a/n: writer's block is killing me. KILLING ME. But here's a thing! A little Friday Night Lights AU, title taken from the song of the same name by Explosions in the Sky. Heads up though, trigger warning for (attempted) sexual assault. But I hope you enjoy! xx
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The thing is, Daryl Dixon didn't sign up to have a rally girl.
And he certainly didn't sign up for Beth Greene.
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"You act like you've never had one," Shane rolls his eyes, "I don't see what the big deal is."
That's the thing about Shane. He doesn't. He's all about the perks of being a high school football star. Doesn't see the consequences.
Maybe Rick does. Rick, with his long-term cheerleader girlfriend. Rick, who has his eyes on state, who has his eyes on college, who has his eyes so firmly on the future that he doesn't even blink twice at this life they live. And that's easy.
Unless your rally girl is Beth Greene.
Who comes up to your locker with a Tupperware container of brownies and a folder of English lit notes. Who smiles brighter than the lights on game day.
Who makes him momentarily forget how to breathe.
"Ain't about having one," Daryl grumbles, "more about who it is."
"You don't like Beth Greene?" Shane's confused now. Of course he is. "I'll trade if it's that much of an issue…"
"Pretty sure big brother would veto that," Rick grins, glancing across the locker room at their captain, and quarterback, Shawn Greene, talking with the coach.
Yeah. That's another problem entirely.
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When he first signed up for the team, he wasn't after high school fame and glory. Hell, he wasn't after college opportunities.
He was a Dixon. And sure, Dixon's are pieces of shit, but they are an integral part of this town's football history.
Maybe if Merle had managed to stay out of juvie, he would have made it to state.
But his dad did. And the only time he sees the bastard somewhat sober is on game day. Bragging to everyone that will listen how proud he is of his boy.
Can't have been that proud when he took the belt to him. Can't have been that proud when he shouted himself hoarse with abuse.
Can't have been that proud when he told his eight-year-old son to toughen up after his mother died.
Dixon's are pieces of shit, but Will Dixon is the worst. And everyone knows that Daryl lives with his brother on the other side of town.
Has its perks and downfalls, like anything else.
Like when Merle makes him throw parties, where he spends the night peddling drugs and flirting with high school girls. When he goads Daryl into fucking one of them. When he taunts him into drinking so much that he passes out.
Shane thinks it's all a laugh, dubs it the party house, like the bottles and cans lining the windowsills, and posters of naked women are some kind of aesthetic to aspire to. Like the worn pool table in place of a dining table, and bra-shaped ashtray is the mark of the ultimate bachelor lifestyle.
Daryl tried out because it was expected of him. And he was selected because it was a given.
It's like everything in his life is pre-determined.
And he resents all of it.
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"Did you like the brownies?"
She's standing there, by his locker; construction paper cut outs in one hand, and a roll of tape in the other. He squints to look at them closer. It's his number and judging by the D and X he can see, it's the letters of his last name.
Beth Greene is decorating his fucking locker.
"I asked Shawn and he said you like chocolate…well, he said he'd seen you eat chocolate once, so I didn't have a lot to go on-"
"They were good," he interrupts. He reaches into his duffle bag, pulls out the container that Merle had called him a pussy for washing himself, "here."
"Oh," she looks almost surprised, "thank you."
"You don't gotta do all this shit," he fixes her with a stare, "you can leave me alone, if ya want. Girl I had last season did."
"Yeah, Rosita?" Beth asks, and he confirms with a sharp nod, "she warned me about you, you know."
"Doesn't look like you listened," Daryl notes, glancing across the crowded hallway, wishing the bell would ring.
"I'll crack you one day, Daryl Dixon," she smile, confident, "and then once the season is over, you'll miss me so bad."
"That what you think, girl?"
Beth Greene is like sunshine.
"That's what I know."
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The baked treats continue, much to Merle's amusement.
"Ain't a lazy bitch like the last one," he comments, mouth full of snicker doodles, "she as sweet as these cookies, baby brother?"
"Fuck off, Merle," Daryl mutters, throwing his beer can in the rubbish bin.
"Gotta get a taste, Darylina," Merle taunts, "or you too pussy to try?"
Moments like these, it's better not to respond. Better not to say anything, do anything, give Merle any sort of indication that he's heard him. Instead, he grabs his duffel bag, glances at the clock and sighs.
"I'm going to Rick's for dinner."
"Gonna have sleepover too?"
Merle's words sting, but he sighs.
