WARNING: This is a work of Bethyl fanfiction, meaning that I am making up scenes and situations that are not true to the show*and have the intended results of a Beth+Daryl pairing.
*also ignoring the comics because these characters don't exist/interact in that world
Minor edits for sentence structure will occur in the AM. Please excuse a foggy sentence in the meantime. 3
SUMMARY: This can be considered either a standalone work, or part two of my last Bethyl fanfic, Claimed, whichever you like. This takes place in the winter in an unknown location, after the events of Season Four have long since wound down.
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One perk of apocalyptic life was that once again weather could surprise.
Sure, the leaves had fallen and the grasses had browned and curled, but the more time passed and the further they traveled, the less Daryl could judge the months. The days were short and cold and the nights stretched on into groaning chaos. Winter was coming; that much Rick's group had known when they settled into a ransacked community of crooked gates and broken bottle streets.
They'd done what they could to secure the place, made extra runs and welcomed a few additional members into the fold. Frosted flesh and frozen eyes were a welcome relief each morning; the walkers were slowing, freezing in mud and mires and growing sluggish in the waning days.
Yes, Rick's group knew winter was coming, they just hadn't expected the high clouds to drop six inches of fine powder over one afternoon. What's more, the heavens seemed full enough to triple that total overnight.
The wind sprayed snow against the siding and funneled gusts through the community that had gathered into a two-story duplex to conserve firewood and heat. There weren't enough rooms for everyone to have their own, so families had chosen to huddle together and the singles of the group were left to the task of pairing up.
Not that there was any privacy these days anyway. Doors remained open and the sounds of people being people drifted through the halls and occasionally made Daryl wish he was back drinking with Merle.
"You've got first shift," Carol was saying. Her hand against his made him straighten. "I've gotta wake for midnight and there's no point in the bed being empty half the night. Hop in with me."
"Yeah, sure." He'd almost missed her tentative smile, distracted by Beth as she dropped a blanket into his hands. Before the quilt sprite could zip away he piled it back onto the stack beneath her chin and grabbed his crossbow off the floor. "I'll be out."
"Oh. Carol, here." Beth passed it to the older woman, who nodded her thanks and trotted down the hall to the assigned room. "Should be quiet tonight," she said, lingering beside him a moment.
"M'hopin so." He fiddled with an arrow.
"Deer'll be easy to track tomorrow."
"If you can stand the cold."
She shook her head- then something caught her eye and she laughed, elbowing his wrist. "You're not seriously going to stand out there in those gloves, are you? They're paper thin. Take some from the trunk we found in the attic. You know what, I'll bring them down once I'm-"
"Daryl." Eugene stepped between them, immediately lifting the load from the girl's arms. "Beth, allow me."
"Thank you. Seems like I've been stepping on ends all night."
"I've noticed." He edged out Daryl to meet Beth's eyes.
She blushed.
"Where are you sleeping tonight?"
Daryl hadn't thought to ask the question, but what had been mild disinterest in Beth's attempt to get on a hunting trip with him (he knew a snowball'd be headed his way) quickly dissolved into curiosity.
"With Rick, Carl, and Judith. It's tight."
Honestly he didn't really trust Carl to keep his hands to himself, but he trusted Rick's son a whole lot more than the man currently beaming at Beth.
"I'm not a small man, but I'm not big enough to take up a queen alone. If you want-"
"I'd love that."
"Maggie's not gonna like that," Daryl said. Beth looked surprised, as though she'd forgotten he was there, and added:
"We're all adults here."
Daryl removed himself from the wall he'd leaned against and took to the front door.
Beth reached for his arm."Where you going? I was getting you gloves."
"Don't need 'em," he said, pulling away. He tried to ignore Eugene pointing out that she'd be better off wearing multiple light layers instead of one heavy sweater. "Have fun playin house."
"Why's he have to be that way," he heard her ask before the door slammed shut.
Perhaps two hours had passed in the storm; the inches piled on thick and heavy as moisture settled into the air. He was more a house perimeter guard tonight; the visual range was too small to do more than trust that the cold and fences would hold the gated community safely until sunrise.
Firelight stretched out the door and shadowed the snow as Eugene stepped through the doorway. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing toward a porch rocking chair. "You've been on your feet this whole time."
"Makin sure we all survive."
