Silly suummary for this chapter: Beth and Daryl just deserve some damn cute fluff, so HERE IT IS.
Sorry for the delay in getting this up. I had some plan to make this week an attempt to update more frequently, if not daily than every other day, but no guarantees. It's been super busy at work (I'm covering for two people on top of my own job) and that's usually some of my best writing time, plus I'm exhausted when I get home. But I will TRY to get this updated again this week!
It took longer than he would have liked for the herd of walkers around the mill to clear out, to move on and follow the path to the smoky beacon of Terminus in the distance. Of course it wasn't like they could run out there as soon as the walkers had moved on, but at least he and Beth could get some sleep without the horde of undead pressing to get in and filling the vaulted space with the echoes of their moans.
Beth had found her way of coping while they were still there, though, and frankly he hadn't exactly been in the mood to complain given that her chosen method was curling up at his side and sleeping with her cheek to his shoulder. He told himself he was just glad she'd found a way to get any kinda sleep at all, considering the hell they were surrounded by.
He told himself that he was just glad he could offer her that comfort, because that made it easier to ignore the way it felt to have her curled against him, the way she looked all soft and sweet when she was asleep, the way he'd find himself wanting to reach up and nudge a curled tendril of blonde hair off her cheek or wrap his arm a little tighter around her and draw her closer.
No, his bein' pleased was about her comfort, about her finding a way to cope. It wasn't about any of the rest of it. Or it shouldn't have been, anyway.
Of course, it was harder to tell himself that when the walkers left and she stayed. When that first night full of silent air found her tucking herself right up against his side again with her face pillowed against his arm. There weren't no walkers driving her to the safety of his side, he wasn't protecting her from the sound of them, wasn't making it easier anymore for her to find sleep in a sea of undead groans.
And if it wasn't just about her coping anymore, than he couldn't tell himself that was why it felt so good. Cause it wasn't. It wasn't just about keeping her safe, giving her the safety she needed to sleep. It was about her nearness and the scent of her lingering in the air around him It was about the warmth of her body and the way sometimes she'd shift her head and he could feel her hair brush against his jaw and it would make him want to reach out and curl his fingers through those tendrils.
He didn't, of course. But he thought about it night after night, and the thoughts lingered the next day when the sun was warming the mill and the scent of her still seemed to fill the damn place and all he could think about was that he needed to get some fresh air or he was gonna do something crazy... like kiss her.
If he thought about that too much, he'd think about the fact that maybe she wouldn't mind. He'd think about the way she'd kissed him before and the way her lips had felt against his, and he'd wonder not only what it all meant. He'd wonder if it had all just been in the heat of the moment, or if she wanted more, wanted to kiss him, wanted him to kiss her. He'd want to try... And he knew he had to get some goddamn air.
But not without her, of course.
(Never without her.)
He came up from checking the perimeter through the windows downstairs, and found her standing by the window, peering out into the distance. He knew he wasn't the only one who was starting to feel a bit stir crazy in here. It wasn't having a steady place that was the problem, it was the fact that they hadn't left these walls in days. Beth must have been itching to get out again just as much as he was.
So when he leaned against the post at the top of the stairs, there was a hint of a smirk on his lips as he asked, "You wanna get out of here for a bit?"
She spun around almost immediately, her blonde hair flashing in the sun, her eyes big and bright and wide with excitement the moment they fixed on him. "Really?" Her eyes narrowed and she propped her hands on her hips. "You mean it, or are you just messing with me? You better not be messing with me, Daryl Dixon!"
But she was grinning even as she said it, and they both knew he wasn't messing even before he responded, "I ever mess with you, Greene?"
"Yeah, a little." She chuckled but she was already coming towards him, stopping only to pick up the small black backpack that was hers now, rescued from the same farmhouse where she'd also gotten her new clothes. "Where are we goin'?"