"Whatever, Merle. Have a good night."
He's out the door and on his bike before he can hear another word.
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"At least you have a rally girl," Rick shrugs, punching buttons repeatedly on the controller, "Lori all but threatened to dismember the one I had. So while you guys enjoy your cakes, Lori is making me eat fruit salad and shit. Says I have to watch my cholesterol. At eighteen! It's ridiculous!"
Daryl sighs. Something had shifted over the summer, between Rick and Lori. He went to a football camp a few states over and when he came back she was distant. Grilled Daryl about it, but he spent the summer working at the local garage and avoiding everyone.
(There were a couple of parties, sure. And there was Lori, cozying up to Shane. But they'd always been friends, and he didn't think much of it.
At the time.)
Used to be all that Rick would talk about was marrying the girl. Now all he does is complain.
"Shawn's party is this weekend," Rick notes, sighing, "I was going to invite Lori, but she didn't seem too keen."
Shawn's parties are an obligation, really. The Greene's invite the coaching staff, teachers, and the boosters, so his attendance is more mandatory than anything else.
But Beth Greene will be there.
(Shut up.)
"Shane's having an after party," Rick notes, "Maybe she'll just want to meet there?"
Daryl's not about to give his friend dating advice when he's never dated anyone himself. Hell, he's not in a position to give him advice about anything, really.
So instead he just shrugs and Rick nods.
"Yeah, I think I'll just meet her at Shane's."
Daryl's character dies and he tosses his controller to the side with a huff.
Good talk.
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He feels out of place at the stupid party.
His mind is stuck on the previous game, on the ache in his shoulder, on the way that Beth Greene came up to him, after, full of concern, and touching him too much for his liking.
Okay, maybe he liked it the right amount.
Daryl stands on the outskirts, sipping sweet tea and hoping that none of the boosters come up and try to talk to him.
He almost lasts the night. But then he sees a woman, wearing a blue sundress and floral headscarf, struggling with a couple of trays.
And he helps her.
(In his mind, Merle is calling him a sucker.)
"Thanks hon," the woman smiles warmly, as he takes one of the trays, placing it on a nearby table, "you don't mind helping me with a couple others, do you?"
"No ma'am," Daryl ducks his head, and finds himself trailing after her towards the main house, following her into the kitchen.
And nearly knocks over Beth Greene in the process.
"Bethy!" the woman scolds her gently, "You have to slow down, girl."
"Sorry mama," she blushes, not really meeting his eye line.
"Can you show…"
"Daryl," he clears his throat, "Daryl Dixon, ma'am."
"…Daryl to the basement? We need more ice for outside."
"Yes mama," Beth nods, motioning him to follow her. Leads her through the house to a small staircase. At the bottom there's a laundry area, and an extra fridge and chest freezer. It's half renovated, and he notes that the Greene children must use the space as a rec room, judging by the couches and flat screen television over in the carpeted side of the room.
"Sorry you got roped into helping," Beth apologises, "Shawn was supposed to, but he's always talking to boosters and other 'important' people."
She uses air quote here, and he can't help but smirk.
"It's alright," he shrugs, "better being in here than havin' to talk to people out there."
She smiles brightly, handing him a bag of ice while she grabs another.
"Are you going to Shane's party later?"
"Guess so," he shrugs. Like he has a choice in the matter.
"Don't."
He freezes, and a feeling of uncertainty washes over him. Spares her a glance, takes in her boots and pretty yellow dress and loose curls and his stomach tightens.
"Meet me by the barn after the party," she says softly, "I want to show you something."
He nods like he has a choice in the matter.
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It's dark, when the party winds up. Around nine, he'd guess. He doesn't dare to check his phone. Doesn't want the light from the display to alert anyone to his location.
He doesn't know what he's doing. Not really. Knows on some level he'd do anything Beth Greene would ask him. And hell, it isn't like he really wanted to go to Shane's in the first place.
"Hey," a voice behind him interrupts his thoughts. He turns quickly.
Beth has a denim jacket pulled tight across her shoulders. She's thrown her hair up into a ponytail.
"Where you wanna go?"
"Ya got your bike?" she asks and he nods, "good. Just follow my lead."
A given really, he thinks, as Beth Greene yells directions over the roar of the bike. Finds himself maybe five minutes down the road, in front of a dirt track. She dismounts shakily, and grabs a small flashlight from her pocket and leads him down a small, manmade path.
