A/N: I have a feeling this is a chapter people have been waiting for. This chapter is M-rated but if you'd like to skip that part, just stop at the asterisks. Enjoy! (One more chapter to go and possibly an epilogue!)
Beth's eyes widen when several walkers start to stumble towards them, arms outstretched, and mouths gaping open.
A walker sprawled on the ground reaches out for Beth. She grits her teeth and kicks out with her foot, her boot heel smacking the walker in the forehead.
Daryl's firing at another walker that's looming towards them. She can't count how many there are, but the smell of them is overpowering and they just keep coming.
"Get up!" Daryl shouts at her.
She scrambles to her feet and aims her crossbow, hitting a walker in his eye. She can see Rick, Michonne, and Abraham on the other side of the fallen telephone pole as they fight off their own group of walkers.
A sound like a train racing past makes her wince as she walks steadily back, and Daryl grabs at her arm. Hail starts to pummel them as they edge away from the walkers heading their way.
"We gotta find cover," he shouts over the rain and he points to the sky. It's gone dark grey and the clouds are swirling and she knows that sound. She was only five years old when a tornado touched down ten miles from their farm, but she remembers what it sounded like, full of fury and wind.
Daryl takes out another walker and then another by swinging his crossbow at its head.
"Hey!" Rick calls to them, but Beth can't see any way of getting back to the truck, not with walkers streaming out of the cellar and that damn pole in the way.
A strong gust of wind knocks down the sign off the hunting store and it crashes to the ground, pinning some walkers beneath it and just missing the truck by a foot.
Across the road, a tree branch crashes into a shop window and several more walkers come groaning out, heading towards Rick and the others. Abraham opens fire on them. More walkers round the corner ahead of them, drawn by the sounds.
"Shit, just go!" Daryl shouts. "Get the hell outta here! We'll catch up with you!"
He grabs Beth's arm and pulls her away from the walkers and down the road, away from the others.
"Beth!" Michonne yells.
"We'll catch up!" Beth shouts, echoing Daryl's words. "Clarkesville! We'll meet you in Clarkesville!"
Beth turns and catches Daryl's eyes as they run away from the others. The hail and rain is coming down in sheets and it stings Beth's face as they turn to run down the street, walkers stumbling after them. They turn a corner and Daryl curses.
Another cellar door has been smashed open and more walkers are spilling onto the street. They dodge outstretched arms and Beth swings her crossbow, knocking a walker aside.
"Jesus Christ," he shouts as Beth tugs him down another street. "They just shove everybody in the basement?"
They run past the town square around a rectangular green lawn and the wind has picked up and the small crepe myrtle trees are bending over with the force of it with leaves flying every which way.
"Gotta get somewhere strong!" Daryl shouts.
Beth nods and they keep running.
As they head down another side street towards a series of houses, a green awning over a cafe window swings down and strikes Daryl's forehead.
He grunts from the impact and falls to his knees.
"No!" Beth yells, her heart stopping and then surging quickly in her chest. She checks his face and the wound is already starting to bleed, but he blinks at her and shakes his head.
"'M fine," he says wincing.
"Come on," she says, ducking under his arm and half-lifting him to his feet. She squints through the rain and hail and spots a red brick house across the road. She points. "There! The brick one."
Daryl stumbles slightly as they walk quickly across the road to the brick house its white shutters banging against the side of the house.
That loud roaring sound comes through again and they hurl themselves at the front door. Beth shouts once to draw anything to them, but nothing responds.
They slam the door closed and Daryl throws the deadbolt. They open up the first door they see situated under the stairs. It's filled with old toys and blankets and they frantically pull them out to make room for themselves
The roar is louder and the house is starting to shake.
"Get in!" Daryl grabs Beth's arm and practically throws her inside the small space. She huddles down into a corner and Daryl follows her in and pulls the door closed.
It's fully dark inside the closet a part from the pale line of light at the base of the door and Beth grabs Daryl's vest and pulls him close.
He hunches down and wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her hair.
The roar is right on top of them and the floor vibrates and Beth wants to cover her ears it's so loud. Daryl's arms are like steel around her and she presses her face against the leather of vest and squeezes her eyes shut.
The roar is deafening and the house groans around them and then…
Silence.
Utter silence.
