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Chapter Text

Beth kept her expression fixed in the ‘pleasant neutral’ she had been practicing for the last six months, even as all the ruckus and boisterous, drunken laughter reached higher and higher levels.

‘Pleasant neutral’ was curated specifically for the men that frequented the saloon she and her sister Maggie worked at. A soft lip with a slight upturn – not a smile, but not flat enough to invite men to tell her to smile. Eyes not focusing on any individual for more than a passing moment, lest they think she was interested in them, but not fixed solely on the glasses she was filling or counter she was wiping that may indicate fear or discomfort.

But six months had acquainted Beth closely with the sounds, the sights, the smells of a normal night – and the signs of trouble.

The group that had rode in to town that evening were radiating trouble.

There were three of them, set up on the right near the stairs to the brothel that operated out of the rooms above. They’d been drinking heavily and though on the surface they appeared no different from the rest of the men talking, laughing and playing cards, there was a degree of menace in their eyes that set Beth on edge.

It was possible she was being overly dramatic. After all, she’d had limited contact with men for most of her life. Her daddy, God rest his soul, had been protective of his girls and as the town doctor, held enough prestige and respect for any rougher sorts to steer clear of the Greene girls. And Maggie had always been a protector for Beth, even moreso now it was just the two of them.

In fact, Maggie should be back any moment. She fixed it so that her and Beth were always working the same times and on the rare occasions they weren’t, would come in anyway to keep an eye on Beth and any of the patrons who might get too friendly or handsy. Beth envied Maggie’s toughness, the way she could control a room with a stern look and colourful warning.

The saloon’s owner Negan had ordered Maggie upstairs for cleaning; after all, the upstairs girls were the biggest money maker for this place. Maggie drew a hard line on upstairs work – cleaning and helping the girls get ready only, no funny business. And Beth was not allowed to step a foot upstairs.

So she continued to serve whiskey and polish glasses downstairs alone. Except, she was running short on glasses. She’d have to collect the empty ones spread across the tables.

The bar itself offered a sense of protection, a barrier between her and everyone else. Anyone fixing to get to her would make short work of jumping the wooden surface sure, but she still preferred to be behind it.

She took a deep breath, mentally checking her ‘pleasant neutral’ look and stance (back straight, fast but not rushed pace) as she looped around to the open area. She started closer to the troublesome group, so that she could quickly sweep left and hopefully be far away from their table before they noticed her.

“Hey Bethy, how’s about another drink?” Eugene cajoled as she swept passed him.

“How about you pay your tab first?” Beth responded. Eugene immediately deflated, harmless as he was. She gave him a little smile but moved on. Incurring any more debt once Negan cut someone off would come out of her pocket.

She felt eyes on her immediately, and from the corner of her eye saw one of the bigger men on the new group turn to look at her.

“Girlie, c’mhere…”

Beth kept pace, stacking glasses.

“You can get your drinks from the bar, no table service.”

She’d heard Maggie say it a hundred times, and though it was often answered with grumbles, it brokered no argument.

“I said come here girl.”

Beth darted a glance up the stairs. No Maggie.

She took stock instead of the men around her. She knew all of them by name, and some better than others, but none she would call a friend. Eugene was probably the closest, and soft and meek as he was, there would be no help from him.

Her eyes darted further, catching on a dark figure sitting alone at a small table.

Daryl Dixon.

He was a regular, in most nights. He rarely spoke, save for ordering a drink or a quiet round of cards, which he always seemed to win. Other patrons tended to give him a wide, respectful berth, due to his reputation.

Beth didn’t know the full or true story of his past. She’d heard he was a sharp-shooting bandit wanted for crimes across the country. Some said he and his brother robbed banks across the five towns outside Woodbury but scared the wits out of the town’s Sheriff so never got jailed. Another time she’d overheard men talking about how he grew up with the Indians and was half wild.

The only facts she knew for sure was that he was a quiet man who raised horses on a ranch on the west side of town and never made any trouble for her or Maggie. In truth, he was one of her favourite customers. Always polite and respectful, never made a mess and never threw a pass at her when her sister wasn’t looking, the way most men did.

“Thought you working girls were told to be friendly…”

The man stood up, and was weaving his way over to Beth, eyes fixed unerringly on her.

Beth moved efficiently between tables towards Mr Dixon, making sure there were as many barriers between her and the man as possible.

“If you want company, you’ll have to talk to Mr Dwight,” Beth nodded at the lanky man sitting in his usual spot.

“I don’t need to shop around, I already found somethin’ I like,” he rumbled back, pushing a table aside.

He was maybe six feet away. Beth considered just turning on her heel, making a run for the bar where Maggie kept a rifle in case of trouble, though she doubted she’d have time to reach it let alone cock it and aim. The man’s arm extended forward, reaching for Beth…

But a big hand closed roughly around his wrist, halting his progress.

“Leave the lady be.”

Mr Dixon’s voice, on the few occasions he did speak, was always low and gravelly. But she’d never heard it this threatening. She thought that if she were on the end of a voice like that, she’d leave town for a few days after, just to be safe.

He hadn’t yelled, but a quiet had come over the room. Everyone, including Beth, watched Mr Dixon with his hat tilted over his face and his perfect stillness as he held Beth’s pursuer’s arm.

“I ain’t talkin’ to you,” the big man sneered, moving his arm to try to break the hold. Mr Dixon threw his arm down, making the man stumble slightly. With a smooth slide, Mr Dixon now stood partly in front of Beth.

“Well I’m talkin’ to you. Mind yer manners, or get the hell out,” Mr Dixon growled.

The big man scoffed, though his eyes narrowed and his swaggering confidence had obviously turned to caution.

“She your woman? Shit, reckon she might like some attention from a real man. Promise I won’t rough her up too much.”

Beth flinched back, which only caused the man to break out into a lecherous grin.

Mr Dixon turned his head to the side and nodded towards the bar. Beth jumped at the prompt, scurrying back behind the wooden surface. Her hand went to the rifle, but she didn’t pick it up. Yet.

Mr Dixon had turned back to the brute and a moment of expectant silence hovered. Then, fast as lightning, Mr Dixon swung his fist, right into the other man’s throat.

The man folded in half, gasping and spluttering for air. Mr Dixon grabbed his collar and dragged him out the front door in an impressive demonstration of speed and strength.

The rest of the saloon jumped to their feet to follow, none quicker than the bully’s two companions.

By the time Beth had flung the front window open to see what was happening, the brute was laying in the dirt in front of the steps while Mr Dixon towered over him.

“Yer’ve outstayed yer welcome. Get.”

The man still wasn’t able to reply. But from behind, his friends parted the excited crowd and barrelled towards Mr Dixon.

Without needing to turn around, he dodged to the side to avoid the angry fists of one of the strangers, the man stumbling down the steps in surprise. The other got a swift punch to the jaw and a boot to the torso which sent him falling down beside his companions.

The strangers roared their displeasure and Beth saw their hands go to the holsters at their waist. But once again, they were outpaced.

A loud shot rang out and a small patch of dirt exploded just inches from the hand of one of the men. They froze and the watching crowd fell quiet again in anticipation.

Mr Dixon’s arm was extended, one empty holster beneath his leather vest and a shiny silver gun still smoking slightly where it was pointed at the three men.

“The next bullet goes in one of you,” he warned darkly.

Finally realising they were outmatched, the three men scrambled up and hurried out of Mr Dixon’s sight.

The crowd grumbled, no doubt disappointed there wasn’t a longer fight, and reclaimed their tables.

Mr Dixon came in last, stopping at the corner of the bar.

“You right?”

His head was still tilted down which, if Beth didn’t know better, she would attribute to shyness. But she could make out his blue-green eyes as he looked at her searchingly.

She nodded shakily, heart still racing. The lump in her throat stopped her from speaking, but also from crying.

“Go get yer sister, these drunks can go thirsty for a minute,” he urged gruffly, already turning back to his table and seat facing the bar.

By the time Beth had fully absorbed his words, Maggie was already hurrying down the stairs, no doubt summoned by the gun shot. She made a bee-line straight for Beth, looking around suspiciously and asking what was going on.

Mr Dixon stayed til the end of Beth and Maggie’s shift, smoking a cigarette on the porch as the girls tidied up for one of the upstairs girls to mind the bar until the last of the brothel patrons left in the early morning.

Maggie looped her arm through Beth’s, positioning her farthest from Mr Dixon. But Beth stopped, looking at the sharp cheekbones lit up by the ember of his cigarette.

“Good night Mr Dixon,” she said with a courteous nod. “And thank you.”

It was a poor prize of gratitude, but Beth couldn’t afford anything else, not since Daddy…

The man nodded, his hat somehow managing to dip lower.

Maggie tugged on her arm, urging her to continue on.

Beth didn’t turn back, but she was quite sure Mr Dixon watched over them until they reached their apartments above the Doctor’s surgery at the far end of main street.

Chapter Text

Daryl slouched in his usual chair in the saloon. His leg started to jiggle nervously until he forced it still. Dammit he could sit under cover of foliage completely silent and still for hours when he was hunting, but put Beth Greene in the same room as him and he was a mess.

“Mr Dixon! Welcome back. We missed you round here the last few days.”

Speak of the devil. The little blonde woman stepped lightly over to his table, putting down a clean glass of whiskey and smiling at him brightly.

Goddam if she wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her blonde hair like sunshine braided back, with just a couple of tendrils curling around her smooth, porcelain face, her wide hazel eyes and soft, pink lips…

And it wasn’t just that she was pretty enough to bring a tear to your eye – she was kind and good in a way that Daryl knew, through lots of lived experience, was very rare. Despite Daryl’s reputation and general sullen-ness, Beth Greene had always been decent to him. Always greeting him by name (‘Mr Dixon’, no one else ever called him that), asking after his health…

Unfortunately, her sweetness attracted a bad element – not just Daryl, who had no business thinking of her at all, but an even more unsavoury crowd, the kind who went through life looking for good things to break, or take.

He’d always kept an eye out for these types at the saloon she worked at once her daddy died. Daryl knew Beth wasn’t experienced with the nasty underbelly of menfolk, and her sister may be a strong woman, but while she could handle town drunks, she was no match for someone truly looking to do harm.

Since he’d thrown out that fat fuck and his dumbass friends hassling Beth a couple of weeks ago, Beth had been extra warm to him.

He loved it. And hated how much he loved it. It was conflicting.

Beth lingered in front of him now, her head tilted cutely to the side.

“What’s kept you from us?”

Daryl tried to swallow his nerves.

“Sold a horse in Alexandria, did some huntin’,” he grunted.

Beth nodded and Daryl wished he was better with words, or at least could string more than a sentence together.

“I saw you in town with a beautiful young horse last week. A Mustang, right?”

Daryl nodded. “Filly, real gentle girl.”

Beth beamed. “Really? Does that come from breeding?”

He wasn’t really sure what was going on, why Beth was suddenly so interested in horses. But she was still smiling at him.

“Some. But you can’t teach temperament, you get a gentle horse, you gotta look after it.”

Beth nodded thoughtfully with a soft smile. “’Look after it’, I like that…”

Daryl wracked his mind for anything else to say, a question, something that would keep her here and looking at him like that…  But he had nothing.

“Listen, the cook got a big side of beef, I know you like red meat... and I just pulled some fresh bread out of the oven. Can I fix you a plate?”

“Thanks,” Daryl grunted with a nod, and away Beth went.

He kept a subtle eye on her as Beth flitted back around the bar, savagely pleased that no one else got a warm welcome with a drink brought to their seat.

Daryl cast his eyes out the window when Beth emerged from the doors to the kitchen, so he didn’t creep her out with unrelenting staring.

“Here you go. Enjoy!” Beth said, putting a plate down in front of him. It had an impressively large cut of meat dwarfing the sides, and a hunk of warm bread with a luxurious lump of butter on the side.

“And let me know if you need anything else,” Beth added with an encouraging grin.

***

Maggie was looking at her. One of those loaded, ‘big sister’ looks that warned of a lecture, or at least a string of intense questioning.

“You should be more careful,” Maggie said as soon as Abraham ambled away with his beer. “Flirting with the customers can lead to sticky situations.”

