7/10
Winter died away with a final gasp of icy winds and dead leaves. Spring, however, bought forth all manner of new life. Animals waking up made hunting easier. The warmer winds bought forth fresh growth. And as the days steadily warmed and the ground slowly thawed, Daryl gradually made his own changes. After their talk during the night when Beth had made him question not only his own strength of resolve, but his own sanity, Daryl had tried putting some distance between himself and his ever growing feelings for the Greene girl. She had simply nodded when he'd quietly suggested that maybe she should start sleeping in her own bunk again; understanding had shone out of those blue eyes, and perhaps a little bit of amusement at his own expense. But she hadn't argued. And for hours that night, Daryl had tossed and turned. Two nights later, after cursing up a storm in his cell, he found himself pulling back the covers of Beth's bunk as he slid in behind her; she hadn't said a word to him as he curled down behind her. Instead she'd laced her fingers through his, and brought their joined hands up under her chin. Her lips had brushed across the scarred skin of his knuckles, and Daryl had dropped into a dead sleep at her touch; they'd been woken the following morning by the sound of pounding feet and laughing children, and Daryl had simply shrugged at the question he saw lurking in in Beth's sleepy eyes, before he'd pulled her closer and closed his eyes again.
Beth hadn't said a word either, when she found him pulling the bunk in his cell out of the wall. She'd simply left him to it as she and Michonne had gone for their morning run. Daryl had grunted and cursed himself for a fool, as he stacked several of the thin bunk mattresses together and side-by-side. While it was no King sized bed, at least they'd be able to share the space without him falling out of bed like he was prone to doing at least once a week. The look on Beth's face had been reward enough; he'd slept better that night than he had in a long time - with Beth curled into his side, he'd been able to stretch out himself. Muscles and tension he hadn't even known he carried slowly released during that sleep, and he'd felt as weak as a new born kitten the following morning when he had slowly woken up. Startled enough by how weak he felt, he'd mentioned it to Hershel – memories of that killer flu still lurked, and Hershel had listened without comment before he'd smiled and clapped Daryl gently on the shoulder. "Perhaps, Daryl, what you need is to stop being so stubborn," he'd suggested, before ambling away as Daryl stood there and scratched his head in confusion, while the need to deny how stubborn he was burned the tip of his tongue.
It was in this new space he shared with Beth that she took the first step to healing herself, and in doing so, changed the course of their relationship. He'd come back to the cell late; he hadn't questioned the addition of a chair to the space. What had caused him to step cautiously, however, was the fear that radiated out of every one of Beth's pores as she perched on the edge of said chair. A brush had been clenched tightly in her hands, and as she sat there, she had spoken plainly. Would he mind brushing her hair for her? She hadn't done it in a while. The memory of her kneeling between the Governor's legs while he brushed her hair swam through Daryl's mind with crystal clarity, and had caused him to rock momentarily on his feet. Beth had taken to wearing her hair in a braid or bundled up on top of her head; full of knots, and the simple pleasure she had once taken in brushing the thick strands had been ruined by a psychopath. Daryl had finally nodded, and had crossed the room towards her slowly as Beth had lost all color in her face.
It was only as she knelt down in front of the chair that Daryl realized she was trying to replace that memory with a better one. Sitting down carefully, he'd barely laid his hands on her when he heard a noise he'd never heard her make before. Her diaphragm hitched, and it was half gasp - half moan; Daryl had sank to his knees behind her when she'd folded in half on herself, and wrapped his arms around her without thought. Beth simply shut down on him in that moment; unsure of what to do, of how to step, Daryl had briefly fingered her hair, before he'd hauled her to her feet and dragged her down to the kitchen. Carol had been there, and in hushed tones Daryl had told her what the problem was. Understanding and compassion shone in Carol's eyes, and she'd murmured an idea. It hadn't taken much to heat up some water; so used to showering in cold water Daryl had almost flinched when he'd washed his hands. But under Carol's calm instruction, he'd washed Beth's hair several times over the sink. Had washed out grit and sweat and fear; had clumsily worked the conditioner that Carol had pressed into his hand through those clean strands of hair, and used his fingers to try and work out the bigger knots.
