We're skipping a head roughly one year in time, Daryl's 15 and yeah, Daddy Dearest has reverted to his mean old self and we don't need to tell you what's been happening since the last chapter. Even worse – it's just him and Daryl now because Merle is away earning money. the result that they don't have any, making Will even more likely to blow his top. However, the icing on the cake is being hassled by his concerned math teacher who suspects Daryl is being abused. Poor Daryl! When will Merle get back?
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Chapter Text…
Daryl
He limped into the classroom, Fuck, he hated school, Daryl thought to himself. But one class was a little better than the rest and it was math because the best thing about that particular class was the teacher. Even if there were vicious rumours lately about him and certain boys.
He'd heard that if you were a boy under 16, Rogers would give you a good grade even if you had flunked his class all semester, as long as you were willing to do 'special favours' for him. Daryl knew most of it was malicious with no truth in it because he reckoned that the stories accusing Carl Rogers of being a perve were probably all made up by disgruntled students he'd failed. Daryl never did listen to gossip and he wasn't about to start now.
He prided himself on being a bit of a loner – not one of the herd who couldn't make up their own mind, so he was going to give Rogers a chance. At least until he did something that proved him wrong. Especially since this particular teacher had tried to help him 'with his problems at home' even if his determination to 'always be there for him if he needed it' got on Daryl's nerves.
Anyway, most of the students in the class thought it was funny whenever Rogers moved on to Daryl for answers to his questions and downright hilarious when the teacher asked him to stay behind.
Despite what was being said about him, Mr Carl Rogers was popular because he was a good teacher. One who took a genuine interest in his students and was able to make even math seem interesting.
Well – most of the time.
Today, there were more twitters as Daryl made his way slowly and painfully into the classroom. He was late again because his Dad was drunk already at 6.30 in the morning and had decided to make Daryl pay for his pissy morning temper. Never mind that Daryl kept trying to explain that the reason he'd been stuck in detention again was because he'd been late 3 times already that week and so Will should really let him go to school. But Daryl didn't have the courage to tell his father that it was all because of him.
Take yesterday morning for example - the day had begun much like all the others with him opening the refrigerator and reaching inside for the eggs on the shelf to make a quick omelette before school. Unfortunately, Will stumbled into the kitchen just at that moment and screamed something incomprehensible before he slammed the fridge door shut without warning and nearly cut Daryl's hand in half. The look of shock and surprise with which his son answered him only enraged him further because then he'd grabbed Daryl by the throat and yelled in his face that he shouldn't waste what little food they had left. Especially when Merle was still away and money was tight. Daryl had asked (quite reasonably he thought) why did they have eggs in the first place if they weren't allowed to eat them before they went bad and had to be thrown out?
He'd received a black eye for 'backchat'.
'What do you need to eat for? I thought I told ya to get to school, you greedy little shit!' His dad had literally kicked him out the door causing him to nearly keel over on the ground. 'And don't be comin' back home late again otherwise you think what I just did was a picnic in comparison!'
As a result, Daryl didn't even dare to touch the fridge today but was preparing to pour himself some cereal instead without milk (wasn't any to be had, anyway) before he found himself being assailed by blows on all sides. He instinctively tried to block, but his father had been relentless. This time, the old man didn't even give him a reason for the vicious punches he was aiming at his stomach. Needless to say, when he'd eventually been released, the walk to school had been painful and slow-going.
Daryl's stomach was growling with hunger, despite the savage punishment it had taken. Even though he was feeling light-headed and wasn't exactly concentrating, he didn't miss the concerned way Rogers glanced at him as he limped into the classroom. And it wasn't like he was alone either. Everyone stared and knew what had happened to him, try to hide it as he might.
Great! He just knew the way this was going to go down. Rogers would ask him to stay behind where he'd pester him with questions about how things were at home.
Honestly, Daryl didn't understand his teacher's surprised reaction acting like it was the first time each time he showed up beaten and bruised. His classmates on the other hand were pretty used to seeing him like that but even so, this time he could hear their shocked whispers clear as day all around him.
Only Andrea had the decency not to add to them as she looked up at him with a sympathetic smile playing on her lips from where she sat quietly next to Shane. He could see them playing footsie under the desk and having started a shitstorm day already - this pissed Daryl off more than it would have done normally. He hated pity most of all, but instead of ignoring her like he did the rest, he settled on giving her a bad boy smirk to convince her that he really was OK. However, when she smiled softly back at him with her forehead creasing softly in a worried frown, he could tell that it hadn't worked.
