Hi, I'm back! This is just an AU oneshot (basically, I'm just submerging myself in fluff,so). Enjoy!
Miss Butterscotch
Jolting from her deep sleep, Beth grabs her sheets, flustered and wide awake. For a second she wonders what it was that had woken her up from her blissful sleep until she hears the floor-wide fire alarm drilling excruciatingly loud beeps into her head. In a panic, she throws the covers off her body and jumps out of bed.
"No, no, Miss. Butterscotch come here, girl" she says, reaching out to her cat, who looks wide-eyed and fearful at the sound of the blaring alarms, hunching back against the wall. She tries to make her voice sound soothing, but the panic inside is not letting up.
She hears loud voices outside her door, the tenants all sound panicky to her ears, not knowing what's happening.
"Everyone get out of here! This buildings gonna blow!" The voice yells loud enough for her to hear from inside her apartment. She takes that statement with a grain of salt, however, knowing it's just Mr. Robbins, who has a tendency to say strange things anyway.
Still, panicking a bit, Beth grabs Miss. Bee forcing her to curl into her chest, then runs out her apartment door and into the hallway. Everyone clambers down the stair well, squished against one another. Miss. Bee meows unhappily, hissing at anyone that gets too close (because yes, she is a grumpy, spoiled cat. She knows). After ten minutes of squeezing her way down and out of the stair well, she's finally shoved outside into the crisp night air.
The crowd of tenants are all gathered on the sidewalk, spilling into the road, all whispering and grouching to one another about who they think started the fire. There aren't any cars driving by because of how late (or early, she thinks) it is.
Miss. Bee growls uncomfortably in her arms, not liking all the strangers around. Trying to soothe her, she walks farther away from the building and farther away from the crowd.
"Shhh, shhh, Bee, its okay," she murmurs into her cat's fur.
Bee looks up at her unhappily, grumbling some more, casting a frustrated hiss in her direction.
"Miss. Butterscotch! That is not very ladylike. I know this is stressful, but you better take that back, little missy," she chides Bee with an incredulous look on her face, looking down into her cat's eyes.
Its then that she hears a throat clear to her right and whirls around, looking into the darkness to see who it could be. Standing against the streetlight is none other than. . . well, she doesn't have a name for this man, but. . . him.
Oh, no. No nononono.
She doesn't know his name but she's ran into him a few times before (like literally ran into him). She thinks back on the few interactions they've had, but not without a deep flush blooming across her cheeks.
x
Her arms are grasping onto her grocery bags, fingers digging into them, desperately trying to find purchase. The bags are heavy and full to the brim, but she refuses to make a second trip. No, today was supposed to be her one lazy day, but of course it's that morning when she opens the refrigerator to find it basically completely bare. The only thing left is old milk and well, that just won't do.
Bee had meowed loudly by her feet, expecting her fresh meal as well (because yes, she really is that spoiled).
Grumbling unhappily to herself as she finally makes it back from the store, only to find out the elevators aren't working.
Of-freaking-course.
The grocery bags are bagged so high and full that she has to turn her body side ways to see the stairs under her feet. And no, she's stubborn and refuses to make a second trip. Because today is supposed to be her lazy day that she allows when life gets too hectic. She lounges around eating and watching movies all day and she will not walk up and down those stairs again. No. Absolutely not.
She's almost made it to the fourth floor, to freedom, when she hears a man clear his throat behind her. Startled, she misses a step and somehow ends up thrown backwards, her body slamming hard into the man's chest. His arm snags her waist, making sure she doesn't tumble all the way down the stairs, but she does tumble on top of him.
She watches longingly as most of her grocery items tumble down the stairs to their demise.
"No, noooo," she whispers, letting her head drop dejectedly to his chest. Except she doesn't actually realize it's a chest until she feels him shift slightly beneath her.
She looks up startled, forgetting the man was even beneath her.
He looks down at her a bit flustered, murmuring, "I was, uh, I was gonna ask if you needed any help with your bags." His cheeks are tinted pink at the sight of her staring open mouthed at his words.
She is finally able to take note of the man's dark, shaggy brown hair that hangs over his eyes. When he shifts a bit more, she is able to see his piercing blue gaze, although when he sees Beth staring back at him, he drops his eyes down, flustered, not knowing where to look. One of his hands is still lightly resting on Beth's waist, while the other is twisting nervously against his thigh, obviously not really knowing what to do while still trapped under her body.
The warmth of his hand on her waist is strangely comforting, making sure she won't tumble down the steps to her demise like her poor food. His hand shifts nervously and its then that she realizes that her body is still sprawled out across his own. It's also that moment when she realizes she is sprawled out on top of the body of a very ruggedly attractive man.
"Oh, shit."
Beth Greene was raised by two bible loving parents, and every Sunday she attended her small town church with her family so, no, she doesn't curse. Or she doesn't usually. But she thinks in this situation it's totally called for.
Scrambling off of his chest, he finally allows his hand to slide away from her waist and back down to his side. His expression looks slightly dazed, looking up at her from underneath the fringe of his hair.
