Holy Spirits

When Daryl and I finally emerged from the woods, hand in hand, it felt like we were lighter. The pain of losing his brother hadn't disappeared, but he wasn't trying to hide it anymore.

Opening up to me, and allowing himself to release his emotions had diluted some of the hurt a little. It was going take time, but we'd get through it together.

I was just relieved that he'd finally let himself feel it. Finally allowed me to take care of him.

We'd barely broken through the treeline when, in tandem, we spotted a figure up ahead. We both stopped, my fingers twitching toward my knife before I recognized the familiar silhouette.

Carol.

She wasn't out for an evening stroll - she was dressed to leave. Her backpack was slung over one shoulder, her knife belted to her thigh, and the set of her jaw told me she wasn't out here on a whim.

Daryl noticed it too. He dropped my hand and picked up his pace, gaining on her.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he caught up. "The hell you doin'?"

Carol froze, caught in the act, her hand tightening around her strap. Her expression was hard to decipher in the dark, but the slight shift of her weight, the way she squared her shoulders, told me she was bracing herself.

"Daryl," she said, quiet but firm. "I have to."

Daryl didn't budge. I took a cautious step to the side, watching the way his breathing turned shallow, the way his grip flexed on the crossbow. Not in aggression - more like he was holding onto something for dear life.

"You leavin'?" His voice was taut, and I could sense the fear in it.

Carol sighed like she'd expected this but didn't want to deal with it, hence the moonlight escape. "I don't belong here anymore."

"That's bullshit." He spat.

I glanced between them, the weight of their history hanging in the air like a storm about to break. Daryl and Carol had been through hell together - losing Sophia, burying people they cared about. But I'd seen the distance growing between them since she'd come back. Some of it was due to Daryl's grief, causing him to pull away from everyone, but it wasn't just that. Carol had changed, hardened in ways that made her feel like a stranger to some of us. And I think, maybe, she believed that was her own fault.

She exhaled, shaking her head. "I got exiled, Daryl. You remember that, right? Rick made that call. Everyone else went along with it."

Daryl's jaw twitched. "I didn't... She didn't." He gestured to me. "We never wanted ya gone."

Silence stretched between them.

Carol's throat bobbed. "It's different now. I can feel it. People look at me, and I see what they're thinking. I've done things I can't take back. And I don't know if I want to."

Daryl shook his head, stepping closer. "We've all done shit. Ya think I don't know what it's like, feelin' like ya ain't got a place? I been there my whole damn life. But you do belong here. With us. With me and Athena."

Carol's breathing stuttered, just a little.

I stayed quiet, letting them have this. Daryl didn't open up often, and when he did, it was like watching a wound bleed clean - painful but necessary. He was on a roll tonight with, letting his emotions show not just to me, but to his best friend, too.

"I don't wanna wake up one mornin' and find ya gone," he said, softer now, like the weight of it was too much to hold. "Not again."

Carol looked away, blinking hard.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the rustling of the trees in the night breeze.

Then, finally, Carol sighed. Not in defeat, but in something closer to surrender.

"You sure about that?" she asked, voice rough.

Daryl huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah. I'm sure."

Carol's fingers curled around her strap. I saw the way she clung to it like a lifeline - like if she let go, she'd be letting go of something bigger.

And then, after a long, hesitant pause... she did.

She let the backpack slip from her shoulder, the sound of it hitting the ground almost too loud in the quiet.

Daryl pulled her into a tight hug, trying to express to her how much she meant to him.

I stepped forward afterwards, giving her a hug of my own. "We wouldn't be standing here right now if it wasn't for you blowing shit up, ya crazy bitch. We need you."

Carol closed her eyes for a moment, then smiled.

Crisis averted... for about thirty seconds.

A new threat presented itself almost immediately. Five people emerged from the trees behind us. They looked fucking ridiculous - donning long black cloaks with hoods. I couldnt help but snort a little as I realised what they reminded me of.

