I didn't plan posting here anymore ... but I thought I could need some distraction, right now and maybe others, too! This is completely AU because this is Caryl's home these days and I keep trying to create better universes for them. They deserve it. If you've read my other story "Don't Kiss" you will see, this here is some kind of short version with reversed roles but, nevertheless very diefferent. I went with the idea of soulmates at first sight, drawn to each other since the first moment they met.
This is betaed by the amazing CharlotteAshmore!
OOO
It had been something right out of The Twilight Zone when they'd received the letter informing them Daniel Dixon had passed away. The brothers' first reaction had been a synchronous Who the hell? accompanied by knitted brows … until they'd remembered who the man had been. Merle had hardly any memories of his uncle and Daryl had none seeing as how he'd still been warm and safe in Mommy's belly when the man had moved away.
Apparently, Daniel Dixon had had no other relatives, and thus it was Merle and Daryl who would now inherit the stranger's house. Otherwise, they never would've remembered their father had even had a brother.
"Nevada? Seriously? He must've wanted to get as far away from this shithole as possible," Daryl said when he realized where the house was located, wondering why his uncle had felt the need to move to the other end of the United States. At least, now he knew why he'd never met him.
"He wasn't like our asshole father. Mama used to say he was different … different from us. An' Pa - the ol' bastard - said his brother didn't wanna have anythin' to do with us. Said Daniel always thought he was better," Merle explained, taking a sip of his beer.
"So,' what are we gonna do now?" Daryl asked, frowning.
"We'll have to go out there, of course. It would be too difficult to sell the house from here. I don't want us to get shafted by some shady realtor who might try to make us believe it's worth less than it actually is. Who knows, bro, we might've fallen into a gold mine," Merle grinned from ear to ear.
"Do ya have any idea how far away that is? It's fuckin' Nevada!" The younger brother shook his head. "We don't even have enough money for th' gas we'll need to get there." He also had his doubts - about anyone bearing the name Dixon - the house would be more than a pile of rotted wood, no better than the crumbling trailer they already owned. Why should it have been different with his uncle? The house was probably a moldy old trailer, not worth the trip to Nevada in an attempt to sell it.
"I'll think of somethin'," Merle replied with the naive optimism which had never led them to anything good in the past.
OOO
Daryl should've known. After yesterday evening, he'd tried to ignore the churning sensation in his gut warning him no good would come from the letter they'd received, and now after his night shift at the parking garage, it wasn't any better. His stomach was tied in knots as he rode his bike towards the trailer he shared with Merle … had shared with Merle. A block away, he could see his brother leaning against an unfamiliar truck - at eight o'clock in the morning - and as he got closer, he could see the eldest Dixon counting the cash he held in his hand.
The ensuing conversation was filled with wild insults and so much profanity, he was surprised the neighbors hadn't called the cops. Daryl's face was mottled with rage, beads of sweat caused by his unsurmountable fury covering his brow. Despite the exhaustion and fatigue, he still had unexpected repositories of energy to drive him. All he'd wanted to do was climb into his bed and slip into blessed sleep.
Gesticulating wildly and roaring at the top of his lungs, he just barely restrained himself from kicking the fucking truck … which was, in fact, all the brothers had left. Daryl's oh-so-optimistic brother had procured the rusty vehicle, loaded their belongings into the bed and sold the trailer. This had been, by far, the worst, most offensive and insidious thing Merle Dixon had ever done.
Merle had wordlessly taken every word of Daryl's tantrum and then loaded his brother's bike into the bed of the truck. He knew defending his momentous decision wouldn't do him any favors. And fortunately, he knew better than to goad his pissed off brother while driving and left him alone. Daryl eventually found sleep - if not rest - at short intervals in the battered passenger seat, frequently disturbed by the grating sound of the old engine and the constant reminder that such trucks had no shock absorbers.
The first motel was even more run-down than their trailer had ever been - even back when their old man had gone on his drunken binges and done his best to trash it - but Daryl took it because he had no other choice, still not talking to his brother. He'd refused to drive, as well, thinking he'd probably drive them right into a tree as tired as he was.