“I’m not flirting!” Beth insisted, though she felt her cheeks flush. “I’m just being hospitable.”

“Yeah well, some men take a smile to mean something more Bethy. And you’re a pretty, young woman. And some of these guys, they don’t have pretty, young women smiling at them a lot. They might try for something more.”

“I know Maggie,” she said soothingly.

“Especially cowboys, ranchers… the unmarried ones…” Maggie said meaningfully.

Beth sighed. “You don’t have to worry so much you know. Mr Dixon is… nice.”

“’Mr Dixon’?” Maggie echoed disbelievingly.

“Yes, Mr Dixon,” Beth darted a look at him, hoping they weren’t speaking loudly enough for him to hear, but he was absorbed in his meal.

“He’s been a real gentleman,” Beth added, before dragging her gaze back to polishing glasses.

“The scariest gunslinger in town. The one man in the county Negan is intimidated by,” Maggie listed disbelievingly.

Beth shrugged. “He’s always been perfectly nice to me.”

Maggie gave her a disagreeing grumble, but Beth got a reprieve from further convincing by two regulars entering and heading straight for a drink.

Beth looked again at Mr Dixon, just in time to see him turn back to his plate. It was a foreign feeling to be flattered by a man watching her in the saloon, but Beth found she rather liked it.

Something she would not be sharing with Maggie.

Chapter Text

Daryl stumbled, catching himself at the last moment. He pressed as hard as he could stand against the bullet in his gut, but he could feel the rag in his fist and his shirt were soaked through with blood. He may have already lost too much. Would probably lose consciousness soon.

At least he’d got the bastard that shot him. A hazard of his reputation and his assets, every now and then someone would come along, hoping he’d gone soft and try to take him on. It was only a matter of time til someone got a lucky shot in.

He could have made it back to his place, died quietly in private. But he had enough strength in him to try and see her one more time.

 It was late on a Thursday, the one day that Beth wasn’t at the saloon. He staggered closer to the old doctor’s place and heaved a painful sigh of relief when he found a light in the window. Beth often sat by the window in the evenings, he knew from passing by.

He wasn’t sure if it was his vision going or just Beth, but there was a golden halo around her where she sat, looking down at needlepoint or something.

Daryl didn’t want to scare her, and finding a dead body on her doorstep when she got up in the morning would probably do just that. He had to move away.

But, just a moment more. This was the last time he’d lay eyes on her, and he was greedy.

He made to move just a little, but it twisted his wound and he fell forward, hitting the dirt on his hands and knees after a failed attempt to right himself. It hurt like hell.

He breathed sharp and shallow as he waited for the pain to abate enough to pull himself up.

Just as he was about to try, he heard the creak of a door and a gasp.

“Mr Dixon!”

He heard her run over, and her small arm came around his shoulders.

“Here, can you stand? Just a few steps inside,” Beth urged.

Daryl groaned, he hadn’t meant to get her attention…

“Mr Dixon please, I can’t lift you. Can you move? I don’t want to leave you to get help, but…”

The distress in her voice hurt almost as much as the bullet hole. He summoned the last of his strength to stand. He tried not to lean too heavily on Beth, but she was surprisingly strong. She pulled his right arm over her shoulders and placed one hand on his chest, leading him into the doctor’s practice.

“That’s it, almost there. Just in the next room, a few more steps…” Beth encouraged him along in a strained voice. 

She led him to a narrow patient’s bed, unlooping his arm and urging him down.

“Here, I’ll swing your legs. But oh, it’s going to hurt, just… on the count of three ok, we’ll do it together. One, two, three!”

Beth grabbed his legs and pushed them up onto the bed, making up for his weakened limbs. But she was right, it tugged and burned at his gut like the devil.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” she said as she urged him to rest back against the raised half of the bed.

He was panting and sweating, and his arm had drifted away from holding his wound. He may have faded out of consciousness for a moment or Beth moved with amazing speed, because suddenly she was next to him at chest level with a small glass bottle.

“Open your mouth for me, it will help with the pain,” Beth urged, the smooth rim of the glass against his bottom lip.

He did as she asked, and tasted the sharp tang of laudanum on his tongue.

“There’s no doctor in town Mr Dixon, s-so I’m going to help you, ok? I used to help my daddy, I think – I think I know what to do. We need to get the bullet out and then stop the bleeding,” Beth rushed out her words, her breathing scared and uneven.

Daryl made a noise of protest.

“I’m sorry, but you need help now,” she apologised, turning to the nearby cupboard and pulling out a big bottle of clear alcohol and a large pair of metal forceps with shaking hands.

“No, you sh-shouldn’t have to… don’t wanna scare you…” he gasped out.

“Don’t you worry about that, you just focus on staying alive you hear?” Beth ordered, her sternness undercut by her shaky voice.

The pain started to fade, either by Beth’s intervention or because he himself was fading away. “Just wanted to…” he slurred, unable to finish.

Beth rushed away, and the sound of sloshing water drowned out his murmuring. Then she was back and tearing open his shirt.

“Oh God,” he heard her whisper quietly. Then there was a splash and a sharp sting echoing through his injury.

“We’ve got to disinfect it, I’m sorry,” she said again. “God, this is going to hurt. Maybe…  ok Mr Dixon, open up again.”

She fed him more laudanum and with another splash, doused the forceps in alcohol.

“Just – try to stay as still as possible, alright? And stay with me Mr Dixon.”

***

There were lots of moments where Beth missed her father, but this was perhaps the sharpest and most desperate of them in quite a while.

Mr Dixon had been shot in the side, and obviously come looking for a doctor, forgetting in his pain that none had come to replace Hershell Greene since his passing.

Which left him at the mercy of Beth’s clumsy ministrations.

She’d acted as nurse for her father before, but her role was always handing him things and holding the patient’s hands – certainly not digging around inside them for a pellet of metal. But it had to come out.

She wished Maggie was here. But Mr Dixon didn’t have time for Beth to run and get her sister to take care of things for her.

There had been so much blood, but she’d disinfected the wound as best she could and found the bullet a lot faster than she could have hoped with her shaky hands. Mr Dixon had gasped and groaned and gritted his teeth, each sound cutting through Beth with a flash of guilt. But he had been so strong – she knew from her father that many men became manic when being treated for such grievous wounds and lashed out at their caregiver, but Mr Dixon’s hands had remained by his sides, gripping the old bed he was laid out on.

Beth couldn’t say what the prognosis was – she didn’t think the bullet would have hit any organs, but she’d have to check her father’s books to be sure. The bleeding had slowed and Mr Dixon was as bandaged as she could get him without moving him around. All there was to do was keep the wound clean and wait. And give the patient the best comfort possible.

The last part Beth could do. She hastily washed her hands and returned to Mr Dixon’s side, gently but firmly prying his hand up from his frozen grip on the frame to hold on to her own. He murmured something she couldn’t hear, but his fingers weakly closed around hers. For the next hour, she spoke to him in low, comforting tones, fed him sips of water, squeezed his hand and stroked his hair. She stepped away only to find a blanket to cover him with.

“Beth?” she heard Maggie call out when she came home late.

“In here.”

Maggie gasped as she took in the room, and Beth efficiently explained the situation to her. Maggie jumped into action cleaning the room, demanding that Beth step away for a few moments to drink some water.

Together, the girls moved the bed, too rickety with Mr Dixon’s weight, into the small recovery room. This had a proper mattress, which Maggie hastily made up while Beth stayed with her patient to make sure he didn’t roll off the gurney.

“We can’t lift him,” Maggie said needlessly, looking between Mr Dixon and the bed.

“No, we’ll have to wait til he wakes up, or until Glenn comes tomorrow,” Beth said, noting Maggie’s fiance.

“It’s ok, I’ll stay with him. Do you want to get me some soapy water? I’ll clean him up a little before he moves to the bed,” Beth said.

Maggie’s lips thinned.

“Oh Maggie, he’s a patient! Now’s no time to be concerned with modesty,” Beth chastised, surprisingly firm.

Once she’d shooed Maggie away – after all, there was no need for Mr Dixon to be so exposed to two women when only one was necessary – Beth started gently wiping him down with a warm cloth.

There were very few times where Beth had seen Mr Dixon without his hat, and no occasion to study him in depth like now.

His light brown hair had obviously been cut in a short style but had since grown out slightly unevenly, Beth gently wiped along his brow and wondered if he’d let her cut his hair when he was feeling better.

Even where they were closed, his eyes and under looked tired, in need of a good rest. His lips were slightly chapped, she would get a salve for him later. His facial hair was a little lighter, not thick and bushy – actually, surprisingly delicate and ticklish as she ran the back of her hand over his cheek and jaw.

Beth flushed slightly as she got to his chest. Though it had been right there in front of her for some time, she’d been focused on the blood and his pain. Now, she took it in. It was firm, muscular and a little hairy. He tapered into a slightly trimmer waist, the edge of defined abdominal muscles visible outside the bandages. She grabbed some scissors Maggie had brought, getting to work on his ruined shirt. The process revealed tanned and well-formed arms, and muscular biceps she could feel the underlaying strength of, even as he lay still and she passed only lightly with a rag.

It should come as no surprise that Mr Dixon was fit – he was a man in the prime of his life, and it must take a decent amount of strength and endurance to run his own ranch and do his own hunting.

She wondered suddenly why he wasn’t married. He was quiet, but good and gentle. He had his own house and probably made a decent income. And she couldn’t imagine any red-blooded woman being anything less than pleased with what was laid out before her.

Beth sighed, patting him dry and tucking a blanket around his top half to keep him warm before moving away to get rid of his boots and socks. Some nurse she was, evaluating and objectifying her prone patient.

As she ran the damp cloth around Mr Dixon’s toes, his foot twitched and a noise stirred from within his chest. Ticklish then.

“Mr Dixon? Can you hear me?” she asked quietly, moving back to his side and clasping his hand again.

“… eth…” he murmured, his eyes cracking open a little.

“Yes, yes it’s Beth. Do you – I want to get you into bed…” she looked at the bed a few inches lower on the left.

“… hmph?” Mr Dixon grunted, looking at her strangely.

“The bed, you’ll be more comfortable,” she answered, nodding to the white sheets. “Only, I can’t lift you.”

Mr Dixon grunted as he swung his legs down, pausing on the side of the bed for breath.

“Easy does it now! Not too much at once. Why don’t we take your pants off now, and I’ll get them washed for you.”

Mr Dixon paused, just looking at her. He was supporting himself to stay upright with his arms, maybe he couldn’t do it himself and didn’t want to ask.

“Here, let me get the buckles…” Beth looped around and undid his belt and flies, tugging so his pants were loose on his hips, enough to step out of. She went to his uninjured side, slipping under his arm so he could use her shoulders to support himself as he stood and moved the few inches to the bed.

Beth kept her eyes averted as he dropped his pants, but frowned in concern as he dropped hard onto the bed with a bitten off groan.

“Do you need some more pain relief?” she asked with concern. She wasn’t sure what the maximum dose would be for someone of Mr Dixon’s size, but if he was suffering she thought it worth the risk to go a little overboard.

“Nah,” he gasped, his voice rough.

“Oh here, here…” Beth grabbed a glass of water off the nightstand, pressing it against his lips. He gulped it down, a few drips escaping.

With some clumsy cooperation, Mr Dixon was successfully tucked into the bed moments later. Beth stroked his hair back from where it had fallen just over his eyes.

“There you are. Try to get some more rest, we’ll get you some broth in the morning and change your bandages. Are you sure you don’t want a little more laudanum to get to sleep?”

Mr Dixon shook his head.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to- thanks,” he grunted, eyes darting up shyly to meet hers. Beth gave him a kind smile.

“Of course. I’ll be right here if you need me, alright?”

He gave her a short nod.

Beth would prefer to take a seat right by the bed to watch over him, but she didn’t think Mr Dixon would be very comfortable with that as he tried to drift off. So she quietly busied herself across the room.

Once she started to pick up the sound of even breathing, she abandoned the sheets she was re-folding and returned promptly back to his side.

Chapter Text

Daryl woke up to three people talking over him.

