AN: Here's a little update for you.
You're all cracking me up about Merle. Maybe our eldest Dixon can get his act together sometime in the future? We can only hope for the best for our boy because he just isn't doing so swift right now.
I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
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Daryl had a pretty good feeling it was going to be one long ass evening when he went to Merle's workplace and found out from Tyreese that Merle never showed up for work. He'd made some half ass apologies to the man, glad that he was as easy going as he was and not likely to fire Merle that shit like someone else might have, and then he tried to decide what to do.
Andrea wasn't working at the Watering Hole that night. He'd already checked and knew that she was pushing Korean food at the good people of Sweet Junction instead of aiding their intoxication. He could, then, possibly find Merle at the bar or find him at his apartment. Daryl decided to try the apartment first.
Daryl didn't bother knocking. He fished the extra key out of his pocket that he had to the place and let himself inside. Immediately he noticed that the table was on its side on the floor, but other than that the apartment seemed more or less intact. Merle was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs holding a bottle that was a little less than half full and Daryl wanted to pull his hair out at the sight.
"Ain't this a lovely fuckin' mess," Daryl growled, stepping inside and shutting the door. The last damn thing he really wanted was to deal with his brother drunk. Merle hadn't drank in a while, and Daryl had kind of liked it that way. He could be a surly asshole all on his own and he didn't need the aid of the amber liquid.
Merle chuckled at Daryl. It was the slurred and sleepy chuckle that let Daryl know that Merle had likely been saturating his remaining brain cells for most of the day while the rest of the world had been at work trying to earn a buck.
"Fuck ya want, Derlina?" Merle slurred.
"What the hell ya doin', Merle?" Daryl asked, making a wide circle and sitting on the arm of the couch looking at his brother. "Ya gone an' got fucked up? I reckon this is over Andrea. Ya ain't even gone ta work today."
"Fuck Andrea," Merle responded.
Daryl clenched his jaw. It was really all he could do at the moment not to cross the room, take the bottle out of his older brother's hand, and smash him over the head with it. Daryl would, however, only let himself imagine the action instead of going through with it.
"Why don't'cha just fuckin' say ya sorry 'bout whatever ya was fightin' 'bout? Stop tellin' her ya fuckin' hate her an' stop tellin' her ta get the fuck outta ya life. From where I sit I reckon she's 'bout been the best thing ta happen ta ya sorry ass," Daryl said.
"Who the fuck are you now, brothah?" Merle asked, a sneer crossing his face. "The motherfuckin' love doctor? Just 'cause ya pussed out an' found ya some lil' dolly ta play house with ya? I seen all the fuckin' shit ya doin' with that bitch. Just handed ya fuckin' balls right over, didn't'cha? Didn't even put up no fight."
Now it was Daryl's turn to chuckle, though the chuckle that escaped him was one that he let out more to keep from killing his alcohol sodden brother than a genuine laugh.
"Ya know what the fuck I know, Merle? I know that I got me a woman that I fuckin' love…" Daryl said. He paused for a minute and took in the expression that spread across Merle's face. Daryl nodded his head. "That's right…I fuckin' love her, an' I got the balls ta say it, so I reckon I ain't handed 'em over as ya say. An' she's there every fuckin' mornin' I wake up, an' she's there every fuckin' night I go ta bed. Ain't no damn rock star lifestyle, but it's a helluva lot better than some a' the shit I've had in my life. What you got, Merle? 'Cause right now ya girl's sleepin' on my couch."
"Ain't got no damn girl," Merle said, tipping the bottle up and taking a mouthful before swallowing loudly and hissing at the burning contents.
"That's right," Daryl said. "Ya ain't. Ain't got jack shit 'cause ya too damn busy thinkin' it makes ya some kinda fuckin' hero ta say ya don't give one hot damn 'bout nobody. Fuck you, Merle. If ya didn't fuckin' care ya wouldn't be fuckin' sauced right now. Ya quit this shit an' now ya right back on that fuckin' bottle like a baby on a teat 'cause Andrea got sick a' ya shit."
"Don't'cha get mouthy an' fuckin' self-righteous with me, Daryl," Merle said, standing up. "Andrea left 'cause she wanted ta fuckin' leave. Ain't beggin' no damn whore to stick around."
Daryl stood up from his spot and stepped back a few paces. He had no doubt that if anything in this conversation was going to lead to blows he'd have no problem taking Merle down. Sometimes in the past Merle had gotten the best of him, but he was sober and that meant he certainly had the upper had at the moment no matter what other circumstances were considered.
