Author's Note: This story takes place in an alternate universe where Rick doesn't handcuff Merle to the roof in Atlanta. I'd like to dedicate it to Hime-Miko-Love, who gave me the idea which inspired this story way back in January. R&R is always welcome and extremely lovely. xo.
Warnings: Copious amounts of swearing and racial/homophobic slurs, a brief description of m/m sex. Please note that the views expressed by Merle in this story are not my own.
Stand Off.
Merle had really only been meaning to talk to his brother. All he'd planned on doing was sitting his brother down and having a proper discussion, man to man, just the two of them. They had plenty to talk about after all; it seemed that Daryl had forgotten the importance of sharing everything with Merle, like he was supposed to. He seemed to think that he could get away with having some dirty little secrets, some things he could keep hidden.
All Merle had wanted to do was tell his brother that he wouldn't be keeping any damn secrets from him anymore. Seemed like it would be a simple thing to do.
Instead, what should have been a simple discussion had turned into a goddamn Mexican standoff with both his brother and that goddamn nosy Officer Friendly looking down their sights at him. To make matters even more fucked, that son of a bitch Shane had his shotgun levelled on his baby brother, his finger just itching to pull the trigger. That just didn't sit right with him; it was none of the two cop's business what was going on between him and Daryl. There was absolutely no reason why they had to get themselves involved and there was certainly no reason why they needed to have their guns out and about.
Christ, what a fucking mess the day had turned into.
The morning had started out good enough; he'd been on the dawn watch by himself, which was just the way he liked it. Didn't have to worry about anyone bitching about his smoking if he was alone. The sun was just beginning to come up over the horizon, coloring the sky in red and pink and orange. There wasn't a sound to be heard around the camp; only the early rising birds made any noise, chirping quietly in the tree tops. Merle felt like he was the only person in the world left alive, felt like he'd been transported into one of those old black and white apocalypse movies Daryl had been so fond of when they were kids.
He didn't think he'd mind that, if he was being truthful to himself. Sure, he'd miss the chance for a piece of tail but really, it wasn't like that was happening to him anyways, stuck up bitches as they all were. If he was the only one left alive, he'd be able to do whatever he wanted, to not have to take anyone else's bullshit. He could be like a damn cowboy, driving whatever the hell he wanted, shooting as he saw fit.
His reverie had been snapped by a noise somewhere in the trees. At first, he thought it was just another bird or some shit but when it rang out again, he sat up straight, fingers automatically reaching for the pistol tucked into the back of his jeans. It had sounded like a groan and although he couldn't hear any twigs snapping, it was only too possible that one of those fucking freaks had stumbled up the mountain and had just gotten a sniff of the camp and that just wasn't going to cut it with him. Standing up, he took a quick glance around the camp before setting off in the general direction of the sound, crouching low so that he wouldn't make any noise. If he could get the jump on the thing, maybe he'd be able to take it out with his knife instead of using the gun.
The noise rang out, slightly quieter this time, a few feet to his left and he moved even slower, practically crawling forward, knife gripped in his large fingers. He still couldn't hear any twigs snapping but he could hear something rustling. Maybe its legs had been cut off or something like that. Whatever it was, he was practically upon it; all that was left between him and the noise was a leafy fern, which he gently pushed aside, his lips parting to utter a smartass remark to the brain-dead freak before-
What. The. Fuck.
Even though the sun had just started to slide above the horizon, Merle could still see perfectly well what was going on before his eyes, even if he couldn't believe it. He had to have overdone his sleeping pills or gotten them mixed up with something else because there was absolutely no way that he was seeing his baby brother lying on his back, jeans around his ankles, getting his dick sucked by that damn rice eater.
There was no fucking way.
But, even after pinching himself multiple times and closing his eyes, the sight didn't change. Daryl was still lying on the ground, legs spread like a whore, fingers entangled in Glenn's hair, groaning like an actress in a bad skin flick. The chink, for his part, seemed to be enjoying it just as much; even with his mouth full, Merle could still hear him moaning.
