Summary:
It looks like they've found a sanctuary at Mike's but if they scratch beneath the surface everything is not what it seems. Will Merle figure it out in time?
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Chapter Text
Merle came back the next day just in time for lunch.
'Sorry. It got late so I ended up crashin' around a friend's.' Was all he said. He wasn't feeling very talkative with his thumping head that was doing its very best to kill him.
'Never mind. We all need to blow off steam now and again, don't we, Daryl?' Mike reached over to where he sat at the table and ruffled his hair. The boy nodded and looked up at the man in adoration and Merle couldn't help but compare it to the way he looked at him and felt a stab of jealousy. Not to mention annoyance at their host's cheery mood. Even if he had had been spending more time outside the house lately than in it with them, that didn't give Mike the right to completely take over and try to steal him from him. Daryl was his brother, his blood after all, not Mike's. Although he had to admit that the man had done more for them during these couple of weeks than their own father had managed to do in a whole year but even that didn't any of this OK.
The man looked up and only smiled indulgently over Daryl's head before he went back to cooking.
'Ya want some bacon, son?' He asked him cheerfully, holding the sizzling pan in hand, ready to put some on the third plate already laid out for him at the table. Something about that made the teenager want to grit his teeth.
'No, thanks. Ain't hungry. Any news from Dad?' Merle asked like he always did several times a day. He couldn't believe that their old man hadn't crumbled yet and phoned to see how Daryl was despite the callous way he'd chucked them out.
Mike shook his head in disappointment for them before his features brightened up again. 'Hey, maybe you and Daryl can stay here awhile longer, huh?
Until everything settles back down at home at least?' He almost pleaded.
Merle just stared at the man without giving him so much as a gruff grunt in reply, his head was hurting too much and the last thing he wanted to do was think that far ahead or talk. Let alone eat greasy food – the smell alone was enough to turn his stomach. He knew he probably came across as ungrateful but he had to admit, his hangover wasn't the only reason for his nausea. Watching the two of them together, even though he knew Mike only meant well was at least part of it.
He put it all down to him being the overprotective big brother he always was, but fuck it, who could blame him? Especially not after recent events. With that last bitter thought, he left them to stomp grumpily back upstairs to sleep it off but couldn't help overhearing part of their conversation carry before he closed the door behind him.
'What's wrong with him?' He heard his brother ask innocently.
'Too much beer probably.' Mike joked. To his intense annoyance, Merle heard Daryl chuckle along, sounding as if they were laughing at him.
…
But what neither of the boys knew was that Will had already called several times over the previous days before he finally took the advice Mike gave him. Stay away and not do more damage than he'd already done. Give the boys some space and time enough to forgive him and hopefully, they would come round. Somehow, Mike always got to the phone first whenever he called and their conversation always went the same way. First Will would sound almost cowed and apologetic, but it didn't take long before he lost his patience and demanded to speak to his sons. Mike would always refuse to go and get them and Will gave up despite his persistence at the beginning of their stay. Besides, his best friend who knew him from childhood succeeded in easily dissuading him each time because he knew just which mental buttons to push.
It was easy to keep the truth from the boys too since Daryl was more or less on bedrest recovering while Merle was tied up taking care of him. When he wasn't out prowling the neighborhood, that was. When Merle wasn't there, it was even easier for Mike to deal with Daryl and fob him off if he asked who had called. But he rarely did – probably thought his Dad was still angry and really didn't care about him. It didn't hurt Mike to let him carry on believing that his father had kicked them both out for good. Even though a part of him hated the disappointed and hurt look that would ghost over the boy's features each time he replied 'No' to his inquiries about his dad.
Mike didn't want them to leave, especially not Daryl and he intended to do his damnedest to keep them here with him as long as possible.
But now it was more obvious than ever that his best friend couldn't keep away for much longer, Mike could hear it now clear as a bell in his voice when he rang - Will was anxious to see his boys again. He worried vaguely that their father might get tired of the endless excuses, that he would no longer believe them and come to take his sons back home sooner rather than later...
