A/N: This chapter isn't quite ready for posting, but my husband is insisting I come to bed. Figured I'd post what I got and worry about it tomorrow. Thanks for all the follows, they warm my heart!
Daryl Dixon was a dick when he was drunk. I would have never pushed him to drink had I known. But the experience wouldn't have felt as complete had he not joined me in having my first drink. This world was cemented into something awful. Living on the road, fighting for your life, killing walkers. There was so much life I had not yet experienced and just needed something to remind me what it was worth living for.
I didn't expect him to be so upset by my question about jail. I certainly wouldn't have thought any differently of him had he spent any time in prison. I knew deep down, Daryl was a good man. But that question... something in him snapped. It was barely noticeable at first. A hard flicker in his steel blue eyes that penetrated into me. But then a wave of anger erupted from him that I wasn't prepared for. All of what I was, who I was, was thrown in my face. I was the perfect example of what he wasn't. What he never had or ever experienced.
But I wasn't going to let him tear me down. I fought back. I called him out for what this really was. And he crumbled. He crumbled before me under the weight of his own misplaced guilt. And he cried for what he had lost. Not for the world, not for this whole bloody zombie pandemic, but for what he had finally gained and lost from this god forsaken hell we now lived in.
I held him until his body no longer wracked with tears; my face pressed to the tattered wings of his vest. As his body relaxed, I slowly let go of him, afraid he would shut down again in embarrassment. Instead, with his eyes averted, he reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly a moment before going for his bolts and yanking them free from the walker I killed.
What surprised me even more was when he joined me out on the porch. He sipped slowly at his drink before taking a seat across from me, both of us enjoying the slight breeze of the evening; a blessing from the stifling heat of the day. He was quiet at first, but slowly opened up. But as he spoke, as he told me about his life before, there was something different in him. Like I could see into the depths of his soul. He looked at me, really looked at me. And he would look away as he talked, but when he looked back, he would look back with such intensity. And something about it made my heart race like it never had before.
Watching that house start to burn, our fingers raised to the sky in a proverbial "fuck you" to our past, I knew we would never be the same. I would never see him the same. And maybe somehow, he wouldn't see me the same either.
Ever since that day at the moonshine shack, Beth was able to see Daryl as more than just the brooding hunter. He spoke to her, really spoke to her instead of just the usual grunts. Something relaxed in his face, in his whole body. And she relaxed along with him. She started to enjoy her time with him and it no longer became about being stuck with him; about surviving. It started to become about living. And whether they found their family or not, living with Daryl wasn't sounding so bad after all.
There it was again; that tingle deep down in her belly. Beth knew it wasn't a sight Daryl was prepared for; her in just a towel, still wet from her shower. His reaction awoke that tingle, but he was out the door with his bow before she could do anything about it. She wasn't toying with him, per say. But that tingle in her belly could no longer be ignored.
Beth went through the clothing left by the previous owners, hoping to find something to wear while she washed their clothes. An oversized shirt, whose neckline fell off one shoulder and a pair of pajama pants she could cinch tight with cord would have to do. She was lucky to have picked up some new underwear in the last town they hit.
It was a good hour before Daryl returned from hunting, a tentative knock on the door before he cracked it open, probably still scared to find her dressed in a towel.
"Caught a couple squirrels for dinner." He laid the already cleaned meat on the chopping block before removing his bow and glancing around the room at all she had done while he was gone. The windows were now covered, their bags packed and ready by the door.
Beth grabbed his bow and replaced it with a handful of clean clothes, gently pushing him towards the bathroom. "Shower. Now. And I'll start dinner."
Daryl resisted a moment before nodding his head and going off to shower. He knew he stunk. It had been weeks since either of them had touched a bar of soap. Upon entering the bathroom, more of a closet really, the first thing he noticed was the lack of lock on the door.
Beth heard the water turn on and the telltale gasp as Daryl climbed under the cold stream. She finished chopping up the squirrel meat and adding it to the pot on the stove to simmer. Grabbing the pail she found on the porch, she went to the bathroom, cracking the door open. It creaked noisily before Daryl barked out to her. "Beth! Shower!"
"I know, I know. I'm just getting your dirty clothes." She could see a dim silhouette behind the shower curtain and she studied it a moment. The scent of the shampoo overpowered the room and she closed her eyes enjoying it for a moment. Without another thought, she went to the curtain and thrust her hand inside. "Can I have the soap?"
