Chapter Fourteen

Five sets of eyes were fixated on him, but all Daryl could register was that Merle was here. Home.

He smiled hard, face lighting up in a way Shane seldom saw as the younger boy realized that everyone in the world he cared about was right here, all in the same room. And things were good. How could they not be, when everyone was home again, and he actually had a home to call his own.

Daryl jumped up out of his seat and nearly stumbled in his rush to reach his big brother, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing hard. It occurred to him that before Shane, Merle was pretty much the only person he'd ever touched in a way that bordered on affectionate, even neutral. The older Dixon wasn't quite as enthusiastic, but he did pat Daryl twice on the back before pushing Daryl roughly away by the shoulder, and making a show of looking him over.

"You been lettin' them dress ya, too?" Merle mocked, frowning at Daryl's ensemble. And it was true; most of what Daryl wore these days had been procured by Rick's mother. The days of fraying shirts and jeans that were more hole than denim were behind him. And his sleeveless flannels, though never forgotten, were reserved for the days he went out hunting. But between the judging look on Merle's face, and his offended tone, Daryl blushed hard.

"S'just clothes," Daryl mumbled, shrugging and trying to seem nonchalant about it.

"The hell it is," Merle growled, and Daryl knew at that moment that any chance for a peaceful, happy reunion had just been squashed. "The fuck you doin' playing house with the goddamn Sheriff?"

"Now, Merle…" Sheriff Grimes tried to mediate. Because yes, of course Rick's dad knew exactly who had just barged through his front door. He was the man who'd put Merle inside to begin with.

It was only a second later that Daryl realized no, this wasn't Merle's home. Not yet and maybe not ever. And that's when things started to go downhill fast.

"What the fuck is this, Daryl? I finally get outta lock up and I hear you let dad get arrested, and now you're shacking up with the asshole who put him away?" Merle snapped. Shane bounced to his feet, looking the angriest of the bunch, and Daryl quickly stepped in front of him, trying to avoid an all-out brawl.

"I didn't let him do nothin'," Daryl tried to defend, but Merle wasn't having it.

"He's your blood, boy. Thought I taught you better than that." And Shane hated most of all how Merle's words had Daryl glancing guiltily at his own feet, like he'd done something wrong. Like he should have protected the man who'd been beating him for years, forcing him to live in perpetual fear.

"He deserved what he got and then some," Shane interrupted, sidestepping Daryl and getting up into the elder Dixon's face.

"And who the fuck are you?" Merle ground out, eyes narrowing.

"Shane fuckin' Walsh, that's who," Shane spat, teeth bared. "Your daddy's an evil son of a bitch and you know it. It's a fuckin' blessing to the world that he's finally behind bars."

"You lettin' your boyfriend fight your battles for you?" Merle mocked, eyes falling back on his baby brother. "Christ, I'm gone for a few months, and all of the sudden you're on your back for any old cock, huh boy? Thought you'd hold out a little longer before lettin' some asshole call you his bitch." Merle spat out the last word, then literally spat in Shane's face.

Daryl was standing to the side, frozen in something between shock and fear. But unfortunately for everyone, Shane wasn't the least bit stuck. He launched at Merle like a predatory cat striking its pray, knocking the larger man to the ground, connecting knuckles with his jaw, and hardly flinching when Merle fought back.

In a flurry of motion, Rick and his father were prying Shane and Merle apart, the Sheriff fighting to get the older man out the door while Rick held his best friend in a mighty bear hug, trying to keep him calm. Neither was having much success.

"No! No, fuck that," Merle was shouting. "He's my fuckin' brother and he's coming with me."

"He ain't goin' nowhere with you, ya stupid fucker!" Shane yelled right back.

"Daryl," Merle said in a tone slightly less harsh, "Daleena, get in the truck, boy. S'time to go."

And then all eyes fell on the younger Dixon once more, and he visibly squirmed.

"Daryl," Merle said again, looking somewhat pained that his younger brother hadn't immediately obeyed. Enough so that when Daryl finally spoke up, he couldn't keep his eyes off the ground.

"Can't go with you," Daryl mumbled. "Dad…he lost custody. The Grimes are my guardians, now. I gotta stay."