It was a disconcerting feeling – usually he was a very light sleeper, and he almost never had company in the house let alone his bedroom. But he opened his eyes and immediately recognised the blonde head of Beth next to him, arguing with a blur of brown hair that was likely her sister and another figure which, judging by the male voice, black hair and how close he was standing to Maggie, was probably her oriental lover.

He made to sit up, uncomfortable with being prone around other people. But the movement brought the pain of his guts screeching back.

“… he’s in no state to move,” he heard Beth say, applying a gentle touch to his shoulder to lay back down which he automatically complied with.

“Well he has to at least sit up and take care of the necessities Bethy,” Maggie’s stern voice was softened by the childish nickname.

Beth huffed, and looked down at him.

“Alright. Glenn, can you help Mr Dixon?”

There was not a spoken response, but Beth leaned down to him as though the answer was yes.

“I’m gonna go get you something to eat, then we’ll get those bandages changed and some more pain relief, ok? Do you need anything else?”

Her voice was so soft and caring, he bit his tongue so he didn’t say anything to accidentally ruin it. He shook his head.

Once the girls left, Maggie’s fella – Glenn? – was by his side, helping him sit up.

“Gotta take a piss,” he grunted, his bladder screaming almost as loud as his side.   

“Sure uh, here.”

A bed pan appeared and Daryl was relieved to see only a tinge of pink as he went – didn’t look like any bad damage then, and the fact that he was sitting up and didn’t have a wicked fever was probably a good sign.

Daryl reluctantly settled back on the bed, too sore and tired to stand let alone make his way home. He hated being dependent on other people.

Seems like Glenn wasn’t willing to brave out Daryl’s company any longer, as he scurried away the second Beth came back in.

“I thought we’d start with a vegetable broth and later, if you’re feeling up for it, we can try some oatmeal,” she said with an encouraging smile.

Daryl reached for the tray but she dodged him before settling it across his lap and picking up the spoon like she intended to feed him.

“Ain’t gotta spoon feed me,” he grumbled. He’d rather go hungry then act like an invalid around the girl.

Beth frowned and he almost took it back.

“If you’re going to be stubborn about it…”

She stood up and Daryl bit his tongue again. Course the first thing he’d properly said to her would piss her off.

But she returned with a small metal cup, and scooped some of the broth out of the bowl.

“Here, you can sip, but I’m gonna help you hold on to it so you don’t end up wearing it,” she compromised.

She wrapped his hand first around the cup, then laid her smaller one over so their fingers were all entangled.

He watched her over the rim, sure his cheeks were flaming – they always showed what he was feeling. His brother Merle used to give him all kinds of shit for it.

He was weaker than he thought, so he lowered the cup back to the tray and she allowed it.

“So what’s the prognosis Doc? Am I good to head out?” Daryl asked.

“Absolutely not. We’re going to watch your wound for a couple of days, and you’ll stay until you’re better.”

Daryl grunted. A few more days of her tender attentions and he would never recover, bullet hole be damned.

“Gotta go feed the horses.”

“Glenn and Maggie are getting ready to leave to take care of your place now, they’ll stop by for your instructions any minute. They can get you some more clothes too, you’re a bit big for daddy’s old stuff,” Beth told him matter of factly.

“I’ve been enough trouble,” he huffed.

“Not at all.”

Her tone brokered no argument, and she urged him to take another few sips.

After he explained in painful detail how to take care of the horses to Maggie and her guy, Beth had him sitting up so she could re-bandage his wound.

Her arms wrapped around him as she unfurled the clean dressing around his torso, her reach short enough that there were multiple points of contact as she negotiated around his wider form. In the end, the pain was almost a welcome distraction.

“It’s looking good I think, only a little red,” Beth said, her brows still knit together in worry. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead.

“A little warm, but ok. Tell me if you start feeling fevered. That’s an order,” she finished with a tentative smile.

Daryl’s lips twitched and he nodded his compliance.

“I’m afraid we don’t have much to entertain,” Beth told him, biting her lip. “We have some cards maybe… or I could read to you?”

“Don’t wanna bother you,” Daryl said, though laying back and letting her sweet voice wash over him, without having to bumble out any awkward response sounded real good.

“You aren’t – I usually do a little reading through the day, and I can’t leave you to expire from boredom while I do it alone.”

Beth was gone for barely two minutes before she was back and settling on a chair right next to him, just the slightest bit out of breath.

“Is ‘the Headless Horseman’ ok? Maggie hates me reading horror, you’ll make for a good alibi,” she grinned conspiratorially.

Daryl exhaled in lieu of a laugh. Wasn’t the kind of book he figured she’d be keen on.

He relaxed as best he could back in the pillows she’d stacked up behind him and let her voice soothe him into a doze.

***

By the third morning, Daryl figured he was out of the woods – he would be in a delicate condition for a couple of weeks yet, but if he could keep the wound clean, he’d be fine. Which means he didn’t need to impose any more on Beth’s generous hospitality.

Beth had drawn him a bath, shallow enough to keep his stomach dry. He was relieved, given he had been sweating and bleeding his way through two days with her in smelling distance. He may be rough, but he didn’t want to turn her nose up in disgust.

She had apologised when indicating the soap laid out, that it was all they had available. Now he was rubbing it over his hands, he realised it was a floral scent, feminine. Hers.

He greedily inhaled. He didn’t mind smelling like a flower if it was a flower she liked.

He scrubbed himself roughly and, relieved he didn’t have to get help from the scrawny little Glenn, hoisted himself out and dressed in fresh clothes Maggie had dug out of his cupboard.

Beth met him at the door, looping their arms together to support his tentative steps and led him to the small office. She’d made it an adhoc dining table, with mismatched chairs around already occupied by Maggie and Glenn.

“Figured we wouldn’t test the stairs just yet, and that you were probably sick of soups,” Beth said cheerfully, guiding him to a seat before immediately moving to serve up the plates.

The proper food – eggs, bacon, roast potatoes – tasted great on an empty stomach, though he ate slowly and resisted the urge for a second helping. He’d been cooking for himself, and before that for his family, long enough to appreciate the effort that went into even simple foods, let alone the cost. The girls had been feeding him for days, on the salary of barmaids, and he’d be damned if he took any more than he needed.

Daryl contributed little to the conversation, but enjoyed the easy chat and jokes between the girls. Still, it was bittersweet, seeing this window into happy lives that he had no permanent place in. His family had been nothing like this, always tense and flinching at any fast movements. There had been some of this fondness and generosity in Hanola’s little shack, but nothing that could last…

“Glenn’s going to be here tonight while we’re at the saloon,” Beth informed him. “He burns toast, but can cobble something edible together for you both.”

Glenn’s squawk made Maggie laugh and Daryl wish he could join in the familiar teasing.

“Actually… thought I’d head home today.”

The smile dropped off Beth’s face instantly.

“Home? But… you still need to heal, you need to rest,” Beth said, confused.

“I can do that at home, I don’t need to bother you any more.”

“Mr Dixon, for the hundredth time, you are not a bother.”

Maggie put her hand over Beth’s, adopting a soothing, cajoling tone.

“Bethy, he probably wants his own bed, his own space…”

Beth frowned, looking down as if reading a difficult passage in a book. “I understand… but you shouldn’t be alone. Maybe I should stay-“

“No-“

“NO!”

Both Daryl and Maggie spoke at the same time.

Maggie cleared her throat. “No honey, it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to stay with an unmarried man.”

Beth’s bottom lip jutted out slightly in a miniature pout that Daryl tried not to feel flattered or enticed by.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, but her expression didn’t smooth out.

“And if I need help, I know where to go.”

The last seemed to console Beth some and she reluctantly nodded.

“Well, we’ll still come by in the mornings, to help you with chores and your bandages,” Beth said. She fixed Daryl with a hard look when he opened his mouth to disagree. “No arguing.”

“Yes ma’am,” Daryl grumbled, fighting a smile. Girl had more sass and backbone than she knew.

Chapter Text

Daryl Dixon might be friends with Beth Greene.

It was difficult to say. Daryl hadn’t really had friends before – people he knew, people he worked with, people he liked well enough, but not friends.  

And could men and women even be friends?

But in the weeks following his full recovery, Beth had been even more generous with her smiles, stopping to talk to him for longer and longer. She’d even come out to the ranch a few times, always in the company of her sister, and helped feed and brush the horses.

There’d only been one time when she’d lost her patience with him, when he tried to give her some money to pay for the food and medicine she’d spent on him. She was downright offended, going all red and crossing her arms across her body so her breasts were pressed up against the neckline of her dress and flustering Daryl more.

So he’d acquiesced, and slipped Maggie some coins behind her back, as her older sister was more practical and cared significantly less about accommodating Daryl.

The rest of the crowd at the saloon had noticed the friendly treatment. This pleased Daryl immensely, and not just because it appealed to the completely improper possessiveness he felt over Beth’s attention. The foul innuendoes and passes the clientele made at Beth had drastically reduced. Men stopped giving her trouble about paying their tab and ‘mistaking’ her for one of the upstairs girls under Daryl’s watchful eye.

But that didn’t mean the girls were completely untroubled. Like tonight.

John Gregory inherited the General Store from his father a few years ago. He was unanimously disliked by everyone in Woodbury.

He was spoiled, cocky and a damned cheat. He’d never worked an honest day in his life and liked to throw his weight around wherever he could.

He’d never given Daryl any trouble, because he was a coward. But he had no problem going after a couple of young women.

“Negan got you working a double Margaret? Gonna need it for your shop bill. Maybe you should ask him if there’s any work going upstairs so you can make this month’s payment?”

Maggie’s eyes were steel, her shoulders tense. Behind her, Beth had an unhappy tilt to her lips. But both said nothing.

“Course, I’m always willing to negotiate…”

His eyes moved pointedly between Maggie at the bar and the staircase.

“Not a chance,” she ground out shortly.

Gregory snickered nastily.

“Alright, alright now. How bout a wager?” he asked, pulling out a deck of cards.

“I’m here to work, not play.”

Gregroy smirked. “How bout you take a break and I’ll make it worth your while? Hmm?”

Maggie didn’t respond, but nor did she walk away.

“You win against me at a hand of poker, and I’ll wave 10% of your debt.”

Maggie snorted. “And if I lose, you’ll add 10? No thanks.”

“No, I don’t need more money. You lose, I get a kiss.”

Maggie’s lip curled.

Gregory’s eyes narrowed in offense, but he quickly schooled his expression back to a slimy grin.

“20%,” he said.

Maggie looked down, but Daryl saw- she was considering it.

“25. Final offer. Think about it – a quarter of your debt gone… that’s enough to buy you another couple of months of food…” he taunted, shuffling the deck.

Daryl’s hand twitched. They must be in worse straits than he thought if Maggie were considering this kind of humiliation. She’d be furious, but maybe Daryl should intervene.

“One hand, 25% of our bill wiped, or a kiss,” Maggie repeated.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Ok.”

Beth flinched behind her, eyes going to the floor in shared shame.

“But not with you. For 25%, I want her,” Greogry said, predatory eyes turning to Beth. “That kind of money buys a virgin. And working in a place like this, who knows how much longer that’ll be on offer.”

Daryl was up and out of his seat in a second and crossed the room, just in time to catch Maggie’s hand she had swung hard at Gregory.

Bastard deserved it, but the trouble that prick could make for her could ruin her life.

Gregory stumbled back in fear, making a couple of the men paying attention snicker. He flushed red and straightened his jacket.

“Bitch,” he spat.

Beth had grabbed Maggie’s other side, whispering calming words in her ear. Daryl turned to face Gregory.

“You wanna play for the ladies’ bill? Let’s do it. Or are you too chicken shit to play a man who knows what he’s doing?”

More men had started watching the confrontation, making Gregory twitch under the public accusation of cowardice.

“Pfft,” the weasel scoffed, though Daryl could practically taste his fear in the air. “Didn’t know you were getting a taste-“

“Finish that sentence and you’ll wish you hadn’t,” Daryl growled, shifting so his vest moved to reveal his ever-present pistols.

Gregory’s eyes followed the movement and Daryl saw him swallow heavily. A threat from Daryl Dixon was not something to be taken lightly.