She was still the only girl he liked in the class or in the whole damn shitty school in fact. Once, he'd even thought he'd had a chance with her a couple of years ago but then she'd quickly got back together with her douchebag jock boyfriend. Daryl had never understood why that was. As a friend (sort of,) he'd always wanted to warn her to be careful of Shane whose reputation for two-timing, even three-timing his girlfriends was common knowledge throughout the school.
Yet something held him back. He would have expected even someone as arrogant as the Sheriff's son would have cleaned up his act after getting a second chance with a goddess like that but she either didn't know or didn't care. Anyway, if he said something, it would only look like he was trying to use her to get back at Shane. Everyone knew they hated each other's guts and Daryl didn't want to lose a friend like her over somebody like that idiot. Their enmity wasn't only due to personality clash but had also been written in the stars because no doubt Shane would follow in his Daddy's footsteps and become a copper. Naturally, Dixons never went happily hand in hand with the Law.
Daryl was still a bit surprised that Andrea even cared about him, or looked at him twice. He guessed that her boyfriend had tried to stop her from talking to him numerous times and he was pleased that she hadn't listened. Truth be told, compared to her, he was nothing but poor white trash who regularly got the shit beaten out of him by his alcoholic father. His only blessing was that they had a house, that he didn't live with his father and junkie big brother in a trailer to complete the stereotype.
Fuckin' Shane, he sneered over at his arch- enemy. You don't know what you're holding in your big, clumsy hands and you certainly don't deserve her.
Suddenly, he felt a little flutter of panic rising from his aching gut when he noticed that all the seats were full, bar one because of course because thanks to his dear old Dad, he was the last student to come in. That included the seat next to his best friend Eric, located at the back where they felt most comfortable. Daryl strode over and glared at its current occupant, science geek Milton with his huge oversized glasses that made him look bug-eyed. He always knew the answers in science and math classes.
'What's your problem? You couldn't even save me a seat?' Daryl hissed at Eric, now ignoring the nerd who had looked terrified and speechless under his glowering gaze.
'Sorry. Didn't think you were comin'...Shit! You OK?' Eric took in his appearance.
'Tell ya later.' Daryl mumbled under his breath, jerking his head towards Milton but the intruder didn't seem to be paying them any attention, in fact he was babbling excuses.
'That's my seat. Take a hike.' Daryl efficiently cut through his white noise.
He was rewarded with a look of mild fear and Milton was visibly cowering now as he stammered; 'S...Sorry.'
Daryl took his seat without thanking him, out of the corner of his eye he could see Rogers raising his eyebrows but he said nothing. Probably thinking I deserve a break, Daryl thought irritably. Miraculously, he even felt the pain recede a little, even so, he couldn't stop himself from wincing as he slowly sank down onto the chair while holding his bruised ribs. All the while hoping no one noticed.
Unfortunately, at least one person did.
Eric regarded him with even more concern and without a word, passed Daryl a folded piece of paper as soon as Roger's back was turned while he wrote on the board. Daryl did what he usually did whenever Eric insisted on passing him notes - he rolled his eyes as he opened it.
'What happened?', Daryl read on the sloppily written note, then glared at the sender.
'Nothin'.' Daryl hissed in reply, suddenly very aware of the onlookers, not to mention eavesdroppers around them. Although, sadly, his dad's beatings were an open secret.
Eric raised his eyebrows and shrugged. He knew Daryl well enough by now to take the hint that his latest injuries were off-limits, at least for the moment. Instead, he offered his best friend a knowing, crooked smile. They'd grown close enough that Daryl occasionally confided to him and had told him one or two things about his home-life. Sometimes he just needed to vent to someone he trusted.
Knowing what his Dad was like, Eric was always worried about him but he didn't pry. He was the only real friend Daryl had and he depended on him, so he tried to not get too defensive when Eric asked about Merle and when he was coming back. Or when the other boy asked in a more roundabout way – what they were going to do about his dad's drinking. Or when Eric sometimes became so furious on his behalf that he burst out that Daryl should report his dad for hurting him like that or at least tell Merle. Daryl couldn't blame him - Eric just cared.
