TTWH 7

i.

Glenn

It was six weeks since they'd rescued Daryl and day by day, they could see him getting slowly better. A long way off yet from where he'd been before, yet he was flinching less, eating more – Merle hardly ever needed to coax him to eat a full plate now. The nightmares and bad dreams came less frequently now and Herschel marvelled that he was apparently recovering from his ordeal so quickly. Even though Glenn would never forgive Merle for delivering Maggie to the Governor, even if he forgave him, and the older Dixon was creepy as hell, they'd all been surprised how he took over taking care of Daryl. Seemed somehow to be making him better, speeding up the healing process. So they tolerated Merle for Daryl's sake. Glenn missed comforting Daryl at night, he'd told Maggie what he'd done and she'd smiled, letting him know that she understood. Besides, he'd always been back in the morning when she woke up and she'd been none the wiser.

Maggie had said that she hoped that Merle would go after Daryl's attackers – if they were still alive somewhere after they burnt down Woodbury and killed the Governor and get himself killed. But he'd replied, 'What about Daryl?'.

She'd shrugged, 'We don't know what the bastard did in Woodbury, remember he was second in command to that psycho, probably joined in raping the prisoners too.'

'We don't know that for sure.' He found himself defending Daryl's brother for some inexplicable reason.

'You on Merle's side?' She asked incredously. 'After what he did to me? To us?'

'I'm not on anyone's side! I just want what's best for Daryl. And you would too, if you really cared about him.'

That got her and she drew back. 'Of course, I do.'

'Well, just put up with Merle. He never bothers us and Daryl says he's sorry and wants to make up for everything.'

'Uh OK. And what if he's a threat? You seen the way he is with Daryl – it gives me the creeps! It's like ….like...' She shuddered, unable to put her thought into words.

'Well, he was held and gang-raped for days! Of course, he's gonna be different with him after that. Besides, that's their business. Daryl can handle him and we need them to protect the group.' Glenn told her. 'Time to put our differences aside.'

ii.

It was dinner round the campfire – the Dixons had caught a deer that day so everyone filled up on venison stew. Daryl was yawning because the Dixons had been up before the crack of dawn to track the big buck, when Merle whispered 'Let's go. I got a treat to cheer ya up back in our tent' in his ear. Daryl gave a small smile that cheered his brother to see as he pushed Merle's arms away from him where they were wrapped around him protectively as usual since the rapes and got to his feet. ''Night, folks.' He said and the others returned his greeting. Merle grinned around at everybody but got no response before he followed his brother back to their tent.

'Lookee, what I got.' Merle drew out the big bottle of handmade booze once they were inside while Daryl's eyes lit up at the sight of it.'Didn't want to share with the rest of the group – all the more for us, hey, little brother?'

'No, guess not.' Daryl turned away but Merle smirked. Knew his brother was playing hard to get with the booze.

'If ya want it, baby boy, ya gonna have to come and get it.'

'Fuck off. I ain't no alchoholic like him.' Daryl snarled. 'Can go without.'

Merle chuckled at the mind games they were playing. 'Suit yaself.' He unscrewed it and tantalisingly slowly, tipped it into his mouth. 'Mmmm...Fuck – some good moonshine, bro. Might even make me go blind. Would ya like that? ' He laughed.

Daryl had turned his back to him stubbornly but Merle could see he was cracking. They hadn't had a decent drink for months.

'Ooh...what a kick. This is the real stuff, Darlena! Sure ya don't want some?'

'Give it 'ere.' Merle smirked as Daryl grabbed the bottle and ripped it from him. Put his arm around his little brother as he gulped down large swallows of the stuff.

'Careful – don't choke yaself.' Merle took the bottle away from him while Daryl growled. He hadn't nearly finished!

Merle smoothed back Daryl's hair as he took large swigs before he handed it back to him.

'Easy.'

When most of the bottle was gone, Daryl slumped back. 'That was some potent shit.' He sighed but immediately reached for it again.

'Uh …uh...huh!' Merle told him and teasingly put it out of reach behind him.

'Fuck ya, Merle. Give it me.'