“You wanna play? Fine. But I win, you give me 30% of their debt. And boy, let me tell you – that’s a lotta horse feed.”

“Fine – but we ain’t using your deck.”

Daryl stayed between him and the girls as they set up at a table, dealing from his own deck to the man with pursed lips.

 It took two minutes for Daryl to win with a straight. Gregory might have been a cheat, but Daryl was a better one.

“A stay of execution ladies, enjoy it,” Gregory said loudly with a sour look, trying to claw back a bit of pride. “And don’t worry, I’m always ready to do a deal with a pretty young thing on the other end.”

He leered one more time at Beth, and Daryl considered following him out and putting a boot in his back.

Chapter Text

A stay of execution indeed.

Beth could see the conflict in Maggie’s body language – she hated needing help, especially from men, but Mr Dixon had just won them a whole lot of relief in their ever-mounting debt, and stopped her from assaulting a customer (even one who really deserved it).

They couldn’t afford for Maggie to lose her job. They couldn’t afford to live even with Maggie and her both working – Lord knows no one paid women enough to really make a living, let alone pay down debts from having an ill relative pass.

Beth was immensely grateful for Mr Dixon’s intervention. Would she have done it, let that heinous man kiss her, touch her, so they could afford to keep buying food? Maggie wouldn’t have allowed it, but Beth could no sooner let Gregory slobber over her sister and humiliate her.

Their saviour watched Gregory leave with narrowed eyes, before turning almost bashfully towards the girls. He gave a halting nod and immediately made his escape, no doubt hoping to avoid any expression of gratitude.

Beth gave chase.

The doors swung closed behind her and she called out softly.

“Thank you, Mr Dixon.”

He paused where he had just stepped onto the dirt road of Main Street. He just turned his head.

“’S nothin’,” he murmured, shuffling his feet as though to keep walking.

Beth hurried down the steps and to his side so he couldn’t flee before she’d properly said her piece. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but he deserved her thanks.

“It was something to me, and to Maggie,” she insisted, tilting her head to try to catch his eyes under his hat. “You were very gallant.”

It was dark but Beth could see the colour in Mr Dixon’s cheeks. She knew him now to be a very sweet man under the gruff and glares, almost timid but with a strong streak of honour that saw him swoop to the rescue like a dark hero, but recoil immediately from applause, like he didn’t think he deserved it.

Beth suspected she was one of the few privileged enough to get a glimpse at the real Daryl Dixon.

He shifted uneasily, eyes catching hers before darting away again. She could see his frame tense and his weight shift, to take him hastily away from her scrutiny.

“He was right, you know.”

She didn’t expect to say it, the words came out unbidden.

Mr Dixon paused, silently waiting for her to continue.

“Wiping out some of the debt is a relief, and I’m very grateful. But it will build back up again. Maggie and I can’t seem to dig our way out,” Beth gave a humourless little chuckle, even as the familiar feeling of dread wound around her heart.

He didn’t reply, but he turned to face her full on now, listening.

“Realistically, the only way out is for me to cosy up to a wealthy man,” Beth said, giving voice to the truth her and Maggie had refused to speak to each other. “Maggie has Glenn, and there’s no other jobs where we can earn more… well, no jobs we’re willing to do.”

The upstairs girls earned more, but the mere thought filled Beth with terror.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Mr Dixon said quietly. “You deserve better than scum like him.”

Beth smiled wistfully, but sadly.

“Not many other options I’m afraid, short of moving and trying our luck in another town” Beth said in a hitched whisper. They couldn’t even do that – the Sheriff was also the landlord for the Doctor’s surgery, and he was letting them stay for free until someone new rolled into town, as long as they kept up the place. Once they had to move into a boarding house, what little money they had would be further stretched across rent, paying their debt and living expenses.

“Not many people in Woodbury are gentleman,” Beth went on. “Present company excluded.”

Mr Dixon cleared his throat, a little off-kilter from the compliment.

“How much you need?” he grunted.

Beth sighed, thinking of the ledger books her and Maggie carefully kept and how they would pour over them at night, trying to stretch every penny. “More than we can earn.”

“How much?” he insisted.

Beth blinked, and realised suddenly what was happening. Mr Dixon, Protector of the weak, was rallying to save her once again.

A sudden flood of guilt threatened to overwhelm her. She hadn’t meant to manipulate or hint at him to get involved! She just wanted to talk to him, and perhaps borrow just a little of his quiet strength to voice her fears… oh, dammit Beth.

“Oh no, no – I didn’t mean to trouble you with this,” Beth said, hanging her head in shame.

“You saved my life.”

There, so blunt and earnest, but simultaneously so generous in attributing credit.

“You came to the surgery for help, and it was my pleasure to give it.”

Mr Dixon shifted again, uneasy.

“I didn’t.”

Beth frowned. “You didn’t?”

“Didn’t come for help. I…”

He huffed and made to turn as though to abruptly leave, but turned back to her with a restless energy.

“I came to see you.”

Beth blinked. “Me?”

He nodded. He opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind.

“Never mind,” he said, turning and walking away.

“Wait!” Beth dashed after him, wrapping a hand around his upper arm to stop him. She was very aware that he only came to a halt of his own volition. She looped around in front of him, keeping one hand on his arm to warn him against running away.

“You came to see me. You were bleeding out Mr Dixon… Why?”

His tongue nervously darted out to wet his lips. “Just… to see you. One las’ time.”

Beth gasped. It was the single most romantic thing she’d ever heard. And it was for her.

“Is that… is that why you come here too? To see me?” she asked quietly, her mind racing putting all the clues together.

He nodded, watching her cautiously.

“Mr Dixon,” she breathed, her eyes soft as she melted inside. She stepped three inches closer.

“I know I ain’t good enough fer a girl like you, but…”

Beth held her breath.

“If you need a man with money, I got money. You can have it.”

And she let out the breath she was holding.

“Oh. No, Mr Dixon, I can’t just take your money,” she said shaking her head. She let her hand drop from his arm.

“I ain’t gonna use it,” he insisted, visibly frustrated.

“It’s not right, I couldn’t,” she demurred.

“Why the hell not? Don’t I get to decide what’s right to do with my money?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Beth said annoyed. “But you can’t force me to accept it. To, to use you in such a manner…”

Beth trailed off in disgust at the idea of taking such ruthless advantage of Mr Dixon’s kindness.

“I don’t worry about what people think,” he said, and Beth completely believed him.

“Well what about your future wife? Your future family? Your money should be saved for that.”

“Damn girl, I ain’t got a wife, and not gonna have one any time soon,” he growled.

“Well, maybe you would if you asked, Mr Dixon!” Beth huffed.

A look of total shock painted Mr Dixon’s face, and through it, Beth saw raw hope bloom in his eyes. He looked lost.

Beth understood then that Mr Dixon really didn’t think he deserved her, for whatever reason. Beth Greene, the meek girl from a little town with no great beauty, smarts or achievements, and certainly no dowry.

So Beth had to be brave enough for both of them.

“You know, if you asked…” she said, looking up at him from under her lashes. “… I’d say yes.”

The only sound between them was his uneven breathing.

“You…” Mr Dixon swallowed nervously. “Will you marry me then?”

It was gruff, plain and utterly unidealistic. Beth smiled.

 “Yes Mr Dixon, I will marry you.”

Chapter Text

They were married the next Wednesday.

Daryl spent the days leading up to it cleaning the house and unpacking the rooms he’d shut up years ago, in between bouts of crippling self-doubt and a doomed feeling that at any moment Maggie was going to show up on his doorstep and tell him Beth had made a mistake and of course she wouldn’t marry him.

But that didn’t happen.

He still went to the saloon to see her, and Beth would throw him pleased smiles and pretty blushes.

Maggie had caught him the day before, for the talk he knew was coming.

“You know what I’m about to tell you?” she asked with crossed arms.

“Reckon I can guess.”

Maggie nodded. “So you know that if you hurt her, none of your guns or your surly looks will protect you from me.”

Daryl nodded. “Good.”

With Maggie acting as Beth’s protector, he was satisfied that he would be… held in check. Beth would be his wife, at least in name, and living in his house. With him. All the time. Daryl would never do anything to hurt Beth, but if he should forget himself, be weakened by sheer exposure and try for more than friendly courtesy or whatever Beth was willing to give… Maggie would boot him straight and, between them, they would make sure Beth had a comfortable life she could be content with.

So that Wednesday morning, Daryl scrubbed himself red, combed his hair and put on his best shirt.

He waited inside the small chapel, barely responding to the preacher’s awkward small talk. His heart was thudding so hard in his chest, the sound blended in his ear with the clip of Glenn’s shoes as he jogged down the aisle to take a seat in the front pew, giving Daryl a smile and gesture of encouragement.

Then the doors opened and there was Beth, looking like an angel.

She had a light pink dress on, her hair twisted up in elegant curls and a gauzy shawl wrapped around her arms in lieu of a veil. She had a little bouquet of daisies clutched in her right hand, and her left was looped through Maggie’s as she walked her down the aisle in the place of her father.

Beth’s wide eyes were sparkling as she fixed immediately on Daryl, her open warmth and joy every bit the blushing bride. He was entranced.

Dixons weren’t lucky by nature, so he was very aware of just how unlikely it was that he of all people, should end up with this prize. Beth walking towards him, about to promise herself to him, was more than he could have ever hoped for.

He’d never been a romantic, nor one to put stock into occasions like weddings, but he knew now that this moment mattered. He’d promise today, and take the promise to his grave, that he’d be a dutiful husband – her protector, and worthy of this trust she was putting in him.

She reached the altar. The preacher’s words were little more than buzzing in his ears.

When it was time to face Beth and say their vows, he wiped his sweaty palms as subtly as he could against his trousers before taking hold of her small hands, soft and delicate in his calloused touch.

He repeated the vows, stumbling slightly at the start, and Beth lightly squeezed his fingers in reassurance.

“Do you have the ring?”

Daryl blinked, feeling slow as molasses, before the words registered and he shoved his hand in his pocket. Another gift from Maggie: Beth’s mother’s wedding ring. The simple band of tarnished gold slipped perfectly onto her finger.

A tear slid down Beth’s face, but her smile remained in place. When the time came he’d been dreading and looking forward to in almost equal measure, he cupped her cheek and wiped the tear track away as he leaned down to kiss her.

It was short and chaste, but the way Beth tilted her head up and puckered her lips slightly to receive his kiss sent fire through Daryl’s veins and he had no option but to linger, just for another few moments.

***

Beth couldn’t stop twirling and fiddling with the new ring on her finger. She was touched that Maggie had given it to her – it was hers by rights as the first daughter, but she knew how much it meant to Beth, who had fewer memories of their mother as she’d died when Beth was still quite young.

Mr Dixon – her husband – carried her trunk through the door to his ranch house, awkwardly stretching his leg out to hold the door open for her.

“Well, here it is. Kitchen’s through there, washroom and bedroom here… more bedrooms there.”

Beth had seen the family room before, when she’d come over with Maggie during Mr Dixon’s recovery. But now she looked around, ducking her head into the kitchen as Mr Dixon put her trunk away. It was large and clean, if a little bare. But Beth found herself quite excited to get in there and do some baking, which she was quite good at but had little occasion or means to practice in the last year.

Mr Dixon – oh, this was silly! Daryl. It felt odd, thinking about using his first name, but she would get used to it very quickly. Perhaps she should just call him ‘husband’ – that was sure to make him blush a little, which she found rather endeared her further to the idea.

“Uh, you can change anythin’ you want,” he said as he entered the living space again, gesturing to the worn but sturdy furniture. “Add your decorations and shi- whatever.”

“How about a proper tour before I start making redecorating plans?” she asked teasingly, closing the distance between them.

Daryl backed up a couple of steps, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Ain’t much to look at, I never really bothered fillin’ the rooms.”

The ranch house was large, three bedrooms and multiple sitting rooms, including one lovely sitting room in the back that would get good sun in the afternoon and had a great view of the mountains in the distance. Daryl was right, some of the rooms weren’t furnished, or just had one or two functional pieces. But all of them were clean and well-maintained.

They ended by the door to the master bedroom. Butterflies swirled in Beth’s tummy.

