This was originally several ficlets posted on tumblr. I've edited the opening and added a scene or two and put it all together. It's a Bethyl relationship, but the main feature is really the Merle/Beth friendship.
Just some minor warnings for Merle being Merle (inappropriate and gross in his flirtations) in the beginning, and some mentions of past child abuse and scars, etc.
Everything has long-since acquired that pleasant haze that Merle gets when he's drunk or high. The one that pushes away everything in his mind, leaves him able to just feel good and focus on doing more things that make him feel good.
He feels good right now. He's laying down… somewhere. Truth is he's not sure where, except it's a bit cold. But that doesn't matter, because he's got his head in the lap of some sweet blonde thing and he's just smiling crookedly up at her as she puts his phone on speaker and dials.
"Merle, I told you not to call me tonight, I ain't-" His brother's voice crackles through his beat up cell-phone, and Merle opens his mouth to shout hello but the sweet blonde cuts him off instead.
"Excuse me? Sorry, but this isn't Merle. Well, I guess it must be Merle's phone, though. I'm Beth."
"What? Who is this?" Merle rolls his eyes. Baby brother ain't always so clever. Hell he's three sheets to the wind and even he knows her name is Betty.
"I told you, my name is Beth. Who is this?" Oh, Beth. Right. Well it ain't like he's gonna need to know her name to bang her, right? As long as she knows his, cause he's sure she'll be screaming it out for him in a little bit.
Even his little brother knows that. "Daryl Dixon. Look, if you're Merle's piece of ass for the night, I ain't got time-"
"Ew! Look, I'm not hooking up with your brother, okay?" Hey! Merle shifts in her lap and tries to sit up and protest, only to have her grip his shoulder and push him back down far more firmly than he'd have expected she'd be capable of.
Daryl's sigh comes right through the phone line as he goes on, "Fine, then why the hell've you got my brother's phone?"
Above him, the blonde slowly pulls her hand back from his shoulder. "Well, assuming this is your brother-" Merle nods and she goes on, "-I found him passed out on the bench in front of my apartment, and he asked me to call you." Oh, right! He remembers now. Or he remembers some of it. There was a bar or two, or three, and at the last one he'd gotten kicked out for trying to score with some hot brunette who turned out to have a guy with her. Then he'd gone wandering down the street and got tired, and he'd been stretching out relaxing when a damn little vision with big blue eyes and blonde hair came up to him, clearly just looking for some fun.
Above him, the blonde snorts and goes on, "Well first he tried to grab my ass, and then he asked me for something I will not repeat over the phone, and then he asked me to call you." From where he's laying down with his head in her lap, Merle grins. That sounds about right, though it's all a bit hazy in his head. Except her ass, of course. He remembers her tight little ass, and he'd try for it again except she's sitting and he's laying down and getting up seems like too much work right now.
"Yeah that sounds like Merle," comes Daryl's dry voice through the phone, "Look, just tell me where you are and I'll come get 'em."
"I'll text you the address, and don't worry, I'll stay with him until you come, okay?" She actually reaches down again and pats his shoulder, and it makes his brow furrow cause it's kinda… well, nice. He ain't used to people patting him all nice like that, and for a moment it confuses him before his drunken brain seizes on the image of that tight little ass. Yeah, that's better. She must just be tryin' to flirt with him, and that ain't a surprise. Who wouldn't want a piece of Merle?
"You ain't gotta do that," Daryl grunts, the sounds coming through the phone indicating he's on the move and walking now, "Merle'll be fine…"
"Don't be silly. He might be a… pig, or whatever, but I'm not gonna leave him here to wander off. I'll see you in a bit. Bye!"
The next twenty minutes or so are a bit of a blur. But through the haze of going in and out, the one thing that stays clear is the girl he's with. She never leaves him, even though in some distant part of his mind he knows he's being an ass. He knows a girl like her ain't usually the type to put up with an ass like him either, so he ain't sure why she stays.
But she does. Even when he keeps trying to pick her up, but especially after some other drunk comes wandering by and tries to convince her he can 'show her a better time' than the 'old man' she's with. That has him up and on his feet and swinging, scaring the asshole off easily because Merle may be wasted but he's still a big, intimidating dude.
The blonde has been extra friendly and warm with since then, getting him back to the bench where he was laying down on his back as she perched next to him and peered down at him with a smile.
