Like I said before, I definitely have my writing mojo back, but it's very hard to find time to actually type everything out with a six month old baby demanding all of my time. Thank you all for your favorites, follows and reviews so far! They all mean so much to me!

'A little longer' turned into well over half an hour if Daryl's internal clock was even close to being accurate. After a few minutes, Daryl noticed Beth tilting her head from side to side, most likely because she was suffering from the same crick in the neck that he had. He chocked it up to a coincidence that they both decided to lay back on the blanket beneath them to keep gazing up at the stars. He wasn't about to start fantasizing about things like fate and hope. Not just yet. Last time he started hoping for something, everything ended up blowing up in his face.

Beth's hand bumping his own pulled him from his darkening thoughts. He had almost pulled away, not wanting to crowd her personal space, but then he felt her brush the backs of her fingers against his. He could sense how nervous she was; hell, his pulse had quickened at her touch, and it was just fingers brushing fingers, a ghost of a touch. Testing the waters, because what if this was just an accident – he spread his fingers and caught hers between his. He heard her breath catch, just slightly, but then she pulled away, only to thread her fingers through his, holding his hand palm to palm. He could feel nervous tremors coming from her, so he gave her a light squeeze, just for that little reassurance, and saw out of the corner of his eye a wide smile stretch across her pretty face.

A shooting star flashed across the sky. Daryl was amazed at just how many stars were visible out here to begin with, let alone shooting ones. It had been so long since he actually had the chance to really look at them without the light pollution from the big city, and he realized just how much he missed it. He stretched out his arm, pointing the shooting star out to her at the same time she did the same to him. As he watched the tail disappear into the inky blackness, he dared to wish that this wasn't all in his head, that it wasn't just the champagne causing them to behave like this. It had been so long since he'd been alone with a woman and actually enjoyed himself, and he found himself really liking Beth, more than just a friend. Let her be real. Let this be real, he thought, looking over at her. And don't let me fuck this up if it is.

"Make a wish," she whispered, turning her head to look at him.

Their eyes met and he answered her, "Already done. You?"

He watched, amused, as she scrunched up her face and made her wish. Finally, after a brief moment, she blinked her eyes open and spoke softly, "Me, too."

Another moment passed, Daryl's attention split between the wonder above him and the beauty next to him. He hated to bring it up, but decided it would be better for him to gently break the moment rather than have it shattered by her father coming out to look for his youngest and finding her with an old redneck. "We really should head back to the house. We stay out here much longer, your old man's likely to come looking for ya."

Beth sighed heavily, "Yeah, you're probably right." The tone of her voice told him she was just as reluctant to leave as he was.

Daryl pushed himself up, still holding her hand as she sat up to join him. He gave it a quick squeeze before releasing his grip and put his hand down to brace himself to stand. He immediately pulled his shirt down from where it had ridden up in the back, then offered his hands to help Beth to her feet. He noticed her hands were cool like the night air around them. He pulled her to her feet, noting that she was heavier than she looked...not that it mattered one bit to him.

"Here, help me fold." Daryl took the two corners of the blanket Beth had given him and followed her lead in folding it. Their fingers brushed together and Daryl swore he could see her pulse point in her neck quicken as they did; even the barely-there light from the crescent moon hanging low in the sky couldn't hide her blush. "Thanks," she whispered.

The way she smiled at him left him speechless – all he could do was nod and take the folded quilt from her.

They walked together through the field, the last of the fireflies lighting and alighting as they disturbed the tall grass around them. Eventually they reached the porch steps leading up to the house, where Beth climbed up on the first step, diminishing their height difference. She took the blanket from him, hugging it to her chest. "Thanks for staying out with me, Daryl. It was really nice."

Daryl grinned and ducked his head, kicking his foot at an imaginary clump of dirt. God, all he wanted was to haul off and kiss her, pull her close so he could feel her body against his, like he had when they were dancing.

