Sequel to chapter 9, St. Patrick's Day. Thank you for the favorites, follows and reviews! Always appreciated
Daryl knew he was lucky as hell to have met Beth Greene in that bar one Saint Patrick's Day. Luck of the Irish, they'd joked, but there were days she'd talk about how it was just fate and that they would have met one way or another. The world could have ended and they'd still have found each other, Beth would tell him, because they're meant to be together and always had been.
He watched her intently as she slipped her hand out of his and walked off the sidewalk towards the park where the last of the young children were scampering away, off towards their parent's calling voices, off away home safely before the storm hit. Beth, however, seemed to have no similar qualms. She grinned at him over her shoulder as she settled herself onto a swing and started kicking her legs.
"What are you doin', Greene?" Daryl asked, a smile tugging at his lips. He liked it when she did this. She just went off and did whatever she felt like doing in that moment, not caring who saw and what they would think. She was a whirlwind of confidence. Confidence, not arrogance. He loved it.
"Swinging." She replied as if it was the most natural normal thing in the world, swinging in a park as the rain starts sprinkling down around them, as if she did it every day. He gave her a look.
"Swing with me." She requested. As if he'd ever say no to her. He walked forwards and placed himself on the swing next to her. They were both a bit more than just a little wet now. He kicked his feet a bit awkwardly. Beth was watching him as she swung back and forth by him, and he recognized the light in her eyes. The light she got when she realized something, usually about him, usually about things he'd never done or seen or heard. Things she then made a point to fix. To make happen. "You ever swing before, Daryl?"
He scoffed a little. He wanted to say of course he'd swung before. He wasn't that deprived as a kid. But he hadn't, and he was. The kids he had hung around thought it was girly. They called any boy who dared to even sit on a swing a pussy. So he hadn't. Finally, he shook his head. Beth brushed her feet against the ground until she came to a stop next to him.
"You know how?" She asked. He nodded. It looked pretty straightforward. Just kick your legs. He could do that. She reached her hand over the space between them. "Together then?"
"Ain't that a little unsafe, Greene?" Daryl said. She just laughed and shrugged her shoulders. God he loved her laugh. He reached his hand out and folded her fingers in his. It was a little awkward at first, trying to match his rhythm to hers, but they figured it out without having to drop hands. Daryl could tell why kids liked swinging so much, the air whistling around them as they moved back and forth, flying up away from the ground and dipping back towards it before going back up and away again. He felt free, like he did when he sped down roads on his motorcycle.
Beth laughed again, drawing his attention back to the now-drenched blonde beside him. She stuck her feet out and let them graze the dirt just like she had the first time, starting to slow. Daryl followed suit, slipping his hand from hers for a moment as they stood.
"Ready to go home?" He asked and she nodded grabbing his hand again. The wind picked up as the rain started to pour down harder, thoroughly soaking the pair as they walked down the street back towards their apartment building. Not for the first time, Daryl thanked whatever deity or fate or the Luck of the Irish for bringing them together.