…
Daryl didn't know why he couldn't sleep. He didn't have any pressing matters on his mind and nothing was going on in his life that would cause it to interrupt his brain enough to keep him from sleeping. He didn't think so anyway. Whatever it was, he was out on his front porch at four o'clock in the morning, wide awake, sitting on the steps and smoking his first cigarette of the day.
He kept meaning to quit and to be honest, he kept meaning to quit because of Beth and George. He didn't like smoking around the kid and with Beth, he didn't want her to be kissing an ashtray. She had never said a thing about it before but it was on his mind so he figured it had to be on hers, too.
Dog finished marking a tree in the field and came trotting back to Daryl. He plopped down on the ground in front of him, between his knees, and Daryl rubbed a hand down Dog's back.
"Good boy," he murmured and together, the two watched the quietness of the trailer park.
The morning birds were beginning to wake up and sing about it. Across the way, he saw a light go on in the Leesman trailer and he knew that Greg was getting up for work. A light in Siddiq and Rosita's trailer went on, too, and Daryl wondered if Coco had woken up or if Siddiq was getting to the clinic early today.
Daryl's eyes moved to the other trailers. Still dark – as they should be at this time. He looked next door. It was dark as well but he knew that it wouldn't be like that for long. Even if she didn't have a first shift at Aldi, she would still wake up early. She was an early bird like him; especially since getting a bed and getting a full night's of good sleep.
At first, George hadn't slept good in his. The kid had never had a bed of his own before and had spent his whole – young – life so far, sleeping next to his mama. The first few nights, Beth would wake up with George crawling into her bed with her and Beth hadn't been able to tell him that he couldn't do that. He was four years old and in Beth's mind, of course he could come sleep in her bed with her.
It was Merle, of all people, who got George settled.
Beth had bought a one-pot meals cookbook from Dollar Tree and was going through it, page by page. In addition to trying them out on her and George, she always invited Daryl, Merle and Ms. Mackey over, too. Sometimes Mr. King as well, but that man – even with his age – was the pickiest eater Daryl had ever met and if it wasn't deep fried or barbecued, nine times out of ten, Mr. King wasn't interested.
Tonight, it was one-pot creamy chicken pot pie noodles and as Beth worked in the kitchen, Ms. Mackey had brought over Candyland and she, Merle and George were in the living room, playing a game. Daryl had taken it upon himself to take the plates and silverware and set the table. Frankie and Dog were there, too, quite home in Beth and George's trailer as they were in their own and they both had a rawhide bone each, now lying in the living room with the others, chewing on it.
"Hell, yeah!" Merle grinned excitedly as he landed on the space for the Gumdrop Pass.
"Merle," Beth said from the kitchen.
Merle gave George a wink and George giggled.
Ms. Mackey took her turn, drawing her card, and George moved her figure for her to the next blue square. Merle and George were on the floor, but Ms. Mackey was on the couch – the board game on the coffee table – and she wasn't having an easy time moving forward, complaining about her bones. Daryl had asked her more than once if she was alright and each time, Ms. Mackey frowned at him for pestering her.
"You ask me that one more time, Daryl Dixon, you'll know exactly what aching bones feel like."
"How are you likin' that bed, George?" Merle asked as the boy picked a card for his own turn.
George shrugged and moved his piece to the right square. "I'm sleeping in mama's bed."
Merle frowned at that. "How come? Somethin' wrong with yours?"
"He's just never slept on his own before, Merle," Beth answered for her son.
"Le's see your bed," Merle said, standing up, and after a second, George hopped to his feet, too.
Daryl admitted to being curious of what his brother was up to and Frankie abandoned his rawhide to trot after them, deicing that he didn't want to miss something.
In George's room, there was the bed and a bookshelf with three shelves with the projector light Rosita and Siddiq had given him for his birthday sitting on top. The closet door was open and the small amount of clothes he had were all hanging neatly from the bar. He had toys now and they were scattered around the room, on the carpeted floor, being played with as much as a boy should be playing with his toys.
Daryl admitted to smiling just at the sight. Now this looked like how a little kid's room should look.
He had a black comforter with different colored rocket ships all over it and white bed sheets. In addition to his pillow, he also had his dragon back pillow that Daryl had gotten him and his stuffed dragon was sitting on the foot of the bed, waiting for him.
Frankie trotted into the bedroom after them and the French Bulldog began sniffing at all of the toys. Merle looked at the twin bed in front of him and then down to George.
"Sure looks like the most comfortable bed I ever seen," he said.
George frowned a little. He looked to Daryl as he leaned in the doorway and then looked to Merle. "It does?" He asked.
"I think I might wanna be takin' a nap here 'fore dinner." Merle then seemed to dive for the bed, laying himself down and getting comfortable. The dragon was knocked off and George let out a laugh, looking at Merle on his bed as he went to pick up the dragon, hugging it to his chest.
"Is it really a good bed?" The boy asked.
Merle sat up, propping himself up against the back pillow. "Hell yeah, it is. You know, in jail, you sleep on a twin bed like this. Bit narrower than this, but the same general thing."
