Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, they really spurred us on to write! What's Rogers going to do now? Will he hurt Daryl or can he fight him off? Poor Daryl, what is the secret of his inexplicable attraction for men like his father?
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Part 26: Teacher's Pet
Rogers already knew that the boy wasn't used to getting affection outside the family - maybe not even then. But the way his favourite student had gradually grown to accept his touches - even leaning into them more and more as time went on, made the high-school educator think that perhaps that wasn't quite true. Someone clearly had given Daryl harmless affection and it was obvious that he enjoyed it if it was the right attention, the attack two years ago not withstanding. Maybe his brutish father had a tender side to him? Carl didn't think so. His beloved big brother then? Far more likely, he mused to himself. This gave Rogers hope that he could eventually make a breakthrough.
The time was right and so the teacher suddenly kissed his cheek without warning. Daryl immediately froze, all wide-eyed in shock.
The fact that Daryl had tensed up like that as if in fear wasn't unexpected. Carl wasn't stupid, it was a huge leap in their developing relationship after all and he didn't expect him to drop into his lap (literally as well as metaphorically) right away.
Daryl remained where he was after Carl drew back to test the waters to the relatively innocent kiss. Although the teacher knew full well that his student wanted to leave but couldn't make his legs work, it didn't discourage him. But Rogers did pause a while just to drink him in – he was looking so deliciously vulnerable. He praised himself for his remarkable self-control.
This is going to be easy, Rogers thought with rising excitement. The boy just needed someone to show him what he was missing: a mentor in the bedroom as well as the classroom. 'Easy now, just let it happen.'
Daryl found his voice then but still made no move to leave. 'Wha...what ya doin'?' He managed to gasp out.
'Makin' ya feel all better,' he replied curtly, taking this as consent to go further and seized hold of him more boldly this time to kiss him passionately on the lips while he caressed his arms briefly. Rogers moaned in delight as he dreamily wondered if the boy worked out to get those defined biceps but pushed that image away when he felt himself become hard. He just couldn't hold himself back from the young, delicious Dixon as he forced his tongue further into the boy's mouth while grabbing his ass roughly.
Before he knew it, he was pinning him against the desk and wanting more than he was being offered and the high-school educator made his student lean back slightly as he kept up his relentless assault on those oh-so-kissable lips.
Daryl struggled, panicking when he felt himself being held
forcibly and groped. Meanwhile, the adult's disgusting tongue thrust its way into his mouth, violating it as well as the rest of his body. As if that wasn't bad enough, being trapped like this brought back memories of his dad getting inventive with his knife.
And...other things he would rather forget.
Not that it mattered what bad memories this latest assault dredged up, the old traumas amplified his feelings of disgust and terror and increased his panic and the sensation of being suffocated a thousand-fold.
'Get the fuck off me! Let me go!' He cried as he struggled uselessly. Rogers was by no means as big or physically intimidating as Mike had been, but he was still only 15. Besides, his teacher's lust and determination gave him added strength.
However, it seemed that Rogers had heard him for the first time during the whole ordeal when he suddenly withdrew.
Relieved that the creep's tongue had left his mouth, Daryl
gasped for air and stared back at the man who he used to think of as a rock to lean on. Stark betrayal and hurt clouded his eyes with tears while he trembled with rage and humiliation.
However, this blessed respite didn't last long as undeterred,
his teacher claimed his lips for his own again. It turned out that Rogers had only stopped kissing him long enough to pant out, 'You don't know how much I want you...'
Daryl's senses went into overdrive at this, his brain trying
to send impulses to his body to react and make it all stop, do anything just to be able to get some distance between them. But there was nothing he could do, his body still stubbornly refused to obey him and left him locked in place. Apparently confirming his perverted teacher's delusions that he wanted this and he could only watch as Rogers drank him in and invaded his personal space time after time again, unable to do a single thing to prevent it from happening.
He felt like he was floating on the ceiling as he watched
himself being ravished when his teacher refused to take no for an answer in his greed.
Daryl felt a hand grip the back of his neck rather roughly and found himself trapped in his teacher's arms. Before he knew it Roger's hand was sliding up under his shirt, grazing over his upper-body. To his horror, those ravenous hands found his nipples and when the fingers fluttered over them, Daryl was unable to keep his gasp of distress in. Of course the teacher took it the wrong way.
