Chapter Two
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Merle jerked at the painfully familiar voice that reached his ears, dehydration, pain, and blood loss making his head spin as gentle, yet callous hand yanked the saw away from him.
He looked up, smiling slightly at the wide-eyed man staring back at him, panic in his eyes.
"Hey there, Lil D. Merle's alright." He slurred, fighting to keep his eyes open.
His baby brother snorted, hands trembling as he helped him sip from his canteen. Merle sighed, feeling his energy slowly return as the life-giving liquid hit his throat.
Officer Friendly stood behind Daryl his gun fixed on the door, while the Asian kid dug through his backpack for one thing or another. The black guy treated his wrist, tensing at their close proximity, and he was tempted to spout more of the bullshit he'd been saying at the quarry just to rile him further.
A tense glare from his brother stopped that train of thought, the younger man pulling the bottle from his lips and replacing it with a protein bar.
"Think you're well enough to fight?"
Merle took mental stock of his body, then nodded.
He wasn't a hundred percent but he was well enough to take down as many biters as need be.
Daryl stared at him for a moment, keen eyes assessing him, and he could practically see the warrior in his brother shoving its way to the forefront. It always stunned him to see the transformation, because for the longest time, he'd been Daryl's protector. He'd never done a very good job of it, but it had been enough to get the younger through his childhood without losing his innocence to their father's violence.
War had changed that.
War had taken what little innocence his brother had left and shattered it with brutal efficiency turning the man in front of him into a warrior, one of the best the military had ever seen. He'd been one of the youngest people to even make it into special ops, and his codename, Lycan, was well known among all the branches as being the deadliest man America had ever produced.
He should be proud…but it hurt.
He'd never wanted that for his brother.
Daryl had been a precocious child, with artistic and musical talents the rest of their family lacked. He remembered listening to the boy sing when their Pa was out getting drunk at one bar or another, listening as over the year his voice went from the high pitch of a child to the smooth low pitch of a tenor, then vanish all together, when he stopped singing completely.
Staring into hard grey-blue eyes, as he was helped to his feet, he pushed it all away, focusing on the present. Now wasn't the time to reminisce on the past, not when it had shaped his brother into a man capable of surviving the world as it was now. Only at night as he slept would he allow himself to dream of what could've been.
*/*
Daryl Dixon was deadly.
It shouldn't be such an arousing thought but as Rick thought back to how the younger man had moved as they fought the walkers, the low dark drawl he'd used to threated the kid that got Glenn kidnapped, and the brutally efficient way he'd dealt with the walkers as they escaped, he couldn't help the trill of lust it sent racing down his spine.
The hunter was beautiful and something about him called to Rick's dominant nature in a way Lori never had, the danger coiled in his lean body only making the want to dominate him that much more thrilling. He doubted Dixon would be as submissive as some of the subs he'd had before marrying Lori. His wife, who was far from fond of his dominate behavior and the lifestyle he'd lived before it, was very vanilla in the bedroom and he'd been left to wrangle in that side of his personality since they'd gotten together. He hadn't minded much, as no one had appealed to him in that fashion…at least until now.
There was something about the hunter that made him want to hold him and take care of him, even knowing he could care for himself and the urge was so strong that when the man leaned against his injured brother exhausted, he'd only just resisted wrapping a blanket around him and stroking his hair.
Shaking his head to get his thoughts under control, he turned his attention back to their steadily approaching destination.
The camp was under attack.
Hurriedly he parked the van and exited, diving into the fray.
Around him, he could see the others joining as well, bullets flying and melee weapons swinging.
Both Dixons were blurs of movement, the smaller nearly dancing as he cut down opponent after opponent.
Rick could be forgiven if his dick twitched just the slightest bit in interest.
He tried not feel guilty about the thoughts, especially when he noticed the both Shane and Lori were missing from the fray.
He knew that if it meant what he thought it did then perhaps his thoughts about the younger Dixon could be forgiven.
Even if Merle was glaring at him with the hell of an overprotective sibling burning in his eyes.
