side note AN in which I am going to try and not sound terribly needy, even though I am, in fact, the Neediest Person on Earth: if all of a sudden there's a drop in what I hear from y'all, it gets a lot harder to keep up with what I'm trying to do motivation wise. In other words, because I haven't said it in a few chapters: seriously it sounds tacky but reading reviews and getting those alerts are a large part of what make this fun for me. So thank you and insert an appropriate number of heart emojis here.

Daryl decided it was easier to wait outside. Why not? Not like there was any point in pretending he could hide, now, and at least outdoors he wouldn't have to deal with whatever the fuck inexplicable looks he and Beth had been passing back and forth the past ten minutes. He'd been basically chain smoking since he'd gotten out here. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been stressed enough to go through more than a pack in a single day, but at the rate he was going it seemed likely.

The clinging of the bell alerted him to someone coming outside. He didn't pay it any attention except to turn his back towards the noise, not even wanting to look at another person until he was sure it would be Beth, but the footsteps clacked closer until it was Husky herself standing next to him at the porch. He didn't acknowledge her at all, seeing her in his peripherals as she brought out her purse. She fished around in it for a couple seconds until she was pulling out a box of smokes, then dug around a couple seconds more before patting down her jacket pockets and sighing.

"Got a lighter?" she asked him.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Nope," he answered, pointedly taking another drag while she looked on. It was a dick move. He didn't care. He really didn't fucking care.

She snorted, tapping the cigarette back into the box. "Dude, this isn't any of my business but - you're so fucked."

It really wasn't. "Didn't ask," he said. He hadn't, and she hadn't exactly done anything wrong except for throw a potentially serious wrench into his night, but he didn't give a shit The only person he felt any need to be even vaguely polite to right now was still inside.

He could see her raise her eyebrows. "It's alright. I got the message. I'm just waiting on a ride," she said, putting her hands into the pockets of her dress. She frowned, digging deeper before pulling out the missing lighter with a satisfied smile. "Do you mind if I smoke out here?"

He shrugged. "Free country."

"Charming," she said, lighting up and looking at him curiously. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked, tapping the ash off.

He shrugged again. He didn't see there was much a way to stop her.

"Was I at least right?" she asked, smiling more broadly.

He sighed. "Does it matter?"

"I guess not," she said slowly. "I'm just nosy."

He didn't answer her, turning around to look through the barred side window. He could see Beth, barely, a whoosh of blonde hair and smiles.

"Shit," she said, and when he looked she was following his eyes again. "You're not even discrete about it, are you?"

He shrugged yet again, more exasperated than anything else. What the fuck was he supposed to do, here?

"It's alright," she said. "Definitely don't have to explain yourself to me." She shrugged, flicking her cigarette out towards the grass. "If it helps she was looking at you as much as you were looking at her. Both of you are fucked if it's supposed to be a secret."

That didn't help. At all. But it was almost a relief, hearing it acknowledged by someone else without all the accompanying bullshit he was coming to expect.

The door opened again, and he found himself twisting around again to make sure Beth was still safely inside, relieved when he found her still behind the bar. Not that it would be bad, he didn't think. Just a situation he'd rather avoid, much like everything else that had happened tonight.

The move didn't go unnoticed. "Relax," she said, picking up her purse and putting it back on her shoulder. She pointed over to a car that had just pulled up. "The ride is here. Your girlfriend won't have to kill me with kindness."

Kill her with kindness. That would probably be exactly her method of choice, unrelenting and staggering. He turned away as she walked off, closing his eyes once he'd seen her wave goodbye. One problem dealt with, and hopefully no more to go. He hadn't brought his phone and couldn't check the time, so he started counting the songs. Listening to the quiet bass through the walls, at least trying to start pacing the cigarettes. Her shift had to be over soon. There were only so many hours in a night to make him feel miserable, and they had to at least be running low.

He counted close to twenty songs before people started filing out more reliably, a couple taxis coming by to pick up the drunker ones. He watched from the end of the porch, mostly in darkness, waiting for the coast to be clear. He wasn't even sure if this was going to work, or how her family was going to play into this. With how this had been going for him they were probably planning on taking her home, too.

But he knew a couple seconds later that they weren't, the door opening for both Maggie and Shawn to come through. She wasn't looking for him and didn't see him sitting over in the corner like a creep, and he allowed himself to relax as they both walked past him out into the lot.

"I thought she'd quit," Maggie was saying, swinging her keys around her finger.

