When Beth walks into the bedroom with her arms full of clothes and kicks the door closed behind her she finds Daryl scrunched in on himself by the window. He's scowling at the low sun as though his hostility might prevent it from setting.

"Here. Put these on," she says holding out a change of clothes.

Daryl glares at the offering. "Why can't I wear my own damn clothes?"

Beth suppresses a smirk as she rakes her eyes down Daryl's body and takes in the blood stained vest and jeans still stiff with dirt from weeks on the road.

"Because Carol wants t' wash 'em. She said she's gonna hose you down if she has to," Her mouth does slide up at that because she's not entirely sure if Carol was joking or not, but she doesn't think Daryl wants to find out.

He snorts, frown faltering slightly.

She nudges the pile of clean clothes at him.

"C'mon, you don't wanna mess with her. She's a mom."

Daryl huffs a sigh and takes the bundle. Flashing him a wide grin, Beth turns on her heel and takes her own clean outfit into the ensuite.

Without anything to unpack, Beth and Daryl had followed Maggie back downstairs and into the kitchen. They were greeted by the mouth watering aroma of real coffee that Glenn had found along with a welcome note from Deanna. It also told them she was hosting a party in their honour tonight so that they could meet the rest of the community. Daryl frowned into his cup of black coffee while Glenn huffed a laugh saying he couldn't remember the last time he went to a party. Beth felt her stomach her tighten with anxiety and she instinctively moved closer to Daryl, feeling comforted as her leg pressed against his.

The idea of being around people and being the centre of their attention fills her stomach with dread. She doesn't know how to act normal, like before. Unsure how to feel, she looked at Daryl. He met her gaze, scrunching his face up like a bad smell had filled the air and pulling a dry laugh from her throat.

Real coffee and parties. The change of pace kind of knocked the wind out of them and for a while they just sat there in silence. After downing his coffee, Daryl shoved off the counter and grunted something about a possum before stalking off to the porch.

Once they'd finished theirs, taking their time, Maggie and Beth explored the cupboards in the kitchen to see what they could use. They kept exchanging looks at the volume of canned and dried goods. There was enough food in there to feed their entire family for a fortnight. Beth even spotted a jar of a peanut butter and felt a grin stretch her face until her cheeks ached.

"Since when do you like peanut butter so much?" Maggie asked, giving her a strange look.

Beth has simply rolled a shoulder. "Jus' need some jelly, diet soda and pigs feet an' we'll have ourselves a white trash brunch."

Maggie smiled back, her eyes narrowing like she wanted to ask something but thought better of it. Good, Beth thought. She didn't want to explain what a white trash brunch is to her sister. She wouldn't get it anyway. Beth didn't think she'd even want her to.

After the kitchen they explored the bathrooms and then the wardrobes. That's where Beth found the clothes they're currently changing into. Not just any old clothes either. She'd found jeans and shirts, even socks and underwear, that would fit both her and Daryl, and relocated them into their bedroom.

But she also found a dress. A blue sundress, with spaghetti straps and the skirt falling just above the knee. Perfect for the sticky Georgia heat. She can't remember the last time she wore something as pretty as this dress.

Undressing quickly, she pulls the dress over her head and looks at herself in the mirror. She smiles. It's a little loose around the chest perhaps but that's nothing new. The idea that she used to care seems ridiculous now. She's learnt to see her body as functional and not decorative, because looking pretty doesn't mean much if you're dead. She swirls, watching the skirt flare out in the mirror, and then carefully combs the knots out of her hair. Loose, washed and knot free, her hair hangs down to her waist in big golden waves. She runs her fingers through it for a moment, enjoying the feeling.

Looking back at her in the mirror is a girl she barely recognises. She sees what the world sees: just a pretty young girl in a sun dress. That's who she was, but that's not who she is now. Out there she faced the world as it is now, and that world squeezed her until she turned into something harder. Daryl didn't keep her from it, he didn't shield her like a child.

He handed her the bow and he showed her how to protect herself. He showed her that she could protect herself. That she could be strong. She can never thank him for it, and he wouldn't want her to. But he has a way of bringing out the strength in people, even if they don't believe it's there. He did it for Carol. He does it for Rick. Now he's done it for her. But what keeps him strong? She wonders. Casting her eyes down herself in the mirror it's the first time she's really seen herself in a while. She's leaner now, all the softness to her limbs replaced with pure muscle. She made it. She is strong.

Putting the brush down she turns and pulls the door open, stepping back out into the bedroom. Daryl's head swings to face her from where he's stood in front of the window and they both freeze. His eyes widen as they track down her body and she's sure hers do the same.