It was a weak argument at best. And Shane loathed how Daryl played it off like he had to be here, rather than wanted to. But he figured that was something the two of them could work out in private, once Merle was gone for good.

Merle shook off the Sheriff's hands roughly, staring at Daryl like the boy had slapped him in the face.

Abruptly, he seemed to collect himself. "Yeah. We'll see about that."

Merle spat to the side, shot one last hateful glare in Shane's direction, then spun on his heel and was out the door. Nobody spoke, not until the rumbling groan of Merle's truck had faded into the distance.

"Daryl," Rick's mother breathed, but he cut her off with a rushed, "M'sorry."

"It's not your fault, son," Sheriff Grimes told him.

"Yeah. Still my brother though. Wish I could say he ain't usually like that, but…you know him."

"I do. And I know you're nothing like him."

Daryl barked out a hoarse, incredulous laugh. "Sure," he rasped, like he didn't believe it one bit.

"In the morning I'll get an APB out on him," the Sheriff mused, "Get some eyes and ears pointed in his direction. At the very least, he won't be able to barge in on us like that again."

"Y'ain't gonna send him back to prison?" Daryl whispered, panic dripping down his spine. "He didn't even hurt nothin'! He was just pissed he came back to an empty house. S'not his fault."

"By no means am I going to try to arrest your brother for anything, Daryl. But if he shows up here like that again, threatens this family, I can't promise—"

"He won't!" Daryl interjected fiercely, "He won't, sir. I'll talk to him."

"And you'll understand if I'm not too comfortable having him over to this house," Rick's father added. And even though he was only being fair, Daryl's chest constricted painfully.

"Yeah…I…I get that. I'll just…I'm gonna go to bed. M'sorry 'bout all this. I…"

At a loss for words, Daryl finally stalked off to his bedroom. And in all the time Shane had known him, he realized then that he'd never seen Daryl hang his head quite so mournfully.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane allowed Daryl to stew in his juices for much longer than the latter expected. It was more than an hour later when the jock knocked quietly on his door, then slipped inside without waiting for a response. He found the younger Dixon hunched over in the space between the wall and his bed, tinkering with his crossbow angrily.

"Hey," Shane muttered cautiously, keeping a good distance from Daryl and sitting down on the opposite side of the bed. "Y'alright?"

"Mmm," Daryl grunted noncommittally, still toying with his bow, never quite looking up.

"I'm sorry 'bout tonight," Shane tried. "Ain't exactly how I wanted to meet your brother, if and when I did. But he started spoutin' that stuff 'bout your dad and I just…lost it. Know I did." The only indication that Daryl was listening was the infinitesimal pause of his hands. "You mad?"

Daryl heaved out a sigh that he must have pulled from the balls of his feet. "Nah. Wasn't…" he looked up at Shane, "Wasn't your fault. Merle's a dick. Just…I thought he'd be happy to see me, ya know?"

Shane moved to sit next to Daryl on the floor, halting the other boy's incessant tinkering.

"He was happy to see you, Daryl. Anyone could see that. S'why he wanted you to go with him. He just let the other stuff get in the way."

Daryl nodded stiffly, staring off at the opposite wall. "He knew about us," Daryl whispered.

"Didn't know a damn thing," Shane said decidedly, "Guessed, maybe. But more likely he was just tryin' to push your buttons."

Daryl was gnawing at the reddened skin of his thumb. "It worked," he mumbled around the appendage.

And then Shane did something that completely surprised him. He leaned towards forward, and pressed his lips gently to Daryl's temple, lingering for a moment before pulling back to take in the younger boy's expression. Kissing was something the two of them hardly ever engaged in without an end game. They kissed before they got each other off, kissed while they got each other off, but rarely as an isolated event. And not once had Shane kissed him as tenderly as that.

When they lay together, they didn't cuddle. They slept as separate as could be- at least to start out- but always managed to drift towards one another as the night wore on. They did not hold hands. They refused to utter those three dangerous words. Shane and Daryl always stayed close, but not so close that the average set of judging eyes might put two and two together. To any outsider, they were close friends. Friends who spent all their time together, whose eyes were always fixed on the other's, and who could communicate with a look, but friends nonetheless.