"The Dementors are here." I said a little too loudly as we each readied our weapons. Carol chuckled under her breath, but the reference went straight over Daryl's head.

It was as the people started approaching us, that I stopped finding the situation funny.

Gareth.

What remained of the Terminus reprobates had found us. They were small in number, and I knew we could take them. It was what Daryl was going to do to them that had my heart pounding in my chest.

He audibly growled as he lunged toward the men, opting to go hand to hand despite having his crossbow with him. He sliced the throat of one, instantly spinning and doing the same to another.

Carol and I kept our weapons sharp, edging closer, but Daryl didn't need us. He was going full Rambo on their asses. The knowledge of what these people had done to his brother fuelling a ferocious rage that made him almost superhuman.

Carol moved to attack, but I grabbed her arm. "Let him do this. He needs to."

She nodded, stepping back, not taking her eyes off the brawl in front of us. Two of the men were on Daryl, but I didn't for a second feel the need to intervene. He used his knife like a tool of justice, plunging it into them in turn and punching them clean off their feet to top it off. They didn't stand a chance.

Gareth made a beeline for me, brandishing his own knife. I disarmed him quickly, twisting his elbow around his back painfully, and forcing him to drop the blade. Carol brought her knife to his throat as I held him stationary, but she stopped short of finishing him.

She knew he was Daryl's.

The redneck sauntered over, his eyes menacing. He crouched down in front of the incapacitated piece of shit, who squirmed in my arms, trying to break free. There was no chance I was letting that happen. My boyfriend needed vengeance, and I was going to make sure he got it.

I knew better than anybody the need to avenge a murdered sibling.

Daryl's eyes seethed with an intense fury as he stared at Gareth. I could almost feel the heat of his blood boiling.

"Yur a pathetic excuse for a human." He spat, eyes level with his enemy.

"What? For trying to survive?" Gareth answered arrogantly.

"Eatin' people? Really? Yur no better than the dead. In fact, yur worse."

"It evolved into that. We evolved. We had to."

"Bullshit." Daryl snarled. "Yur sick."

I couldn't see Gareth's expression, but I just knew he still had that smug look on his face.

"My brother." Daryl continued. "Ya killed 'im. Big-mouthed redneck with a metal hand. Ya remember 'im?"

"I remember him alright. Ugly-looking thing. Came with a pretty little blonde girl. They screamed like little bitches when I had them over the trough. Crying for their mummies."

"Beth?" Daryl directed at me, surprised, flicking his gaze to meet mine for just a second before focusing on Gareth again. "My brother don't scream for no-one."

He dragged his blade across Gareth's throat slowly, relishing in his agony. It was at odds with the Daryl I knew, but I understood why he did it. I dropped the limp body to the floor, giving it a hard kick to the guts despite knowing he was already dead.

My head swam.

Merle was there with Beth? Had he rescued her? How? Did this mean she was dead, too? How would we tell Hershel?

"You got 'em." I whispered to Daryl as I pulled him into a hug, not bothering to try and dodge the fresh blood coating him. I knew this didn't make up for his brother being gone, but hopefully it felt like some sort of vigilante justice for him.

When I pulled back. I was baffled to see him looking amused. I threw him a suspicious glare.

"Merle doesn't scream for no-one." He smiled.

I could tell what he was getting at.

"Daryl, I don't want to-" I started, before he interrupted me.

"Nah. Merle woulda fought 'til the end. He might still be out there. Beth too. It's possible ain't it?"

Carol and I exchanged worried glances. I took a second. "Yes."

I don't know if I believed it, but if having hope made him feel better, I wasn't going to dash that.

"I need a drink." Carol announced as we set off back to the church.

"Me too." I replied. "Reckon Father Gabriel has a stash of communion wine?"

"Let's find out." Daryl said, taking my hand and linking Carol's arm simultaneously.

~

The last thing I expected to feel in an abandoned church during the apocalypse was drunk.