"Not to Terminus," he said gruffly and quickly. "Too soon. Last thing we want is to walk right into that damn herd again." He saw her shudder at the thought, and was quick to add, "Figured we could finish what we were doin' before, checking out the area. Only managed to get one farmhouse that first time, and you reckoned there'd be a couple more, right? Should be able to find more food and supplies, plus…"
He drifted off and looked out the window, and Beth picked up his trailing thought with a smile and a nudge of her arm against his. "Plus we can get out of here for a bit? Get some fresh air?" Then she was moving past him down the stairs with a bounce in her steps he hadn't seen in days, maybe longer. For a moment he just stood there studying her gait, pleased to see that she was barely favoring her ankle now though she still had her wrist bandaged and held close to her chest. That would take far longer to heal, but at least she could walk. At least she could run.
In a world like this, they both knew that being able to run was one of the most basic necessities for survival. Daryl knew Beth could take care of herself, but lord did he feel better knowing she could run again.
Despite their enthusiasm, Beth still hesitated as they reached the front door and slowly moved away their makeshift barricade. "Should be safe," Daryl grunted, pausing even still to peer outside the window beside it. "Checked earlier." Of course it never hurt to be extra careful, especially now.
Swinging his crossbow down from across his back and into his hands, Daryl nudged the door open and moved outside, taking slow and careful steps and peering around him as Beth followed Sighting down his bow, he swept from left to right and back again. Fields stretched around them in every direction, the long grass that had once swayed in the breeze now trampled from the herd that had come through, though it was still gilded golden by the sun above. Off to the back of the mill he thought he could just glimpse the bloodstains that marked the place he'd been forced to leave the deer, which he imagined was torn to pieces by now. But there were no walkers, so after a few moments he slowly lowered his bow and gave a nod. "Looks clear. For now."
Beth shut the door firmly behind them but then slipped past him to the side of the mill, brushing against the kudzu that clung to the walls of it as she reached behind or her backpack. "We should fill up our water bottles just in case, before we head out. I've got it."
She had it well in hand but he still trailed after her, coming to lean against the side of the Mill and watch as she dropped to her knees by the little brook and began to carefully fill the bottles from her back one at a time. As she held the open bottle in the stream of water, she tipped her head back and looked up at the sky. To his amusement, he couldn't help thinking that she looked almost like a cat; face upturned and eyes shut, drinking in the warmth of it on her skin like a cat curled in a puddle of sunlight. Minus the fur of course, and the twitching tail… but with the same hint of playfulness in her eyes a few seconds later when she glanced over at him and rose to her feet.
"Here," she remarked, tossing him one full bottle before taking a sip from hers, capping it, and slipping it back into her bag. As she slung the backpack over her shoulders she took a moment to look around them and then picked a direction, heading off firmly in the opposite direction from where the fire and smoke had marred the sky for days. It was gone now, but that didn't matter; that location was firmly etched in both of their minds. It hung there, distant but heavy, a never-fading reminder of what they might eventually have to face.
But that was eventually, and this was now. Separate, for the time being at least. That lightness was in Beth's step still as she walked. He could see her gaze sweeping from side to side and studying the treelines, but despite her alertness there was a looseness to her movements, a sense of happiness pervading each gestures as she ran her fingers over the swaying grass, or tipped her head back towards the blue sky and breathed in deep.
And there was color in her face again; bright in her eyes and flushing her cheeks… as if she'd begun to wilt, trapped inside that dimly lit mill and now she was like a plant or a flower, getting a glimpse of the sun and blooming all over again. He hadn't even realized how being trapped inside had affected her until he saw her like this, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was the same for him. Of course, he wasn't no pretty flower sort like her, bloomin' or nothing like that… but it did feel good, being outside again.
"What do you think we'll find?" Beth asked, glancing over her shoulder at him in a movement that caused the thin braid wound through her ponytail to sway temptingly.
"A house," he grunted shortly, resisting the urge for now to reach out and tug at her braid like some school kid pestering a girl he liked. He wasn't being gruff, and she knew it. She could read his tones well by now, and he knew from the light in her eyes and the tug at the corners of her lips that she took it as the teasing it was intended to be.
"Yeah? Hm." She turned back ahead, but not before he saw that hint of a smile widen slightly. "Cause I was hoping for another barn maybe. You know I really do like barns, these days. Just something about them…"
Well that was weird. What did she like about barns? There weren't animals in them anymore, or anything special. Or maybe it was something else. Because when he thought about barns, he thought of… warm air and the scent of hay and the feeling of her lips pressed against his and- wait.