He'd wrapped the towel around Beth's shoulders and moved her to a chair when Carol suggested it; standing behind her, he'd spoken hoarsely about all manner of things as he worked a comb through the conditioner heavy strands while he gradually smoothed out the remaining tangles. His life before the world had gone to shit. His brother and the fact that Merle had done his best to raise him while in between Juvie and Jail. The best way to track animals in the woods, and the fact that he missed eating oranges of all things; he missed the tart sweetness of the juice as he bit into it, and the fact that he could still taste it on his skin hours later. He missed shooting pool and drinking cold beer in summer, while watching the hem lines of the women he knew get shorter and shorter as the days heated. He missed baseball. His voice had fallen silent when he'd steered her back to the sink to rinse her hair for a final time, and Carol slipped away as Daryl stood behind Beth and patted her hair dry with the towel.
He found a rhythm and fell into it; lulled by silence and the monotonous stroke of the brush, Daryl had stood there for an hour. Beth's hair had gleamed like silk under his fingers in the end, and he'd walked around the chair in silence to crouch at her feet. Her eyes had been aware, and as he'd knelt there, Beth had managed a wobbly smile before she whispered that she missed apples. A tear had streaked down over her cheek in that moment, and Daryl became uncomfortably aware of the fact that this was the first time he had seen Beth cry since before Zach had died. Perhaps it had been inevitable; perhaps it had been fate. But as she closed her eyes, Daryl had stretched up and lightly brushed his lips over the tear that lingered on her cheek. He reached up to brush his knuckles across her jaw when she stilled under the innocent touch of his mouth, and he felt the drop of moisture slide under his fingers as she fought back her tears. Her lips had curved slightly; a heart breaking curve, when he pulled back to peer down at her. One tear had left a long track down her face and now clung to the corner of her lips. Daryl had bent down again without thinking.
His lips had just touched the corner of her mouth when Beth turned her head slightly. For Daryl, it had been more than a simple brushing of lips; it had been closer to a religious experience. The proverbial light had been switched on, and he absorbed the jolt he felt with nothing more than a sigh. For a moment, her mouth remained still and closed against his. Only a moment, but it was long enough that Daryl thought he'd read the situation wrong. But then her mouth trembled under his; trembled and softened, and as he slid his hands through her hair, he felt the cool touch of her fingertips against his face as those soft lips parted slightly under his. He'd thought about this moment during long hours in the tower; how it would feel, and how she would taste and react. And as the tip of her tongue flicked lightly over his, Daryl knew he hadn't given either of them enough credit. The kiss, as breathless as it left him, was surprisingly chaste; he knew others would follow. Other kisses that would lead to touching and tasting and more.
He never saw nor head Carol pause in the open doorway – she'd returned on quiet feet to check on them both, and as she unintentionally witnessed that first hesitant meeting of lips, she felt her heart crack a little. She'd watched Daryl grow and change during the last few years; had always wondered if he would ever view her as anything more than his friend. But a beautiful smile still crossed her face as she stood there, and when Beth finally pulled away, she nodded silently as two broken souls rested their foreheads together and simply breathed each other in. This was right, she mused silently as she backed away – this tug and pull between Daryl and Beth that she had been watching for the last year; on the outside, it should have made no sense. But knowing Daryl and knowing Beth, knowing them as separate people and as a single unit – it made sense. And as Beth tilted her chin up and Daryl lowered his head again, Carol silently applauded them for taking a chance together.
Daryl hadn't said anything as Beth rested her head against his, and neither had she; she didn't say anything when she lifted her chin. He swallowed the soft sigh of contentment she made, and slid his fingertips across the arch of her throat as her lips warmed under his. He could feel the blunt ends of her nails as she scraped them across the back of his neck, and shuffled closer to her on his knees as the kiss they shared darkened slightly. In the end, when Daryl abruptly dropped away from the sweet temptation of her mouth, they still hadn't needed words. Daryl had simply braced his hands against his knees for a moment as he blew out a silent breath before he'd risen to his feet, and with Beth's hand tucked into his, he'd led her back to their cell; that's what it was now. She might keep some of her things in her old cell, but she lived within the concrete walls of Daryl's; it was his bed she shared. His arms, which always kept her safe. It was within that space, within the warmth of the bed they shared that Daryl had finally broken the silence.
"I ain't used to this kinda thing, Beth. You ain't the kinda girl I'm used to dealin' wit'," he said quietly as he toed off his boots, and Beth paused in the middle of pulling back the sheets.
"No," she said slowly, running her gaze over him frankly. "You're not used to letting people in, are you Daryl? Not like this; not like with me. Not even Carol got this close to you. You care about people, that's no secret… but with me, now, you're unsure of your footing. If it was any other woman, if it was Karen, you'd be having sex with her right now. But because this is new… you don't know how to step and neither do I. It feels like we've been leadin' towards this from the first moment in the library when you caught me wit' Zach. This slow build-up of anticipation has made me feel like I was crawling within my own skin. And now we're here… I don't know what to do; I don't mean the physical side of it. That'll be as natural as breathin' wit' you, I think."
