Hi again! I fell like this story just keeps straying more and more into the ridiculous - but I'm not gonna lie - I just love how fun it is! Thanks for the reviews, follows, and faves - You're all awesome!

"Why the hell is there champagne?" Daryl asked as Beth turned on her heel and marched back towards the fridge.

"Andrea likes to serve it to some of the fanciest customers," she called over her shoulder, "You comin' or not?"

She glanced back to see that he was following her, and she took just a minute to wonder what in the world had gotten into her.

Beth was responsible. She was the one that Andrea always asked to stay through closing because it was widely known that she could handle the store on her own. She turned things in on time; she paid bills a week before they were due; she checked the oil in her car every time she filled it up with gas. Suggesting a highly inappropriate drink to a man she barely knew was not her style - and yet, in this moment, she couldn't bring herself to care.

"Ain't your boss gonna be pissed if we drink all her stuff?" Daryl questioned as she dug through the back of the refrigerator.

"You know," she reemerged holding the first bottle, "I really don't give a damn."

Daryl chuckled a little, and it surprised her - he was normally so quiet.

"Andrea is so busy trying to pander to the Atlanta city-slicker crowd that she can't be bothered to do things like stop in when the store is busy or inform her one Saturday afternoon employee that there's a massive schedule issue at the end of the day," Beth declared, "If she even notices that it's gone I'll be surprised."

"Well, alright then," Daryl said definitively.

"And if she does notice," Beth continued, on a roll now, "then she can just fire me. There are two other stores in the mall hiring right now, and I'm a retail badass."

With that, she cracked open the bottle in a practiced motion and filled two of the plastic glasses from the top shelf all the way to the rim.

"Bottom's up," she said, passing a glass to Daryl before taking a healthy swig out of hers.

Daryl eyed his glass warily.

"Don't usually drink fruity shit like this," he commented, although she noticed that he hadn't handed it back to her yet.

"Well, then you can be sober alone," she challenged.

He met her eyes, and she was thrilled to see a hint of something mischievous there. In barely two swallows, he had drained his glass and extended his arm for her to pour him another round. Maybe there was more fun to Daryl than Beth had previously given him credit for.

"That's the spirit," she encouraged, topping off his glass and hers, "Let's see what we can scrounge up for dinner."

She pulled the cabinets next to the fridge open and was met with the standard contents of most retail break rooms - coffee filters, various mismatching plastic cutlery, the odd package of crackers, and finally - on the very top shelf - a sad and crumbled package of chicken flavored instant noodles.

"Jackpot!" she exclaimed, already feeling the first glass of champagne hit her very empty stomach, "You like Ramen?"

Daryl made a face.

"Does anybody?" he asked.

Beth couldn't stifle her giggle.

"I mean, no, but it's that or starve."

"Ramen it is," he conceded.

Beth busied herself with filling the coffee pot with water to boil and cracking the stiff noodles into a styrofoam bowl. She glanced back at Daryl and saw that his hands had returned to his pockets.

"There's only one pack," she said, "but I found two forks."

He said nothing and continued to hover just behind her.

"Do you wanna go sit, and I'll bring it over?" she asked.

"You don't gotta serve it to me," he said sheepishly.

She smiled at him, thinking it was sweet that he didn't want her to tax herself with food that's only requirement was boiled water.

"No worries, Daryl," she said, "It's a one person job. Why don't you fill up the glasses, and I'll be there in a second."

She was relieved when he grabbed the champagne bottle and took a seat at the card table propped against the opposite wall. Beth hoped that the booze would loosen him up a little more. She had liked the hint of devilry she had seen in his eyes a moment before.

She poured the hot water over the noodles with the practiced expertise of a broke college student and carried it to the table with two forks. She handed him one, and made short work of digging into the pile of noodles with her own.

"So your boss sucks, huh?" he asked suddenly, surprising her.

"Sort of," she mused, "She's not awful, I guess, she's just more - absent."

"Mmmm," Daryl commented, mouth full of noodles.

"She's tryin' to open a second store closer to Atlanta, and she's hardly ever here anymore," she explained, "I feel like I'm managing - especially on the weekends - with no extra money."

"I had a job like that," Daryl commiserated, "Started out workin' as a mechanic at my buddy's Shane's garage, and always felt like I was doin' more work than him. S'why I moved to the Chevy dealership."

"Yeah, I'm hopin' to only have to stay here about another five months," she said.

"You're in nursin' school, right?" he asked, and then immediately cast his eyes down as if that was something he shouldn't have known.

"Yeah!" she beamed, surprised that he had remembered. As far as she knew Maggie had only mentioned that to him once.

"I want to do pediatric nursing," she forged on, hoping to give him time to dissipate the adorable blush that had crept up his neck.

"So kids, right?" he managed, slowly meeting her eyes again.

"Yep," she confirmed, "There's a children's surgical unit in Atlanta that specializes in cancer patients where I'd like to work eventually."

She beamed again when the corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile.

"I bet you'll be good," he said, staring at their bowl of noodles, "Kids'll like you."

"I hope so," she said.

Beth struggled for another conversation to start as they came to the bottom of their bowl of noodles. She smirked a little when Daryl reached to give them both more of the champagne. At this rate, she was going to start talking whether her brain agreed or not. She was a chatty drunk.

Daryl stretched back, locking his hands behind his head and it was all Beth could do not to openly stare. Lord have mercy, but that man had built arms. She took another gulp of her drink to occupy her mouth before she said something stupid.

Daryl glanced to his left and she saw him notice all the dresses that had to go out the next day for weddings. They hung on a rack back in the break room so that they could be steamed and wrapped before the customers came to pick them up. Front and center was a violently pink, frothy number that looked like it would fit in on a Vegas stage before it would a wedding.

"Is your dress for the weddin' as bad as that one," he asked with a snort.

Beth laughed outright.

"Not quite," she admitted, "It's just got -"

She made a skirt shape with her hands on account of the fact that the fuzziness in her brain wouldn't allow her to come up with the right words.

Feeling slightly emboldened by the absurdity of the situation they were in and the nearly four glasses of alcohol she'd had, Beth suddenly had a much better idea of how to make him understand.

"How 'bout I just model it for you?" she asked.

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