But here we were.

Father Gabriel hadn't protested when Daryl, Carol and I had returned and demanded he reveal the location of his wine stash.

Rick had been the one to pop the first bottle, holding it up like he was presenting the damn Holy Grail. "If God didn't want us drinkin' it, He wouldn't have left it here," he'd said with a smirk, and after the hell we'd all been through at Terminus, no one argued.

At first, we'd been cautious, sipping the wine like it was some rare delicacy - then it just kind of... snowballed.

Now, many bottles deep, our group was sprawled across the pews and the pulpit, laughing like we didn't have walkers scratching at the edges of our world.

Maggie and Glenn sat on the altar steps, heads tilted together, giggling over some inside joke. Abraham was perched on the edge of a pew, loudly recounting some absurd army story, and Tara - completely shitfaced - kept leaning over to poke Rosita's cheek, claiming she was "too pretty to be real." Carol sat beside Rick, sipping from a goblet she'd stolen off the altar, her eyes bright with amusement.

Daryl was beside me, sprawled against the back of a pew, legs spread wide like he owned the place. His cheeks were flushed, his head tipped back against the wood, and his grin - God, that grin - was the kind I barely ever saw.

"Y'all remember when we used to be normal?" I slurred, stretching out beside him, nursing my own goblet.

"Were any of us ever normal?" Michonne asked, raising an eyebrow from across the room.

"Maybe Glenn," I said. "But the rest of us? We were doomed before the world ended."

Glenn pointed at me with his goblet. "Hey, I was weird when I met you guys. I just hid it better."

"I can confirm," Maggie added. "He's a complete freak."

"Hey!" Glenn feigned offence.

Eugene, of all people, decided it was a good time to stand on the pew and clear his throat.

"I am of the belief," he announced, swaying slightly, "that I am currently the most sober among us."

That was a goddamn lie.

"You just fell off the pulpit five minutes ago," Rosita said, giving him an unimpressed look.

"A tactical miscalculation," he replied.

"We gotta do somethin' fun," Tara slurred, half draped over Michonne. "Like a game. Truth or dare. Strip poker. Sword fights." She lifted a spoon she'd been using to scoop wine straight from the bottle. "Duel me, Michonne!"

Michonne laughed, pushing her face away. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"I will die with honor."

"Not on my watch," Abraham declared, stepping in to confiscate the spoon. "You're cut off, soldier."

Tara groaned, flopping onto Rosita's lap.

"Okay, okay, game time," Maggie said, straightening. "We play Never Have I Ever."

That got some cheers, but I felt a pang of sadness. That's what I'd played with Merle and Beth at the shack.

We'd decided not to mention Gareth's claim about what could have been Beth to Hershel or Maggie. Not yet.

I pushed the thoughts from my mind. Tonight we were having fun.

Glenn smirked. "Never have I ever... stolen something before the world went to shit."

Maggie sipped immediately. So did Rosita. Carol lifted her goblet with zero shame.

Rick took a slow drink, eyes narrowing at Carol. "Should I be worried about that?"

Carol shrugged. "You ever been a bored housewife?"

Rick thought about it for a second, then took another sip.

"Alright," Abraham said, cracking his neck. "Never have I ever... been to an orgy."

Silence.

Then Tara, smirking, raised her glass and took a sip.

The room erupted.

Rosita nearly spat out her drink. Glenn started clapping. Even Rick looked half-impressed.

Tara just grinned. "College was wild, man."

Daryl groaned, muttering, "Jesus Christ."

I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe.

Hershel, despite being the oldest and theoretically the wisest among us, was absolutely drunk, despite being sober for many years.

He sat in one of the pews, cradling a goblet of wine like it was a fine whiskey, a contented smile on his face. His cheeks were flushed, and his normally steady voice was just a little looser around the edges.

"You know," he mused, stroking his beard, "I used to think drinkin' was the devil's work."