He knew that one way or another they would have to go home eventually, he was no fool. But he for sure as hell could put that day off for as long as he could. He would probably get away with dodging the calls, lying about who he'd been talking to a little while longer, even though Merle had looked at him funny the last time it happened. Meanwhile, the dread of knowing that his friend would snap eventually and turn up to darken his doorstep and take them home with him, leaving him alone in the empty house with all its memories would get to him. But more often than not he pushed the fear away. He knew that it probably wouldn't happen today or even tomorrow.
After all, Will was a proud man.
While Merle was sleeping off his hangover that afternoon after they'd eaten, the two of them snuggled up on the sofa to watch a baseball game. Mike had Daryl's head in his lap, just like his big brother had sat with him. The game couldn't keep his attention, not when the real object of his fascination was lying so close to him and he soon lost interest and let his mind drift off, to really think.
As his thoughts always did lately, first they would be drawn to Maggie, his late wife, sure as a bullet shot from a bloodthirsty gun.
His beloved wife who had died 8 years ago of a nasty form of ovarian cancer. She'd never been big, but what little flesh she'd had, the cancer had soon eaten away. That was one of the things that had gotten to Mike the most about the whole ordeal. Not just the pain she was in, but watching her lose weight, witnessing how the woman he loved withering away to practically nothing right before his eyes like that. It had been his own private hell and when the time came when she died in a morphine induced coma, Mike saw it as a blessing because at least she wouldn't be hurting anymore. It had taken a lot of time for him to begin to live some semblance of normalcy after his loss but the truth was that he'd never gotten over it.
He knew he never would.
The loss of their wives, a few years apart had cemented his and Will's friendship - deep to begin with even further. They'd comforted themselves by playing poker with the other guys and . Will had been his rock then and when his turn came round, Mike had done the same for him. Joking together, trying to take his mind off things...not pitying him which would have been the most unforgivable thing he could have ever done and vice-versa...
He understood how Will felt – he really did. Understood his loss but it was no excuse to be beating on Daryl, putting his cigarettes out on him. Only cowards hurt their kids.
Mike knew that taking his grief out on his sons was some kind of twisted coping mechanism for Will but he'd been shocked to find out exactly how far he'd gone with them. Merle's casual revelation that he'd had cigarettes put out on him too when he was younger had sickened Mike, especially when he knew that Will was a decent man underneath. He'd been a good father to begin with anyway. He only hoped that Will could go back to being the man he knew without needing a reminder again from him in the form of the same kind of vicious thrashing that he had been meted out to his defenseless younger boy.
If Will only knew his way of winding down from a rough day, he thought as he guiltily glanced down at his best friend's son.
Daryl was almost asleep, he could tell, what with him stroking his hair and the boy's interest in the game had been zero to none to begin with. Of course, he'd had none either, still unable to concentrate with Daryl so close, try as he might. Anyway, watching TV had first only been an excuse. Mike knew that they would eventually end up close together like this and had planned it that way. At first they had merely sat side by side after he suggested watching the game and invitingly patted the space next to him on the couch. A few minutes later though, when he felt Daryl move closer against him almost shyly as if silently asking permission to do so, Mike didn't waste any time and soon had his arm about him. The boy had even sighed with relief, clearly starved of affection from adults that didn't result in pain. Eventually he even ended up on his back, stretched out on the sofa with his head in Mike's lap somewhere in the midst of him reminiscing about his dead wife. While he was in the middle of trying to work out where everything had unravelled and gone to shit. Ever since Maggie's painful passing, he'd had these goddamn feelings about boys. Young boys. Twisted desires that he just couldn't explain, but they were there nonetheless.
As he fingered the silky locks his train of thought took him to the more pleasant feelings of the night before. He badly wanted to put his lips and press his nose into those silky, shining strands and breathe in. He wouldn't mind kissing his temple either but he stopped himself just in time.
'You're sick.' He mumbled in disgust to himself and took his hands away. But after a few seconds, he couldn't resist running his fingers through Daryl's hair again.