What they had together worked. It was enough. Or at least Daryl had thought it was enough, until Shane kissed him in that gentle way, both an apology and an endearment.

"M'kinda tired," Daryl rasped, and Shane nodded his understanding, stripping economically and slipping into bed. Daryl flicked off the lights and joined him. But instead of keeping to his side, maintaining that invisible boundary that would always dissipate late at night, Daryl squirmed across the bed until he and Shane were pressed together. And though the other boy seemed surprised, he certainly didn't protest.

Shane's hand began to rub slow circles on Daryl's back, and Daryl thought that maybe seeking a different kind of comfort from Shane wouldn't be so bad, every once in a while. They fell asleep just like that, with Daryl's head on Shane's bare chest.

It was only after several hours of peace that the heat really hit.

Daryl awoke hard against Shane's leg. The room was an iridescent black around him, and Shane's breathing was slow and even. He wasn't quite sure what he'd been dreaming about, what brought this on. But it must have been good, because the fabric of his boxers was already soaked through. And he thought briefly of taking care of himself quickly, going back to sleep. But then Daryl had a much better idea.

He slid his hand cautiously into Shane's boxers, pleased to find the older boy already half-hard from sleep. Daryl stroked his fingers carefully over the head, tracing the vein at the underside and rolling his heavy balls until they were both throbbing in the same demanding rhythm. Even though Daryl felt like a pervert for thinking it, touching Shane while he was sleeping was a heady rush. It was easier too, in a lot of ways, to be able to touch without the consequences, and without Shane's heated gaze on him the entire time. But it wasn't everything he wanted.

Daryl leaned up on his elbows and kissed Shane hard. The other boy responded, after a beat, with a groggy moan. But his lips were moving with Daryl's now, and the younger boy couldn't help but enjoy having Shane like this, confused and half-awake. Daryl relished the power, the chance to do the giving for once.

Shane still hadn't managed to open his eyes when Daryl roughly pulled the other boy onto his side, so they were facing each other in bed. His mouth stayed on Shane's as Daryl wedged their bodies together, taking both their cocks in hand and stroking in slow, easy movements. With Shane usually being the talkative one, but now too dazed to participate, the room was filled with the heavy sounds of their panting. For once, it was Shane who buried his face in Daryl's neck, fingers tangling in the other boy's shirt as he held on for the ride.

Daryl's free hand toyed with the hair at the back of Shane's neck, and brushed rough calluses over the sensitive skin at his sides. It didn't take long at all for Shane's hips to begin canting forward, blindly seeking out the tight grip of Daryl's fist. The younger Dixon licked a stripe up Shane's neck, tugged gently at an earlobe with his teeth, and with several sharp gasps, Shane was coming between them.

It was only as that first wave of toe-curling pleasure pulsed through his body that Shane finally opened his eyes, gazing into Daryl's baby blues with an expression of both surprise and warmth.

"D- Daryl," Shane whimpered. And fuck, that right there… that sent Daryl over the edge with a jolt.

"Fuck, Shane," Daryl finally moaned as come pumped over his hand. He struggled to catch his breath. Afterwards, Shane pressed his forehead into Daryl's, sharing air and not caring much about the mess between them. But even as Shane fell back asleep cradled against his chest, Daryl's mind just wouldn't settle. What should have been a moment of serene bliss only seemed to spur the frightening, vicious loops of thoughts rolling around in his mind.

Maybe back when this all started, when he and Shane had just been using each other to get off, and didn't trust the other as far as he could throw him…maybe then, Merle might have understood. He'd told Daryl before how the guys in prison…found each other from time to time. And his big brother had played it off like it was only natural, needing the comfort of another body while you were inside. Though to be fair, Macon, Georgia wasn't exactly a prison—though many of its citizens might argue otherwise. He hadn't picked Shane as a last resort.

And what they'd become, what he and Shane had just done, that was pretty far from the wry, meaningless fucks Merle had described. They weren't just screwing around anymore. There was no more experimenting. He and Shane were as together as two people could be, and lucky enough to have a family that accepted that, or at least actively ignored it. The problem was: the Grimes were not his family. They'd taken him in when no one else would have, and treated him well, sure. But they weren't blood.