But lately, Daryl just shook his head whenever Eric asked him about his brother and why he was gone so long. Because he rightly guessed that Daryl's father probably wouldn't dare to put his hands on him if his big brother was around to stop it. But Merle was still a no show – had been for a few months already, making money to bring home apparently. Their Dad was always just happy to take it and didn't ask where it came from.
Unfortunately, to top off the great start to the day, Rogers heard them in mid-stream as he was explaining the different types of charts and when they could use them. It was boring as hell and even the gifted teacher couldn't change that.
'Daryl, you already came here late, son. Now I hear you talking while I'm speaking. I need to talk to you after class and I'd say stay behind after this one but I've got a meeting. Mr Burns is sick though, so I'll be covering your last period, come and see me then, OK?'
Daryl sighed in resignation as he nodded.
His teacher did his best to keep his voice normal and pretend he was in trouble but Daryl wasn't fooled. There was softness beneath the surface there and no prizes for guessing what he was going to 'speak' to him about.
He rolled his eyes but answered politely. 'Yes, Sir.'
'Yes, Sir.' Someone imitated slavishly. 'Teacher's pet.'
Daryl heard the whispers and glared around, thinking that the teacher shouldn't have asked him like that in front of the whole class. But he always did. Didn't he realize that he was just fuelling the rumours about them?
Shane grinned lewdly, making sure they had eye contact before licking his lips slowly. 'Homo,' he mouthed at him silently.
Daryl stuck two fingers up at him.
'Ain't like the first time he's sucked someone off.' Travis, another dumb jock in Shane's crew chipped in, leading to uneasy laughter from most people but raucous roars from the bullies.
'Drop dead, retard.' Daryl hissed as he stubbornly looked down at his desk as he felt his face glow red.
'Quiet!' The teacher yelled suddenly. Making all students sit up straight in shock because they rarely heard him raise his voice like that. He didn't need to.
The lesson continued but Daryl couldn't really focus because of the pain. It hurt like a bitch every time merely to draw each breath and he couldn't quite expand his lungs to get enough air. This would push him into a full-blown panic attack if he let it.
He hoped he hadn't broken a rib or two - he knew too well how long they took to heal. If they were just bruised – that was fine – just meant a little pain for a few days. Last time, Will had taken him to the hospital when it still hurt to breathe after two weeks – he'd seen the fear and panic in his father's eyes. Guilt too – also over his arm he broke at the same that also stubbornly refused to heal. Or more accurately - was healing bent and had to be broken again and reset. What made it even worse for Daryl was the knowing looks that passed between the doctors and nurses who didn't hide the fact that they didn't believe his dad when he said that Daryl had fallen down the stairs. They'd told Will to wait outside and his father had left him reluctantly, no doubt worrying that Daryl would make a slip and tell them the truth.
When they'd seen his back they upped their game in trying to coax Daryl into telling by keeping him and his father separate as much as they could. When asked for what felt like the thousandth time how he 'really' got those broken bones, he just confirmed his dad's incredibly stupid story.
***
Still, Will had been really sorry that time and still feeling incredibly guilty, he drew Daryl to him the second they arrived home. Daryl recalled how gentle his Dad had been when he did that, taking special care not to make his broken ribs hurt more than they already did. Even though he was fifteen years old and should have been embarrassed about sitting on his lap, Daryl felt comforted as he rested against his father. They sat like that for a while in complete silence, Daryl just listening to his father's heart beating next to his ear and the sounds of his breathing before Will's interest turned back to Daryl's re-set arm. 'Can't believe I did this to ya...' He'd whispered as he examined it carefully in apparent shock and disbelief like he hadn't been there when it happened. 'I'm sorry I lost it like that.' He sighed mournfully. 'Can't even remember why now.'
'It don't matter, Dad. It don't hurt.' Daryl tried to suppress a wince.
'No, it ain't and I know it does.' Will shook his head mournfully. 'Ain't nothin' about this that's OK.' He repeated more quietly.
If Shane and his buddies or Merle had seen them together like this, Daryl knew that they would have never let it go. He would probably be labelled a fag or a sissy for the rest of his life, better they thought that his dad beat the crap out of him rather than know about the times when they sat together like this. Even if it was only because Will was feeling guilty.
But not only then.
The times Will hurt him and tried to make himself feel better about it often made Daryl feel ashamed that he had not made his father grovel a little longer.
