A/N: I apologize in advance at where I leave this chapter – but I promise to make up for it. Eventually. To be honest, I'm a little disgusted with myself for ending things there, but all in good time! Y'all are wonderful – thank you so much for reading this!
Beth quickly looks away from Daryl as he sinks back down into the water. He drops so fast, that Beth might find it funny if she could, you know, breathe.
"Sorry," she says, turning her back and making a face at herself.
"S'fine," he mutters.
Beth busies herself with wiping the gore off her knife while she hears him get out of the tub and dry off. She turns when she hears a zipper being pulled up and she hopes she's schooled her expression into something normal. Something that doesn't scream: Take me now! or Leave your shirt off!
She's had crushes before. Heck, she's had boyfriends. But she hasn't felt like this. Like there's some kind of force pulling her in his direction. She feels like she's circling around something and sooner or later she's going to crash into it. That 'it' being Daryl and whatever it is that he might feel for her.
Dang it, her blood's simmering again. She clenches her fist and the muck from the walker squelches between her fingers and she grimaces. Her blood stops simmering and she thinks she's found the cure to Daryl Dixon inspired lust – looking at blood and God knows what all over your hands. She heads up to the tub and catches sight of Daryl slipping his leather vest on over his flannel shirt and she sees a small strip of his stomach and her blood starts simmering again.
Nope, she thinks. Not even walker guts can turn this off. Aw, hell.
"We should eat something," Beth says aiming for a normal tone and mostly succeeding as she goes to the tub to wash her hands off. "I think the stove is a gas one. We could give it a try."
"Or it could blow us to kingdom come when we light it up," he says peering in at the kitchen.
"I didn't smell any gas," Beth says, wiping her hands dry on her jeans and walking over to him.
He grabs his crossbow. "Better not risk it. I'll go off a little ways and cook them up. Don't want to attract anything to us with the smell."
"Wait," she says. "I'll go with you."
"Don't have to," he says and she knows that tone. It's Daryl's shy, awkward tone and Beth isn't going to let him get all weird on her.
"It's part of training me," she says, putting her hands on her hips. "You haven't shown me how to skin these things yet and I figure that's something I should learn."
He eyes her. "It ain't pretty."
She eyes him right back. "Is anything pretty these days?"
Her cheeks flush when he doesn't look away straight off and now it's her turn to go all awkward and shy as she bites her lip and hunches in on herself slightly.
"I just mean," she says trying to recover and knowing her cheeks are the color of tomatoes. "I want to learn. I need to learn."
"All right," he says holding his hands up. "Know better than to argue with a Greene girl by now."
"Good," she says grinning.
He turns to look out at the walker bodies and squints his eyes. "Don't know about sleeping here tonight though. Feels too open."
"Should we go back into the woods?" she asks.
"Was actually thinking about that," he says pointing up at a tree across the street.
Beth looks where he's pointing and laughs. "Always wanted to sleep in a treehouse."
Truthfully, it doesn't look like much of a treehouse from where she's standing. More of a deck perched in a tree. But, it's off the ground and they'd have a good view of the neighborhood.
"Grab your stuff and anything else you think you need," he says, getting his crossbow and his own bag. "And get that map."
Beth goes back into the house and grabs her bag and the map from where she left it. She looks through the bedroom one more time and on impulse grabs a pair of scissors out of the bathroom. She can hear Daryl going through the kitchen cabinets. She grabs some more underwear and socks, then goes back downstairs. Stopping by jackets that have been left on hooks by the front door, she takes a small denim one and tries it on. The sleeves are a little longer than she'd like, but it feels sturdy enough.
Wordlessly, she follows Daryl out the back door, which they close behind them. On silent feet, they walk across the street towards the treehouse.
"I'll go up," Beth tells him. "You cover me."
"You sure?" he asks.
Beth nods and grips her knife in her hand. Daryl steps back and takes aim at the platform where planks of wood nailed to the tree lead up to. Beth looks to him and he nods.
She starts climbing. The planks are sturdy under her hands and feet, but her stomach's anxiously churning. She pauses when she reaches the top. Then, as quietly as she can, she places a hand on the platform and raises herself up just enough to peek in.
"It's empty," she calls down softly as she pulls herself up the rest of the way.
It isn't a proper treehouse, there are no walls to it, just a simple wooden rail that goes around the length of the platform. There's a small wooden stool in the middle of the floor and a few weathered magazines. Beth glances at them and chuckles to see a Tiger Beat and a Seventeen mixed in with some National Geographics.
There's a thump behind her as her bag lands on the floor after Daryl tossed it up. She hears the creak of the planks as Daryl climbs up.
"Not bad," he says coming to stand beside her. "Let's go cook up Thumper."
"Ugh," she says, shoving his side. "Jerk."
"You wanted to learn," he says.
She glares at him. "I'm going to get real tired of you saying that."
He just smirks and points at the rabbit and squirrel. "Come on, Greene. Grab your knife."