She just kept smiling at him, which was all the encouragement he needed to keep trying, "Aww come on, you sure you don't wanna sit on Uncle Merle's lap? I ain't Santa, but I'll give you a gift if you're a good girl. Hell, I'll give y' a gift if you're a naughty girl, too…"
"Does that ever work for you?" The girl- Betty?- raises her eyebrow almost primly but there's a smirk playing about her lips as she keeps on, "I'm serious, does that work? I mean, do you ever pull that line and actually get a girl to sit in your lap?"
"Hey, you tryin' t' say Merle don't get none? Cause I get plenty, girl. I still got it, okay?"
Merle slaps his hand on his puffed-out chest as the blonde-haired girl giggles and replies, "Oh I'm sure you do, Merle Dixon. Just not tonight."
"Awww, sweet thing, you really know how to break a man's heart, don't you? Too sweet for an ass like me, huh? But I meant what I said earlier, my baby brother would-" Merle breaks off at the sound of footsteps and looks up to see his baby brother coming towards him. That face is more than familiar; hell, he knows it better than his own sometimes. Daryl is wearing his hunting clothes, and if Merle wasn't so wasted he might feel guilty for having interrupted his hunting weekend, but right now he's just happy to see him. Pushing up too quickly to his feet, he sways in place as he drawls, "Heyyyyy, it's Darylina! I knew you'd come and get your favorite brother."
Rolling his eyes, Daryl ducks down just in time to catch Merle as he sways to his feet. As Daryl swings an arm around his back, Merle hears his little brother reply lowly, "You're my only brother, Merle. C'mon, let's go… oh, uh, thanks for keepin' an eye on him…."
Merle might be drunk (and high) but he can tell the moment Daryl gets a good look at his saving angel. His brother might not be a talker but it's still obvious the way he trails off and goes still as both of them look up at the same time to the blonde who has risen off the bench to stand in front of them. She's standing there looking like some kinda actual angel in a white sundress, her blonde hair in loose waves around her shoulders and glowing in the streetlight above, her eyes big and blue as the goddamn sky and her pink lips curved up into the sweetest damn smile Merle knows he's ever seen.
He can't help thinking it's the sweetest smile Daryl has probably ever seen, too. Hell, it ain't like either of them have ever had much sweetness in their lives before. Not even Daryl, who had always been the sweeter of the pair. It was how he'd known from almost the moment he'd seen her that this was the kinda girl his brother might fall for. Nothing like the kinda girl who would ever have gone for a girl like Merle, though that hadn't stopped him from trying.
And Daryl is just standing there gaping like a big-mouthed bass, until Merle bursts out in a rumbling chuckle beside him. "See? I knew you'd be sweet on her the moment y' saw her, baby brother. Go on, get her number. Old Merle ain't goin' nowhere till you do…"
Seeming to finally find his voice, Daryl manages to gruffly get out, "Sorry about him. He's a dick when he's drunk."
"Excuse you," Merle slurs with a rough ruffle of Daryl's hair. "I'm always a dick, thank you very much."
"It's fine," Merle's Angel replies as she eyes them both up and down and gives them another smile, "I actually think he's secretly a sweetheart. I mean he's very crude, but he's not so bad. He actually stopped a bigger creep from coming onto me earlier, so when he's sobered up a bit, you can tell him thanks for me."
Damn right he did. Merle puffs up his chest in pride, about to brag when Daryl just replies gruffly, "Alright." Merle almost groaned himself. How had his brother gotten to be this old with so little game? It wasn't for lack of trying, so he couldn't blame himself as a big brother. Hadn't he tried and tried to hook Daryl up with hot pieces here and there? But Daryl had never been interested… although that was different than how he is right now, staring at her like he's waiting for something but doesn't know what.
At least, until Beth takes a few steps forward and gives Merle's arm an affectionate squeeze. "It was nice meeting you, Merle. You take it easier next time, okay?" She turns as if to go and then stops, and when she glances over her shoulder her eyes find Daryl's instead and a soft smile crosses her lips as she murmurs, "And Daryl? I put my number in your brother's phone… call me sometime. According to Merle, we're made for each other."
