Alright folks, we're getting to the point where stuff's about to get real. I feel like the only thing keeping these two apart, at this point, is Daryl's reservations. Beth has made her intentions perfectly clear, so it's time for Daryl to get a little shake-up. Let's be honest; he needs it. The following few chapters will be long because their perspectives will switch throughout. I really want to opportunity to explore this tangle of emotions from all sides. It's an important step for both of them!
Thank you all so much for your reviews and encouragement! You're amazing, and I hope you enjoy this!
Beth's first thought upon waking up was that her toes were cold. One of the consequences of sleeping in an unheated cabin was that any uncovered appendages tended to feel like ice when you woke up. She cracked her eyelids and saw dusty sunlight peeking through the cracks in the shutters. It brought a smile to her face that she'd woken up in the same place, and in a bed no less, every day for a week.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stuffed her frozen toes into her boots, before stretching both arms towards the ceiling. She glanced towards the open doorway of the bedroom and saw Daryl sprawled on the couch, still fast asleep. Seeing him that relaxed made her happy; relaxing was something Daryl needed to do more of. Knowing that the tiniest sound would trigger his hunter's instincts, she tiptoed to the bathroom to wash up a little.
Every time she turned on the tap and hot water came out, it made her want to laugh out loud. It was such a small thing, but it did so much for their morale. Even though Daryl had gone to check the tags on the propane system and had determined that it should last another two years, Beth couldn't help but be conservative in her water use. She splashed some on her face, brushed her teeth, and left it at that. She'd like another bath today, but that could wait for later.
After a full week of sleeping inside, keeping her face and hands clean, and eating at least twice a day, it was amazing how much better she felt. Her cough was gone, and she'd felt a little stronger every day. It wasn't until yesterday that she'd started to go a little stir crazy.
Every day since they'd settled here, Daryl had gone out out for hours at a time and returned with stockpiles of supplies. The first day he'd retrieved a truck and several changes of clothes from the farm house that they'd left behind, and every day after that he'd come back with loads of canned food, lamp oil, and anything else he's managed to pick up from surrounding stores and houses. It was all stacked against the front wall of the house and Beth had decided the night before to organize it today. She hadn't done much but rest and wait for him to get back while she was sick, but now she was determined to be useful. She could understand Daryl wanting to go alone. He was faster and probably safer on his own, but she couldn't sit here another day and do nothing.
Just yesterday, Daryl had retrieved the cleaning supplies she had asked him for and she was planning on cleaning the old cottage top to bottom. If Daryl was going to risk his neck everyday, the least she could do was keep things nice for him.
She moved back into the bedroom and shook out the sheet and blanket before starting to make the bed. She glanced back at the open door and saw Daryl shift in his sleep. She sighed. There was no possible way that the small, scratchy couch was comfortable. She'd taken a nap on it, but she couldn't imagine sleeping there over night. Every night since Daryl had insisted that she take the bed, she'd tried to tell him that they could share. The memory of the look in his eyes when she'd first offered still sent a shiver down her spine. He'd declined though, like she knew he would, and had slept on the couch. She hated being so far away from him.
It was time, she decided, to break out the big guns with this stubborn man. She'd hinted, flirted, and nudged until she was blue in the face. The time for subtlety was over, and phase one, proving that she could be helpful by getting this cottage in proper living condition, was going down today.
Even though she knew it probably wouldn't work, she attempted to pass Daryl on her way to the kitchen without waking him. At the first sound of the skillet settling on the stove, however, he was sitting up and yawning.
"Mornin'" she called over to him.
"Mornin'" he returned, swiveling his head back and forth to crack his neck, "You done in the bathroom?"
"Yep," she responded brightly, "I'm gettin' breakfast together."
"You feel up to that?" he asked, glancing her way.
"Oh for heaven's sake, Daryl, that cough has been gone for days," she said waving a spatula for effect, "it's time for me to start helpin' 'round here."
He looked her over skeptically. Ever since they'd found this place, Daryl had insisted that she rest up and get better. She was grateful for his concern, but if she sat on that couch one more second, she was going to go crazy.
After a minute, he grunted his consent and went off to the bathroom. Beth spent the few minutes while he was in there setting out the table and getting their simple meal of last night's rabbit leftovers and canned peaches hot and ready. He returned just as she was sitting down, his too-long hair hanging damp over his eyes.