Beth isn't sure if she can trust it, so she cautiously lifts her head as Daryl lifts his own. Her ears are ringing something and she can't stop her hands from shaking.
"Is it safe?" she whispers.
"Not sure," he says. She looks at him and sucks in a gasp as the light under the door illuminates his face dimly.
"Your head," she says, grabbing a blanket off the shelf and pressing it to the deep cut above his eyebrow. He winces.
"Sorry," she murmurs. "But it's bleeding pretty bad."
"Yeah, head cuts always do," he says, pressing his hand over hers. "You can patch me up later. Let's see the damage first."
Beth frowns, but lets him move away to push open the closet door. She blinks at the light, but notices that it's still raining heavily outside.
They go to the door and peek out the windows.
"Oh, wow," Beth murmurs. The houses across the street, the ones left standing that is, are gutted. Wooden cladding is strewn about the street, household debris is everywhere. A large tree has been uprooted and lies on its side blocking the entrance to the street. The tornado landed far too close for Beth's liking.
"Thought it was too late in the season for tornadoes," she says quietly.
"Not in this world, I guess," Daryl says, his face grim. "Mother Nature must want to clean things up."
Walker bodies lay all over the place and Beth wonders where they all came from. She makes a face when she realizes some of the bodies are still moving. Even more worrying are the ones that are on their feet and stumbling about.
"Should we get out of here?" she asks, not liking the amount of walkers on the street. "Find the others?"
"Gonna be dark soon," Daryl says, scanning the street. "That rain doesn't look like it's going to let up, neither."
"True. And honestly, you shouldn't be walking around with that cut on your head," she says, walking over to him. He looks down at her while she tilts his head towards the dim light coming in through the window. "Don't think it needs stitches." She looks back out the window. "Can we stay here tonight?"
He peers out the window again and says, "Don't like being around all those walkers and all that mess. Half those trees look like they're going to pitch over at any time."
"So we head out the back door?" Beth suggests. "Go towards the least damaged houses?"
"Yeah," he nods. "Don't want the thing that takes us out to be a goddamned tree."
"Me neither," Beth says. "But first, I'm bandaging that cut."
"No time," he says shaking his head. "Don't want to lose the light. Just slap a band-aid on it."
He sits still (mostly) long enough for Beth to do just that after she rummaged through the bathroom on the second floor where she found some large band-aids, some washcloths, and some aspirin. He won't let her spend the time to clean up where the blood has streaked across his face and so she only attaches two band-aids to the worst of the cut.
"That should do for now," she says, pressing a quick kiss to his head.
"Knock it off," he mutters and she just grins at him.
They do a quick sweep through the kitchen and grab what cans they find in the cupboard. Beth finds a backpack and they shove the cans and what's left of the band-aids inside.
Daryl loads up his crossbow with the bolts he'd taken from the store earlier and then slip out the back of the house. The damage to the houses behind them isn't as bad as the ones on the front, but long planks of wood and other pieces of debris lie all over the place.
They walk carefully away from the more damaged of the houses, the rain once again soaking into Beth's jacket and jeans, matting her hair to her head.
Daryl leads them northeast, in the direction they want to head eventually and they come to a row of houses that look better off with only a few downed limbs in the yards. They pick another brick house, this one a single story, and after walking through it and finding no bodies or walkers, they lock up the front door.
The rain and the wind are still howling outside and Beth shivers, her clothes still wet on her body. There's a small marble fireplace while there isn't any firewood, there's some of those fire logs that are supposed to burn for hours. Daryl sets to getting those in place.
"Going to see if I can find some other clothes," she says heading towards the master bedroom.
Daryl nods. "Pick me some out, too?"
Beth finds some jeans that should fit her, if a little baggy, along with a long-sleeved green shirt. She finds some grey pants that should fit Daryl, along with some flannel shirts.
She walks back into the living room and stops when she sees that Daryl's already stripped off his vest and is working on unbuttoning his shirt. He looks up at her, through the wet strands of hair hanging over his eyes. She can see his throat work as he swallows hard and she walks slowly into the room.
"Found some clothes," she says and she doesn't recognize her own voice. It's gone all low and husky and she's just been feet away from a tornado, she shouldn't be primed and ready to jump Daryl Dixon's bones, for God's sake.
He just watches her and his hands fall from his shirt. She looks at him and rolls her eyes.
