I hope y'all are feeling fabulous today and also, I hope you're in the mood for fluff.

...FLUFF!

Once the farmhouse was deserted, Beth did everything she could to put the farm in order right away. There wasn't much work to be done. Another storm was scheduled to roll through, but everything was already in place. Once the rain started to pummel the windows and the sky darkened, there wasn't much to do but hunker-down for the night and wait for it to pass.

Ever since this plan for her to take charge for the weekend started to fall into place, she'd looked for an opportunity to get Daryl alone, and ask him to come to the house. Unfortunately, ever since he beat all the bullshit out of Dave, he'd been more distant. Or maybe it was her. She couldn't be sure what precisely it had changed between them, or why, but she hated this one-step-forward-two-steps-back dance. She didn't want to bring it up, if she didn't have to, because she wasn't sure she could say anything without it just sounding like she was complaining that he wasn't paying enough attention to her or that they weren't spending enough time together. In reality there wasn't much either of them could do about that. She knew it. He knew it. Why did they have to talk about it?

Sometimes, she wondered if she'd missed her opportunity to set things right. Maybe she should have come clean to her father about everything when he'd first pulled her aside to ask about what happened with Dave. On three separate occasions throughout the last two weeks she'd found herself marching off to find her father, fully intending to tell him everything. Each time, she came to her senses, usually about the time she actually saw him; wise, aging face, white hair and a frown that was chiseled deeper into him than it used to be. No. They weren't ready.

After double-checking that she'd done everything on Otis' checklist and that she had all the keys and emergency numbers handy, Beth put on a jacket and went out into the storm.

Through the grim fog and the trickling, deliberate rain—an indication that the sky was just getting started on a good hard cry—a pair of headlights glowed eerily down the road. Heartened as she thought she recognized the color and make, even through the mist, Beth ran to meet Daryl.

He pulled off the road just in front of her. The lights were barely off and he was climbing out of the car and shutting the door in one fluid movement. She met him just feet in front of his truck. "I was just gonna come find you." She splashed in shallow puddles already beginning to form as she drew near.

"Didn't wanna let ya do that," he met her and put a hand at the small of her back, motioning towards the house. They were both blinking back stray raindrops as they hurried up the porch and into the house.

Once out of the rain, Beth stripped her jacket off and turned to take Daryl's from him, but instead, she found him standing stalk-still on the mat, blue eyes scanning the room nervously. "What's wrong?" she giggled a little, he looked so comically uncomfortable she couldn't help it.

"S'just weird," he muttered.

She realized it was only the second time that he'd ever been inside the house before. Last time, it had at least been packed with strangers and he'd been invited by her parents, something she gathered could take the edge off. Now he looked like he was feeling all the implied edges of being inside the Greene home.

"Why?" she finally walked around him, pulling his jacket off his shoulders with a tug. It was already soaked. He must have been outside in the rain before he drove up to the house.

"I dunno—shouldn't be," he shrugged all the way out of the coat, rubbing at his right forearm. "Been plenty of places I didn't belong before." He added.

"You belong here." She hung their coats up to dry off.

Not having a response for her, Daryl just continued to look around the house, finally taking a cautionary step off the mat. He dried his palms against his trousers.

"I was thinkin' of doing breakfast for dinner," Beth contained her grin with the tiniest nibble on her lower lip. "Pancakes, or waffles or something like that. Sound good?"

With a slight flush in his neck, Daryl's eyes flickering to her mouth. "You're gonna make dinner?"

"Well, yeah," said Beth brightly, "We've got this whole house to ourselves. Maybe it's kinda adolescent, but I figure we've gotta play house a little, or else we ain't doin' the thing right."

"Well, I'd hate to not do it right," Daryl fought against a little smirk as he followed her into the kitchen. "Don't think I've played house since I was a kid."

"You played house?" Beth paused in searching through the cupboard for the brown sugar, turning to look back at him over her shoulder, a little heat in her cheeks as she smiled. It took a moment's effort to imagine Daryl as a little boy, playing with other kids.