He thought that he was going to puke.
He managed to slip away from the clearing without them noticing him, although he supposed that wasn't too difficult an accomplishment, occupied as they were. Keeping his dinner down proved to be a harder challenge. Every time he felt like he was going to be fine, the mental picture of his brother getting his dick sucked like a faggot popped back into his head and he had to literally hold his mouth shut.
This wasn't right, no way. Daryl couldn't be a queer; he would have known that, long ago. Jesus, he knew everything about his little brother, even if Daryl didn't think he paid any attention to him growing up. He knew that Daryl's favourite things to hunt were squirrels, that his favourite actor of all time was Clint Eastwood and he definitely knew, without a doubt, that his little brother was not a fucking queer.
After a few moments, a different thought popped into Merle's head, one that was a little easier to stand. Maybe Daryl was just really, really desperate to get off or something like that; Lord knew that Merle could relate to that, even if he'd rather cut his own dick off than stick it in another guy. If that was all Daryl had been doing (since the ratio of compatible females to males was rather low), then Merle thought he could, in time, forgive his little brother, so long as it was an one-time thing that would never happen again.
Whatever it was, he needed to talk to Daryl. He was the only person his brother had, after all; it wasn't like anyone in the rest of the group gave a fuck about either of them. He had to remind Daryl of that point, remind him that they had to stick together; they couldn't be hiding things from each other if they wanted to survive. They had to tell each other everything.
Really. He just needed to talk to him.
He managed to put it off until about midday, when most of the other members of the group were distracted with various things. Daryl, for his part, was sitting by the fire pit, working on skinning a brace of squirrels he'd brought back only a few moments earlier. There was no one else within earshot so Merle decided to take his chance, tucking the knife he'd been pretending to sharpen back into its sheath and plunking himself down beside his brother, sticking a cigarette in his mouth.
He had a feeling that he was going to need it.
"What's up baby bro?" Daryl grunted and nodded his head toward the squirrels, snapping the spine of the one he was holding in his hands. Any other time, Merle wouldn't have read much into Daryl's silence; it wasn't like either of them were really the talkative type. But after what he had witnessed that morning, he couldn't help but interpret it as a sign that Daryl was ignoring him.
This was going to come to an end. The world may have gone to shit but he was still Daryl's older brother; he wasn't going to let Daryl show him disrespect. It really was worse than he had expected and the only solution Merle could think of was to tune Daryl up immediately.
The open-handed smack to his ear caught Daryl by surprise, knocking him over onto his ass, but he was almost immediately back up, clutching his knife that was still covered in squirrel blood. Merle mirrored his position, his stomach sinking ever so slightly. He really didn't feel like making this such an outburst but if Daryl wouldn't talk to him, he didn't really see any other way around it.
"What in the fuck is your problem Merle?" he growled, his fingers wiggling slightly on the handle of his knife.
"My problem? My problem?" he repeated, unable to actually believe that Daryl was having the gall to ask such a stupid question. "I ain't got a problem! Really, I'm just dandy fine!" He was aware that the volume of his voice was climbing with each word but really, he didn't give a fuck.
"You, however, have a problem," he continued, poking his index finger at Daryl's chest. "You've got a number of problems, little bro, but let's just say that I'm not too happy with you keeping secrets from me and I'm really not happy with the fact I happened across you with your dick jammed down that fucking chink's throat earlier!" By now, the others had stopped what they were doing and were listening in, although none of them dared come closer. Glenn was nowhere to be seen, which was rather disappointing in Merle's mind; he thought that the message would have gotten through Daryl's head better if he'd been around.
"Don't think it's any of your damn business who I decide to jam my dick in," he said. "And let's not even get started on keepin' secrets Merle. You've done nothing but fucking lie to me my entire life!" Merle hadn't even realized that Daryl had stepped forward until he was in his personal space, his eyes coursing with fury. This was all so weird; his brother had never been one to really fight back against him. Sometimes he gave a half-hearted attempt but this was much more than that. This was full-blown defiance and, in a brief moment of total clarity, Merle realized that it was because of the group that his brother was like this.