"Dad would hate it," Shawn answered, louder than he had been inside. Drunk, maybe.

"He'd more than hate it. He'd be rollin' in his grave," she said, just loud enough for him to hear before they were both getting into the only other truck still parked.

He couldn't help but think that this wasn't the only thing he would hate, this man he'd never met but who'd had such a presence anyways. But there was exactly nothing he could do about that, at least nothing past what he'd already tried and what she'd already made clear she wouldn't accept. Which left him with nothing to do but wait even longer, hooking back around the corner where she'd lead him earlier just so he wouldn't risk running into anybody else, lighting up one of the last of his cigarettes.

She found him easily enough a few minutes after the lights inside clicked off, saying her goodbyes and then her boots clicking across the wood as she rounded the corner, following the smoke. She didn't say anything this time. No kiss hello. Just meandering over in his direction, stopping when she was standing in front of him. He didn't know if that was a sign of something.

"You been waitin' long?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She knew exactly how long he'd been waiting, but he shook his head anyways, shrugging. She looked down at the sea of cigarette butts, brushing them to the side with her foot. "I'm sorry," she said. "They didn't tell me they were comin'."

"S'alright." It wasn't, but what other choice did he have?

"They were just checkin' on me. Shawn is just protective. Even more since Daddy…" She trailed off, shrugging up at him.

"It's fine," he said. He guessed he couldn't blame them, but that was the most annoying part of it. If anybody was doing something wrong here it was him.

She gave him a little smile, reaching to grab hold of the zipper of his jacket, playing with it between her fingers. "You did good. Even with -"

He cut her off. "Don't really wanna talk about it."

"Talk about what?" she asked, innocently but also not. Always managing to strike some weird sort of balance there.

He wouldn't be surprised if they'd both walked out of there tonight with two unrecognizably different stories of what had happened, but he didn't want to compare notes right now. He especially wasn't interested in whatever summation seemed to be coming. "What that was."

She frowned. "I didn't think it was so bad."

He just looked at her before shaking his head. Naive wasn't the word here, but he couldn't find something better. Misplaced, relentless optimism, and he didn't know how to tell her she shouldn't have any when it came to this.

"C'mon, I know it wasn't -" She started, but then changed course when she looked at him. "I didn't plan it or anythin'."

"I know." That wasn't what he'd been trying to say. He hadn't thought she'd lead him into the lion's den. "Didn't seem too phased, though."

"I wasn't, I guess." She wasn't apologizing, and he guessed she didn't have to.

But he kind of wanted to hear her say it. Hear her tell him he was right, that he really should be staying far, far the fuck away from her sister and her family in general, that it was likely to be a fucking mess and that if this had been a taste of what to come she wasn't too interested in sitting down for the whole meal.

But she didn't say those things, instead squaring off to him and crossing her arms. "So."

He shrugged, back against the wall, pulling out another cigarette. One left. "So."

She cocked her head, that same half not-quite-smile coming onto her face from the bar. "Who was she?"

He knew who she was talking about, but he decided to play like he didn't. "She?" He didn't even know her name, and when he thought back on tonight she would be far, far down the list of what he remembered.

"The woman that was next to you," she went on, stepping up closer so her toes bumped up against his.

"Dunno." He didn't. He didn't know what this conversation was. He had zero experience here, not just untreaded territory but also like he was blindfolded first, shoved out into darkness. He couldn't get a read on her at all, and he didn't like this feeling like he was sitting outside of the joke.

"Looked like she knew you," she said, and she must've been feeling bold because she reached up and took his cigarette.

He was tired. Not in the mood. He rolled his neck, not looking at her. "We gotta do this?"

"No," she said more seriously, part of the facade dropping. It was a joke, then. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"Okay." He took a deep breath, head landing back against the brick so he could look down at her as she frowned.

But then she shrugged, the smile back, and she lifted up the stolen cigarette to take a drag, reigniting the nearly dead flame with a bright orange glow. She didn't take it very smoothly, not breathing it in but holding the smoke in her mouth until she could exhale it twice as thick, tongue rolling out to taste her what it left on her lips. "I just thought it was funny. Seein' you like that."

He hadn't been lying when he said he wasn't in the mood for this, whatever this was, but he could appreciate what was happening here. Could maybe appreciate the possibility that this wasn't entirely about him. "Like what?"

"Squirmin'." She grinned, reaching past him to crumple the cigarette on the wall at his side.

He didn't answer, but he didn't have to, watching her as she brought gentle hands up to his stomach, slipping a finger past the space between the buttons.

