Daryl could not sleep that night. All the prior intoxication has evaporated the moment his brain made a connection between the smell and the redhead he has associated it with. Hell, he's smoked that crap with her one too many times to mistake it for anything else.
And his surroundings were dodgy enough for Daryl to be able to tell that grass apart from other varieties anyone's in the area ever had. There was no doubt about a connection between Leanne and Merle, but it was impossible for him to even start imagining what could it be.
For damn surest though, his brother wasn't the type to have deep conversations with a girl that's high. Leanne wasn't the type to be around someone as brutish as Merle either. Or...Was she? Her words of doing everything to piss the world off rang in his head, opening the door to the possibility of his worst fear being true.
With just that, something Daryl has spent the past few weeks looking forward to became something he would avoid. Fast forward, it was yet another night he chose to spend gazing at the ceiling of the filthy trailer he and Merle shared, as opposed to studying the stars in their high bliss with Leanne.
The damned girl. On one hand, Daryl couldn't stomach the thought of ever seeing her again. There was no evidence she and Merle ever as much as met, other than the smell of weed. On the other hand, uncharacteristically to himself, he was starting to experience symptoms of withdrawal.
Was it really weed they smoked? Because he felt like he needed a fix, soon. Or could it be the redhead's company he was growing desperate for? Either way, it was becoming unbearable and, three days in, he has finally cracked.
"Oi," he called out for Merle, tossing a can of beer from a mini-fridge at him prior to opening his own. Whatever he was to learn, Daryl knew he would need a drink after. "Remember the redhead lass from the camp?"
Merle caught the can and opened it with no hesitation before barking back.
"Ginger pubes? Aye, what about her, little brother? The wonder of her downstairs colour keeps you up a night?"
Daryl snorted at the taunt. The key was not to let Merle see he was agitated, alas hearing him talk about Leanne like this did make his blood boil. When did he become so protective of her?
"Nah. Just haven't seen her since."
"Oh, she's alive and well, dont'cha worry. The girl is a freak, I tell you that. Keeps quiet but ain't no damsel."
This made him alert at once. There was a lot of truth to what Merle said, and that's precisely what made Daryl uneasy. He took a big swig of his beer, trying to keep his cool and wits within himself.
"Yeah? How'd you know?"
That's when Merle roared with laughter, drizzling some of the piss cheap beer over himself. Daryl's heart dropped to his stomach as this was confirmation the two were no strangers. Now there was the most difficult part to come. Learning what the actual connection was. Judging from Merle's reaction, one drink wouldn't be enough to wash down his findings.
Having calmed down, Merle put the beer aside and dug into a pile of trash near an old ragged armchair he was sitting on. A few horribly long seconds later, he finally pulled out an object that did stand out from the washed-out room like a sore thumb with its emerald vibrance.
The pair of knickers Daryl has spotted the morning after the party.
Without saying a thing, Merle tossed it at him. Daryl flinched and nearly jumped up to his feet as the undergarment landed on his lap.
"She was kind enough to give me a gift," Merle explained, with a shit-eating grin.
Daryl couldn't move. He wanted to get the damn piece of fabric off himself, feeling as if it was making him as dirty as it has stained his image of Leanne. Yet there was still no way he could disclose any of the raging emotions from within to Merle; this would not go down well.
"How?" He finally managed to muster, although that single word was nearly impossible to get out of his throat. To Daryl himself, it felt stifled, as if he was trying to hold something much bigger back. He imagined Merle has definitely registered that. Alas, the older Dixon didn't seem to notice a thing.
"That first night. Went in for a piss and found her in the bathroom. No questions asked. Threw herself at me. An animal that one, I'm tellin' ya. Started rippin' my clothes off, had no other choice but do her there and then. Fuck me, them city boys must have their cocks up each other's asses because the bitch was in need."
None of it made sense. This could not be the same girl they were talking about. Not a devilishly malicious yet undeniably intelligent and far-sighted Leanne. Yet, Daryl despised the fact he could clearly see her pulling something like that simply out of spite for the world.
He must have been nursing his beer for too long now as Merle has finally noticed something was up.
"Don't be sad, little brother," he cooed, with fake sympathy. "I only tested the waters for ya. She will let you hit too. Best of 'em all that one, easy and wild."
The more he spoke, the more numb Daryl was starting to get. What did he expect to happen anyway? Leanne was too good to be true, he knew that all along. But this was a hit from where he wouldn't expect it to come.
Most of all, he was at the loss at what to do next. Confront the redhead? Cut her off for good before this has gone any further? Although they were nothing but two people smoking weed and chatting every other night, the sting of betrayal was undeniable.
"I'm good," Daryl heard himself saying, followed by a snort. "Keep your sloppy seconds. Ain't into sluts anyways."