"Ya know she ain't no damn whore, Merle. She's got her shit…an' she fuckin' carries her shit too…just like the rest a' us, but Andrea ain't no damn whore an' she ain't done ya wrong not once since I knowed her. Reckon a' damn asshole like yaself can't ask for too damn much more," Daryl said. He paused and side stepped away from Merle to put more distance between them. He wasn't worried about a fight but that didn't mean he wanted one either. "'Sides, if ya believed a damn thing ya ever fuckin' said ya wouldn't have ta drink that shit just ta make ya own words go down."
"Where ya runnin' too, Daryl?" Merle asked. He tottered to the side and put his hand on the wall and Daryl couldn't help but wince at the thought that he couldn't even keep upright on his own damn feet without assistance, but still his mouth worked fine. That's always how it was with Merle and that was the reason he got in so many damn bad situations in his life. Nothing seemed to ever stop his mouth besides someone's fist.
"Don't wanna fight with ya, Merle," Daryl said, shaking his head at his brother. "Just ain't got no damn interest in it."
Daryl knew as soon as Merle clenched his jaw the way he did that Merle was about to lash out at him. No matter how many times in his life he'd seen it happen, though, he never knew quite how to be ready to fend off an attack.
"Ya like a fuckin' ostrich boy, with ya head stuck in the damn sand," Merle said. "What'cha think ya got any damn way? Ya lil' woman's fuckin' 'round on ya right in front a' ya damn face an' ya don't even know it. Got'cha eatin' out her fuckin' hand 'cause she tells she's knocked up an' ya don't even know if she really fuckin' is or if it's even ya damn kid. Prob'ly belongs ta that police fella she was fuckin'…or that fella she's fuckin' right under ya damn nose…but'cha always wanted ya pot a gold ta piss in. Damn whore's the best ya gonna get Daryl…best I'ma fuckin' get too 'cause we ain't worth more than that," Merle spat. He drank out of his bottle and stepped closer to Daryl. "Least I'm smart enough ta realize that bein' without the bitch is better than bowin' my ass down an' lettin' some whore think she's got me by the balls…but you done got 'em both now…turn ya damn back on ya own brothah?"
Daryl really didn't mean to punch Merle in the nose, not entirely. He'd really only thought it would be a fleeting mental image like breaking the bottle over his head, but when Merle landed hard on his back on the floor and Daryl felt the pain shoot through his knuckles, he was almost surprised to see his brother was still moving.
Merle rolled around on the floor, his hand pressed over his nose. When he rose up enough, Daryl could tell that he obviously wasn't going to suffer anything too severe from the punch, but he thought he'd possibly broken his nose and in the moment he thought it was good enough for Merle.
"Fuck ya do that for?" Merle growled.
Daryl shook his head at his brother and walked close enough to him that he could see him but not close enough that Merle could retaliate. He'd get off the floor eventually, but it wouldn't be fast enough for Daryl not to side step away from him.
"Serves ya fuckin' right!" Daryl spat at him. "Damn it! Ya too big a damn pussy ta fix ya own fuckin' life that's one damn thing but'cha stay the fuck outta mine if ya can't act like ya the damn sense God gave mud. Ya runnin' fuckin' scared a' somethin' an' ya gon' be damn sorry when someone that ain't as big a pussy as you are steps in an' gets it. I ain't sorry for ya, Merle! Ya wanna lay in the dirt feelin' sorry for yaself then do it. I'm done with this shit!"
Daryl didn't wait for Merle to respond. His blood was pumping to a point that he felt like if he heard Merle's voice even another minute he was likely to kill him. Daryl turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him and leaving his brother on the floor with his bloody nose and his spilled bottle of liquid comfort.
Daryl couldn't get the anger he felt under control. He could almost feel it coursing through him like liquid fire and he didn't know how to outrun it. Merle's words, whether he believed them or not, always got to him and he wished, for just a moment, that he had the ability to go back and unhear everything he'd ever heard come out of Merle's mouth.
As Daryl pulled in the driveway he realized he was shaking and he felt too angry to go inside. He was mad at Merle. He was mad at everything that had ever happened to make Merle like he was. He was angry at the fact that his brother had gone back to drinking and that life had taught him that he'd do better to blaze the road in front of him lighting every damn thing on fire as he came to it so he wouldn't feel sad when it was gone. He wouldn't feel like it had been taken away from him because he'd been the one to torch it.
And Daryl was furious with Merle for not ever trying to overcome one damn thing in his sorry life. He was mad that Merle would rather continue living like they'd always fucking lived then just put one sorry ass foot in front of the other and see if he couldn't walk his way right out of his personal hell.
