
Daryl found himself on the steps of the porch, eyes trying to focus on the campsite that offered its safe haven and finding it utterly impossible. They cut to the right, instantly meeting the wide, terrified gaze of the woman in question.
He could do nothing to ignore the way her body tensed and her left hand rubbed against her knee. And he definitely couldn't ignore the damned mystery hard-on that screamed at him as an image he'd never considered before slammed into his mind's eye.
His head moved, and he knew he'd nodded at her.
He didn't know what the nod was supposed to mean, and he didn't care at the moment.
His nails bit his palms as he rushed down the steps and into the grass, the isolated tent in the distance calling him and the echo of Carol's words making him snarl and groan at the same time.
By the time the sun set, he'd probably need another shower.