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There’s not much that Daryl expects when he wakes up everyday. Well, at least that’s how it used to be. As he opens his eyes, lifting his sore body from the bed, he hastily shakes off the thick comforter he’s still trying to get used to.
Pillows are strung over the floor, clothes all jumbled in one pile like the moment the two stepped in, they gained a mind of their own, slipping off their bodies. Context wasn’t needed for anyone to guess what happened last night. Though, that didn’t dismiss his light guilt. Was there anything to feel guilty for?
Beth’s family was out of town for one reason or another, and it so happened that the person left out was his girlfriend. Or.. he calls her that in his mind. They never established a proper label yet. But It seemed like fate etched what it wanted them to do. Knowing how her father was, her sister, brother- stepmother? It’s like he was pissing on their porch!
Ah, whatever. It’s been done, and she liked it enough.
The closer Daryl gets down the stairs, an enticing smell grows stronger. He’s surprised to see Beth up at the stove with a spatula in hand. She’s wearing something more than he is. A pink satin short sleeve, with matching shorts— overshadowing his grayed tank-top and one size too big jeans.
The frayed beams of light from the blinds shine over her body, casting what felt like a dusted halo. An angel.
Beside the pan on the burner is a plate with waffles, another with a paper towel on top holding some grease drenched bacon, and it seems that what’s she’s finishing up with is scrambled eggs.
”Daryl!? Are you awake?” abruptly she yelled, which startled him. He paused realizing that she didn’t know he was there.. something fiendish rolled inside his mind. He tip-toed behind her, eyes lingering on the food.
One of the most basic breakfasts for some, like her— whose definition of grand is far out of his realm, but it’s an amazing meal regardless. A lot less demanding than a squirrel, or deer.
She hums, awaiting to hear the hoarseness of his voice from upstairs. “Daryl, c’mon, I didn’t rough you up too har– hey!”
His strong arms tighten around her torso, and her arms dangle in the air when he lifts her for a moment. An exasperated sigh lets him know he's succeeded in annoying her this early in the morning. "Pretty hard to knock my lights out for too long. What's this? You tryna serve up some breakfast in bed?"
"I ain't your housewife, so no," She flicked a stray strand of her blonde hair from between her eyes. She reaches over to turn the knob, letting the burner she cooked on settle down. Daryl won't fess up on hugging her, and she's not keen on shaking him off. Considering his brute strength, and whatnot.
She curls her hand back to cradle Daryl’s head, gently running her fingers through his locks of his hair. “How did you sleep?”
”T’was alright. I can’t complain about it, better than mine by a long shot.” His eyes lid slightly from the loving motion.
Beth closes the carton of eggs, and finally shimmies out of his grasp. He held back a whine, didn’t wanna sound like a needy dog (even if that’s how he acted around her), and watched her put the materials she used back inside of the refrigerator.
Soon after, the two plates are held up together on a lengthy tray. He pulls out a chair at the dining room table, and is confused to see Beth passing it gingerly. He follows her through the still farmhouse, and out of the front door, where two chairs and a small table are positioned right on the patio.
She places the plates on either side, and daintily sits down. Grabbing the mason jar of maple syrup, her eyes flick up to Daryl, who is in the midst of shock at the effort displayed.
Beth’s cheeks tint with red, hoping that he was impressed. “Are you gonna sit down? Is it too cold out here for ya?”
“No, no it’s fine. Just feels like we’re on a date or somethin’,” He takes a seat in the swivel chair. Before he starts eating, he watches her pour a hefty serving of the syrup in hand over her waffles. The pockets in it are exhausted, and it was already sweet enough by itself.
He chuckles, using her fork to pop a chunk of the eggs into his mouth. “Begging for cavities, huh?”
“My Daddy says it’s a miracle I’ve never had any.” She closes the lid, pushing the jar towards Daryl’s side. “That’s where brushing, an’ flossing gets ya!”
”Pecan brittle hates to see you coming.” he muttered, partially sarcastic. He grunted playfully as Beth kicked his foot.
Beth swirls her bacon up with her fork. “Don’t say it like that. I love pecan brittle.”
”For real? Jeez, Beth, needa get you on that carnival candy.” He scoffed.
“Carnival candy? Seriously? Don’t they like, put bugs in that?”
“Yeah. They taste pretty fuckin’ good. I hear they’re still alive in it. Just imagine eating a lolipop with a gooey, crunchy center- might squirm a lil’ too.” He pops his fingers in his mouth to lick off the syrup. Obviously, he’s joking. From the corner of his eye, he sees her face twisted up imagining it.
Beth notably shivers, slowing her chews, because what she’s eating is exactly how he described. Now the image of bugs in her mouth might ruin this breakfast, while for Daryl it provided him loving entertainment.
It’s an adorable image. Her entirely is one that he came to admire. All the stolen glances at the car shop he worked at while her brother got his routine fix-up stirred tension in their veins. And the day they confronted their feelings is one he won’t forget about. Their first kiss, and getting to lick off the sugar permeated from her lip, following it with scarce touches that he seemed to think about an unusual amount.
Yeah, he wouldn’t mind it one bit if it were just him, and her.