A/N: This was supposed to be a quick one-shot from a prompt I was sent… "Just play along… please", but my creative juices are in overdrive so it may turn into a short little fic instead. My simple mind, of course, when straight to the trope you would expect from such a prompt. Nothing inspirational here, just a little Bethyl fun! Thanks for reading. Should have a "What May Come" update soon. Editing the next chapter now.

Chpt 1: What the Hell?

Daryl can see her across the prison yard. Damn if his eyes don't find her more often than not these days. She is walking a little too quickly away from a group of Woodbury kids. "Kids," he harrumps. They ain't no kids. Ever' last one of 'em in their twenties. Old enough to be pullin' their weight around here. Young enough to be a'ight with doin' just the opposite. Not Beth though. Damn girl works her cute lil' ass off. If she ain't hallen' Lil' Asskicker around or singin' sweet to her all night tryin' to get her to rest (which he is beginning to think Judith does on purpose just to hear Beth sing… no complaints on his end), she's helpin' Carol with the cookin' or Karen with the cleanup. If Rick actually takes a minute to hang out with his baby girl, Beth is on the wall killin' geeks. She's a damn tornado. Always doin' somethin' to make life around here tolerable.

Lately, Daryl sees her everywhere. Really sees her… Runs through a mental check list every time he does: not to skinny so she's prolly gettin' enough to eat; wearin' that little braid in her hair so she's prolly in good spirits; big bright eyes so she prolly slept okay last night; sweet smile so she's prolly as happy as anyone can be in this gone to shit world; clean clothes so she prolly been keepin' herself safe and off the wall… He checks them off, one through five, ducks his head before he gets caught staring, and moves on with his day. Until his eyes find her again anyway and then he is running through that checklist again.

Daryl skips right on past his checklist this time. Somethin' ain't right. And it's got his feet moving swiftly in her direction. Her fists are balled at her sides and the usual bounce in her step is missing. Her shoulders are tense, and her typically easy stride is stiff and defensive. She's pissed, no doubt about that. But there is something more. He sees a hint of fear in her eyes too. That gets his hackles up.

Just then the bulky blonde kid catches up to her. Zach, or some suburban shitass name Daryl doesn't care to remember, grabs her wrist and spins her back to him. Daryl sees her jerk her arm away and stumble. The guy is on her in a flash, both hands squeezing Beth's biceps. Daryl doesn't have to hear her wince to know this asshole is hurting her. Fuck that.

"Beth!" he hollers and sees her say something to Zach that makes that asshole's eyes go wide before he drops her arms and starts backing away.

"Coming, Babe!" she hollers back. What the hell? He doesn't totally hate that she just called him "babe", but what the hell!

Beth hotfoots it over to where Daryl is standing, unaware that he has just been struck with acute paralysis. She pushes into his personal space, worn cowboy boots toe-to-toe with his scuffed up work boots, and slaps a chaste little kiss right on the corner of his mouth. WHAT THE HELL!?

She wraps her slim fingers around his biceps and spins him away from the gawking Woodbury crew. Pulls him along beside her. Somehow his feet reacquaint themselves with their normal function, and he finds his usually sure-footed self, stumbling along next to her.

"Just play along… please? I'll explain everything. I promise."

Daryl hums his response and slowly finds himself somewhat coordinated again as they round the concrete wall. Beth pulls him into a shadowed corner and starts apologizing like she's in a confessional. "I'm so sorry, Daryl. Zach's been after me for weeks to hook up with 'im. I've been polite. I've let him know a thousand different ways that I just ain't interested, but enough is enough. I finally told him today, in no uncertain terms, that it ain't ever gonna' happen. But that self-centered jackass just can't take, 'no', for an answer. That's what was happenin' when you hollered. He cornered me against the wall over there. I told him he better back off 'fore my boyfriend sees 'im and rips 'im in half. He just laughed and asked me 'what boyfriend'. Even suggested it might be Rick of all people. Asked me if that's why I'm always takin' care of his baby. Of all the stupid thangs ta' say… I told him it wadn't Rick, and he said somethin' like 'of course it ain't Rick. It ain't nobody,'. Accused me of playin' hard to get. Can you imagine the amount of egotistical, egomaniacal, narcissistic, self-centered BS it would take to believe such a thing when a person has told you a thousand times that it AIN'T GONNA' HAPPEN! Anyway, I skirted away from 'im. Told him to 'keep dreamin',' then he went and grabbed me again. That's when I saw ya' comin'. I told him he was in trouble now, and he just assumed it was because you're my boyfriend. His eyes got wide, and his voice climbed about three octaves when he said, 'the hunter's your boyfriend!?,' and, I'm sorry Daryl, but I didn't deny it. I knew if he thought you're my boyfriend… well, he ain't never gonna' bother me again. You don't gotta' act like my boyfriend or nothin'. I'll tell him the truth and deal with him myself, but I just wanted to explain what all that was about back there. And I wanted to thank ya' too for playin' along. You're a good man, Daryl. I knew you wouldn't rat me out. But, again, I'm sorry, Daryl. I'm real sorry for puttin' ya' in that position. Can you forgive me for lettin' him think that?"

It takes Daryl a second to sort through everything Beth just threw at him. Mostly he's in awe at how she got through that whole thing in one breath. In the time it took her to give him the rundown, he has finally managed to quit tingling from that little peck she planted on him and find his wits again.

"Damn, girl. Why didn't ya' just tell me he was givin' ya' trouble from the start? Could 'a shut him down a long time ago."

"You mean, you aren't mad at me?"

Daryl notices how her accent isn't nearly as thick as it was two minutes ago when she was all riled up. Her cheeks are still a pretty pink though, and she's still standing way too close with both her petite little hands wrapped around his forearms. Weird thing is, he doesn't mind her being this close at all. Not one little bit. But he'll think on that later. Right now, Beth Greene is leaning into his space, big blue eyes blinking in anticipation, eyebrows hiding up in her hairline, and Daryl is trying really hard to remember how to breath.

"Daryl?"

"Ain't mad, girl. Prolly wouldn't hurt none to let him keep thinkin' it too. Maybe we can convince here and there that it ain't a lie." What in the holy hell did he just say?

"What," she almost whispers.

And he swears her baby blue's grow even bigger, like one of those cartoon animals that are more eyeballs than anything else. Damn, if a man couldn't drown happy in eyes like that. "That's enough of that shit."

"What shit," she asks and her forehead wrinkles in confusion.

And now he's speaking his thoughts out loud. Double damn. He's in a shitload of trouble, and fully aware of that very fact.

"Enough 'a you apologizin' and shit. Ain't no need. I'll see ya' at supper. We'll give that little asshole somethin' to chew on." And for whatever reason… maybe he has finally and completely lost his mind… or maybe he's actually dead and it's like that Bruce Willis movie he saw where he just thought he was having a conversation with the people he knew before he finally figured out he was graveyard dead… Daryl bends down and drops a kiss on her forehead before he walks away.

His lips are tingling again, and his belly is doing that weird lift and drop it used to do when he took a hill too fast on his motorcycle. He isn't too sure what he just got himself into, but it's sure as shit too late to do anything about it now…

A/N: So what do you think? Chpt 2? Maybe from Beth's point of view? Let me know! Just play along… please. LOL