"This isn't daddy's land," she whispers, "but it's a friend of the family who said we can come down here whenever we want. We've been coming here since we were kids."
Here is a small creek, surrounded by low, overhanging trees. He imagines all the times she's been here - as a kid, with her siblings, by herself. Imagines the times she's snuck out after dark, and something in him aches, thinking of this girl sitting here, alone.
"We used to come here a lot as kids," Beth confides in him quietly, "but then Maggie left for school and Shawn joined the team. So it's just me, really."
He gets it. He does. He knows how last year was a tough one for the Greene's. Knows how Annette Greene was fighting for her life. Knows how Shawn was the one trying to keep his family together.
Just as he knows that the reason that they lost the final playoff for state was because their star quarterback was sitting in the ER for most of the game.
Because Beth Greene tried to kill herself.
But they don't speak of that.
"Sometimes it's hard living in this town," she says softly, "it's like, our lives are already set in stone, you know?"
Of course he knows. Being a Dixon, how can he not?
"Yeah," he mutters, "yeah I know."
Her hand finds his in the darkness. And he takes it in his, holding it tight.
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It's not like they're dating or anything.
Right?
So he holds a girl's hand in the moonlight? Doesn't mean they're engaged to be engaged.
Doesn't mean shit.
So why does it feel like it does?
He half expects to hear whispering in the halls, half expects her to look at him like some girl in love. But she smiles at him the same as before, talks to him as though nothing's changed. Gives him geography notes and baked goods and decorates his locker.
He should be okay with that. It should be fine.
So why isn't it?
He could talk to Rick about it, but the guy is currently all moody over Lori. Shane's out, his advice would hardly be a step up from Merle's.
Then there's Aaron.
Aaron, who isn't on the team. Who runs track, is on yearbook and definitely doesn't run in his circles.
But is sort of his best friend.
"You should ask her out," is Aaron's advice, as they're leaving shop class. It's straight forward, to the point, and thankfully, doesn't ask him about his feelings.
"Seriously?"
"Why not, man?" Aaron shrugs, "Beth Greene is a nice girl. You don't think you deserve a nice girl?"
Deserve. Daryl doesn't think he's ever used the word 'deserve' in his life. And certainly not about himself.
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Friday night is all about the bright lights and screaming fans and the adrenaline, pumping through his veins. It's about the coach, shouting this is our time, it's about taking hit after hit, fuelled by anger and determination. It's about finding Beth after the game.
It's about her arms around his neck. It's about his lips pressed to hers.
It's about her kissing him back.
"There's a party tonight," he murmurs, "at my place."
"I'll just let my parents know," she smiles, "I guess I'll meet you there?"
"Yeah," Daryl nods, "I guess so."
He's anxious during the short ride to his place. Anxious, as people arrive and Merle pushes a beer into his hand and the reason behind his anxiety hits him like a brick wall.
His brother is an asshole.
And he's about to meet Beth.
"Hey man, you got a sec?"
It's Shawn Greene.
"Yeah," Daryl nods, "sure."
Thing about Shawn Greene, sure he's his captain and teammate and they're friendly, but they're not friends. Don't have much in common aside from football and, well, now Beth.
"Look, you and Beth…"
He bristles, preparing himself for the accusation, for the threat. Stay away from my kid sister, he can hear it now, can see all the ways he's going to punish himself for wanting her later.
"I just want her to be happy, ya know?"
Daryl was expecting a lot of things, but he wasn't expecting Shawn Greene to say that.
"I dropped the ball last fall, man," Shawn shakes his head, "I was so caught up in the team and my mom, that I took my eye off Beth. I regret a lot of things, but missing that game was not one of them. I'd go back in time and miss every single game if I could. That's how much my baby sister means to me."
Daryl nods, slowly, absorbing Shawn's words.
"If you're gonna date Beth, then she's gotta mean that much to you too."
Daryl sips his beer and thinks about that until he sees Beth walk through the sliding door into his back yard.
And he thinks that she easily could.
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Small towns like his thrive on football and gossip.
Will Dixon's son dating Hershel Greene's daughter? People are sure as hell gonna talk about that.
It's easy to ignore them. Easy, because she makes him not give a fuck what they think. Sucks him into her happy, sunshine bubble, where everything is good and nothing hurts and suddenly he's studying with her after training and going to her daddy's farm for dinner and hanging out with her eccentric group of friends at the local diner.
Daryl Dixon. Troubled youth. Star fullback. Beth Greene's boyfriend.
Hard to believe that it's his reality.