It was just so much easier to forgive.
These days though with Merle gone, Daryl always expected to get his Dad's fist so part of him thought the moments of closeness like this were almost worth all the pain. When Will would hold him and stroke his hair just like he was little again.
'I'm sorry. I just lose it sometimes. I get so damn angry and take it out on you although I don't want to. Can you you ever forgive me, son?'
Daryl had nodded understandingly like the good little boy, his father needed him to be. His defences were momentarily down at the feelings of safety and love washing over him. Daryl knew that he was the only who could ever bring this side out of their dad, and only when they were alone together and instinctively, although they'd never discussed it, Daryl knew that his dad had never been like this with his brother.
'You're so special, ain't like me or Merle and I don't know how I could do that shit to you. Don't know what makes me...I must be sick in the head.'
Daryl knew what he and his dad had – no matter how destructive it was at times – was special. Nobody else got to see him like that. Nobody else knew how nice his Dad could be when it was just the two of them. When his father wasn't being drunk or violent, he showed how much he really loved him despite it all.
'I'll never do it again, promise. I'll stop drinkin' – ain't ever gonna risk it happenin' again. I promise you that, son.'
'Yes, Dad.' Like clockwork, Daryl gave the dutiful answer he knew would please Will – the same one he'd given a thousand times before and was rewarded with a kiss on the forehead. In turn, Daryl cuddled into his father's chest, knowing that it would please his father even though he knew he was far too old or this babying shit.
His father responded by making a surprised sound of pleasure.
Unfortunately, hearing Travis' cruel taunt from where he was sitting with his head down brought back memories of Mike's heavy body on top of his slight one and the blind terror of it all. As well as the humiliating and disgusting thing he'd been forced to do beforehand. Then the aftermath was clear as day, he could almost see himself where he'd spent days curled around his father on the sofa. Trying to shut out the world, Daryl recalled how deep he had buried his head into his father's lap or against his chest. Will held him put with an arm slung casually about him as he slugged his drink or chugged on a cigarette. It was all a pathetic attempt to escape reality - it worked nonetheless and Daryl had slowly gotten back to his old self. During that time, his father had only let him out of his sight for necessary bathroom breaks or let him go when he was trying to coax him to eat and drink, but Daryl didn't mind. The TV had been on blaring out the whole time and at the beginning, Daryl had barely noticed. Back then after it first happened, he could only feel his Dad's hands gently soothing him, and he only had ears for his soft voice occasionally murmuring over him.
After Mike's attack, Will had kept him home from school for a week.
Daryl shook his head to come back to the present. Just in time because Rogers asked him a question. Even though he hadn't studied or done the homework, he gave the correct answer after merely glancing at the equation sprawled across the otherwise empty black board. When he did, the teacher raised his eyebrows in surprise. But to Daryl, the answer was always obvious and he didn't get why the most of the other students found it so difficult.
Daryl couldn't really focus on English or History or any of the other dumb classes. He didn't want to be there in Chem either – the last period with Rogers who was going to teach them. He thought about faking being sick so he could go home. But in the end, he decided to get it over with. Rogers would only pursue him more if he smelled a rat.
Finally, it was the end of the school day and they started to tidy their books away. Daryl tried to sneak out with the others, hoping that Rogers would forget but the teacher was ready for this and stopped him.
'Hold up, Dixon. I told you this morning that I need to talk to you.' The teacher motioned on a lagging student as the class emptied –no doubt the girl wanted to earwiggle.
After the last student left, Rogers closed the door and Daryl didn't know why but he felt a fleeting moment of panic because all that came to mind then was his little flashback brought on by a stupid comment by one jock and he also remembered all the filthy names some students had called their maths teacher. All the taunts and dirty jokes directed at him. Had their real function been as warnings to tell each other to be careful when they were alone with their Math teacher? Had he got it wrong after all? Was Rogers really a perve?
Daryl felt like there were butterflies in his stomach as doubt and suspicion filled him when nothing the other students said had ever caused him concern before. But he told himself that he had never got that kind of vibe from the man and pushed the fear aside and instead, rudely squared up to him. 'What ya want? I got to go home.' Daryl crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his legs wide, giving off an air of insolence as he chewed gum loudly in the teacher's face.