His way.
'That's it.' He panted smugly. 'Told you that you would like it', he smiled and pressed a kiss this time to one of Daryl's flushed cheeks: 'I'll make you love this as much I will. Every single second of it, I promise.'
For a second or two, Daryl was in too much in shock to move or
speak at all, until Rogers nimble fingers pulled at his shirt and tried to tug it off him. That got a reaction out of him when he realised what was about to happen.
'No, ya don't get to do that! Told ya to get the fuck off me!' Daryl pushed at his teacher with all the force he could muster and stumbled away from the man so that now at least there was a desk between them. His breathing was harsh as he struggled to get it back under control.
Rogers immediately withdrew and the flush left his face as he finally came to his senses. His hands shook as he frowned down at them as if they were to blame, then looked back at his student. Now he didn't feel as excited, he felt embarrassed. 'Daryl...What did I ...? What just happened?' He took a step closer, looking confused.
Daryl couldn't tell if this was an act or if he really had no idea about what he'd just done.
'You jus' fuckin' kissed me and tried to take my shirt off!' Daryl yelled.
'Keep your voice down!' Rogers glanced around fearfully. 'Now, you know you wanted it too, don't lie to me, Dixon!' He whispered harshly and his eyes sparked with desire as he started to approach him again.
'Sh...It'll be OK...I won't hurt you, promise.' He added softly, in a coaxing tone.
'Told you to stay away!' Daryl backed up further against the wall, his heart beating like a jackhammer but his teacher was relentless in his advance.
…...
'I said No! Are you deaf?'
His teacher only hushed him and continued towards him with a glimmer of lust in his eye making Daryl terrified that he was really about to get raped that day.
'Please stop.'' Daryl pleaded and trembled, hating that pathetic whine that sometimes crept into his voice when his dad was in a more vicious mood than usual. 'Don't.'
Sometimes it worked if he said it in just the right way.
Rogers obeyed to his surprise and stopped halfway across theclassroom. Now he was the one frozen in place.
'Sorry.' He mumbled apologetically and held his hands up to Daryl's astonishment and finally gave up, for now anyway. 'Didn't mean to scare you.'
Rogers now sheepishly retreated back to the front of the classroom to put his own clothes in order, turning his back. 'Must've misread your signals.'
'I'd say you did, you sick fuck!' Daryl screamed, apparently determined to confront him and run away as soon as he could, like many other boys his age would have done. 'What signals, anyway? Are you fuckin' crazy? You're another guy and you're fuckin' old!'
Rogers visibly flinched at that and quickly opened the classroom door to check the corridor. He breathed a sigh of relief as he closed it when he saw it was empty and that silence had descended upon the whole school. They were alone and all this had gone down without a witness.
Carl looked back at Daryl who was glaring daggers at him unsurprisingly even though he was sticking to the invisible boundary between them that the boy had drawn up on his side of the classroom.
It looks like I may have got away with it if he doesn't say anything. Rogers cursed himself for moving too fast and spoiling it before it had even begun. Then he frowned. What the hell was I thinking of doing it here? Could have lured him away somewhere else first?
Talk about taking a huge risk.
The truth was that he hadn't been thinking. Not with his head, anyway. Not to say that he didn't get a particular thrill doing it right in school under the principle's nose but then again, he hadn't expected this boy's fighting spirit. He should have known that a Dixon wouldn't be like all the others – wouldn't just lie down and take it.
'I'm sorry, Daryl. It'll never happen again, I promise.' He crooned and did see him relax almost imperceptibly. 'The way we got so close, the sign….'He started to say, but caught the way the boy looked at him like he was insane and quickly changed track. 'The things we talked about... I was just trying to make you feel all better.'
'Make yourself feel better, more like! How's that 'sposed to make me feel better? Ya think promising me you won't do it again and saying 'sorry' is good enough, huh? Daryl's voice rose once again in his fury. 'I fuckin' trusted you!'
'I thought…you felt the same way because you didn't seem to mind me touching you...' He tried to explain again about the closeness he thought they'd developed and how this led to what had happened but the boy wouldn't let him finish.
'You thought what?' Daryl suddenly snarled. 'Jus' 'cos I told ya some stuff, and didn't shove you away each time you hugged me, that mean you think you have the go ahead to jump me? That was your whole plan all along to get close to me, weren't it, fucker?'
