Just a short, random two-shot. Enjoy!

…

Hunter was in trouble. Again. It seemed like every other day, that kid was in trouble and Beth would be calling Daryl at the garage, telling him that he needed to come to the school after work because they needed to talk with Hunter's teacher. Again.

Kid was only six and he was already a Dixon hellion and neither of them knew what to do about it. Luke was such a good kid and Abby was only two but she had never been a problem but Hunter was a whole other story. More than once, Daryl had muttered about the cursed Dixon blood but Beth had just given him one of her looks and told him there was no such thing.

"Daryl!" Dale yelled over the noise of the shop as he stuck his head out of the office. Daryl lifted his head from the hood of the car he was working on to see his boss holding up the phone. "Wife!"

Daryl wiped his hands as he crossed the garage to the office and took the phone from Dale. "Hey."

Beth sighed softly. "I need you to meet me at the school after work," she said.

Daryl sighed heavily, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. "What'd he do now?"

"I have no idea," she sighed again. "Just that we have to meet with his teacher. You don't think they'd expel a six-year-old, do you?"

Daryl didn't answer. Hunter was a Dixon. Who knew what the school would do?

And he noted that Beth sounded so tired, too.

…

He tried taking Hunter hunting once. When he was four and it was the age Daryl was when he began hunting so he thought there was no reason why his son couldn't start then, too. He had been taking Luke for a few years and the ten-year-old had just received his first crossbow, loving it as much as his art easel.

Daryl had trained him well. He knew to be quiet – talk quiet, walk quiet, even think quiet. He knew how to track and could tell the difference between the different animal tracks. He could sit for hours, barely moving, as he waited for the perfect shot and was just eight when he took down his first buck.

Hunter was nothing like his older brother or like his dad. He was too loud, too obnoxious, had too much energy running through him and he had scared away all of the game. Luke had been pissed and Hunter had been bored and Daryl had taken them both home with not even a squirrel to show for their time.

He never offered to take Hunter hunting again and Hunter never asked to go.

…

Beth looked like the sort of woman who had a six-year-old in the first grade. With her blonde hair and kind smile and her dress and cardigan sweater, she looked just as sweet as the cookies the kids all got for Valentine's Day. Daryl, on the other hand, came right from the garage, a hole in one knee of his jeans and grease on his shirt.

He met her in the front hallway and she gave him a small, relieved smile. "Hi."

Daryl didn't say anything. Just kissed her on the side of her head and then together, they walked down the familiar hallway towards the first grade classroom.

"Where are the kids?" Daryl asked.

"Maggie's watching them. Wants her and Glenn to get some practice," Beth replied.

"They can keep 'em," he grunted.

Beth squeezed his hand and smiled a little. "Even Abby?"

"'specially Abby," he nodded and she laughed softly. He looked at her and squeezed her hand back. "What do you think we should do 'bout Hunter?" He then asked in a quieter voice and watched as her smile dropped slowly.

"I have no idea," she shook her head, looking down to the ground as they walked. She sighed softly again. "He reminds me so much of your brother sometimes," she then said practically in a whisper.

Daryl didn't say anything. He had been hoping Beth hadn't picked up on that.

…

Merle wasn't a constant in their lives. Sometimes, he was there. Other times, he was in jail and the rest of the time, he was just gone – bouncing around from place to place. They never knew when one day, he would just randomly knock on their door and show up, asking Beth what was for dinner.

Like any uncle who showed up whenever he pleased – being loud and funny and bringing presents that Daryl was sure were stolen – the kids just adored him. Luke always wanted to show him his newest painting and Abby giggled and toddled up to him, always wanting to be held by him, and Hunter, well Hunter just worshiped the ground his Uncle Merle walked on.

And that scared the shit out of Daryl because Hunter was only six –years-old. He should have wanted to be like Batman or something like that. Not like Merle Dixon.

Sometimes, he wasn't even sure Merle wanted to be like Merle.

…

"I am so sorry," Beth said as the teacher showed them the desk where Hunter sat – School Sucks – carved into the surface with a blue pen. "I don't even know where he learns things like this. His older brother is nothing like this."

"Yes, I remember Luke," the teacher smiled and nodded. Her smile faded though when she looked down to the vandalized desktop. "And I know you've been Luke's parents for so long now but maybe the reason Luke and Hunter aren't alike is because Luke isn't really a Dixon."

Daryl's jaw clenched a little and Beth just stared at the teacher. They weren't idiots and they knew exactly what she was saying without actually saying it. Daryl wasn't too surprised, though. He was just surprised it had taken this long for the kid's teacher to bring up having a Dixon in her class.

