Author's Notes: Have I mentioned the hell working retail during the holidays is? XD Still, I hope you like.
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She's fairly certain that he's not gonna spook. Still, Beth finds herself moving carefully, softly when she wakes up before Daryl does, her hands barely brushing his skin. They're a tangle in the sheets, having fallen asleep all linked limbs and fused skin. It's warm under his quilts now, the fur of the top cover tickling her cheeks. Beyond the covers the air is chilly around her nose and forehead, dawn still blue through the attic windows. Daryl will wake on his own soon enough, and Glenn's watch would be ending right about now. He'll light all the fires before going to bed with Maggie, and in an hour Daryl will take his shift.
Thus, they don't need to be up with the dawn today, but they will be anyway, out of habit. Beth presses her face to Daryl's shoulder, warming her cheeks up, hoping they're allowed some time to linger in their nest. Brushing his hair back from his face, tracing his cheekbones with her fingertips, Beth notes how relaxed he is in his sleep, more-so than she'd ever seen when he slept in the front room. She hopes to keep it that way, dipping her head to kiss the scar on his chest, and then his shoulder, his lips.
That's when he finally stirs. Slowly too, no starting awake, alarmed, like she'd seen happen countless times over the years. Now Daryl slowly hums against her mouth, his firm arms snaking around her waist as he kisses her back. Her slight, strong frame caged in his embrace, Beth grins, reaching up to run her hands through his hair again. "Mornin'."
"Mornin'," His voice is rough, gravelly, as he's easily turning her over and into the quilts. Beth feels her heart thudding in her chest as he dives in unafraid, unhindered. She's seen him like this when he's protective, when he's fighting. Never with another person. Hints of it, maybe...it makes her shiver under his hands all over again, stomach flopping around, in a good way. She'd wanted all of him for so long it seems, and now she has all of him and it's terrifying and wonderful. It's also still fragile and wild, and Beth hopes to hell she can handle it.
She's doing all right thus far, at least.
"Got any chores that need doin'?" She murmurs sleepily with a coy little smirk, as she's locking arms and legs around him. Daryl grins, ducking his head, lips brushing her ear.
"They'll keep," He murmurs back, "Got plenty t'do right here." Beth snorts, snickering in the blue-dark for a few moments before he just about renders her breathless.
Last night had been a little awkward, sure, all elbows and angles and figuring each other out. It had also been sweet and fiery and aching and far better than anything she could have ever thought up. She knows he's been with other women, yet something about their attachment had always reduced Daryl to someone much younger, less assured of himself. As such, Beth hadn't felt at all alone in the new experience. Both of their nerves had been keyed up and raw, buzzing skin meeting skin, desperate and heated.
This morning is far more languid, easy, though still as if they're crashing into each other, hungry for the wreck of boney limbs and sated flesh they'd make together. Now that she kinda knows what she's doing (and knows that Daryl won't run off on her), Beth takes her time and so does he, moving against each other with intent, hands everywhere, ribs and arms and legs sliding against each other, his lips never far from some unexplored inch of her skin. "How d'you stay so soft?" He asks quietly, lips to her shoulder as his hips press into hers, as her fingers curl in his hair.
"S'called soap," She gasps, grinning, shutting her eyes and just savoring the feel of him inside of her, rolling her hips up to meet him. He swears against her skin like some soft, unholy prayer as she starts moving in turn, meeting his rhythm. Daryl's mouth covers hers in that starved, desperate way that just about kills her, the way that says everything he doesn't voice. Beth can only give her answer in turn, wrapping her legs around his waist as he thrusts into her.
He pulls her close afterward, after she cries out his name to the rafters, raw lips all in her hair as she's still shaking. Beth presses her cheek to his chest, shutting her eyes, the sweat cooling sharply on the bits of skin that weren't under covers. His thudding heart by her ear, she finds herself with the ridiculous, yet somehow perfectly natural desire to sink into his skin, to somehow become even closer. Daryl's arms almost painfully tight around her, Beth gets the distinct notion that she is not alone in such absurd, lovely thinking.
"...Love you too, by the way..." She whispers, and he snorts, chuckling into her hair.