'No...Please son, just let me speak...'
'Don't fuckin' lie to me. I thought you were different, that's all. Obviously I suck at reading people, though I should know by now. Met your type before!'
Rogers winced, remembering what people had said about Mike, Daryl's father's best friend. 'I'm so sorry to hear that.'
Daryl shook his head, momentarily at loss to reply. 'Just shut up…'
Rogers took this chance as he did seem calmer than before and tried again to get out what he wanted to say. 'It will never happen again. I'll never touch you again, I'll keep my distance, I promise. Just please don't...'
Daryl didn't quite believe him and if he could read the future he would have known he was right not to as he continued to punish the man with his words.
'I trusted you! Thought you gave a shit about me... But you're jus'
like all the others.' Daryl interrupted and advanced on him rather than running away. 'Ya fuckin' touch me or another boy... Or try to make me stay behind again, I'm gonna tell everyone what ya did. Jus' a pervert like everyone says. ' He spat at him, his fury had momentarily replaced the terror. Carl shuddered at his words, but his student rightfully ignored it.
Daryl stormed furiously out of the classroom without looking back, preoccupied with shaking his head and muttering 'Sick fuck' under his breath and missed the shadow slipping away. Rogers had got it wrong because unknown to either of them, someone had been watching from outside the classroom, had seen the forced kiss and groping Daryl had endured and witnessed Daryl's furious reaction.
Rogers found himself standing alone in the now otherwise empty
classroom. He couldn't believe he'd missed the significance of those dirty jokes aimed at him by the students, in a way they also served as warnings to Daryl.
Thinking if he just ignored them, they would lose their power.
But Daryl had not listened to a single one of them, sweet boy that he was.
And how had he repaid him for giving him a chance?
Groping him and scaring the shit out of him.
Carl Rogers sighed and sat down, while waves of regret and hopelessness washed over him.
Despite himself, the teacher was shocked at his lack of control,
he hadn't even stopped when the boy told him to, which was very unlike him. He wasn't a real pervert like he'd been accused of after all who foisted his attentions where they weren't wanted and he was proud that none of his boys had ever rejected him – at least not outright – like Daryl had done. It had been like something had taken over his body and bypassed his brain and for that, he was truly sorry.
He couldn't shake off how hurt and distressed Daryl had looked – unfortunately, he was looking even more delectable with his cuts and bruises standing out even as he'd been chewing him out and Carl knew that he had probably lost his trust forever.
The boy hated him - who knew if he was ever going to attend his class again after this.
The teacher sighed, finally realising that he could be in
some serious shit if the boy told someone what he'd just done to him.
That his 'special projects' - the students he'd picked out for his individual attention hadn't gone unnoticed after all and there was suspicion laid upon him.
Someone had obviously blabbed.
He should have kept the last boy but Dale looked like he was on the verge of telling. Besides, he had aged out, and most of them at the age of 17 started to look like men and he lost interest in them. But Daryl looked young for his age – Rogers reckoned he could have got at least 2 more years pleasure out of him if not for much longer than usual. There was just something about him.
When they grew older and filled out, they lost their vulnerability and just didn't hold the same allure for him.
He had picked them – the lonely ones, the bullied and vulnerable.
The boys who had trouble at home like Daryl. Some who were confused about their sexuality, fearing that they were gay, however, by the time he'd finished with them, they were no longer unsure.
Carl could genuinely say that he had tried to help them, those lost boys and gone further than most teachers would have done. But it seemed that he'd underestimated the youngest Dixon who'd fought him off and then threatened him. Daryl had taken back the control, laid down the law while making him feel like a piece of shit.
He should have remembered that for all the boy's look of sweet vulnerability and wistfulness at times, he was still a damn Dixon and in their neighbourhood, you left them well alone.
He cursed himself again for rushing the boy when he wasn't ready.
Robbing himself of the expectations and anticipation he would feel when Daryl eventually caved and willingly at that. After all, they nearly always did.
A shiver ran down his spine - what if the boy told his father or his brother what had happened?
Judging by how upset he'd been, he'd no doubt be painted as
a fucking monster when he'd never hurt or forced any of his boys to do anything.
Because that was perverted and evil. They'd all been willing – especially some of the ambitious ones and not least for top grades.