Merle laughed and brushed back a stray strand from his baby brother's forehead.

'Come and get it.'

'Fuck off!'

Merle chuckled and beckoned to him with a crook of his finger. Daryl lunged for the bottle but Merle got in his way. They growled and wrestled, somehow without knocking it over and Daryl ended up underneath him.

Merle saw the fear flicker in his eyes and heard his breath hitch, knowing what memories it must bring back to him being pinned down, he got off him. 'Only playin', little brother, only playin'. '

'Fuck you.' Daryl snarled, embarrassed about his moment of weakness and lunged at him. The bottle got knocked over, spilling its contents all over the tent floor but neither paid heed to it.

Before Merle knew it, Daryl was on top of him and pressing his lips to his. Thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Merle moaned and returned the kiss just as hungrily before they drew back for air. 'Wha...what the fuck ya doin', baby brother?' Even though Merle had dreamt of this moment – Daryl making the first move, Daryl willing - ever since he could remember.

Daryl threw back his head and laughed. 'I seen the way ya been lookin' at me, brother. What ya want but I never gave you. Why ya hold me so tight – ain't jus' cos' of what happened to me..'

Merle frowned and shook him by the shoulders. 'That's sick. We're brothers.'

'So? I want it and you want it. Most of all, I want ya to make me forget. Them and what they did.'

Daryl's mouth twisted and he started to slyly stroke his brother's crotch. 'Please, Merle. Make me forget.'

'Please. Please.' His pleas and the sweet desperation in his eyes made something in Merle's chest twist – where his heart was. Merle moaned as Daryl kept touching him, teasing him before he took his hand away abruptly.

'Ya sure ya really want this and it ain't jus' the drink talkin'?' Merle felt he had to make sure first.

Daryl smirked. Started stripping his clothes off while licking his lips and pouting at his older brother. Merle could hold back no longer as he grabbed him and pushed him to the canvas floor.

Daryl started struggling and making whimpering sounds and he knew he had changed his mind. Got off him immediately but then he turned himself back onto his back to look up at him and Merle saw that he was laughing! Not scared at all but mocking him! He was excited! He'd been writhing on the floor, not struggling and his whimpers had been of ones of excitement, not fear or pain.

'What ya waiting for, big brother?' He smirked up at him. Want and fire in his eyes.

'Right, that's it ya little shit. Ya want it, ya gonna get it.' Merle started to undress him hurriedly, yanking down his pants and underwear before undoing his own flies.

'Come here.' He grasped him by the hips and pulled him to him. Stroked his back soothingly, not wanting Daryl to suddenly get scared and back out. 'Merle ain't gonna hurt ya, only gonna make ya forget those sick fucks.'

Daryl trembled -muscles rippling under his skin and Merle hissed. 'Fuck, ya so beautiful. Gonna make ya feel real good, baby brother.' He kissed the back of his neck then, making him whimper and shiver with pleasure. ' I always wanted ya but held back...'

Daryl grabbed his hand. 'Well, then, what the fuck ya waitin' for?'

Merle looked around for the small tub of grease that always came handy in these situations before he...

….

Woke up with a shout. Heart thumping in his chest. Nearly knocking over the bottle of illegal booze that still had about a third in it.

What the fuck? He patted around him and found Daryl who snarled – still half asleep. At least they both had their clothes on which would suggest...Merle didn't finish that thought.

'Fuck...ya woke me up.' He growled, reluctantly opening his eyes. 'Head's thumpin'.'

'Jus' a bad dream, little brother. Ain't light yet – go back to sleep.'

'You have bad dreams?' Daryl cursed him before he turned over, muttering angrily at being disturbed. Merle guessed he was feeling pretty sick from the moonshine – looked like they'd polished off most of it.

He couldn't get back to sleep and he felt OK besides the sick dream about almost fucking his baby brother and Daryl wanting it, he was horny as hell. He knew he'd have to take care of it – one way or another but he had an idea. He felt like a shit – as sick as their Dad. Maybe the sickness was genetic – inherited, in any case he was glad that Daryl had been spared it.