He was lost in thought, mentally kicking his own ass for thinking she'd want him the way he found himself wanting her. A sweet thing like Beth would never want to mess with some old redneck like him. He almost jumped when he felt her press a quick kiss to his cheek. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, wide with surprise. She looked about as nervous about this as he was. Hell, maybe...

Daryl smirked at her and took a step toward her. He reached up to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear before bending his head low to capture her lips in a kiss. He gently moved his lips against hers, drawing a soft moan from her. He pulled away before the kiss developed into anything deeper, and Beth leaned forward, trying to maintain contact.

He chuckled softly, hoping she didn't think he was laughing at her; honest to God, he was just glad she apparently felt the same way he did. He kissed her once more, softly, before murmuring against her lips, "I'll call you?" It was a question, not a statement. His history with women had taught him never to assume anything.

Beth nodded, her eyes bright in the starlight. Daryl could hardly believe it. Maybe this wasn't all in his head. Maybe, despite being at least ten years older than she was, despite his horrible past and her seemingly charmed life, they actually had something much more than friendship growing between them. He kissed her once more, this time on the cheek, not trusting himself to be able to pull away if he kissed her sweet lips again, then backed away from her, not able to tear his eyes away from her just yet.

Eventually he had to turn around, not quite familiar enough with the Greene's driveway to be able to walk backwards the entire way to his bike. He swung his leg over the seat and looked back at her once more. She waved, the same sweet smile on her face. He grinned and waved back, started the bike's engine, and drove off.

He pulled into Merle's driveway, wondering what time it was, hoping the rumble of the bike's engine wouldn't wake anyone inside. He crept through the front door and palmed it shut, and used his hunter's tread to sneak down the hall to check on Jeremy. He truly was his son, sleeping in much the same position Daryl often did, one foot peeking out from under the covers. Grinning to himself and satisfied that the boy was fast asleep, Daryl made his way back through the house and down to the basement, where he collapsed on his bed. Sleep took its time finding him, visions of a blue-eyed blonde girl with a perfect smile apparently chasing the sandman away.

He vaguely remembered being woken up, Jeremy's hands on his bicep, shaking him as much as a ten-year-old could. He thought he'd responded, mumbling that he'd be upstairs in a minute. The next thing he knew, Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song was blasting through his stereo speakers, jolting him upright and out of his slumber.

"Rise and shine, baby brother," Merle crowed.

He rubbed the bleariness out of his eyes and saw Merle, cackling through a wide grin. He mumbled a profanity or two and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"'Sa matter, Darylina? Need some hair of the dog to get yer ass in gear?" Merle chuckled as he shut off the stereo.

"Ain't hungover," he growled. "Didn't hardly drink, anyway." He thought a moment, then frowned at his brother. "The hell kinda hair of the dog you got, anyway?"

Merle crossed the room to the foot of the stairs leading back up to the kitchen. "Relax. I ain't fallin' off the wagon that easy. Just givin' ya shit for sleepin' so late."

Daryl's eyes flicked over to the digital clock at his bedside. "Ten thirty-five?!" he never slept this late. Never. How the hell late was he up last night? He scrambled out of bed and over to his dresser, pulling out fresh clothes for the day.

"Calm down, son," Merle chuckled. "Don't want you gettin' the spins. Carol made sure to save ya a couple sausage links when ya get upstairs." He climbed a few steps then turned to face him again. "You know, ain't no shame in sleepin' in once in a while." Daryl shot him a surprised look. "Ya work yerself too hard, gunna burn out before ya have any real fun."

Daryl stood there in near shock at Merle's attempt at support. Maybe those meetings are helping after all. Speaking of which, he realized he only had a few hours before he needed to go with Merle to his Narcotics Anonymous meeting. He couldn't even try to muster any bad feelings about it, though. He was incredibly proud of his brother for making such a positive change in his life after all this time.

On the way to the NA meeting, Merle watched Daryl through curious glances as he drove across town. "So. How was the wedding? Ya bang any cute bridesmaids?"

