Here's some beautifully mindless baby fluff because my last fic has be stuck on the idea of a sweet little Bethyl baby. Because seriously, how perfect is the name Dillon Dixon?
Note: I do not own The Walking Dead.
Beth was hungry. Ravenous even. Over the last week she had made rabbit and opossum helper, black bean brownies with cocoa powder, canned pork and beans, tuna casserole, canned cheese, anything and everything she was craving and could get her hands on. The ZA didn't offer many options and even in Alexandria where people had access to fresh food as well as canned, it wasn't quite as easy to fulfill her cravings. The things she'd be willing to do for some oreos or a cinnabon were downright outrageous. That's to be expected when you're growing an entire human being inside your body. It had been hard on her at first, getting used to all the symptoms and the moodiness. Daryl tolerated her fairly well and did his best to hold his tongue, choose his battles wisely and appease Beth as best as he could. He knew with a baby on the way he better get used to dealing with her scorn sooner or later.
She hadn't been sleeping at all the past few weeks. Daryl was out on a run and could be back at any time within the next couple of days. A week or so before they had moved out of their room they shared in the house with Rick, Carol, Michonne, Carl and Judith to their own home that would be accommodate their growing family. It was a smaller ranch style house a few blocks over. There was a garage in the back for Daryl to work on his motorcyle, an enclosed porch that wrapped around the side of the house and a large oak tree out back with a tire swing still attached to it. Beth couldn't have hoped for anything better after everything they had been through since the turn. Hell, this house, this baby, Daryl, she would have loved to have it all, even before the end of the world. Pregnancy in the zombie apocalypse wasn't an easy feat. Of course Beth had far more accommodations than Lori and other women had experienced but she made do with what was accessible. Once the initial shock set in, Daryl did everything he could to get the proper supplies for the baby. He found a crib, tons of clothes and brand new bottles, even a breast pump. He scoured every pharmacy and grocery store in the surrounding areas for folic acid and prenatal vitamins. Due to the lack of maternity shops in the area, Beth had Daryl find her any fabric she could use to sew herself comfortable clothes to wear as she grew larger. He had found her some jersey, cotton, even sheets and tablecloths made beautiful flowing dresses she could tug on with ease. Although her frame was small, Beth was all belly. Until she turned around, you could hardly tell she was pregnant.
One of the women who had lived in their community had been a midwife. She and her husband had earned a birthing center before the turn. She taught classes there, made home visits with families, prepared and educated them about the new life coming into their world. Beth was so thankful to have someone around who understood everything she was feeling. Someone who would be there when the time came. Sure it wouldn't be easy without modern medicine, no epidurals or anything but the midwife assured her that with everything she had been through, childbirth would be a piece of cake. Women had done it for thousands of years without doctors or hospitals. She knew that there was always a possibility. When the morning sickness began and Beth's periods disappeared, she slumped into a deep depression, her thoughts lost with Lori Grimes. What if she died? How could she leave Daryl with a child? He had been through enough in his own childhood. As wonderful as he had been with the other children in their group, he had reservations about fatherhood. He tried to hide it from Beth, but deep down she knew. She tried not to let her mind wander to those thoughts anymore.
The midwife, Pam, was coming to their house that morning for Beth's check up. Earlier Beth had baked fresh corn bread muffins, mixing together honey butter and steeping tea as a treat before she arrived.
"I'm glad she's here an all but, I still think she's a granola crunchin' hippie," Daryl sneered, leaning over the counter, trying to dip his little pinky into the bowl of honey butter.
"Oh shush. She's just a little uh, 'old school'. We should be happy to have her! You're gonna be kissin' her ass when she's pulling this baby outta me 'cause without her you'd be scared shitless and probably would be the one havin' to do it," she smirked at him, knowing this entire experience was way out of his comfort zone.
"Yer suppose ta do that. Cuss and damn me to hell fer knockin' ya up in the first place,"
"I like to tell myself it's gonna be this beautiful, magical experience and he'll pop right out wide awake and smilin, eyes open and everythin'," Beth mused, "but I know I'll be mad as hell and he'll be crying and screaming and covered in gunk. But until that day comes, let's stick with my fantasy, okay?"
"Whatever you say," Daryl rolled his eyes as she compiled the tea and cornbread on a tray and handed it to him to carry to the table.