But more than anything at the moment he was pissed at the fact that Merle knew his damn buttons and had no shame in pushing them. He'd always done that…go straight for the throat. His motto wasn't so much if you can't beat 'em, join 'em as it was if you don't know if you can join 'em better to bring 'em down to your level.
Daryl got out the truck and stormed up the driveway. He wished for just a little while that he would walk through the door and find the whole damn house empty. He didn't want to answer questions and he didn't want to talk about the fact that he had blood on his hand he was pretty sure came from his brother's broken nose. He just wanted to take a shower and forget everything that Merle spat at him like the drunken asshole he was. He wanted to go to sleep and start the next day without even feeling like he'd been through this one.
Except when he opened the door he wasn't alone. Andrea and Carol were sitting on the couch talking and Lincoln came running to him as soon as he opened the door. In frustration, Daryl slid the dog out of his way with his foot and started toward the bedroom, hoping that if he moved quickly enough he could avoid any question about the interaction that had taken place.
He stomped into the bedroom and stripped off his clothes as he walked, nearly bringing himself to the ground in his furious efforts to get his shoes and pants off without even stopping his walk toward the bathroom. He turned the shower on and finished stripping out of his clothes just as Carol stepped into the doorway.
"What happened? Did you talk to Merle?" She asked.
"Don't wanna fuckin' talk about it right now," Daryl spat.
Carol's hand touched on the back of his shoulder and he didn't turn around to look at her for the moment. He held his hands up to indicate his frustration.
"What happened? Daryl, you're bleeding…" Carol said.
"Ain't my blood an' I said I don't wanna talk about it so just take ya ass back in there with Andrea," Daryl said.
"Where is he?" Carol asked. "Is everything alright?"
Daryl turned around.
"Damn it, Carol Ann!" Daryl spat. "I wanta take a fuckin' shower an' I don't wanta talk about fuckin' Merle! I just need some fuckin' space without ya breathin' down my neck for a few minutes! Take ya ass back in there with Andrea!"
Daryl put his hand on her chest and backed her out the bathroom closing the door in her face. He didn't need to talk about this right this minute. He didn't even know what the hell he'd say if he tried to talk about it. All he needed was a few damn minutes to get his shit together and to calm down without having to feel like he was caught up in a never ending game of twenty questions.
Daryl got under the spray of the water and just stood there. He didn't know how long he stood there, really. He stayed long enough that there wasn't hot water left when he finally got out, shivering, and that had never happened before.
Daryl towel dried off. He was calmer now than he had been, but he still didn't know what to do about his brother. He hadn't meant to break his nose, and he certainly hadn't meant for his own knuckles to pay the price, but sometimes that was the only damn way that you could get anything through to Merle. It was like the only language that the asshole really spoke.
Daryl stood there in the bathroom, naked, staring at himself in the mirror. The thing he hated most about Merle's situation was that he knew Merle…he knew why Merle felt the way that he did about things…but he didn't know how to help Merle get over that shit.
He didn't even really know if he was over that shit or if he was just playing some kind of game like Merle suggested. Maybe he wasn't good enough for anything that he thought he wanted out of life. Maybe he wasn't really designed for it. Maybe it would all blow up in his face if the bomb wasn't already ticking…but even if it was all a game it was one that he was enjoying playing for the moment.
He'd rather play the game for a while than go ahead and flip the board and call it done. He couldn't stop the end of the game from coming if it was coming, but he could at least take is turns until it was done.
Daryl knew that Merle was full of shit. He'd always been full of shit. His mouth made you want to kill him. It made you want to take a fucking Louisville Slugger to his skull and call it a day. But that's all it was…that's all it had ever been. It was just Merle running his fucking mouth. If he meant a word of it Daryl would have been pretty damn surprised.
And now Daryl knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Merle had gone and done something he'd sworn his entire life he'd never do. Merle gave a damn about Andrea.
It wasn't poetic and they sure as shit weren't printing it up on Valentine's Day cards…but if Dixons had their own Valentine's Day cards that would pretty much be what every damn one of them would say. I give a damn about you.
So Merle had done the only damn thing that Merle knew to do in the situation. He'd put his foot through his own damn cake because he terrified that somehow someone was going to take it away from him…he thought he was saving his ass the heartache, but what he didn't realize was that he'd still lost the cake. Whether by his own hands or by someone else's, the result was the same.