Aaron likes her friends more than he's ever liked Daryl's. Could never stand Shane and kind of just tolerated Rick, but when it's Beth's friends, Noah and Eric and Tara, he gladly accepts invitations to hang out. Talks about starting a band, going camping, and even suggests planning a road trip over the summer in the van Daryl's helping him fix up.
They were a couple of loners, really. Now they have a group of friends.
Beth introduces him to frozen yoghurt and Mario kart and helps him ace calculus. Plays him songs on her guitar. Is nice to Merle, though he didn't expect anything different.
(It was Merle, on his best behaviour that was the surprise.)
She kisses him like he's made of glass, tentative and gentle and he's the one telling her that he's not gonna break, a look of wry amusement written across his face. And then he kisses her like she holds his last breath, like she is his last breath. Like he wouldn't mind if he never breathed again.
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"You fucked her yet?"
Daryl shoots his brother a sharp look. Shut the fuck up, Merle, is on the tip of his tongue, but she's currently asleep in his lap, as some shitty horror movie plays in the background.
"Ain't like that."
"Ya sure, Darylina?" Merle grins, "her head looks mighty comfortable being so close to little Daryl there."
Daryl rolls his eyes, focusing his attention back to the screen.
"She's a virgin, ain't she?" Merle's eyes light up like he's made some kind of scientific discovery, "Good girl like that, she's probably saving herself until marriage. And you're just playing along until she's in love with you instead of Jesus and spreads those pretty little legs-"
"It ain't a fucking game, Merle," Daryl growls, keeping his voice low so not to wake Beth, "I ain't playin' nothin'."
"What, you love her or something?" Merle says meanly, and at Daryl's silence, his eyes narrow, "Holy fuck, you are, aren't you baby brother?"
"Shut up, Merle."
It should be the end of it. Both brother's continue watching the movie, only tearing their eyes away when Beth shifts in her sleep, whimpering a little until Daryl brings his hand down to softly stroke her hair.
An act that certainly does not go unnoticed.
"You were always the sweet one, Daryl," Merle murmurs quietly, and there's nothing mean, nothing cruel in his voice. There's wonder. And there's truth.
And when he looks down at the sleeping girl in his lap, her eyes flutter open and she smiles.
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The thing about Annette Greene?
She loves football. Loves it.
On game days she goes full out, face paint and banners. Organises all kinds of fundraisers for the team. She's always in town, heading to or from some kind of meeting.
She was like that before the cancer, and according to Beth, she's a hundred times more involved now.
He learns that the hard way, the first time he goes to the farm for Sunday night dinner, expecting to be interrogated about his intentions, but is instead interrogated about his stats for the their last three games.
By the end of the night, he thinks he would have rather sat through some kind of vaguely threatening speech.
"It's Shawn's last year," Beth explains, as she walks him to his bike, "she couldn't be as involved last season, so I think she's trying to make up for it."
"I'm sure Shawn understands," Daryl notes with a shrug and Beth smiles lightly.
"Oh, he loves it," she jokes, "but it's better than the alternative."
(They don't speak about the alternative.)
"Mama loves you," Beth grins, "thinks you're a bit rough around the edges, but so polite. And Daddy just likes that you have me home before curfew and he hasn't found you climbing up the trellis like so many of Maggie's suitors."
"Not my style," Daryl murmurs, "I'd meet you in the barn instead."
"Might have to try that," she giggles, "I'll sneak up to the hayloft, you park under the oak tree up the hill. I'll probably fall asleep so you'll have to wake me up."
"Yeah," Daryl smirks, "and how will I wake you up?"
She returns the smirk, her small hands gripping his biceps, body pressing up close to whisper in his ear.
"By doing things my daddy should never see."
He spares a glance to the porch. Sure enough, Hershel is sitting on the porch swing, sipping on a glass of sweet tea, eyes never straying from the young pair in front of them.
"Goodnight Daryl," Beth whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "sweet dreams."
With her on his mind, his dreams are anything but sweet.
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Aaron can't wait to get out. It's been like that since they were kids, Aaron with his maps and his plans and counting down the days until graduation and he can leave and never return.
Daryl gets it. In a way. He knows he'll never leave because he's got nowhere else to go.
It's the Dixon way.
Beth's asking him about graduation and college like it's a given, like he's got all the same opportunities as Shawn.
"Don't want to talk about that," he mutters with a shrug, "the future."
"What, you gonna live with your brother forever?"
