They had been on the move for days in a row without really stopping, except for a few hours of sleep outside on the hard ground. The last two days it had been raining, and Daryl knew they had to find someplace better. He might have been able to weather little sleep and endless rain and the bare-minimum when it came to food (and pretty much everything), but it wasn't fair to Beth.

It wasn't that he thought she was too weak for it, cause she definitely wasn't. In fact she hadn't complained once at all and she hadn't stopped moving either; just trudging after him determinedly even as the rain continued to come down until everything they both owned was soaked and muddy. No, it wasn't that she was complaining or he thought she couldn't handle it; it was that he couldn't handle seeing her like that anymore. She deserved better, and since he had long since decided it was his job to take care of her, it was his job to give her better.

Following his instincts had led them into sight of a snug little wooden cabin. It was nicer than the hunter's cabins he was used to, Daryl could tell that at first glance. There was a neat little driveway leading up to it, and flowers in front that had gone wild without anyone to tend to them. Maybe it had been some couple's little retreat in the forest, back before things had gone bad.

Whatever it had been, he'd taken one look at it and known it was perfect for Beth. It was the kinda place she deserved, at least for a night, or a few days. (Much as he liked the sight of it, he knew they probably couldn't stay for long. They couldn't stay anywhere for long.)

By now, they could clear out any building without even needing to speak instructions to each other. He'd only had to really show her the routine once before she caught on. One of the things he'd learned about Beth in their time together was that she was a quick learner. She remembered almost everything. Together they came up the steps to the little cabin, and reached the doors. Daryl shaded his hand to peer in the window, seeing only dim shapes beyond. With a nod to Beth, he signaled to the doors and stepped back, raising his bow. Beth moved in front of him and knocked on the door with the base of her knife; once, twice, and then she paused.

There was only silence beyond, and at his nod she knocked one more time and then pulled the door open, quickly slipping behind it and leaving him standing there with his bow at the ready. When nothing came out, he signaled to her,and together they stepped slowly inside. It was a small cabin, small enough that he could take in most of it at a quick glance, especially because the whole bottom floor was one open space; a snug little kitchen, an eating area, and a little living room area with a worn couch, a small wood stove, and a half-sized bookcase full of books. Daryl swept the room in one easy movement before coming to a pause at the bottom of the staircase.

His gaze flicked to Beth to signal upwards, but the sight of her brought him pause. She still had the knife up and at the ready, but she was looking around the place with this expression on her face that he couldn't quite describe. It was the same way he'd seen her look at a flower, or a butterfly, but also the same way she looked at him sometimes when he did something sorta nice, like when he gave her that knife or when he said she could maybe convince him to make a snow angel if it snowed. It was the way she'd looked when he'd found that shed full of moonshine and told her what it was. It was the way she'd looked a few nights ago, when he'd told her not to stop singing that Christmas song under the stars.

It was like she was happy. Like she was seeing the beauty in something. Or so he guessed, because he didn't think he'd ever looked at anything the way she did. (He didn't know that sometimes, he looked at her like that, only in quick little bursts like he might get caught.) Whenever he saw that look on her face, it always made him reexamine whatever she was looking at, as if he could see the beauty in whatever it was, too. He did it now, peering around carefully, trying to pinpoint what it was that she saw, but it just looked like a cabin to him. Cozy and neat, but still just a cabin. Maybe he just wasn't designed to see things the way she was. Maybe a dirty redneck like him with a broken past just couldn't see things that way.

(For just a moment his gaze landed on her, turning around with that expression on her face, and he thought if anything looked nice right now, it was Beth, all pure and bright even when she was covered in mud and soaked clothes. Something like that look was in his eyes again, but he didn't even know it.)

He cleared his throat to get her attention (and to push those thoughts away) and nodded up the stairs. "C'mon. Prob'ly a bedroom up here." Daryl moved swiftly and silently up the stairs, nudging open the door and stepping quickly inside to see that he had been right. The second floor contained a small bedroom with a little full-sized bed tucked against one wall, under a big window. There was a small dresser and one door beside it, cracked open to reveal a small bathroom.

With his bow still lifted, Daryl moved to clear the bathroom, even sweeping open the shower curtain and checking behind the small closet door to make sure no walkers lurked inside. For once, they'd gotten lucky. Not a single walker in sight; the place was clear.

And then he heard a squeal from the bedroom outside.

He burst through the door without hesitation, crossbow raised, ready to sight on whatever had scared Beth and make sure it didn't get a damn chance to touch her… but all he saw was Beth on the floor by the dresser, her legs stretched out in front of her and the widest grin he'd ever seen on her face.

"Daryl!" She exclaimed his name brightly (it sounded so bright, from her lips) but the excitement on her face turned briefly to confusion when she saw him standing there all tense with his fingers itching to press the trigger.

"The hell you screaming for, girl?" Daryl growled out the words as he lowered the bow to the ground. He couldn't help the bite in voice. His heart was still racing from the fear that she'd been under attack, and it was better to be gruff with her than focus on how much it terrified him to think about her being hurt. Daryl wasn't used to worrying about someone else the way he did her.

But she just looked up at him, all bright blue eyes and sweet smiles (somehow looking clean and pure even with her hair soaking wet and dirty)and she squealed again, "Stockings!"

"What?" He blinked down at her in confusion. It was only then that he noticed she had the bottom drawer of the dresser open, and as he watched she pulled out a pair of those long knee socks, stockings he guessed, red and green striped like the ones you saw people wear sometimes around Christmas.

"Oh just look at them! They're so warm and clean and cute, and oh lord, I haven't had clean socks in weeks, Daryl!"

He knew he'd never seen anyone go into raptures over a pair of stockings before, but then, he'd also never seen anyone like Beth Greene. Cause there she was, sprawled out on the middle of the floor, pulling off her boots and tearing off her dirty, wet, muddy socks to toss them aside like she'd never been so happy to get something off her before. All he could do was watch in baffled amazement as she slid the first thick colorful stocking onto her foot, and… And lord, did she have to react like that? Her head was tipped back and her eyes shut and he was pretty sure if she was a cat, she'd have been purring.

(He already knew that if Beth was a cat, she'd be the prettiest little blonde cat ever, with big blue eyes and the sweetest disposition. The kind that followed you around and was always ready to curl up in your lap, but was also just about the best mouse catcher around. Not that he'd thought about that before, or anything.)

Just when the look on her face started to make him almost uncomfortable, she just looked up at him and laughed. She pulled the other stocking up onto her foot and fell back onto the floor, stretching her legs up into the air and wiggling her toes and just laughed and laughed and laughed, until he almost felt like laughing too.

"Ain't never seen no one get so excited about socks before," Daryl says, his voice rough even though he felt a faint tug at the corner of his lips.

"Cause you ain't never seen anyone try socks like these!" Beth exclaimed, teasing him back with a surprisingly good mimicry of his speech pattern. As he watched, she reached into the drawer and pulled out a pair of men's socks, bright red but thick and warm and clean. "Your turn."

He frowned. "M'fine."

"Nope. Not taking that for an answer." She pointed down at the ground. "Now you get right over here, Mr. Dixon, take off those boots, and change your socks." Beth flashed him a playful grin. "Don't make me wrestle those boots off you!"

He snorted. "Like you could."

"I'd try!" Beth laughed. "Just watch me."

He knew she would. But he was already moving to sit down next to her and take off his boots, and he knew why he was doing that, too. Because it was Beth, and because this would make her happy, and he would do near about anything to see that look on her face again. Especially when she was giving that look right at him.