Author's Note!
Just a random un-betaed short little one shot thing I decided to do to help deal with TWD withdrawl.
, set whenever (doesn't matter), just Daryl thinking after he and Carol have consumated the relationship.
Warning for language and light references to adult situations. Enjoy and please review!

Every whisper, every sigh.
Eats away this heart of mine.
Sweet Nothing- Calvin Harris feat. Florence Welch

Daryl lay back in disbelief, mind struggling to piece together what had just happened; looking over to Carol's sleeping, bare-skinned figure in the crook of his arm to confirm the reality of the night's events. She was real, that much was for certain as he felt the soft rise and fall of her chest, her steady breathing in his ear.
She was fucking sleeping in his fucking arms- and it was confusing the ever loving shit out of him.
But damn, she looked good there, perched against him, bare back glowing with the sweat they'd managed to work up. She looked restful, comfortable.
Like she belonged.
It was the complete opposite of how he felt, all jittery, charged as if someone had shot an electric current through him.
A small part of him was proud, almost bouncing with the happiness of having achieved what he'd assumed the impossible goal being "with" Carol- whatever the fuck that meant. The rest of him was overshadowed by nervousness, confusion. Somehow, against all odds, he'd achieved this.
Now what?
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
He could only assume that there was some polite way to continue whatever this was, but he had no idea what that was, what she'd expect of him now.
He hoped to hell that she wasn't asking for some sort of declaration of love or any other similar bullshit. Wasn't his style.
Sure he cared about her and sure there were feelings there, he just wasn't entirely sure if love was the way to put it.
Then again, he wouldn't know love if it kicked him in the balls.
Either way all he'd managed to work out so far was that he gave a damn and he was more than happy to settle for her giving a damn too.
Any attempt to say something beyond would not end well.
Another thought struck him then, one that sent a slight pang of fear through him.
What if she didn't want whatever the hell this was to continue?
Then you pick your sorry ass up and get the fuck out of her life, he snapped at himself mentally, annoyed and frustrated by the idea.
He didn't want tonight to have been a once-in-a-lifetime event.
For one thing, if it was, chances were he'd never get laid again- women weren't exactly fighting to jump his bones.
And for another thing, he enjoyed being with Carol, be it sex-type shit or not. If this was it, then it would be just that- it. The end.
No more helping her gut the night's dinner, no more of her light teasing when she brought him his meals, no more of the mostly silent but completely fucking brilliant and sweet conversation she made with him. Nothing but awkward longing glances on his part while she avoided his hick ass like the plague.
Unable to help it, his nerves began to force him to toss and turn a little, startling Carol from her slumber.

She looked up at him, blue eyes heavy with sleep. "You leaving?"

He forced himself not to wince, using all he had to keep the sting and frustration out of his eyes. He didn't blame her really and he slowly crawled from the matress. "Sure, I'll take off, oughta take watch 'r sumthin' anyways-"

His voice stopped instantly as Carol grabbed his wrist, long, slender fingers wrapping around it.

"I don't want you to go Daryl, I just thought," she bit her lip, smiling sheepishly,"well, that you wouldn't want to stay." Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"I'd like you to, stay I mean. If that's alright with you."

He supressed a proud little grin, if only barely. "Fuck, 'course it's al'ight wit' me. Ain't stupid."

She smiled at him as he crawled back in, laying her head against his chest, drifting easily back to sleep. Breathing in the heady scent of her, of soap and grass and her lavender shampoo, he closed his eyes and followed suit.