She crawled into bed as Daryl slipped his vest off and hung it over the chair she had bought in to the cell.
"I know you're more used to what you had with Karen," she said quietly, and then trailed off and tugged the bedding over her legs when Daryl's sharp gaze swung towards her. The silence between them thickened for a moment, before Daryl unsheathed his knife and set it on the shelf.
"Meaningless sex?" he asked dryly when she faltered, and Beth shook her head.
"Is that what it was?" she asked hesitantly, and Daryl hummed in answer.
"This ain't somethin' I'm used to havin' to explain," he said finally. "I liked Karen well enough; she was a nice woman. But… she never came here, Beth," he said, and then frowned when Beth slowly nodded in understanding.
Daryl simply shrugged as he tugged his tattered t-shirt over his head and sank into bed beside her. Beth's head came to rest against his shoulder when he wrapped his arm around her, and Daryl shifted slightly so he could meet her eyes.
"It ain't ever mattered before," he said roughly, "and it ain't gonna matter again. I won't give this up, Beth; not now. Not now that I know…"
He broke off, unable to voice what he meant; but as always, Beth saw through his unspoken words and when she smiled slightly, Daryl ducked his head and caught her lips again.
XXxXxXxXx
The whole experience was new to him; holding her, drifting off to sleep with her, that he was used too. Waking up with an erection was nothing new either. But knowing he could let his hands linger on bare skin was new, and Daryl huffed out a strangled breath when Beth shifted her hips against his lap and whispered his name sleepily. The rasp of calloused hands against her stomach caused her back to arch, and Daryl grunted in reaction. Pressing his lips to the base of her neck, he breathed in the clean scent of her hair, and scrapped his thumbs along her ribs. Allowing her to feel how turned on he was? That was new too. And as Beth wiggled her hips further into his lap, Daryl's voice strangled him and the words he'd been about to speak died unuttered as he rocked his hips against hers in reaction. The need was there; to touch, to taste and to possess her completely. But he enjoyed the light motion of her hips; the way in which she reached behind her to wind her arm around his neck to pull his mouth harder against her skin.
"I gotta go," he whispered finally, and when Beth mewled out her frustration, Daryl chuckled softly.
He left her sprawled in bed, her mutters unintelligible when she pulled the blankets over her head; a morning person, his girl was sometimes not. Heading outside into the warm morning air, he sat on one of the low benches and lit a smoke as he watched the sun crawl over the horizon; it was something he hadn't done in a while, and he enjoyed the solitude it bought him as the morning breeze stole wisps of smoke from his mouth and sent them dancing around his head. It was only when Hershel eased his weight onto the table beside him that he realised why he had come out here in the first place. Hershel took a mouthful of the steaming mug he held, and then offered it to Daryl. Peering into the mug, Daryl shook his head when he saw it was a drink made out of crushed grains that Carol had concocted.
"Thanks, but I'd rather drink cat's piss," he bluntly, and when Hershel choked on his drink and then wheezed out a laugh, Daryl jerked his shoulder and stubbed out his smoke.
"I've got too much respect for you, Hershel, to beat around the bush wit' this," he said after squinting at the sun, and when Hershel fell silent, Daryl shifted his weight and spoke quietly. "You asked me once if what was between me and Beth might change one day."
Daryl broke off and shook his head as he stared down at his hands. And when Hershel remained silent, Daryl rubbed his hand roughly over the back of his neck and jerked his shoulders again.
"I see," Hershel said finally, and then he blew out a deep breath. "I can't say I'm surprised, Daryl; I know how my daughter feels about you, and how you feel about her. I can't warn you to be careful with her, because you already are. I can't ask you to take care of her, because you already do. I can't even threaten to shoot you if you hurt her, because we both know we can't spare the ammo."
Daryl snorted slightly, and Hershel clapped him on the shoulder.
"Thank you for telling me, Daryl," he said a moment later, and Daryl chewed on the corner of his mouth for a minute, before shrugging again.
"I won't hide it, Hershel," he said finally. "I ain't the grand gesture type; I ain't Glenn and she ain't Maggie. But I won't hide it; not from her and not from you. I don't rightly care what the other's think; ain't none of their business. But you're her Daddy; so I'll let you use the crossbow if I ever hurt her – won't even run."