Was she flirting with him? He didn't think anyone had ever flirted with him, leastways not like that. Not all sweet and playful and innocently coy. No, all he'd ever had was half-drunken slurred words, girls with bleached hair and too much makeup running their hand up his thigh and whispering something in his ear that usually made him shudder a bit and push them away, push them back towards Merle who'd relish the way they hung all over him.
It had always been too much for him. This was too much for him, but not in the same way. This was too much because… because he liked it and fuck if he knew what to do with that, what to say. Except to grunt, and try to tease her right back, anyway. "Someone's frisky today" She glanced quickly back at him, and he was gratified to see the flush on her cheeks. Maybe he wasn't the only one flustered by all this.
Oddly, knowing that made it feel easier to handle.
"It's the sun," she said after a moment, and this time when she looked over her shoulder at him it was with another sweet smile that lit up her whole face and made him feel a tug at the corners of his own lips in return. Especially when she stretched her arms out and began to softly sing, "Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces. Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here…"
To his surrpise, the song was familiar. His eyebrow raised as he watched her, riveted to the sight of her ahead of him as he remarked,"Hey, I know that one…"
Beth spun around, walking backwards for a moment through the grass, eyes on him as she crooned, "Here comes the sun, here comes the sun and I say... it's all right."
"Beatles," he said with a little nod, surprised and pleased that she was singing something he actually knew for once. Her voice was sweet as always. He could have listened to it for hours, to be honest. But as he came up beside her, he nudged her arm with his and said in a playfully gruff voice, "C'mon, keep your eyes ahead, Greene."
"Yessir, Mr. Dixon sir." She giggled with amusement, ruining any chance of him taking her seriously, though frankly he'd been able to tell she was playing before she'd laughed.
"You really are frisky today," he remarked again, trying to keep his gaze ahead despite how it kept straying to her. He couldn't seem to help it, not when she was all lit up by both the sun and her own good mood, pretty much shining from within just as much as the sun was shining on her.
"Are you complaining, Mr. Dixon?" The coy little smile she gave him had him chuckling even as she shifted just enough to have their arms brushing together.
Goddamn, she really was flirting with him, wasn't she? Well it wasn't like he hadn't had all sorts of new experiences with Beth before. Seemed to be her specialty; that, and making him feel all sorts of shit he weren't used to.
With a low hum, he finally replied, "Nah, guess it ain't bad."
Who was he kidding, though? Truth was he ain't never enjoyed bein' flirted with as much as he was enjoying this right now with Beth.
The field turned to woods, a familiar sort of terrain for the two of them to navigate in. Both of their steps were practically silent, though Beth still moved with that same lightness that hinted at her delight in being outside. Not that it made her any less observant or focused, of course.
In fact, she was the one that spotted the first glimpse of something through the trees up ahead, causing him to shift their direction and lead them towards it slowly but surely, taking care to be extra silent as they reached the line of the trees and stared out at another big stretch of fields.
At first he didn't notice much, beyond the fences that he assumed were pastures for some kind of animals, and the white farmhouse; bigger than the last one they'd visited, at least it seemed to be from here. But then beside him, Beth let out a gasp.
"What?" Worried, he turned to her, but there was a grin on her lips as she pointed to the left of the farmhouse.
"Look! See all those trees over there?"
Once he wasn't worried that it was walkers or worse, Daryl fixed his gaze past the edge of the farmhouse, to where rows and rows of small trees stretched out in the distance. "Yeah?"
"I think those are pecan trees, Daryl. Pecans!" She looked so excited he was surprised she wasn't bouncing in place. She was practically vibrating with it, and he couldn't seem to help giving a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest at her enthusiasm.
Then again it wasn't like he could really laugh at her, considering how pleased he'd gotten over the beechnuts he'd found when they'd first gotten to the mill. He'd been just about as excited as she was, come to think of it. Although maybe not quite so giddy.
"C'mon," he remarked with a hint of a smirk, nudging her towards the farmhouse in the distance. "We'll check the place first, make sure it's safe, comb through it. Then we can get us some pecans after, alright?"