And as she walks away, Merle just laughs. Gives a great big guffaw as Daryl tries to turn him away and get him in the car. His mind is usually a mess on a sober day, let alone when he's drunk, but the entire drive home she stays clear in his mind, and he hounds Daryl about writing down her number until he's half-sure his brother might actually get up the guts to do it.
He'd be an idiot not to.
Sun shines through the open window, warming the entirety of the tiny apartment. Through the dim haze of sleep filter several sounds: the faint clang of pots and pans, the distant sound of a shower running, and the soft sweet sound of a feminine voice. It's that and the smell of food in the air that makes Merle blink his eyes hazily open with a low groan.
He regrets opening his eyes the moment the sun hits them, sending a throbbing pain right through his temple. Hungover, again. It's nothing new to him; the hangover at least. But the sounds and smells and the warmth, that's new, and it takes him a few moments to figure out what the hell is going on.
He remembers only some of last night. His favorite new bar, a couple beers and oh yeah, that hot red-haired bartender with the magnificent rack and the tight little ass. The one that can get him to do just about anything, including paying for far too many shots of whiskey. He doesn't remember much after that. Grabbing her ass and getting kicked out, being unable to find his bike, the bouncer from the bar shoving him unceremoniously into the back of a cab that had brought him...
Here. To the tiny apartment his baby brother had gotten a couple weeks ago, right after he'd started dating Beth. Or, as he likes to call her, Angel.
Merle's eyes open more confidently this time and through the bright sunshine he focuses on the moving shape ahead of him, across the room. Where the living room carpet turns into linoleum and the tiny little two-counter wide kitchen is currently occupied by what he might once have been tempted to think is a drunken vision. A slender young girl with her long blonde hair shining in the sunlight, barefoot and dressed in nothing but what seems to be one of his brother's sleeveless flannel shirts. She's swaying in the kitchen as she cooks what must be the source of the delicious scents in the air, and as she moves, she sings. Her voice sounds like an angel, which fits the nickname he'd first given her, though that wasn't how she'd earned it.
She'd been his saving angel that night, finding him passed out in front of her building and stopping him from getting brought it or wandering into traffic or anything. He'd known from the moment he saw her that she was too good for a man like him, though that hadn't stopped him from trying quite a few times. He wasn't anywhere near a monk, after all, and she had the sweetest little ass he'd ever seen. But no, he'd known from the start just who would really like his angel, though it had taken fucking forever to convince Daryl to make a move.
(He could remember waking up similarly hung over the day after that, although it had been to a chilly apartment and his brother's annoyed face, instead of warmth and the smell of breakfast and Beth's singing. Later, after he'd taken a shower and had two cups of coffee, he'd shaken his brother's shoulder and grunted at him. "So you gonna call my Angel, or what?" Daryl had just rolled his eyes at him, "Angel?" And Merle'd grinned, easy as he always did. "Well I tried to call her sweet tits, but she didn't seem to like it, so Angel it is.")
And Angel it still was, although 'sweet tits' occasionally made an appearance when he was wasted, usually earning him a smack to the back of the head. Right now he's not wasted, just just hungover. Stretching on the couch, he glances again in the direction of the kitchen and sits up with a faint groan. "Angel, you spoilin' me this morning?"
She glances over her shoulder with a sweet smile that makes his heart ache, because until her he ain't never had nobody smile at him like that before her. Like he deserves it.
(It doesn't surprise him to think that a smile like that could bring his baby brother to where he is now; in an actual apartment, with a steady job and a fucking bank account and everything.)
"Depends. You think you deserve spoilin' after last night, Merle Dixon?"
He climbs to his feet and sways in place before dropping back down onto the couch with a groan. He can't even respond to her; his head is fucking throbbing away and every inch of him aches.
(He thinks for just a second that he's getting too damn old for this, but what else is there? He's too old to change, too, ain't he? Can't teach an old dog new tricks, after all.)
Beth's voice softens, pulling him out of his thoughts as she turned towards him a bit more. "There's two advil and a glass of water on the coffee table for you, Merle, and I've got a pot of coffee brewing. Should be ready at any moment." Her smile is brighter than the damn sunshine and it sends a sharp spike right through him; not to his head, but to his heart. She's too damn good to him. Good to his brother, yeah, that makes sense. Daryl has always been the sweet one of the pair. But him? He's a no-good nasty red-neck, more trouble than he's worth. He's never been the kinda guy to deserve a girl like her, smiling at him like the fucking sun.