"Will you give me a lesson on it first?" Hershel asked dryly, and Daryl snorted as the tension seeped from his shoulders.
"Yeah," he said finally, and when Hershel choked down another mouthful of the drink, he sighed and set the cup aside.
"You're right… I'd rather drink cat's piss too," he muttered as he left the table, and Daryl's lips curved into a quick grin as he watched the older man shuffle away.
XXxXxXxXx
Michonne approached him later that night as he checked the perimeter fence; the muscles in his shoulders burned as he dispatched Walker after Walker along the fence line, and when he heard the whistle of a keenly honed blade fly through the air, Daryl knew who it was. He maintained his silence as Michonne worked her way towards him, and simply grunted in greeting when they had finally downed enough Walkers that he didn't feel like the fence was going to cave in at a moment's notice. Patting his pockets for his lighter, Daryl lit his smoke as he watched Michonne; the woman gave stoic a whole new meaning, and as he exhaled, she shifted her weight and nodded.
"Spoke to Beth," was all she said, and Daryl nodded.
"You tell Hershel?" she asked and Daryl nodded slightly.
"Yeah," he said finally, and Michonne looked down at the ground and toed a lump of dirt out of her way.
"I was thinkin' I shoulda maybe told you too, but you were sleepin'," Daryl said, and then reached up to rub his shoulder when Michonne lifted her eyes to his. "I know some mighta thought you wanted Beth…like that, but I know different," he continued and then squirmed when she stilled. "I recon you lost someone along the way. I recon you see that person in her. And in thinkin on it, I recon Beth sees someone in you too. You're kinda like Maggie is to her, but different. You ain't her Ma, but you kinda are, what wit' how you care for her and all."
Michonne nodded slowly, and when she shifted her weight, Daryl lifted his chin as she fingered the handle of her sword.
"Thing I hate about you sometimes, Dixon?" she said suddenly. "You might be some dirt poor redneck, but you've got brains hidden in that skull of yours. You see too much sometimes; see through to the heart of a person, rather than what covers them on the outer. I came out here tonight to give you an asskickin', 'cause I couldn't figure out how you'd gotten Beth to fall in love wit' you. And then you opened your God damn mouth."
She turned away without another word and melted into the night; Daryl was left standing there with wide eyes and a hesitant grin on his face as he listened to her stomp away.
"Quit grinnin', Daryl; I can come back."
Daryl was hard pressed to school his expression when her voice floated out of the dark, but he finally managed and was rewarded by her answering husky laughter. Heading back towards the prison himself, he ate quickly, before bypassing the kitchen to wash his hands and face before the council meeting. That done with, he headed towards the library; he found Beth coming down a dimly lit corridor before he could get there though, and enjoyed the small smile she gave him as he drew level with her. Beth leaned her shoulder against the wall and Daryl mirrored her position as they eyed each other.
"You spoke to my Daddy," was all she said, and Daryl hummed softly when she reached out to finger the edge of his vest with her fingertips.
"You spoke to Michonne," he said finally, and she smiled slightly; a crinkling of her eyes as amusement danced in them, and Daryl snorted as he snaked his hand around the name of her neck.
"Did she threaten you?" Beth murmured as Daryl drew her towards him.
"Hmm."
Just as he bent his head, Beth spoke again.
"Bet she had ya quakin' in ya boots."
His laughter was muffled against her mouth, and he could taste her answering grin as she slipped her arms around his waist. This kiss was less chaste than the other one they had shared; it tasted more of need, and less of hesitation as he flicked his tongue over hers. And as Beth arched up into him, Daryl turned her so that he could lean into her while she leaned against the wall. By the time he finally withdrew from the warmth of her mouth, Beth was all red lipped and swollen, and she made a soft sound of protest before pulling his mouth back to hers by tugging on the lapel of his vest. He discovered the smooth skin of her spine under his fingertips and the curve of her hips as he brushed his hands down over them. He learned that her stomach would concave if he scraped his thumbs across it, just as she learned that his breath would hitch when she pushed herself up onto tiptoe and in doing so, pushed herself more firmly against him. It was only when Daryl found himself beginning to rock his hips into hers that he pulled back. Wrapping his arm around her, they began to quietly walk together back to their cell. Any other woman, he mused silently as Beth rested her head against his shoulder, and he'd have fucked them against that wall where they stood. But this woman? Daryl smiled slightly and ushered Beth into the silence of the night. She deserved more than that.