"Jesus, girl, gettin' all mushy on me already," He jokes, voice low and ragged before kissing the top of her head, and Beth sighs happily. She feels him shifting, looking up at the hazy light through their window slowly turning...well, less blue. "S'pose I better go relieve Glenn..."
"Mmm, if you've got to, I guess," Beth sighs, smirking when Daryl catches her mouth with his yet again. Then he's untangling himself from her, cursing up a storm as soon as the cold morning air hits his body. She can't help laughing a little, watching him yank on his jeans, shirt and thick socks as fast as he can. Though not, thankfully, before Beth gets a proper eye-full of his lean frame. All rough muscle and sinew marked by her nails, her mouth. He doesn't even flinch when he brushes the dark bruises she'd left across his collarbones last night, just gives her a cocky grin, reaching for his stash of cigarettes and burying them in his jacket pocket.
"Well, see y'round, I guess," Daryl jokes, dryly, his grin persistent as he bends to kiss her one more time before he goes. Beth burrows back down in the quilts, biting her lip, watching him go. She only has so long before her chores as well, but...something about prolonging the moment before anyone else had to know about how things had shifted, is appealing.
So is staying the hell under some warm blankets, of course.
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Clearing his head as he works his way through the floors of the house, Daryl still has a rather persistent smirk around his features by the time he's in the front room. Glenn is building the fire up in the wood stove, and their adult guests are already awake as well, dressed and folding up the couch and bedding for the day. Both Simon and Marco look loads better, more alive even, after a full night's sleep on full stomachs. Well enough to pitch in, in fact.
"Hey," Daryl nods to Simon, pointedly ignoring Glenn's wry, amused and knowing gaze. "Ever milk a goat?"
"Er, I've milked cows, back in Amish country...?" Simon blinks, and Daryl grins, tossing him one of their spare, thick canvas coats.
"Good enough. I hate it. Lemme introduce you t'Nelly..."
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Beth hums all through her morning chores, but that's nothing new. Maybe she is a little more light on her feet though, sliding across the chilly kitchen floor in two pairs of wool socks. The kettle sings and she presses the crushed, fresh herbs into the tea strainer as always, letting the tea brew in the pot while she put on oats to cook and bread to toast on the wood stove grate. It's all the same routine, really, Maggie hurrying across the yard from the garage with the baby in arms at the same time Karen comes downstairs, yawning. It's just like any other morning among the adult women of their group.
Only now Beth is humming something sappy by Lou Reed, and she's poured three cups of what they affectionately deem "moon tea", instead of two. Stepping into the kitchen and immediately reaching toward the counter for her waiting, steaming mug of steeped herbs, Maggie pauses, blinks, and gives her sister a wide-eyed stare, while Karen has already started chuckling.
"Finally," The latter grins, pouring her tea into a thermos, "Turns out all the excuse he needed was 'the gay couple took my couch'?"
"Very funny," Beth retorts, knowing she's blushing and not really caring. Maggie's continued stare has her a little unnerved, though, over Orion's flailing, talkative baby form. "...Aren't you the one who's had bets goin'?" She finally asks, clearing her throat, plucking up her own mug and taking a long sip of hot pennyroyal, mint and dandelion leaf.
"S'not that..." Maggie says around her tea, seeming to shake herself out of her thoughts and back to the present, "I mean, thank god, ya'll were getting ridiculous, s'just..." She sets Orion in his highchair and moves to help with breakfast, while Karen is pulling on her boots and coat, heading outside. She's on duty feeding the animals this morning, "The reality of it, is all." Maggie sums up, when the door closes behind her. Beth understands.
"I'll be fine," She says firmly, though she knows what her sister sees. Hell, Beth saw it every day in the mirror. While her expressions had grown older, her body stronger, Beth is still small. Maggie got the hardier build, Beth's remains slight. If the herbs ever failed her...
"...Way to be downer sis, jeez." That gets Maggie laughing, snorting, sighing as she drains her cup.
"Yer right, sorry, and with you bein' all responsible right away an' all," The elder Greene concedes, stirring the oatmeal on the range, "Congratulations."