"Yes, Mr. Dixon." Her cheeky little smile earned her a grunt in response, but even he could feel the tug of a tiny smile at the corners of his lips as he lead the way down through the field to the farmhouse. The closer they got, the more intently his gaze focused on it. Like the other it looked to be in pretty good shape, though the white paint was peeling and the roof seemed to sag a bit in one spot. Ivy grew over one wall of the house, creeping it's way across the overhang above the wide front steps that were once painted a light blue but now were cracked and faded.
The downstairs windows were all boarded up, which made him think that perhaps the owners had tried to make some sort of stand here, at least for some length of time. But there were signs that no one was in residence anymore. A broken window on the top floor, a loose board on one of the downstairs windows, and of course the pecan trees off to the left, their output both heavy on their branches and scattered across the ground beneath them as well.
As they neared the front, Daryl slowed to a stop. "See anything?"
A simple question, but he didn't have to say much more than that. Beth immediately began to peer around them, studying the matted down and yellowed grass in front of the abandoned home until her eyes narrowed. "Something went through here. Not a herd, but maybe a good-sized group?" She traced her eyes from left to right, parallel to the house. "Crossed in front of it anyway, but didn't go in. Maybe they were heading towards the sound of that explosion, too?"
"Mm. Or it might've been before that, hard to tell. Good eye, though." He meant it, which was why he said it… though of course the pleased smile was an added benefit. "C'mon," he remarked, crossing the worn path in the grass to lead the way up to the creaking steps. "Let's give this place a look through.."
In the end, the house seemed to somewhat tell it's own story. It had clearly been fortified and lived in, for some time anyway; the door had been boarded shut from the inside, and he'd ended up having to pull the loose boards off one of the windows to get them both in through there. In the kitchen they found a small stash of canned food that they quickly packed into their bags to take with them. Two cans sat open on the kitchen table; one with a fork still in it, the other tipped over so that it's contents (beans, he'd declared after a moment of inspection) had spilled across the table where they remained now, rotten and crusted. Someone had been in the middle of the meal when something had interrupted them, and it only took a loop through the house to figure out what it had been.
There was a walker in the hallway upstairs; an older man dressed in blue jeans and a torn flannel shirt, with a yellowed, stained bandage wrapped around his left arm. After Daryl put him down with a quick bolt, they found his bloodied handprints marking the doorway at the end of the hall. Seeing the look of dread on Beth's face, it was Daryl who had pushed the door open to reveal the thankfully empty room beyond and the window propped open looking out onto the pecan trees, curtain flapping in the breeze.
"They got out," Beth murmured as she crossed to the window. After a second she turned, picking up a photo that sat on the desk next to the window. In it was an older man his arms around two smiling younger girls. The man's resemblance to the walker out in the hallway was instantly recognizable, just as the girl's resemblance to each other was. Sisters, then, and their Dad. "They must have been holed up here," Beth murmured, staring down at the picture still. "The three of them. Only he got bitten. Maybe they didn't know what it means, maybe they thought they could help him… or maybe he didn't tell him. But he turned and they had to run. They must not've been able to fight him, or maybe they weren't willing to, so they fled. Right out that window. Together, though... I bet they ran together."
He'd have known what she was thinking even without the thickness in her voice, would've known the connections her mind was making right now even if he couldn't see how it was affecting her. She was thinking about her Dad, maybe, wondering if she'd have had the guts to end his life if he'd turned. Probably it wasn't the first time she'd considered that, given how close he'd come back at the prison before he'd fallen to a blade instead of a bite. But she was also thinking about her sister, too, he reckoned. Thinking about how Maggie had given up on her, left her behind, but these two sisters had clung to each other even in the worst of times.
