They had been in the cabin for almost four days now, and so far, it was still safe. Sometimes they saw walkers outside, but most of the time they didn't get too close, and when they did Daryl took care of them. He was always prepared, always ready, always noticed the sounds of the cans clanging a second or two before she did. He was out there right now, checking their perimeter, as Beth put herself in charge of making dinner. It was something she'd done every night since they'd found this cabin, and it was beginning to be something she sort of looked forward to.
Some days, she and Daryl would go out hunting and come back with a rabbit, or some squirrels. Other days they had to make do with their small stash of canned food. Today was another rabbit day, and those were her favorites, because they were the most filling. (And because despite what Daryl liked to say, squirrel did not taste like chicken.)
Her plan had been to add some canned veggies and make a rabbit stew tonight as a surprise for him. The problem was that the cans she'd spotted of carrots and potatoes were up on the very top of the cabinets in the kitchen, and well, Beth was short. She stood beneath the cabinets hopping and jumping for several minutes, to no avail. All it accomplished was to make her feel absolutely ridiculous. Then she pulled over a chair, but as soon as she stepped on it, it began to wobble. All she could think about was what an idiot she'd be, hurting herself by falling off a freaking chair of all things, in the middle of a world full of walking dead people.
Daryl would probably have laughed at her all night. (And then, a dark voice whispered in the back of her mind, he'd have to leave her behind, cause a girl like that would be way too weak to keep up with him.)
Which left her trying to pull herself up on the counter on her knees and strain again for the cans, which were still just out of reach. She was mid-stretch, shirt riding up her back and cheeks flushed with exertion, when she heard the sound of the door opening behind her. Beth turned, eyes wide and her whole face pink with embarrassment as Daryl stood just inside the doorway and watched her.
He might not have said much, ever, but Beth was getting good at reading the expressions on his face, and she knew this one. He was amused. The corner of his mouth was just faintly turned up, and the rare sight made her feel oddly warm for just a moment before she furrowed her brow at him and tried to look fierce.
"What?"
Daryl raised an eyebrow as he came slowly closer. "The hell you tryin' to do, girl?"
Determined not to look as embarrassed as she felt, Beth tipped her chin up and then pointed to the top of the cabinets. "I was going to get those cans of potatoes and carrots down and add them to the stew." The strength in her voice softened for a moment as she admitted, "It was supposed to be a surprise, for you. But I can't reach them, and the chair was all wobbly, and I thought I might fall and hurt myself, like an idiot, and you'd have to leave me behind or something."
He surveyed her for a moment, and then said gruffly, "You ain't an idiot. Especially not for bein' smart enough to know not to risk that. C'mere."
"What?" Before she could look at him, he was giving her an answer. His hands gripped her waist, easily spanning it as he lifted her off the counter and onto the floor.
"Alright, now I'm gonna lift y' up and you're gonna get it, okay?" She looked over her shoulder at him in surprise, and saw another hint of a smile on his lips. "Just don't drop no cans on my head. Ain't worried about lifting a little midget like you, but I don't need nothin' fallin' on my head and knockin' me out."
"I'll be careful!" Beth turned to the cabinets and snorted, "And I'm not an midget!"
He lifted her up, and she was surprised to hear a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Maybe an elf, then. Sure are small as one."
Beth would have shot a come back at him, honestly, but she was trying to focus. On getting the cans, of course, not on how tightly Daryl was gripping her hips and legs, or how warm and strong his arms felt around her, or how his face was so damn close the her lower back, where her shirt had rode up to reveal a hint of her bare skin.
No, she was definitely focused on the cans above, on stretching to reach them and carefully, so she wouldn't knock them onto his head. When she grabbed both of them, Beth gave a victorious shout. "I got 'em!"
That chuckle of his rumbled through his chest again as he brought her back down, and for a moment Beth was pressed back against him with his arms around her waist. For a moment, she felt her breath hitch... and then he let go. She turned slowly to face him, a proud smile on her lips as she held up both cans.
She thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, something both warm and awkward at the same time. But then it was shuttered as he stepped back, that little quirk to his lips as he teased, "Good job, elf."
Beth's eyes narrowed at him, even as she grinned. "Hey! I'm not an elf, Mr. Dixon."
"Gonna get you some little shoes, with bells on them," Daryl remarked as he turned back to the door, picking up his crossbow and turning the lock. "Then I'll never lose ya." He paused for just a moment, his hand on the door, and then turned to look over his shoulder at her. "Hey."
In the middle of using her knife to open the top of the can of potatoes, Beth paused and glanced over at him. "Yeah?"
His brow furrowed and she saw him scuff his foot briefly on the ground before he went on in a low voice, "Ain't gonna leave you. Even if y' hurt yourself. Okay?"
For just a second, she watched him, memorizing the expression on his face so she could try and pick it apart later. Then she nodded, and a soft pleased smile curved across her lips as she replied simply, "Okay."
Then she turned back to the can, pulling the lid off with a sharp jerk of her knife. As she looked down at the potatoes inside, Beth giggled.
"What now?"
Beth poured the potatoes into the pot, along with the rabbit she'd cut up earlier, and flashed him a grin. "You know shoes with bells on them would attract all the walkers. Don't you know anything about being stealthy, Mr. Dixon?"
He leaned back against the door, arms crossed, and to anyone else he would have looked as cranky as always, but Beth could see the hint of a smirk on his lips as he teased back, "Hush, little elf."
She hushed, but it was only for a few minutes, as always. Beth didn't think he'd minded, anyway. She saw the way he came closer to the kitchen, drawn by her laughter and animated stories to sit at the table while she cooked. And she saw the way he smiled that barely-there smile at her, when she joked about him getting her a little elf hat to wear with her jingly shoes.
Heck, if it made him smile as much as he was tonight, Beth figured she'd let him call her 'elf' as long as he wanted to.