The clean shirt hugs his chest, making him look impossibly broad, the sleeves clinging to his bulging muscles. But his eyes steal her attention away from his hulking frame as they flare, completely enraptured once again. She feels his gaze roll down her body and heat flares up her spine with each weighted second.

"You're beautiful," Daryl whispers, so low it's barely audible but Beth catches it and a smile works it's way across her face.

"Thank you," She whispers back, feeling her cheeks grow hot. "You clean up pretty well yourself, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl huffs a laugh and looks away. Without the usual layers of dirt to hide behind, Beth watches him flush and all of a sudden there's tension in the room that she can't place.

"I guess we should get goin'," Beth says, hands twitching nervously at her sides.

Daryl grunts in response, his eyes flicking back to hers before trailing down her body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he pulls his eyes away almost guilty. He looks down, scuffing his boots on the carpet, leaving traces of black on cream.

Beth mouth twists. Clean shirt. Clean face. Same boots. Same Daryl. She wouldn't change him at all. Not one bit.

...

They walk down the street in silence. Beth follows a step behind and Daryl's darting eyes never settle; habits they can't shake. She's almost surprised he left his bow, but not at all surprised to find him a little lost without it. Every now and then she catches him rolling him his shoulders with a twist of his mouth, as though missing the ache.

When Deanna's house comes into view they both come to a stop. The windows are lit and people are actually standing on the porch, their voices carrying down the street. Little mistakes like that would get you killed on the road and Beth feels her shoulders tense, her body registering the danger as her mind reels. It's dark; they need to get inside, board the windows and keep quiet until morning. Pray there is a morning.

Except that they don't.

Beth takes in a deep breath and then releases it slowly, relaxing her shoulders. She feels Daryl's gaze on the side of her face but she doesn't turn to meet it, doesn't need to. These people don't know they're born, behind these walls with their canned goods and their unboarded windows.

Yet they are the ones that are supposed to walk in there and present themselves, to gain favour or approval and fit in to this shit show. Her hand reaches out and grabs Daryl's, lacing their fingers together tightly.

Fuck that.

If their own family, who know and love them, are struggling to accept whatever this is, then what will the desperate housewives of the Alexandria Safe Zone have to say on the matter?

Beth swallows, looking up and meeting Daryl's gaze. He looks agitated, his jaw and shoulders tight. He also looks curious, his eyes scanning her face as though trying to look for a cue as to how to respond. She just shrugs and then watches as his entire face slackens with relief.

Ever since they found their family Beth has felt the scrutiny of their gaze, well meaning and confused for the most part. Now finally they find themselves in a pocket of space that is just theirs. With everyone at the party there's nobody to watch them and make them feel uncomfortable; it can be just them like before.

Beth feels a grin break out across her face at that thought. She has Daryl all to herself, a room of their own and all the possibilities that creates makes her heart flutter.

She takes a step back, her hand pulling his where they're laced together and turns away from the party. Daryl's grip on her hand tightens and he follows, his eyes following the movement of her skirt and forgetting the streets of Alexandria entirely.

"Daryl. Beth."

Their heads turn to find Aaron standing on the porch of a nearby house, watching them with a kind smile on his face.

"Hey," Daryl answers for them both with a nod.

"Thought you'd be at that party over there," Beth says, and they all turn their attention to the lit windows filled with people.

"Oh, I was never going to go 'cause of Eric's ankle, thank God," Aaron says, meeting Beth's eyes and sharing a look of relief that feels as though it's just for them.

She supposes Aaron and Eric have encountered more than their fair share of unwelcome stares.

"All right," Beth says with a smile, taking another step away from the party and towards the bubble of her and Daryl she wants to wrap herself in.

"Hey. Come in." Aaron interrupts eagerly. "Have some dinner."

Beth stops. Her stomach pangs at the promise of food and she swings her gaze up to Daryl. He looks as unsure as she feels and she wonders if he feels the same pull she does for it to be just the two of them again.

"Come on," Aaron pleads with smile, "it's some pretty serious spaghetti."

Beth looks back at Aaron. Something in his eyes tells her he's genuinely as good as he seems. Maybe one of the only genuine people behind these walls. Maybe one of the only good people left.

There are still good people left. Isn't that what she said?

"We'd love to," Beth answers, with a smile, "Thank you."

Aaron's face brightens as Beth climbs the porch steps, pulling Daryl along with her.

...

Beth, Aaron and Eric exchange an affectionate smile as Daryl slurps down his spaghetti like a rampant toddler and then washes it down with half a glass of Merlot.

"Thanks," he grunts, dragging a sleeve across his mouth as he clears his plate despite the others having barely touched theirs.

"Yes, thank you. This is amazin'," Beth smiles at Eric before taking a sip of her wine.