Maybe she was thinking about it a little too hard, judging by the tightness in her shoulders and the darkness in her eyes. Clearing his throat, Daryl came up behind her. One hand came up with only a tiny hesitation to rest over her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze, while the other reached out to take the frame from her hand and set it back down on the desk. "C'mon," he remarked softly, waiting until she'd looked up into his eyes to go on, "Saw a bunch of bookcases downstairs. Let you have first pick, if you want…"
"Yeah?" She watched him quietly for a moment, neither of them looking away from the other. He held her gaze, intent on saying with his eyes what he couldn't with his words; maybe not it'll be okay (because he couldn't promise that) but without a doubt something like I'm right here and you're not alone. And maybe she saw it. Maybe she could read in his eyes all the things reverberated within him, the things that throbbed within his heart and rose up, right to the tip of his tongue but never any further. Maybe she could still hear them in her own way, because after a moment he saw the corner of her lips quirk up as she gave a little nod. "Okay. But you know this means you can't complain if I find some sort of cheesy historical romance I want to read, right?"
All he could do was groan, as he followed after her. Just like he groaned a few minutes later when she delightedly pulled out some thick paperback with a pastel pink binding, and a cover featuring some woman in a fancy old dress with a long-haired, big-chested man standing behind her, both their hair blowing in the wind. "Oooh, this one looks good!" Looking up and catching sight of him grumbling over it, Beth just crinkled up her nose and giggled. "Hey I'm getting it, okay? You told me I could have first pick, now you're stuck with it."
Eyes on him, she slipped it into her bag decisively, but after a moment she added, "But I promise, I'll only get one. C'mon, you pick a couple. I always like the ones you pick out." Beth eyed him speculatively for a few seconds, a sort of knowing look in her eyes before she gave a nod. "You should check the ones with the darker colored spines. My bet is, the mystery and crime books and stuff will be like that. It's weird how they color-code books, isn't it?"
He would have said it was weird that she knew exactly what books he'd be interested it, but of course it wasn't. Not now, not since reading had been the one thing keeping them occupied in their time shut up in the mill. A week or so ago he would have just grunted at the offer to read. It would have made his stomach churn with memories of school and failed classes, of being called on by the teacher to read out loud and having the kids in class tease him for stumbling over words or saying things wrong. But not with Beth. It was never like that with her. Mostly she read out loud for them both and he got to enjoy her pretty voice; but sometimes he read out loud instead, and when he did she never corrected him or butted in. She just let him go at his own pace and he was surprised to find it was a hell of a lot easier when he didn't have kids tossing paper balls at his head and laughing at him in front of everyone.
As he skimmed the spines of the books he found himself looking forward to going back to the mill. Even as much as he'd wanted to get out of there, to get some air, now he was fixated on the thought of being back in front of that little stove with Beth tucked up beside him and a book open in one of their hands. Maybe this time he'd do a little more. Maybe he'd wrap his arm around her while she read… it was an appealing mental image, one that had him unexpectedly distracted until a movement from the corner of his eye had him pulling his gaze away from the books to watch her.
She had roamed away from the bookshelves and was standing by a small closet that she'd pulled open. "I thought maybe they'd have some thick blankets in here or something, and I was right! But I can't-" As he watched, she leaned up on her toes and stretched, with a squeak of frustration, "-reach… it…."
He acted without thinking. The bookcase forgotten, Daryl came up behind her, curled his hands around her waist, and lifted her up. She was in the air before he even realized what he was doing but he didn't falter, not with the precious burden he had in his hands. "Go on then." His voice was low, gruffer than before… maybe because he was so acutely aware of the warmth of her body and the fact that one of his fingers had accidentally slipped under her shirt and he could just feel the warmth of a sliver of skin beneath his touch. "Grab it."
Above him Daryl could hear Beth's breathing hitch for a moment before she reached out and grasped the thick quilt that sat on the top shelf of the closet. "Okay…" At her words he brought her down to her feet gently, only letting go once her feet were safely on the ground, and frankly still reluctantly at that, because lord but he hadn't really wanted to lose the warmth of her beneath his hands.
She turned to face him and he didn't pull back. For some damn reason his heart was pounding a bit more than normal, clanging away in his chest like a galloping horse, and he almost wondered if she could hear it. But off course she couldn't, even if it was echoing in his ears. Just like he couldn't hear hers though for a moment he was tempted. He wanted to know if her heart was racing like his was, if he'd be able to hear it if he got close or feel it if he pressed his hand just above her chest, and oh… that was not sort of thing he should have been thinking. Not at all, but especially not when she was so close to him, looking up at him with those eyes, big and blue as cornflowers and filled with the same sort of warmth he thought he felt inside himself, too.