“I’ll let you unpack, gonna check on the horses,” Daryl grunted, turning tail and making pace out of the back door.

Beth blinked.

She supposed consummation was generally something done at night. Sunset was only a couple of hours away… So she did as suggested, finding a place for her belongings and the meagre contents of her glory box.

***

Beth had a good time exploring her new kitchen and taking her time making dinner. She beamed at Daryl as he set the table. She was looking forward to spending more time alone with him, without him being prone on his back with a bullet hole in his middle.

“So how’d you come to run a horse ranch?” Beth asked as they sat down to eat. “Family business?”

“Naw, my family never did much work,” Daryl said, tearing into a piece of bread with his hands. “I worked for this fella that raised horses, got good at it. Had some cash so I bought some.”

“A self-made man. It’s really impressive Daryl.”

He snorted. “Not exactly a tycoon.”

“I see this is going to be a problem,” Beth sighed.

Daryl looked up, slightly cautious. “Wha’?”

“Is it not customary for a husband to agree with his wife?” she teased.

He blinked. “When she’s right.”

Beth giggled. “Mmm, I think we should agree now – I’m almost always right. Especially when I’m admiring my husband.”

Daryl’s cheeks went pink and he looked down, but his mouth twitched up.  

It was a lovely meal with Beth able to gently interrogate Daryl and openly flirt with him without Maggie’s disapproving looks. Daryl got up to help her with the dishes – a benefit of marrying a man who had been living alone, self-sufficient.

Beth folded the cloth in the sink as Daryl put the last plate away.

“I might… get washed up,” she said, aiming for demure.

Daryl nodded.

Beth washed her face and her teeth and changed into her best nightgown with jittery hands.

She turned down the bed and paused. Did Daryl have a preferred side? There was no evidence of one. Oh well, he’d just have to move her if he wanted to.

Or should she not be in bed when he came in? Was that too… wanton?

She was being silly. She climbed in the side farthest from the door and lay back, smoothing her hair back.

And waited.

And waited.

She didn’t hear any movement in the hall. She sighed.

Beth had never had a very good sense of time, but it had been at least twenty minutes since she climbed into the bed.

It was rather comfortable now she thought about it, her nervousness dimmed by the wait. The pillow was not at all lumpy, the sheets were soft…

Within five minutes, without meaning to, Beth drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Daryl woke up early the next morning, moved efficiently through his morning chores and headed into town.

He was the first one in the Pharmacy as Dale Horvath turned the sign to ‘open’, and first in the bank too. The town was starting to show real signs of life as he walked into the General store.

Gregory didn’t work the counter of his own place, but Daryl didn’t think much of Mark Simon standing in front of him either.

“The Greene account,” Daryl demanded shortly.

“Heard you got hitched,” the man said, pulling up a heavy ledger book. “Your woman got you by the purse strings already, huh?”

Daryl narrowed his eyes and pulled the ledger out of his hands, spinning it around to review himself.

He saw the amounts listed under Beth and Maggie’s family name, the outstanding amount growing and growing down the column, helped along by an amount annotated under each.

Daryl picked up the pencil from the table, crudely striking out the high interest Gregory had been charging on the owing amount.

“Hey, you can’t – “

“You’ll get 2% interest, that’s it,” Daryl told him.

He was glad he’d decided to do this by himself. He had only intended to pay outstanding accounts quietly, to save the girls the indignity of it all, but now he saw the interest the ‘community’ was charging on lines of credit – well, sometimes being a scary, scowly man was more advantageous than being a pretty, young woman.

Simon pursed his lips but didn’t protest – which told Daryl that he knew what Gregory had been trying was extortion.

Daryl did some quick calculations, but math wasn’t his strong suit. He shoved the book back to Simon and watched the man sum up the new total. It was about what Daryl had thought, so he slapped a wad of bank notes on the counter.

“Receipt.”

Simon started hastily scribbling, but seems he couldn’t help but take a final stab.

“Who woulda thought it? Daryl Dixon, gone soft.”

Daryl rolled his shoulders, letting his vest pull back to reveal his holstered pistol.

“Now, what kinda fool’d go around spreadin’ a rumour like that?” he asked slowly.

Daryl might not be as bloodthirsty as the rumour mill suggested – based in no small part on his deceased brother’s mischief – but he was more than capable of hurting someone who pissed him off.  

Simon’s eyes widened and he quickly sorted the cash, leaving a couple of coins on the counter in change.

Daryl picked all but one penny up, grabbing two penny candies off the bowl on the counter before heading out.

***

When Daryl got home, Beth was in the kitchen stirring a pot of oatmeal.

“Sorry, thought I might be back before you were up an’ at ‘em,” he apologised, taking off his hat and smoothing his too-long hair.

“That’s ok,” she said with an easy smile. Daryl could get used to seeing that every time he came home. “I wanted to get up in time to help you with chores, but seems like you’re quite the early bird.”

“You don’t have ta, I’m used to doin’ it alone,” he assured her.

“I want to. This is my home too now, and I should contribute. I’m not scared of a little hard work.”

Daryl liked that – a good work ethic showed character, that’s what he’d found out as an adult.

“Besides, I like the horses better than most of the bar flies at my old job.”

Yet another thing Daryl was pleased about, that Beth wouldn’t work at the saloon anymore. It was rare for women to work, outside of their husband’s businesses, but he wouldn’t tell her how to live her life. Luckily, she had been more than happy to tell Negan she was done.

But that reminded Daryl-

“Here, lemme show you the safe.”

Daryl beckoned her back to the main bedroom. The bed was neatly made with a new blanket with various shades of green spread across the foot. He did not let his eyes linger on his bed Beth had slept in the night before.

He moved a trunk, revealing the door of the safe he’d installed himself in the floor.

“20… 14… 4… 12,” he spoke aloud as he spun the little wheel. The safe unlocked with a satisfying click. Inside was stacks of bank notes, some raw gold and some coins, as well as papers like the deed to the property. Not all his money was here, but there was plenty to last them a few years.

He grabbed an assortment of notes and coins and handed them to Beth. He had to nudge her hand to grasp the offering, jolting her out of her stunned look.

“For groceries and clothes and… I dunno, womanly things,” he said.

Beth let out a burst of laughter.

“Just, buy whatever,” he insisted. “And help yourself whenever you need more.”

He shut the safe, then a hand covered his on the handle.

“Thank you Daryl.”

***  

Beth was dusting in the sunroom, not because the room really needed it, but so she could get to know the house and its contents better. It was late afternoon and she’d start supper soon… it was so nice not having to trek into the saloon.

Movement caught her eye. Daryl was headed back to the house, having been running horses around the pen for training most of the afternoon. It was a hot day, and he’d taken his shirt off.

He didn’t see her through the window, partly obscured as she was. He stopped at the foot of the porch and took his hat off, wiping his sweaty brow. The shirt he carried was dropped on the boards and he picked up the pitcher of water she’d taken out for him earlier and poured it over his head.

Beth bit her lip as she watched the water sluice down his naked torso. She could make out the scar from the wound that almost killed him, but it was the rest of it that had her entranced.

The water collected in lines that rolled down his pectorals, droplets clinging to the light hair there. The lines split across his firm stomach, disappearing into his waistband.

The arm he had raised over his head gave the pitcher a quick shake for the last droplets of liquid, and she followed the line of his forearm then corded bicep. She imagined that arm wrapping around her, pulling her close to his damp, hard chest.

Being that close would come with another kiss, longer than the one at their wedding. She’d loved the soft touch of lips, but a half-naked man that looked like her husband did right now, wouldn’t kiss chastely…

He shook his head and water sprayed around him like a star burst. It was enough to jolt Beth out of her lustful gawking. Though, she firmly reminded herself, there was no guilt or shame to be felt from admiring one’s husband.

Later, after he’d washed up and they were eating supper, she asked if he had plans to go to the saloon.

“Nah, I’ll stick around here.”

Beth smiled, remembering how he’d said he went to the saloon to see her.

“We could play cards? Or… if you have a normal routine, I’ll just read, or I have some embroidery…” Beth asked. She knew him to be a solitary man, and didn’t want to be a pest.

They ended up sitting at the dining table while Daryl taught her to cheat at cards, stacking the deck and dealing from underneath. He was a patient teacher, and Beth especially liked when he guided her fingers with his own.

She’d changed to his side of the table and dragged her chair so close she’d made a quasi-bench with her thigh pressing against Daryl’s. He was stealing lots of glances at her as she moved the cards, and he swayed close enough once or twice that she thought – hoped – she might get another kiss.

“Use yer thumb, here…” Daryl coaxed, adjusting Beth’s grip.

“Mmmm, alright… like, this?”

Beth laughed in delight as she pulled off the card flip Daryl had been coaching her through. They turned to each other at the same time and the movement brought their lips only a few inches apart…

But Daryl abruptly rose, muttering about something under his breath. He went to his jacket and produced two lollies, the kind Maggie and her used to spend their allowance on, which softened Beth’s frustration of him dodging away from her yet again.

“Actually, it’s getting late…” Beth said, though it couldn’t be much past 8. “I’m going to get ready… for bed.”

She tried to make her look pointed, but in an appealing way, not scornful… she probably ended up looking constipated.

But again, Beth washed and changed into her best nightgown, and waited.

And still, Daryl did not step foot in the room.

She smoothed the crochet blanket she’d spread across the bed. Her marriage bed.

Beth knew what to expect – mostly. She wasn’t a stranger to her own body, though it had only been recently that she’d become so… aware of its needs.

But she knew she was sick of all the anticipation.

When Beth emerged in her dressing gown, Daryl was sitting on the worn leather lounge, staring into the empty fireplace. He sat up straight as she padded out.

“Everythin’ alright?”

“You… you don’t plan to sleep in our bed?” Beth asked him, in a small voice.

Daryl looked truly puzzled, like it hadn’t occurred to him that she’d ever bring it up.

“I thought… you’d want yer own room,” he said haltingly.

“Don’t you want to…” she started, unsure. “I mean, we’re married now. I thought you might want to…”

Daryl was already shaking his head. Beth’s stomach dipped with heavy disappointment.

“You don’t gotta – I ain’t gonna make you have se-“ Daryl cut himself off. He stood up abruptly, but made sure the lounge was still in-between them.

“Look, you got your own room here and I’m not gonna force you to sleep with me or nothin’. I don’t got any expectations for that.”

Beth tilted her head thoughtfully, even as a hopeful sense of relief relaxed her shoulders.

He was being honourable – fool man, too honourable for either of their own good.

She took quick stock of their relationship so far, from when he tried to give her money with no strings attached the night he asked her to marry him, to today. He’d given her access to a fortune in his safe. He’d kept her company, but given her space and privacy. He’d refrained from touching her, even when she touched him first.

It all painted a man who was trying to protect Beth, like a brother.

Only, she was quite sure Daryl didn’t feel ‘brotherly’ towards her. So, he probably wanted her, wanted to have intercourse with her.

So, she would need to set the record straight about her feelings on the matter.

“Well,” she said, walking towards Daryl slowly but with purpose. “I do have expectations. I expect my husband in our marriage bed.”

He watched her cautiously, but let her take his hand.

And lead him into the bedroom.

Chapter Text

Beth only let go of Daryl’s hand once she was standing a foot from the bed. She pulled the tie of her dressing gown, shedding the material and letting it drape over the wooden bed end.

She stepped up to Daryl, placing a hand flat against his chest. He watched her every move with shallow breath.

She slowly undid the top three buttons of his shirt and let her hand slip inside, resting against his warm skin over his heart.  She shuffled closer and place her other hand on his shoulder, using it as leverage as she raised to her tip toes.

At the last moment, he moved to meet her in a kiss.

His lips moved against hers and she tentatively copied his movements. Beth breathed in sharply when she felt the first tentative touch of his hand on her cheek, so gently cradling her face that she wanted to cry. Their kiss remained soft but full of feeling, almost consuming.

Beth faltered slightly on her tip toes, taking a half step forward to catch herself while not separating their lips. Daryl compensated the inch she lost, keeping their lips pressed together and nipping gently at her bottom lip. The adjustment also pushed her much closer to Daryl, and through her thin cotton nightgown, she could feel the remaining buttons of his shirt, the buckle of his belt, and-

Oh!

