Hey there, everyone!

I apologize for this being so delayed and that this may be forcibly fluffy; I'm just getting the flufftastic before the sad times start, which is coming next chapter. Now that I'm on break, I should be able to pump out a few chapters. The next one is almost finished and will probably be up some time tomorrow.

I'm so glad as always that you're enjoying and reviewing, favoriting, and following. It means the world to me. Thank you so much, and if the next chapter isn't up before Christmas as planned, I hope, if you're celebrating, that your holiday is lovely and filled with joy. :)

-Gabby

"What ya' doin' with Ed's woman?" Merle shoved Daryl against the door of his truck. He had just gotten home from another round of drug-related jail time, and while Daryl didn't assume he would be receiving a warm and fuzzy welcome from his brother, this wasn't quite what he expected either. With a hand on either one of his younger brother's shoulders, Merle held the smaller man against the cool metal. "The fuck were ya' thinkin', boy? Ya' don't up an' take another man's wife! It just ain't right! A friend's woman's off limits, little bro!"

Attempting to look at him, Daryl struggled to open his swollen left eye. Merle had caught him leaving the auto shop where he had picked up a second job and immediately started throwing the punches. "Well, didn' Pa always tell ya' ta' treat yer girl right? Always told us not t'lay a finger on any girl." Daryl seethed at him, spitting the blood that had pooled in his mouth out towards the older Dixon. "Ed wasn't treatin' her n'good a' all. Didn' even getta' give 'er a kiss 'til th' divorce was done a couplea' weeks ago. Lord knows I wanted ta'."

Merle's eyes narrowed at his younger brother's words. "I dun' believe that none. Ed was always good ta' that girl even after she got tha' damn butch haircut and gave'm a lil' girl when he wanted a boy." The two stared at each other for a moment, Daryl shoved up against his truck with Merle's hands tightening on his shoulders. Silent words flew between them through their panicked and pained gazes alike. "Ya've gatta' be shittin' me, Daryl. Christ, he's my friend. Have ya' sealed the deal with her yet?"

The blood beginning to stop pooling in his mouth, Daryl glared at the older Dixon. "Tha' all ya' care 'bout Merle? Well, I ain't even thought 'bout it 'cause she ain't really lookin' fer tha' kinda comfort righ' now." Swiftly, he pulled his leg up to kick Merle straight in the gut, successfully getting his brother off of him. With a thud, Merle landed on his back on the gravel behind him. "Ya' hafta' be shittin' me if yar' gunna choose tha' womun bea'er over me. Kin is kin, 'member?"

Looking up at his baby brother's battered face, his left eye was swollen shut, his nose was bent toward the right, blood streaming from it, and his lower lip had grown double its usual size, more blood dribbling out of his mouth. Daryl's boot rested on his brother's chest, his eye that was able to open focusing on Merle's face that now had drips of his blood on it. "He 'us really hittin' up on 'er then?"

Daryl nodded. "Broke'er leg in three places kickin' tha' shi' outta 'er once when she ga' home t'late. Treated 'er like yesterday's trash. Think uh'lady oughta go through tha'? I know ya's an ass when yer high off ya' ass, but I know sober ya' ain't gonna treat no woman like tha'."

Merle had no words as Daryl lifted his foot off of him and staggered over to his truck, heaved his injured form into the driver's seat, and then drove off. In his mind, he felt his brother had just posed a ultimatum for him: a choice between the only friend who stuck with him throughout his life or the only family he had left.

"Merle, could you please pass the turkey?" Carol requested, pointing to the platter the light and dark meat was upon. Merle raised his eyes from his plate to her then shifted his gaze to the turkey before handing it over to her. "Thank you very much." It still struck him as being odd to see her with someone who wasn't Ed, let alone with his brother. For as long as he had known her, she and his old friend had been attached at the hip. Through high school, they both had seemed to be happy as could be, but all those years they had been together, he hadn't seen her look as content as she did.

Christmastime usually brought joy about to many people, but the way this woman smiled at his brother was something other than the holiday spirit. She just seemed happy. There was nothing else in her expression, a joyed feeling radiating from her being. "Merle, potatas," Daryl said at him with a mouth full of food already. A smirk grew across the older brother's face as he concocted a cheeky response in his head.