He knew he shouldn't even be touching him even though the kid was younger than the boys he'd been looking at, so no danger. Still, he told himself, it was not like he was hurting him, Daryl had moved closer to him first, not the other way around. He didn't force anything on him, not like the sick bastards in those videos did to those poor boys. Didn't take a genius to see that they were high on something in the few movies where they seemed willing enough. Their wooden smiles never reached their eyes, for instance.
There was just something about him that made everything that much more difficult to resist...He'd vowed never to touch a kid in ways he shouldn't, just thinking about it made him shudder and he considered pushing Daryl off him and sending him home for good.
Even though he treasured the memory of last night, it had been far too close.
He knew he should have just walked right out of the bedroom and walk back down those stairs after he checked in on him – what the hell was he thinking getting in bed with him? But in the end, he'd maneuvered himself from the sticky position they were in and only cuddled with the boy while he slept. It had felt so good breathing in the boy's scent, to touch his soft skin where it wasn't bruised...
He had managed to stop himself just in time when he was about to cross a line. He wasn't a monster, he would never go further than that and do something he shouldn't.
He liked to think that him being there made Daryl feel safe in his sleep, just like his big brother had no doubt made him feel that first night. He could tell himself truthfully that he hadn't done anything that Merle hadn't already done and the best thing about it was that Daryl hadn't even woken up. Allowing him to slip out quietly before he did in the morning.
Even knowing the risk, he wouldn't mind a chance to do it again next time Merle decided to pull another all-nighter. Holding himself back from doing anything more than just coddling Daryl had been one of the hardest things he'd done - but at the same time he couldn't deny the rush he'd felt when he passed his own test with flying colors. Oh well, close enough anyway.
If he could just convince Chrissie to come back. Mike knew it would make everything a bit easier for him to control his urges if he had a willing woman in his bed...But if she by some miracle were to come back now with Daryl right in front of him, he'd probably end up not wanting her and she would know.
He sighed and tried to focus on the rest of the game, in the end he finally succeeded.
...
The boys stayed with Mike two more weeks before the phone-call they'd almost given up waiting for came one morning.
Merle strained his ears, trying to hear the hushed conversation from the small kitchen. Daryl was perched on his chair, eating a slice of toast and jam hungrily in one hand and looking much better. His bruises were fading and he was healing not just physically because more than that, it was clear that time away from their father without fear of being hit or worse was doing him good. Merle had observed this to Mike one night and the man had agreed, it hadn't escaped him either that the flinching was less frequent and that he seemed much brighter than before.
It was obvious that Daryl was feeling stronger too. For example, he'd started the morning by happily prattling away to his big brother, making plans for the day ahead until Merle put his finger on his lips and shushed him, jerking his head meaningfully in the direction of the hall. Daryl obediently fell silent.
'...ya think I'm gonna let'em go home to you after what you did?... What?' Mike's voice rose in angry sarcasm.
Now Merle had no doubt who was at the other end of the line, apparently their father had finally noticed their absence.
There was a tense pause that had them both on edge before Mike broke the silence.
'It better not happen again! You lay one hand on him again and you'll think what I did to you was a walk through the park in comparison!'
A part of Merle wanted to cheer him on, it was good that somebody was finally putting their old man in his place, but then something told him that this wasn't the first time their father had called since they'd been there. Had Mike been lying to them? Why?
This slow realization began to seriously piss him off and he listened even more intently. Daryl too, maybe he was thinking the same thing.
There was another pause.
'No, you can't talk to them!' Mike was practically yelling now, forgetting in his anger that he had an audience with ears as big as pitchers in the next room. 'No,I already said that Daryl doesn't want to talk to you!'
By then, Merle had heard enough and was by his side making the other man frown in irritation when the receiver was practically ripped out of his hand before he could stop it.
'Dad?' He breathed.
'Son? Is Daryl there with you? Is he OK?'
Mike had a worried frown on his face and tried to take back the phone again but Merle snarled and motioned him away. He shook his head and gave him some space but the teenager didn't notice – he intended to have some serious words with him once he got off the phone.
'What? Ya only jus' noticed that we left?' Merle scoffed sarcastically even though he was pretty sure by then that the opposite was true.