"I- uh, shoot, I'm so sorry- oh my lord," she croaks out as she frantically tries to gather what's left of her food at the bottom of the stairs.
He's still just staring at her in a daze, which makes Beth just want to run away, but she would like to keep at least a shred of her dignity, so she hurriedly piles the crushed food into her bag, not really caring what's left at the moment, just wanting to get out of here and curl herself into her blankets and pretend this day never happened.
She feels something wet against her chest and looks down only to see bits of red tomato sauce slowly dripping down, covering her yellow tank top. She stares down at her top for a few moments more in disbelief, because could this situation get any worse?
His boots suddenly come into view, and then he's leaning down reaching to help her wipe away the sauce. Right before his hand with the handkerchief reaches her neck, his eyes go wide, realizing where his hand was headed. The man's hand freezes in mid-air as if conflicted between wanting to help her and also not wanting to invade her personal space.
"I-uh. . ." he starts, desperately trying to get his brain to string a sentence together.
Heart pounding, face as red as the tomato sauce covering her blouse, she grabs the handkerchief from his hands quickly wiping the sauce that's still sliding around her collarbone.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to- oh gosh. Thank you for-" she squeaks out as she grabs what's left of her bags and rushes up the stairs away from his gaze, fumbling for her keys until she is finally able to get the door unlocked. Once inside she quickly closes the door and slides to the floor.
Miss. Butterscotch sits by her feet and meows at her until she is able to get herself together enough to look through the remnants of her groceries. Thankfully, Bee's food is still practically untouched. She'll definitely be eating better than Beth tonight it seems. She won't dare wander back into the hall again today.
x
The memories of their interaction makes Beth's cheeks flush pink, and she looks down to the ground, hoping he won't notice.
"Oh, hi," she murmurs just loud enough for him to hear, embarrassed to be found lecturing her cat.
He puts out the cigarette he'd been holding between his lips, slowly making his way closer to her and Bee.
"Hey, Beth" she's able to hear him grunt over the murmur of the crowd a ways behind them.
She looks up shocked, snapping her head up to look at him in the eyes this time, wondering how on earth he could possibly know her name from just that one interaction.
He must notice her shocked expression as well because his cool demeanor is now gone, his hands rubbing against the sides of his jeans in a nervous manner.
"I-uh, get your mail on accident sometimes. You're 403, right? Beth Greene?" His face looks panicked for a few seconds after saying her whole name out loud. "I aint a stalker or nothin, I swear- I live in 402." His fingers tap against his front pocket, pulling out another cigarette, only to put it away once he realizes he's still standing in front of Beth. "I asked the ol' lady at the front desk and she told me you were Beth Greene and shit-" he breaks off midsentence once she begins to giggle.
She can't help it when a grin stretches across her face, breathy giggles escaping her lips. The fact that this rugged, leather vest wearing, motorcycle riding man gets nervous in front of her is just, well, cute. It's that particular thought that causes her to let out another muffled giggle into Miss Bee's fur.
She thinks back to how she had somehow been able to avoid this man after the incident, although she did have one close call when he'd exited the apartment building out onto the sidewalk when she was just yards away from entering. She'd quickly dodged her way into the alleyway, hidden away from his sight, all the while telling herself just how incredibly stupid she was acting. She'd kept telling herself to go thank him again for breaking her fall, but her embarrassment wouldn't allow it.
Hidden in the alleyway, she'd seen him slide onto his motorcycle and drive away, a set of wings stitched onto the back of the leather vest the man was wearing- the man whose name she still doesn't know.
It's that thought in mind that brings her back to the present, forcing her eyes back up to his face, scanning his features. His expression looks slightly confused, but she can also see a hint of a smirk twitching against his lips, face slowly morphing from confusion to amusement once she looks up.
"Well, since you seem to know all about me," she starts with a smile, "I think it's only fair that I at least know your name, since well, you did kinda save me and all." Her smile never falters, though it does give a nervous twitch once she brings up the incident (that's the only word her mind is able to refer to it as).
The corner of his lips twitch up a bit more at her words.
"It's Daryl. Daryl Dixon. And s'nothin. Don' think I've ever swept a woman off her feet before." His voice is gruff and the hint of a smirk is back on his lips although his cheeks are still tinted slightly pink.
Beth breathes out a huff of a laugh, shaking her head. "Well, thank you Daryl Dixon. I hope I didn't get any sauce on you, although I don't even remember buyin any. . ." Beth trails off as she sees Daryl scuff his shoes back and forth against the sidewalk.
"Actually, I-uh, that was mine," he mutters. "Didn't mean to get it all over you, was just carryin' up a plate of left over spaghetti. Don' really know how it only got on you."
He looks sheepishly at her from under the fringe of his dark hair, hands shoved into his pockets awkwardly.
"Oh, no, I ruined your food too? I'm so so-"
"S'nothin. Really, don't worry 'bout it," Daryl softly assures her.
