Original Prompt: From my good friend Abelina (/u/612230/Abelina), who requested "plans with friends that got canceled because of a thunder storm".
When the series of slow moving, powerful thunderstorms came rolling through, bringing with them sporadic hail, intensely loud cracks of thunder, and buffeting winds more than capable of knocking down power lines, they knew there was no way they were leaving their apartment. Despite her faint smile when she glanced over at the window, Beth had the grace to at least sound disappointed as she called her sister and cancelled their plans for the night.
It wasn't that she and Daryl hadn't wanted to have dinner with Maggie and her boyfriend Glenn. Beth loved her sister and always had, in spite of Maggie's tendency to vacillate between overly-protective-older-sister and selfishly-self-focused-brat, and they both loved Glenn, who was funny and kind-hearted, providing just the balance for her sister's somewhat sharp edges. They happily spent time with them at least once a month, often more if everyone's schedules could accommodate it, and generally enjoyed it.
Yet still, when she hung up the cell phone after cancelling on her sister, there was still a smile on her lips, and it was mirrored by a hint of one tugging at the corners of Daryl's own. His of course only widened when he caught sight of hers, and the little chuckle that rumbled through his chest had her shooting him a look as she asked, "What?"
"Nothin'," he replied with a smirk as he came up behind her where she stood in their small living room. As his arms twined around her slender waist, he leaned in to rest his cheek against her temple and went on in his usual gruff voice, "Just reckon Maggie wouldn't be so acceptin' of our excuse if she could see th' smile on your face right now."
"Hey, it wasn't like I was lying!" Leaning back in his arms, her back fitted perfectly against his broad chest, she turned her head to nod towards the window by the table, with the shelf of plants built up at the base of it. Through the rain-coated glass, dark clouds filled the sky in their view of the city beyond, lighting flashing in the distance as the next in the line of thunderstorms made its way closer.
"Yeah, but y' managed to sound so disappointed when y' told her, and here y' are, smilin' fit to burst…" His voice was rough with barely contained amusement, and Beth found herself smiling as she felt the scruff of his beard brushing against the curve of her neck.
"Well… I am, but... I'm also not at the same time." She didn't explain, but his hum of agreement and the gentle tightening of his arms around her waist made her inclined to think she didn't need to. Daryl understood. He pretty much always did, when it came to her, especially because in a lot of things they were similarly inclined. For example there were times, especially after long and busy weeks, where the two of them liked to just curl up together at the end of the day and relax, passing the time by watching a movie, or reading a book, or even just talking.
Tonight was one of those nights, and though they had been willing to forgo it for familial obligations, both of them seemed visibly relieved that the line of summer storms had provided exactly the excuse they'd needed. Not only an excuse really, but a perfect atmosphere, too. Unlike some people who were apathetic towards storms at best and terrified of them at worst, Beth and Daryl both seemed to enjoy a good thunderstorm.
For Beth, they reminded her of nights spent in the farmhouse, curled in the window of her childhood bedroom, reading a book in between peering out the wavering glass to the fields beyond, where the roiling stormclouds held court in the sky, creating gorgeous art in their flares of jagged lightning, and making her shiver at the power in their cracks of thunder.
For Daryl the memories were of a tiny trailer vibrating beneath the storm above, a flimsy shelter that made the whole thing seem even more thrilling, made riding it out as a young child seem like a dangerous adventure. When he was older that adventure had come in bike rides right through the middle of the storm, the rumble of his bike beneath his thighs competing with the thunder above for which could vibrate through him with the most intensity.
Now they made new memories when it stormed. Together they'd curl up on the couch by the window, watching the flashes of lightning and the way the rain ran in rivulets down the window glass. Without power, they made due with the lights of the candles like the ones Beth had lit tonight. They dotted the kitchen and the living room both, lending their flickering warmth to the small space in a way Beth thought was rather nice and romantic. With the atmosphere set, they'd maybe cuddle up with a warm blanket, and spend time with just the two of them...
Suddenly, a crack of thunder rumbled so loud overheard that the walls shook a bit, and in the wake of its passing, a tiny black shape went bolting across the floor in front of their feet, causing Beth to instantly amend her previous thought. They'd spend time with just the two of them, and Scrap. Poor little Scrap, who absolutely hated thunderstorms, and was currently showing it by huddling underneath the lowest shelf of his cat tower.