"Well—sorta," his demeanor fell a little, something she'd come to understand meant they were dancing very close to a nerve. She half expected him to fall silent, the way he often did when they approached the topic of his past. "More like, I wasn't the only kid around who had parents that didn't exactly… take care of 'em. Some were real young. If they wanted a juice or a toy or somethin', more often than not, they knew not go to their parents. They'd come ask me instead. I'd find whatever they needed and get it to them. Food. Books. Cough syrup," he let out a short bark of laughter, looking out the window at the rain a moment. "I sorta thought of it like a game. Like I was playin' at being their dad, or their older brother, takin' care of 'em. But I guess, looking back, I was just breakin' into people's homes and stealing shit."

She'd abandoned the sugar for the moment, leaning back against the counter with an arm on either side to hold her upright. A lot of the time, it was all she could do; just listen when Daryl talked about his childhood. He didn't open up much, especially not about these early years, but she'd managed to piece together a murky picture. It had been a rough, lonely time for him, dotted with horrific episodes of violence and the ever-present threat of more to come.

"Lucky I never got caught," he added, sheepish as he rubbed at his trap muscle, just under the collar of his sleeveless flannel shirt.

"More like you got some skills," Beth rolled her eyes at him.

"Yeah, at bein' a criminal," his mouth was in a grimace, but she could see that there was still a little humor in his eyes. He hadn't fallen into too-dark territory.

"At a lotta stuff," her face was starting to burn again. She turned away so that she could smile openly into the cupboard without him seeing.

"Okay—lemme help, what're we doin'?"

When she glanced back it was to find him looking around the kitchen, seemingly a little baffled and overwhelmed.

"We need some syrup—there's a saucepan—yeah, in there." She turned and went up on tiptoes, but the sugar had been pushed all the way into the back of the cupboard.

After a few seconds of her struggling Daryl came up and bumped into her from behind reaching over her shoulder to take the sugar from the back and push it into her groping hand. Not wanting to let him escape when she had him so close, Beth turned around to grab onto the front of his shirt with her free hand, only to find that his other arm had already been making its way around her waist. His thumb slid over the top of her waistband against her hip, sending out a shiver from where their skin touched, she closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of him close, yet again. He breathed out against her forehead. She tilted her head back, capturing his mouth as he leaned into her.

Before now, she'd known how much she'd missed him. She'd been well aware of the distance from him over the last weeks. Even when they'd met the one time up in the barn, they'd both felt so visibly exhausted and beaten, hardly able to appreciate the precious time alone through their own clouded heads. Now though, she felt it deep, that she'd missed him. She dropped the bag of brown sugar on the counter and gripped onto either of his arms, letting her hold get more desperate as she slid up to his shoulders.

It was a slow, savoring kind of kiss; he wasn't coaxing her to move him, he just tasted her. As his arms tightened around her waist, she could feel that he'd missed her too, in that same, deep-in-the-bones way. She hung onto his bottom lip between her teeth for a heartbeat, then pulled away with a sigh.

"You're actually gonna do this part," she pushed the brown-sugar back into his hand, still mostly wrapped around her waist.

"Whatever ya say," he backed away and she was pleased to see there was some reluctance in each deliberate footstep.

Head still fuzzy, she tried to recall her mother's preferred method, "You're gonna put equal parts brown sugar and water in there—then add some molasses, it's up in—yeah that's right," she smirked, as he once again was able to identify which cupboard to check. Maybe all those times he'd broken into other people's houses had taught him where the most common places to find certain items would be. "Once it's all melted and mixed together, we'll cut it with some real maple syrup."

While they made breakfast/dinner together, the rain outside grew more insistent, the sky got darker and threatening, but it couldn't do anything to dampen the mood. For the first time in weeks she felt utterly relaxed. She couldn't stop laughing, even at stupid things that weren't really funny and she could tell that Daryl had caught the vibe too.

"Alright, why even make some without chocolate, if you're only gonna eat the chocolate ones?" he challenged her as she once again skipped over a plain waffle in lieu of one stuffed with chocolate chips. He was leaning back in the chair across from her at the kitchen table, trying to balance on two legs.

"You like the plain ones," she pointed out his plate, still drizzled with syrup, but he'd made short work of the meal.