"Why thank you," Beth feels her cheeks grow ever warmer, her smile wider as she turns the toast.
"You two are somethin', too," Her sister goes on, thoughtfully, fondly, "He loves you like crazy, you know."
"It's mutual," Beth murmurs, ducking her head.
"Course it is, I 'aint blind," Maggie kisses the side of her head as she passes, reaching for last night's butter for the oats, "...Gotta say, though," Her tone goes wry again, and Beth cocks a brow. Maggie is all evil grins, "Daryl Dixon in the sack, I think most of us've wondered..."
"And ya'll can keep right on wonderin'," Beth states primly. Her red face and the teeth digging into her bottom lip are telling enough. Maggie busts out laughing, whistling, and patting her sister on the back. She eases up, of course, when Judith and her new friends wander in.
Judith is perceptive as ever though, and had the face of a wee girl who just knows that her 'parents' have become much happier together. With her little arms around her waist, Beth finally allows herself to indulge in the full bliss of what had evolved, as she makes the whole household their breakfast.
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The barn isn't as cold as it might be, what with the scrounged blankets and foam insulating and semi-sound-proofing the walls, the animals in their cozy sawdust and straw. Still, the cold does frost the inside of one's nose, and Daryl wonders if a stove in the barn might not be prudent, at least for a couple hours a day. He might be floating a bit, but Daryl aint off his guard, and he kind of prides himself on this fact. Life may happen as it would, bad or wonderfully, amazingly good, he could keep his head on task. And at the moment, he'd eyes on the walls and an ear trained on Simon's chatty nature, now that the man wasn't starving to death.
"These animals are very healthy," The other man notes presently, having eased one of the nannies within moments, milking her easily, "Not that I've worked with many goats, but I mean, some things are universal. They're good weights, giving good milk..."
"S'a miracle then, considerin' we lost our vet a couple years back," Daryl notes, carefully filling troughs for the pigs and goats with their rationed feed, grain and leftovers from the house, mostly. He feels Simon's eyes on his and Karen's operation, the latter tending the out of season piglets in the far corner.
"You had a proper doctor for a while, then?"
"Beth an' Maggie's pa, yeah," Daryl nods, slapping the biggest hog on the haunch. He was a fat, tender bastard, but also one of their only sires. His bacon remained safe for another season. "Tough ol' man, too. Survived losin' a leg, treatin' folks through a nasty flu...lived long 'nuff to know his oldest was havin' his grandkid." He shakes his head, knowing he's rambling. Daryl's pretty sure he can be forgiven, though, for his lingering thoughts of Hershel. He wonders if the man would be all right with he and Beth...Daryl's inclined to believe he would, which is saying something about the state of his self esteem. Hershel had died with Daryl's promise in his ears, that he'd protect his girls with his life...
"That's real lucky," Simon is saying, sighing, setting a full milk pail aside and moving his stool over, tempting Nervous Nelly to his side, "Doctor of any kind would've been a boon to us, times past..." His head tilts as he milks, and Daryl glances his way as he speaks up again, "Y'know, we passed by a feed store up on route 4..."
"Eh we've seen it," Daryl replies, shrugging, "Didn't bother though, too many experiences of findin' grain eaten out by rats or bugs, if it aint gone to mold."
"No, that's just it," Simon interjects, actually looking up and grinning this time, "This place was small, independent, I'm guessing. All their feed was stored in air-tight bins, in sealed rooms." Daryl blinks, tilting his head, listening a fair bit closer now, "We had no means to do much with the oats, seed and such. But the controlled rooms had some canned things, an employee pantry. Nabbed some cups of soup, weren't stale at all. We heated up some oats in hot water, they were fine. Just...no means of keeping them, until we found you folks."
"...Huh," Daryl responds, thoughtfully, eying the few sacks of feed they had to their farmstead. They'd planned to fill in with plenty of dried corn and leftovers, but their flocks were growing and that wouldn't cut it for long. Real grain seed and oats would go a long way. "...Right, let's say a few days from now, and after a few good meals, you lot show us this place, yeah?"
"S'the least we can do in return," Simon replies earnestly, and Daryl decides he's liking this guy more and more.
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