A/N: I'm currently participating in NaNoWriMo and when my original story gets too overwhelming or hard fanfiction keeps me writing. So. This idea has been in my head for a while and this chapter kind of just wrote itself, an easy 1700 words for my NaNo word count! This story will probably be pretty light and fluffy, you've been warned. I'm not sure how many chapters there'll be but I'll see where it takes me! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!
One more coat of paint and the cabin would be ready to move in, Daryl decided looking at the small but refreshed space around him. The cabin had been a mess when he'd found it but he'd loved it almost instantly, possibly more than he'd loved anything else in his whole life, other than his bike. He'd found a real estate agent in town and they'd been able to track down the original owners who'd wound up being more than interested in selling the fixer upper. Within just a few weeks it was his and he'd never been so scared in all his life. Could he really do this, have a stable enough life to pay a mortgage, to fix up and maintain a house?
Even though he'd been stable for years with a good job and decent pay he'd still always felt like at any moment it could all go to shit so he'd never owned anything. He'd rented apartments and leased a truck, never buying, never settling into one spot as if that would be tempting fate. But if now wasn't the right time to take a leap there would never be a good right time. Usually it was Merle that would swoop in and ruin his stability, Merle who'd blow into town on a whim and uproot his routine. He'd wind up at a bar with a beer in his hand faster than he could blink and with Merle it was never just one beer. His brother was nothing if not a fantastic manipulator and Daryl usually wound up having to go to work the next day with a blistering hangover and hatred for his only blood relative left on this earth.
Now Merle was married with a stable job and a step kid to take care of and his brother had never been happier. He treated his wife and new daughter like they were royalty and worked hard to make sure they never had to do without like he and his brother had their whole lives. Merle still hounded Daryl but instead of dragging him to a bar he now drug him to family dinners with his girls and Daryl found himself with a play teacup in his hand instead of a beer, playing tea party with his step niece at her tiny pink play table. Merle had encouraged him to find somewhere to settle down, to find someone to settle down with, and when Daryl had told him about the cabin Merle had nearly made him go deaf from all the whooping and hollering he did.
They'd spent weeks fixing up the cabin, Merle sometimes dropping in to help with the heavy lifting, as he put it and Merle's wife Carol came sometimes to help with the smaller home repair items like painting and installing new fixtures in the bathroom and kitchen. She was had a knack for making things homey and had even planted some nice new shrubs, devoid of flowers of course, out in front of the house in small, round planters at the base of the towering trees that kept the cabin mostly shaded through the day. It almost resembled a home now, he thought proudly. A home without furniture but maybe it was like one of those Japanese style homes he'd seen in magazines with their uncluttered spaces and simplistic interior design. He could get paper screens and sit on the floor, maybe make guests remove their shoes before coming inside. He dismissed the idea with a snort to himself, imagining how much Merle would bitch about that, and added "get furniture" to his mental to do list.
Closing up, he headed for the town's hardware store to pick up one last round of paint for the living room, wondering if he should pick a color other than white. Carol had helped paint the first coat and had merely patted him on the shoulder when he'd shown her the paint, a look of pity on her face. When he'd asked her what was wrong with white she'd just shook her head and started to coat the walls with a small smile, like she knew some secret he didn't. He'd asked Merle about it but his brother hadn't been much help, only declaring that white paint was what renters and bachelors picked. Daryl felt somewhat confused by that comment because he was a bachelor after all so didn't the choice make sense?
The hardware store in town wasn't too far down the road and he took his truck in case he found other things to pick up while he was there besides paint. He mentally reviewed the long to do list in his head as he drove, trying to make sure he got everything he needed in just the one trip. When he arrived, the store owner, Ty, waved to him when he walked in and Daryl nodded back, heading to the back of the store to once again review his paint selections. Blue, yellow, green… he didn't think he'd want anything too bright, maybe brown? He could flip through one of those interior design brochures that were supposed to give you ideas but always make you feel worse about how your home looked compared to those professionally styled rooms.