His eyes narrow. He's not sure if she's serious or joking - he can hear the humour in her tone, but her eyes glint of something more serious.
"Is that a bad thing?"
It's accusatory, his question. It's daring her to say something, say anything that will let him in on how she truly feels. Of what she truly wants from him.
"I'm gonna go to college," she says quietly, "I'll probably study music education. Then I'll come home. Maybe this town, maybe one nearby. I'm not asking you about your future to start a fight or to push you into something. I just want to know if your version has me in it. Because you're in mine."
Daryl doesn't reply. Can't reply, not when he has no idea what to say to that.
"Never thought about a future with you," he admits and he hates the way her face falls, "never thought it was an option."
"I love you, Daryl Dixon," she sighs, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head against his heart, "I'm here to stay."
He drops a kiss to her hair, and though he doesn't say it, he knows.
I love you too.
One day he'll be brave enough to say it.
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"I don't regret it, you know."
He swallows nervously. His head hurts from the repetitive thumping bass blaring from the cheap speakers set up in the backyard. It's late and he's half expecting the cops to show up any minute. He can hear Merle leading a chant of chug, chug, chug and he wonders which unfortunate teammate is going to throw up on his front lawn in the next hour.
And Beth Greene is naked in his bed.
He doesn't know what to say. Because ten minutes ago she was a virgin and now she's not and, fuck, that sort of thing matters to a girl like her. She deserves her first time to be romance and flowers, and instead he's slightly buzzed and most of the football team is in his backyard partying.
And will know the second they leave the room what went down.
He didn't want that for her. Didn't want that for them.
"Shoulda been special," he says gruffly, the words feeling awkward on his tongue, "shoulda taken you to the creek or something…"
"Daryl," Beth sits up, the sheet falling from her body and revealing her chest, her perfect pink nipples, and the bruises already forming from his overeager ministrations.
"It was special because it was with you."
He's trying this thing where he believes her. Trying this thing where he believes in his own self-worth. That he is good enough, that he is good enough for her. Tries to focus on the way he made her come with his fingers and his mouth and not the way the tears pooled in her eyes when he thrust into her for the first time. Tries to focus on her little whimpers that followed, her moans as he slowly moved inside her, and not the blood staining the sheets.
Tries to convince himself that he gave her something amazing, rather than took from her something he didn't deserve.
"Stay?"
Her eyes light up at his request and she doesn't hesitate to call her mama, to make up a cover story and tell her she'll be home in the morning. He curls an arm around her and she snuggles into his chest.
There's no walk of shame because they don't leave his room.
Instead he strokes her hair and wonders if he has the ingredients to make her pancakes in the morning.
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He's on his third cupcake when Shawn slides into the chair next to him.
Rick and Shane look up in surprise, because Shawn doesn't sit with them, hangs out with Tyreese, their linebacker, and some other kids who aren't on the team. Even sits with Beth sometimes because Shawn's the type of guy who is actually friends with his kid sister.
The Greene's are fucking weird.
"Hey man," Shawn greets him, nodding at Rick and Shane, "Beth make you those?"
"Nah," Daryl shakes his head, "your mom did."
Yeah. Because Beth was waiting at his locker with a kiss and a container of cupcakes, courtesy of Annette Greene. Who missed him at dinner the other night and told Beth to tell him to make sure he doesn't miss the next one.
Again, fucking weird.
"They're guilt cupcakes," Shawn smirks, "don't eat them, they're a trap."
"Startin' to realise that," he grunts, taking another bite.
"Look," Shawn hesitates slightly and Daryl feels his suspicion rising. He's used to people wanting something from him, a hook up of some kind or a favour. Not usually willing to return it either.
"I'm away this weekend," he explains, choosing his words carefully, "college tour, you know?"
He doesn't, but whatever.
"It's this guy Jimmy's birthday party – you probably know of him, he's QB for the Kings – anyway, we've been friends with him since we were kids, so we usually go. I can't make it and some of those Kings are pretty sketchy guys, so I was wondering if you could take Beth?"
Shawn looks almost hopeful, like there's a good chance Daryl will reject his request.
Like that's an option. Like that's a possibility.
"Yeah, no worries."
The guy is relieved, thanks him profusely and as he's leaving, Shane lets out a loud laugh.
"Think he knows you're fucking his sister?"
The way Shawn pauses midstride, well, he does now.
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Merle warns him.
This party ain't gonna be nothin' but trouble, baby brother. Don't lose your head.