"What the Hell you tellin' him that for?" Daryl frowned.
The last thing he thought a four-year-old should hear anything about was jail, for fuck's sake.
But Merle just gave him a grin before looking back to George. "But the twin beds in jail ain't nothin' like this. So comfortable. If they were this comfortable, no one in jail would ever want to leave again."
"Is that true?" George asked, hugging his dragon a little tighter.
Merle sat up then and swung his legs around the side of the bed. "One thing about us Dixons, we don't lie. Now I promise you that."
George looked at him and then to Daryl. Daryl could tell that the boy was trying to figure that out; decide whether he could believe that or not.
"Wanna know somethin' else, Georgie?"
George turned his head back to Merle. Frankie finished sniffing the toys on the floor and after taking position, he jumped onto the bed. Merle began scratching the dog behind one of his ears.
"And 'member, I don't lie. You're the bravest kid I know. And a brave kid can sleep in this comfy bed, all by himself, all night. Don't you think?"
"I'm brave?" George asked then in a small voice.
"Hell, yeah, you're brave," Daryl spoke up. "Didn' you tackle a kid twice your size 'cause he smacked Cassie around? Bravest thing 've ever seen."
George's chest puffed out a bit at that and Daryl smiled.
"Dinner's ready!" Beth called out and Merle pulled himself to his feet. Frankie hopped down from the bed and the little dog went running from the room.
George looked to Merle and then to Daryl. He hugged his dragon. "I'm brave," he then said quietly; almost as if he was saying it to himself.
Daryl smiled a little and put a hand on George's head. George smiled up at him and walked past, leaving the room to head back down the hall to the kitchen and living room.
"Wha's gotten into you?" Daryl asked his brother in a quiet voice.
"Wha'?" Merle shrugged with a grin, innocent as anything. "Hate thinkin' 'bout a perfectly good bed not bein' put to any use. And this way, you can sleep over without worryin' 'bout a kid interruptin' you." He slapped a hand hard on Daryl's back.
"Jesus, Merle," Daryl breathed but Merle just laughed.
Maybe that was why Daryl was now awake at this insane early morning hour. Merle had gotten in his head because that's what Merle did and now, Daryl couldn't stop thinking about being with Beth, in her bed. Fucking Merle. Yeah, Daryl knew that kisses with Beth had started getting hotter and heavier than they had been but he honestly hadn't been imagining sleeping with her.
(Fine. He had been thinking about it occasionally, but ever since Merle mentioned it a couple of nights ago, it seemed like that was all Daryl was thinking about now.)
He had fallen completely for this woman. When it happened, he didn't even know. Maybe it was that first morning he saw her; when he showed her and George into the trailer and he saw the bruises and figured out what she had been escaping from. Maybe he looked at this insanely brave and strong woman and just fell for her right then and there.
He had never fallen for a woman before but he didn't doubt that the feelings he had for Beth ran deep and ran true. He hadn't been expecting anything like her to come and happen to his life. He hadn't even wanted anything like that. He had just been on his own, with Dog, running his trailer park and living his quiet life. He had never wanted anyone.
Why the Hell would he want anyone? Everyone he had ever known had been a piece of shit in one way or another. Until Merle won this trailer park and left it to Daryl, if he was being honest, he didn't really know that there were people in this world who weren't pieces of shit. The people who lived here were different; special. And they all meant something to him.
Beth, though, was obviously different. From the first second he saw her and the bruise on her face and George's small hand tucked into hers, Daryl knew that she was different. A woman who would walk from Birmingham all the way to Georgia with a three-year-old and nothing but the packs on their backs was nothing but short of amazing.
Beth Greene was everything he didn't know a person could be because despite the hard turns her life had taken for a few years, she still smiled and laughed and loved and worked her ass off to give herself and her son some kind of good life. Even if Daryl didn't have these feelings for her, he would still respect the Hell out of her because it'd be impossible not to.
But he did have feelings for this woman. He was pretty sure he was in love with her. He didn't know what the hell being in love felt like but he had never felt anything like this so he figured that's what it must be. A constant tightness in his gut that made him want to double over in pain. If that wasn't love, it might have been a pretty intense ulcer, but Daryl was betting on it being love.
He finished his cigarette and leaned over, stubbing the butt in the ashtray that Merle had left out on the floor of the porch. Now that Merle lived here, there seemed to be ashtrays everywhere. It was handy but Daryl already knew that it wouldn't make him quitting smoking any easier.
His head whipped over when he heard the front door of next door open and then the screen door was pushed open. Beth stepped out, still in the pajama shorts and tee-shirt she had slept in, and she smiled, looking at him. She came to the top step of her porch.
"Are you alright?" She called over to him quietly.
"Yeah. Jus' was havin' a hard time sleepin'." He gave Dog another rub and then stood up. "Are you alrigh'?" He asked in return.
Beth smiled with a nod. "Can't really sleep either." Daryl tried to think of what to say next but before he could, Beth spoke again. "Would you like to come over?"