*/*
Daryl wasn't sure what to think of Rick Grimes.
The man had been keeping a close eye on him since they'd rescued Merle and if it were anyone else, his paranoia would've been flaring and yet something in the man's gaze called to him.
There was a sense of safety that emanated from him, that made everything in him yearn to be wrapped in that warmth, a thought that made him scowl.
This was the man who'd left Merle handcuffed to a rooftop for fuck's sake!
What the hell was wrong with him?
Growling in frustration her drove his pick axe into the skull of the walker in front of him harder than necessary, ignoring the flashes of bloodstained fields that tried to superimpose themselves over his surroundings. He couldn't afford to have a fit right now, not around all these people, none of whom he trusted barring Merle. He needed to take his meds and soon, or he would hurt someone.
Seeking out his elder brother's form with his eyes, his lips curled into a vicious snarl, eyes flashing when he saw Walsh and Grimes teaming up on him, the elder Dixon's shot gun pointed on the man they called Jim. A bloody bite mark marred the man's arm and he could automatically tell what had happened.
What the hell was wrong with these people?
Didn't they know if they left the man alive he'd turn, and then there was a chance he'd kill them all, children included.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He snarled, storming over and shoving Walsh away from his brother.
The man was still injured and if Walsh hurt him more, he'd kill him, humanity be damned.
"We don't kill the living." Grimes said and Daryl scowled.
"You left him on a roof to die and now you're pointing a gun at him. You don't have a right to play moral high ground, Grimes." He snapped and the man frowned.
"Jim is not a dog to be put down Daryl!"
"No, he's infected! The bites turn ya. The scratches turn ya! There is no cure! If you leave him alive he'll turn and all of our lives will be at stake. My vote, take care of it now."
"Is that what you'd want?" Rick tried and Daryl snorted. "I'd pull the trigger myself."
Everyone froze, staring at the hunter who shook his head and turned to Merle.
"I'm gonna put our shit in the truck while they try to decide what to do." His piece said and stormed away, ignoring them all. If they wanted to play for sainthood fine, but he wanted no part of it.
And if the sun reminded him of the blistering heat of Iraq, well no one had to know.
*/*
The CDC was a bust.
He and Daryl had tried to tell everyone but with them being Dixons no one had bothered to listen and now they were trapped inside the building with a doctor hellbent of blowing the place to kingdom come.
Grimes and Walsh were fucking idiots.
Beside him, he could see Daryl pale, his hands trembling as he tried to control his breathing and he prayed that the other man could stave off the fit set off by watching the TS-19 video Jenner had just finished playing.
"Let us out!" He growled, raising the ax in his hands threateningly and Jenner sighed.
"It's better this way." He tried to assure them. "Painless. Your children won't feel pain or hunger, afraid and uncertain whether every day would be their last. Afraid of the undead walking among us."
"Please," The grey-haired woman, Carol, pleaded clutching her daughter to her chest and he felt something in him ache at the sight.
Grimes' wife was holding her child as well, sobbing in terror at the thought that this could be her son's last day on earth.
They continued to plead and finally Jenner released them. Fighting their way out of the building, Merle grabbed his brother, grateful they managed to reach his truck before the building exploded, otherwise the fit that followed would've had the entire camp pestering the younger Dixon.
His eyes narrowed, and he glanced at the sleeping man in the passenger seat.
Especially Grimes.
He'd seen the interest in Grimes eyes as he looked at his baby brother, the dark vestiges of lust that lingered there as he tracked Daryl's every move. Worse, he's seen the interest returned in Daryl's eyes, even if his baby brother seemed confused about his own emotions.
However, Grimes was married and Daryl was too good to play second to the man's wife and child. Plus, with his PTSD growing worse by the day, despite the medicine, he wouldn't dare allow Rick to fuck with the boy's emotions. It didn't even matter to him that Grimes' wife and Walsh were sleeping together, if Grimes thought he would use Daryl to get back at them he had another thing coming.
Merle would make sure he knew better…even if he had to break his bones to do it.
TBC…