There it was again. That sensation of being on the precipice and not knowing what to do. he thing was, it wasn't that he had no ideas. It was that he had too many. Like his brain was the racetrack at Nascar and fifty cars were driving around it all at once, but instead of the growls of engines it was whispered suggestions: Touch her, hold her, kiss her, flirt with her, watch her, say something just say something…
It was the last though, urgent and repeating again and again, that prompted him into opening his mouth and blurting out, "Good thing y' got me to help you, short stuff."
Short stuff? Fuck, he could just see Merle rolling his eyes, could just hear his brother's voice drawling with a smirk: Shit, ain't I ever taught you how to talk to a woman, Darylina?
Sure you did, Daryl thought back, firmly grasping that voice and shoving it into the recesses of his mind, but it weren't the way you were supposed to talk to a girl like Beth.
Granted, his method wasn't much better but at least he wasn't offending her. In fact she was giggling, and he was pretty sure that there was a hint of a flush to her cheeks as she stood there in front of him, barely any space between them except for the blanket she was holding folded to her chest. "Short stuff? I'm not sure that nickname will stick, Mr. Dixon." She brushed past him and god, she had to be doing that on purpose, going so slowly that her side slid against his as she slipped past. Pausing to look over her shoulder, she waited until his eyes met his before she added in a softer voice, "But I am glad I have you to help me."
Okay yeah. She was definitely flirting.
Now if only he could figure out what the hell he was supposed to do about that.
He was still wondering when they finished checking the house for supplies and headed out the back door to the rows of pecan trees. They'd grabbed a few books from inside the house, but not everything they got was for pleasure. There was the blanket that was now strapped to Beth's backpack, the canned food from the kitchen, and a couple sweaters; one for him and two for her. It'd be getting cold sooner than not, and he knew they'd need them. She'd found a pair of jeans that fit her, too, in one of the girl's rooms, and rolled it up to stick down into her bag.
"You know, deer love pecans," Beth mused as they moved carefully down the back steps and towards the nearest tree.
"Mm," he agreed with a nod, splitting his mind from the question of what to do about her flirting in order to focus on the topic at hand. "Might be a good place to come back to, maybe camp out for a day see if we can't catch somethin'. If we're heading out, it'd be good t' have a nice supply of venison jerky."
"Yeah…" She neared the first line of trees and flashed him a grin over her shoulder. "Plus maybe this time you can get one without having to face down a herd of walkers to bring it back, hm?"
"You shush," Daryl shot back, hiding his smirk by looking down at the canvas bag in his hand that they'd taken from the farmhouse kitchen.
"Yessir, Mr. Dixon sir." His head might have been down, but he could hear the smirk in her voice again this time, without a doubt.
Though he made sure to keep an eye out on their surroundings (it wouldn't do to have a walker creep up on them through the rows of trees) soon he was focused on bending over to pick up whatever ripe pecans had fallen to the ground and not yet been eaten. Well, mostly focused… 'cause he couldn't help but also be aware of Beth just a few feet away, her long blonde hair falling into her eyes as she bent down to examine the ground.. She had the handle of the bag looped around her injured arm but higher up, past her makeshift cast, and she was using her good hand to brush through the husks on the ground and scoop up any pecans she could find.
Wasn't now the perfect sort of time to say something? When it was quiet and peaceful like this? Course it would help if he knew what to say. It wasn't a question of if he wanted to. Crazy as it was, he did. He wanted to find some damn way to flirt back at her, or if not flirt than at least say something nice… something that would let her know he didn't mind the way she had been flirting with him, didn't mind when she was teasing and playful, and definitely didn't mind when she kissed him.
The problem was, he was Daryl Dixon. He wasn't the kinda guy that even got flirted with, let alone knew what to say back. At least not to a girl like her.