The door rapped a few times before Pam appeared in front of the screen door. "Yoo hoo, you two!" Pam was a shorter, heavy set woman in her mid 50's with striking silver hair cut into a blunt bob. She had a warm, friendly smile and a welcoming demeanor.
"Let yourself in! I've got some cornbread and sweet tea here for us while we talk,"
"Beth you are heaven sent. Thank you, sweetie," Pam said as she gave Beth a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.
"Daryl, pleasure as always," she said smiling warmly at the surly archmen.
"Mmmhm, Pam. Thanks for comin',"
"As always! I'm just itchin' to get my hands on that baby! Only a few more months here!"
"You and me both! He's been kickin' me like a madman the past few nights,"
"He wouldn't be a Dixon if he weren't givin' ya a hard time," Daryl grinned mischievously.
"Just what I always wanted, another Dixon man givin' me hell!"
"You reckin' it's a boy? How can you tell?" Daryl asked with a mouth full of cornbread.
"Well, Beth is carryin' low. Real low. For the most part that helps indicate she's havin' a boy. Since we don't have ultrasound equipment and all that, we can't see him but from everything else I've gathered he's healthy. Got a strong heartbeat and seems to be growin' quickly. Momma is even healthier! Look at 'er. Every time I see her I think she can't be glowin' any more than she already is but she does!"
"Nah, she always been like that. Since the moment I met her. Shinin' everywhere she went, all optimistic and bright."
"I'm just glad the baby is healthy," Beth beamed, looking down as she blushed. She definitely was glowing. Radiant and gorgeous. Her hair had grown almost past her waist, strong and full of natural highlights from the sun's rays. Freckles adorned her skin from being in the sun gardening and tending to laundry. She had never felt healthier nor more beautiful and taken care of.
"What can I say kids, other than a little heartburn, you've had an ideal pregnancy so far!"
"Old wives tale says women who get bad heartburn during pregnancy give birth to babies with a whole head full of hair," Beth giggled, imagining their son. Would he have Daryl's dark mane or her golden, sun kissed locks?
"I can see that happen' seein' as you two have more hair than anybody I've ever seen!" Pam teased, shooting Daryl a wicked grin.
"My brother Merle used to tell me I had lotsa hair when I was a kid," Daryl recollected, "he and my Ma would just shave it all off cause I'd always get gum or somethin' in there." They all chuckled imagining little Daryl with a head full of bubblegum.
Beth gazed at him longingly. He had the worst past than anybody. Anybody in their group, in Alexandria. Probably anybody she had ever met. But he had made the most of it. He had healed, came out of it a better, stronger man. She admired him so much for his strength, but more than that, his ability to grow. Every fiber in her being knew that he would be the best Daddy their baby could ever hope for. The kind of Dad he'd have wanted to have growing up. He was going to do right by his son and his wife. Take care of his own.
Even though it was getting late, Beth knew she wouldn't be going to sleep anytime soon. The kicking got harder and harder as the night went on and she knew he wouldn't let up until morning. "Ugh, kid you're killin' me," she sighed, laying her hands over the spots on her stomach where he was moving and shifting. If anything she was just thankful the weather had cooled down. All summer she sweat through the nights, dreaming of the days when air conditioning as still a possibility.
Just then she heard Daryl approaching the sidewalk to the front porch. The years of tracking and hunting together, she had learned everyone's steps. She'd recognize his anywhere.
"Good evenin', darlin. Baby Dixon keepin' you up again?" he said, slipping off his boots at the door and hanging up his vest and crossbow in the hall closet.
"That and I was hopin' you'd come back with somethin' special for me on your run?" she grinned slyly, not ashamed at all of her motives.
"Mmmm, I can't promise ya nothin' but I did my best," he quipped back at her, pulling out a jar of vlasic bread and butter pickles. "I don't know why you won't just eat the ones Carol grows and pickles here but what my lady wants, my lady gets."
"The ones she makes are good and everythin', but they're just not the same. When I get a cravin' it's like I lose my mind until I get it. Which has been pretty much always lately." She handed the jar back to Daryl after failing to unscrew the jar herself.
"Pickles though," he said handing the jar back to her carefully, trying not to spill any juice as he grabbed a pickle himself, "could you be any more of a typical pregnant woman?"
