A/N: Just a fluffy oneshot I felt compelled to post without beta before hitting the bed.

Disclaimer: I don't own nothin'! It all belongs to the creators, writers and so forth. But d**n it if I don't love playing in their sandbox.

The pounding in Daryl's head wouldn't stop, increasingly becoming stronger despite his best efforts to ignore all the new men that stepped up asking to help her cook, do inventory, or whatever job she was working on at the time. There were a few that bluntly stated what they wanted to do to her in graphic detail, causing his teeth to grind and fists to clench. Yeah, he'd been shadowing her with the new influx of people to the prison, not fully trusting them…with good reason.

He couldn't help it. She'd always been his, at least in his mind, and that had translated into scowling at the other men as he tried to show ownership, protection. He had no real experience with relationships before the turn and the new people of the male variety sent him into overdrive. His number one reason to quit searching for the Governor came in the form of Sam, who it seemed, even after the warning glares Daryl sent his way, continuously pushed into her space to the point of slapping her on the butt as she walked by him one afternoon.

His headache was turning into a migraine and if he didn't figure out how to let her and everyone else know she was his, Daryl might have to slit a bastard's throat.


When he woke before everyone else that morning he stayed laying in bed not going out on a hunt. When it came time to send out a group to scavenge he let Glen take lead instead of himself. Even when he caught Bob snoring on watch duty he didn't step up to take over. No, he decided to place some other unnamable greenhorn into rotation, so he could keep an eye on Carol. He watched her all day from breakfast preparations, to laundry, to gathering the children for their daily afternoon lessons.

As the day trudged onward he came to a decision, one he wasn't sure he could manage, but was determined nonetheless. Standing in line for his tray Daryl knew he was about to step so far out of his comfort zone he might as well put on a tutu and perform the River Dance, but his own angst and discomfort would be worth every second.

Sam's voice suddenly jerked him out of his head.

"You're lookin' hot as a five alarm fire today, Carol. Sure you don't want to take a walk with me to the tower later?" The man's nasally voice questioned. "I know all those hard to reach places that'll have you screaming."

"Not in the least," she answered abruptly, trying to put as much distaste behind her refusal as possible, praying he would get the message.

Daryl's fuse lit up like a bonfire as he stalked out of line, deliberately snarling and glaring daggers at the man. Coming to a stop as he reached Carol's side, his arm shot out and wrapped around her waist to draw her into his body.

"You need ta back tha fuck up!" Daryl snarled.

"Daryl…" Carol's voice questioned, wavering, thoughts and emotions ricocheting like a bullet through her system with his unconventional actions. She'd never seen him this pissed off, not even when his brother had been left handcuffed to a roof.

Hearing her trembling voice, Daryl turned to her, allowing his feelings to shine in his eyes as he studied her face. Reading her sea blue depths and finding awe and love glowing so bright as to black the sun, the hunter knew he couldn't stop, couldn't pull away from his constant light…his soul.

"Love ya, Carol Ann, and this one'd do better to know you're mine," he proclaimed as his lips took possession of hers, aggressive and soft all at the same time. The sheer bliss of their first kiss had him forgetting anyone else existed, cocooning him in the warm wetness of her mouth. He grasped her to him in a lover's embrace as he growled against her slick, gliding tongue.