He'd done that for him at least.

Merle slipped out as quietly as he could, not to wake up Daryl and walked briskly. Over to Andrea's tent.

Knelt down. 'Hi, ya there, sweet cheeks?' He whispered.

He heard stirring inside and then her tousled, blonde hair appeared, looking at him sleepily.

'Merle – what the fuck?' She hissed and looked around but everyone else was sleeping deeply apparently. 'Someone might see!' She whispered loudly.

Fortunately, like their tent, hers was a bit on the edge of the campfield, near the woods and more away from the others. He knew she was an independent woman – had lived in Atlanta before the Walker plague broke out. What would have formally been called 'A high-maintenance' woman– not the type that he or his brother would ever have come across or had a chance in hell of being with during the old days. Before the world ended and everything went to shit.

He didn't even ask if he could come in, just unzipped the tent and crawled inside. But her cheeks suddenly flushing and the excitement suddenly lighting up her eyes was all the answer he needed.

'Got an itch.' He told her before she kissed him and her hands started fumbling for his belt. 'Care to scratch it for me?' She chewed on her lower lip but of course he didn't say it was the dream about fucking his own brother that had given him the hard-on.

'Sh...' She replied. 'How is he? Is he OK with you leaving him alone?'

'Boy's sleepin'.' Changing the subject, he asked, stopping suddenly, 'They didn't hurt ya, did they? I mean, really hurt ya?' The guilt that suddenly hit him, along with the image of Daryl's disgusted expression full of loathing at the things he'd done that had cut him to shreds made Merle suddenly worried. Had made him more careful about the thorny issue of consent than ever before. He drew back to inspect her face carefully to see her expression while she thought he looked more like Daryl in that moment.

'Nah. Not like...like …' She realised what she was about to say and hesitated, knowing Daryl's condition was still a raw subject, '...ya brother.' She didn't say that she'd slept with the Governor willingly but then he'd got bored with her when he'd got another eager bed-partner and locked her up. She'd been so humiliated and scared but she planned to keep that little secret from the rest of the group. Philip had obviously given orders for them not to treat her like the other prisoners in general – probably because he still saw her as his but still, they had slapped her around a little. Like she was a favourite toy he'd got bored with but put away carefully in case he wanted to play with her later. Merle hadn't even known she was there – had never seen her. She wondered why he was worrying about that now when he'd never asked her before during their other liasions in secret. He didn't tell her that the nightmare – was it really a nightmare when he'd enjoyed it so much? – had put him in mind of when she'd been a prisoner. What she had endured – still she hadn't seemed in that bad shape when they'd rescued her – only a little bruised and battered, dirty and under-fed. But still in much better condition than his brother.

'Good.' He kissed her while she wound her arms around his neck. She would take care of his little 'problem', he knew and he'd hold her for a bit before making excuses. He didn't really do the cuddling thing afterwards and it was true when he told her that he had to get back to Daryl. No, he only cuddled his baby brother but only because he was still so fragile, he thought ironically to himself. He couldn't let his Daryl wake up on his own – he'd be scared and panic. Andrea smiled an nodded. She was a good girl – smart too - she understood and she cared about Daryl as well. Everybody did. Not many people could resist his sweet, tough, hardass, vulnerable baby brother once they got to know him.

Besides, she didn't want the others to find him in her tent either.

As he made his way back to the tent, he tried to remember how much of the dream had actually happened. The bottle still had some liquor in it – they probably hadn't spilled any. Had he wrestled Daryl to the floor – probably. But the rest? Had Daryl really kissed him? Because he knew sure as hell that he hadn't – wouldn't have made the first move.

It was a haze and fuzzy in his mind and he couldn't ask his brother. Probably Daryl didn't even remember.

He snuck back into their tent, they each had their own sleeping bag. As soon as he lay down, he scooted over to where Daryl was muttering in his sleep to put his arms around him so that he'd be holding him when he woke up. Making him feel safe. He was wondering again at his and Andrea's luck – he knew that one day he'd be caught sneaking out of Andrea's tent when he couldn't say that he'd just gone to take a piss.