Chapter Text
Sweet Home Georgia
Sweet Home Alabama with a Bethyl Twist
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"Will you at least talk to me?" Beth Greene shouted over the roar of the wind.
Daryl paused in the middle of setting a metal spike into the soft sand of the beach, a clap of thunder ringing in his ears. He glanced back in her, the girl he'd loved since he was an eight years-old kid who'd wanted something good and sweet in his life. Wearing a wedding dress she'd picked out for another man-a man who could give her everything Daryl knew he couldn't give her no matter how hard he tried-her once carefully coiffed hair falling free from its pins, whipping around her in the wind. She looked fucking beautiful, Daryl thought as mother nature let loose around them.
They'd been here before, twenty years ago, they'd been two dumb ass kids trying to chase down lightning. He'd told Beth that when lightning hit the sand on the beach it made glass after it cooled down-you just had to dig it up. Beth hadn't believed him of course, she'd always been a stubborn thing. That felt like another lifetime ago.
"I don't even understand why yer even here! Don't you have a weddin' to get to," Daryl growled as he turned away from her.
Beth gave an exasperated huff, lifting the many layers of skirts and stomped clumsily through the soft sand.
"I'm not marrying Zach," she yelled as another boom of thunder shook the ground beneath them.
That made Daryl pause for a fraction of a moment, but he shook off that momentary feeling of relief, jabbing another spike into the earth, throwing all his frustration into it.
"Don't see what that has to do with me," he yelled.
Beth reached out, her small hand grabbing a hold of the sleeve of his heavy jacket, turning him to face her. Daryl glared down at the little blond before him, trying to ignore the gooseflesh marking her arms as the wind continued to beat against her, or the way that damn dress hugged her waist.
"It has everything to do with you . . . you . . . jerk! I love you, you stupid redneck!"
Lightning struck in the distance, a mile off and it was getting closer. But Daryl was frozen in place. He was sure he had heard wrong.
"Wha?" he asked, his voice so quiet that he wasn't sure Beth heard him.
Beth bit her lip, taking a tentative step towards him. "I didn't sign the papers. I still love you, I always will. I wanna stay married to you, Daryl Dixon."
Daryl stared at her, not really believing the words she was saying. Seven years he'd dreamed of nothing but this-Beth returning and saying she still loved him. When she'd come back and demanding the divorce he had never given her, he was sure there was no hope. But now here they were, Beth Greene standing in front of him in a wedding dress in the middle of a damn storm, saying she still wanted him.
"Why would you wanna marry me for anyway?" he asked, and the smile that appeared on Beth's face might as well have chased the dark gray clouds away from over their heads, because Daryl felt like he was seeing the sun for the first time in seven years.
Beth ended the remaining distance between them, her face a breath away from his.
"So I can kiss you whenever I want," she whispered, before sealing her mouth over his.
Daryl's arms were around her in an instant, one hand on her waist pulling her body flush against his own, his other hand diving into the mass of golden tangles, freeing the strands from their pins. Daryl kissed Beth with seven years worth of yearning and love, pain and misery. He wanted to drown in her, and Beth couldn't seem to get close enough to him as her small hands tangled in his hair. When he pulled away, he looked down at her swollen lips and heavy lidded blue eyes and chuckled breathlessly.
"Took ya long enough," he growled before looping the arm that had been around her waist behind her legs and sweeping her off her feet.
Beth giggled as she wove her arms around his neck.
"Let's get ya home 'fore we get fried, what you say Ms. Greene?"
"Okay," Beth smiled before touching her lips chastely against his cheek, before whispering in his ear. "But it's Mrs. Dixon."
Daryl just smiled crookedly. "Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Dixon."
They headed back to Dale's-no point in wasting a perfectly good reception.