I don't even know what this is, but I will say right now that it isn't a one-shot. All I know is that I couldn't get this idea out of my head, so... Yeah.

Enjoy.

The familiar sound of a bell tinkling as the door to the diner opened caused Beth to jump up from where she was sitting behind the breakfast bar, the book that she had been busy reading snapping to a shut once her hand had snapped away from it. The clock that hung up in the diner had broken a few weeks before, but Beth knew that it was still quite early in the morning - knew because the diner hadn't experienced the typical mad rush that came around seven thirty and didn't calm down until ten, knew because it was still quite dark outside and because the street lights were still on.

And Beth definitely knew that it was still quite early in the morning when she saw that her new customer was none other than Daryl Dixon, who didn't bother to let on to her as he strolled into the diner and made his way over to one of the booth's that sat hidden away in the corner. If Beth had to guess which booth was Daryl's favourite, then she would definitely say that one. The man almost always came by for breakfast before he began his daily routine of working at the bakery that he owned in town.

The bakery did well enough, too, although that was almost to be expected in a small town where there was only ever really one of everything. After all, they didn't even have a proper supermarket here; the closest Wal-Mart being a good forty five minute drive away, and that wasn't even one of the super stores. But the local people here liked to buy the local produce; which was one of the reasons why her daddy's farm did so well, and it was probably (definitely) one of the reason's that Daryl's bakery did so well, too.

Whenever she went there, though, Beth always found herself wondering what it was that made Daryl go there without fail every single day of the week. Sometimes, he took a day off, although it was well-known that he only ever did that if he was going out hunting or was visiting his older brother, Merle, who was locked away behind bars somewhere in the city. Some of the people around town were still quite wary of Daryl, if only for the fact that he had the surname Dixon, although Beth was pretty confidant that if anyone in this whole town was a good man, then it was him.

When it came to routine, though, it seemed like Daryl was not one to want to break it, and he practically always stopped by the diner every morning for his breakfast before he made his way over to work. Knowing that Daryl would be stopping by was one of the only reasons that Beth enjoyed working the early shift (OK, it was the only reason, but she wasn't about to admit that to anyone), even if he never did say much to her at all.

At that moment in time, there were only three other customers in the diner; all who were happily munching on their own foods and sipping on their own drinks. As was standard, T-Dog was working in the kitchen, although Beth had a feeling that he was probably watching one of his shows on his phone round about now, considering the fact that they were still very quiet. Beth didn't envy her colleague, though - considering the fact that there were times when she thought that waitressing was hard, she didn't even want to imagine just how difficult it could get for those who were busy working in the kitchen.

Without putting much thought into her actions, Beth smoothed over her hair - making sure that it was all tucked up as neatly as it possibly could be, considering the fact that the blonde strands had been styled in a sloppy, half-braided pony-tail - as she pushed herself down from the bar stool that she had been sat at, leaving the book that she had been reading to rest on the side as she made her way over towards Daryl's booth, trying not to think too much about the way that her heart rate sped up as she approached him or the way she instinctively swayed her hips a little bit more than usual as if she was trying to catch his attention.

He wasn't looking in her direction (although that wasn't necessarily something new, if she was honest with herself), but Beth always had a feeling that Daryl was watching her out of the corner of his eye, so she made an effort to look as womanly and attractive as she possibly could whenever she was around him, anyway. Beth figured that she would never really know whether he paid her any attention at all, but she secretly hoped that he did.

Oh, how she wished that he did.

"Good morning, Mister Dixon," Beth said in a sing-song voice as she reached the booth that he had sat himself in, a bright and happy smile plastered on her face as she attempted to mask how tired and worn-down she truly felt. Never appearing to be a man of many words, Daryl Dixon just nodded his head at her - only once, though - in response to her friendly greeting, choosing to completely avoid all eye contact with the young woman and instead focusing all of his attention to the menu that he was gripping tightly in both of his large hands.

Trying not to show any disappointment with the older man's lack of response (although what on earth it was that she had been expecting from him, Beth wasn't sure - after all, Daryl Dixon didn't speak to anyone, so why would he speak to her?) and instead busied herself by pulling out the small yet heavy notepad that sat comfortably in the back pocket of her jeans.