But she keeps doing it. Even smiles wider as she adds, "Now, do you like blueberry pancakes better or chocolate chip? Choose wisely!"
He takes the medicine first, swallowing it down before slowly rising to his feet. This time he manages it, and even makes it the couple steps to the small table tucked against the wall, right at the edge of the carpet near the kitchen. As he plops down into his chair he stretches his legs in front of him and eyes her up and down with a sigh. "Blueberry, Angel. You spoil me. Have I ever told you how much I love ya?"
"Inappropriately sometimes, but yes, you have." Beth just shakes her head, but she's smiling as she grabs the coffee pot to pour him a cup just the way he likes it; black, with only one sugar.
When she hands it to him, he drawls, "Seriously, if my baby brother doesn't marry you I will, Angel."
And she giggles and blushes, and frankly, it's worth the glare he gets from Daryl a second later when his brother comes out of the bedroom, hair wet from the shower and dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing much else.
It takes him a few moments for the impact of that to hit. For him to realize that his brother being shirtless means that Daryl's scars are fully exposed and yet his brother doesn't even seem bothered. He just comes up behind Beth and she turns into him, and her hands run up his back right over those scars, and Daryl... Daryl doesn't even mind. Just the opposite. Merle can see him relaxing at her touch, as if she makes him forget that his scars even exist.
His own scars have long since lost sensation, but he can feel them burning in that moment as he shifts in place and averts his gaze. It ain't for him, what they share. It never has been. Even if he wants it to be.
They take her hunting for the first time as a trio. Merle would have guessed they'd want to go just the two of them, but Beth is almost insistent that he comes. He's so unused to being wanted in that way that he keeps checking to make sure they want him there; at least, he does in his own way by ribbing them about wanting some private time.
But his Angel keeps insisting and he ain't gonna deny her so he goes, and in the end he's glad he does. He's always noticed how Daryl is in his element in the woods; Merle has felt the same way, to a lesser extent. Despite having already noticed how well the two of them fit, it's something unexpected to realize that Beth looks just as home out here in the forest.
She walks between them both, her eyes as sharp as Daryl's, if not as well trained just yet. When they show her tracks or explain to her how to read and follow them, she focuses like it's the most fascinating thing she's ever heard and even better, she remembers it. He's standing there watching her crouched next to Daryl, pointing out rabbit tracks on the ground, and the pride he feels is not only new, it pales in comparison to the look on Daryl's face as he watches her. Like his brother is realizing all over again how he feels about her, like he's realizing how damn perfect she is, not just in general but for him. It's so intimate a moment that Merle has to look away, and if he feels a bit guilty for breaking the mood by gruffly interrupting them a moment later, he doesn't apologize for it.
It isn't the first time in the day that he feels left out, but there are plenty of times he feels included, and sometimes the two come back to back. Like when Beth makes her first kill, tracking a deer right alongside them until they catch up to it. It's Daryl who gives her his bow and Merle who watches in amusement (and amazement, really, because he's never seen Daryl give his bow to anyone before) as his brother helps her line up the shot, standing behind her and guiding her, showing her how to breathe.
Their eyes are on the doe, but his are on them and the way they move together almost like one damn person, and he doesn't know how he feels about it. He doesn't know how he's supposed to feel about it. Cause it's always been him and Daryl, ever since Daryl ran away from home with him, it's been the two of them. Sometimes they split up but they always ended up back together.
Only now they're three, and he wonders if he should feel jealous or something, but how can he when it's his Angel? When she's so damn sweet and she smiles at him all the time, and she makes his brother so damn… happy?
Maybe that's what he's jealous of. The smile on Daryl's face and the fact that she put it there. (Or maybe it's the fact that he don't have anyone to make him smile like that, except that ain't entirely true. He's got her.)
And he does smile seconds later when she looses a bolt and gets the deer right in it's heart-lung spot, sending it tumbling to the ground. He smiles watching her and Daryl hug, and if he feels left out it's only for a moment before she's turning just as quickly to wrap her arms around him in her excitement, too.
He's included, and it feels as odd as it feels good. But it does feel good and maybe that's why he almost smiles when she gets the three of them to pose together and has them take a picture on her phone, Daryl's arm tugging her close as she laughs.
