Guys, I met wallflow3r yesterday, like for real! How amazing is it that one little show and community of its fans could find me an amazing friend? I want to thank you guys so much for your continued love, support, comments, kudos and everything else you do for me. I'm so lucky to be a part of this amazing place and share with you something I genuinely enjoy doing. I was always told my creative side wouldn't pan out, that I didn't have the skill, that I didn't go to school enough and it may not be something I'm paid for in money but being paid in heart felt compliments from you guys is everything I'll ever need ❤️

Kissing Beth again is like coming home and all the seething, raging thoughts cresting in his mind dissipate in awe of her.

Her lips glide beneath his like she's showing him how to move them for the first time and really, she is. Kissing ain't never been top of his to do list if he ever made it to a bed with a woman.

A couch, back alley or car didn't get him any neither. Now Beth's tongue is sliding into his mouth and he don't know who he is anymore, like she's remaking him.

Excitement clenches in his gut like he's never felt. Daryl presses closer, working his elbow into the mattress where his pillow was before he gave it to Beth for her shoulder, essentially curling his body around hers.

The closer he gets to her the more she seems to strain for him, her mouth eager as his head leans in closer. Her skin is so warm beneath his hand and he wonders if it's because of her injury and the pain meds rather than simple heat.

Her skin is tantalising against the rough pads of his fingers but with the thought that her flesh is hot due to being doped up, he pulls away. "Girl, you need sleep," he whispers softly, moving his head back from hers.

She whimpers, her eyes heavy lidded and her mouth swollen from kissing him as she chases after his lips. "Don't stop."

"Beth," he mutters breathlessly. "M'tryin' real hard to do the right thing. You ain't sober. This's takin' advantage of you an' that ain't me."

She sighs but smiles a little loosely, her eyes milky with sleep. "Sorry. I am sleepy," she mutters thickly. "I know," he whispers, his hand stroking over her hair. "Go sleep, girl. I ain't goin' no where."

"Swear?" Beth asks almost desperately but her eyes are already closing.

"Swear," he promises.


"Fuck!"

"Beth?" Daryl murmurs groggily, his face buried in a pillow that smells like her.

"Don't come in!" She screeches.

Come in? Come in where? He groans as he lifts his head, coming to the conclusion that he had his face buried in Beth's pillow but she's not in the bed with him.

Pushing up on his palms, he blinks the sleep out of his eyes as he muscles his way out of the bed. The sleep he had, for however long he had it, was deep and dark, blissful.

No dreams. No nightmares. No voices. Ghosts, even. Just darkness. Peace.

Seems like sleeping in the same bed as Beth knocked him out cold and now he stumbles like he's the one who was doped up on pain meds.

"Beth?" He asks again, a little more awake this time.

There's a muffled curse and a clatter from the bathroom before she yells, "hold on!"

"You need help?" He asks through the door.

"Kinda," Beth grunts back and then she sighs deeply, like she's given up. "Come in."

Grasping the door knob, he turns it beneath his hand and then lets the door swing open. As it does, it reveals Beth sprawled on the floor, hastily covered by a towel that's crooked and barely covering the most intimate parts of her.

Beside her sprawled body on the bathroom floor, the bath is running and the towel cupboard door is hanging open.

"The hell happened in here?" Daryl asks quickly as he bends down to scoop her up.

"Oh, ow, careful. This towel ain't secure," she grumbles and he snorts because that's a hell of an understatement.

The towel slips the minute he slides his arm underneath her to lift her to a sitting position and with one hand she can barely scrabble for it.

Helping her out, he grasps the two edges of the towel and grips them tight against her spine, grunting as he lifts her up by his arm around her waist.

"Why didn't you jus' ask for my help?" He mutters darkly as he helps her stand.

Beth gets steady on her feet and starts to twist the towel on her body so she clasps the bits he's holding closed. When she has them in a fist he lets go and takes a step back, getting a full look at her.

Her hair is a chaotic mess of curls, settling against her sides and her chest and her eyes are wild with desire. He never thought he'd see a woman look at him like that and he swallows, nervously glancing away from her gaze.

When he does he finds faded, half formed bloody handprints on her chin, jaw, neck and her uninjured shoulder. The injured one is patched up but even that looks like it needs cleaning.

He'll have to take the dressing off and wash it for her but first he needs a fresh dressing.

Clearing his throat, he turns the bath tap off just to avoid Beths watchful eyes. "Think you can manage?" He indicates the bathtub.

She nods slowly even though getting in the bath seemed to have been her previous problem. Nodding in return, Daryl closes the towel cupboard door and heads out.

Beth doesn't call after him and he doesn't explain where he's going. He jogs down the stairs with a question on his tongue about where the first aid is kept to be met with darkness.