Is that because your father will beat you again if you're late? Rogers wondered silently to himself but didn't dare give voice to his thoughts. 'I'll make it quick then. To answer your question, what I want, son, is you to speak to me with a little more respect in future.'
Daryl shrugged his shoulders, he just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible so he figured he'd agree with whatever the teacher said.
'Daryl, look at me.' Reluctantly, he obeyed and looked up. 'Why didn't you do your homework and why are you limping, again? Trouble at home, huh, son?'
'No! Jus' fell out of a tree.' He snapped back sarcastically.
Rogers frowned like he didn't believe what he was told. Of course he didn't.
'You sure? 'Cos you 'fell out of a tree' last month too and three times before that.'
He shrugged again.
The teacher's tone turned low and confidential. 'Come on, you can tell me about your father. it won't go any further, I promise.'
He stood his ground until Rogers leaned forward to him close enough to touch his shoulder, then Daryl went pale and responded by drawing back sharply, causing the teacher to immediately back off.
'No, I won't 'cos there ain't nothin' goin' on!' Daryl snarled, angrily. 'I'm jus' clumsy, is all!'
'You don't need to protect him. We can make it all stop if you just let us help you. He won't go to jail, if that's what you're worried about.'
Enraged that he had come so close to the truth and wanting to defend his father, Daryl headed for the door and thankfully, Rogers didn't stop him this time.
'Don't need your help and I'm tellin' ya the truth!' He turned round from a safe distance to fire back. Then he rattled the classroom door-handle as he threw it open and let it bang against the classroom wall with a deafening sound.
Outside, Eric was leaning against the wall, waiting for him like he usually did.
'Did he ask you about ya Dad?... Did you tell him?'
'Course I didn't!'
Even if Eric knew, Daryl still hadn't got used to hearing him talking about his father like that. Like he knew him. It made it more real somehow.
'Are ya goin' home now?' Eric's tone was deliberately neutral.
'I guess so, why?'
'Just asking if you want to cruise on to my place?'
'Nah - I think it's best if I get home. How much did ya hear anyway of us talkin'?'
'Nothin' much. 'Sides, that door is pretty much soundproof. I mean - who wants to have to listen to the teachers outside the classroom?'
They chuckled. That's what Daryl liked about his friend – Eric was down-to-earth and could make him laugh anytime and get rid of the tension in the air.
As they left to leave, Daryl involuntarily shivered at the mere thought of going home, not knowing what kind of mood his dad would be in – being punished in the morning didn't automatically mean that he wouldn't be again later on in the day. Made it more likely, in fact, especially as Merle hadn't brought home the bacon yet which made Dad more irritable than usual.
His friend must have noticed his reaction or sensed it anyway because he gave him sidelong glance. 'Are ya sure ya don't want to come with me?' He ventured. 'My parents won't mind...hell, they'll be happy.'
Daryl wavered because he really did want to go with him but he couldn't risk giving his father another chance to beat on him. It wasn't the first time Eric had invited him, but he always refused - mostly for that reason. But that didn't mean he wasn't tempted.
The only thing preventing his feet from following Eric's to his place this time was his appearance, not that he needed to look in the mirror – he was reminded of what he must look like each time he tried to move.
Knowing this, Daryl did his usual thing and reluctantly declined. He was only glad that Eric still bothered to ask him – it was still nice that he made the effort. Then again, he knew why.
'Maybe next time then?' He said like he did every time Daryl refused then shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing, coaxing a smile from Daryl who was wondering when Eric was going to give up.
'Uh...maybe.'
'You sure...you gonna be OK?'
'I'll be fine. Don't worry.'
But he didn't look convinced. 'Cool. See ya around.'
'See ya.' Daryl waved back, wishing above everything that he could have gone with Eric into that house from where the delicious cooking smells were always wafting when you walked by. Dad hardly ever cooked except when he was feeling guilty. Daryl was no master chef either, other than cooking what he'd hunted - squirrel-stew had become something of his speciality.
Long after Eric turned off at his corner Daryl looked after him longingly as he disappeared into his house where his normal loving parents were until he became afraid that he would be late. Even though he loved his dad – Daryl couldn't stay blind and tell himself that things in their house were exactly normal. Other boys in his class didn't receive the excessive 'paddlings' that he did regularly and not for the first time Daryl wished he had a different dad. And like always right after thinking that, he'd feel guilty himself for being disloyal. He often found himself doing this, but he'd realised early on that you couldn't pick and choose your family, no matter how badly you wished you could sometimes. Didn't stop him daydreaming though...In his other life, Eric was his brother as well as Merle and Eric's parents were their parents and Andrea was his girlfriend. Merle didn't get off his head on drugs and had a regular, boring job where he didn't risk getting in trouble with the law.
