Another fun fact for you guys: the sun stabs me straight in the fucking eyeballs the minute I wake up and so this morning I was woken once more at eight am. Wrote this based off a little prompt from Coco04 on AO3. Little fluffy and all over the place, but enjoy regardless.
Daryl Dixon can drive her crazy. He gets jealous easily and over reacts often, is irrational pretty much all of the time and most especially when it comes to her. He's a dickhead a lot, but that's all people see of him. They see an older man who seems possessive over his little, young prize but it isn't like that at all.
Because they don't see him like Beth does. They don't see for instance, that when she gets to her cell on the night, that all of her stuff is gone and instead, left behind, is one bright red lollipop. An invitation, a promise. They don't see him like that and they don't see, when she goes to his cell, that he's arranged all her stuff in perfect placement of her previous cell.
They don't know the amount of time he must have spent memorising where all her little trinkets go, even though he hates them and often tells her that they're a waste of storage space, nothing but clutter. They don't see the new sheets and blankets he nearly got caught in a fence for on a run. They don't see the candles and the looted bottle of massage oil.
They don't see Daryl how she does. Right now, for instance, he's massaging her back in the warm glow of the candles, his flesh even warmer on hers as it rubs lotion into her skin. They don't see him rubbing down her flesh or kissing her shoulders and they don't see him sliding deep into her, cradling her, coaxing her to her fourth orgasm despite her exhaustion.
They don't see him how she does and so they'll never truly know Daryl Dixon.