Rick, red-faced and grinning, clapped him on the shoulder. "And what do you think now?"

Hershel took a slow, exaggerated sip, smacked his lips, and nodded. "I think the devil's got pretty damn good taste."

At some point, Sasha had propped herself up on the altar, attempting to tell some kind of joke, but she kept getting distracted by her own laughter.

"So - so, okay," she wheezed, trying to catch her breath. "Why - why don't walkers ever eat clowns?"

Michonne smirked. "Why?"

Sasha giggled so hard she had to take a breath before answering. "Because - they taste funny."

Absolute silence.

Tyreese groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. "Sasha, I swear to God..."

She burst out laughing again, doubling over.

Tyreese shook his head, looking up like he was asking for patience. "This is why you don't get to do stand-up, Sash."

She dramatically wiped a tear from her eye. "You're just jealous of my comedic genius."

"Nah," Tyreese grumbled, tipping back his drink. "I'm jealous that Hershel's funnier than you."

Hershel raised his goblet. "Damn right I am."

Somewhere along the line, Abraham had decided we needed music, so he and Tara had taken it upon themselves to teach Father Gabriel's ancient record player a lesson in perseverance, despite the preacher's concerns about using the generator so frivolously. After a lot of swearing and threats of violence, it finally sputtered to life, crackling out some old gospel tune.

That's when Carl, the only sober one in the room, stood up and started belting the lyrics - off-key as hell, but with conviction.

It was a chain reaction after that.

Rosita and Maggie swayed together, laughing as they tried to harmonize. Rick started tapping his fingers against the pew like he was keeping rhythm. Even Eugene mumbled along, his Southern drawl turning the words into something vaguely resembling English.

How little Judith managed to sleep through the racket was beyond me...

"Sing, Dixon," I teased, nudging Daryl's side.

He scoffed. "No way."

"Oh, come on," I pouted, pressing into him. "Sing me a love song."

Daryl snorted. "Don't know no damn love songs."

"Oh, bullshit. You know one."

He rolled his eyes, looking away - but there was a smirk playing at his lips.

I nudged him again. "What about Jolene? I bet you'd sound real pretty singin' Jolene."

That got a laugh out of him, low and warm. "Ain't no way in hell I'm singin' Dolly Parton."

I gasped dramatically. "Blasphemy. In God's house?"

Daryl just shook his head, grinning.

Our fingers were tangled together, his thumb rubbing slow circles against my palm.

Out of nowhere, he lifted Merle's necklace from around his neck, holding it up between us.

"You're wearing it?" I realised, reaching out and touching the chain.

"Yeah. Daryl exhaled, twisting the rings between his fingers. "These were my grandparents'. Merle took 'em after they died. Said he was savin' 'em for when he got married."

I snorted. "Merle? Married?"

Daryl chuckled. "That's what I said." He was quiet for a second, then flicked his eyes toward me. "Ya ever think about it?"

"Huh?" I slurred, confused.

"Marriage?" he mumbled, almost sheepish.

I swallowed. "I mean. I dunno. Not really. You?"

Daryl hesitated, then shrugged. "Ain't never thought I'd live long enough for it to matter."

My chest ached. I squeezed his hand.

"Still," he murmured, voice low. "If things were different..."

I suddenly felt very warm. "If things were different, I'd let you sing Jolene at our wedding."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head at the fact he'd brought up the insane topic. "Shit, we're drunk."

Before I could say anything else, Tara stumbled past us, dragging Michonne in an off-kilter waltz.

"This is my wife now!" Tara declared, dramatically dipping her. "We're gettin' married!"

Michonne just cackled, letting it happen.

That broke the moment, and I couldn't help but grin as Daryl groaned. "Holy shit."

At some point, Father Gabriel - who had initially looked horrified by our little sacrilegious gathering - somehow ended up just as drunk as the rest of us.