Daryl seemed to realise what she was feeling a moment later and stepped back, breaking their kiss with a smack.

Daryl’s eyes were wide – and though his pupils were blown, dark with arousal, he also had a hunted look about him that scared Beth into thinking he was going to bolt.

She took his hands silently, moving his cooperative form with her until the back of her thighs were pressed against the side of the mattress and he was standing right in front of her. She wanted to even the playing field a little, so undid the top buttons of her own nightgown.

Daryl watched with hunger before he swallowed heavily and looked imploringly into her eyes.

“Doya know…”

Beth nodded shyly. “Maggie told me.”

“She tell you that you don’t have to do anythin’ at all, nothin’ you don’t want to do?” he urged.

Again, Beth nodded, but with a smile now. “Yeah. She told me to knee you between your legs if you peeved me.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, not at all refined, but it made Beth light up.

His fingertip traced down her neck, soft like a tickle. His fingers came to a stop on the buttons of her nightgown. He undid two more buttons so the material was split to beneath her bosom.  He pushed the material aside with the back of his hand, revealing the inside of her left breast. She knew her nipples were hard, and in a moment, would be exposed to Daryl’s eyes. She shivered.

He swallowed audibly and let his knuckles brush her sternum, but withdrew.

“Have you done this before?” she whispered.

“Yeah, but… not with someone like you,” he murmured quietly back.

“Like me?”

Daryl bit his lip. “Deserve it… gentle. To feel good, nothin’ but good…”

Suddenly Daryl’s eyes flicked up, and a new resolve set in his face.

“Doya trust me to try somethin’? You can kick me off if you don’t like it,” he asked.

Beth nodded eagerly.

“Si’down,” he said softly, guiding her hips so she was sat on the bed. He kneeled in front of her, so for once she was looking down at him.

“It won’t hurt none,” he promised. “You ever touch yerself?”

Beth immediately flushed red, out-hueing Daryl’s pink complexion. He asked so directly! Daryl seemed to think it was amusing.

“C’mon girl, you lead me in here all gung-ho about a ‘marriage bed’ and you get all shy about playin’ with yer peach?” he teased, rubbing her hip absent-mindedly.

Though a part of Beth was mortified at the idea of discussing such a thing (she’d never even talked to Maggie about that!), she was immediately addicted to this affectionate, playful husband she was getting a glimpse of.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“Yeah what?” His thumb was slowly pulling the material up her thigh.

“Yes, I… touch myself,” she whispered quietly enough that if Daryl hadn’t been inches away from her, he might not have heard it.

He made a sound deep from his chest, not unlike a cat purring. He took two handfuls of cotton and pulled. Beth’s breathing became uneven as her knees were exposed, then the bottom of her thighs.

“Relax. Lean back…” he whispered.

Beth extended her arms behind her, sweaty palms on the quilt so she could hold herself up.

Daryl shuffled forward and a moment later, she was exposed.

A slight tremor went through her and she dampened the urge to clench her thighs together and push him away. If he wanted to… get acquainted? With that part of her before they made love, she would allow it.

His warm hands smoothed down the outside of her thighs down to her knees, leaving a trail of fire behind them. He held her knees – his hands spanning their whole width – and pushed, spreading her legs to him.

Beth let out a little gasp, her legs tensing. She frantically searched his face for – she wasn’t quite sure what, disgust? Disappointment?

But she found nothing but hazy lust, his eyes narrowed and focused on her centre. He moved like he was being drawn there and inhaled deeply.

Beth looked to the ceiling, overwhelmed.

When fingers parted her lips and a digit ran up her slick flesh to the crest of her sex, and brushed over the sensitive bud there, she clenched her eyes shut.

Shoulders bumped her legs, pushing them wider as Daryl made space for himself. His finger circled around her sweet spot, making her throb.

A moment later, the feel of his tongue on her made her gasp sharply, loud enough for Daryl to draw back and look up at her. She stared at him in shock, her mouth moving like a fish out of water.

Daryl held eye contact as he slowly lowered his head again. Beth’s breathing was erratic and her arms shook at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue pressed against her sensitive flesh. Shock was quickly giving way to pleasure and with another flick of Daryl’s tongue, her leg twitched. He pulled her knee quickly over his shoulder so her calf was draped across his back.

Daryl’s tongue was drawing tight little circles across her now, and she could feel herself getting wetter. She dearly hoped Daryl wouldn’t mind, because she didn’t want him to stop.

Sizzles of pleasure ran from her core up to her belly and down her legs. At one sharp throb, inspired by a hard, broad lick that covered her whole bud, she let herself drop onto her back, fists coming over her head to clutch at the bedding.

Suddenly his tongue, pointed til it was stiff, fluttered over her nub and she cried out.

“Ooohhh-“ she cut off the desperate sound, but her hips twitched instinctively forward, chasing the wicked sensation.

Daryl grunted from between her legs, hoisting her other knee over his shoulder and rapidly fluttering his tongue across her sweet spot again.

“Ah! D-Daryl,” she gasped.

Hot waves swelled in her centre – pleasure she’d never felt, completely out of her control. She was at its mercy – at her husband’s mercy, an instrument being played by his clever tongue.

It crashed over her, forcing out squeaky moans she’d never heard from her own mouth before. Everything in her clenched at the assault, including her thighs around Daryl’s head. In that moment, she had no thought for his wellbeing, only to keep his mouth and tongue at her service.

Which they were – his tongue pressed against her, drawing out the shivery sensations. She let out a half-moan half-sigh as the feelings started to abate. She loosened her legs, which jostled over Daryl’s moving shoulders.

She blinked at the ceiling and heard bells.

***

Daryl pulled desperately and clumsily at his belt buckle, the metal clinking. He had to release himself before his dick split the seam of his damn trousers.

He’d never been this hard, his vision blurred from the heat pumping through his veins.

The weight of her legs over his shoulders.

The echo of her moans in his ears.

The taste of her arousal in his mouth.

He finally took himself in hand and the feeling punched the air from his lungs.

Like a wild thing, he panted over her slit as he jerked himself. In a matter of seconds, and with a bitten-off groan, he was done. He let himself spill over the floor but allowed himself the indulgence of rubbing his cheek against the skin of the inside of her thigh.

He could do this. In fact, it was more than he’d dreamed she’d let him have.

He could satisfy her desires. Every few nights, she might call on him to answer her urges. He’d come when called, leave her wanting for nothing.

For however long this lasted.

Chapter Text

 “How are you doing, really?”

Maggie had walked out to the house that morning to collect Beth and walk her into town for some shopping. It was a bit silly, Beth could have just met her at the apartment, and she knew most of Maggie’s motivation was probably to check out the house and look for any clues that Beth might be anything but completely content and safe.

But Beth had never gone so long without seeing her sister, and knew Maggie must be worried and missing her too, so she did not complain. And the extra time walking arm in arm through the sunny morning was welcome.

“Good, really good Maggie,” she said, squeezing her arm with a comforting smile.

“And the wedding night?” Maggie pressed. “Was he too rough? If he was you just tell me, and I’ll-“

“No, no! It was…” Beth decided to skip over the fact that she had been the instigator for their intimacy. “The opposite. He’s so gentle with me.”

Beth let out a dreamy sigh.

“Hmm. Who would have thought?” Maggie muttered.

Beth bit her lip, debating whether to bring the next thing up. But she had questions, and perhaps sharing them with Maggie first would give her insight before raising with her non-talkative husband?

“He didn’t… you know,” Beth started, but Maggie looked at her blankly. “He… used his mouth?”

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up.

“And I have no complaints! It was…. Wow.”

Beth still felt partly in a daze from the feelings he’d given her – twice.

“But… I suppose it means we haven’t consummated our marriage?”

As wonderful as the night had been, Beth was still unsure why her husband had not sought his own satisfaction, and why she had once again gone to sleep and woken up alone.

“Maybe he has trouble in that area? I’ve heard stories of men not able to get it up.”

“No! I’ve… felt it,” she blushed. “He definitely can.”

“Then I don’t know honey, maybe he’s been tired or something, or he’s afraid of disappointing you?”

“Maybe, he does work really hard. He woke up early this morning and fixed me breakfast. He even pulled some dandelions from the garden and put them in a vase as flowers.”

“Seems like everything is working out pretty well? I wouldn’t worry about it. If he’s got issues, he can deal with it.”

Beth’s lips thinned a bit. He was her husband, she wanted to share his burdens. But it wasn’t Maggie she should be saying that to.

Reaching the General Store was distraction enough for the topic to drop. The bell chimed over head as they entered. The only other customer was Mrs Grimes, the Sheriff’s wife. She nodded cordially and kept shopping.

Maggie grabbed a small sack of potatoes and indicated to Beth to grab some flour. It was a small shop, but Maggie approached the counter with all the money she had saved up for the week, including the leftover of Beth’s salary Beth had forcibly left with her the day she moved out.

“Mrs Dixon,” the young attendant greeted Beth with a respectful nod, which gave her a little thrill.

 “Just these for me, and I’d like to pay some off my account,” Maggie told the boy.

He flipped through the large ledger, coming to Greene.

“Ah… there’s nothing outstanding on your account Miss Greene.”

The girls looked down simultaneously at the book. At the end of the column, underneath the mounting numbers that haunted them was a ‘0’.

Beth knew immediately what must have happened.

But when would he have had time?

The morning after their wedding. He had gone out early…

“It’s ah, 25 cents,” the boy said of the flour and potatoes.

Maggie handed over the coins with a blank look and they left wordlessly, both deep in thought.

Instead of turning to the apartment, Maggie walked towards the bank instead.

“Mags…” Beth had to jog to keep up.

Maggie walked straight towards the manager’s office – unfortunately they were both aware of the way, having met multiple times about loan repayments and debt consolidation.

“Miss Greene, and Mrs Dixon! My congratulations on your recent matrimony,” the manager Mr Morgan said with a happy grin. It was odd, seeing him smile. They were so used to seeing him sombre.

“Um, I need to adjust my loan repayments,” Maggie said, her voice a little hoarse.

Mr Morgan frowned in confusion.

“I might have ah,” Maggie cleared her throat. “A bit more disposable income, so I can pay it down a little quicker.”

“Miss Greene,” Mr Morgan took a seat behind the desk, not reaching for the dreaded ledger. “Your loans have been paid in full.”

Both girls looked at him with wide eyes, silent. He tilted his head.

“Mr Dixon – your husband – paid us a visit some days ago and settled the amounts. Did you… not know?”

Maggie shook her head, pinching her lips.

Beth’s chest swelled with emotion. Without a word, Daryl had taken care of everything.

She heard Maggie take in a shaky breath, and turned to find her eyes glassy and blinking rapidly.

“I’m so sorry, would it be possible for us to have the room, just for a few minutes?” Beth asked the manager.

“Of course,” Mr Morgan respectfully nodded and slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

As soon as they were alone, Maggie slumped forward, hiding her face in her hands as she let out a sob.

Beth’s arm came around her, even as she felt tears welling out of her own eyes. So much had been on Maggie’s shoulders since their daddy got sick. She’d sheltered Beth as best she could, but the worry, the sleepless nights, the extra shifts had weighed heavily on the young woman and aged her in spirit. To be free of it now, must feel like Atlas releasing his worldly burden.

Beth held her sobbing sister.

She loved Daryl for that.

Chapter Text

It was late afternoon when Beth called him inside, saying the afternoon light was best to cut his hair. She had only to gesture and he was sitting in a dining chair in the backroom with a sheet wrapped around him, Beth’s hands carding through his hair.

He felt like a cat being pet by his mistress, soothed into a stupor by the feel of her fingers against his scalp and neck.

Well, not a stupor. He was hard.

He hadn’t been this randy since he was a teenager, and he’d never been as big a slave to sex as other men. The longest amount of time he’d spent with a woman had been Hanola, 20 years older than him and though sex had been part of it (she had been a very thorough teacher), his favourite part of their relationship had been their familiarity, how easy it was to be around each other.