He couldn't help his addiction and he had to admit that it had been one of the main driving factors for choosing the teaching profession: his love of young boys. But it wasn't like they were children and he was no child molester! But would the Dixons and everyone else see him that way? Society had it wrong. They couldn't understand about the love between him and his boys. How special it could all be with the right boy, and something told him that Daryl was that right boy. Now he had fucked that all up.
But it had all gone wrong and now he was dreading the next classes where the Dixon boy would no doubt be glaring at him from the back – his contempt and loathing clear on his face with their secret hanging heavy between them.
That was if Daryl bothered to turn up at all, he knew he could get away with skipping math because Rogers wouldn't want any trouble.
Not after the huge mistake he'd just made with him.
He also shouldn't forget that Daryl had also threatened him.
But did his threats mean that if he didn't shit on his own doorstep in future that the Dixon would hold up his end of the deal and keep quiet?
Carl sincerely hoped so. Finally, the math teacher faced up to himself, what he was, and what he'd done making that gun hidden in his drawer at home seem all the more attractive.
He'd bought it originally for intruders but he might as well use it on
himself because if the boy told his father or brother, he was as good as dead anyway - might as well make how and when his own choice. At least that way, he'd be spared the humiliation of being fired, the wrath of angry parents when it all came out, not to mention the court case that was if the Dixons didn't get to him first. They'd make him suffer long and terribly like they had the reputation for doing to anyone who crossed them and on some level, he understood that. He'd violated their youngest after all.
Part of him felt that it would be a relief, not to have to fight or hide his affliction, no - his addiction, he corrected himself. For the first time because of one boy being brave enough to stand up to him, Carl Rogers found the courage to face what he was. What he'd done. His thoughts drifted then back to Chris, the promising young man destined to get out of that hellhole with a sports scholarship to a university in Atlanta who had hung himself after Rogers dumped him the day after he turned 17.
Carl hadn't questioned himself. He'd even gone to the funeral and offered his condolences to the family – they had no idea that they'd been lovers and the dark part of him got a sick kick out of knowing their son far better than any of them had. Since it happened, Rogers had convinced himself that they had drifted apart and Chris' death had nothing to do with his brusque rejection. In reality, dumping him had to do with more than just Chris's age, there was simply nothing more he could do for the boy.
He'd also figured that since Chris had a scholarship he'd leave the village and his older lover pretty soon anyway and he'd been shocked as the next person and sick with guilt when the golden boy had decided to take his own life.
Fortunately, Daryl had distracted him even then from his thoughts of grief and regret, because that was the same year Merle's little brother was due to make an appearance in his class and he was excited over the challenge that was to come.
Rogers had seen him around town trotting happily besides his big brother and been surprised at how different they were. Merle was blonde and Daryl brunette but they had the same steely cobalt blue eyes and contemptuous twists to their mouths to match each identical cocky expression and bad-boy swagger.
Look at him now - that same fearless boy had forced him to confront himself years later, and no matter how much he tried to sugar-coat it, he'd molested them.
Molested.
Picked on their vulnerability and taken advantage of his power over them as their teacher and now part of him felt that he deserved to die.
Daryl had been the one who had made him lose control, but
also he'd been the one to make him see. Even though he was pretty sure it was a lost cause, maybe Daryl could still be persuaded. After all, he'd given him a taste even if the boy insisted he was straight but Carl Rogers wasn't going to give up on the student he'd invested in most. He just had to apologize better – not only in words but in action.
He needed to prove to Daryl that he could be trusted and that he did care about him, that he had nothing to fear. That he hadn't just done it all for meaningless sex or with the intentions of abusing him. Not least for the sake of his job, probably his life too if the father and big brother got wind of it.
He could bide his time patiently and wait for an opportunity. He'd got away with it this long even though the whole school apparently 'knew'. Of course, being the younger brother of the school principle must have helped - Principle Rogers was his older brother who had practically given him this job. Meaning that the other teachers were probably afraid to accuse him and were scared of being forced to take up the slack if he went.
Not least because they were severely understaffed – who in their right mind would want to work in a shithole hick village in the backwaters of Georgia?
Did Ryan know about his special hobby? He didn't think so.
But if he did and was just turning a blind eye to his brother's secret weakness, he always made sure he was protected.
Daryl stormed out of there and went straight to the toilets
but those on the far side of the building. After he had shown his true colours, the last thing Daryl needed right now was for the sick fuck teacher to follow him.