But that was all fantasy, in reality, all you could do was to not piss off the dad you'd been given and try to keep him happy. But for Daryl, on most days that was an impossible task since a mere look could be interpreted the wrong way and be an excuse for a bust lip or a bloody nose.
Daryl also cursed his brother at night sometimes, for leaving him alone with their father all this time. Merle had bought Dad's reassurances and promises far too easily that he wouldn't hit his fifteen-year old brother while he was gone.
Daryl paused, hanging back until the last possible minute but only prolonging the inevitable. Knowing he couldn't really take much more from his father, not with his already battered self, he took a deep breath through his nose and started walking and did his best to block out the pain. Not for the first time, he wondered if one day his dad might takes things too far and kill him.
After that day, Mr Rogers would often call him to the back of the class for one reason or another – missing homework or for college advice (Daryl nearly choked at that lame excuse – no Dixon ever went to college) or to mostly ask about how things was at home. Daryl thought he was an extra brand of dumb to make it so obvious that he'd singled him out. He hated the special attention as Shane and his buddies continued to torment him. 'Hey Daryl, better watch his hands unless ya like it, faggot.'
'Teacher's pet. What did ya have to do to get 'A'? Suck him off?' Were regular jibes whenever he received another detention.
Daryl couldn't believe that Mr Rogers didn't seem to notice or care and wasn't worried about his reputation.
The math teacher rarely held another student back after class now even if they misbehaved. He'd give them some other punishment instead like writing lines or extra homework and this didn't go unnoticed by the class. Daryl thought fleetingly how weird it was that the authorities hadn't investigated Rogers yet if there was fire as well as smoke. Especially when he caught the other man gazing at him a little too long for comfort.
It annoyed the hell out of him but after a while, Daryl was fine with it as long as the man didn't try to touch him. After all, he'd been through worse. That didn't mean Rogers didn't push his luck occasionally by trying to pat his back or side-hug him even - though he always backed off when Daryl told him to or when he pushed him away.
Daryl insisted on keeping his head down, not giving his teacher any more excuse to keep him back but none of it made any difference. It wasn't really detention by any means, just an excuse for Rogers to talk, more often than not. Often, Daryl wasn't in the mood to humour him and would lash or act out until he reminded himself that his teacher was just showing concern – and didn't meant to hassle him with his incessant questions about his home life. He gritted his teeth and bore it, simply because he didn't want to arouse his interest anymore. Besides, there was always the threat - never articulated but was there none the less – that even Rogers would get fed up with his fiery temper and snarky backchat one of these days and give his dad a phone call to complain about his bad behaviour. Then Daryl knew he'd be in for it for drawing attention to the Dixons.
Daryl doubted that would ever happen though, Rogers meant well, and was a very patient man. He would never go behind his back and betray him like that. He understood the kind of family he came from and what his dad was capable of.
And the fact that these sessions often meant he missed more less interesting classes that he could pin Rogers for being late for, wasn't so bad either.
….
Rogers, for his part, couldn't help but recall his favorite student's sense of caustic humor even when the situation was tragic, 'Falling out of a tree' was his favorite. It wasn't as much the lies as it was the boy's facial expression when he told them – he had that look of cock-eyed confidence to him even when he looked beat to hell while he didn't seem to trust himself to lie convincingly enough to fool his teacher. Usually Carl didn't make a big deal out of it – tried to talk about other things instead to make the boy relax and become less suspicious of him, hoping this would eventually lead him to opening up about his alcoholic, abusive father.
That's why, he told himself, he kept Daryl behind just like this, more than the others. That was one reason and besides, the boy was gorgeous. Every year, he would choose a particular student, usually below 16 – when they got older than that, they tended to be less easy to mould, less compliant, not to say less alluring to him. Turning them into his 'special projects' (so he liked to call them) was that much harder. When they were younger and needed his help, he could really make a difference.
He really did try to help them.
Gradually, over time, the teacher edged closer and closer to the boy.
Daryl's temper reared its ugly head at times, but less and less frequently over time.