The second motel was only slightly better - though that was a great exaggeration - but at least the sewage pipes, which Daryl had been forced to listen to, drowned out Merle's snoring.
Daryl wasn't able to sleep at night, his sleep rhythm completely reversed due to years of pulling graveyard shifts. So, he was lying wide awake again on a saggy mattress, trying not to think about the predicament his brother had caused once again. At least Daryl had been able to call his boss - during a short break from the road - to tender his resignation. It didn't sit well with him he hadn't been able to give notice, but he hadn't been given a choice. He'd lost everything thanks to Merle's determination to uproot them and send them halfway across the country on a whim. He figured if he was to find hope anywhere, it would be in Nevada.
OOO
The rusty truck - which had no doubt made its last trip across country - was already parked when Merle hammered against the passenger side window, startling Daryl from a sound sleep.
"Hey, Darylina! Wake up! If I open th' fuckin' door now, yer gonna fall out like a wet sack," Merle roared outside the truck. Daryl hadn't even noticed how his brother had picked up the keys, using the silence for a moment to fall asleep. So, he'd been snoring quietly on the passenger seat when they'd finally reached their destination. "Ya have to look at this … it's a fuckin' palace!"
Reluctantly, Daryl pried open his heavy lids and looked out the dirty window, the sun mercilessly beating against his eyes. Merle had exaggerated, of course, when he'd said it was a palace - though it seemed like it to the brothers after what they'd left in Georgia - but it was a real house, solid and well-maintained. Seeing it snapped Daryl out of his fugue and brought him fully awake.
The impression - which the brothers already had from the outside - continued well into the inside as well. It was tidy and cozy with proper furniture and pictures on the walls. Daryl couldn't shake off the eerie feeling of being in a stranger's house as they moved from room to room with a curious and observant eye.
"Funny …" Merle stopped when he saw a photo of a baby between two other pictures hanging on the wall. "His buddy said Daniel didn't have no kids."
"What else did he say about him?" Daryl wanted to know.
"Jus' that they had no kids an' his wife died four years ago. Daniel had a heart attack, an' fortunately didn't die in the house but in the hospital. His buddy has taken care of everythin' here so far." Merle's eyes wandered back to the picture of the baby and then to his brother. "That kid looks like ya did at that age. Fuckin' weird."
"Babies all look the same," Daryl replied dryly and sauntered on into the kitchen, expecting the worst when he opened the fridge, but it was empty, as was his head at the moment. He didn't know what to think about all this … or their next move.
OOO
Daryl was told later that Hershel Greene - their uncle's friend - had also left them a legacy of four thousand dollars. Daryl wondered if his brother hadn't immediately told him because he had planned to keep it for himself, or if he really had just forgotten to mention it. Most of the time Daryl didn't trust his brother farther than he could see him, so he was glad Merle had finally confided in him about the money. At least they wouldn't leave Nevada empty-handed, the money was more than welcome to add to what they'd gain from the sale of the house. After checking out of the last motel, they'd been strapped for cash.
Lunch had been a heart attack in a sack from a local fast food restaurant before they'd found a supermarket to buy groceries to fill the fridge and pantry. It felt as if they'd begun to settle here, and as darkness fell, Daryl found himself finally beginning to relax. Something about the foreign house felt like home to him. They would stay for the time being, but they hadn't discussed if it the move would be permanent. It wasn't like there was anything left back home.
"I think we should go out," Merle suggested, grinning like he'd already planned this earlier.
"Are ya serious? Can't we just stay here? I'm tired as fuck!" Daryl complained.
"Ya ain't sleepin' anyway! Come on out with me … we can have a beer to celebrate our good fortune!"
Daryl could sense his brother wouldn't be satisfied with one beer and would need someone to drive him back. Even if he could live with the worry until Merle returned, he knew resistance was futile. He nodded in agreement and followed the eldest Dixon out the door. Perhaps a beer would later help him sleep.