"Looks good," he offered, before digging into his pile of peaches.
"Thanks," she smiled brightly, "You goin' out again today?"
"Mmhmm," he muttered, mouth full, "There's a Gander Mountain about thirty miles east of here. I'm thinkin' there might be some more guns and ammo that we could use. S'also a couple neighborhoods on the way back that I might hit for extra supplies."
"Sounds good," she replied, popping a peach into her mouth, "are you looking for anything specific?"
"Nah, just wanna stock up on bullets for the pistol and see if there are extra bolts lyin' 'round."
"You might wanna look for some scissors," she commented, not bothering to conceal the wicked smile on her face.
"There's a pair in one of the first aid kits," he said, rolling his shoulder in the direction of the stockpile, "Why?"
"It's 'bout time you had a haircut," she teased, swatting at his bangs with her hand.
He shrugged and leaned back, away from her hand.
"Make it easier to see when I'm hunting, I s'pose," he replied, not seeming to care, "I guess I'll hack the front off tonight."
"I'll do it for you," she replied quickly, glad for an excuse to be close to him, "It'll be easier for me to see if it's even."
A look that she'd come to recognize as struggle warred across his face. Why did he have to be so difficult?
"Alright," he finally conceded.
With that, he stood up and deposited his breakfast plate in the sink. He started to rinse it off, but she jumped up and bumped him out of the way with her hip.
"I got that," she said, taking the plate from his hand, "You get goin' so you can get back 'fore you lose the light."
Two nights ago, he had gotten cut off from the road leading to the cottage by a herd of walkers. It had been hours after dark when he'd made it back and Beth couldn't ever remember being more scared.
Daryl snorted teasingly.
"Scared of the dark, girl?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in her direction.
Irritating man. If he could tease, so could she. She stepped right in front of him, their shirt fronts practically touching, and cut him a look from beneath her lashes.
"Not when you're here," she said sweetly, allowing her tone to imply all sorts of things that she wouldn't have dared say out loud.
He took a giant step back, and scrubbed a hand over his beard. She watched with satisfaction as a light pink color creeped up his neck and colored his cheeks. There was something awfully empowering about knowing that this big, rough man responded so readily to her tiny flirtations. It made her all the more curious to know how he would react if he wasn't so guarded. She was determined to find out.
He grabbed his crossbow from where it was propped in the corner and pocketed the truck keys from the kitchen counter.
"I'll be back before dark," he promised, his voice gravelly and his eyes serious.
"Be safe," she replied, smiling sweetly at him.
"Mmhmm, you too."
She closed the door tightly behind him, not bothering to bolt it. They hadn't seen a soul or a walker in days, and she wanted him to be able to get back in later in the day. After washing and storing the breakfast dishes, Beth turned her attention to the pile of supplies.
Although it didn't take her more than an hour to get them all organized and sorted, she was irritated to find that she didn't have any clean places to put them away. Resolve set, she filled the sink with water and a capful of the all-purpose cleaner that Daryl had brought her and spent the majority of the morning scrubbing every cabinet and surface inside the tiny cottage. By the time she got hungry again, everything down to the ancient bathroom shone brightly.
As she popped open a can of tomatoes for a snack, she wondered who had originally owned this place. Daryl was right; it had the feel of a vacation cabin. The age of the appliances and the several inches of dust that clung to everything implied that it had been years before the turn since it was last inhabited. The stove and tub both looked as if they had come straight from the 1930s. Whatever the reason, she was constantly grateful that it was untouched. And now that it was cleaner, the place didn't look half bad.
As silly as she knew it was, the optimist in Beth couldn't help but daydream about the life that they could build in a place like this. It was within an hour's drive of the prison. That mean that, come Spring, Daryl could start tracking for survivors. There was a sunny patch of land to the side of the cottage that Beth knew would be perfect for a garden.
With the amount of new supplies Daryl was bringing in every day, they probably wouldn't have to go out at all during the coldest months. It made a nice picture in her head, the thought of spending the winter months curled up in this cozy little cottage. She loved it here. She loved even more that she was here with Daryl. Beth hoped that after the next few days Daryl would feel like they had enough stockpiled to start staying home during the day. Maybe they could even find some time to make use of the the books and board games that she had found stacked in the bedroom closet. All in all, she didn't think they could have asked for a better place to stay.