"I don't got a preference on waffles. Ain't got enough experience with 'em to form one."

"Then, try a chocolate one?" she pushed her plate towards him.

He frowned and shook his head, "All yours. Think I'm good for now anyway," he snapped the chair back down onto the floor, then scooted it out and ambled over to the sink, gathering together the spent dishes as he went. He turned on the water and reached for the soap.

"Daryl Dixon, are you doin' the dishes?" Beth asked between bites.

"Yeah? What 'bout it?" A peculiar smile grew on his face.

"…What?"

"There was this one time. A kid in the neighborhood said his little sister was hungry, but mom was on a bender and they were all outta baby-food, so I went to this one house—rich people," but his eyes quickly scanned where he was and with a little more color in his face he added, "Well, they weren't that rich," in undertone. "The mom and one of the kids was home when I snuck in, but I wasn't worried, 'cause I could hear 'em upstairs arguing and the side door was right nearby, so if they started to come to the kitchen I'd just scram. I found the babyfood quick, but they were bein' so loud. Mom tellin' her son it was his turn to do the dishes and him yelling that it wasn't—that it was the sister's turn. Her sayin' how he needed to be quiet 'cause the baby's sleeping," He snorted, "So I looked over at this sink full of dirty-ass dishes and I figure they're loud 'nough that they probably won't be able to hear the water running and it'd be pretty funny if after they were done screamin' at each other they came downstairs and found it all done already."

Beth giggled, and got up to put the rest of the food away.

"It only took a couple minutes. Almost got caught, 'cause the dad came home before I was finished, but he didn't see me neither. Mighta heard somethin'. I didn't care. I was just imagining the looks on their faces, all confused when the job's just done."

A lot of Daryl's stories were like that; heartbreaking as they may be, he often tried to include something light-hearted, if he could think of any such detail at all. "I'll dry," she took her place beside him at the counter. She wanted to keep them to keep up the conversation, but he fell silent after his story and she found her mind drifting back to the questions that had been plaguing her over the past few weeks. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but as they stood there, finishing up the work in front of their rain-dotted reflections in the window, she started to realize that she needed to ask; even if she already knew the answers.

"…So, do the other farmhands know?" She put the plates back in the cupboard, and turned to look at him from over her shoulder, fingers drumming on the counter.

"Hum…" Daryl half-shrugged, "Pretty sure, yeah. Dave had a big mouth, and apparently either Lou or Len knows a little Spanish, 'cause the other day when you were out feedin' the chickens, and Javier and I were mucking out the stables, he turns to me and goes 'hay tu dueña' and looks at you with this little smug smile. I dunno what it means but from the way he said it, I gather I know what he means."

She'd figured as much, but hadn't been too concerned after the way Lou and Len had both so pointedly avoided looking at her when they helped escort Dave to his car. "We ain't gotta worry 'bout them though, do we?"

"Nah." He shut the water off, but his jaw had gone taut. He gripped the edge of the counter, making eye-contact with the reflection in the window over the sink. Whatever he said, he did look stressed. "They're… not gonna cause trouble."

"They're scared of you," Beth translated. That couldn't be a comfortable work environment.

"They'll be gone soon anyway," Daryl straightened up.

"…Dave did have a big mouth," she laughed shortly, it wasn't really funny, remembering the things he said to her, even with the epilogue of him beat-all-to-hell she couldn't laugh about it. "I'm sorry if I've been kinda distant," she looked down at her hands, curling her lips into her mouth a moment. "He rattled me. I shouldn't've let him do that."

Daryl narrowed his eyes, hesitating a moment before he crossed his arms and said, "What kinda bullshit came outta that douchebag's big mouth?"

"I know. I know it's bullshit," she looked away again, heat in her face. She didn't want to repeat it, especially not in his same words. "He was just tryin' to make me feel worthless. Problem was—it worked for a second."

A sound like a growl came from the back of Daryl's throat before it broke into words, "…didn't hit the sumbitch hard 'nough."