"Beth!" Daryl barked again. She wiggled her hand a little but didn't pull the curtain back anymore than necessary. He sighed loudly before placing the wet soap in her hand.
He watched her silhouette retreat and head out of the bathroom with a noisy creak of the door. He exhaled roughly before continuing his shower.
After he dried off, he went through the selection of clothes Beth left for him. A pair of underwear a size too large, but manageable. He pulled a face at the plaid pajama bottoms, also a bit too large, but he pulled them on. They fell low on his hips no matter how many times he pulled them up, but he figured there probably wasn't much more than this to choose from. Pulling the wife beater over his head, he realized it was probably the first white thing he'd worn since the world came to an end.
Reluctantly, he stepped out of the bathroom, his nostrils assaulted by the aroma of dinner and his stomach growled in complaint. Beth turned towards Daryl with a wolf whistle and he threw his head back in annoyance.
"Nice pants." she said with a laugh, hanging his vest over the back of a chair.
"Stop. This is only 'til my pants are dry."
"I knew I'd get you out of your pants eventually." Beth smirked, noticing his cheeks pink under her gaze. His eyes bore into hers not knowing what to say. Overwhelmed by the intensity, she broke away first, returning to the stove to give dinner a stir. "Your clothes are clean, can you just hang them out to dry?"
Daryl finally broke away from her, taking the clothes outside to hang on the porch rail. Coming back inside, he stared at her from the doorway. Her long blonde hair was loose and free from it's usual ponytail; it curled delicately around her face and down her back. The oversize shirt hung loosely from her, the creamy skin of her shoulder revealed to him. It almost glowed in the candlelight. She glowed in the candlelight.
"Hungry?" Beth set their plates down at the table, staring up at Daryl in the doorway. He gave a quiet affirmative grunt before joining her at the table.
They ate quietly, both of them stealing the occasional glance before Beth finally broke the silence. "So what do you think? Think we can survive here a bit, catch up on some rest?"
"Mmm-hmm. I already strung up some noise makers in front. We'll probably be able to get a good night's sleep tonight without one of us having to take watch." He scrapped his plate clean as Beth got up to get him another portion. "Nah, it'll probably keep til morning. We should save it."
"Live a little. It's all you've had today." She scrapped the rest of the pot into his plate before licking the spoon clean. He gave her a half smile before digging back in.
She sat across from him watching him eat. Her eyes looked over his face, half hidden by his too long hair. His attention still cast towards his plate, she let her eyes wander down to his chest and arms. He was really quite remarkable, his muscles bulging even without flexing. Staring at him made that tingle return to her belly. When she finally noticed he wasn't eating, she looked up at him and realized he had caught her staring. Her cheeks flushed immediately and she let out an embarrassed laugh.
"I just realized this is probably the most clean I've ever seen you." When he said nothing, she continued. "You even smell good."
He didn't answer right away, his eyes locked with hers before finally going back to finish the last of his plate. "Don't worry, I'll be dirty and smelly again tomorrow."
Beth took their plates and put them in the sink, washing them quickly while Daryl moved around the room. When she had turned back, he had grabbed one of the pillows and blankets off the bed and made a spot for himself on the floor. She stared at the spot, then the bed before watching him disappear into the bathroom. Grabbing his pillow, she returned it to the bed, laying his blanket out before climbing inside.
When Daryl came out of the bathroom, he found Beth in bed, covers tucked up to her chin with a big grin on her face. And no bed where he left it. "Beth, no." He went back to the bed to retrieve his pillow, but Beth pulled it away and grabbed his hand.
"Why not? Don't be silly, you deserve a good night's sleep and you're not going to get that on the floor."
"Beth, it's not right." His voice was stern but he did not drop her hand.
"It's not wrong either. What's going to happen if you sleep in this bed?" She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and sparkling in the candle light. She could see him thinking about it but said nothing. "Daryl, I trust you whether you're sleeping on the floor across the room or you're sleeping right next to me. And the better you sleep, the more protected I'm going to be." He stared down at her, an almost pained look on his face. She slowly returned his pillow to the space next to her and pulled the blankets back.
He finally let her hand go, turning and walking away. She sighed loudly before noticing he was just going to blow out the candles on the table. The room was immediately cast in shadows from a gap left uncovered over the window, the moonlight shining in enough to see him return to the bed and climb in. She smiled wide in the darkness, returning her head to her pillow.
"But if you start to snore, I'm going back to the floor." he huffed.
"Yes, Mr. Dixon."