"You look like you've been in a horror movie," she says. "Can I please clean up your face now?"
"Knock yourself out," he says sitting on the floor next to the fireplace, the fire log cheerfully burning.
"That darn thing almost knocked you out," she says kneeling in front of him and grabbing the backpack for the band-aids and other supplies.
"Got a hard head," he says.
"That's for darn sure," she retorts grinning at him.
She wets the washcloth with some astringent she found in the bathroom and gently wipes the blood from his face. He just watches her as she carefully drags the washcloth across his face. Her skin feels too tight and she bites her lip to keep from asking him to touch her.
"Quiet," he says after a little while.
"Hmm?" she says meeting his eyes.
"It's quiet," he says, awkwardly. "With just us."
"I kinda like it," she says, smiling a little crookedly. "Feel sort of bad about it, but I like it when it's quiet."
"I won't tell anyone," he says. He looks down while she takes off the band-aids she'd stuck on earlier that have gone crooked during their dash through the rain. "It's good we found everyone."
"It is," she says, glancing at him.
"Glad we did," he adds.
"Me, too," she says pouring some water onto a clean cloth.
"We'll find them again," he says. "When the weather clears up. Find us a car and catch up to them."
"I know," she says.
"But…" He sighs.
"But?" she repeats.
He looks at her and she feels something warm and tingly inside her stretch and twist.
"But it's nice being here with you," he says, his voice so soft she almost doesn't hear him.
"Yeah?" she says.
"Yeah," he answers.
They sit in silence while Beth cleans the cut itself with the washcloth. She winces as she dabs at it and says, "Sorry, I know that stings."
He just stares at her, having gone quiet again. She wonders if the awning hit him harder than she thought.
"Are you okay?" she asks. She holds up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three, I ain't concussed," he says his voice as steady as his eyes are as he watches her face. "I just don't know what I did in my lifetime that was good enough to be here with you."
Beth feels her face flush and she bites her lip. "You were just you," she says going back to patching up the gash on his forehead. "Not altogether sure what I did to get here, either."
"I ain't no prize," he says. "And you're fucking beautiful. What the fuck are you doing with me, Beth?"
"Falling the fuck in love with you, what do you think?" she says grinning a little helplessly at him. His eyes widen and she has to laugh. "Oh, looks like I found another way to get you quiet."
She finishes cleaning the cut and puts a band-aid on it, then sits back, watching and waiting to see what he'll do. He hasn't moved since she spoke and she's now feeling apprehensive and a little restless.
"You sure that's a good idea?" he manages after a while.
"What? Falling in love with you?" she says. She shrugs, far more casually than she feels. "I'm pretty sure I've had dumber ideas."
"I'm an asshole sometimes," he says.
"I'm a spoiled brat sometimes," she counters. "Nobody's perfect, Daryl. And…we're better together. Aren't we?"
"Yeah, but… Don't think I can say it back to you," he says looking pained.
She shakes her head. "I don't need you to. Just…show it sometimes?"
There's a pause and she can almost see the precise moment where he comes to some sort of decision.
"I can do that," he says before he leans in and kisses her. ***
The kiss is rough and messy and they've been running on pure adrenaline for the last several hours and the storm is still raging outside and her skin is chilled from the rain, so when his hands cup her face, she gasps at the heat that flares up. He presses his advantage and his tongue slides alongside hers. She starts pulling at his shirt, fingers fumbling with buttons, as he pulls her wet jacket off.
The next few minutes are filled with both their curses as they try to take their wet clothes off and Beth can't help laughing out loud when her jeans get stuck on her boots.
"Goddamn it," he mutters while he chuckles and she presses her mouth to his, trying to capture the sound of his laughter in her mouth.
After several breathless kisses, Beth feels like she's going to burn up from the inside if he doesn't touch her and they go back to getting their damn clothes off.
Then she's naked, on her back, and he's covering her body with his and his body is so incredibly hot on top of hers. His skin is warm and stretched taut over lean muscles and his hands are gentle even as his calluses catch on her skin. She runs her hands over his chest and his sides, around to his back. He jumps when her fingers trace his scars, but she quiets whatever he was about to say with her mouth and he just groans against her lips.
His mouth moves down her neck and across the sharpness of her collarbone and then he's cupping and licking at her breast. The rasp of his tongue on her nipple sends a furious pulse through her and she holds his head in place as he gently suckles her. Then he drags the flat of his tongue over her nipple and she moans and wraps her legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer. He moves back up to kiss her mouth hard.