"If you could get me ice cream, I'd have asked for it months ago," she grinned, settling down next to him on the couch.
"Baby, I'd pump up those generators as high as I could get 'em and get you a whole freezer full of ice cream,"
"Mmmmmm," she snuggled into his chest, swallowing the last of the pickle, "I'm the luckiest woman in the world. And this baby is the even luckier."
"If you think the kickin' is bad, I can't imagine what the mouth is gonna be like on this kid," he teased, pulling her closer to him.
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Beth yawned, envisioning their first born child. They were both stubborn and hard headed, opinionated and uninhibited. If their child was anything other than strong willed, they'd both be surprised.
"Dillon Dixon," she mused, "Is that not the most perfect name you ever heard?"
"It does have quite the ring to it," he murmured, looking down at her through low lashes.
"Still haven't thought of a middle name though," Beth wondered, pushing for Daryl to come up with one on his own. She wanted to suggest Merle but didn't want to upset him or pour salt into any wounds. Beth went out of her way to carefully bring up the past, the things she knew might hurt him.
"Well, Hershel is off the table considering that Maggie and Glenn beat us to it," Daryl pointed out sorely. Glenn and Maggie had a year after they arrived at ASZ. Maggie's pregnancy had been a little more difficult and the baby had been born small and weak. He eventually grew more and started to thrive but Maggie struggled at first.
"What about Noah?" Daryl asked.
"I had thought about that but it just doesn't flow the way I want it to. Not that Noah wasn't important to me because he was. Dillon Dixon is already such a perfect name. That's why I'm havin' such a hard time thinkin' of somethin',"
"Hmmmmm…" Daryl thought out loud, his heavy eyelids now closed.
"What about...Merle?" she asked softly, not wanting to pry.
"Ya, I had thought about that. I can't decide if he'd laugh in my face or be honored," Daryl scratched his head, never knowing how his brother would respond to anything on any god given day. Merle was like that. Unpredictable.
"Well, let's hope it's the latter," Beth smiled to herself, squeezing his hand tighter.
"Okay," he said pulling his hand from hers and getting up from the couch, "Dillon Merle Dixon it is."
"Really? I wasn't sure if you would like the idea but I think it's a good way to honor your brother," she smiled up at him, so proud of the man before her. Although Daryl would never admit it, she knew Merle would be too. So would Hershel. She had no doubt in her mind that everyone would be proud of him.
"You better hope we end up with a boy and that ol' hippie ain't jus blowin' smoke up yet ass," he teased, pulling her by the hand, heading towards their bedroom, "cause if we end up with a girl yer shit outta luck as far as a name goes."
"I don't even wanna think about that! If that happens, we'll deal with it and come up with a name then!" She shook her head, imagining the scenario. It wasn't that she didn't want to have a daughter, but as soon as she knew she was pregnant, Beth had her heart set on a rambunctious little boy with startling blue eyes and disheveled hair as dark as night. Her own little piece of she and Daryl all their own.
"Best get you to bed," he instructed, "you gotta try to sleep more and get all the rest you can before the rugrat is crying and screamin' all hours of the night."
"I can't wait for every second of it," she gushed, closing her eyes and practically smelling the new born baby smell in her nostrils.
"Speak fer yerself," Daryl huffed, sliding into bed beside her.
"You were just used to Judy," Beth thought back to the prison, Judith's screams of terror keeping everyone in their cell wide awake,"everyone tells me it's different when it's a baby of your own."
"Yer prolly right. I'm sure I'll love the lil shit as much as I do all the other kids around here," he yawned, pulling Beth closer into his arms.
"He ain't even here yet and you're already calling our baby a little shit?"
"Yep," he said flatly, "just call me Mr. Mom."
"I love you, Mr. Mom," she teased, nuzzling into his chest, "thanks for the pickles."
"Mmmhmm. I love you too, darlin," Daryl said, gently caressing her belly with both hands, "Goodnight ya lil shit. Quit kickin' and give yer mom a fuckin' break."
She laughed, feeling her belly giggle, Dillon's kicks moving between his Daddy's hands.
"He's stubbon," Daryl concluded, "What can I say? He is a Dixon, after all."
"Goodnight, Mr. Dixon."
"Goodnight Misses Dixon."