So he had little armour against the constant onslaught of lust and attraction from his wife. And combined with a similar kind of easy intimacy, where just being around her was soothing and exciting at the same time…

Daryl wasn’t a romantic, he’d seen way too much of the world to be anything but brutally realistic. Maybe that was why it felt so disarming to be in love.

After a little while, the snip of scissors stopped and it was just Beth combing his hair, tugging at the ends to make sure it was all even. She blew against his neck, probably to dislodge stray clippings. He shivered.

A moment passed with no movement, then he felt the gentle press of her lips against the side of his neck.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He was hoping she’d come to him again soon to take care of her.

He pulled off the sheet – he could sweep up later – and Beth was already reaching for him, kissing him soundly on the mouth.

“Want it now?” he whispered against her lips.

She let out a short moan, which turned his guts to liquid fire.

“Yes, please,” she whimpered back.

He lifted her effortlessly, tiny thing she was, and walked her back to the old chaise where he planted her in the middle.

“Here?” she gasped, even as her legs fell open.

“Shit girl, it’s our house. Can do it wherever we like.”

She was wearing a lot more fabric now compared to her night clothes, but eventually they yanked up her chemise and he was able to slide down her bloomers to see his prize.

She let out a cry of ecstasy as he buried his face in her lap and got to work, pulling no punches as he licked her cunt and flicked her pretty pink clit.

Maybe one day, when he got the nerve to force out the words, he’d ask her if she’d like to try it slow, drawn out and teased until she gushed all over his chin and begged him to let her cum. But for now, he’d deliver what she was expecting – just, not too fast.

But she was so damn responsive, her hips doing those cute little twitches like she wanted to grind up on his face but was too much a lady to do it. Her clit quickly swelled and slick almost trickled out of her.

He lathed her bud with his tongue and circled her entrance with one finger.

“Mm-mmm hngh… P-please,” she panted, lifting her hips a little.

Daryl took it as permission to slip his finger into her – not too deep, just one – and the way she clamped down on him almost made his eyes roll back in his head.

God, what it would feel like to be in that heat properly –

Daryl savagely cut that thought off. He crooked his finger, letting it pull ever so slightly against her rim, but focused back on sucking and licking her throbbing little bean.

It was next to no time – Daryl almost mourned – before she was gasping out a long, sultry moan and cumming on his mouth.

He could feel it pulsing through her and snuck in a few extra hard licks to make her thighs shake before she got over sensitive and he had to stop.

Daryl listened intently, wanting to memorise all her sounds, including the high, reedy little breaths as she came down from her peak. He pulled away, aware he was sweating under her slipping skirts and licked his lips.

“You have a very, very clever mouth, husband,” she panted, rosy cheeked and happy.

He couldn’t help the self-satisfied little smirk that praise inspired.

He picked up her bloomers, using the leg to wipe his face.

“Don’t gotta wear this stuff y’know, if you don’t want,” he said, shaking the frilly little thing as Beth sat up. He sat next to her on the chaise.

“Mmmm, it would save time I suppose. Or if we wanted, we could walk around in just our underthings,” Beth giggled.

Daryl breathed a short laugh. He didn’t think he would get much done if Beth were dancing around the house in sheer cotton.

“But I suppose it would be distracting,” Beth continued, nudging his thigh with her leg. “I’ve never seen a naked man before. Aside from you.”

Daryl’s eyebrows shot up.

“I mean, when you were hurt!” Beth continued. “I took off your shirt. And I saw your legs too, but not your- oh, gosh…”

Beth bit her own lip to stop her runaway mouth, and Daryl grinned.

“Can… can I see?” she asked tentatively, looking up at him with unintentional coyness.

Goddam. She was curious, it was natural… and he sure as shit didn’t want her going to someone else with this kind of ask.

“’spose I’ve seen yers, ‘s fair…” Daryl mumbled, shier than he could ever remember being before.

He undid his belt and unfastened enough buttons to ease down his trousers. His erection curved up to his stomach, flushed red with a shiny head.

Beth hung on his shoulder, staring down. He squirmed under her attention, not sure where to go next.

Beth’s hand trailed down his shoulder, onto his chest and downward. Her nails trailed down his stomach.

“Wow,” she breathed. The combination of her breath on his shoulder and tickle of her nails over his skin (as well as her impressed noise) made him twitch.

“You done lookin’, cause I gotta take care of business ‘fore my balls turn blue,” he grunted.

“Oh!” Beth exclaimed, looking up at him with concern. “Do they…”

“Nah not really, just… uncomfortable,” he told her.

“Of course! Um, should I…”

Beth lay back, hiking her skirts again. It was like a blow to the gut, Beth so readily offering herself to him.

“No ah, you don’t gotta. I’ll ah… just go to the bath…”

Daryl tugged up his pants and ran away like a coward, afraid that if he turned back, he’d fall into her and lose himself and the promise that he’d made – that he wouldn’t do anything that would trap her here any longer than she wanted to be here.

Chapter Text

It was an awkward dinner, Beth quieter than he was used to. It was eating Daryl up inside. He knew it was probably about that afternoon, but he didn’t know what to apologise for.

“You ok?” he asked, pushing the beans around on his plate.

Beth nodded absent-mindedly, but put down her knife and fork next to her own mostly untouched food.

“We need to talk.”

Daryl’s heart clenched. It was way too soon! She couldn’t be sick of him already. He thought she’d been happy…

“I want to discuss our… consummation,” she said nervously, not quite able to meet his eyes.

Daryl nodded his head once, throat too constricted to speak.

“We haven’t… Obviously, you know that…” she muttered under her breath, before taking a deep breath. “And I wanted to check – is… is something wrong?”

Confusion pierced his blind but silent panic.

“Is it – something wrong with me? Maybe you were expecting me to be different…” she asked, her voice cracking a little like she was holding back tears.

Daryl could have taken himself out back and pulled the trigger. That’s what she was thinking? That he wasn’t desperate just to be around her, that every touch was a privilege?

“No, no no – yer perfect Beth,” Daryl rushed to assure her. Her lower lip wobbled.

Daryl pushed his chair back hastily with a loud scrape and rounded the table. He dragged Beth’s chair back too, dropped to his knees and gripped the seat of the chair either side of her.

“I want that out of yer head right now. Yer fuc- yer gorgeous and sweet. Wouldn’t change a thing about you,” Daryl told her, wishing he had more words to make her feel special and treasured.

But still, Beth looked hesitant.

“I – thank you, but… do you…”

Daryl hooked one finger under her chin, gently tilting her head up to look at him.

“You drive me crazy, girl.”

Beth’s lashes fluttered and Daryl thought perhaps he’d fixed it, that she’d let him kiss her and prove to her how desirable she was. But then her expression cleared.

“Then… Why won’t you have sex with me?”

Daryl let his hand drop from her face, along with his eyes.

“What do you call what we’ve been doin’?”

Beth shook her head insistently. “That’s all about me. What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me-”

“But I do!” Beth exploded. She took a calming breath. “Not worry, but… I want you to do things you enjoy too.”

“I get plenty out of it,” he growled. He wasn’t a hugely expressive man, but had spilling at her feet and leaking under her gaze just this afternoon given the impression that he hadn’t enjoyed himself?

“Daryl.”

Her tone told him that she was tired and wanted a plain answer.

Alright. No getting around it then.

“Just… if we ‘have sex’,” he echoed her words, keeping his usual baser slang to himself. “It’s… permanent.”

She looked at him like he was dull. “We’re married,” she reminded him.

Naive girl. Like a signed document and a vow in a church from a desperate woman would be enough to keep her tied to him forever.

“You could get pregnant.”

Beth’s eyebrows were pulled together in confusion.

“But, that’s ok? We’re married…” she repeated. “Unless… did you not want children?”

She looked scared now, but for the wrong reasons.

Daryl shook his head. “’S not that – dunno I’d be a good daddy, but… you can’t undo a kid.”

Beth tilted her head, waiting for further explanation.

“You get pregnant and… it’s harder to leave. I’ve seen it, happened to my mama,” he told her.

Daryl’s daddy had been a mean drunk, rough as guts and treated his mama like dirt. She’d been from a real poor family but maybe, just maybe, she might have got out if she hadn’t gotten pregnant so quick with his brother Merle, then him. Her family couldn’t take in her and two kids and rather than starve, she’d been forced to stay with her bum husband.

“If you want out of this thing, you can go back to yer sister and no one would blame you,” Daryl said through gritted teeth. He wanted to do everything in his power to stop that happening, but if she wanted to go, he’d let her.

“But you have babies… givin’ birth can go wrong, and they cost a lot and… Yer already stuck with me for a while, don’t want you to have to stay cause you got kids and yer… trapped.”

Beth had tears in her eyes again. Goddammit, he couldn’t do anything right!

“Oh, Daryl…” she breathed, cupping his cheek. Like a reflex, Daryl tilted into her soft hold.

“I am not ‘stuck’ with you, Daryl Dixon. I’m not going to run away. I promised the rest of my life to you because I wanted to. We were meant to be.”

It almost hurt to hear. He wanted that to be the truth, so badly…

“And let me tell you – I don’t mind spending my life proving to you that I’m right. But for right now? I am not made of glass. I am not near as delicate as you seem to think. I want whatever you have to give – babies, bad moods, your worries and doubts. Your whole self Daryl Dixon. I am your wife.”

He didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with Beth Greene- Beth Dixon. But here he was, tumbling down down down.

His vision of her blurred and he realised with some shock that he had tears in his eyes, fogging them up. He blinked rapidly and one weak tear slipped down his cheek, which Beth brushed away lovingly with her thumb.

“So take me, as your wife.”

Daryl shivered.

“Girl, you have no idea how much…

He didn’t have words – never did – to tell her what this meant to him. But she seemed to understand, and leaned close enough that their noses were touching.

“Show me.”

Chapter Text

Beth didn’t take her eyes off Daryl as she unbuttoned the front of her dress. His eyes darted over her – her face, her hands, the modest cleavage now on display. They were watchful, ever searching for a sign of distress or reluctance in her.

He would find none.

In a moment, she stood before him in a chemise – just a chemise, she had done away with bloomers like he’d suggested the other day. She knew the material was translucent, and he would almost certainly be able to make out her nipples and see the shadow of a triangle between her legs.

His movements stuttered as he took her in, lingering flatteringly on her chest. While she didn’t want to rush this, she was rather eager to have them both bare and in bed.

So Beth moved closer, finishing off the shirt buttons Daryl had still done up. She greedily took in the ripple of his muscles as he shucked the shirt, letting it fall carelessly to the floor of the bedroom. She took care of his belt, pulling it out of the loops before she took a moment to indulge herself, touching the warm skin of his stomach.

She didn’t really know what she was doing, if this was even something that would feel good, but she dropped a light kiss to Daryl’s clavicle, right in the dip of his collar bone.

She scraped her nails and palms down his chest, smiling to herself as he shuddered, his nipples pebbling. He had a few scars, but she let her hand linger over the newest, the scar from the bullet wound she’d tended.

With a sudden urge, Beth went down to one knee so that she could kiss the thin pink line.

“Fuck-“ Daryl let slip the curse, fumbling the buttons at his fly he’d been working on.

She switched her focus, her mouth opening in an ‘o’ at the tented fabric. It was the closest she’d been to his manhood, including the one time he’d let her look at him. She was eager to study it in closer detail.

She looked up at Daryl to seek his permission, hands hovering over the buttons.

“Christ girl, yer gonna be the end of me,” he panted. “Onto the bed with you.”

His hands enclosed her shoulders, guiding her up. He moved her to the side of the bed then, with just one instants hesitation, gripped the material of her garment at the waist.

With her eager nod, he pulled it over her head.

“Damn,” he whispered, hands returning tenderly to her naked waist, thumbs rubbing over her skin. It was thrilling, and scary, to be standing there completely exposed. Certainly, he’d seen the most intimate part of her up close, but to be studied in her entirety like this made her stomach swirl with nerves.

“Prettiest fuckin’ thing,” he murmured, before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue immediately licked into her mouth, possessing her. She let out a moan, and knew she wasn’t imagining the sound spurring him on, her back bowing slightly as he pressed into her.

