AN: So, a couple of things. One, do you like my new cover? LOL I made that last night when I couldn't sleep. It's not great, but it's pretty decent for someone like me who has no skills.
On another note, this is a Merlandrea? Andrerle? (I don't know that this ship even exists…frankly I wouldn't sail it anywhere else, and I really didn't mean to sail it in Sweet Junction, but things happen…) chapter. I just thought I'd give you a heads up. More of our favorite couple in the next chapter, though, don't worry. From time to time, though, we will be getting glimpses into the lives of others who live in our fair town.
I hope you enjoy. Don't be too harsh. This is my first time writing Merle (and I know that my Merle is different than many of the other Merles that I've read elsewhere) so I'm working on getting a feel for him.
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Merle got up after lying there for a while with the pillow over his head. His little brother had finally shut the fuck up and disappeared and Merle didn't really care where the hell he'd gone. He hoped he stayed wherever the hell it was instead of bringing his bitching back to the apartment.
He got out of bed and shucked his clothes, tossing them into the pile in the corner of the room where all the dirty clothes were piled and waiting for Andrea to load them up and take them to the laundry mat. He made his way into the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower.
The stupid ass shower here took a day and a half to get warm enough that it didn't make your dick hide for a week, so he went about his other business while it was warming up. Merle washed his face with cold water in the sink. His head felt like shit and his brother's temper tantrum from the morning didn't exactly help matters. He looked into the mirror and groaned at his bloodshot eyes.
He knew he drank too much, and last night he'd surely outdone himself, but he didn't need Daryl riding his ass about shit. He'd taken care of the little shit when he didn't have anyone else to take care of him and Daryl should be damn thankful for that. Merle couldn't find his toothbrush. He knew it should be there, but it wasn't. He couldn't find Andrea's either. He didn't know what the hell the bitch had done with the toothbrushes, and his mouth tasted like a cow had dropped by and taken a shit in it while he was sleeping.
Without his toothbrush, he left to simply swish some of the mouthwash around his mouth to help with the sour taste. Then he finally crawled into the shower and let the piss warm water run over him.
Daryl had no damn right saying he was like his old man. Merle Dixon was a lot of damn things, but he weren't nothing like his old man had been. Hell, Daryl acted like he was fucking authority on the asshole and he'd barely known him. He sure as shit hadn't seen some of the man's shining moments.
No, by the time Daryl's shiny white ass came bouncing into the world, their old man had mellowed the hell out to some degree. He'd also started to disappear regularly and for long periods of time, which was far better than having him around. Their mama was a hell of a peach too when it came to Daryl. He'd never even seen hide nor hair of the woman that raised Merle. Woman could damn near be a she devil on a good day.
Daryl didn't know shit about what life had really been like. He was the precious baby boy in the household. Their mama had seen him as some kind of late in life miracle child or some shit like that. Little Daryl the delicate one. That was probably why Daryl had the tendency to be the damn pansy ass that he was.
Merle shampood his hair with whatever fruity shit that Andrea had put in the shower for them all to use. She wanted the whole damn household smelling like a bunch of freshly douched pussies, that's at the hell that he could figure. Still, her fruity ass shampoo was what the hell was there, so Merle used it, taking his time and halfway washing himself with the suds leftover while he rinsed his hair.
He didn't deny that Daryl had seen one or two displays of their old man's charm and had gotten caught in the middle of shit a time or two to get his ass whooped, but there was always someone there to step in the middle and get the old bastard's attention away from the boy. Merle had popped his old man a few good rounds to get him off of Daryl and his mama had more than once stepped in to take the licks the old man originally meant for his brother. Daryl didn't remember that shit though, or didn't remember it clearly. He remembered the licks the old man got in, but he never seemed to know about the ones he handed out to them instead.
Merle fumbled around in the shower looking for the rag. There wasn't one and he debated if he was going to get out and find one or not. There was the stupid puffy thing that Andrea kept trying to get him to use. He held the bar of soap in his hand for a minute and decided that he wasn't putting his fucking manhood on the line even long enough to get through the one shower. He lathered up the bar of soap in his hands and set about washing himself that way. No one would know but him, but Merle Dixon was not using the damn purple puffy thing.