Much to his misfortune, Carol's little girl, Sophia, piped up instead. "Mama always says you've gotta say please when you ask for something," she chimed in, eyes lifting to mischievously look at Daryl. "Isn't that right, Daryl?" She giggled as he shoved her shoulder gently and mutter 'please' under his breath. "Don't be mad. Those are Mama's rules not mine." She gave him a small smile. "Besides, Mama always says you need to brush up on your manners."

"Don't know what yer talkin' 'bout, lil' miss. Daryl over 'ere's always been the good one." Sophia suppressed a laugh as Merle handed a suspicious Daryl the bowl of potatoes. Giving his younger brother a toothy smile, he turned to Sophia and brought his voice down to a whisper. "'Cept this one time I took an arrow ta' tha' rear end when my baby brother over there 'us still learnin' how t'aim. Man, it hurt like hell, and I ain't never heard no one yell like I did at'im."

When Sophia burst in to hysterics and even Carol had to hold back her laughs, Daryl just looked down at his food. "Reckon I shoulda' shot ya' in the head. Wouldn't have ya' givin' me an achin' in my own now," he grumbled, slopping a mound of potatoes onto his plate. A chuckle still escaping Carol, she pushed his shoulder, mumbling some along the lines of 'play nice' to him. "He's embarrassin' me. Like hell I'm gonna be nice to him." Carol turned to him with eyebrows raised, and suddenly, his stern look turned to that of a scared child. Something Merle hadn't ever seen even when their mama was still alive happened then. "Sorry, Merle. Could ya' not tell stories like that ta' the girl at least? Embarrasses me, y'know?" Never once had Daryl so easily apologized to anyone. When they were little, he would only even give the slightest apology if their mother screamed at him or their father threatened to beat him. How much had changed almost scared the daylights out of him.

In fact, he hated change more than anything in the entire world. If it were up to him, everything would stay the exact same every day of every month of every year, and seeing Daryl so comfortable in such a family setting was the opposite of remaining unchanged. Even after dinner was finished, he helped pile up the empty plates and walked them in to the kitchen for Carol. Merle couldn't stand it much longer. His brother was never one to help out with household chores, so he couldn't fathom why he would be doing such a thing now. Let alone, the younger brother had insisted he bring the dishes in for his woman, claiming that she had no place doing so with an aching back. "He always like that?" Merle posed the question toward Sophia, who giggled in response. "It ain't no joke, kid. I ain't never seen anythin' like this."

His eyes followed the pair to kitchen where Daryl placed the large stack of plates, casserole dishes, and trays upon the countertop next to the sink. Before turning to her task of washing the dishes, Carol smiled up at him and rested a hand right above his elbow, giving it a light squeeze. "Goddamn, he's gone all damn soft on me." He observed his baby brother move himself behind the woman and lean forward over her shoulder. "Now, he ain't even showin' damn shame!"

"No," Sophia interjected, tapping his hand. "Look." As per the little girl's wish, he looked again at the sight in the kitchen, a little more closely this time around. Daryl's hands hovered above Carol's hips, so slightly they almost appeared to be touching the material of her shirt. Likewise, his head was not buried in her neck, but rather, it was less than an inch away from her skin. "He's been doin' that lately. I'm not sure why." Though he tried his hardest not to, Merle couldn't help but frown at how much he was acting like their father—the father Daryl never got to know.

Before he was born, their daddy was a gentler person, but the postpartum depression that set in on their mother killed Mister Dixon inside. The woman who was once his everything was crumbling before him. After Daryl was born, Merle's and his father took no liking to him, thinking he was some child of hell, as no normal child could to that to their mother. Even so, Daryl was doing just as his father did while his mother was pregnant with him: he hovered. He wouldn't touch her—afraid she would break at the slightest touch—but would be there to watch over her carefully. "Ain't nothin' a Dixon wouldn't do." Merle shrugged. "My baby brother's bein' real good to yer momma?" The young girl stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Good, Dixons don't treat no woman bad."

"You guys have an unwritten code or something?"

"Don't be a smartass, kid."