She finished her lunch and turned to the now-fully-stocked pantry to decide on what to start for dinner. Using several cans of vegetables and mincing up the final bits of the rabbit, she set a pot of makeshift chili on the stove to simmer and was delighted when she found a box of corn bread mix that required only water. With the pleasant thought of chili and cornbread for dinner in her mind the rest of her afternoon passed quickly.
After washing and hanging several of their sets of dirty clothes, rag-mopping the floors and changing the bed sheets, Beth decided that she had earned a shower. Her very favorite thing about this house, hands down, was the hot water. She had lost track of the amount of times she had gotten excited about it. They'd had showers at the prison, but a hot shower was something she hadn't had since being on the farm and it was miraculous how much better it made her feel.
Upon exiting the shower, Beth actually took the time to comb out her long hair. As silly as it seemed, she wanted to look decent when Daryl came home. Unfortunately most of her clothes were still damp from washing, so she settled on a pair of black running tights that Daryl had retrieved from the farmhouse, and one of his oversized flannel shirts. It was a little sloppy looking, but it would have to do.
The sun was beginning to set as she moved around the cottage lighting the lanterns and candles that she'd placed in mason jars. With several lined up on the mantle, and the lantern in the middle of the table, the clean little cottage looked almost homey. She stirred the stew and tried to stop herself from glancing out the window for Daryl every time she passed it.
Daryl sighed with relief as he turned onto the narrow gravel road that led back to the cottage. As it turned out, the Gander Mountain was further than he'd anticipated, and he hadn't made very good time. He was just starting to worry about breaking his promise to be back before dark.
Overall, it had been a pretty successful run. He'd found plenty of boxes of bullets, but no extra guns and no crossbow bolts. The houses on the way back had yielded better results. Almost the entire truck bed was full of canned food and various other things he'd thought to grab. At this rate, the only thing he felt like they were missing was medicine. He'd scored a few first aid kits, but he'd feel better if they could find a pharmacy for some antibiotics in case one of them got sick again.
He was surprised by how much more relaxed he felt by coming back to this little place that he'd already started to think of as home. He noticed that the small porch was covered in laundry and that there was a warm golden glow peeking out from the edges of the shutters. He was glad Beth had closed them. In the dark it was practically impossible to see the house without the truck's headlights until you were directly on top of it.
He made his way to the door and nudged it with his knee. It swung open easily, and he wordlessly deposited the pack he had been carrying inside the front door. He turned to look for her and was stunned at how clean and orderly everything looked. The dusty ramshackle conditions hadn't bothered him. After all, he'd lived in much worse, but now he saw what he'd been missing.
All the woodwork was clean and shiny and the candles cast a warm soft glow over the room. The musty smell was gone, replaced by the slightly lemony scent that cleaning supplies gave off. The haphazard pile of supplies was no where in sight; presumably it had all been put away, and Beth was in almost the exact same spot he had left her this morning.
Back to him and long blonde hair curling freely down her back, Beth was humming to herself as she stirred something that smelled amazing on the stove top. Daryl could tell she'd taken a shower, and it did strange things to his stomach to see that she had dressed in one of his shirts. It was almost ridiculously long on her, and thankfully covered her backside because she was wearing those damn black pants again.
If Daryl had known the amount of trouble those stupid, useless excuse for pants would cause him, he never would have picked them up. He'd found them at the farmhouse and assumed that they were the kind that you'd wear under jeans when it got colder. How was he to know that Beth would take to wearing them around with nothing over them? They were so damn tight they might as well have been painted on, and it took every single ounce of his willpower not to grab her by the hips every time she walked past him.
She turned then, seeing him out of the corner of her eye and a huge smile broke out on her face.
"Hey," she said brightly, crossing the room to give him a quick hug, "I'm glad you're back."
"Got some good stuff," he replied, attempting to regulate his voice, "A few more books for you."
"Thanks," she returned, setting bowls out on the small kitchen table, "I have a surprise for dinner."
"Oh yeah?" he said, shedding his jacket and stashing his bow in the corner, "What's that?"
Beth bent into the oven and retrieved a steaming, mouthwatering loaf of golden bread. The smell hit him seconds after his brain registered what it was.
"Is that corn bread?" he asked, not quite sure how she had pulled that off.
She nodded, beaming.
"I found a box of the instant stuff!" she said proudly, setting it in the middle of the table.