"You really think that's what this is about?" When Daryl failed to accept the invitation, Eugene kicked his feet out and sent it into motion himself. The two men watched the snow a few minutes, before Eugene spoke. "Your goal might be to survive, but some of us plan to rebuild as a species. Young women like Beth are the future, not its past. She admires you. You should treat her with more respect."
"What do you care?"
"As a red blooded male with limited options around, I don't understand why you wouldn't. The old won't be repopulating this earth. We're headed back to the days of twelve sibling families."
"And I'm disrespecting her." Daryl settled for snapping an icicle off the porch roof instead of one of Eugene's fingers. "She ain't somebody's whelping bitch. Specially ain't yours."
"No, you and I both know that. Which is why I am taking her under my wing. As the most protected member of this group, she'll be safe both tonight, and later, more permanently."
"Pick somebody else." It wasn't a request, but it may as well have been judging by Eugene's bark of laughter.
"Carol? Michonne? They're done. Maggie, Sasha, and Rosita are taken." He traced the chair's arm. "You're a survivor, Daryl. A damned good one, one we owe our lives to. But the future demands men of substance, men with a desire to do more than survive. Beth wants to live. Live, which is something you're not built for doing. She's a housecat. You're a tom. She's better off inside, somewhere safe and warm where she can live a long life."
Daryl didn't speak for several minutes, the creak of the battered rocking chair a reminder that his future wasn't in the new world; it belonged in the current one. Not a breath or groan broke the stillness in the night air. The main street lights had all burned out or broken years ago, but the snow blanketed tragedy by laying the foundation for a new beginning. And he thought that seasons changed the landscape yearly, and wondered if the world could kill and destroy and freeze, if he might one day thaw. Maybe even put down some roots.
He dropped the crossbow in Eugene's lap. The man who'd lapsed into a smug catnap nearly fell out of his chair.
"You're on watch four more hours."
"Survive 'til I'm back."
Flakes peppered the panes and Daryl's hair as he marched around the house, counting windows until he'd found the right one. Raising a fist, he rapped sharply on the glass.
Silence.
As he prepared to knock again, the window shot up to reveal a blanketed Beth. "Jesus, Daryl! You scared the heart outta me. What the hell're you doing here?"
"Sorry." As if mindful of the temperature, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth at the sight of her. He'd caught her in the process of pulling out her braids; the freed blond strands framed her face in soft waves.
Beth leaned out, complexion gleaming like snow as she dusted powder off the sill and peered into the spiraling darkness. "You see something? Want me to call Rick?"
"No."
"So what is it?" Relief escaped her mouth in the form of a soft white puff and a girlish shiver. "Hurry up. It took me forever to warm this room and now the heat's all run out."
Daryl drummed his knuckles against a panel of siding bent beneath the weight of snow and thought about Eugene and housecats and somewhere safe and warm. After everything they'd endured to this point she deserved that future, but he also knew he couldn't deliver it.
"Got a dry pair of gloves?"
She mumbled a response and disappeared into the depths of the room for a minute, rubbing her arms all the while. "They're not that warm," she rambled upon return, blowing softly into each to heat the interiors for him. "That's the best we've got. Give me the old ones and I'll lay them out by the fire."
"Thanks." He slid his fingers through the lukewarm fleece and turned to leave. "I'll bring 'em in later. Get back under the covers. Eugene'll be back soon."
A tug on his collar stopped him cold.
"Let's have them."
Under the scrutiny of her bright blue eyes he relented, pulling the gloves out of his back pocket and handing them over.
"Daryl, these aren't even damp." He watched her expression shift from surprised to quizzical. As her mouth opened, likely to scold him for waking her up for nothing, fire rushed through his veins. He grabbed her by the shoulder and kissed the base of her neck until his lips warmed and the pressure and motions of his mouth reddened her skin. Her nails slipped past his cheek and into his hair, either pushing him off or pulling him in, he wasn't sure and didn't care.
"Claimed," he whispered against the hair she'd hastily pulled over the fresh mark.
She slapped him good and hard and deservingly.
"G'night, Beth."
"Daryl Dixon, you ain't the one who does the claiming," she called after him in a hushed tone, as though afraid someone might hear.
His cheek stung, but he expected nothing less from a lady.
Yes, he liked Beth's future. More importantly, he'd just chosen to fight for a place in it.