"Does that happen a lot?" she asked, looking up at him.

"What?" There was more happening here that he still didn't feel like he was completely getting, edging around whatever it was as she let her legs come flush up against his.

"People comin' up to you like that. Girls." The smile again, an eyebrow flicking up. "Women."

"Stop," he muttered, closing his eyes for a second before letting one of his hands find her wrist, curling over the bracelets to hold her to him.

"I'm serious," she said, tugging on his shirt so he was looking at her again.

"So am I." He was. This wasn't anywhere near level playing ground.

But she stared back, a blue eyed blonde haired wall of sudden silence while more fingers pushed past his buttons to stroke against his stomach. He matched her for as long as he could, dropping his hands back to his side and standing up a little straighter just to gain that extra inch on her, but she didn't break and he was cornered and she knew.

Fine. "What do you think?"

"Well, I came up to you," she said, her other hand coming up to his hip, sliding under his vest.

"Not like that." He was going to have to come up with a new turn of words, here, because even in his own head it was getting repetitive.

"It was for me," she corrected, and pushed herself up even more, weight swinging to her toes on top of his so her hips came flush with his, her hand at his side gripping tighter to hold her there.

Careful, girl. But she wasn't trying to be careful, full of recklessness that was beautifully apparent when she touched him like this. "Was what?"

She was teasing, now, he was sure of it, shoulders lifting. "Like that."

"Stop," he said again, hands still hanging heavy at his side.

She paused. "Why?" she asked, looking genuinely confused.

"Just stop." He didn't even know why. Just knew that sometimes this - she - was too much for him to process. Hand on his side, legs on his, hips to hips, vanilla on her skin and he felt like he was treading on some sort of line when he didn't even know who'd drawn it there

"Why?" she repeated, more gentle now, falling more against him, his toes falling asleep from where she was cutting off circulation.

"Beth." Please. She'd told him that he couldn't shut down, but that wasn't even what he was trying to do. He wasn't trying to do anything.

"Daryl." Louder than him. Stronger, too, and she turned her face into his arm, lips pressing gently while the fingers on one of her hands twined with his to pull his arm taut. Then not as gentle, her jaw slipping wider, and he could feel her teeth edging up against his skin. Not biting, but there. Threatening, almost, like way back at the beginning when she'd had her hands on him and she'd felt nothing short of predatory.

She had him.

Her hands drew down either of his arms, fingers gentle but leaving blazing trails of ticklish heat. She paused once she'd reached his wrists, fingers back between his, pressing a kiss near his shoulder. "I can stop."

He shook his head, closing his eyes to try and gather what little strength she wasn't siphoning out of him. "Don't." He felt her smile, one hand dropping his to duck under his shirt, tips of her fingers dancing on the skin above his waistband. "You don't need to be -"

"Be what?" She'd moved onto his neck, thigh coming up to press between his hips.

"This." Proving something, maybe, to herself or to him or to whatever purpose this was serving. She was either ignoring him or didn't care, though, because her hand dropped to cup him, her head centering under his chin, and his next words came out hard and choked. "Whatever you're bein'."

"I'm not bein' anythin'," she said, fingers moving to knead over him, following his hips when they rolled. "You know what I was thinkin'?"

He almost laughed but it turned into a grunt, hand squeezing around hers. "Gettin' some idea."

"I was thinkin' that it was okay because I'd get to come out here with you," she said more quietly. His cock was rising to meet her where she palmed him, and he could hear her breathe more deeply when she felt it.

He didn't stop her. He didn't want to. The air was warm but she was warmer, moths clicking against the porch light, cicadas and crickets and the wood creaking below them as their weight shifted more into each other. He didn't think he realized until now how much he'd missed this. Missed her. He'd gone home these past couple days, aching with memories of almost, smelling her on his hand and feeling the imprints she'd left behind, but now she was actually here and even if she was teasing he'd take it.