"Shut up, Merle," he grumbled, silently cursing the tips of his ears for turning red without his permission.

"Oh ho! I figured that's why ya crawled yer ass home at three in the morning. She any good?" the older brother heckled.

Daryl gripped the steering wheel tightly, causing his knuckles to turn white, and ground out, "Ain't like that. Ain't that kinda girl."

Merle readjusted in his seat to partially turn to face Daryl. "And just how would you know? You meet her one night and know all about her, huh?" He chuckled, "Izz-at how it works now? Chick gets to talk before she lets ya get anywhere with 'er?"

"Shut up, Merle!" He just didn't need this shit right now. "I told you she ain't like that. Leave it alone."

Merle was quiet for about half a minute before a shit-eating grin spread across his face. "Darylina's in lo-ove..." he sing-songed, though with his rough voice, it was more like a jackass braying than anything. The tips of Daryl's ears were positively glowing. "So now what?"

Daryl shrugged. "Said I'd call her."

Merle cackled, "Hell's bells, brother. Ain't you the sweet one?" He paused another moment, "You know the rule, right?"

"There's a rule now?" he asked, less than enthused about hearing his older brother's opinions.

"Always has been," Merle said as he straightened in his seat. "You call too soon, you seem too desperate, like you ain't got nothing better to do."

The thing of it was, there was nothing better to do than call Beth, at least as far as Daryl could figure.

"Three days minimum." Merle finished.

Daryl glanced over, confused, "Minimum for what?"

"Wait time, baby brother. Wait time." He slid another glance at Daryl. "Though in your case, I might go four."

Daryl was lucky not to hit anything as he reached across the cab of the truck and slugged his brother in the arm.

It was Tuesday before Daryl realized he had yet to call Beth. He told himself he was just following Merle's "rule" to wait three days to call and avoid looking too eager, but deep down, he knew his nerves were just getting the better of him, although technically, Sunday was basically a freebie day anyway. She probably had all kinds of family visiting, and he wasn't about to pull her away from that. Besides, he'd been out of the game for so long he wondered if he remembered how to call a girl. Should he text her first? What the hell would he say? A nagging feeling in the back of his brain kept poking at him, telling him over and over not to get his hopes up too high. Beth wasn't the type of girl to lead him on, at least he didn't think so, but she was sweet enough to smile and tell him it was okay to call her, even if she wanted nothing more than to be friends.

He mentally shook his head at that. She'd kissed him back that night in her Daddy's field. She was just as nervous as he had been.

She'd kissed him back. Many times.

Still, he was guarded, and anxious as hell about contacting her.

He decided on calling her that night and went to his contact list in his phone...only to find she wasn't in it. It dawned on him he didn't really have any reason to have her number in the first place. The contact he had was Glenn, her new brother-in-law, but he damn sure wasn't about to call a man just a few days into his honeymoon. Even though Carol was the wedding planner for Glenn and Maggie, he doubted she'd have Beth's phone number. Maybe she'd have the Greene's house number, but he'd only ask as a last resort. Carol and Merle had very few secrets between each other, and he'd already caught enough hell from his brother over this.

It was time to put his hunting skills to work, though he had very few tracks to try and follow. He didn't have a smart phone, and he wanted to avoid using the house computer to try and find her, not that he'd have a clue as to how to do that anyway. He grabbed the phonebook from the kitchen and snuck downstairs, doing everything he could to avoid Merle catching him and hearing more heckling from him. The problem was, their tiny town wasn't big enough to have their own phone book, so he was stuck going through the Atlanta area numbers. He found the page he was looking for and his heart sank.

There were at least a dozen listings for "Green, Beth." He figured she was in college, so might not be living with her parents anymore, so any of the addresses listed didn't help to narrow things down for him at all. He sighed and started dialing, dropping half the calls due to crappy reception in the basement, but he didn't dare tie up the land line, and he wasn't about to go outside where someone might hear him make a total ass of himself. That's all he'd need was for Merle to overhear or pick up in the middle of him trying to find this girl.

