Daryl hesitantly sat in the chair outside of the cabin, his eyes scanning the thick foliage around him. The wind was cold on his bare chest as the winter winds tepidly lashed him. A sweet song was hummed about behind him, which made his mind wonder slightly and his body goose bump. Ever so carefully quiet snips echoed out as his hair began to fall from his head and onto his shoulders. Snip, snip, snip. The air began to tickle his bare ears. The duo had found a pair of scissors in the bathroom and it was Daryl's turn to be groomed. "How's it looking?" Daryl asked hesitantly. "Stop moving!" Beth groaned as she grabbed his head to reline it. He rolled his eyes. Snip, snip, snip went the scissor for what felt like a lifetime. Dark ashen brown fell onto the soil in a mixture of dead leaves and hair.
Eventually she called out. "Ha! I reckon you look fresher than a daisy!" She beamed as she admired her handiwork. She walked to face him with a proud strut in her cowboy boots and rested her hand on his knee to support her body weight as she made the last few snips to his fringe, leaning in and concentrating deeply, her pink tongue poking out ever so slightly.
Daryl grunted "Yeah, and happier than a dead pig in sunshine." There was something deeply embarrassing about being groomed.
Beth made a sharp huff noise and spun around on her heels, her arms crossed on her chest. "You know, aint nobody else going to give you a haircut out here, well, one you'd like" she pouted.
Daryl squinted with a smug look on his face "Dunno, some of those walkers might have been hairdressers, maybe still got the flair for it". He rubbed his chin that was overgrown with wispy bits of hair.
"Well good luck getting them to do your beard! Cause I aint." she stated as she rushed her way indoors, slamming the large wooden door behind her. Daryl laughed and stood up to shake the hair off himself "Come on Beth!" he yelled "Im just joking!" He waited a few moments, quite wanting his beard to be trimmed until he realised she was holding her ground and he would need to go in and apologise.
Since the two of them had been living together in such tight quarters there had been a lot of give and take, compromise and power struggles here and there. She was no longer a child and he wasn't just her protector. They were equals and equals have arguments. As he entered the cabin the heady smell of stew hit his nostrils and he stared at the petite frame on her tiptoes that braided her damp hair in the mantle piece mirror. A sense of guilt hit him. She'd be cooking away all day, even skinned the animal herself and he'd been ungrateful as she had stretched herself further to cut his hair. A painful pang hit his heart and he regretted his earlier comments. He came up behind her and placed his arms around her waist. "Sorry Beth." He mumbled. At his touch she dropped down onto the balls of her feet and he felt her body de-tense. He let his head rest on top of hers as he cradled her for a moment. Warmth. Contact. He melted into her.
That is, until the point of her boot heel shot into his shin. "Fuck" he yelled as she broke his grip. "Guess I deserved that" he mumbled as he lent down to rub his bruised leg. Beth strode over to the pot above the fire and lifted the heavy cast iron lid. An array of rich smelling steam erupted up into the chimmney. "Dinners ready" she smiled.