He'd known that getting involved with this group had been a bad idea, right from the start.
"Now look Daryl," he said, laying one hand on his younger brother's shoulder, "I'll forgive you, simple as that. All you need to do is say it won't happen again and we'll just forget 'bout it. S'that simple."
"Go fuck yourself, Merle. You ain't in charge of my life anymore and-"
Merle didn't hear what Daryl wanted to say next because he punched him in the face before he could utter anything else. Daryl hit the ground, barely catching himself before his head smacked into the dirt. When he looked back up, Merle could easily tell that he was absolutely pissed; he'd seen the primal urge in his brother's eyes on a few occasions, usually before he got into a tussle with somebody. At least that was typical Dixon behaviour.
He was still surprised however when, instead of swinging back, Daryl snatched up his crossbow quick as lightning and aimed it right at the middle of Merle's forehead. Merle's response, in turn, was completely automatic. Just as quickly as Daryl, he yanked his pistol out of the back of his jeans and pointed it at his little brother, cocking the gun in one swift movement. That sound was quickly echoed and it was only then that Merle saw Rick Grimes pointing his Python at him. On his other side, Shane was brandishing his shotgun at Daryl's head, obviously not fucking around.
What in the fuck was going on?
"Put that goddamn shotgun down," he hollered at Shane, "and you, Officer Friendly, get that fucking thing out of my face. This ain't any of your goddamn business!"
"Oh, it definitely is my business," Rick said, his gaze not wavering one inch. "It became my business the instant you started waving a gun at your brother who, far as I see, hasn't done a damn thing to deserve it."
Wait. Was he hearing this right? Was he really saying that Daryl was completely and utterly blameless in this situation? That was easy for him to say; he hadn't been forced to see his brother moaning like a whore.
"This is between me and my brother," he said, flicking his gaze from Daryl to Rick, "and if you don't lower your gun, I'm gonna shoot you right here, right now."
"No you won't." Glenn's voice came from behind him but Merle didn't dare turn around; he knew that was exactly what Rick wanted him to do. He could barely resist, however; he could feel anger and disgust prickling his skin like some weird form of goosebumps.
"If you shoot Rick, I will shoot you and I'm pretty sure Shane and Daryl will do the same." Merle didn't even know that the chink knew how to use a gun, let alone carried one. Maybe it was all just one giant bluff.
"Daryl wouldn't shoot me," he scoffed, staring his brother down. "He ain't stupid enough to."
"Wouldn't bet on that," Daryl said. With that statement, for the first time in literally years, Merle felt something that he'd almost forgotten about. Something that he'd thought himself incapable of feeling.
Fear.
"You'd shoot me?" he asked, hating how weak his voice sounded coming out of his mouth. "You would shoot your own kin, the only person who gives a fuck about you?"
"The only person who really cares about me," Daryl replied, putting particular emphasis on the word, "is standing behind you. I wouldn't shoot him 'less he was turning into a Walker. You on the other hand..." He didn't bother to finish his sentence. He didn't have to. Merle knew that the argument was gone, that it was hopeless. His brother really was a fucking queer and from the looks of things, he was a fucking traitor to his own Dixon blood.
He couldn't forgive that. Not ever.
"Fuck you then," he said heavily, tucking his gun into the back of his pants. "Fuck all of you." He didn't look back as he walked away, heading towards his tent. He was going to get the hell out of the shithole of a camp; after all, what reasons did he have to stick around? His brother was a queer, the rest of the camp obviously were a bunch of pansy lovers and he would be better off on his own.
"Anyone else have any objections?" Merle couldn't help but tense as Daryl hollered out the challenge to the rest of the bystanders. It was obviously a double-edged thing; Daryl was waiting for someone to either oppose his relationship (thinking the word nearly made Merle puke) with Glenn or oppose Merle leaving the group.
Merle wasn't surprised when the only response his brother received was complete and utter silence.