He was currently standing on the altar beside Carol, swaying slightly, clutching an empty bottle like a sermon prop.

"Brothers and sisters," he slurred, gesturing wildly. "The Lord... the Lord works in mysterious ways."

"Oh, here we go," Abraham muttered, tipping back his goblet.

Gabriel squinted at him. "And who are we... to question His divine plan?"

"I'd like to question why we didn't start drinking sooner," Tara added, flopping back down by Rosita.

Gabriel pointed at her, dead serious. "Tara... that is an excellent question."

Carol, sipping from her goblet, smirked at him. "Y'know, Gabriel, I gotta say - I did not expect you to be a fun drunk."

Gabriel gasped, clutching his chest. "I am fun."

"Prove it," I challenged. "Do a cartwheel."

That sent the whole room into chaos.

Rick was doubled over laughing. Carl was egging him on. Michonne actually looked interested.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "I could," he said, pointing dramatically. "But I won't."

"Coward," Tara declared.

Instead of answering, Gabriel grabbed another goblet and downed it in one go - then immediately turned green.

"Oh no," Glenn muttered, standing. "Oh no."

Rick grabbed his arm. "Somebody get a bucket."

Gabriel wobbled, clutching his stomach.

"...I regret nothing," he whispered.

Then he bolted for the vestry.

The chaos didn't stop with Gabriel almost hurling on the altar.

Things truly went off the rails.

Abraham and Rick had started an arm-wrestling match , both of them red-faced and growling like feral animals while the rest of us cheered them on.

Carl had somehow convinced Eugene to do a "dramatic action roll" across the floor, which ended with Eugene smacking straight into a pew and groaning, "I regret everything."

Tara had stolen Father Gabriel's robe, wrapped herself in it like a royal cloak, and was now marching up and down the church, holding an empty wine bottle like a scepter.

"Bow before your holy queen!" she slurred, dramatically tossing her arm out.

Glenn, lying on his back, lazily raised his goblet in salute. "Long live the queen."

Hershel, watching all of this with mild amusement, muttered, "I used to run a respectable farm."

I don't know what got into me - whether it was the wine, the music, or just the wild energy in the air - but for some reason, I climbed onto a pew and declared, "I'm gonna do a backflip."

Daryl's head snapped toward me. "The hell ya are."

"Yes, I am."

"No, ya ain't."

"Yes. I. Am."

The whole group immediately got involved.

"Let her try!" Tara yelled.

"No!" Daryl barked at the same time.

I grinned down at him. "What's wrong, Dixon? Don't believe in me?"

"I believe in ya not breakin' yur damn neck," he muttered, standing up and grabbing my waist before I could do anything stupid.

"Boo!" Tara called.

"Boo, safety!" Abraham added.

Rick, still breathless from arm wrestling, smirked. "I don't know, Daryl - she seems determined."

"She's drunk," Daryl grumbled, still holding onto me like I was about to swan-dive straight onto the floor.

I just grinned and leaned in close. "You're worried about me?"

His grip tightened. "I know yur doin' this just to mess with me."

I tilted my head, batting my eyelashes. "Is it workin'?"

Daryl stared at me for a long second, then groaned, let go of my waist, and muttered, "Goddamn it."

I cackled in victory and threw my arms in the air. "I win!"

I did, in fact, do a backflip. Somehow, despite not attempting one for years and also being very intoxicated. I landed it successfully. My stunt gaining cheers from the group as I curtsied ungracefully.

Afterward, Tara and Rosita decided to see who could do the best "sexy communion goblet pose," which mostly involved them sprawled dramatically across the pews while Maggie and Michonne heckled them.

"I call this one The Last Sip," Tara announced, draping herself over the pulpit like she was fainting, her goblet held high.

Rosita scoffed. "Weak. Watch and learn."

Then she attempted to climb onto the altar, lost her balance, and face-planted straight into Abraham's lap.

"Shit," he grunted, nearly spilling his drink. "Y'know, if ya wanted a close-up, you coulda just asked."