And what the hell was he supposed to say? They couldn't all be his Beth.

Slow down there, Trigger.

Fine, he answered himself. The Beth I'm looking for.

That wasn't much better.

So he came up with a game plan on how to ask if it was...the right Beth Green. He would just tell them it was him, just give his first name, maybe ask if she was Maggie's sister. If not, no harm done. Wrong number. Simple as that.

It all sounded so lame. He didn't even like using the phone. What the hell was he thinking?

He punched in number after number.

"No, sorry."

"Sorry, wrong Beth."

"I'm sorry sweetie, but if you wanna talk to me, I could certainly make time."

He hung up as quickly and graciously as he could on that one.

The mental stress left him exhausted. After he'd called all the Beth Greens, his eyes dropped down the page and saw "Green, Elizabeth." Oh good, there's only another dozen of these, too.

Dammit. Here goes nothing.

Hell, what if she went by Green, B? Or she was unlisted? Or just had a cell phone, not a land line? Or lived on campus so her number wouldn't be listed here anyway? What school did she go to again?

This is hopeless.

At this point, it was close to nine o'clock in the evening. He remembered reading in some "Dear Abby" a long, long time ago, that it was poor manners to call after nine o'clock, as one never knew when another's bed time was, and he didn't want to be rude.

Well, that at least let him off the hook for the night. Not that he was looking for excuses.

Wednesday was another of Merle's meetings, so his window of opportunity was shortened dramatically. Damn him for imposing his "wait time rule." Daryl had no idea it would take this long to find her.

That night, he cracked open the phone book again, hoping for inspiration. His finger trailed past the "Green, H" section, feeling a tightening in his throat like he couldn't breathe and was about to be sick at the same time. He really didn't want to call her father. What the hell kinda wuss are you? yelled his inner Merle voice. (It seemed he couldn't escape him, after all.) Daryl sighed and swore he would try if it came to that, barely comforted by the fact that at least he knew what address to look for if it did.

The thing of it was, there were no "Green, H" listings in Senoia. Surely the house had a land line, and they didn't seem the kind of people to have an unlisted number. There weren't even any listings for "Green, Hershel," "Green, Herschel," "Green, H & A." Nothing.

He went to his dresser where he'd left the wedding invitation, just to make certain of his address.

Dr. and Mrs. Hershel and Annette Greene

and

Mr. and Mrs. Kent and Donna Rhee

request the honor of your presence

at the wedding ceremony of

Glenn Thomas Rhee

and

Margaret Elise Greene

July 12, 2014, 2:00 PM

to be held at the Greene Family Farm

Daryl stopped reading there.

Son of a bitch!

Beth's Green had an 'e' on the end of it.

Daryl swore and collapsed back into the ratty old sofa, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, his shoulders slouching in near defeat, groaning at all the time he wasted on numbers that weren't even close to being right, while his biggest hint was right under his damn nose.

Now he was convinced – Beth would never want to be with such a simple minded idiot like he clearly was.

Still, he'd said he'd call her, and he didn't want to be that guy that promised something and didn't follow through. Dixons were true to their word...at least, this Dixon was.

So he tried again as soon as he got off work Thursday afternoon, starting with the "Greene, Beth" listings, followed by "Greene, Elizabeth," not knowing if it was a blessing or a curse that there were a significant amount fewer than the "Green-without-an-extra-e" variety. Regardless, no one he spoke to could help him. He hung his head and worked up all the courage he had left before dialing "Greene, Hershel" in Senoia. He'd talked to Hershel once or twice before, mostly just "how do you do" and small talk like that at the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, and to him, small talk was just answering any questions directed right at him.

Daryl Dixon wasn't scared of anything, but he'd heard about girls getting butterflies in their stomach. Now he knew what they were talking about as each ring filled his ear, wondering who was most likely to answer, and what to say once they did.