Swallowing down all of her nervousness and sudden self-consciousness as she worried over what to say to the ruggedly handsome man that apparantly found her to be so boring and dull and uninteresting that he couldn't even look up at her from the sticky laminated menu, Beth reached behind her ear and tugged on the pen that was resting there - the pen that was always resting there; the pen that she often forgot to remove from there, the pen that she only remembered was there when she went to take a shower and it fell out into the tub or when she went to get into bed after working the late shift and the lid of it stabbed into the back of her ear - and held it between her forefinger and thumb, her bright smile never faltering.

"Can I get you anything to drink while you look over the food?" Beth asked, not needing any more hints that Daryl Dixon was not interested in enjoying any type of small-talk with her. It was always the same song and dance with them, always the same routine, although he actually did like to regularly change up his food and drink order - always keeping her on her toes with it, never saying what it was that she had been expecting him to.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders at her in response, and for a moment, Beth thought that he wasn't going to have anything to drink at all - which would actually be completely unusual for him - but that was before he mumbed out that he would have "jus' a water", his rough voice so quiet and so low and so hushed that Beth was actually sort of impressed with herself for managing to hear him in the first place.

But her skills for being able to hear his mumbled words really had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Beth Greene noticed just about everything that Daryl Dixon did and said.

Nothing to do with that at all.

In all honesty, Beth really didn't have to write that down because she'd remember it regardless, but she jotted down his table number too and before she realised what she was doing, she was drawing a little smiley face next to it. Her cheeks burned red once she had realised exactly what she had done, and Daryl chose that exact moment of all moments to finally look up at the youngest Greene girl from where he sat in his booth in the back of the diner. Instinctively, Beth's cheeks began to burn, and she had a feeling that he would definitely notice just how red her whole face had gone from embarrassment.

Stuttering over her rushed words, Beth shoved her notepad back into her pocket as she informed Daryl that she would be right back with his drink and to take his food order before she flashed him another smile (although it was the exact same smile that Beth Greene saved for everyone, of course; not just the smile that she saved for Daryl Dixon, because what reason at all would she have to smile any differently at him?) and hurried away, making a bee line towards the kitchen.

For once, Beth didn't want that man's eyes on her, but she could feel Daryl's deep blue eyes staring into the back of her head as she practically ran into the kitchen, the worn light-pink door that led into it swinging to a close behind her.

T-Dog looked up at Beth from where he was staring intently at his phone, one headphone resting in his ear as the other danged down his shirt. The volume was turned up loud enough so that Beth managed to hear the sound of people screaming in terror, and she shuddered inadvertedly, wondering to herself (not for the first time) how the man could ever even watch those damned zombie programmes where people were ripped into pieces quite graphically, never mind actually enjoy them.

He paused the programme and quirked a brow at her as Beth shook her head and grabbed a glass, filling it with a few cubes of ice before pouring some water into it.

"No food order yet," she told him, practically reading his mind, and T-Dog nodded at that before returning his attention back to his phone, ready to hit the 'play' button with his thumb. "Be ready for one in a couple of minutes, though," she said, and T-Dog nodded once again before resuming his programme as Beth rushed out of the kitchen, shuddering again before making her way over to Daryl's table.

She was a pretty thing, Beth Greene.

He'd thought it for a while; since the first time that he had ever saw her, really, and his favourite morning's were the one's where she would be working and serving him his breakfast - although he'd never admit that out loud, and sometimes he wouldn't even admit it to himself. But other times - times like today, when she was seeming to be behaving a little bit strangely, too jumpy for his liking and too nervous - Daryl couldn't help himself but worry about her, and it was those moments when he would (finally) admit to himself that he actually cared about the girl more than he probably should, especially considering the fact that he couldn't even find it in him to say more than a handful of words to her.

But Daryl had always been shitty with words, and he had a feeling that Beth Greene knew that, too. Thing was, she had these eyes - all big and blue and soft and doe-like (even though they weren't brown, but still) - and those damned eyes got him every single fucking time. Those eyes that looked at him like he was something else; like he was actually a person, a real human being, and not just a piece of trash that somehow managed to pull himself halfway out of the gutter that he was born in.

Sometimes, Beth Greene gave him that look, too - the look that he had seen other's give to each other, but never to him - the look that screamed that someone was interested in you, the look that shouted out that they were actually attracted to you.

