"I've never… had some cheesy sleepover."

That was how it had started. Just a one-off line in the midst of some silly game Beth had insisted on playing one night when they were relaxing on the couch in their new apartment. (His vote had been strip poker, frankly, although even her way they'd ended up with their clothes off by the end of the night, curled around each other in bed with their legs tangled and his arm wrapped possessively around her waist.)

Half the night had been a blur to him the next morning, but not Beth. It was like the girl never forgot a damn thing. Just woke up the next day and had it right in the forefront of her mind, eyes bright over the rim of her coffee cup as she smiled at him from across the tiny table in their little apartment and asked, "You've really never had a sleepover before?"

And when he'd shrugged, said even if guys had sleepovers like that he weren't never the type to have one. He didn't have to say more cause she knew; he'd not been the type to have friends, let alone the sort of home you could bring them back to. She knew cause Beth understood him, cause he'd told her things he ain't never told anyone else before… and she just understood.

So instead of questioning him she just smiled even wider and fuck if he didn't know that smile, fuck if he couldn't name it her 'Beth has a plan' smile even before she leaned over and whispered, "Well I think we need to do something about that."

Which was how tonight had happened. How he'd ended up in the bedroom changing into flannel pants and a comfy t-shirt, despite the fact that he never really slept in 'pajamas' with her. Most nights ended up with the two of them falling asleep in a bare-limbed tangle, but Beth said sleepovers involved pajamas so here he was, in the closest thing he had.

Beth pulled it off far better than him. He came out of the bedroom and there she was, standing in their little living room with her hands on her hips and the proudest little expression on her face. She had on pink pajama bottoms covered in little red hearts, a matching pink tank top, and fluffy little red slippers with her hair in a braid down her back. On their tiny scuffed coffee table (bought second-hand from their favorite flea market) she'd made quite the set-up. There was a stack of movies, bowls full of chips, bags of candy, and a bottle of wine. The couch was loaded with pillows from their bed, and the spare ones they kept in the closest for when Merle crashed on their couch, and Beth had piled up some blankets there, too.

"Didn't know wine was a thing at sleepovers," Daryl remarked dryly, a smirk hovering around his lips as he circled the table and came up beside her.

She matched his smirk with a grin of her own. "It is for adult sleepovers, and they're way more fun. You'll see."

But if her teasing words made him think more heated thoughts, they didn't come to fruition just yet. Beth seemed far more intent on giving him the sort of sleepover he might have missed out on as a child… and her determination didn't surprise him. He could still remember their first Christmas together, when Beth had found out he'd never really celebrated, never got a gift from Santa. She'd eased him into it, not going overboard with decorations beyond their simple tiny tree. But there had been no denying the pleasure of waking up that morning to find a present for him under the tree marked as 'from Santa'. The first he'd ever gotten in his whole life, and it was because of her.

And now there was this. Now there was him on a couch full of pillows with Beth Greene next to him, a bowl of chips in her lap that they were both sharing as they watched a movie. Not some silly romantic comedy like he'd expected, but an action movie; something he might actually watch normally. When he'd questioned her on it, she'd just said like it was so obvious: "Well it wouldn't be a fun sleepover if we watched a movie you hated, would it?"

She was always doing stuff like that, being so casually considerate of him. There were big things, like the way she'd turned their storage space downstairs into a room for him to work on his bike. Or the little things, like how sometimes he'd come home from the garage to find she'd cooked his favorite dinner. (A favor he tried to return in his own way, though he was far from a cook so instead it involved her coming home from her job to her favorite take-out already set up on the table.) And of course, her picking out movies she knew he'd like for his first sleepover.

"So it this all there is, to sleepovers? Junk food and movies?" Daryl sipped the beer that Beth had grabbed him from the fridge (he wasn't the biggest fan of wine) and glanced over at her.

"Of course not. There's, uh… gossiping? No you wouldn't like that. When it's later we can tell ghost stories! But it's not dark enough or late enough yet, hmmm… truth or dare?" Beth glanced him up and down, a mischievous light in her eyes as she reached out with her foot to nudge his leg with her toes. "Oooh, I know. How about a… tickle fight!"

And just like that she was launching herself at him with a squeal of delight, her hands going right for his sides and her fingers slipping under his shirt to tease across his warm skin. If she had him squirming and chuckling, it was only because he let her. Sure she was stronger than she looked, but she was about half his size so once he let her get a few tickles in it was easy to turn the tables.

With a growl from him and a squeal from her he had her pinned beneath him on the couch, squirming and wiggling as he mercilessly tickled all of her sweet spots; her sides, beneath her arms, down to the back of her knees.

"Daryl! Daryyyyl!" She panted and gasped his name between squeals of laughter, arching her body up to try and push him off her to no avail.

"Say Uncle," he growled, a grin on his lips as his hands slid over her sides to torturously tease her, "Say Uncle or I ain't stoppin', girl…"

Beth bucked her hips one last time as hard as she could, but Daryl had her pinned beneath him with his knees on either side of her thighs and there was no way she was getting up. "Uncle!" She cried out, falling back with a laugh and a grin. "Uncle, Uncle, you win, okay?"

With one last skim of his fingers over her skin he pulled back to look down at her and the pretty picture she made; her blonde hair a tousled mess around her head, her eyes big and bright and her cheeks all flushed from exertion. Her prettiness was only added to by the sweet smile that curved across her lips as she teased, "So what do you want as your forfeit for winning, hm?"

"Oh…" This time the brush of his hands up her hips was decidedly slower, lingering and not teasing, gliding up over her sides to her chest as he leaned down over her and murmured in a husky, rough voice, "I bet I can think of something…"

Alright, so he was pretty sure sleepovers didn't usually involve making out on the couch with your girl until you rolled onto the floor and continued to kiss and caress in a pile of blankets and pillows. But she had said this was an adult sleepover, right?

And as far as first sleepovers went? Well as far as Daryl was concerned, it was pretty damn perfect.