Merle doubted that Daryl even really fucking remembered when their old man had killed their mama. Merle didn't remember how old he'd been, so he sure as fuck didn't remember how old Daryl had been, but he'd been young enough he surely didn't have hair on his balls. Old man had come home stark raving mad about some shit or another and drunk as fuck.
Merle knew Daryl didn't know too many of the damn details because he'd been the one to get the little fuck out of the house before the old man killed him too. He'd taken Daryl out the house…couldn't really remember the details well. Promised him a fucking cheeseburger or some shit like that. Drove the little fucker around nearly all night and crashed at a cousin's house. The police had found them there…called every damn Dixon in the area and there were a lot of Dixon's. They might not marry their women, but if they knocked them up they at least gave their names to the little assholes they spawned.
And when the police had finally found them, Merle had taken Daryl up to the hospital. And that's how they found out the fucker had really done it that time. He'd beat their mama plenty of times before and the woman was tough as nails because she'd always come through it. She'd usually just pass the beating down to Merle if it was bad enough, taking out her aggression at the old man on her oldest son. But that time she didn't pull through it. And Merle had ended up with his little brother.
Technically they were supposed to be under the custody of some jackass cousin they'd had at the time. Merle had damn near been taking care of himself his whole fucking life though so he weren't about to ball up and take no orders from some worthless cuss just because the police thought it was a good damn idea. And that was when they first hit the road, putting as many miles between them and their old, fucked up life as possible.
Merle turned off the water and stood there a minute drip drying. Half the damn time when he got out the shower there were no fucking towels. He was already preparing himself for the annoying race to the closet to get one, after which someone would bitch about the floor being wet, when he stuck his arm out the shower curtain and there was a dry towel hanging on the rod there. He smiled to himself. Might not be such a bad fucking day after all.
He buried his face in the towel first. It was clean and smelled good. It was about the only damn thing that smelled good around here. Then he unfolded the towel and went to work drying off.
Yeah, Daryl could bitch at him at all he wanted, but he knew who had fucking made sure the kid didn't die, and it had been him. He might not have been no damn blue ribbon parent or nothing, but he didn't ask to have to help raise his fucking brother. That shit had gotten thrown in his lap and he did it because he wasn't going to be just another fucker that walked out on life.
No one had given a shit about either of them when they'd up and disappeared. Not even the damn police seemed to notice they were living just under the radar. There wasn't a high school diploma between them, though later in life they'd both gotten their fucking G. and been done with that shit. Employers liked that and when Merle found out you could take a test for that shit he couldn't figure out why a single person still went to school. Just give him the stupid ass test anyway. He and Daryl both had always been a lot better at taking tests like that than they'd been at sitting in cramped up classrooms full of jackasses and trying to learn some useless shit.
Yep…no one had given a shit about them, but they'd done alright. They were alive and they ate most fucking days.
Though Merle had to admit that he was starving. His stupid ass little brother's pretty princess bitch fest this morning had kept him from eating any damn breakfast and right now he'd eat a fucking dog if he could get his hands on one. He could still smell that shit too, whatever the hell his selfish prick of a brother had made to eat, hanging in the air.
Merle hated to cook. It had been of the first things that he'd taught Daryl to do…or rather that he'd urged Daryl to learn to do. He'd put the kid up next to the stove in their first place, given him a pan and some eggs, and let him play with the shit until he figured out how the hell to cook an egg just about any way you damn well wanted to eat one. From there the boy had slowly branched out. Daryl weren't no four star cook, but he could make shit if he wanted to.
Merle stepped out of the bathroom with the towel around him and his stomach growled. He padded into the kitchen to see if Daryl had left anything behind. Andrea was standing in the kitchen, at the stove, cooking. The smell wasn't coming from whatever Daryl had cooked after all.