And whenever he saw that look from her, Daryl Dixon did what he did best: he ran.

Cause goddamnit, he was a dumbass. A stupid piece of white-trash, some dumb redneck who couldn't even muster up the courage to say a couple of words to a pretty girl. He was such a fucking idiot and he knew it, too, which rarely made any of it feel better - if anything, it usually made him feel worse; much worse, to the point where Daryl wanted to do nothing more than hide in his shitty cabin in the middle of the woods where he lived alone and never come out into the daylight again.

"So, what can I get you to eat, Mister Dixon?"

When she addressed him like that, he couldn't resist the urge to look at her - no matter how much he really wanted to. His deep blue eyes met with her own - a much lighter, softer blue than his; much more pure and clear and innocent, too - and even though he tried his hardest not to look anywhere but her eyes, he couldn't help but notice the way in which she swallowed as she looked at him, as though she was all sorts of nervous about being around him.

Daryl cleared his throat and snapped his eyes back to the menu that was still gripped firmly in his hands before he told her his order; choosing to settle for some pancakes with syrup this morning, choosing to have a bit of a sweeter treat than normal. Beth scribbled it down on her notepad and her cheeks turned that tempting colour of crimson again, and Daryl couldn't help but wonder what it was that she was thinking of as she jotted down his order.

There had been a moment before when she had done something similar, but as soon as her face had turned a shade of beetroot red, Beth had shoved that notepad in her back pocket and scurried towards the kitchen to grab his drink like her whole life depended on her getting there and back as quick as she possibly could.

Maybe she was just exhausted, and that was why she was acting so strangely; after all, Daryl supposed she did look tired, all messy-hair and dark bags under her bright eyes (although it was clear that she had tried to hide them with her make-up, but she had failed - at least, to him, anyway).

Still, it didn't matter to him just how tired she looked.

As far as Daryl Dixon was concerned, Beth Greene always looked pretty.

After she had scribbled down his order, Beth offered him another one of her smiles as she told him that T-Dog wouldn't be long whipping up his order.

Daryl wanted to smile back at her and tell her that he knew; he knew because T-Dog never took long to make his food and always did a damned good job of it, too, even at this early hour, and that he knew because Beth never made him wait for it, either, she always grabbed the plate as soon as T-Dog put it on the side and she always brought it straight over to him, reminding him that it was hot and that he needed to be careful of it.

But he didn't do any of that. Didn't do it because he was Daryl Dixon; dumbass extraordinaire who couldn't even speak whenever a woman was around him, never mind Beth fucking Greene. Cause she was too pretty and too perfect and too distracting to the point where all he could do was offer her small glances and head nods and mumbled words and grunts.

Still, Beth carried on beaming at him nonetheless as she tucked her pen back behind her ear and made her way over to one of the other booths that was now empty. Daryl watched as the young woman scooped up the money that had been left on the table before she carried it over to the till, depositing all of it into the drawer before closing it with a ping. Unable to help himself, he frowned as he watched her; watched as she settled herself back down onto the bar stool and as she picked up her book, opening it up and starting to read once more.

Beth didn't even look the slightest bit upset or annoyed or even disappointed about the fact that the customer hadn't bothered to tip her - not even a fucking dollar. Instead, she looked calm and peaceful as she started reading her book, and it was in that moment that Daryl realised just how good Beth Greene really was; even if he didn't need a reminder about it, even if he just knew because it was her and who else on this planet could be a better person than her?

And Daryl Dixon may not have been raised to be a gentleman, but he made sure that he tried his best to be, anyway, and he always made sure that he tipped when he came here - especially when it was Beth Greene who served him. Hell, it wasn't even just 'cause she was the prettiest girl that he had ever seen; it was because she was kind and charming and funny, and she always made an effort to smile and to be pleasant and to be quick, and Daryl had never seen her get even the most complicated or picky of orders wrong or confused.

But today, Daryl's meal would probably only cost him five dollars or so; probably not even that, really. And he'd make sure that instead of just leaving a ten dollar bill for her, he'd leave a twenty.

And yeah, maybe he would leave her that much of a generous tip just because she was Beth Greene; prettiest and kindest girl in town, the girl with the blonde hair and big blue eyes and even bigger heart.

But hell - who the fuck cared?