Rick, clearly drunk but still pretending he wasn't, pointed at the whole mess and grinned at Michonne. "We used to be respectable people."

Michonne arched an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself."

Meanwhile, Carl was trying (and failing) to teach Eugene how to "look cool" while holding a gun, which mostly involved Eugene awkwardly mimicking his stance while Tara laughed so hard she almost fell off the pew.

Eugene squinted at the imaginary target. "How's this?"

"Like you're about to write a very aggressive Yelp review," Tara wheezed.

Carol was feeling competitive, betting Rick she could balance a communion wafer on her nose for an entire minute.

She did it.

Rick owed her a knife.

And then, just when I thought things couldn't get any more ridiculous, Glenn stood up, clapped his hands together, and declared:

"Drunken push-up contest. Right here. Right now."

Daryl groaned beside me. "For fuck's sake."

But I was already grinning. "You should do it."

Daryl shot me a look. "Ain't no way I'm makin' an ass of myself."

And that was exactly when Tara yelled, "Dixon's too scared!"

Daryl sighed, drained the rest of his wine, and dropped down into a push-up position.

I swear to God, the whole room fancied him in that moment.

Seeing his bulging arms tense as he pressed his body up and down got me hot under the collar.

"Hey," I murmured, leaning over him, spilling some of my wine in the process. "Wanna do somethin' real bad?"

Daryl's eyes flicked to mine, dark and knowing. "What kinda bad?"

I grinned. "Meet me in Gabriel's office in five minutes." I was on my feet and moving before he could respond.

I slipped through the door, my pulse drumming in my throat. I barely had time to take in my surroundings before Daryl was there, pressing me against the desk with a smirk.

"Five minutes?" he murmured, voice gravelly, "Too long."

I grinned against his lips. "Door locked?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

His mouth was on mine, hungry and eager, tasting of wine and smoke.

His hands slid down my sides, gripping my hips as he lifted me onto the desk. I wrapped my legs around him, tugging him closer, heat coiling low in my stomach.

"Shit," he muttered, lips grazing my jaw. "Ain't supposed to be doin' this here."

I tilted my head back, breathless. "You wanna stop?"

The way he slid his hands up my thighs spoke for itself as a resounding no.

The office smelled like old paper and incense, but all I could focus on was the heat of him - the way his hands gripped my waist, the way his lips traced my jaw, the way he pulled me flush against him like he couldn't get me close enough.

Outside, our friends were singing and laughing, the record player crackling out some old gospel hymn again.

But in here - it was just us.

I tugged at his shirt, needing to see more of him. He pulled it off, instantly peeling mine away from my chest. We took our own pants and shoes off, me nearly falling off the desk in the process. Daryl stepped back, eyes tracing my body as I sat before him in my underwear.

"How did this happen?" he asked quietly.

"Well, I said meet me in the-"

"No." He cut off my sarcastic reply. "You. Sittin' there like that in front'a someone like me?"

"Someone like you?" I questioned, eyes trained on him, as I pulled him closer again by the waistband of his boxers.

He looked shy. "Yeah."

"Daryl Dixon. You are the sexiest man on the damn planet. In the universe, even."

He scoffed, but with a smile.

"I'm serious." I continued. "I can't get enough of you. Just look at you." I ran my hands down his chiselled arms. "You're gorgeous. And you're also brave, and sweet, and I love you. That's how."

He cupped my face. "I love ya, too, Ath. So much."

"Good, now take your underwear off."

"Should we be doin' this after ya drinkin' so much?"

"Underwear!" I demanded.

He obliged, pulling off his boxers while I removed my bra, lifting myself up on my hands so he could slide my underwear down my legs. He did it slowly, savouring the reveal.

I looked at him, taking in his toned body. He looked like an Adonis. Every inch of him solid muscle, crafted from a life of survival.