Daryl had built the large structure by hand, determined that he could make something that was a better fit for their tiny apartment (tall, rather than wide) and far less costly. Grumbling but intent on making something 'good enough for our Scrap' (as he'd said to Beth) Daryl had even gone off to the pet store, studying what the best of the models had so that he could make something just as good, or better. The result was a tall, narrow tower that fit perfect beside their couch in front of the window, with three flat, fabric-covered platforms, polls covered in neatly wrapped twine for climbing (especially since Scrap was still too small to jump), a scratch post, a little closed level with a single hole that the kitten could climb into, and numerous jingly, feathery toys.
Normally the tiny black kitten could be found climbing all over it, dragging himself up the twine-wrapped columns by his claws, batting at the toy Daryl had attached on a spring to one level, or laying in a circle of dark fur at the top to sleep. But now he was huddled under the shelf, his eyes big and dark and his little body quivering. Beth instantly broke away from Daryl with a coo of, "Awww, little baby! We didn't forget about you, poor thing. I know you hate the thunder. C'mere, Scrap…"
There were two places Scrap liked to be when a thunderstorm hit. The first was wedged at the bottom of his tower, of course, where he could push his way back until his little rump hit the wall. But the second and far more preferred method, was with Beth or Daryl. Or more specifically, nestled inside one of their shirts. Which was exactly where Beth placed him now, coaxing him gently out and scooping him up, keeping him in the air only a moment before she pulled out the collar of her shirt and tucked the kitten inside.
As she cradled him against her chest with both hands holding him through the fabric, Beth turned to glance at Daryl, who was eyeing her with a knowing smirk. "What?"
"Pretty soon he's gonna be too big for that," was Daryl's only remark as he moved towards the couch. "You might regret that when he's a big cat tryin' t' burrow under your shirt…"
Despite his mock scolding, Daryl sat down with firm intent, turning to press his back to the arm of the couch and spreading his legs a bit, just the right amount for Beth to sit between them and lean back against his solid frame. As her back settled against his chest, Daryl's hands slipped casually around, one settling against her tummy and the other coming up to pet Scrap through Beth's shirt. He was curled up tightly beneath it now, nestled against her chest, his trembling slowly easing as both his parents cuddled him in his safe place.
"I won't regret it," Beth said after a moment, smiling down at the tuft of fur visible through the opening of her shirt. "He's my little nugget, I'll never mind. Plus, Daddy says he's probably not going to get too big, anyway. He's our little Scrap! Our perfect little tiny apartment cat."
"Mmm." Daryl's nose rested against the back of her neck, his hum stirring the little hairs there and making her shiver, even as he tilted his head to brush his lips over her skin and tease, "Plus, can't help but reckon he's got good taste. I mean, hidin' under your shirt and all… I can see th' appeal."
"Daryl!"
"What? I'm just sayin', it ain't the worst place to hide at all…" There was a hint of mischief in his tone, accented by the slide of his hand down over her stomach to slip under the hem of her shirt. Slowly but surely it brushed up, until she could feel the graze of his fingers against the underside of her breasts, covered by the thin cotton of her bra.
"Hey there, Mr. Dixon." Her voice was a bit lower and huskier, the attempt at scolding tinged with an amusement that gave away her playfulness as she went on, "That's Scrap's hiding place…"
"I ain't gonna disrupt him," Daryl murmured in response as the pads of his fingers gently but casually stroked the bottom curve of her breast. Against her back, she could feel his low voice rumbling through his chest as he went on, "Maybe my hand is afraid of thunder, too."
"Oh, well in that case, I suppose I'll just have to take care of your hand, too…" Her giggles mingled in the air with a crash of thunder, but as the rumbles subsided Beth just leaned back against him, perfectly content. How could she not be? With Daryl holding her from behind and touching her so playfully and casually, Scrap cuddled up close, and their little apartment lit by the flicker of candlelight, as the pitter-patter of raindrops on the window filled the air… it was a perfect, quiet night. She might have had the grace to sound disappointed on the phone with Maggie, but the truth was that right now, there was nowhere else Beth would rather be.
(Except maybe, in time, the bedroom; especially if Daryl's hands continued to seek out solace from under her shirt. But for now at least, she was perfectly content right where she was, curled up on the couch with her two favorites guys.)
And as of this update, we're all caught up with my posts on tumblr, so I can theoretically cross-post whenever I write something new. That is assuming I write something new, because my writer's block is absolutely crippling at the moment.