Spiced Molasses

Chapter 25

Daryl was sprawled across the bed when he finally came to. His mouth was dry, tongue sticking to the roof and feeling like cotton wool. He still had his boots on. Daryl was familiar with the sensation. He was hungover.

He didn't even bother trying to force his eyes open yet, they'd be gritty and just sting. He also had no intention of forcing himself upright until absolutely necessary. There was a pounding at the base of his skull that had all the potential to erupt into a full blown headache. He was content to lie there in the dark forever but his pillow moved and sighed.

This was enough reason to open his eyes and take a proper stock of the situation. With great effort he tilted his head to the left. A female hip was only barely exposed by a raised shirt and Daryl got a glimpse of creamy skin. He was currently lying on Beth, head propped up on her stomach. Turns out he'd drunk enough to be stupid but not enough to eradicate his memory. He had talked way too much, revealed too much but he couldn't bring himself to move away. It was far too comfortable lying here, convalescing on Beth's flat stomach. Her belly moved gently with her breathing but the warmth of her body right next to his was restorative.

A treacherous part of him wished she'd wake up and lace her fingers through his hair again. Normally people touching him made him arc up but Beth's ministrations soothed him. There was no ulterior motive, no end game; she was just being gentle with him because she could, because she wanted to.

Daryl was so caught up in his own head that he didn't notice Beth was awake until she stretched underneath him. It wasn't enough to jostle him out of position but his attention shifted to his external environment.

"How are you feeling?" she inquired, voice husky with sleep.

"Like a dumbass."

Her body vibrated beneath him with her laugh. "You weren't so bad," she reassured him.

"Only 'cause you had Merle to compare with," he stated dryly.

"He wasn't so terrible either," Beth told him with a smile.

"Yeah well, you're a more tolerant person than most."

"I do put up with you after all," Beth acknowledged with a gleam in her eye. Daryl's retort was cut short by her fingers gently brushing his hair off his face. She always seemed to be able to read his mind and figure out just what he needed. It silenced his mind of anything but thoughts of her, of her kindness and tenderness. He still couldn't fathom how someone so entirely good had wound up in his life and how it hadn't contaminated her in turn.

Managing to get his elbow underneath him, he rolled so he could see her face properly.

"Yeah you do," he agreed seriously.

"I get it, I'm perfect," Beth joked, not yet picking up on his shift in mood. Summoning his courage, Daryl ran his fingers up her arm. It was an awkward, stilted action but her skin slid under his rough fingertips like satin.

Beth's breathing changed and Daryl's hold tightened on her in response. He was hovering over her, searching her face for clues or hints as to what she wanted.

She swallowed and licked her lips delicately. "What're you doing?" she asked quietly.

"Don't know."

"Do you want to kiss me?"

The question had him leaning back, narrowing his eyes some, but not for long. "Yes," he confessed, less than eloquently.

A subtle flush of red crept into her cheeks but she didn't shirk his intense gaze. "Then why don't you?" Her voice was deeper than usual and it was as sensual as hands dragged down his body.