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Chapter Four. White Wine.

"I'm going to come with you today." She didn't ask.

Daryl had been getting himself together, making sure he had all of his bolts and knives, and at Beth's words, he lifted his head to look at her. Her boots were already on and a pack was on her back. Her knife was hanging from her belt loop. She was looking at Daryl, a look of determination in her eyes but she also looked a bit nervous.

He didn't know why she would be feeling that. If she wanted to come with him, he wasn't going to stop her. The way her mind was working lately – figuring out things for them to eat – he figured she'd be damn good at scavenging for things he wouldn't even think of.

The houses in the St. George subdivision had proven to be useful. This whole place had generally been untouched by other people and scavengers. Daryl thought it was because it was a bit off the beaten path – which made it absolutely perfect in his opinion. The houses – for the most part – had a good variety of things to take. It was newer and when things went to shit, there were still a few unfinished houses, in the middle of construction. Daryl knew those building materials left behind would be some of the most useful stuff they would have. He was already thinking of ways to use it all.

Daryl went out, just about every day, if not working around here or out in the woods, hunting, and would pick a different house to go into. Somedays, going over it so carefully, he would only get through one house a day and there were still plenty left to go through.

"Sounds good," Daryl gave a nod and Beth smiled. "Lookin' for anythin' in particular?"

She took a breath and almost looked a little shy. "White wine."

"White wine? You think it's a good thing for us to be drinkin' again?" He asked with a little smirk – which grew into an actual smile when that got Beth laughing.

He liked when he was able to get Beth to laugh. He didn't know why but it made him feel good. Like he did – or was doing – something right.

"It's for a recipe," she explained though she didn't really have to. Daryl figured that's what it was for since neither of them were looking to just sit around and get drunk. Not again.

There was no way Jack, their fox, was staying behind when he saw that both of them were leaving and his leg was now as healed as it was going to be. He still walked with a slight limp but that didn't slow him down. He scurried out from the garage as Daryl and Beth stepped out and Daryl made sure everything behind them was locked up tight. Beth waited for him and together, they walked from along the side of their house to the cul-de-sac.

"'ve been workin' this direction," he said, cocking his head to the left.

Beth nodded and together, they headed in that direction. Jack was walking/skipping in front of them, watching everything with a close eye the same as Daryl was doing.

"What's the recipe?" Daryl asked and he wondered why he felt the need to fill the silence but he looked to Beth walking next to him and he just knew that he wanted to talk. He knew it was because he wanted to hear her talk, too, but he didn't think he was ready to actually admit that.

She smiled and pulled on the straps of the pack. "I don't know how good it will be because it calls for cream, which I obviously don't have, but it's mushrooms, thyme, onion and garlic. There's also soy sauce, olive oil and a little bit of white wine. I fry it all up over the fire and then eat it on hard toast. The mushrooms and thyme grow wild so that won't be a problem but wild garlic and wild onion don't really grow in this region. I think I might experiment with garlic and onion powders – if I can find either. None of the gardens here have anything like that growing - unfortunately. So, I need that, soy sauce and white wine."

"That sounds amazin'." He swore that his mouth was already watering.

Her cheeks turned pink and like making her laugh and wanting to hear her talk, Daryl admitted that he liked when he could get her to blush. Really liked it. He didn't know what that meant. It was just something that he knew he liked.

"I hope it will taste amazing, too," she answered. "I feel like…" she stopped herself from going further but Daryl looked at her, letting her know that he was waiting. She shook her head and looked down to the ground as they walked. "I feel like now that I can actually bake bread, I can do just about anything."

She seemed embarrassed to have even been thinking something like that let alone saying it out loud. Her eyes were still on the ground and she wasn't even glancing in his direction.

"You can," Daryl said – his voice low and serious.

Beth's eyes flew up to look at him and Daryl looked at her, too, so she knew that he meant it. He didn't know why she still thought that about herself. She had survived – same as him. Everything he had been through since they lost the prison, she had been through it, too. She had gone toe-to-toe with him and had yet to back down. She was every inch of strong that he was.

She didn't say anything but her lips turned up into the smallest smile. Daryl gave her one, too.

They stopped at the house next to the one he had scavenged through yesterday. The houses in St. George alternated between a ranch and a two-story model. Ranch then two-story then ranch again. There were never two ranches next to each other and the same with the two-story houses. This house today was a ranch just like theirs.

A decaying body was lying in the driveway next to a car, its driver's door open. It had been shot through the head. Daryl didn't even notice as he stepped over the pile of clothes and rotted flesh, falling off the bones, but Beth gave it a wide berth. The front door was open, just a crack, and Daryl pushed it open slowly. He knocked on it loudly with the butt of his crossbow.

"Jack!" Beth hissed as the fox didn't wait and hobbled right inside. She and Daryl waited another minute but didn't hear any movement from anywhere but both stepped inside cautiously nonetheless.

The layout was the exact same as their house and Beth headed down the hallway to the kitchen in the back of the house and Daryl followed after her. The house seemed to be in alright shape except being neglected for so long with no people around and a thick layer of dust covering everything. Straight into the kitchen, there was a spice rack hanging on the wall. He watched as she looked over the jars and smiled.

"Onion and garlic powder. Both sealed tight so they should still be good," she let him know.

And because she was smiling, he smiled, too.

She looked back to the rack and gasped. "Cinnamon!"

"For more bark?"

"For more bark," she confirmed.

She began going through the kitchen and Daryl headed across the open space into the family room. His eyes glided right over the family pictures as his eyes always did. They weren't pictures of real people. They were just pictures of things that had been long gone and meant nothing to him. In the corner, there was a dry bar and he moved right to it. Damn, these people had had a good stock.

"White wine," Daryl said, holding up the bottle.

Beth clapped her hands as she left the kitchen to come to him. "Is this a good one?"

He snorted. "You know me. I used to be a regular wine connoisseur back in the day."

She began to laugh and it seemed like as she tried to stop, she just continued to laugh even harder. She leaned into him – as if needing him to keep her upright – and listening to her laugh and feeling her warm body against his, Daryl knew he really liked all of this, too.

…

THANK YOU so much and please take a moment to comment!

I would feel so much pressure, trying to update things, but now that I've taken that pressure away from myself, I actually find myself WANTING to write so yay!

We will see Beth's mushroom toast in the next chapter and what to do with potato peels in another chapter.