"He was mad that I rejected him, and so he went off about how you and him are the same. How you don't…" she trailed off, a little prickling in the corner of her eyes made her blink, but she drowned the instant of shame and sorrow with a healthy dose of exasperation that turned into a bark of laughter. She was still looking down, so she couldn't see him, but heard his footfalls coming near, felt the heat of him just before one hand rested on her shoulder. "It's stupid, I'm bein' stupid." She swallowed and took a deep breath, "I guess it's just been kinda awful, not seein' a lot of you since then."

His rough thumb brushed back and forth on the side of her throat. "I wanted to see ya. Every day… I guess I started gettin' worried that we might've been careless."

Shaking her head, she hoped he understood that she wasn't blaming him. "Yeah, I wondered that too. That's why I didn't come lookin' for ya." She finally met his eyes, darker than normal, but still clear as he searched her.

"I don't wanna do nothin' stupid. I wanna do right by ya, girl, but the way we been runnin' around like this, seems like just a matter of time 'fore there's a cock-up." He cupped the heel of his hand against her chin, thumb stroking her lips. "…On my part at least."

She'd been worried he'd do that, start thinking that whatever bad happened was all his fault. "You can't just blame it all on yourself. I'm in this too, ya know."

"Yeah, but it's different for ya," he grimaced.

"What do you mean?"

"'Cause you ain't the problem. If ya had some other guy, you wouldn't have to keep it a secret," he pointed out.

"Well, same goes for you, Daryl."

"Nah. I'm just like that." He dropped his hand from her face, replacing it in his pocket as he leaned back against the counter, shoulders round again. "Beth I… I ain't ever done nothin' like this before." He was looking at the floor. "…Always kinda just fooled around. Ain't never been that guy before."

Slowly learning more about him, Beth found she wasn't surprised. Nothing about his life was typical. "It's new for me too. I mean—I had a boyfriend, and I've seen other guys. Had a few who I saw off and on for a short time, but I didn't… It was just for fun, just 'cause I kinda thought it was what I was supposed to be doin'," she watched his face as she spoke, noticing the gears working in the back of his mind, "…Sound familiar?"

Holding her gaze steady, Daryl nodded, "Yeah. Real familiar," he muttered.

Whatever time he'd had with women before now, she felt pretty confident that it mirrored her own experiences to some degree. What was expected. Just a little fun. Maybe, in some ways Dave did have a point to be made, expect he'd made a big mistake thinking that it applied to what they had. This was different from anything that either of them had experienced.

Kinda terrifying, but it's real and I want it.

"Maybe you are that guy, Daryl. Maybe you've been him all along. Other girls just couldn't see it."

Shuffling his feet, it was Daryl's turn to struggle with looking her right in the eye, he grumbled, "Keep thinkin' I'll screw it up."

"You won't." She wished she could offer him some more powerful reassurance, she could see in his face that he wasn't convinced. It made her heart bleed whenever she was confronted with how little belief he had in himself.

Still, he managed to shove aside the air of self-doubt with the tiniest smirk. "Don't say I didn't warn ya, Greene."

She smiled back. "I'm warned."

Mad respect for everyone who reviews, also for you beautiful people who favorite, follow and recommend the story. I'm still overwhelmed by how many people are taking the time to read! I luff you guys:)

Swallowed In The Sea - Coldplay

Thanks to Stephanie for doing an alpha-read for me, and also recommending this song for my Bethyl playlist... but... guys. She doesn't even watch TWD. It's crazy. She just texted the song to me because it made her think of Beth and Daryl. I was sort of surprised by how appropriate it is for them, especially since... I repeat, SHE DOESN'T WATCH THE SHOW.

Thanks Stephanie:) My favorite bit in this song is how it switches between the verses from the singer speculating 'get lost and then get found or swallowed in the sea' to him saying 'you'll come back to me, not swallowed in the sea'. It's a nice bit of optimism that definitely makes me think of Daryl. I imagine that as he's separated from it's hard to be hopeful every moment. I'm sure he has some dark times when he thinks that the worst could have happen, but he also must be having those beautiful moments of faith when he just says to himself 'no, she's alive and I'll find her'.

He's going to find her. And it's going to be beautiful. They so belong together.