The first time Daryl got sick, as far as he could remember, was when he was probably about six years old, and his tiny body had been plagued with coughs that shook his entire frame, a headache so bad he felt like his head was going to explode, and a stomach that churned even at the thought of any food, not like they had any. No one had bothered to take care of him, his daddy out probably screwin' some cheap woman, his mama passed out drunk on the couch, and his big brother was no where to be found. For three straight days, little Daryl couldn't even manage to muster up enough strength to get off of the dingy uncovered mattress he called his bed, and on the fourth day when he emerged from his room, his mama didn't even look his way.
The first time that Daryl would get sick as an adult would be much different. The flu was nothing to mess around with, he had learned. The fever made sweat drip from his pores while chills rushed over his skin, his lungs burned with every breath he took and suddenly he was cursing all of the cigarettes he smoked over the years, but the moment he felt like he truly could just die was when he leaned over the side of their bed, puking into a bucket Beth had placed in front of him just in time. She waited patiently while his body rejected the acidic contents of his stomach, with a soothing hand placed on his bare back, rubbing gentle circles. He felt weak, both physically and mentally, and he hated that she had seen him like this, but when Beth first saw the way his eyes were drooping and pressed a hand against his cheek, she gasped and ushered him straight back to the bedroom, ready to actually restrain him if he attempted to leave for work. "I'm fine." He had told her. Her only reply was to put her hands on her hips and stare at him with eyes that said 'try to fight me on this and see what happens'.
"I've gotta run down to the market real quick." She spoke softly, brushing the sticky hair out of his eyes. "You gonna be okay for a little bit?"
What he had really wanted to say was that yes, he would be fine for twenty minutes because he was a grown man who had made it thirty years without her, but he refrained - partly because of the lack of energy and partly because he knew he was just irritated and shouldn't take it out on her, so instead he settled for a subtle nod.
Beth kissed his forehead and tucked the sheet up underneath his chin and walked out of the room. He heard her start up the car and drive away as he stared up at the ceiling, but soon he felt his lids drooping and sleep claimed him again, dreams filled with the images of the little blonde nursing him back to full health.
When he woke again, it was still dark outside but he wasn't sure if that meant he had been asleep for a couple hours or an entire day. His mouth was dry but he was surprised that his body was too, and then he noticed the lack of chills and realized his fever had probably broken. He breathed in through his nose and found that for the first time in days he was actually able to smell, and because of that he knew Beth was in the kitchen cooking something.
He threw the covers off of his body and groaned softly as he stood up, stretching his stiff muscles out. When he lifted his arms above his head, trying to relieve the tension in his shoulders, he made a face of disgust as he smelled himself and realized he needed a shower pretty badly. His legs felt wobbly, no doubt from the lack of use, as he made his way down the hall into the living area. He could see Beth in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove in sweat pants and a camisole, body hunched over a large pot of soup - chicken noodle, he could now make out. She finished stirring and set the spoon down on the counter and turned around, her eyes widening when she realized he was out of bed.
"Well look whose back from the dead." She smiled while walking around the counter to come towards him. "Was starting to think you might never wake up." That had answered his questions he had about how long he had been out. She tried to come off as humorous but Daryl could pick up on the subtle hints of worry in her tone. Probably had been wondering at what point should she try to drag him to a hospital, and Daryl was grateful it hadn't gone that far because while he might have secretly enjoyed Beth caring for him, he hated having a bunch of unknown doctors and nurses fussing over him - but hey, the last time he had back sassed a nurse, he ended up falling in love with her. "Couldn't even wake ya up long enough to get some Tylenol down, but luckily the fever went away on it's own." She reached for him, pulling him close with her face pressed into his naked chest but the look of love and relief was quickly replaced when she wrinkled up her nose and pushed him away gently. "Good Lord, you need a shower."
And so off she sent him to bathe while she finished preparing their dinner, planning on forcing him back to bed after, telling him that even though he was feeling better. As the water cascaded over his sore body, allowing it to thoroughly drench his hair as he pressed his palms against the cold tile wall, Daryl thought back on the past few days. He knew now that when he thought back on being sick, he wouldn't think of being alone in his childhood room, surrounded by filth and neglect. Now he would think of the woman he loved, tucking him into their bed, comforting him as he retched, cooking him soup, and picking up medicine at the pharmacy for him. It might not have been the classic definition of romantic but to Daryl it meant true love, and he knew that if Beth was in his situation, he'd do the same for her.
That is why he was not surprised, when he found himself standing in the middle of the grocery store, staring down the forbidden aisle, while Beth was at home curled up in bed cursing her womanhood as she clutched her stomach in tears, he had to take a breath and push his silly little immature feelings to the side as his eyes scanned the shelves for the box Beth had described. Tampax, Playtex, o.b., how many different variations of this shit could there be? But Beth had been very specific and so when he found the right box of tampons, he quickly grabbed them off of the shelf and thanked Heaven that he hadn't been stuck there searching for twenty minutes because then that probably would have invited some poor person to come and ask if he needed assistance and that was one conversation he never planned on having with a sales clerk. But when he set the box on the counter, along with a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream, he felt a sense of pride when the female cashier looked at him fondly, thinking 'what a good man'. At that moment he was reminded again that this was real - he was grateful to have this woman in his life, and he knew she would do anything for him and he the same for her.
I sincerely appreciate the response to the last chapter, it totally made my day to read all the lovely reviews. Thank you so much guys and since you are all enjoying this so much, I decided to get another chapter out ASAP. This was one that a few of you guys said you would like to see so let me know if you enjoyed it, because I sure enjoyed writing it.