It's starting to become apparent that Beth and trouble kind of go hand in hand.
And he can't really bring himself to care.
Jimmy lives about five minutes away from the Greene's, on a neighbouring property. Because of zoning restrictions, they ended up at different high schools and he spares a moment to imagine a alternate reality where Jimmy and Beth were JimmyandBeth and that would have been it.
She never would have looked his way in the first place.
He takes his truck, parks under an old lean to next to a couple of other cars. Beth jumps out before he can walk around and open the door for her, her cowboy boots crunching against the dirt. Her white sundress swishes along her knees and her ponytail bounces with each step.
She grabs his hand as they make their way around to the barn. There's a bonfire burning, kids sitting around, drinking from red plastic cups. Jimmy's folks are away for the night, Beth had told him, so these kids are falling over each other, already two sheets to the wind.
Still, heads turn as they approach the crowd, hand in hand. A couple of girls wave hesitantly at Beth and a few of the guys (Kings players, he recognises them instantly) eye them cautiously.
Merle was right.
Nothing good is going to come of tonight.
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.
A couple of beers in, and he loses her.
Well, he doesn't lose her. A group of girls a few drinks in grab her by the hand and drag her away.
"Never thought I'd see a Dixon at my party."
Jimmy isn't a bad guy. A boring guy, a nice guy, but not a bad guy.
"Never thought I'd be at a Kings party," he shrugs, tagging a swig.
He doesn't offer much in the way of conversation, but, in fairness, Jimmy doesn't either. Tries to talk football, but that's never been Daryl's topic of choice.
One of the girl's Beth was with stumbles up to them, throwing an arm around Jimmy.
"Oh my god, your farm friend is so wasted."
Jimmy's brow furrows with confusion.
"Beth? She doesn't drink."
"Where is she?" Daryl demands.
The girl shrugs.
"Inside? She wanted to lie down."
Daryl moves quickly, Jimmy hot on his heels. Storming into the house, he quickly scans the living room, the few occupants giving them a quizzical look.
"Where the fuck is she?" he snaps.
They're Kings players. He glares at them menacingly. And they glare right back at him.
"Guys, have you seen Beth?"
One of the guys, Daryl vaguely recognises him as their second-string quarterback, gestures towards the back of the house.
"She went to the bathroom. But Gorman was lurking."
Fucking Gorman. Kings linebacker, played a dirty game and started to shit to the point that even Rick wanted to punch his lights out. There'd been rumours, stories about incidences with freshman girls. One girl who tried to press charges, but this is small town football.
With enough elbow grease, even the toughest stain can be washed away.
It's Jimmy's house, so Daryl lets him lead the way through the sprawling farmhouse. To his credit, the kid doesn't hesitate to burst into each and every room, in his urgency forgoing an apology.
He hears her. Hears weak cries and protests and he pushes past the quarterback, following the sound.
And when he finds them, the scene before him has him seeing red.
He'd recognise that look anywhere; eyes glazed over, struggling to stay alert. She doesn't drink, but she's been given something. Gorman has her pinned against the washing machine, knee between her thighs, lips on her neck, and hand roaming under her dress. She's whimpering and weakly trying to pull away, the drugs coursing through her system working against her.
Bursting forward, he grabs the guy, throwing him to the ground.
"What the fuck, Gorman?"
He can hear Jimmy yelling behind him, but he quickly turns back to Beth, slumped against the wall, tears running down her cheeks.
"Daryl," she sobs, "I don't feel well, I want to go home."
He wants revenge. He wants blood. He wants to make this kid cry like Beth is. But he isn't her priority. Beth, crying and shaking, is his priority. He made a promise to her brother, to her father, to her, and he sure as hell ain't gonna break them. So instead of taking a swing, he scoops Beth up in his arms, makes his way through the house, past the Kings players in the living room, past the girls whispering near the fire pit, and sets her down gently in the passenger seat of his truck.
"Daryl fucking Dixon," Daryl spins around, and he honestly can't believe the stupidity of this guy, "almost didn't believe it when I heard you were here. Thought maybe it was your brother, selling again. His shit is top notch, though."
He peers around the door, smirking.
"Isn't it Bethy?"
"I'm going to end you, Gorman," Daryl growls, grabbing him by the shirt, "you piece of fucking shit."
His fist collides with Gorman's face, with a satisfying crack of teeth and cartilage and he fucking relishes the ache in his hand. With each blow he lands, he feels his rage grow. The few punches that Gorman throws, they fuel him further. Over and over again, and it's only when he's being pulled away does the outside world start to register.