"You done this before?" he asks as his mouth moves down to suck at a spot on her throat.
"Just the once," she breathes. "Please don't stop."
"Wild horses," he mutters before taking her mouth again with his.
His hands are everywhere and when they finally, finally stroke where she's gotten so wet and so hot, she arches her back and her nails dig into his shoulder blades.
"Ease up," he murmurs, his mouth on her temple. "I'm gonna get you there, go easy, easy."
But she can't. It feels like she's been waiting forever for this feeling to be released and she can't stop her hips from rocking against his hand and she squeezes her eyes shut.
"Un huh, open 'em," he says pulling his face back. "I gotta see those eyes, Beth."
Her eyes open on a gasp and as he strokes something just inside, her gasp rises in pitch and she's goes nearly blind with pleasure and sparks surge through her body.
"Oh, Christ," he says on a groan and she tugs his head down to hers. The kiss is sloppy and she can't get her legs to wrap around him, they've gone limp in the aftermath of her orgasm.
He raises his head and curses as he reaches for his pants. She watches dazedly as he pulls out a familiar box and she snickers.
"Yeah, laugh it up, Greene," he mutters practically tearing the box in half to get at the condoms. She does laugh, she can't help herself, she's giggling and she wonders if this is why people do drugs? Is it to reach this giddy high that's filled her body and her head? She runs her hands over his chest and down and around to palm his butt.
"God, you feel good," she says as he sits back on his haunches and then she's watching him roll the condom down and she has a moment of panic because this is important and there's no taking this back. But when she glances up at his face and sees him just looking at her, she just smiles and reaches for him.
He meets her halfway, his mouth crashing back to hers and she's flat on the floor again and she feels him at her entrance and then he's easing inside of her and it's them and they're together and then she's moving and he's moving and everything's building up inside of her once again, but it's sharper now and she's filled up with him, his taste in her mouth, his smell in her nose, and his texture under her hands and against her skin and, and, and…
She actually cries out when she comes and he follows her with a shout of her name and his hips pulse against hers and her entire universe is this moment and this man and there's nothing else she needs.
Later, after he's gotten rid of the condom, he rolls back over and pulls her close and she tucks her leg in between his. The fire is still blazing in the fireplace and Beth feels warm all over. Slightly sore in places, truth be told, but happier than she ever remembers being. Tears prick behind her eyes and she breathes in shakily, trying to hold them in.
He notices, of course.
"Hey," he says as he raises his head to look at her. "You okay? Was I too rough?"
"No, no," she says smiling and shaking her head. "Happy tears, I promise."
He doesn't look convinced, so she lifts her lips to his and kisses him gently and then with more force until he's on his back and she's sprawled on top of him. When she's had her fill, she slides down and rests her head on his chest.
"I meant to go slower," he says pressing his mouth to the top of her head.
"We got all night," she says, pressing a kiss to where his heart beats in his chest. "I'm not exactly opposed to doing that again, you know."
His hand slides up the length of her spine and then back down to rest on her butt; she wriggles against him and feels the blood beneath her skin start to simmer.
"Should eat something," he says, his hand traveling across her back again.
"Yeah?" she says breathlessly as she hitches her leg up to rest against a part of him that's quickly hardening.
"Should also get some sleep," he says, his voice tight and restrained. "Had a busy day today."
"We sure did," she says pressing kisses across his chest and sliding her body to rest fully on top of his.
"Or," he says, his hands cupping her butt and pulling her forward. "We could keep at this for a while."
Beth nods and sits up, her legs falling to either side of his hips.
"Let your hair down?" he asks softly. She pulls at her hair tie and her hair falls to her shoulders. He reaches up and touches the ends of her hair so tenderly she thinks she might cry again.
Trying to keep the waterworks to a minimum, she says, "I have to admit, I'm not all that sure what to do."
"Did all right a few minutes ago," he says, his hands sliding from her hair to cup her breasts.
"Oh, that's nice," she says, her head falling back. "I just…oh, Lord, that feels real nice…what do I do?"
"You're a farm girl," he says as his hands move to cradle her hips. "You know how to ride."
She looks down at him, at the smirk on his face, and she grins.