“What’re you doin’?” Daryl asked, voice soft and gravelly.
Carol jumped, dropping his clothes and blushing, “sorry! I was just- I- I think some of my laundry got mixed with yours,” she fumbled through her words, eyes wide and hands moving awkwardly as she explained.
She knew they were in there somewhere, having checked her laundry and finding some of his shirts there and some of hers missing. She put two and two together and realized she must have mixed their clothes together on accident after she washed them.
She had taken her shirts and socks already, finding them fairly quickly. His clothes we’re all pretty much the same color- unlike hers. She found a few more of her items, but continued to dig her hands through the bundled pieces of fabric, knowing she was still missing something.
“That it?” He asked, scratching at his chin. His arms folded as he watched her sigh and stop digging through the pile on the floor.
“I think so? I’m not sure,” she said before a thought crossed her mind. She looked through her stuff she had already grabbed, not seeing what she hoped she’d already found, already knowing they weren’t in her cell.
She quickly continued rummaging, and Daryl only waiting so long before moving passed her and into his cell “I think you got it all… but how ‘bout if I see any a your shit later, I’ll bring it to you.”
Carol’s eyes widened and she cringed, “no! No- it’s- I can keep looking.”
Daryl frowned and sighed with slight annoyance, “I need t'get changed. Got watch soon and this shits gettin’ gross,” he grimaced, pulling at the shirt he had on.
Carol scanned his floor once more and made a face before she stood up, her few articles of clothing bunched up in her arms. She walked out of his cell, her anxiety tearing at her.
Daryl sat on his bed with a groan, his sore muscles aching. He stretched his shoulders and leaned over, grabbing at the first clean shirt he saw on his floor. He pulled his dirty shirt over his head, grunting slightly as he did so. As he went to put his head through the freshly washed shirt, he saw a colorful piece of fabric stuck to the inside of it. “What the…”
He pinched the edge of the odd fabric, pulling it from his clothing and holding it up. He inspected it for a moment before unraveling it. His eyebrows scrunched up before shooting toward his hairline. Why the fuck did he have lacy panties in his… oh, god. Carol.
He grabbed the fabric, bundling it back up before walking out of his cell. What was he supposed to say when he returned them? He paused a few feet from her cell, thinking of possible ways to do this, cringing at every scenario.
He decided to go with the easiest way to not embarrass himself, breathing in deeply before stepping towards her door. He pulled the curtains aside and quickly tossed the panties into her cell, speed walking away and hoping she didn’t notice.
He was almost to his cell when he heard the dreaded sound of her curtains being thrown aside. “Did you just throw these at my face?”
Daryl turned around and shrugged, not looking at her. “Sorry…”
Carol almost laughed at his facial expression. Almost. She would have had she not had the exact same look on her face.
“That what you were lookin’ for?” He said, finally breaking the silence. Carol pursed her lips and nodded, shyly looking at the ground.
Daryl chewed his lip a moment before finally asking; “why you got those? Can’t be comfortable.”
Carol chuckled, feeling some of the awkward tension fade, “I don’t know… something different? I guess?” She smirked at him, “I have a few more I haven’t worn in case you wanted to borrow some,” she teased.
He scoffed, ignoring her comment and trying to keep his thoughts PG. He silently cursed himself at his next words, immediately regretting the question. “Wear them often?”
“Why? Did you wanna see?” She said in a sweet sarcastic voice, raising an eyebrow suggestively and grinning.
“Stop,” he said gruffly, looking anywhere but her before returning to his cell. Shit.