Jimmy yelling. Beth crying. Sirens. A faceless person dragging him away. The sound of handcuffs clicking shut.
They push him into the back of a police cruiser, and all he can see is blood.
.
.
.
They give him a phone call and he calls Merle.
He guesses that's the good thing about being eighteen. They don't call his dad.
Still, Merle doesn't treat these things with any urgency. On the phone he laughs and scoffs I told you so. Tells him he'll get there when he gets there and hangs up before Daryl could even tell him what station he's at.
"Dixon."
The officer unlocks his cell.
"You're free to go."
"What?" Daryl's eyes narrow in disbelief.
"The kid's folks aren't pressing charges," the cop shrugs, "here's your stuff, your ride is out front. Do yourself a favour, kid. Don't go around starting shit on Kings' turf."
Fucking small towns and football.
Expecting to see Merle he's frozen in shock when instead of his surly older brother waiting for him, it's Hershel Greene.
"Come on, son."
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.
The car ride is silent. Shooting sidelong glances at the old man, Daryl's not sure what to expect. Expects him to yell at him, maybe. Forbid him from ever seeing his daughter, more than likely.
"I'm sorry I took so long."
Definitely wasn't expecting that.
"I was at the hospital-"
"Beth-"
"Is fine," Hershel finishes, "she will be, anyway. Doctor seems to think she was given rohypnol, but we won't know until we get the lab results. She's home now, resting. She wants to see you tomorrow."
"I'll be there," Daryl promises.
"You did quite a number on that young man," Hershel notes, "pretty sure he'll be out for a few games."
"Wish I could have done more," he mutters bitterly, unable to shake the image of her glazed over stare and Gorman's hand up her skirt.
"You saved Shawn from going out there looking for round two," Hershel shakes his head, "that boy might be my step-son, but he is all Greene. I know his plays just as well as he knows the team's. He'll go out there, with Tyreese and a few of the other guys, guns blazing, set on revenge. Won't spare a single thought for the consequences, which he never has when it comes to Bethy."
Is that what he did? He certainly wasn't thinking about the consequences the moment he threw his first punch. Certainly wasn't thinking about football or his future or the fallout of his actions.
"Dixons take care of their own," he mutters the worn mantra before he can stop himself. Like he's got some kind of claim over this man's daughter, this sunshine girl, who belongs to so many people in so many different ways. She's not his, and he curses himself for forgetting that.
"Well, I'm grateful, Daryl," Hershel tells him sincerely, "we all are."
They drive back to town in silence.
.
.
.
The season goes on.
It's the way it is.
He hangs out with Beth and trains after school, and sometimes he goes home to Merle and sometimes he goes to the farm.
Like most things in the Greene family, they don't talk about the incident. But it's acknowledged.
"Mom rang Jimmy's parents," Beth tells him, as she brushes Nelly, "I overheard her on the phone. She was so angry, tellin' them Jimmy shouldn't be inviting unsavoury characters onto their property."
The thought of Annette Greene referencing 'unsavoury characters', when in many circles, he would be considered just that, makes him want to laugh.
"You've gone up, like, a billion points in her book," Beth smirks, "she's always sighing and clutching her necklace and sayin' that you're like some kind of hero out of a novel."
"Yeah, a damn romance novel," Daryl rolls his eyes. Beth giggles.
"You know that's all Mama reads."
"I know you're still recovering from the fact she owns a copy of that Fifty Shades of Grey book," he chuckles. Beth tosses the brush back into the bucket, looping her arms around his neck.
"Let's stop talking about my mama, okay?"
He ducks his head, presses a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. Her tongue darts forward and it doesn't take much to prompt him to part his lips and deepen the kiss.
"What do ya want to talk about then?" he breathes, nipping at her neck, relishing the way she shivers under his touch.
"Nothing," she hums against his lips, grabbing him by the shirt, dragging him into an empty stall.
Good. Talking was never his strong suit anyway.
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.
The week of the playoffs, Rick tells him that Lori is pregnant.
He tells him during math class, so casual, like it's nothing out of the ordinary. Like it's pizza day in the cafeteria, or he bought a new video game.
They skip third period.
Behind the gym, Daryl offers him a cigarette. Rick accepts it, coughs the first time he inhales, but quickly gets the hang of it.
"I'm going to marry her," Rick exhales slowly, "I mean, I was always going to marry her, but…"
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
"What about college?" Daryl asks. Rick sighs.