Finally, alone, he started to shake for real, this time in
his whole body. He let out a quiet whimper when he could still feel the teacher's hands all over him, one on his ass, one slithering down his chest and the tongue he forced into his mouth. The man's trembling fingers as they ghosted over his skin, just like he was a crack-addict having his fix of the day - as if Daryl was an 'all you can snort' buffet.
He couldn't help but to wonder why this happened to him twice already.
Why were these creeps into him?
He was sitting on the seat, head bowed and trying to get his stubborn body back under control. When he failed to do this, he burst out of the stall suddenly overwhelmed with disgust and terror. First, he ran to the sink and washed his mouth out. He breathed out a long sigh of relief that he was still alone with no witnesses and regretted the lack of something stronger to wash out the feel, the taste and the smell of the man. Something like a nice, cool beer would sit just with him fine right about now, he thought as he gripped the edge of the sink hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.
Daryl tried to calm down, told himself he was lucky.
After all, he'd managed to stop it. Bastard hadn't got to do anything...much.
If that was true, why was he trembling like crazy and on the verge of crying like a little pussy, for fuck's sake?
In anger, to stop the pathetic tears of rage, he ran up and
kicked the stall door again and again and again until it half broke off its hinges, partly he was angry at himself and gave the door a particularly vicious kick as he hissed his thoughts aloud, 'How the fuck could I be so stupid?'.
Then his inward anger took a quick turn to the person it should have really been aimed at in the first place, 'That sick fuck! Where does he get off thinking….?'
'Daryl?'
He heard someone calling his name in the middle of a daze and wheeled around in surprise to see his best friend standing in the doorway staring at him.
'What happened?' Eric asked him not for the first time.
Then again, that question usually related to whatever Daryl's dad had done most recently, but there was no dad here. Regardless of this, Daryl didn't falter much when answering or change his usual story as he replied: 'Nothin'.'
He straightened up then and washed away the tears and snot off his face.
'He jus' got to me, is all. Started spoutin' shit about my Dad and Merle that ain't even true.'
'Uh...OK. Don't worry, everybody knows he's a dick.' Eric tried to comfort him. 'Dunno why he makes you stay behind like that…All those detentions when most times, you ain't even done nothin' wrong. Fuckin' creepy if you ask me.'
Daryl didn't comment although he knew now exactly why Rogers had been so interested in him.
It hurt.
All those afternoons that he'd spent talking to the older man who never seemed to have a mean bone in his body. Him giving advice and always knowing what to say to make him feel if only slightly better. In fact, the classroom where he spent time alone with him had been a kind of refuge where he felt safe from the incessant war going on at home even as he pretended it was all a chore and he hated it. Now it all had been yanked away just like that. And for what?
Daryl felt betrayed and angry with himself for not taking the rumours and jokes seriously. He had naively thought the teacher was harmless – that he'd never do to him what people said he would. Now look what good his trust had done for him in the end! He'd only been interested in his body after all just like Mike, he had only pretended to care about him.
He had wanted to give Rogers a chance, the man had tried to talk to him for years already, the teacher always had a kind word to offer in his direction...
He'd been so encouraging, to the point where Daryl thought he might even have a chance to get out of the shithole he'd grown up in. He'd just thought that he seemed like a decent guy who could help him not end up like his Dad and Merle.
But instead, he'd really just been playing him the whole time to get him into bed when Daryl didn't even like men, let alone an old one in his thirties.
Daryl was dumb, that was what the problem was. Why would anyone see anything promising in him when he came from the family he came from?
Everyone looking down on them because of their accent and his junkie thieving brother and his alcoholic father? His dad knew he was worthless, otherwise why would he beat and punish him so much? How could he have believed that he would ever escape the clutches of his father or ever be able to live without Merle? Or escape their lifestyles?
Then again, he didn't want to be apart from his brother – he often had this fantasy when his dad was particularly violent and spiteful that when the old man died, they would share a house - work and live together as brothers - with their women, maybe even their kids.
Doing what, he didn't know yet but it was a nice daydream to use as an escape.
Musing on all this, he'd fallen behind his friend. Eric called out to him and so he bit the inside of his cheeks and caught up so they could exit the school and start walking home together.
All the while Daryl was smothering another tantrum big enough that it would probably have Eric question his sanity if he were to let it out.