"Yeah." His answer was immediate. "Can I bring Dog?"
"Of course," she said, still smiling, and she waited for him as Daryl came from his trailer to hers, Dog trotting ahead as if he heard the invitation and was eager to accept it. "You left a bone over there, Dog," she told him quietly, pointing towards the far corner of the living room/eating area. The German Shepherd understood her perfectly and went trotting for it.
Daryl noted that it was a bit warm inside but he wasn't surprised. Now that Beth and George had actual beds in the bedrooms, the AC cube wouldn't be out in the living room during the night. Summer couldn't end soon enough in his opinion.
Beth closed and locked the front door once again and then without a word, she gave Daryl a small smile and walked past him. Daryl hesitated for only a moment before following her down the short hallway. As Beth went into her bedroom, he peeked into George's bedroom. The cube was in there with him and he felt the blast of cold air. The light projector was on, shooting stars and moons all across the ceiling, and in the bed, George was sleeping deeply. Daryl smiled a little before turning and going into Beth's bedroom.
Beth's bedroom was sparse like George's. She had a bed and a bedside table with a lamp on top along with her digital clock. It was now eighteen minutes after four. She also had the fan on the windowsill behind the bed's headboard, sweeping back and forth across the bed. A bit of the cold air from George's room could still be felt in this bedroom so it wasn't too oppressively hot to sleep in.
Beth's comforter was a swirl of purples and blues and her bedsheets were also white. Daryl watched as she pushed the comforter back and slipped back into her bed. Again, Daryl hesitated, but again, it was only for a moment before he walked to the other side of the bed. He looked down to Beth as she laid on her side, facing the empty space, and she smiled faintly as Daryl slipped into the bed, into that empty space, and laid on his back, where he felt most comfortable. He lifted his arm without thinking about it and Beth smiled and seemed to sigh with relief that he had done such a thing.
She moved to him and when her head rested on his chest and Daryl put his arm around her, she sighed again. "Much better," she said.
Daryl smiled a little to himself and she was right. Much better because his eyes were already closing and his body felt more than ready to go back to sleep.
…
His eyes opened again to find that the bedroom was completely light now and Beth wasn't next to him. He smelled bacon and coffee and he heard Aladdin singing about staying one jump ahead.
Daryl turned his head on the pillow and saw that it was just a few minutes after seven. Christ. He hadn't been expecting that.
Slowly, he sat himself up, letting out one final yawn – his tiredness leaving with it – and pushing the comforter back, he swung his legs around the side, his feet on the carpet. The fan was still going on and the room actually felt bearable, which he wasn't expecting. How hot and humid was it supposed to be today? He wondered how Beth would feel if he bought her another AC cube.
He left the bedroom – glancing into George's room though he knew the boy was already awake – and paused before making himself present in the living room and kitchen. Had Beth talked to George about why Daryl was here, sleeping in her bed? Or maybe she hadn't said anything. Maybe George hadn't even asked. Maybe he saw Daryl sleeping here and didn't think anything was weird about it.
Beth was off from Aldi for the next two days – a break she was very much looking forward to – and she and George were still in their pajamas. George was sitting on the couch, his stuffed dragon on one side of him and Dog on the other, and he drank a cup of milk as he watched Aladdin. Daryl had never seen a kid love and drink milk as much as George did. It made him wonder how much of it Beth was able to find for the boy back when they were in Birmingham.
(Milk wasn't something he, himself, had really had because his parents cared more about keeping their beer and wine supplies stocked; not until he started going to school and was able to get a carton every day at lunch.)
Beth was in the kitchen, frying bacon in a pan at the stove as she sipped a cup of coffee.
George saw him first. "Good morning, Daryl!" The boy happily exclaimed with a smile.
Daryl smiled, too. "Good mornin', George."
Beth stayed at the stove, looking at him with a smile, and Daryl went to her. "Good morning," she said softly, looking up at him and her cheeks were pink.
"Mornin'," he said and glanced over his shoulder, back to George, before to her.
She shook her head, reading his mind. "He didn't even ask about it. You want some coffee?"
"That'd be great."
"And I'm making bacon and eggs."
"Sounds good to me."
Beth kept smiling and Daryl moved in closer to her. She tilted her head up just as he dropped his down and his lips found hers. What was this? Not spending the whole night with a woman but waking up in a woman's bed, in her home, and now about to sit down and eat breakfast and her son like they were fucking Ozzie and Harriet. It was all too surreal to him and yet, he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.
Christ, he didn't want to be anywhere else.
Slowly, their lips parted and he opened his eyes and a moment later, Beth opened hers. Looking at one another, they smiled.
Daryl didn't want to assume anything and he didn't consider himself a mind reader but looking at Beth right now, she looked as happy to have him there as he was happy to be there.
…
This chapter took me forever and was so frustrating to write and I can't even explain why. I think it's just Daryl's POV. Beth's POV has come to me much easier in this story.
THANK YOU very much for reading!