OOO
"Darylina, yer prob'ly th' only guy on earth who don't recognize a cathouse when he sees one!" Merle was still struggling to catch his breath as he set two beers onto the table they'd chosen in a discreet corner of the room. He laughed so hard, beads of sweat broke out upon his brow. The sweat trailing over Daryl's face, however; was caused by shame. He didn't think he'd ever been so uncomfortable in his entire life.
Daryl had felt confused since they'd first entered the bar. There were more women than men, and more scantily clad than he'd seen even with the way of modern fashion. But he hadn't given it a second thought as Merle had pointed him at a table and left to get drinks. Merle had left his brother there to figure it out on his own … eventually.
"What th' hell are we doin' here, Merle?" Daryl hissed furiously.
"It's Reno! Where else would we be?" was Merle's answer. It was a given to wind up in a brothel in Nevada … at least for one Dixon in particular.
Daryl downed half his beer in one gulp. "I'm leavin' when this fuckin' bottle is empty!"
Merle shook his head. "No, ya ain't! I have nearly four grand in my pocket, an' I ain't leaving here jus' cause ya got a stick up yer ass. Ya need some pussy, an' we ain't leavin' 'til ya get some. Now, choose."
"I don't want this shit, Merle." Mind made up, Daryl got up to leave the bar, but his brother's hand shot out to grab his arm.
"Sit down," Merle said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Daryl slowly slid back into his seat. "We been through hell for a lotta years now, but that's changin' tonight, ya hear? Now, yer gonna, by god, enjoy yerself or I'll leave ya here to foot th' bill. We clear, bro?"
Knowing he didn't have a dime to his name, Daryl wordlessly nodded and let his gaze wander, avoiding his brother's hawk-like gaze. He was well and truly trapped.
"Good boy!" He heard a return of Merle's mischievous voice and tried to wrack his brain for a way out of his present predicament.
Inspecting the brothel, Daryl was surprised by just how nice it actually was. It wasn't fancy or ostentatious, but rather cozy and comfortable, someone taking the time and effort to go for a more relaxed atmosphere. The room which housed the bar was filled with a few tables - like the one Daryl and Merle had chosen - done in a rich walnut wood, but there were also some overstuffed sofas and chairs upholstered in blue and cream striped damask. There were no garish flashing lights or loud music. Instead there was warm lighting from antique tiffany lamps and soft country music filtering from the speakers set high in the ceiling. Without the half-naked women everywhere, it would almost resemble an upscale gentlemen's club.
Young women sat at tables while others joined their guests on one of the sofas, chatting charmingly with them. Daryl would never feel comfortable doing something like that. It would put them directly into his space, and he'd find it too intrusive. Even then, his skin crawled with anxiety thinking of having to get too close to one of them.
Two women stood behind the bar, chatting and making drinks, and before he knew it, Daryl's gaze settled on them and remained. It was the first time since he'd set foot into the building his eyes lingered on a person longer than five seconds. It was fascinating, watching her.
She played with the bottles as she was making the drinks as if she'd perhaps gone to a special school for bartending. Her expression was relaxed, and she smiled, apparently enjoying her conversation with the other woman. Watching her work brought Daryl's anxiety down in an odd way, even if he didn't realize why.
"Ya see! Maybe it wasn't a bad idea comin' here, after all," Merle said when he realized his brother's interest had become piqued. "She works behind the bar, but I'm sure with the right amount of money, ya could have any woman here."
"Ya sure?" Daryl asked quietly, lost in thoughts.
"She's a bit young, but, after all, she works here. Wouldn't hurt to ask," Merle replied.
"Pfft! Not that one," Daryl sneered at his brother, a disgusted look on his face before he turned back to the mysterious woman behind the bar. He still wasn't sure if he could go through with Merle's ultimatum. As strange as he always was with women, he just didn't know if he could stand to be touched by anyone. It would be better to simply make his brother think he was doing what he wanted. He could go with her and pretend to have sex with her, so Merle would finally back off and leave him alone. And in actuality, Daryl wouldn't deny he wanted to take a closer look at this woman.