Daryl clutched a dramatic hand to his chest and collapsed in one of the chairs, knowing it would make her laugh.
"Be still my redneck heart!" he exclaimed teasingly, "You must be a damn miracle worker!"
She giggled and he couldn't help but return her smile. She grabbed their bowls from the table and filled them both with chili before sitting down across from him.
"Cornbread and chili? I think I could die a happy man tonight."
"Aww, please don't?" she responded, still laughing slightly.
He dug into the chili, afraid that he would come off too sappy if he responded out loud. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something about how he could never leave her, but he knew it would sound more meaningful than it should be. Even if he meant it like that (which he had come to admit to himself that he did) she didn't need to know about it.
"Holy shit this is good," he said after digging into a bite or two.
"I'm glad," she replied, daintily blowing on a spoonful, "Mama always said the secret to good chili was lettin' it cook all day."
"Sounds like your mama knew what she was doin' in the kitchen," he commented.
"She taught me everything I know," she replied proudly.
"And for that," Daryl said appreciatively, "I am eternally grateful."
He polished off his bowl of chili in several more bites and scraped his chair back to refill his bowl. Before he even had a chance to stand, Beth was dancing from her seat and snagging the bowl from his hand to refill.
"You were out all day," she said sweetly, "I'll get this."
That unfamiliar swooping sensation in his chest that Beth seemed to be causing more and more often hit him suddenly. This must have been what it looked like growing up in her house. Based on the things he knew about her family, he would be willing to bet that her Mama was the one who instilled that sweet hospitality in her. He could almost picture it; Hershel coming home from work and his wife fussing over him like this. It sure as hell wasn't what he was used to, but he had to admit that it wasn't awful.
He watched her as she finished quickly and started clearing the table and cleaning up.
'You think this'll keep overnight?" she asked, indicating the food left in the pot, "I can't think of a good way to store it."
"Feels like it'll frost over tonight," Daryl commented, "Why don't you put a lid on it, and stick it on the porch."
"Oh, good idea!"
She took his suggestion and then wiped down the counters and table before disappearing back into the bedroom. He was just about to ask her what she was doing when she returned with the pair of scissors in her hand.
"Time to clean you up, a little," she said, snapping the scissors at him mischievously.
Daryl sighed deeply in mock offense, but pushed his chair back anyway. He caught himself holding his breath at the first touch to his scalp. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, untangling it and raking her nails lightly over his head. He had to stifle the urge to close his eyes. He'd found that it was best to be in control of all his faculties when she was this close to him.
"When was the last time you had a haircut?" she asked.
"Few weeks 'fore the world went to hell," he replied.
"Really?" she exclaimed, "Lori or Carol never did it?"
"Nope," he shrugged, "Didn't matter, s'been long before too."
"Were you one of those ponytail boys?" she teased, making her first few snips along his collar line.
"Hell naw," he exclaimed with a snort, "S'been about this long before, though. It was right before I cut it off."
"I like it better when it's a little shorter," she commented absentmindedly, " Not too short, but it's nice to see your eyes."
He wasn't sure how to respond to that.
"Just do whatcha want, I guess," he grumbled, "Don't make no difference to me."
He waited, fists balanced on his knees as she worked her way around both sides of his ears. The rhythmic snip of the scissors was almost comforting. There are some things that sound the same no matter what condition the world is in.
He shook his head out when he saw her step back to examine her work.
"You done?" he asked, congratulating himself for how well he'd done with her so close to him.
"Just about," she said, concentrating on the task at hand.
Before he knew what was happening, Beth stepped directly in front of him and began brushing the hair in his eyes up with her hand. She was so short that she was having a hard time reaching him, and he was just considering how he could turn his head to be more helpful when she nudged his booted foot wide and stepped directly between his now-open legs.
She was so close that he could smell the clean, soapy smell coming from her hair. That combined with the all-too familiar scent of his own flannel shirt was dizzying. Why did she have to go and wear his shirt? Didn't she know that that was the kind of shit that made him crazy. It was personal, proprietary even; like she was marking herself as his, and he couldn't help that it raised something deep and primal inside his chest to see it. He clenched his jaw, and hoped that she'd be done soon. After several minutes of holding his breath, she seemed to be about done.