'No, 'course not. I've been tryin' to...Is Daryl there? Can I speak to him?' Their father repeated anxiously.
'Yeah he is.' Merle cut him off. 'I'd never leave him alone, and ya know that.'
'When ya bringin' him' home?'
'Not yet, Dad. Daryl's still scared of you.'
There was a silence at the other end and he heard a sharp hitch in his father's breathing on the other end of the line. Was it pain? Or guilt? Merle sincerely hoped it was both.
'Bye, Dad.' He told him coldly and was about to end the call when he was interrupted by him in turn.
'No? Well, I want both of you to come home. Right now!'
Without warning, his father had gone back to barking orders at him like Merle was used to, causing him to roll his eyes. But underneath the harsh tone and words, there was a note of pleading in his father's voice he'd never heard before. The older brother's eyes grew wide in surprise.
'I told ya not yet, Dad! Daryl's not ready!.' He dared to snap at him then only because he wasn't physically present. ''Sides, his face is only jus' healin'.
It was a low blow but he wanted him to know exactly what he'd done.
'Shit.' His father cursed. 'How badly did I...? I was drunk – didn't know what the fuck I was doin'...'
'Same old, same old.' Merle retorted as if bored.
'I know but I promise it'll never happen again...I mean it this time! I know I went too far...Jus' bring him home...'
Now his father's tone had gone back to wheedling but Merle wasn't fooled.
'Why?' He asked. 'Mike's bein' real good to us and he feels safe here.' He sneered as he gave the knife another twist.
'Sometime soon, then?' Their father's voice was hopeful.
Merle stared down at his hands, still in shock at this sudden change in their father's voice.
'Maybe but I ain't promisin' anythin'. Bye.' Merle abruptly ended their conversation before he put the phone back in its cradle. There was a thick silence in the house and he dreaded confronting the man who had rescued them and given them everything and more than they needed. Asking him why he had stopped their father speaking to them.
But it needed to be done.
When he finally turned around, he found their host standing in the doorway to the living-room with his legs straddled apart and his arms crossed defiantly over his chest. The man also sported a look of thunder on his face making Merle feel a little shudder of guilt and self-doubt – maybe he lied to them out of some misguided notion of protecting them? But his anger soon made him throw that aside. Their Dad had been trying to get in touch with them since they got there, there was no longer any question about it.
'I told him that neither of you wanted to talk to him!' Mike barked at the older boy, now sounding just like their father.
Merle stared at him before he heard a sound behind him only to see his brother with surprise hesitantly move closer as if he had his back. Daryl was looking nervous and uneasy for the first time since they got there. At Mike's raised voice, no doubt. Merle had time to think smugly that Mike's mask had slipped and he was glad that his brother saw it because no-one could be that kind and good.
'Merle...' He tugged at his sleeve. 'Was that Dad on the phone?' He asked anxiously.
He glanced back at him over his shoulder. 'Yeah it was. But don't you worry.' To Mike, he turned around and said, 'You can't stop us talkin' to him, ya know.'
Mike humpfed before he swung around to head back into the other room without another word. Merle could tell he was furious, especially when he slammed the door shut behind him.
'What did Dad say?' Daryl asked. 'And why's Uncle Mikey angry? Is it because of somethin' I did?'
Merle sighed and gently pulled him out from behind him so that they were facing each other before he crouched down in front of him so that they were at eye-level. He hated the fact that his brother always blamed himself when other people argued and somebody got angry around him. 'It ain't you. Dad wants us to come home.' He told him.
'But...' His face fell. No surprise there.
'I'll tell ya later what he said, OK?' He glanced towards the closed living room door that now had the TV blaring out behind it, even louder than before.
'Uh...OK.'
Daryl smiled waveringly up at him and Merle stroked his arm to reassure him. 'Don't worry about it. I ain't gonna let anythin' bad happen to you – not again, I promise.'
With that, he prepared what he was going to say to the other man in his mind.
'Now, why don't you go on up to our room while I sort things out with Uncle Mikey?'