Daryl takes them close to the edge of the woods from where they originally came from and Beth get to making a fire.
"Get the rabbit ready first," he says. "It can cook while we're working on the squirrel."
"What do I do?" Beth asks as she sits down, determined to not get squeamish over innards and stuff. She grew up on a farm, and besides, nothing could possibly be more disgusting than walker bits.
"Take your knife and cut a line down the middle," he says, crouching next to her. He points to where she should pierce the skin and his arm presses against her shoulder. The warmth of his body settles her nerves somewhat and she does what he tells her.
She soaks up everything he instructs while a small voice in the back of her head is constantly bouncing up and down whenever he touches her.
Shut up, she tells it. I'm busy here.
The voice ignores her and continues its play by play.
She skins the rabbit making a mess of one the back legs so much that she has to throw that bit away. She gets it onto the spit and then starts in one the squirrel, which is much trickier.
"Crap," she says when things go a little icky and she cuts too deep. "Sorry."
"You're doing all right," he says. "Better than my first try. Must be your little fingers."
She shoots him a quick glare. "I actually have done this before, in biology class. We had to dissect a fetal pig one month."
"Why?" he asks frowning.
"To learn something, I guess?" She shrugs. "It wasn't my favorite part."
She peels a bit of the fur off and decides she's done enough damage to the little critter. She turns the rabbit and sets the squirrel over the fire, too.
Late afternoon is settling in and the light's going slowly orange as the sun makes its way down. Beth stares at the fire and listens to the world around them.
"You liked school?" Daryl asks after a few minutes.
Beth glances at him, surprised at the question. "Aspects of it. I liked my friends and I liked chorus. History could be interesting and I liked reading." She wrinkles her nose. "I would've liked science a whole lot more if it'd had less math." She turns their dinner over. "I mean, I liked learning about the concepts. The way stuff in the world works, but I hated all those equations."
"Yeah," he says rubbing his chin. "I kinda liked math, myself."
"Yeah?" she asks looking at him.
He shrugs. "It made sense a lot of the time. You've got one thing on one side. You do something to it and it changes it on the other side. Subtract something, you get less. Add it, you get more." He shrugs again. "Keeps things real simple."
"And you like simple?" she asks.
"Better than complicated," he says, not looking at her and digging in the ground with his knife. "Bunny's about to drop."
Beth frowns and looks at the fire. "Oh, crap!" She quickly takes the rabbit off the fire before it can fall into the flames. She sets it down on the grass and Daryl chuckles. "Oh, hush," she says. "Tell me you've never done that."
"Ain't a liar," he says.
"You sure aren't," she says handing him a good three quarters of the rabbit. "I think you're the most honest person I know."
She can feel him watching her as she takes the squirrel off the fire and she wonders what he's thinking. Is she just a complication in his life that he'd be better off without? Or does he want her around? Does his blood start fizzing in his veins when she looks at him the way hers does when he's looking at her?
Beth tears into her rabbit with a bit more violence than she means to, but she's really not sure what to do with herself now that she's pretty sure that this crush of hers has deepened into something more. She feels restless and has the urge to do something dramatic and even finds that she's eyeing a house nearby wondering what it would look like if she set fire to it.
Oh, for Pete's sake, Bethy, Maggie's voice says in her head. You are such a drama queen. You could just ask him, you know.
She chokes on her rabbit at the thought of actually asking Daryl Dixon about his feelings and has to grope for her water bottle.
"You dying over there?" he asks, his mouth full of rabbit.
"Not yet," she manages between coughing. "Went down the wrong way."
"Well, don't let it," he says. "Hate to see Thumper be the end of Beth Greene."
She glares at him, but he just looks back at her, with no hint of teasing in his eyes.
"You really are the honest person I know," she breathes, feelings of trust, respect, and love (May as well admit it, Bethy, Maggie's voice says) swirling inside her.
"Saves time," he says going back to his rabbit. He's eating quickly now and Beth's fairly sure that means sharing time is over.
She finishes off her rabbit and breaks off some of the squirrel for herself, handing the rest to Daryl.
They put out the fire and head back to the treehouse.
"Be right there," Daryl says, veering off towards the house. Beth stares after him, but then heads up the tree. She looks out over the neighborhood and realizes that there are more houses than she thought. Most have white exteriors and big porches. Movement catches her eye and she spots a walker a block away shuffling next to a rose bush. Daryl comes out of the house and Beth grins.
He's carrying what looks like two comforters that he must've taken off the beds. When he gets to the treehouse, he lobs them up at her and she stumbles back when she gets a face full of fabric. They smell a little musty, but they're soft and Beth arranges them on the floor of the platform.
"Thank you," she says when Daryl climbs up.
He just gives his usual shrug. "Hand me that map."
She gives it to him and he sits one on the comforters, and she settles next to him. Absently, she grabs the brush from before and starts in on her hair again. She hadn't put it up after her bath and it's getting tangled.