"I wonder too, you know." I admitted as he kissed my neck, his tongue creating sensual patterns on the delicate skin, his hands exploring me.

"Mhmh?" he grunted, pulling back slightly.

"How I got you..."

"Ya really are drunk."

"Yes. But that's not why I'm saying it. I feel lucky every day that you chose me. Honestly."

His eyes softened, disbelief visible in them.

I pulled him back towards me, pushing his mouth to my neck again. "I fucking adore you."

His mouth worked overtime, earning gasps of delight from me. He worked his way down, his tongue circling my nipples.

"Lower." I commanded, trying to sound authoritative, but giggling at the same time.

His lips moved to my stomach, kissing every inch of me on the way down.

"Please, lower." I breathed, unable to control the need inside of me.

He rested his rough hands on my thighs, before lapping his tongue gently against the most sensitive part of me. I laid back on the desk, my body rippling in bliss.

I couldn't handle it. The sensation, coupled with the simple fact that Daryl Dixon had his head between my legs for the first time, was too much to bear.

"Daryl," I breathed as I accepted that I couldn't stop it from happening already. "Oh my God."

The incredible orgasm that coursed through me made my entire body shake. It also made me scream involuntarily... I thanked the lord for the terrible music that was still booming through the record player outside - not that I could have cared in that moment if it hadn't been.

Daryl reached down to the floor for his pants, pulling out our last condom. He slipped it on, and his mouth was instantly back on mine, hard. I panted into his, still trying to regain my composure after being sent momentarily to another planet of pleasure.

I reached for him, and he growled as I touched his huge, sheathed manhood. I hooked a leg around him and raised my hips to meet his, pulling him inside of me.

"Fuck." He groaned. "Ath... Fuck."

He began moving inside of me, thrusting rhythmically as he stood beside the desk I laid on. His gaze flitted over my stomach, my chest, before he found my eyes.

I pushed against him, silently giving him permission to move faster, harder. Every time we'd been together before had been slow, sensual, incredible, but now I craved the feeling of him losing all control within my body.

"You won't hurt me." I told him, knowing that he was holding back. "Harder."

He let himself go, pounding into me with thrusts that made me cry out in pleasure. The noises coming from me sounded less human the longer he drove into me.

The growling in his chest only turned me on more, and I began to lose autonomy over my body again. I pushed myself against him, the friction against my sweet spot feeling incredible, as I knew my second, ridiculously intense orgasm of the night was approaching.

"Please don't stop." I breathed as it arrived, waves of pleasure rushing over me. "Daryl. God. Jesus. Oh my God. Daryl."

He found his release at the same time, looking deep into my eyes and moaning my name over and over as his body spasmed with euphoria. He collapsed over me, his top half pressing mine into the desk as he struggled to control his breathing. I wrapped my arms around him. His hair was damp with sweat, as was his skin.

"Yur incredible." He mumbled, his voice muffled. "I wonder if God and Jesus heard yur prayers."

I cackled loudly, realising the irony of how many times I'd said their names while we fucked in the office of a church.

"Nah." I breathed, stroking his hair. "My prayers have already been answered."

He looked up, a gorgeous smile on his face, and pressed his lips to mine.

"We better go back out." He sighed. "Who knows what they're getting up to now?"

"We should." I agreed, reluctantly releasing my grip on him.

We dressed quickly, Daryl pulling me in for one last kiss before swinging open the office door.

"WAHEYYYY!!!" almost the whole group roared collectively as we re-emerged.

Daryl and I both blushed.

Michonne clamped her hands over Carl's eyes.

Father Gabriel, still cradling his sick bucket, shook his head disapprovingly.

"Our turn!" A hammered Maggie announced, dragging Glenn to his feet and in the direction of the office, tripping over her own shoes in the process.

Hershel's head dropped to his hands.

"I think it's time for bed."

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. I loved being able to write a carefree (drunk) version of the characters just being silly.

I'd love to know your thoughts!