
When she saw him outside the prison gates in exactly the right place at exactly the right time, she was still pissed at him for leaving. How will she deal with the new and unfamiliar feelings she has as a result of his return?


“Oh pretty kitten you got no idea.” Daryl said as his mouth swooped down, teeth biting at Beth’s deliberately pouting bottom lip. His teeth scraped over it, pulling on it as he used it to pull Beth forward into his arms. “Legs around me now.” He ordered as he picked her up.


She sits quietly, and for a long time the only sound is their soft breathing, the clink of the comb on the edge of the cup, the soft scrape of his nails against her scalp, the brush of his fingers against her neck.



“You’re like a magpie, man, where do you even find this stuff?” Glenn is the only one who ever really comments on it, but Beth finds him later, when he’s brooding away from the group. He doesn’t know why he does it, exactly, only he remembers being like this as a kid, bringing home pretty rocks and bouquets of weeds to his Ma, remembers the smile that lit her face even though it was all garbage. Remembers the line of gifts on her bedside table, before things got real bad.
– Daryl likes to give out trinkets. It’s not a thing. Mostly it’s not a thing.


After a gruelling twenty-four hour watch at the prison, Daryl falls into a dream where he can touch Beth in all the ways he desperately wants to. But something about this dream is different, more vibrant. But he’s still Daryl, she’s still Beth, and this is all just a dream. Right?