It's not another power cut judging by the street lights so he ventures into the dark kitchen and flicks the light switch. The bulb sparks to life and he squints at the clock hanging on the wall.

It's four am. Nearly sun rise. He and Beth must have napped a little too hard but whatever, they clearly both needed it. All he's wondering is what the others thought was going on up there alone together.

Not that they could have assumed much since Beth was nearly zombified by her pain meds. Maybe someone put their head around the door and saw them both sleeping together.

A cold wind whips his legs and when he glances down he remembers he ain't got pants on. Damn, he needs to get this dressing before someone wakes up and sees him half naked.

How the hell would he explain that? Squatting under the sink, he rummages through the various items until he finds the first aid kit.

Popping the top, he retrieves the large dressing he needs and quietly shuts the cupboard door. In the next few minutes he flips the light switch, slowly climbs the stairs and enters back into Beths room; discarding the dressing on the bed for after.

Softly knocking the bathroom door, he asks under his breath, "girl, can I come in?"

There's a splash like she slipped or sat up and his hand grips the door knob for a tense second before she calls out, "okay."

Opening the door, Daryl steps inside and closes it behind him, finding Beth with her back facing him and her toes stretched up the taps.

He circles around her slowly and finds that she's pretty much covered all of her flesh with bubbles. The hot tap is still running and it just fits.

Fits the damp ends of bed hair and her flushed cheeks, the quiet calm and air balmy. Like another world. Just them two here together.

"You gonna lemme clean that?" He jerks his chin at her shoulder.

Beth glances down to it and nods, reaching with her free arm to peel off the dressing and medical tape. When she does, some bubbles shift and the heat in the room infuses the very fibres of his flesh.

Milky, quick flashes of her thigh and rib twisting in the tub and Daryl's mouth is drier than the cracked earth of the dessert. Fuck, why now?

Swallowing, he takes the dressing she offers him and bins it, glad for some kind of distraction as he bends to his knees beside the tub.

There's a wash cloth folded on the edge so he takes it and wets it in the space between Beth's arm and the bath. Being as gentle as he can, he presses the cloth around the edges of the wound.

The stitches can handle getting wet but he doesn't want to soak them, just clean up some of the mess. Beth automatically grits her jaw but then slowly relaxes and unwinds as he gentles the cloth.

He watches her eyes slip closed, fascinated by the shadow of her eyelashes on her cheekbones. It feels like it should be weird, kneeling beside her as she lies naked in the tub, scarcely covered by bubbles, but it doesn't.

It doesn't because it isn't about getting naked for each other's viewing pleasure. All the morality crap gets screwed over when the world ends.

She's injured and she hasn't explicitly asked him to be her on call nurse but she hasn't declined his help neither. Besides, he wants to help her.

So long after she was gone he blamed himself for everything that he did wrong. All his failings, starting with the hesitation he felt about her with his I'unno, even when she gave him a second chance to be truthful.

The next time was when he let that car drive away with her and soon after how he failed to catch up with it or even track it. There's been plenty of times he's let this woman down and he won't do so again by letting her suffer.

She hasn't asked him to wash her but he's already cleaning up the wound so he pushes his luck and slowly rides her collarbones to her other shoulder, cleaning up the first bloody handprint.

Beth hums softly deep in her throat, her eyes still closed and her head lolling in the water, futher soaking the ends of her hair.

At the bottom of the bath her toe is turning the tap so it slowly recedes its flow before completely cutting off. It leaves them in roaring silence and suddenly all he can hear is how deeply Beth is breathing.

Daryl licks his lips and moves the cloth up her neck, wiping at her jaw and chin. Beth's lips part and her chest rises a little too high, her nipples poking through their protective layer of bubbles.

Holy fuck. He clears his tight throat, his cheeks hot and stiff. Beth's eyelids flicker and when they open they're completely dilated.

Shit. He remembers Merle saying something about this, something about knowing how a girl likes you because of their eyes.

He always thought it was pure bullshit that Merle had been conned into believing but now he's starting to reconsider.

The cloth in his hand pauses on her skin, hand heavy and rough, scrapped knuckles pressing into her. Beth won't take her eyes off him and in turn he can't move his away either, even though his heart is jack hammering and his head is screaming for him to get out.

Something's happening that he don't know how to stop, that he don't know how to fight and he's never been in this position before, never felt this way.

The air in his throat rattles to a halt and he squeezes the cloth in his hand, wringing out a rivulet of water that he can't help watching as it cuts a path down Beth's chest.

His eyes cut up to hers licking her lips. "Come here," Beth breathes.

Daryl swallows and leans closer, the elbow of his shirt getting wet. "Wha's wrong?"

"Nothin'," Beth whispers as she lifts closer. Just as her lips touch his, she finishes with, "nothin' at all."