Daryl frowns at the map and then points. "We're here." Beth leans in. "We've gotta head up the street then make a left. That'll take us out of the houses and towards the tracks. If that's still what you want to do."
"I still want to," she says nodding. "It makes sense, doesn't it? Going towards something that leads out of the area?"
"Reckon so," he says, rubbing at his forehead. "Want to look in some of these houses in the morning, though. You need something other than that knife."
"Another crossbow?" she asks.
"If we can find one," he says. He eyes the houses below. "Don't think these folks were big outdoors people, though. Might find a rifle though."
"Won't that be too loud?" she asks.
"Better'n nothing."
She can't disagree and finishes brushing a section of her hair. She flips it over her shoulder and it lightly hits Daryl's shoulders.
"Sorry," she says smiling.
"Sure got a lot of hair for a little thing," he says looking her over.
"I know," she sighs. "I think I should probably cut it some. What do you think?"
He raises his eyebrows. "Do I look like I know that answer?
"Yes," she says firmly. "For hunting and tracking and you know, being all stealthy. Would it be better shorter?"
"It's your damn hair," he says. "All that matters is that it stays out of your way and that people can't use it against you."
She makes a face. "That's what I thought. Right." She gets up and rummages in her bag for the scissors she nabbed earlier, then she pushes the comforter so that she sits on the bare floor. "I'm going for it. I might need you to do the back." She looks at Daryl, who has an expression on his face akin to a deer in headlights. She rolls her eyes. "I'm not cutting it all off. Just a few inches to make my ponytail shorter."
He still looks wary.
"It doesn't have to be perfect," she says smiling and taking off her jacket and shirt, leaving her in a tank top. "I'm not picky. See?"
She creates a section of her hair and thinning it between her index and middle finger, she snips close to three inches off the bottom. A blonde clump of hair falls to the floor.
"Jesus," Daryl says sounding impressed. "You just went for it. Christ."
"Why fuss over hair?" she says with a kind of carelessness she almost feels. "It'll grow back."
She keeps cutting her way around her head and is aware the entire time that Daryl is not taking his eyes off of her. He watches as she shakes out her fingers that are cramping from holding the scissors too tightly and as she shakes her head to get the cut hair off. Her hair now falls to skim the tops of her shoulders and it feels pretty good. Less of an actual weight on her head.
Beth grins at him and then turns around. "Is it even in the back?"
She hears him clear his throat and says, "Not quite. You missed a bit."
"Have at it," she says, holding the scissors over her shoulders.
He clears his throat again. "Sit on the stool so I can get to it better."
"Okay," she says. Her heart is pounding in her chest and she cannot tell if she is an idiot for asking him to do something that's going to involve him putting his hands on her, or if she's a genius for asking him to do something that's going to involve him putting his hands on her.
Maggie's voice snickers in Beth's head but stays quiet otherwise.
Beth sits on the stool and Daryl moves up onto his knees behind her.
His hand skates over her hair, from the top of her head down and her skin prickles and tingles and breathing becomes an issue again.
He pulls on her hair gently and the back of his hand rests against her bare skin above the edge of her tank top. The sound of the scissors echoes in the treehouse. His hand slides against her skin as he moves along to the next section.
He does this four more times before saying, "Looks pretty even now."
Beth takes comfort in the fact that his voice sounds ragged and hoarse. She doesn't consciously want to cause him discomfort, but she feels ready to explode so it's nice to know that this is affecting him, too.
"Thank you," she says and for a moment, she doesn't recognize her own voice. It's much lower and sounds just as ragged as his does.
He makes a sound deep in his throat when he hears it and she freezes.
Then, softly and so unbelievably gently, his fingers slip through the strands of her hair to touch the back of her neck. They slide her hair to the side and her hair spills over her shoulder. His fingers trace back the way they came and Beth gives up trying to breathe.
His hands splay out on the back of her shoulder, his palm big and heavy on her skin. His thumb sweeps down across her shoulder blade, dipping beneath her top and then back up; her breath hitching at the feel of it.
He pauses, but then he moves his thumb once more, adding the slightest pressure, and she can't stop the moan-gasp-sound that comes out and she turns around to face him.
Daryl's eyes are narrowed but clear and bright as they stare at her. He glances down at his hand like he's not sure what it's up to. In fairness, she's not sure what she's up to, only that she doesn't want him to stop touching her. When she turned, his hand trailed over her shoulder and it's now resting on her collarbone. He trails his thumb across the bone and Beth shivers when his calluses catch on her skin.
Beth doesn't know what to do and all the voices in her head have gone quiet and she only knows that she wants this to continue, so she keeps still, not wanting to spook him.
He looks almost worried as his other hand rises and touches her face. His fingers trace the curve of her cheek and when she turns her face into his palm, he makes a sound like he's been punched in the gut and he stops.
"Hold up," he breathes.