Beth raised up on her tiptoes to check the top of his head and her balanced waivered slightly. She put her hand on his shoulder and, as if his traitorous hands had a mind of their own, Daryl found himself lightly grabbing her around the waist to steady her. He heard her gasp, and made the stupid mistake of looking up at her.
Scissors hanging slack in her fingers and other hand still clutching his shoulder, Beth was looking down at him like he was the only man in the entire world. Her blue eyes were wide and her perfect little mouth was slightly parted. He'd seen lust before. He knew it in the glances of the women he'd known in another life, but this was something altogether entirely. He didn't think anyone in his entire life had ever looked at him with so much anticipation, and it froze him in his seat.
He should have taken his hands away once she was stable, but he didn't. She should have finished her inspection, but instead, she laid the scissors down on the counter and lightly laid her hand on his other shoulder. He didn't know what to do. Everything in his brain screamed at him to let go, stand up, create some distance, but his hands refused.
She seemed to get her bearings a little then, and smiled shyly at him.
"For heavens sake, Daryl," she whispered, "Are you gonna make me ask?"
Damn this woman. Damn her smile and her faith in him and the sweet little way that she asked for things he already wanted to give her.
She leaned forward, golden hair falling over her shoulders and into his lap. She was so close and he was so very tired of fighting. He knew what she wanted and he'd be a miserable liar if he tried to tell her that he didn't want it too.
As carefully as he'd ever done anything in his life, Daryl closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth to hers. A part of him expected her to back away, or slap him, or do anything that a girl like Beth should have done in this situation, but she didn't. Her fingers twisted into the fabric at his shoulders and she let out the sweetest sigh he'd ever heard in his life.
If that had been all that happened, he would have been fine. He could have still pulled back from this, been cold, pretend it had never happened. But then she parted her lips and touched her tongue to his mouth, and something inside him snapped. He stood up, knocking the chair to the ground, and dragged her against him with all his strength. She gave out a little gasp and on pure instinct he stroked his tongue into her open mouth.
He couldn't even keep his thoughts straight. Beth moved her hands from his shoulders to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and pressed herself up on her tiptoes to get closer. The feel of her delicate curves pressed up against him caused a reaction low in his belly. It was no surprise to him that Beth had a way of getting under his skin; he'd known that. But this consuming sort of burn that he felt all the way to his toes was something he wasn't prepared for.
He slanted his mouth over hers and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. He'd never known a feeling like this. In his younger years, Daryl would have told anyone that the best high of his life came from the thrill of a good hunt. He was dead wrong. This was a feeling that he knew he'd crave for the rest of his life now that he'd had it. It was like a drug, and suddenly it wasn't enough.
Without warning or much conscious thought, Daryl moved his hands to Beth's hips and lifted her clean off of her feet. She gasped again, but clung to him tighter. He walked her back a few steps, and finally sat her on the kitchen counter so that her mouth was even with his. He had to taste the rest of her. With the slightest of nudges, she dropped her head back and allowed him to drag his lips down the pale column of her throat. She was intoxicating.
She shifted then, and wrapped her long legs around his waist. His name tumbled from her lips in a breathy voice that he'd never heard from her before and just like a bucket of cold water poured over his head, it snapped him out of this trance.
He stopped suddenly, and took a second to actually think about what he was doing. This was Beth Greene; barely nineteen, innocent as the day is long, and wrapped in his arms making sounds that were driving him crazier by the second. He must have lost his mind.
He backed away so quickly that she nearly fell off the counter.
"Daryl, what…?" she asked, confused after such an abrupt change.
"I'm sorry," he replied wretchedly, his voice scratchy and raw, "Shit, Beth, that wasn't supposed to-"
"No, don't do this," she cut him off, her voice growing fierce. She hopped off the counter and started towards him. He side stepped her, guilt squeezing his lungs like a vice. He couldn't breathe.
"I need some air," he said, reaching for the door.
"Daryl, no -" she reached for his arm, and he shook her off, probably a little harder than he needed to.
"Don't follow me," he snapped, wrenching the door open, "I'll be on the porch. Go to bed."
He left and closed the door behind him before she could say anything else, He staggered to the porch railing, and clutched it for support as the look of hurt in her eyes etched itself permanently onto his heart
*Ducks* I know! I'm sooooo sorry! It had to happen. I hate that it had to happen, but Daryl wouldn't be Daryl if he didn't lose it a little. Please don't hate me!
As always, you're all wonderful and I love you to pieces!