"Can't go to college with a baby," he shrugs, "gonna need money. My dad isn't going to be thrilled. Her folks even less so."
"I'm sorry," Daryl murmurs, unsure of what to say. Not like he's been in that situation and since he was a freshman, Merle drilled into him the importance of 'double bagging it'.
The best way to trap a man, Darylina, is for a woman to get herself knocked up.
Yeah, Merle is a piece of shit. But that's nothing new.
Daryl thinks of Shane, thinks back to that summer when him and Lori were thick as thieves. Thinks to all the times Rick complained about her being distant, brushing him off, making up excuses. Avoiding him.
"Is it yours?" Daryl blurts out.
Rick throws him an odd look.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Maybe Daryl's a piece of shit too.
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.
.
Shawn buys Annette a bulldog sweatshirt and that's the first time he ever sees the Greene matriarch burst into tears.
For the cameras, too.
Because, in a whirlwind no one expected, Shawn was named on of the top 20 graduating high school quarterbacks to watch. And with that title, came recruiters and offers and all kinds of men in suits knocking on the Greene's door.
But he chose UGA, and he chose home. And Annette Greene is positively over the moon.
"It's, uh, been a hard couple of years," Shawn tells the camera, looking awkward, in a charming kind of way, "but it taught me that family always come first. That's how I made my decision."
It's still a novel concept. Family. Doesn't always understand it, is sometimes frustrated by it. Beth, who is always calling her mama, telling her exactly what she's doing, who she's with, when she'll be home. Shawn, who seems happy when Hershel watches their training session every Thursday afternoon, while other kids might groan at the prospect. A family who looks forward to regular dinners and gatherings. A family eager to share their time with others.
(There are picnics and birthdays and holidays and he's expected to be there.
They want him there.)
As he stands on the outskirts of the living room, watching Shawn do his first interview, there are no should've, could've, would'ves, because that was never in his cards. He's got a job lined up after school, at a garage a town over. He's even thinking about going to a technical college, once he's put some money away.
He's putting money away for something else, too, but that's further down the track.
Much further.
He's thinking about his future, in terms of what he wants. What he wants to do.
It's new and it's different and it's nothing he would have ever thought possible.
All thanks to her.
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.
.
This is our time. This is our time. THIS IS OUR TIME.
Somewhere, between the locker room and the stadium, he wonders briefly if the familiar chant is maybe some kind of metaphor for his life right now.
When the horn sounds, he quickly pushes that thought away.
Since he was a kid, he learnt to block out everything bar what matters. He doesn't hear the roar of the crowd or the shouting cheerleaders. Doesn't hear the marching band or the fast-talking commentators.
All he hears is his coach, his teammates. All he hears is what he needs to hear so he can do his job.
It's fitting that it's a close game. Just as it's fitting that in the last few seconds, of the last play, Shawn scores the winning touchdown. And all those noises he'd been blocking out, he hears them loud a clear now. And Rick's embracing him and Shawn's clapping him on the back and Beth is sprinting across the field, hurling herself into his arms.
"You were amazing." she breathes, "I'm so proud of you, Daryl."
Hands clasping her cheeks, he kisses her like they just won state. Pours into it his excitement and adrenaline and relief.
"I love you," he breathes and he wonders if she heard him, with all the commotion going on around them.
When she kisses him again, with a smile lighting up her face and tears pooling in her eyes, he knows that she did.
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He finishes early on Fridays. Picks her up outside of school on his bike, helmet dangling from the handlebars.
(One of Hershel's rules for dating his teenage daughter.)
"Hey," she greets him with a kiss on the cheek, "where we heading?"
He takes her to the creek, and they spend the afternoon swimming and exchanging lazy kisses. She talks to him about her music class, the upcoming Taylor Swift concert Shawn's taking her to, and how she's just about convinced her daddy to let her go to California with him to visit Aaron.
"Can't let your first time out of Georgia be without me," she wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead to his. He smirks, hands encircling her waist.
"Wouldn't want it otherwise."
She hums against his lips, and pulls back with a giggle.
"Remember the first time we came here?"
"Remember your mother putting me to work," he teases, "also remember this bossy rally girl demanding that I skip Walsh's party."
"Please," Beth retorts, "having me as your rally girl was the best thing that ever happened to you."
She's joking, but it's oh so true.
He didn't sign up for a rally girl. Didn't sign up for Beth Greene.
(But he's glad he did.)
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