Bethyl {One-Shot Collection}

Georgia Heat

Big thanks to @buffygurl077 for the prompt! Sorry this took so long! I just couldn't decide how I wanted to go about writing it! But here it is! The others will be up ASAP! Leave me a vote and a comment if you like! Thanks! Luv you all!

-Kate

The unforgiving Georgia sun beat down on Daryl's back, searing red the light skin usually underneath his vest. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead and he wiped them away with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of grey dirt in their place. His throat burned, dried out as a result of hours digging graves, hauling bodies, and fence fortification, yet the work wasn't finished. It would never be finished. Daryl stopped digging and looked up from the dark hole that would soon hold another of his friends: his family. He looked to the row of bodies on the ground near the graves he, Glenn, and Ty had spent the majority of the day creating. Each lay wrapped in a newly bloodied sheet: they were almost unidentifiable in such positions. Almost. But Daryl knew who they were; he'd helped wrap them and bring them to the place they were lain: closer to, but not yet at rest, and he wouldn't quit working until they were. He scanned down the line, suppressing the pang of sadness he felt from each name that went through his head: David, Karen, Ryan (those poor girls, they're just kids), Patrick, Henry, T-Dog. . . Andrea. . . Daryl stopped and hastily turned back to digging, unable to continue running through all of the dead in his mind. Yet, as he dug further and further into the dark earth, Daryl found himself wandering back to more of them; one in particular. Lori. The wife of his closest friend, of all people. Daryl's heart hurt most of all for Rick and Carl, both to whom he'd grown so close over the years they'd known each other. He hadn't particularly liked Lori all the time, but she by no means deserved to die, especially not the way she did. Her death changed both Rick and Carl, and they'd likely never be the same again. Carl was colder, hardened. Among the graves they had finally finished was one for a young man that Carl had gunned down. The kid had surrendered. Daryl physically shook his head, willing the memory out. Rick, well, he'd been seeing things and hearing things since the day she died. He'd never tell anybody what he saw, but Daryl was pretty sure he could figure it out. It had been nearly six months and he was still just as withdrawn as the first day. Lil' Asskicker wasn't so tiny anymore and Rick had barely held her yet. Carol and Beth had been taking the most care of her. Now that he thought of it, it had been a while since he had seen the little one and he needed to get his mind off of all the recent carnage. He dropped his shovel next to the newly finished hole and made his way toward the stream just outside the fences to clean up a bit before heading inside. The cool, mostly clear water felt nice on his burning skin and cleaning off the dirt opened his pores and let the air in, cooling him down even more, though it stung in the open cut on his cheek from the jagged handle of his shovel earlier that day. He'd almost forgotten about it. The calm gave him a chance to think, but his mind kept wandering to Carol, Beth, and Judith. . . and then Beth and Judith. Daryl kept walking as his mind went wild. Eventually his heart beat began to quicken slightly as all that remained of his original thought was the young blonde woman he was grateful to have met. He nearly walked right into the front door of the prison by the time he noticed his raised heartbeat and wandering thoughts, and suddenly he was embarrassed. Daryl had never really had thoughts that sent his heart fluttering before, and it felt foreign to him. But he shook it off (not easily) and re-adjusted the ever-present crossbow on his back, stalling momentarily before swinging the heavy door back and stepping into what used to be the office area of the prison. Immediately upon entering, Daryl heard a familiar, soft voice singing and echoing throughout the large, open building, almost like a haunt. Once again his heart jumped but this time he found himself pulling one corner of his mouth barely upward in a half smile. He stopped and listened, savoring the sound of a beautiful life: a life that, as every survivor had learned, could be gone in an instant. After a few minutes, Daryl decided that he'd better get on with his break and cleared his throat loudly. The singing stopped, telling Daryl she was close. Beth rounded the corner of the wall, bright-eyed baby in hand. Judith noticed Daryl and squealed happily, stretching her arms out toward him right away. Daryl flashed his biggest smile, although a little forced, and scooped her up straight into an eskimo kiss. Judith returned it, as it had become their usual greeting. "She's been waiting all day to see Uncle Daryl." Beth let out a light giggle that would've lit up everyone if the rest of the group was there. Daryl snorted and shifted Judith's weight to his right arm, letting her sit on top of it while he held her ankles with his forearm and hand and her back with his other hand. Suddenly Beth's facial expression changed to show a flash of concern. Daryl raised an eyebrow.

"Ya' alright, Beth?" She stepped a bit closer and pulled a grey handkerchief from her back pocket, and held it up to his cheek. His face exploded in tingles and his heart kicked into overdrive, racing at her warm touch.

"Mr. Dixon, what happened to your face? You're bleeding." Daryl cringed. Not at the sting of his cheek, but at the title 'Mr. Dixon'. Especially coming from Beth. He shook his head and let his mouth form a small smile.

"Don't call me that." He began to understand what he'd been feeling all along as he took another small step forward, close enough to feel her breath on his face. Beth turned her eyes to her feet, her face reddening. Like a switch being flipped, Daryl made a decision he would have never in a million years have imagined himself making. He was going to act on this feeling. Beth's voice was nearly inaudible as she responded.

"What would you prefer?" He smiled and pulled her face up to meet his, placing a soft kiss on her lips. She hesitated when he pulled away, as if she was processing what had just happened between them. Several seconds passed before she moved again. When she did, she slowly brought a hand up, lightly touching her lips with two fingers. Daryl watched intently, waiting for a more definite response. Just a few seconds later, though her face was still to the floor, Daryl could see a grin spread across Beth's face before she looked back up at him. Without warning she planted a longer kiss on his mouth, not so softly. Between kisses, she asked again: "So. . . what would you prefer I call you?" Daryl muttered a breathy response just before the next kiss.

"Daryl. . .Just Daryl."

As if she knew what was happening, Judith let out a joyful squeal and clapped her hands against Daryl's shoulder, reminding him (and Beth) that she was there the whole time. . . and rooting for them.