On his way to the back he headed down an aisle outfitted with assorted nuts and bolts and was stunned to see a slight blonde standing in his way down the narrow aisle. She looked positively puzzled as she peered at the shelves before her, one hand nervously pulling at a loose thread on the end of her cut off shorts, and before he could back away without being noticed she lifted her head and enormous blue eyes turned to look at him.
After a startled, slightly awkward moment she recovered quickly and asked with a quick smile, "Oh, I'm sorry, do you need to get through?"
Daryl blinked for a moment, taken aback by the blue of her eyes and vaguely wondering if he should get paint in that color, before finally muttering as he tried to make some sort of retreat, "Nah, you're fine."
As he turned to go she threw a hand towards a shelf with washers and asked somewhat desperately, "You know anything about this stuff?"
Daryl turned back towards her and glanced at where her fingers were pointed before lifting a shoulder in a shrug, "Some."
She strode towards him with a new sense of determination and held out a small hand, "I'm Beth, Beth Greene."
Daryl stared at her hand, his brain still catching up, then took it lightly in his and grunted, "Alright."
She rolled her eyes at him, she really did, then asked with good natured impatience, "What's your name?"
"Daryl," He answered almost automatically, wondering who this person was, Beth he mentally corrected, and where she got off rolling her eyes at him.
His slight annoyance was completely forgotten though when she positively beamed with a smile that made him forget his damn name. It was a good thing he'd already given it, maybe she could remind him.
"Well Daryl," She went on, pressing a diagram of a sink into his hands, "I have a leaky faucet and I was trying to fix it myself to save some money but then I realized I have no idea how." She cocked her head to the side as she peered up at him and asked again, "So, do you know anything about fixing sinks?" She hoisted an enormous patterned bag higher up on her shoulder as she waited for him to answer, her eyebrows raised slightly in hope.
Daryl blinked at her again then looked at the diagram she'd given him for a moment. He knew this stuff, had taught himself everything he needed to know when he'd redone the bathrooms in his cabin. He could do this, he just needed to get his damn brain working again.
He walked to the shelves and started handing her things he thought she might need to fix a leaky faucet and she accepted each one without question, placing every item in her bright red shopping basket without asking why. It was odd to be so trusted by someone he'd just met but also kind of reassuring too. She obviously wasn't afraid of him, which was saying something given that he looked like he'd be at home in a biker bar with his tattoos and long hair. Most people were afraid of him at first glance but this tiny, determined blonde seemed braver than them all.
He dropped one final thing in her hand and then shifted a little uncomfortably for a second before asking gruffly, "Ya got tools?"
The eyes went for a roll again and he watched in fascination. Where on earth had this girl come from?
"Yes," She replied with a hint of a huff in her voice, "My daddy gave me a set when I moved out the first time." She glanced down into her basket and then added with a small hint of doubt, "I never needed them until now, though."
She looked a little lost then, her small hand rifling through the things he'd chosen for her absently as if she were hoping they'd speak to her and tell her what to do with them. He could help her, he thought. He knew this stuff, he could fix her sink for her, do whatever else she needed help with…
Time to check out, he decided as he started to back away. She could get help from her Daddy or Ty, she didn't need him to follow her home like some damn puppy. Girl like her was better off not finding out why everyone else in town was hesitant around people like him.
She seemed to notice his subtle retreat, her huge eyes flicking towards him again and tracing the steps he was taking away from her. She smiled a little, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind one ear, "Thanks for your help. I'm… I'm sorry I sort of just made you help me. You were very nice. My family always tells me I can be a bit… enthusiastic so… yeah, thanks."
She spun quickly on her heel and strode towards the front of the store, her white Keds squeaking a little against the concrete floor. He watched her go, still feeling a little stunned in the wake of the past few minutes, then he shook himself a little inside and headed for… right. The paint aisle. He'd come to pick up paint for the cabin. Paint. Blue paint. Yeah, blue would be nice.