"Go get dressed," she said, without looking up from what she was doing. "Breakfast will be ready by the time you get your ass covered."
"The hell ya cookin'?" Merle asked.
"Pancakes, sausage, and scrambled eggs," Andrea said. "That alright with you or did you have something else in mind?"
Merle noted the sarcasm in her voice. Beggars can't be choosers and he was fine with that for breakfast, though he wasn't sure he'd expected to see her standing there.
"Where tha fuck ya been?" He asked.
"Go put your fucking clothes on Merle and finish drying off. Your dripping all over the damn floor," Andrea said.
Merle rolled his eyes and went to the bedroom to get dressed. Every single damn person around him must be riding the crimson wave right now because every damn where he turned all he got was attitude and lip from people that didn't have no damn reason to be dishing it out to him. So he got fucking plowed the night before…so what? He hadn't landed in jail which means he hadn't hurt a single damn person besides himself.
"Fuck's got ya so damn sunny today?" Merle growled at Andrea as he came back into the kitchen and sat down at the card table. Andrea put a plate down in front of him and crossed the kitchen in silence, fishing a glass out of one of the cabinets and peeking into the other.
"Tell me you did not drink all that fucking alcohol last night, Merle," Andrea said, slamming the cabinet and turning around. She went to the refrigerator and poured a glass of orange juice, sitting the glass and the carton on the table in front of Merle before she pulled out a chair and took her own place at the table.
"Daryl poured all the shit out. He's been a holy fucking nightmare today," Merle said, starting to eat the food.
"Good," Andrea said, resting her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table, watching Merle eat. "We don't need that shit in the house no way. He and I can both go dry and you sure as shit need to."
"What the fuck has gotten into ya two?" Merle asked. "Ya got some fuckin' problem ya need ta squawk about too?"
Andrea sighed.
"Would it make any damn difference, Merle? You need to stop fucking drinking. That's the only damn problem I've got," Andrea said. "I'm sick of dragging your ass home from the Watering Hole and taking care of you when you're half passed out and puking your guts out. It's a hell of a lifestyle and it's one that I'm gettin' pretty damn tired of."
"Fuck you then," Merle said. "Ain't nobody asked ya ta stay ya pampered ass here nor ta take care a' me. I do fuckin' fine on my own."
Andrea chuckled.
"Yes you do, Merle. You do just great, all on your own. Why last night, you made it home like a champ…except…wait…you weren't doing shit on your own! Four nights ago, I think it was, well you were almost fucking amazing on your own. If I hadn't spent half the fucking night on the bathtub rolling you over every time you decided to roll back on your back, I can tell you what the hell you'd have done on your own…you'd have drowned in your own fucking vomit…all by yourself…Yep, you've got this shit figured out," Andrea said.
Merle continued to eat his breakfast in silence now, eyeing Andrea as he ate. He couldn't believe she had the gall to sit here and run her fucking mouth at him like that. He had to tolerate that shit from Daryl because Daryl was his little brother, but he wasn't letting some bitch run her mouth at him. He'd put up with his mother because he had to, but she was dead and in the ground now and he didn't owe it to another damn woman to listen to her bitching.
"Ya so damn unhappy, get'cha fuckin' ass out," Merle said. "I don't fuckin' need ya 'round here barkin' at me an' I ain't 'bout ta put up with ya fuckin' bitchin'."
Andrea nodded a little, not even moving so much as to take her face away from her hand. She sighed.
"Is it that important to you, Merle? The drinking? Does it mean so much to you that you just can't live without it? Or maybe, you could try something a little different…maybe you could try and figure out why it is that you're drinking. What is it that makes you want to pick up that bottle and get so damn drunk that you don't even know who the hell you are or what the fuck you're doing? Maybe instead of drinking you could work on taking those problems out of your life. You know, instead of just trying to drown them. Eventually, Merle, there's not going to be someone there to save your ass. Not me, not Daryl, no one," Andrea said.
"Fuck you," Merle spat. He thought about leaving the table, but he wasn't done eating and he wanted the rest of the fucking food even if it came with her little side show of so called inspirational speaking.