She finds herself locked into Daryl's gaze, blue on blue boring into her. Once again she's able to notice the stubble, specked with gray that lies across his jawline. His eyes, though barely visible, are a deep shade of cobalt blue.
They both stand there on the sidewalk, staring at each other. The firemen have arrived by now, and though she isn't watching, she can hear them moving amongst the others.
A piercing meow from the cat still cradled in Beth's arms is what finally breaks the odd haze that surrounds them both. Daryl huffs a laugh at the ball of fur who doesn't seem to like being forgotten.
"Miss Butterscotch, huh?" Daryl shuffles a bit closer to get a better look at the furry orange cat.
Beth feels her face flush pink, realizing he'd heard her scolding words to Bee earlier. She only calls Miss. Butterscotch her true name when she's alone or if Bee's in some trouble, but it's just Bee in front of others.
"When I was five years old, My Daddy brought home a little gray kitten. Maggie- that's my sister- and my brother Shawn were both trying to come up with a name for her and I suggested Miss Butterscotch, you know, because I loved butterscotch pudding. 'Course I was outvoted, but I always told myself I would name my cat Miss Butterscotch one day."
Beth then snaps her mouth shut once she realizes the story she'd spoken out loud. Looking up she notices Daryl's smile once again, but this time it's not a smirk, it's a genuine smile, though small and barely noticeable if not being sought out.
Daryl, still gazing at her, lets a deep hum drift from the back of his throat and into the crisp night air. At the sound, Beth feels her body give an involuntary shiver. Its then that she looks down and realizes she's still in her pajamas which consists of a cotton tank top and shorts. They're her favorite pj's actually. Little red ladybugs wearing scarves are scattered about across the cotton material. She tugs at her shorts, feeling self-conscious of her choice in pajamas.
Suddenly he's shifting out of his leather vest and jacket so that he's left in his dark flannel and jeans. Slowly, he holds the jacket out to her a bit, asking permission.
All Beth can do is nod her head dumbly. Her tongue seems stuck to the roof of her mouth, not knowing what to say. Before she can think a moment longer, Daryl is next to her, fingers softly brushing against her as he slides the jacket to rest across her shoulders. He takes a step back giving her some room, which she feels she needs but also definitely doesn't want.
She throws a small, grateful smile in his direction, murmuring her thanks.
By now the firefighters are no longer in the building, declaring a pipe had burst on the fifth floor which ended up setting off the fire alarm.
Beth is thankful that nothing bad had actually happened, but she still feels disappointment at the thought of separating from Daryl.
The warmth of Daryl's hand is suddenly on her back, guiding her toward the building and into the stair well. Most everyone had already shuffled up the stairs before them, eager to get back in bed, so it's just the quiet padding of footsteps and their soft breaths that reach her ears.
Once making it to the fourth floor, Beth quickly unlocks her door so that she can put Miss Butterscotch back inside. Closing the door, she faces Daryl and begins to move the jacket from her shoulders, but before she can take it off, Daryl's holding up his hand.
"Nah, s'alright. I'll get it back another time, yeah?"
Once again the nervousness is back as he avoids her eyes and shuffles his feet a bit more.
Beth can only nod, giving Daryl a hesitant smile before going back inside her apartment and closing the door. Leaning back against the door, she wants to slap herself.
Come on Beth, be brave. You've got this.
With a sudden burst of courage Beth swings her door open only to be met with Daryl, hand up reaching out as if planning to knock. His eyes are wide open, mouth agape. Slowly he brings his hand back down to his side.
They both stay silent for another few moments until Beth is able to get her thoughts back in order.
"You wanna come over for dinner this evenin'? I'm pretty skilled at making spaghetti, and since you never go to eat yours I thought. . ." Beth stumbles over her words, but is proud of herself for actually getting the question out nonetheless.
Daryl's still staring at her, but then jerks his head up and down in a quick nod.
"Yeah, yeah. Sounds good," he says, voice sounding more deep and gravely than before.
"Okay," Beth nods back, breathing out, realizing she'd been holding her breath waiting to hear his answer.
With a boldness she didn't know she possessed, Beth takes a half step towards Daryl so that their chests are practically touching. Daryl slowly leans his face down just a touch as Beth stands on her tiptoes so that their lips can brush together softly, just barely. The weight of his hand on her hip feels like an anchor, keeping her from floating away. Beth feels Daryl's breath stutter in return before she backs away.
"Okay. I'll see you later?" Beth meant it as a statement but it comes out a question instead.
Daryl jerks his head in a nod again in response.
With one final smile, Beth returns to the inside of her apartment, breathing a bit unsteadily, thinking of how Daryl looked so out of his element.
For reasons unknown, Beth stands on her tiptoes so that she can look out of the door's peephole and into the hallway where Daryl is still standing, fingers softly touching his lips where hers had brushed, a small smile on his face.
So when Beth lays back down that night, Miss Butterscotch at her side, no one can blame her for the smile she wears until she drifts back to sleep.
I don't really know where this came from? I may be adding more oneshots to this whenever inspiration hits. Also, the PJ's were inspired by my personal favorite pair! Thank you for reading :)