'I miss my brother, Merle.' Daryl had eventually confided to him when another month later, the elusive older brother still hadn't returned. He only ever talked about the brother who he appeared to love so much, never the father.
'Things harder with your father without him there with you at home, I bet huh?'
'No! Stop putting words in my mouth! I know what you're gettin' at and it ain't true!' The boy fired at him so furiously that the teacher couldn't help but draw back and he had to admit, Daryl was looking better these days – no bruises – not where he could see anyway. Rogers wasn't to know that Will held off him every time Merle said he was coming back. Anyway, that thought led to another, how he would love to use checking him over as an excuse for peeling off the boy's clothes very slowly, seductively, then hopefully, one thing would lead to another...If only Daryl would let him go as far.
But then his student ruined it all by hoisting his bag up on to his shoulder, making things very clear that he intended to leave any minute.
Rogers gently held him back, his hand circling his chest from behind, taking care to make his move not too forceful or to make his student feel trapped. 'Daryl...Don't go yet.'
'Leave me be! Ain't listening to this!' And just like that, Daryl irritably shook him off but he didn't go just yet – just whirled round and stared at him as if in challenge.
Rogers couldn't meet those blue orbs of steel and cursed himself for forgetting how fiercely loyal to his father the boy was whatever the bastard did to him and that merely added to his charms. Worse than that – he had made it pretty clear with his bold attempts to gain his trust that he wanted them to become closer. Daryl didn't seem to mind it as much anymore so Rogers couldn't help wonder how much longer before he would be able to make his fantasy of undressing him real. Luckily, Daryl didn't seem aware of his intentions or at least not threatened by him. After all, he always backed off as soon as he sensed the boy was uncomfortable.
'I'm just worried about you, son. You're bright enough that you could choose a different path. Wouldn't you like that?'
Daryl relaxed to Rogers' immense relief. 'Sorry, sometimes my tongue gets the better of me...I know you don't mean nothin' by it.' He was calm now as he apologised.
'I understand, son.' That word 'tongue' set off forbidden thoughts and images in the older man's head which he desperately tried to suppress. He silently wondered if this was the right time to maybe get a little bolder? Did what Daryl say just then mean that the trust was there now?
'I just...feel so lonely without him. He said he'll be back next week for real this time but he's said that before loads of times already. I know he's got to bring back money, we barely got enough for food but still...'
His voice was starting to crack and the teacher could swear that he saw tears in the boy's eyes. He was simply adorable and he didn't even know it.
'Come here.' Rogers put what he hoped was a comforting and non-threatening arm around his student and pulled him close. 'It'll be OK. Shh...'
Daryl didn't object and made no resistance as he slumped against him.
'There, there. Merle'll be back soon, you'll see. And you're short of food, I can always share my lunch with you.' Carl joked and patted his arm reassuringly.
'Thanks but I think I'll survive. We ain't that poor.' Daryl snapped, squirming out of his grip now as if realising what had just happened. 'Gotta go...he's waiting for me.'
Rogers didn't miss the slight shudder. 'Daryl...If you need someplace ... to stay you can always come home with me.' He stopped himself from adding 'someplace safe' that would piss off the boy for sure.
'Thanks but I don't. See you tomorrow, Sir.' He waved him goodbye.
'***
A few weeks went on like this, usually starting off with them just having a casual conversation - nothing to do with his family problems even though Merle still hadn't returned back home yet. Rogers could tell that Daryl was desperately worried that something bad had happened meaning that Merle would never come back.
Meanwhile, the high school educator watched his pupil slowly come round, even expecting and looking forward to these 'detentions'. The other students had got bored with teasing him about it, beaten down by the Dixon's fierce glare and Daryl didn't even roll his eyes now when Carl asked him to stay behind practically every day. Carl knew he had to be very careful and not push the boy too fast. It wasn't the first time he thought that in order to bond with a special boy like Daryl Dixon, he had to bide his time. These things couldn't be rushed. Besides, Carl hoped that the rewards he would get for his patience would prove to be amazing.
One day, the teacher had his arms around a particularly upset Daryl who looked like he'd had seven bells knocked out of him that day. The teenager didn't stop Rogers when he crooned words of comfort at him and even let him tentatively stroke his back and this emboldened the man.
They'd got so close after all, Rogers thought hopefully to himself.
Then he made his move.