…

"I can talk to the principal," Beth said that night as they got dinner and the kids ready. Luke was in the living room, watching television and sketching in his pad, Abby was sitting on the kitchen floor at Beth's feet, sucking on her pacifier and playing with her stuffed bear, and Hunter was standing in the corner, facing the wall.

"Why'd you do that?" Daryl asked, setting the plates down around the table. "Think they can tranquilize 'im durin' school?"

"I meant, I can talk to the principal about giving him a new teacher," Beth said.

"Small school, Beth. Only one first grade teacher," he reminded her. "It's not a big deal." He bent down and picked up Abby, setting her down in her booster chair. Hunter began to turn his head away from the wall and Daryl physically – gently – turned it back so he was staring back at the wall. "Luke, dinner."

"She had no right to say that," Beth turned and set the bowl of green beans down on the table with a little too much force. "Hunter may be a demon but he is our demon and the Dixon last name has nothing to do with it. Hunter Thomas Dixon, you face that wall until I tell you to turn around."

They heard the rumble of a beat-up pickup truck roll up to their house and Daryl sighed heavily. This was the last thing they needed tonight.

A minute later, they heard heavy boots on the porch and the door burst open.

"Somethin' sure smells good in here," Merle Dixon said, stepping into the house.

"Uncle Merle!" Luke and Hunter shouted at the same time, Hunter sprinting away from the wall and both boys running to him.

"Go on, baby girl," Daryl scooped Abby up from her chair and set her down on her feet, the toddler flying as fast as she could towards Merle on her unsteady legs.

Daryl watched as all of the kids greeted him, jumping around, wanting his full attention, and Merle was grinning, soaking it all up. He had always loved being the center of attention so having these kids all clamber for him, it was a dream come true in Merle's opinion.

He looked to Beth but she wasn't watching. Instead, she was pulling their Shake-n-Bake pork chops from the oven.

"Ha! The old stand in the corner punishment!" Merle was laughing. "Yeah, my ma used to make me do the same thing. Didn' do a damn thing for me."

"Kids!" Beth suddenly exclaimed a bit too loud. "Dinner!"

"Hey, sis, gotta place for me?" Merle asked, now holding Hunter upside down as the boy laughed with delight.

"Yeah!" Luke and Hunter both exclaimed.

Daryl watched as Beth took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile on her face.

"Of course, Merle," Beth said.

Daryl could see the tightness in her shoulders and the strain of her smile and he knew exactly how she felt because he was feeling the same tightness in his spine.

…

"Whatcha workin' on tonight, lil' brother?" Merle asked, coming out to the shed where Daryl had set up his woodshop.

After dinner, he had tried to get Merle to come out with him but the boys had stolen all of his attention and wanted to hang out with Uncle Merle and Merle had spent the past couple of hours telling them all sorts of stories of when he and Daryl were kids; stories that weren't necessarily appropriate for their kids but that hadn't stopped Merle. Nothing could stop Merle.

"Dollhouse for Abby. Boys in bed?" Daryl asked without looking up from the piece of wood he was sanding.

"Yeah, Beth was tryin' to get them down," Merle said and then laughed. "Hunter wanted none of it though. That wife of yours has already sung him three songs. That boy of yours cracks me up."

"It's not funny," Daryl muttered.

"Wha was that?" Merle asked, leaning against the table, picking up a random screwdriver laying around.

Daryl didn't answer and continue sanding.

"Hunter Thomas! You get back here right this second!" They then heard Beth shouting from inside the house.

Merle chuckled and Daryl sighed heavily, standing up straight.

"It's not funny, Merle," Daryl said. Merle looked at him, his lips still quirked in a smirk as if he knew what the problem was and it was just all so damn amusing to him. And that smirk just pissed Daryl off the more he stared at it. "You bein' around and bein' you while around Hunter is mixin' that boy all up."

Merle pushed himself off the table, tossing the screwdriver aside. "What you sayin', Daryl?" He asked, his smirk slowly fading.

"You know exactly what I'm sayin'," Daryl said. "My kids are already gonna have a hard enough time havin' Dixon as their last name. My son doesn't need to have people callin' him fuckin' Merle Dixon."

Merle looked at him and Daryl waited for him to say something. Or punch him.

But Merle didn't do either of those things and Daryl admitted he was surprised. Merle didn't do anything except turn and walk out of the shed without a word. A few minutes later, he heard his truck start up and then fade away as he drove off.

Daryl sighed heavily and tried to think of another time he felt more like shit. And that was actually surprising to him because Merle made him feel like shit so much throughout their lives.

And then he wondered if he had made Merle like shit for once.

He doubted it.

…

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