Eric of course noticed he was still fuming with anger, and good champ that he was, he didn't comment or talk much and before they parted, he tried to hug him and Daryl flinched.
'Sorry.' The other boy drew back and frowned when he noticed his reaction.
'No, it's OK.' Daryl did something he didn't normally do and hugged him first.
Eric even patted his shoulder. 'Fuck him.' He said. 'Don't let him get you down. If he tries anything else like that you can always report him.'
Tries what? Daryl would rather drop dead than let Eric know what had actually gone down that afternoon. 'For what? Talking to me?' He tested him with one eyebrow raised.
'Nah, he bad-mouths your family, and holds you back behind class for nothing mostly. Pretty suspicious if ya ask me. Not to mention all those rumours about him...
Surprised he hasn't been dragged into the cop-shop for questioning already. Be careful.'
'Thanks, I will.' Daryl was the first to pull away. 'See ya tomorrow.'
'Ya'll come to dinner one day? My parents, they like ya – they won't mind.'
'Yeah, sure. 'Bye.'
'Bye.' Eric called after him as he began to walk home.
Daryl had met Eric's parents a couple of times, although it hadn't
been for more than a quick 'Hi.' They seemed vaguely normal, and one day he would probably be invited to dinner by them. But now, Daryl wasn't hungry. Food was the last thing he felt like facing. In fact, he felt sick all the way to his stomach and strange to say, all he wanted was his brother or failing that, as a last resort – even his father.
He'd nearly got home when another wave of shakes hit.
Daryl had to take shelter under a tree where hopefully nobody could see him as a full-blown panic attack assaulted him and his legs gave way.
He shook his head. Fuck!
Get a grip, nothing happened. Nothing happened. Just like he'd told Eric.
If nothing happened, why did it suddenly feel like he couldn't
breathe, unable to catch his breath?
Daryl knew that he couldn't go home in this state back to
his father or his brother if by some miracle he'd returned home like he said he was going to sometime this week. Something business-like and final in his voice on the phone had told Daryl that he meant it for real this time, but Will's impatience was growing by the day and now he didn't even let his injuries heal like he used to whenever Merle said that.
Will had heard it so often before.
Daryl was most afraid that his dad and Merle if he was home would sense something bad had happened to him and depending on which mood they were in, Daryl would either get
comforted or taunted for letting it happen in the first place.
Getting himself into that situation again...showing weakness and letting a stranger – another adult - get that close to him. Touch him, even. But Daryl doubted that neither of them would blame him, not even his dad, even though he was older now than when it first had happened. After all, he remembered how last time after Mike, their typical Dixon attitude of "toughen-up or you're a sissy attitude" had gone with the wind.
Still, no matter how much of a shitbag Rogers was, Daryl didn't want to see him 'disappear' like Mike or worse – see his brother go to jail for nothing or have that piece of shit's death on his conscience. After all, Rogers knew he wasn't interested and had backed off.
Daryl sighed and raked his hand over his face. It was hopeless, they would without doubt recognise the signs, know that something had happened to him. At school of all places.
They'd be able to read him like an open book.
With a chest full of dread getting heavier the closer he got to home, all he wanted was to go straight to bed and pull the covers over his head. Forget the whole damn thing. After all, Rogers had apologised and promised he would leave him alone in future.
But what if he started on another boy just because Daryl had told him to fuck off?
Daryl couldn't stand the thought of someone else taking his place and having the teacher do to them what he'd done to him.
Then again, he'd thought he'd made it pretty clear to the pervert that if he touched another boy again, he would make sure it got out.
Daryl sighed in resignation but was grateful that he was calm enough now to be able to get to his feet shakily.
Fuck Rogers! But what was at the forefront of his mind now even above the anger he was still feeling, was that he mustn't let his dad see how it had affected him and that something was wrong.
Especially as it had already happened before.
Daryl comforted himself with the fact that his dad would probably be drunk when he got home and if he could get away without rousing his anger, he would probably never know. By tomorrow after a good night's rest, Daryl could keep the truth from him as long as he kept to his story that nothing happened. He also had more chance if Merle wasn't home yet – it would be harder to hide the signs from both of them. Yet Daryl crossed his fingers that his brother would be keeping his word this time and that he had returned home early.
He missed his big brother badly.
