Daryl Dixon was running late.
Again.
It took all the self-control he had in him to not cuss out loud with Oliver balanced on his left arm. In no way was he in the mood for the twenty-three-month-old boy to repeat the one thing he insisted on repeating in day care. It was just 7:10 and the 7:15 bus had already left, making him miss it by only a few steps. If that's what he gets for waking Oliver up at half past six to catch an earlier bus that would not be affected by the quarter to eight traffic, he'd rather just be late on purpose to make the kid less whiny.
In that very moment when Daryl was distracted checking how long it would be until the next bus arrived, Oliver started wriggling around, kicking his little denim-clad legs and thrashing his torso.
"Goddamnit, Oli," Daryl grumbled, his other hand flying to the child's back to make sure he didn't fall backwards. Rather than mimicking Daryl, Oli continued fussing, grumbling, squealing and thrashing his legs and arms against his father.
"Ya really think I wanted to wake you up half an hour early? Calm down," Daryl muttered, knowing full well that Oli didn't necessarily understand, nor care what Daryl was saying. What he did care for however, was being a right pain in his father's neck.
"Bus! Bus!" Oli shrieked at the top of his lungs, unknowingly kicking Daryl where the sun doesn't shine.
"Fuckin' hell!" Daryl yelped, keeling over and securing an arm around Oli's legs to keep them from causing any further damage.
"Fukinnn 'ell!" Oli shouted, suddenly grinning from ear to ear. Once again, Daryl wondered whether this definitely wasn't Merle's kid. Not seriously, of course. But the child sure did resemble Merle when he made Daryl's life a misery. Luckily, there was no one there to scowl or grumble at Daryl.
Despite his plight, Daryl looked up to see what Oliver was so excited about. Sure, it was a bus- but the 12A, which went the long way around; past the farms, the high school and the hospital. It still went past the day care that was located next to the elementary school- in fact, it terminated the stop after. However, it added an extra twenty minutes to the journey, making it a thirty-five-minute bus ride with a fussy child that had an aversion to keeping still.
Deciding to try his luck, considering the other bus would get there in another twenty minutes, Daryl fished his bus pass out of his back pocket and hailed the bus down.
"Shouldn't be too bad," He muttered to Oliver, who was frowning and trying to kick his little legs under Daryl's steel grip. "Ya ain't kickin' me again, kid,"
Oliver's frown deepened and his entire face flashed red. "FuU-"
"This really ain't the time for this," Daryl told his son as calmly as he could, balancing the child on his hip and bouncing him around as he flashed his bus pass and quickly shoved Oliver's dummy in his mouth.
He couldn't believe Oliver at times like these. The kid was as quiet as Daryl had been as a young boy, but when Oliver did decide to speak in public, it was rarely something that reflected how hard his father tried to raise him properly. Daryl himself didn't see the fuss about swearing, but even he cringed at the thought of his son walking around swearing like Merle. That was the reason for Daryl's somewhat estranged relationship with his brother, and his effort to refrain from swearing around Oliver. Daryl had never cared much for school, nor did he ever consider a mother something necessary in his life. He had been so detached from all of that, until this inconvenience entered his life.
That was how he saw his son when that girl, Ania, had told him she was pregnant and in fact, she was not going to abort it, because she did not believe in that. Yet somehow she believed in abandoning a five-day-old kid. Daryl didn't want a kid, at first. He just wanted to live and die in peace. And he almost did, until he saw Oliver open his eyes from the incubator, so frail after being born five weeks early, and his hearse cry so pathetic that it broke Daryl's heart.