She went blissfully quiet as she rubbed him hard enough to be sure he could feel her, steady and rhythmic as he steadily came undone under her touch. She took another deep breath, tilting her head up towards his ear. "I love doin' this. It makes me feel so good, Daryl, you don't even -"

Her voice was shaking, and her words hit him like a wave. He canted up into her hand, the dull pain of being restrained becoming much more apparent, suddenly extremely aware that he hadn't even been touched in what felt like weeks. "Beth-"

"I was sittin' in my bed at home the day after you came over and I couldn't stop thinkin' about you, what you said-" she went on, voice still tremoring, leaning more against him as he shivered into her, burning pleasure pounding down his spine. "I thought about you tellin' me that -" She cut off, swallowed, tried again, her hand squeezing harder, thigh coming up between his legs to catch his cock at an angle her hands hadn't. "About me gettin'-" Another stutter of words, more kisses and teeth against his jaw, breaths coming in stinging drags out of his lungs as he listened, lost to the sound of her voice as she forced it out. "About me gettin' wet and I-"

Nothing else. She'd given him practically nothing but it felt like everything, her words washing over him along with the memories that accompanied them, her hand keeping its ruthless touches and pulls, and before he even knew what was happening or had any way of stopping it he was coming. Everything surging, white hot heat behind his eyes and head thrown back only to be stopped by painful brick. He wasn't even sure if he was silent or not, blood rushing through his ears steadily enough to ring, giving it to her in waves.

He didn't even have a moment when he seemed to come down, everything fuzzy at the edges and all of him weak. She'd taken her hand away but given him none of the space that he couldn't even convey he needed, and when she spoke he could barely hear her at all above everything else.

"Did you - ?" she asked, and he couldn't even find the strength to confirm what she was asking.

To confirm that yes, God, he'd just come in his pants, and even standing here letting that realization layer over him in increasingly horrifying levels he was fairly sure that she hadn't even meant to.

He was falling. He was legless and he was boneless and he was falling, leather catching against the wall like velcro, and he was dimly aware of her hands and her voice but it was too late because he was already on the ground, shirt gathered up somewhere near the middle of his back. She came down soon after, on her knees between his legs, forcing herself into his vision. God, she was pretty, hyper focusing on her past the ringing in his ears, eyes so blue they were almost green, and he was nearly able to forget what had just happened.

Jesus.

He closed his eyes to block her out, hands finding the porch beneath him in an attempt to ground himself, escaped gravel from the yard digging sharply into his palms as he tried so, so, so desperately to ignore that he was sticky and wet and his buckle hadn't even come undone. He felt her come closer, the inevitable warmth before she touched him, hands on his shoulders and forehead touching against his. He didn't open his eyes, grateful at least that she seemed to be avoiding any space below his stomach.

"I never-" she said, fingers slipping behind his neck to weave into his hair, her other hand edging along his cheek. She kissed him once, twice, elbows falling hard onto his chest. "You're so good."

He didn't answer and he didn't open his eyes or even move. He didn't know if he'd ever move again. Just die here. Here was as good as any.

"Daryl." Stern. Chastising him. He couldn't believe he was supposed to be the older one, here. "Daryl, look at me."

It was near painful, letting his eyes sliver open to see her there, face in darkness as her head blocked out the corner lamp. He could see the flush on her cheeks, but couldn't separate that from the apparent concern in her eyes. He worked to keep any expression off his face. This had never happened to him before. Never even been something to be concerned about.

She bit her lip, thumb wiping over his eyebrow and then the top of his cheek, brushing his hair out of the way. "I liked it." He didn't answer, watching her eyes as they darted back and forth over his face, another blush coming up brighter than the first. "I like seein' you -" She paused, looking at his eyes. "Makin' you."

He didn't know what to do with that. He was finding it hard to believe her or even listen to her at all, literally reduced to the ground.

"I would've. In the car. If you'd've let me I would've, too," she said, still not quite brave enough to say exactly what she meant, stammering as she tried to find the phrasing. That was fucking cute. There wasn't another word for it.

And he got what she was saying. It wasn't the same - he couldn't really begin to try and explain the difference between her riding his fucking thigh like it was his fingers or maybe his cock and what had just happened - but he didn't know if it mattered. If he could let it matter. He reached up, brushing along her forearm all the way up to her bracelets that had slipped down from her wrist, his other hand going for the pack of cigs. It was his last but he didn't care, lighting it up, brushing her hair out of the way of the flame. He felt better once he had that hit of smokey nicotine, watching her sit back to make room for the smoke as her fingers stroked through the hair above his ear.

He offered it to her. He wasn't sure how he felt about dragging her into this habit, but he hadn't been there when she'd gone off and gotten her own. She shook her head, though, biting her lip as she watched him. "You're bein' quiet."

He took another deeper drag, enough to make his chest burn before he answered her. "Tired." She frowned, and he squeezed her wrist to draw her eyes back. "I'm good."

She let out a breath that felt like relief. "Good."

Yeah. They would be.

when will they fuck? The world may never know (jk I'll get them there. Patience, young grasshoppers).