Daryl thought Paul understood. He thought Paul knew to stay as far away from Merle as possible. He thought it was clear, if not by they way he retreated both physically and emotionally when his brother was brought up, then absolutely by Merle's sheer existence.
But then again, what is he going to do if it's Merle who encroaches on Daryl's life, and not the other way around?
He could hear Merle's bike roll up, could hear his brother's telltale stomp the second his feet his the ground. Paul heard, too. Their hands, which were at first knotted together between their relaxed bodies, separated, and the sudden chill on Daryl's palm held a stark contrast to the comforting warmth of before.
"Baby brother, what's going on here?" Merle slurred, staggering forward. An unnatural flush burned his features, his eyes manic, fingers twitching –
Daryl didn't so much as look at Paul. This is why, he wanted to tell him. This is why you don't know him. This is why I never introduced you.
"C'mon over, baby brother," Merle continued. When Daryl stood up, Merle fell forward and grabbed the front of Daryl's vest with an urgent ferocity before laughing. The liquor on his breath made Daryl's stomach churn.
"What all've you taken?" Daryl asked his brother quietly, trying to keep his back to Paul at all costs. He couldn't take the chance of looking back and seeing the disappointment on his face, or worse: the pity.
"Now's that any way to treat our guest, Daryl? Merle asked. He gaped at Daryl and stumbled backwards in a false affront, only breaking the character a split second later to laugh at the expression on Daryl's face.
Daryl heard Paul stand up behind him. "It's fine," he said, his voice calm and assured. Daryl chanced a glance at him and suppressed a heavy sigh of relief when he saw the understanding in his eyes. "We can talk later, okay?" he asked Daryl.
But before Daryl could answer, a dawning realization slid over Merle's features and he looked at Daryl with wide eyes. "Now, now, you wouldn't be makin' friends without me, would you, brother?" he asked. He stood up a touch straighter and stared down at Paul, who – Daryl groaned internally – matched him eye for eye.
"I can't say as I've had the pleas're," Merle told him, "but you two sure seem awfully chummy."
Paul smiled then. "He's a good guy," he answered.
Merle snorted at that, earning a pinched look to Paul's face. When they locked eyes again, Merle's eyes lacked all warmth and instead sported a steely glint. "Tell ya what," he said, pausing for half a second to spit on the ground between them. "Since my baby brother's too… good a guy, let me fill you in on a little secret: he don't need your fruity, fairy ass makin' him look bad."
Daryl barely had time to process Merle's warning before Paul smashed one knee in Merle's groin and his fist collided into Merle's anguished face with a resounding thwump. Daryl stepped forward and placed himself between them, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Paul crouched down on one knee, resting a solid hand on Merle's shoulder. "Since Daryl's a good guy, I'll let him be the one to decide that, okay?"
He stood up and looked Daryl square in the eyes before he smiled, reaching out his aching hand to hold Daryl's for a soft second. "I'll see you later?" he asked, the question clear, unwavering.
Daryl squeezed Paul's fingers with a nod. "Whenever you want me," he answered before slowly letting Paul walk away.