Except Andrea wasn't a cake and she wasn't a toy. Just because he threw her out didn't mean she was going to go away and it didn't mean that no one was going to ever pick her up again. Merle couldn't erase her just because he thought he didn't deserve her, no matter what he said, and Daryl knew it was going to drive Merle crazy if he had to see the only woman he'd ever known him to give a damn about in the arms of a man who knew how to admit that he was fine with being with Andrea and admitting it to anyone who cared to ask.
Daryl didn't know, though, what to say or do to make Merle realize that he was only hurting himself. He couldn't exactly ask Hershel to talk to him. Merle didn't listen any better than a brick wall. It would have been just as effective to try to have a conversation about love and relationships with Lincoln.
He was going to have to let Merle find out for himself what the hell was going on, and he was just going to have to hope that the stupid fucker didn't drink himself into a coma or land his sorry ass in prison for some stupid damn thing.
For the first time in his life, Daryl realized that it just had to be that the Dixon boys had to fly solo. He wouldn't turn his back on his brother, not like Merle had suggested he would, but he had to give Merle the room to find out he could stand on his own fucking feet. And he had to let him fall down and bust his ass over this one.
Daryl knew what it had felt like to him when he'd lost Carol. He knew that shit hurt and it felt like you weren't going to be whole again, but he'd found his balls and he'd gotten up and solved his problem. He only hoped that Merle could find his pair and do the same, but Daryl didn't imagine that shit was happening tonight.
With a deep sigh Daryl opened the bathroom door and stepped into the darkened bedroom, dressing with only the bathroom light as a guide.
He felt heavy and tired. He felt old and all he wanted to do was sink into bed and bury his face in Carol's neck and sleep. He wanted to forget about Merle…he wanted to forget about all the old damn feelings that seeing Merle like he was drudged up…he wanted to forget about the shit show that had been his life so far…and he wanted to forget about the things that Merle had said. He wanted to forget all of it and sleep.
But when Daryl pulled the cover back on the bed, Carol wasn't there.
And it washed over him. He'd been an asshole. He hadn't really meant to be an asshole, but he'd been one alright.
He'd yelled at her and he'd taken his anger out on her. He'd pushed her and he'd closed the door in his face. He'd taken out his frustration at Merle and every damn thing that meant on her…and he felt like an asshole.
The thing about feeling like an asshole, he thought as he stood looking at the empty bed, was that when he felt like an asshole…when it really dawned on him that the way he had acted constituted such poor behavior…it typically meant that he'd really gone all out.
Daryl squeezed at his temples and sighed in the darkness. He didn't bother looking at the clock because the last damn thing he cared about at this point was the time. He hadn't eaten dinner, he hadn't even unwound after work, nothing. Nothing about this day had gone at all like it was supposed to go.
It was probably too damn early to go to sleep, but the house was dark. Daryl walked through the house and switched the light on in the dining room so it would bathe the front part of the house in enough light for him to be able to see anything.
One glance at the couch told him that the women he was occupying a house with had decided that early or not they were going to bed. And if Daryl didn't feel like a first class asshole, and if he hadn't acted like he had, he would have laughed at the sight in front of him.
Carol and Andrea were lying on the couch. Either they were both asleep or they were pretending to be. Each had a head at one end of the couch and their bodies formed a pretzel like knot that was only visible in places poking out from under the blanket they had thrown over them. On top of them both, stretched out, like the fucking king of the mountain was Lincoln, and the furry little shit didn't even lift his head when Daryl bathed the area in light.
Daryl sighed.
He walked over to Carol's side of the couch and gently pushed at her shoulder, not entirely sure that he believed she was sleeping.
"Carol, get up, let's go ta bed," Daryl said. There was no response from Carol so he pushed at her shoulder and repeated his request.
"No," Carol said finally, her voice low. "I'm fine. You go to bed."
Daryl sighed. He deserved it and he knew it. He just wished, for just this once, that he could take some kind of rain check on this shit. He wished that he could just get her to say she wouldn't be pissed until morning and then they could work this shit out.
"Carol," he said, "let's go ta bed, please? Ya ain't fuckin' comfortable piled up here with Andrea."
"Turns out Andrea doesn't need a whole lot of space," Carol said, not moving. Daryl wasn't sure if she actually could move right now.
"Carol, I'm sorry, OK? I was a fuckin' asshole an' ya got all the right in the world ta be pissed at me. I'll sleep on the fuckin' floor if it makes ya happy just please bring ya ass ta bed an' let's talk about this shit tomorrow," Daryl said.
"Go to bed, Daryl," Carol said. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, that's fine. Go to bed. I'm giving you the space of the whole bed for the night. Enjoy."
