He's quiet in the morning. She heard him pad down the stairs and can feel his presence in the kitchen door. She lays his plate on the table and watches him for a minute, he looks exposed, tender around the edges.
"Mornin'." He mumbles as he sits.
She smiles at him pressing a kiss to his head, "G'morning."
He looks up from his breakfast every now and then, lets his eyes drift over her.
"I was nervous. Last night."
Daryl's eyes stay on her as he pulls his finger out of his mouth and uses it to pick up the crumbs on the plate. "I'm sorry." Daryl shakes his head a little, "I shouldn'ta asked you…"
"No, I mean… I liked it. I… I just don't know if I'm… doing the right stuff? Saying the right things."
She watches him, his mouth working over his bottom lip.
"I don't want to… take anything to far. Make you do something you wouldn't want."
"Mmhmm."
"I don't want you to regret lettin' me…"
His eyes snap up to hers, he's serious and determined. She knows that look.
"I trust you." He swallows and moves around in his seat. "I'd do anything you asked me. No such thing as regret, not when it comes to me and you, Beth."
She breaks eye contact with him, pushes the eggs around on her plate. "I made you cry."
He grunts and brings his plate to the sink. His hands brace on counter and she can see the muscles tense in his arms. He turns his head towards her, but keeps his eyes on the floor. "No one ever said that to me. Least…not that I remember, not like that."
"It's true, Daryl. You are good."
"Stop." His voice is strained.
Beth moves to stand next to him, lets her hand cover his on the counter for a minute before turning away.
"You are."
Its a few days later, the words have settled in. After they've canned too many tomatoes from Maggie, after they had sex on the couch in the middle of the afternoon, after they've fallen into an easy pattern. Beth's gentle praise whispered quietly in his ear. Her hand wrapped firmly around his wrist. He's starting to rely on these things to ground him and it feels good. It feels right, like he's finally fitting somewhere.
She realizes all it takes is that slight pressure on the inside of his wrist, the same spot she had accidentally bruised that first night, to make him pull his lip into his mouth and focus on her. His shoulders drop, his body relaxes, his eyes stay trained on hers. She knows that he hears her, he might not listen, but he hears her.
The simple action is all it takes to pull him out of the self imposed separation and bring him right there with her. Beth never thought she could exert this kind of power over another person. It thrills her for a minute each time, it's just a minute though, before she's sobered by the thought that he needs it. He needs her reassurance, he needs her.
She can do that, make the decisions, take control when they both need her too. He taught her, he's still teaching her. She has it in her to be that person, she's known it for awhile. But, finally she realizes how much she loves it, and how he needs it. How it's a part of him that she didn't know about, didn't expect and it's a part of her too. She loves him even more for that, for giving it to her. Not just the immense boost of confidence, not just the self-realization, but his trust and love, for giving her himself, for letting Beth give herself to him.
He's sitting on the couch, running wax over the string of a compound bow he found when she moves from the spot she's been sitting in reading.
"Daryl?"
"Mmm?"
She looks nervous and it makes him nervous too. He can feel his heart rate speed up.
"Gimme your hand." He doesn't hesitate and reaches his left hand out to her. He doesn't want to hesitate, ever again, not with her.
She rubs his work-worn palm, drags her fingers over his and moves up to his wrist.
"I wanna give you something…if it's…" She sighs and looks up at him. "If it's not what you want, you have to tell me. Alright?"
"Mmhmm, Alright."
He keeps his eyes on her as she lifts his hand. Beth's lips rest just over the joining of his hand and arm. She undoes the metal snaps on one of her bracelets. It's a small leather cuff that she's been wearing for as long as he can remember. When she presses the snaps closed on him it hurts for a second, the way she has to press into his tendons.
"It's just… I know you like when I hold you there. It's kinda like, I'll be there all the time….or when…whenever you're wearing it." She looks at him. "You don't have to wear it all the time." Her voice drops to a throaty whisper, "Not unless you want to."
Daryl's hand moves to trace over the simple bracelet, the small gold 'B' sewn into the brown leather. It's a little too tight, the worn trinket having formed itself to her smaller wrist. The pressure is perfect, just enough where he can barely feel his pulse against it. He closes his eyes and nods.
"Yeah?"
"Mmm."
"Daryl."
He blinks up at her for a second before pressing his face into her shoulder. He wants to tell her how perfect it is. How her giving this to him, this small scrap of herself wrapped firmly around him, means more than anything else he owns.
"Thank you."