Daryl released her lips abruptly, refocusing himself on hurriedly getting rid of his pants.

She scrambled quickly backwards into the centre of the bed, the pillows at her shoulders, breathing heavily and waiting impatiently for him to join her.

Finally he climbed onto the bed, stretching directly over her. He took her mouth again, but hovered high enough above her to deprive her of the feeling of their skin pressed together.

She ran her hands up and down his back, pulling gently to tell him it was ok to lay on her. He settled down on his left side, still hovering partway over her.

The hand at her waist trailed up, tickling her pleasantly, until it stopped right under her breast. Daryl looked down as he raised the slightly trembling hand over her breast. His hand cradled the curve of it, his thumb brushing over her nipple.

They each simultaneously let out a sigh. Beth watched his dark eyes track over the movement of his hand, even as it dipped back down lower than her waist.

He cupped her mound before his fingers gently parted her, dipping inside. His thumb traced over her pearl as his middle finger circled her entrance.

“Kiss me,” she breathed, and a second later Daryl was stealing the rest of the breath from her lungs.

His fingers moved easily through her slickness, his thicker finger fitting snuggly inside her. Nimble movements massaged her in the best ways and her eyes fluttered closed as she lost herself in the sensation.

Daryl’s chin hair tickled her throat as he moved down. His tongue laved a teasing trail over her chest until he kissed the rosy tip. His hand continued it’s miraculous work between her legs, pausing only to tentatively press a second finger into her.

Beth was gasping, her hands coming to the back of his head to encourage the caressing strokes of his tongue that were sending hot, shivery streaks all through her body. She felt his fingers move, pushing more insistently. She was certain she’d never been this… full before. It was a different kind of overwhelming from when Daryl had brought her to her peak with his tongue before – the radiating pleasure from his rubbing of her sweet spot was similar, but the feel of him inside her, stretching her… it was intense, and she felt tears prick at her eyes from the emotion of it. But there was no fear.

 Nerves ratcheted up however, when Daryl shifted, moving between her legs so it was his stiff, flushed manhood pressing against her instead of his hand.

She bit her lip as he guided it over her lips, wetness clinging to the already shiny head.

“Fuck,” he cursed roughly and unexpectedly pulled back.

He shot down, burying his face in her core.

Beth couldn’t help the moan punched out of her as he licked her but scrambled to grab his shoulders.

“Wait, wai- ahhh. We – were going to…”

A particularly well-placed and firm wriggle of his tongue made her eyes roll back and stole the words out of her mouth.

Daryl raised his head, lips shining. “Girl at this rate, I’m gonna last three pumps. Let me get you there first.”

She didn’t know quite what he meant, but he was as close to pleading as she’d ever seen him, so she nodded and carded her fingers through his hair as he dipped back down.

He pushed his fingers into her again, thrusting them roughly and crooking them inside of her as he lavished her most sensitive spot with attention. It was the most frantic he’d ever been between her legs and she fed off his desperation, driving her hips up.

Every one of her breaths came with half a cry and her legs started to shake. It was animalistic, rough but in all the right ways. No longer did she feel like porcelain, but like a wild thing, clawing at her lover, her teeth bared. She felt the crest coming and pushed herself into his face, gasping in anticipation-

Then abruptly, he stopped.

“No,” she whined, instinctively pushing down on his shoulders to get him back to position, to give her what his tongue had promised.

“Darlin’, you still want it?” Daryl whispered against her lips, shining with her own essence. His hips were pressed against hers and the arousal that was fogging Beth’s brain cleared enough to understand.

Yeah,” she nodded, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Hurry…”

***

Daryl was barely holding it together. He was so aroused it hurt, an ache he welcomed if it was going to stop him from cumming before he could even complete the act Beth wanted.

He bit his lip savagely as he guided himself to her soaking entrance, breathing erratically through his nose. The way Beth’s legs were tugging him, he barely had the space to line himself up, but then he pushed and the head of his cock was inside.

He stilled his hips, shaking with the effort.

Beth let out a little oh, and Daryl focused all his attention on watching her face, trying to ignore the sensation of her hot walls squeezing him as he tilted forward another inch. Any hint of pain, so much as a wince, and he’d stop.

Beth’s eyes fluttered before they met his own. They were shiny with unshed tears.

Daryl felt the swoop of guilt through his gut. “Yer hurtin’-“ he started, ashamed. He should have spent longer stretching her, hours getting her ready, not a quick and dirty fingering just to –

“No, it’s like… a stretch,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t stop. Please.”

The heels of her feet nudged the back of his thighs and he edged deeper. It was like hot silk, like fucking heaven.

Daryl let his forehead drop to Beth’s, arms trembling as he settled in her, every part of her hugging him.

“Daryl,” she sighed, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Her hazel eyes looked up at him with so much wonder, trust, maybe love… he kissed her to stop himself from letting out a sob or another curse or a shout to whatever God existed to thank them for letting him have this.

He gave a shallow thrust, just a test, and she gasped against his mouth.

“Yesss,” she whispered, clenching around him.

Lord have mercy, she might as well have lit a match on a stick of dynamite. He thrust again, properly this time, letting her tight walls drag against him before bottoming out again in her heat. He tried to be gentle, to start a slow rhythm, but his girl’s wicked hands slipped down to clutch at his behind, pulling him in demandingly.

“Shit, girl,” he groaned, the feeling of her nails against his skin and wanton demand of the movement blazing through his veins like fire. “Killin’ me…”

A sultry moan answered his accusation and he all but slammed into her, restraint entirely frayed. The sound of their slapping flesh filled the room along with Beth’s high panting and Daryl’s exerted grunting. All to soon, as he feared, he was losing it.

He pushed in again but stayed, grinding against her parted lips.

“Ahhh! D-Daryl –“ Beth stuttered, grinding her own hips up in response and again clenching her muscles around him.

This was supposed to give him a small reprieve, grind against her clit to make her stumble over the edge first, but she was dragging him with her.

 “Darlin’ please,” he gasped against her cheek. “Get there, cum for me-“

He tried to adjust his weight – his damn arms weren’t working right, if he tried to free up a hand to rub her to her finish he might fall on her. She whimpered in frustration as she tried to twist her hips against him.

“Baby touch yerself, rub yer clit for me-“ he begged, resuming shallow thrusts.

Her hand slipped between them and he was momentarily filled with regret that he couldn’t see her delicate fingers slipping and rubbing over herself. She picked a ruthless pace for herself and he felt free to try and match it, his hips pistoning forward.

“That’s it, good girl,” he panted nonsense, before he lost his breath once more.

Within seconds she was wailing and her cunt clenched up like never before.

Daryl snarled at the sensation, her arm and leg tightening along with her insides as she came around his cock.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

He had to pull out. Her legs were surprisingly strong, wrapped around his hips and keeping him pressed to her. But he could feel it in his balls, he had seconds, if that.

“Fuck, gotta-“ he started pulling back.

“Don’t stop! Daryl!” she groaned shamelessly, still caught in the ripples of her orgasm and tightening her legs.

He was already cumming before the last bit of his name passed her lips.

“CHRIST!”

It was too late now, so he let instinct win and drove forward, shooting into her. He shuddered with the wave of pleasure that rushed through him, spreading through his groin to the tips of his toes and ears. His hips twitched as his balls emptied and all the remaining tension in his body melted away.

They both came slowly down, panting damply into the other’s skin. Their entire torsos were pressed together, Beth’s legs still loosely around Daryl and his softening member inside her. They physically couldn’t be closer - it was hot, sweaty bliss.

“Shouldn’t’a cum in you like that,” Daryl mumbled into her neck.

“Hush,” Beth sighed. “This is exactly what I wanted.”

Her voice was languid and her arm stroked up and down Daryl’s back in an absently comforting touch.

“Gonna squish you,” he said, grunting as he heaved himself off, slipping out of her and onto his back.

Beth grumbled adorably and allowed herself to be pulled over him, draped across his chest.

“So this is lovemaking,” Beth mused.

Daryl smiled at the ceiling at her wording. “Yep. Whaddya think?”

Beth made a thoughtful noise. “I wonder how married people get anything else done.”

It made Daryl chuckle, Beth’s head bouncing on his chest. She moved so her chin was resting on her hand, looking up at him fondly.

“You feel ok?” Daryl asked.

“Mmmm. A bit sore,” she admitted. “But wonderful.”

He started playing with the ends of her hair falling over her back. She stayed looking at him, with a funny little smile on her face.

“Whatcha thinkin’?” he asked.

Beth tilted her head and her smile widened slightly.

“That we’re going to be really happy.”

Daryl smiled and let his fingers slip over her skin, tickling her back.

“Think you might be right, wife.”

Chapter Text

Daryl was surprised by how much he liked being part of a proper family.

It came with frustrations and annoyances too.

Like when the new doctor finally set up in town, and Daryl and Maggie got into a shouting match where he ended up calling her stupid and telling her to ‘just take the damn bedroom already, Jesus’ and getting a day of silent treatment as his sister-in-law moved into the house.

And when two weeks later, she came home early to find Daryl fucking Beth on the back porch railing. That made for an awkward dinner.

Having a family also opened up his weak spots, his liability.

It wasn’t the first time an old pal of Merle’s had found his way to Woodbury to settle a score with his little brother.

Daryl heard the bang and Beth’s scream and had taken off across the yard before he’d fully processed the combination. He heard a man’s voice as he approached the porch and instinct clicked in.

Instead of barreling in as soon as possible, which he wanted so badly to do, he stepped almost silently across the boards, easing the back fly screen door open while he unholstered his weapon.

He knew every board that creaked in the house, so trod carefully up the hall, listening to the voices.

“… think a Dixon wouldn’t leave his things laying around where someone could take ‘em,” a rough voice growled. He heard Beth whimper and decided the man was signing his own death warrant.

Suddenly the man grunted, a sound of pain, and Daryl flung himself through the door, pistol aimed.

The man he’d never seen before was bent almost in half, cradling his groin as Beth backed up quickly. She spotted him and ran behind him, her face streaked with tears but otherwise unmarked.

Daryl let the man stumble backwards out the door before he shot, so his blood splattered across the dirt instead of their floor.

He might live. Probably not. Barely alive enemies told the stories that kept people scared of trying Daryl. But dead enemies didn’t come back, and now he had Beth…

“Lock yerself in the bedroom with the rifle and don’t come out til I say,” he instructed his wife. He’d have to check the man was alone before they went into town to get the Sheriff. If the man suffered until then, that wasn’t Daryl’s problem.

The next day, Daryl nailed in a rail for the rifle right by the front door and ordered enough wood to reinforce a panic room for Beth at the back of the house.

He got to share in the good parts of having a family as well. 

When Beth was um-ing and ah-ing over whether to step in as temporary nurse while the doctor’s assistant had her third baby, he, Maggie and Glenn joined forces to get her to go for it, and when he couldn’t walk her to work or home, he could trust that one of them would take care of his wife.

Once Gregory’s trouble caught up with him and the Sheriff came knocking on his door, he legged it out of town and Daryl gleefully shelled out the money for Maggie to take over the General store. He’d grumbled about the repayments she insisted on, and decided to take them in form of labour from Glenn – he was good with the horses, and Daryl couldn’t have taken on the extra stud without him.

But overall, family was a privilege.

Daryl remembered that every day, when he was greeted with a kiss by Beth at the door.

And when he stood up next to Glenn in the church and didn’t roll his eyes as the man started to cry when Maggie, arm in arm with Beth, walked down the aisle.

And when he cradled his tiny daughter in his arms, jiggling her round the kitchen while Beth snored on the lounge, hair and clothes in absolute disarray, looking exhausted but so, so wonderful.

“Now listen up,” he whispered down at the baby, who hiccoughed in reply. “Your mama’s an angel and I won’t have you saving up yer cryin’ and fussin’ for her. I’m yer Daddy, and I can take whatever you have to give and love you anyway, y’hear?”

She grunted and then an unholy sound erupted from her cloth-covered bottom.

“There’s a girl… Lord, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Daryl tip toed past his sleeping wife, pausing only briefly to throw her crocheted blanket over her prone form and drop a kiss on her forehead.