Later she prints it out and frames it and it sits right in the center of her and Daryl's coffee table. Prime placement. Like it's special to her. Likethey're special to her.
(He ain't never been special to anyone before.)
For him it ain't taking the photograph that's his best memory though, or even her getting her first deer. It's the sight of her on her knees in the middle of the woods with her hands right inside that deer carcass, not even flinching as she helps them dress it, and just giggling as he takes one look at her and drawls again, "Marry me, Angel?"
Asking Beth to marry him becomes their thing, in a way. He comes by their place a lot more than he'd expected he would when Daryl first got it, and not only because he's drunk and needs a place to crash. He comes by before weekend hunting trips, he pops by to help Daryl fix the plumbing or something, and he even comes over for dinner with the two of them sometimes, almost like a family, which is weird. But he also stops by during the day when Daryl isn't home, because he knows Beth will always make him a sandwich, and ask him about his day.
Every time she cooks for him, he asks her to marry him. Once or twice he does it with a whistle, too, when she comes out in some cute little sundress or a short skirt, showing off the long legs he'd never have expected in a tiny thing like her. ("Come on, sweet thing. Marry me and make me the happiest redneck around." "One of these days I'll say yes, old man, and give you a heart attack!" "Yeah, but I'd die happier than an old coot with a fistful of viagra, Angel.")
Daryl grumbles about it, punches his arm or glares at him each time, but Beth always reassures him and Merle knows she doesn't mind.
(He might be an asshole, but if he thought she'd minded, he'd have stopped in a heartbeat. Cause sure, he's a dick, but she really is his angel, and he'd clock anyone who upset her. Including himself.)
But it's not the food or the short skirts or even her smile that bring him over there most of the time. Especially when Daryl isn't around. Or maybe it is, but in a different sort of way. Maybe it's because all of that is a part of who Beth is, and she's the reason he comes over there.
She lets him talk. She gets stories out of him that he ain't never told to anyone before. She just sits there across the table with that sweet smile and those big blue eyes and he opens up to her, as if somehow her inviting expression is the key to a lock that he thought had rusted shut decades ago.
He tells her things he's never told Daryl, either. Like how as a kid he used to let his Pa beat him, instead of his Ma. How sometimes the old man would whip him until he couldn't stand up and then he'd go beat his Ma anyway. He tells her about all the times he went to jail, he tells her about running away, he tells her about getting into drugs and how sometimes he drinks because its the only way to forget all of those memories.
He tells her one day that he's afraid of what might happen if he stops drinking. He tells her that he worries that if he does, it'll be all he can think about. Those memories, and the darkness. He tells her he's worried that not being on the drink, or on pills, will make him turn into his Pa somehow. Like his own anger is softened by the drugs he does and the haze it puts him in. She offers to go with him to an AA meeting and he almost knocks the table over. Shouts at her like he's never shouted at her before, and the guilt bowls him over just as much as the hurt look in her eyes.
He leaves that day earlier than normal, and doesn't come back for a week. Not until she calls him up for the first time; wakes him with that sweet soft voice through the crackling phone line and asks him to come home.
He's laying there on some grimy bed in a piece of shit motel room with more bugs than amenities and a woman whose name he doesn't know by his side, and then it hits him. She says come home and he doesn't scoff. He realizes instead that he has a home. It ain't a place though, its her. Her and Daryl, but especially her. His Angel.
He comes back, and the next night she and Daryl both go with him to an AA meeting. It's a turning point, and he knows it, even before they get into the car at the end of the night and he takes her hand and asks her to marry him for the hundredth time.
All he can do is goggle at her when she holds up her hand, shows him the sparkle of a little ring, and tells him she's already spoken for.
When he finally speaks, all he can manage is a laugh and a gruff, "About time!" He hopes she can't see that the sight of it makes his stomach sink.
He steals her away at her own wedding. Not literally, of course. He doesn't scoop her up and carry her out to his bike and drive away with her. The way he feels about her, it ain't like that. He doesn't want her; not in the biblical sense, even if she is the prettiest girl he's ever seen.
But he is jealous. Has been almost from the start. He's jealous of his brother getting to wake up to her sweet smell every day. He's jealous that Daryl has someone he feels comfortable with, someone he lets not only see his scars but touch them.