Daryl growled a little.
"Carol Ann ya get'cha ass off this couch an' go get in the damn bed or I swear ta ya I'm movin' ya myself," Daryl said. He was fine if she wanted to be pissed at him. Hell, he deserved it. He'd even invite her to be pissed at him, but he'd dealt with Merle's ass today and that was about all the catty childish shit he could handle in a twenty four hour period.
"Goodnight, Daryl," Carol said.
Daryl flung the cover back and, as quick as he could, Lincoln jumped ship, running down Andrea's face in the process. The women somewhat came apart, though both of them had taken obviously some sort of pact to remain as tightly tangled as possible and make anything Daryl attempted as difficult as they could.
Daryl really didn't feel like he knew a lot about women, but the one damn thing he'd have bet his nuts on was true was the fact they had some kind of pact to band together in shit that was punishable by death if they didn't honor it.
Daryl dug his hands down between what he hoped was Carol's body and the couch and hissed at the friction on his already tender knuckles. He lifted her up with the hope that gravity would eventually separate whatever belonged to Andrea from whatever belonged to Carol in the huge body pretzel that they had made.
Admittedly, he picked Carol up wrong and almost dropped her. She screamed out, causing the dog to bark and Andrea to break her silence on the matter.
"Leave her alone!" Andrea yelled at him.
"Shut the fuck up!" Daryl spat back. "Just go ya ass ta sleep. She'll be fuckin' fine if she stops bein' as hardheaded as a damn mule an' gets her ass in bed. If she's gonna act like she's five, though, then I'ma have ta treat her like she's five an' put her there."
Daryl put Carol's feet on the ground only long enough to shift her quickly and pick her up in a manner that he felt confident he could get her down the hall in.
"Put me down," she growled, fighting against him.
"Ya fight me an' I'ma drop ya an' I don't wanta drop ya," Daryl said. He walked by the light switch to the dining room and hit it with his shoulder, slightly ramming her feet into the wall and bathing Andrea in darkness whether she was ready to sleep or not.
Daryl deposited Carol on the bed and pushed her down with his hand, leaning close to her.
"Go ta sleep," he said, his face almost touching hers. She looked mad enough to spit. "I said I was an asshole and I swear ta ya I'm sorry an' we gon' talk about it an' I'ma do whatever fuckin' apologizin's gonna make ya happy, but I ain't doin' no more tonight. It's been one long ass fuckin' day an' I just wanta go ta sleep. Ya need ta sleep an' so do I, so just call it a fuckin' truce 'til mornin'. Ya think ya can handle that shit? For me?"
Carol continued to look at him like she might tear his nose off his face if given the chance. He could feel that she was breathing hard from where his hand was pressed against her chest. After a moment, though, she sighed and didn't look as angry as much as she looked hurt. He honestly preferred angry, but there wasn't much he felt like he could do about either until he at least closed his eyes for a bit.
"Stop pushing me," Carol said, her voice softer than it had been earlier.
Daryl lifted his hand off her chest.
"Sorry," he said. She rubbed her chest. He didn't know if she'd try to get up, but she grabbed her pillow and yanked it under her head. Daryl almost laughed at the very nature of her movements. He wrestled the cover out from under her and pulled it up over her. He went around and got in on his side of the bed after he flipped the bathroom light off.
"Can I touch ya or that off limits?" He asked.
Carol sighed.
"We're talking about this in the morning," she said.
Daryl sighed.
"I promise, we're talkin' 'bout this shit in the mornin'," he said. He felt defeated and was about to give up regardless. He sighed again and pulled his pillow under his head.
To his surprise, Carol scooted back, inching a little at a time, until she was backed against him, fitting her body against his. He hesitated a moment and then put his arm around her, pulling her tighter against him and snuggling his face near her neck where he could smell her while they slept.
"Just so long as you know we're not done…" Carol said.
Daryl kissed the back of her neck.
"We ain't never gon' be done," Daryl said. "I love ya…"
"I love you too," Carol said. "But I'm still mad."
Daryl chuckled a little.
"Just so long as ya can sleep," he said.
Carol got quiet after a few minutes and Daryl didn't hear any sound from the house. He assumed that everyone was finally settled in for the night. Not a single damn thing had been solved this day, but maybe tomorrow he could make up for being an asshole himself and figure out what the hell to do about his asshole brother who likely had tended his broken nose and passed out some time later on the couch.
Rome wasn't built in a day, though, and Daryl wasn't solving all the problems of the world tonight. Tonight the only thing he had left to do was get some rest for whatever awaited him.