Oliver had his mother's field-mouse coloured hair and his father's blue eyes. He was tall for his age, and his cherubic face somehow stood out from all the other chubby little faces in his day care group. Maybe it was Daryl being an overbearing parent who saw his child in a brighter light than the other dribbling, screaming children. But Oliver definitely was a beautiful child, with his almost "exotic" (as so kindly put by the nursery nurse, who also couldn't find the right word to describe him) Slavic features; the snub nose, the heart-shaped face and high cheekbones that could be easily seen even with all of his baby fat. Thin but defined rosy lips and almond-shaped eyes. Yet despite these obviously Slavic features, Oliver still resembled his father. Daryl didn't question the child's paternity when Oliver opened his eyes from that nap, on that day Daryl almost gave him up.
And from that moment, his entire life changed. His entire outlook on life, and his reasoning for his thirty-three years of existence. Those pathetic thirty-one years he had lived through before this child came into his life had reason. All the nightmarish things he had seen now only seemed like a lesson to him; a lesson of what his son's life would never look like while Daryl lived. Daryl wanted Oliver to finish high school and make something of himself. He wanted Oliver to have a loving home, which he did- even without a mother.
Distracted by his thoughts and rubbing Oliver's tummy, Daryl didn't notice Oliver's chubby fingers wrapped around the waterfall of blonde hair hanging on the seat in front of them. Daryl quickly grabbed Oliver's little hands, trying to untangle the golden strands from his tiny fingers.
"Oli, let go," Daryl told his son, embarrassed. Oliver wouldn't, and he began grizzling like a ridiculously hairless bear when Daryl kept trying to gently guide his hands away.
"It's alright," Came a laugh. Daryl soon realised it was the girl in front of them speaking. He watched as she slowly turned her head as much as she could without snatching her hair from Oli's death grip.
"Sorry, he-" Daryl started, then suddenly it was as if the words had been taken from his mouth. The girl, even twisted around in an uncomfortable angle, was beautiful. Her smile was the kind of genuine, wide smile that could even melt Daryl like butter. Her eyes were bright with amusement and when she made a fuss of Oliver, it was like the genuine amazement of a kid when it sees an adorable kitten.
"It's no bother, really." She smiled again, sitting up carefully. After two minutes, she took a deep breath and said to Daryl, "It seems that my hair is keeping him happy, so if you'd like, I can take him onto my lap for the rest of the journey and keep him busy, and you of course, can come sit here."
The girl patted the seat next to her, upon which a blue backpack was perched.
Daryl didn't know what to say, and stared at her in dazed wonder for a moment. Get yourself together, Dixon. It's just a girl.
"Or not…" She giggled, a hint of a blush spreading across her pretty cheeks. "Sorry, that may have been a bit forward. You see, I'm studying to be a nurse and-"
"No," Daryl cleared his throat. "Sorry. I meant, if you want. If it ain't no bother. The kid can't keep his hands away from long hair."
"We already have something in common then, little man!" The girl laughed as she sat up straight and took Oliver into her arms, settling him on her lap. "And what might your name be?"
Oliver was a shy kid, and it took a prompt or two from her and Daryl to lisp out "Owiverrrr".
"Well, Oliver, that sure is a lovely name," She grinned at the boy, and then at his father, who had sat down in the seat next to her after she singlehandedly pulled her backpack off it and kicked it under her feet. "I'm Beth. Beth Greene."
"Daryl Dixon." He told her, shaking her free hand that wasn't holding Oli securely.
"So how old is he?" Beth asked cheerfully, not wincing once when Oliver pulled on her hair a bit too hard. At the same time as Daryl said "twenty-three months,", Oliver thrust his little fist in front of Beth's face, sticking up his pointy finger.
"Silly daddy," Oliver's most used public words came out, making Beth burst into adorable, contagious giggles at the same time as Daryl smirked and tickled Oliver's tummy.
And just like that, with her contagious giggle, bright eyes and sunshine, Beth Greene entered the lives of Oliver and Daryl Dixon.
Hi! I don't know where this story is going, nor how often I will be able to update. I have lots of work and this storyline just seemed too cute a daydream to not write down. I apologise if it isn't very good- my creative writing skills have become quite rusty over the past year. Werka xo