"Hello?"

Shit. It was Hershel.

"Hello, Her...uh, Mr. Greene." Guys were still supposed to call the girl's father by their last name, right? "Is, uh...is Beth there?"

Smooth. Idiot.

"She is. May I ask who's calling?" he replied in his kind but firm voice.

Dammit. "This is Daryl...Dixon."

"Daryl? Glenn's friend Daryl?" he questioned.

Daryl winced at that. "Yes, sir. I...I told her I'd call." Because that's what every father wants to hear... some thirty-something calling his twenty-something year old daughter.

It took Hershel a moment to answer, "I see." Oh, that bodes well. "Just a minute." Seconds that felt like hours ticked by as he heard Hershel walk through the house to find Beth. Then he heard, muffled, "Bethy? Someone for you."

Another few seconds and he heard her sweet voice, "Hello?"

"Hey." A regular Casanova, aren't ya?

"Hi." Did she sound nervous? Confused? Angry? He could certainly understand that. She'd probably given up on him ever calling her, making him feel like a complete ass.

"How ya doin?" Please don't hate me.

"I'm fine. Yourself?"

Yup. She was mad. "I'm good." Daryl racked his brain for what to say. He could only think of one thing that might make her less angry. "Look, I'm, uh...I'm sorry for not calling sooner."

"Yeah...you should be." He swore he could hear her grinning through her sassiness. "Not that I was waiting around for you to call or anything."

Oh, man, she was waiting for your dumb ass to call. "Shit, I'm sorry, Beth. I didn't have your phone number. Not like I could call Glenn and ask. I ain't about to disrupt the guy's honeymoon. Do you know how many H Greens there are in the Atlanta phone book? Then I realized you have an extra E on your last name." She didn't need to know he'd called all the Beths and Elizabeths, too.

To Daryl's relief, her voice softened considerably. "Oh my god, Daryl. You didn't..." she trailed off with a laugh. "And after all that, you had to talk to my dad first? You poor guy."

Thank God. "Yeah. Plus I been real busy at work and going to meetings and stuff. I swear I wanted to call sooner. I didn't mean to leave ya hangin'." He hoped she knew he was truly sorry.

"You're forgiven, Daryl." His heart felt like it had grown wings. "I'll let you make it up to me by taking me out to dinner."

Done and done. He chuckled, "You got it." He glanced up at the clock on his night stand and realized it was time to put Jeremy to bed. "Hey, I really hate to cut this short, but I kinda need to get going. I'll give you a call to figure out dinner. Shouldn't take so long to get a hold of you again."

"I'll make it easier on you," she offered. "What's your cell number?"

He rattled off his number for her, and felt his phone buzz against his cheek soon after.

"Now you've got my cell number, too. Should make things go a little smoother, and you don't have to go through daddy's inquisition. I know how he can get."

"I appreciate that," he said. "I'll talk to you soon, I promise."

"Alright. G'night, Daryl," Beth spoke softly.

"G'night, Beth." He smiled, relieved and glad that the phone call hadn't been a total disaster. And she had made sure he had her number, so she definitely wasn't kidding about wanting him to call her again. "Sleep well," he added, then hung up.

It didn't take long for Jeremy to get into bed. At ten years old, and considering how distant his mother had been the past few years of his life, he was pretty used to getting himself ready for sleep. Daryl pulled the sheets up to cover him then ruffled his hair before saying goodnight and turning off the overhead light, partially closing the door behind him. When he got back to his room in the basement, he saved Beth's cell phone number in his list of contacts, and Hershel's house phone number just in case. He sent her a quick text: Thanks for the number. Have a good night.

Within seconds, his phone buzzed, displaying her response: You're welcome. Good night.

He grinned and breathed a sigh of relief. As he crawled into his own bed and stared into the darkness surrounding him, he found himself filled with a nervous kind of excitement as he wondered how their first actual date would be.

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