AN: More requests for Carol x Daryl so here you have it. This may be my last story for a while since I will be going on hiatus while I work. We'll see. I can't promise anything. Usual disclaimers apply, I don't own TWD or the characters.
She was surprised at how gentle his hands were. They were rough, calloused and dirty from whatever he had been doing beforehand, but he was gentle. She hadn't been expecting that from him. She tried to relax but it was hard, it had been a long time since a man had been gentle with her. She bit her lower lip nervously as she felt him press against her, she could feel his chest moving with every breath.
Daryl Dixon was teaching her to shoot a .22 handgun.
"Why are you shaking?" Daryl asked, more irritably than he intended. He was trying very hard not to lose his temper with her.
Carol had never shot a gun before. No one seemed to have trusted her with one, and no one had bothered to ask if she would like to learn. But Daryl had risked his life to bring her a gun for her birthday and she would be damned if she didn't learn to shoot it.
Carol had to admit that she was nervous. Her tiny frame was shaking as she held the surprisingly heavy weapon in her hands. Daryl had found the smallest gun he could, but it was still heavier than she'd expected.
But it wasn't just the gun that she was feeling nervous about. Daryl was standing right behind her, his body was pressed lightly against hers as he positioned her hands gently with his own. It was strangely pleasant to have him standing there, but also somewhat unnerving. She hadn't been close to anyone for years, and she still was skittish about having a man standing this close behind her.
"I'm nervous." Carol admitted.
Daryl stepped back. "Why? It's not like you've never been around a gun before."
Carol lowered the gun until it was pointing at the ground. She didn't turn to look at Daryl. "It's just not something that I ever thought I'd be doing." She admitted with a sigh. Her shoulders sagged as she felt defeated by her own foolishness.
Daryl chuckled. "Well now you gotta learn." He told her gently. He sidestepped around her so that he could look at her face while they spoke. "Unless you don't wanna?"
Carol shook her head. "No, I need to do this." She agreed. "You brought this for me, so that I could protect myself. There's no point in me putting this off anymore."
Daryl nodded. "So aim at the target, take a breath an' fire." He told her simply. He stepped back to give her room. He didn't much feel like taking another bullet.
Carol did as she was told, taking careful aim at the target Daryl had set up. She hesitated, her finger barely on the trigger. She stood there for a long moment, just staring blankly at the target.
"Holy shit! There's a walker behind the target!" Daryl shouted suddenly. "Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!"
Panicking, Carol pulled the trigger rapidly. She fired off three shots before she realized that Daryl was laughing.
She lowered the gun and frowned. She glared at him.
"That was mean." She scolded.
"Damn, woman!" Daryl replied with a grin. "You're a fine shot, I ain't even sure why we were worried about you." He pointed to the rough target.
She'd hit it, at least. Twice in the indicated 'chest' area and once in the 'shoulder'.
"Put the safety on." Daryl told her.
Carol did as she was instructed. She held the gun out to Daryl, holding it by the barrel and offering it to him.
"I don't want it." Daryl told her. "That's yours. You keep it. You never know when y' might need it."
Carol nodded and held the gun closer to her body, repositioning it so she was holding it properly. "Thank you, Daryl." She said with a small smile. She was still embarrassed.
Daryl shrugged. "You're a natural." He told her with a grin. "We gotta save the ammo though, we never know what's gonna happen around here." He added with a sigh.
Carol nodded. She would do whatever it took to live up to his expectations.
As they walked back towards the camp, Daryl entwined his fingers with hers.
"I'll make a Dixon outta you yet." He mumbled.
Carol was positive that she took that sentiment the wrong way, though part of her hoped she hadn't.