(Once he came over without warning and used his key. He made it all the way to the bedroom and peered in before he saw them. Daryl was sitting on the end of the bed with his head hung, and Beth was on her knees behind him in nothing but one of his shirts. She was kissing across his back, tracing over his scars with her lips as if it were a map she'd memorized a long time ago. He could see the tension easing from his brother with each press of her lips. He'd slipped away, feeling like he'd caught a glimpse of something that he was never meant to have. Like he'd looked into the sun and longed to be burned up by it the way his brother was.)
He's jealous because he thinks that she's Daryl's family, in truth. He's just a hanger-on, an accessory. Old tattered luggage that got brought along for the ride because no one had the heart to discard it just yet.
So he steals her for one last dance. Brings her out on the dance floor and tries to be a man about it, tries not to feel a lump in his throat at the fact that she really does look like an angel all in white, with a crown of soft blonde hair like her own damn halo. She rests her hands on his chest and they sway in place and for once, they're just quiet. For a few minutes, anyway.
He hasn't had anything to drink and not just because they chose not to serve alcohol. He could have brought a flask, after all. Six months ago he would have, but not now. He's been sober six months because of her. Well, five months and three weeks, right down to the night she and Daryl went with him to his first meeting.
So he isn't drunk, but he feels a bit like it as he blurts out in a rough voice, "Gonna miss you, Angel."
"Why?" She blinks up at him, the blue in her eyes even better than the sky. "You goin' somewhere, Merle Dixon?"
He can't find the words, for some reason. Usually with her, it's the opposite. Usually she pulls them right up from the bottom of his shriveled and rotten heart and into the light of today but for whatever reason, there's a thickness in his throat and he can't force the words past it.
But Beth knows. She always knows. He's seen her do it time and time again; with Daryl, and with him. She looks at him and she just knows, and he sees that in her eyes as she leans up on her toes and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, her breath grazing against his stubble as she whispers, "It's gonna be okay, Merle. I'm still gonna be your Angel, okay? Always."
He ain't crying or nothing. He's a man, after all. If there's a stinging in his eyes, it's just cause she made him put on this stupid damn cologne this morning and he hates the smell.
Ain't no way in hell it's anything else, even if the burning in his eyes does make him hold her the tiniest bit closer.
A year later, Beth announces that she's pregnant. She tells him special, she says, after Daryl of course but before even her own family. They're at one of their lunches in that still-tiny apartment of theirs, sitting at the table eating sandwiches and she tells him he's gonna be an Uncle.
He doesn't have any cologne on, so he can't blame the burning in his eyes in that so he does his best to focus on something else. "Place like this, too damn small for the two of you even without a kid. You gonna keep the baby in your closet?"
She giggles and shakes her head. "No. We're gonna get a new place. We went looking this weekend. We found this little cottage out in the woods. It's yellow, and there's space in the back for a little garden. It's only got two bedrooms right now, but Daryl says he can build on a third in time for the baby."
That makes his brow furrow. "Why you need a third? You got two, right? One for you, one for the kid. You planning on having more?"
"No." Her voice is so damn gentle, as soft as her touch as she reaches out and rests a hand over his. "One for us, one for the kid, and one for you, Merle. That is... if you think you might wanna have a place to stay."
There it is again. That goddamned burning in his eyes that makes everything go blurry until he looks down. He pulls his hand away but slowly, so she knows he doesn't hate her touch. (He's never once hated her touch.) Nothing he can think to say sounds right, and in the back of his mind he can faintly hear his Pa, calling him a sissy. But just when the crack of a belt echoes through his mind he looks up and sees her smiling at him, the most open, warm, welcoming thing he's ever seen and just like that, his Pa's voice vanishes again.
"I reckon maybe it wouldn't be so bad." He's gruff as always, especially as he grunts, "But I'd best help you. Baby brother's alright and all, but you deser- I mean, I ain't wantin' my niece or nephew in a room fallin' down on them or nothin', alright?"
And she just smiles as she picks up her glass of sweet tea and takes a slow sip. "Alright, Merle."
With him helping, they get the room built in half the time. At first he tries to act like he isn't gonna live there permanently. He makes a point of spending half his nights there and half of them 'out', though spending them out ain't as fun anymore now that he's cut out alcohol and drugs. Soon he's there most nights, except for the times he goes out hunting. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Daryl.