Once in elementary school Merle (who was somethin' near 15 or 16 at the time) had gotten wind of his crush on a girl named Ruby. Merle's advice had been to pull on her braids, something about how that was how girl's knew you liked them, when you teased 'em and messed with 'em or something. The thing was, he couldn't do it. Cause every time he thought about tugging on Ruby's braids, he'd thought of his Dad yanking his Mama's hair and dragging her into the bedroom, and how he'd find her in there crying and trying to cover up her bruises, and if that was telling a girl you liked her then he didn't think he wanted anything to do with it.
Besides, Ruby had been one of those perfect girls; the sweet, clean, nicely dressed ones that ain't never looked at him even sideways. Like Beth, but not. Cause she looked at him, all the time. Looked at him like she saw him, looked at him like she wanted to see him. Hell, like she wanted to do more than just see him.
She was looking at him now, tilting her head to peer up at him through the fringe of her hair, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she studied him for a moment and then looked away. What if he went up to her right now? What if instead of tugging on her braid, though, he did something else instead, like… like running his fingers through those silky blonde strands, tucking them behind her ear so the pads of his fingers could graze the soft apple of her cheek and…
"Well I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia pine, and that's home you know," Her sweet voice broke into both the natural silence as well as her thoughts. Sweet and breathy she crooned the tune, her southern twang coming out stronger as she turned to flash him a smile, "Sweet tea, pecan pie, and homemade wine, where the peaches grow…" She stood up, dropping one last pecan in her bag as her eyes stayed steady not on the farmhouse in the distance but him as she sang on, "And my house it's not much to talk about, but it's filled with love that's grown in southern ground."
The way she looked at him when she sang that… it put him right on the precipice again, right on the edge of that track standing in the center as a hundred thoughts and suggestions went racing around him. Home. He didn't have a house but he had a sense of home and it was standing right there in front of him, right now.
"And a little bit of chicken fried, cold beer on a Friday night…" He set down his bag slowly and took a step towards her and then another, growing in confidence as he went. "-A pair of jeans that fit just right, and the radio up... He was just inches away from her now but though she slowed she didn't stop singing, just crooning in that sweet soft voice of hers, "I love to see the sunrise, see the love in my woman's eyes…"
This time as she trailed off, there was just one track in his mind. One thought, one idea, one plan. Clarity, at last. So before he could lose that clear sense of rightness, Daryl leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. His hand came up to cup her cheek just as he'd imagined, fingers lightly brushing over the soft curve of it as he tilted her head up towards him, letting the kiss linger.
It was soft and slow, nothing too deep or hungry. But it was him kissing her for the first time; and if it was the heat of the moment than it was a slow, quiet sort of heat this time . A simmering heat rather than a fast boil, nothing that could be excused away by an emotional moment.
And it was his. His choice, his clear understanding that this was exactly what he wanted to do and that he could do it.
Even still there was a hint of hesitancy as he pulled back to look down at her pretty face, to watch her eyes flutter slowly open again. If he dreaded seeing doubt or annoyance in her eyes, that dread was gone as quick as it came, 'cause there was nothing but happiness in her eyes and her smile as she looked up at him.
They stood there for a few seconds just drinking each other in, until Beth broke the silence with a soft giggle and teased, "You should try one of these pecans."
"What?" Frankly his head was still spinning from kissing her- him, kissing Beth Greene- and it took him a minute to figure out what she was saying.
"Come on!" She exclaimed, just as bright and playful as she had been earlier, albeit with a new warmth in her eyes and lingering on her cheeks. "Come on, try one. Try, Daryl, c'mon!"
When she raised one of them to his mouth and pressed it to his lips, he couldn't say no. Didn't have any desire to, really. But it did occur to him as he parted his lips and let her slip the pecan inside, felt the tips of her fingers just lightly graze his tongue… that maybe they were alright, figuring this out together. Maybe he didn't need Merle's advice, maybe he didn't need to know 'how' to flirt.
Maybe he could just have this, with her. Simple, happy moments like this, doin' whatever felt right.
The way she giggled as he chewed on the pecan with an appreciative hum told him he might just be on the right track with that line of thought.
The first song Beth sings is "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles, the second is "Chicken Fried" by the Zac Brown Band. Beth has eclectic tastes, obviously! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I will do my best as I said to update soon.