"I'd love for you to," she said, smiling a little. "Except that you have a tendency not to be able to when you've spent too much time drinking. That's what Dixons do, right? They boast about their sexual abilities and then drink them away?"
"Damn it! Can't you shut your fuckin' face?" Merle said.
"You wouldn't get so angry about it if part of you didn't know I was telling the truth," Andrea said. She stood up. "I've got to go out, Merle. I've got some errands to run and I've got to go and pick up my uniforms for the new job I've got…the one you don't even know about because you were too drunk for me to tell you about it…and I've got to let them do a tour and show me what I'll be doing there. I'm going to pick up something for dinner on the way home, so you don't need to worry about that."
Merle watched her as she walked over to the place behind the door where she typically kicked off her shoes. She wrestled her feet into the well-worn and dirty sneakers that were over there. He knew what she was doing too, waving her ass all up in the air and making sure he saw it. She was being a bitch and trying to get him to ignore it by wiggling her ass at him.
"Daryl's with Carol doing whatever it is the two of them do," Andrea said. "Said something about going to buy a mattress. There's no telling when they'll be back. While we're out, might do you some good to do some thinking…you know, about what I said."
Andrea opened the door.
"Andrea," Merle called at her. She stopped, her hand on her keys she was about to pluck from the cup hook.
"What, Merle?" She asked, already rolling her eyes.
"I meant what I said," Merle said, "I don't give a damn if ya stay or ya go, so ya so damn miserable don't let tha fuckin' door hit'cha in the ass, princess."
Merle knew as soon as he heard the words leave his own mouth that he didn't mean it. He really didn't want her to leave, but what was driving him crazy worse than anything else was that he didn't know why he gave a damn if she left or not. She weren't the first fucking blue eyed, bottle blonde whore to track across his path before, not by a long shot.
Andrea smiled a little and finished removing her keys from the cup hook. She looked at them in her hand for a minute before looking back at him.
"I heard you, Merle," Andrea said. "Just be careful what you wish for. One of these days you're going to say that for the last time."
She stepped out the door and pulled it shut behind her. Merle stayed where he was a minute and then drained the last of the orange juice out of his glass. He got up and put the juice back in the refrigerator and put his plate on the counter for her to wash when she got back from whatever new job it was that she'd picked up somewhere, probably waiting tables or serving shots somewhere.
Merle had the day off work and not a damn thing to do. He fumbled around in the cookie jar on the counter and found a pack of cigarettes his brother stashed there. He took one out and lit it, using his empty juice glass as an ashtray. There wasn't a damn thing to do in this town and Merle knew it. Yet somehow his brother and Andrea both had found the drive to wake up this morning, bitch him out, and go out and find something to fucking do in Sweet Junction.
Merle considered, for a moment, going down to the Watering Hole and really giving them something to bitch about, but he honestly felt like shit still and he didn't feel like drinking. It was starting to wear on his nerves that both of them had crawled his ass for the night before, and he wished to fuck he could figure out what the hell to do to make the shit stop bothering him.
He could drink it away, that was a temporary fix, but he felt like they'd be right back at him like some damn yapping dogs when he sobered up again. Their fucking mouths had ruined his entire fucking day off. Now he didn't know what the hell to do with himself.
Merle decided, after a little while, that he wasn't staying inside any longer though. He might not go down to the Watering Hole, but he was at least going to walk around or something. He was getting the hell out of the little piece of shit apartment that they fucking called home one way or the other. He supposed that once he was out there walking around something would come to him. He'd think about what they said, that much was fine, but he wasn't going to admit to a single fucking one of them that he'd done that shit. He wasn't about this self-contemplation shit and he didn't have any fucking problems other than their bullshit attitudes.
He pulled his shoes on, somewhat satisfied with himself, grabbed the remainder of the pack of cigarettes that his brother had squirreled away, and stepped out of the apartment, going exploring to see what the grand town of Sweet Junction had to offer.