They both do that less and less these days and he knows why. Cause of his Angel. If he thought she glowed before, it's nothing compared to how she is now that she's pregnant. She's damn well radiant, and her belly gets bigger and bigger every day. He doesn't say anything, but he thinks it's sweet the way she sings to it; just as sweet as how he sometimes sees Daryl talking to it, or catches his brother standing behind her with his hands on her belly.
Daryl is busy taking as many jobs as he can; fixing cars and building things for people, trying to save up money for when the baby comes. Merle stays with Beth, and he doesn't mind, although she tells him more than once that he's driving her crazy.
He can't help wanting to help her. He'll grab her arms and sit her down and fetch things for her, lift heavy boxes before she can get to them, even tries to cook when she's looking a bit tired. She shouts at him that she can handle herself, but she never means it. Maybe she can even see it in his eyes, that tiny bit of hurt that comes from being yelled at by her. Cause she always apologizes. Always nudges that big belly into him for a hug and kisses his cheek and promises him she's still his Angel and always will be.
She gets the weirdest damn cravings and for whatever reason, it embarrasses her. Like she thinks people might make fun of her for it, or something. He's always had an iron stomach; used to say he could eat just about anything. So he puts it to use. Whatever she craves, he eats it to. He tells her no one would dare make fun of him for nothing, which means they won't make fun of her, either. When she smiles at him, he forgets that pickles and pineapple taste disgusting together on pizza.
He hasn't tried flirting with her since she and Daryl got engaged, but that changes again in her seventh month. The walls in the cottage can be a bit thin sometimes (after the baby comes, he and Daryl have plans to fix that), and one morning he hears her crying to Daryl about how she's hideous, she's a whale, she's turning into a monster. Whatever Daryl does to calm her down, it seems to work. His brother loves her like she's his world, so Merle doesn't doubt he knows exactly what to say.
But he knows doubts like that don't go away, for pregnant women. Young as he was, he remembers his Ma when she was pregnant with Daryl, and she didn't have anyone to tell her how good she looked. Except him, and he was just a kid then. He ain't a kid now, hasn't been for a long time. Beth has Daryl, but she has Merle too. He ain't gonna let his Angel down, not when she's still the prettiest girl he's ever seen.
So he flirts. Whistles when she walks by, tilts his head playfully like he's checking out her ass. Jokes with her that his brother is damn lucky he caught her when he did. Even calls her sweet-tits once, and it's worth the smack to the back of his head to see the way she blushes and laughs.
Between his flirting and the loving things he knows his brother whispers to her in private, he never hears her cry about it again.
He's outside in the waiting room when the baby is born. The nurses will only let Daryl in, but Merle is just outside, pacing almost like it's his own damn kid.
He's the first person they call in once the baby is born and cleaned up. He bursts into the room, and she's the one he looks for first. "She okay?" He tries to hide the frantic sound of his voice, tries to ignore the thickness in his throat as he looks over at his brother, who is ushering him into the room.
"She's fine, Merle, see?"
And she is. She's laying on the bed all worn out, exhausted but still smiling. He'd heard her screaming from outside the waiting room for ten damn hours, and if he didn't already know she was the strongest women in the world, he'd have been sure of it now.
There's a baby in her arms, and it's just as perfect as she is. He comes around to the side of the bed and looks down into the swaddled up blanket as Daryl sits back down next to Beth and leans into her.
"Not so bad," he says gruffly, swallowing back the thickness in his voice and blinking away that stinging sensation in her eyes. "If you're lucky,she'll take after Beth in looks, baby brother."
"He," Beth murmurs, pulling her eyes from her newborn to look up at her brother-in-law with a soft, happy smile. "It's a boy."
"So I got me a nephew, then?" He rubs one hand roughly over his eyes and shoves his other hand in his pocket, but he can't seem to stop justlooking at the little thing, so pink and tiny and perfect.
And then Beth reaches out for his hand and guides it towards the baby. "His name is Hunter," she murmurs, showing him how to lightly stroke his fingers across the baby's head, where he has the faintest little fuzz of blond hair. "Hunter Merle Dixon."
This time he can't banish the burning in his eyes. But when the tears come, no one says a word. And his Angel just smiles at him, and for once he's just happy. For once he doesn't stop to wonder if he deserves any of this. Because he knows that regardless, it's his.
His family.