She feels the sweet alcohol warm her bones as she sets her glass back down. A smile works its way across her face as she misses the burn in her throat that the moonshine gave her the last and only other time she drank alcohol. It feels so strange to be sat here drinking, and for once not because of the world out there, not just. It feels strange because of the world inside Beth Greene's head. There was never any wine around her dinner table growing up, on account of her daddy's problem. Just sitting here drinking wine feels decadent, almost sinful.

"Mmm, when you're out there, if you happen to be in a store or something, Mrs. Neudermyer is really looking for a pasta maker," Eric says in a giddy rush.

Beth and Daryl stare back at him blankly.

"And we're all really trying to get her to shut up about it. I mean, we have crates of dried pasta in here, but she wants to make her own or something, " Eric explains, shaking his head with a laugh.

Beth continues to stare blankly as Daryl downs the rest of his wine, which Eric promptly refills as he speaks.

"I really think she just wants something to talk about, so if you see one out on your travels, it would go a long way to-"

Eric stops suddenly as his eyes meet Aaron's and finds the other man staring at him deliberately. Beth's brows knit together.

"You didn't ask them already?" Eric asks, exasperated and Aaron shakes his head gently, pressing his mouth into a line.

"Ask us what?" Daryl growls, taking another gulp of wine.

"I asked Deanna not to give you two jobs because I think I have one for you," Aaron says, almost apologetically.

"Oh?" Beth asks, setting her fork down.

"I'd like you to be Alexandria's other recruiters," Aaron explains, then glances at Eric quickly before looking back at them. "I don't want Eric risking his life anymore."

"You want us riskin' ours, right?" Daryl asks, his voice low and rough, eyes narrowing into icy slits.

Beth feels his large hot palm land on her knee, his thick fingers curling around her thigh. His touch is both soothing and wakes her up at once.

"An' I was just beginning to like you." She says, fixing Aaron with her own cool stare.

Aaron blinks back at them and nods. "Yeah, because you know what you're doing."

"More than anyone," Eric adds.

"You can tell the difference between walkers and humans by sound," Aaron says to Daryl, eyes widening in awe.

Daryl shrugs, drinking deeply from his glass as Aaron swings his gaze to Beth.

"Can you tell the difference between a good guy and a bad guy? Rick doesn't seem to be an' expert at that." Aaron says carefully.

Beth meets his eyes with her calm blue gaze. She soaks up his words, his expression, the lilt of his voice, and waits for him to continue.

"There ain't much of a difference no more," Daryl rasps, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Beth's knee cap and causing a shiver to run down her spine.

"You're good out there," Aaron says to Daryl, "But you don't belong out there."

He turns his attention back to Beth. "I know it's hard getting used to people getting used to you."

"Believe me, we know," Eric adds, giving her a sympathetic look.

"And I understand right now you need to be out there sometimes," Aaron says, looking at Daryl again. "So do I."

At some point, the calloused tips of Daryl's fingers started tracing circles along the soft skin of Beth's inner thigh, making her feel hot and breathless. Daryl's face is suffused in red as he drains his glass again to avoid meeting Aaron's eyes. His touch is soft and exploratory, making her wonder if he's even aware what he's doing as his hand glides an inch further up her leg and her breath catches.

There's a stirring between her legs and a simmering heat crawling up her spine with each teasing movement of his hand. Her mind snaps back into focus when Aaron speaks again, catching her eyes and holding them with his soft imploring gaze.

"But the main reason why I want you to help me recruit is because you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person."

Beth swallows, pushing down the excited fluttering in her stomach and the apex of her thighs as Daryl's wide hand cups her thigh, spanning the width of her leg and blasting her skin with heat from his palm. The way that he's touching her now reminds her of the shower and the way that he explored her skin with tender reverence as though committing it to memory.

"We got nothing else to do," She answers, her voice coming out so thick that Daryl's head snaps to face her and his hand stills.

Beth takes a drink of wine to clear her throat, feeling her face flush as they all watch her curiously. The rush of alcohol makes her head feel light and her muscles feel loose, like she's floating. When she glances up at Daryl she inhales sharply when she sees the way that he's looking at her. His face is flushed, his pupils are blown wide and he's staring at her like he's not sure if he wants to consume her or be consumed by her.

Eric and Aaron exchange a smile across the table.

"Sleep on it. Come see me tomorrow," Aaron says, his eyes darting from Beth to Daryl with something like restrained fascination.

"Alright," Daryl grunts, standing suddenly. "G'night," He nods to Aaron and Eric before reaching out and grabbing Beth's hand.

Beth gasps, her stomach lurching with excitement as Daryl practically drags her out of the house and into the cool night air. With her dress swirling and her body thrumming with anticipation, they descend the porch steps and head back down the empty street towards the empty house that they might someday call home.