And the only blood Daryl did have, the only person who'd always called him brother, would never accept what he'd become. Daryl had seen the way Merle and Shane glared at one another right from the start. Even if Merle didn't know the specifics, that right there had been a fight for dominance. They may as well have both pissed on his leg, because it was clear to anyone with eyes that the two of them were marking their claim.

Daryl wasn't too keen on belonging to either of them. But he knew how this was going to go. Pick one, or pick neither, but you can't have your cake and eat it too. Things had been going too well for too long, and that wasn't the Dixon way.

For the first time in months, not even the steady warmth of Shane beside him could lull Daryl to sleep.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Shane walked out of school the next afternoon, Merle was leaning up against Daryl's truck, and the jock had immediate flashbacks to his and Daryl's first honest-to-god conversation. The first that hadn't ended in a fist fight. He wasn't so sure he'd be able to reenact that with Daryl's older counterpart.

"Well, look who it is," Merle cooed as he got closer, "Mr. Big Cock on Campus. Bet you're real fuckin' proud of yourself for getting a hit in last night, huh boy? Lemme tell ya, it ain't gonna happen twice."

"Man, are you crazy or just stupid?" Shane spat. "The fuck you think you're doin', showin' up here? Ya gotta know the Sheriff's got all eyes on you. But hell, maybe that's what you're hoping. Maybe you're one of them guys who just can't make it on the outside. Tryin' to provoke the Sheriff so he'll put you away someplace safe."

Merle grinned toothily at him, eyes never crinkling in the least. "Well I can see why Darleena likes ya so damn much. Got a hell of a mouth on you, boy. Bet it reminds him of his big brother."

"I'm serious, Merle," Shane said, crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you doin' here? You know this ain't gonna end well."

"Yeah, ain't gonna end well for you, jackass. 'Cuz lemme tell ya, Shane Walsh, there ain't nothin' you can do to keep me from my brother. And that's a fact."

"Oh, there's plenty I can do. Just fuckin' try me," Shane sneered.

"You think he'll pick you?" Merle punctuated the question with a snort. "Christ, kid, I almost feel sorry for ya. Daryl's my blood. And he's comin' with me, one way or another."

Shane's eyes narrowed. "Know what I think? I think you're scared. You seen he's got a good thing going here. A family that won't crap out on him. People who care about him. And you don't like that 'cuz then, where does that leave you, huh Merle? See, here's how I know I care about Daryl more than you do: when he's got a problem, I fix it. You think what happened to Will Dixon was some damn coincidence? Good police work?" Shane laughed ruefully. "You don't wanna be another problem, Merle. Or I'll make sure you and your daddy end up bunkin' together down at county."

Whatever amusement had remained on Merle's face instantly fell away.

"Don't you go threatnin' me, boy," Merle spat, "Daryl ain't gonna be cozying up to you no more once he finds out what you did."

"And what'd I do?" Shane asked with feign innocence. "Tried to give a drunk asshole a free ride home, is what. Ain't my fault he was packin' more meth than a Mexican mule at the time. And it ain't like I asked him to start beating on me, and on camera to boot. Daryl knows I was just lookin' out for him. And that's what you're missing here, Dixon—Daryl doesn't need you anymore. He's got me."

It was then that Merle's harsh expression chirped up into a fake-looking grin, directed at the space behind Shane's back.

"Well hey there, baby brother. Look who decided to join the party," Merle drawled.

When Shane spun around, the look on Daryl's face was guarded at best. He eyed Shane up and down, warily.

"Thought ya had practice, today?" Daryl finally rasped, and Shane frowned at him.

Yeah, but I wanted to see you first. Get some time together before you head home, like we always fucking do.

"I do," was what Shane eventually said, careful to keep Daryl's eye. But he did not like what he found there.

"Best get going then," Daryl rasped with a flat tone, and Shane could feel Merle's mocking leer against the back of his head. "Don't wanna be late."

Shane shifted uneasily on his feet, not quite ready to make his exit.

"Yeah. I'll see you at home," Shane said. But the statement became more of a question when all Daryl did was grunt in response, shrug a shoulder and refuse to look him in the eye.

Unfortunately though, Shane actually was late. And he couldn't exactly babysit the pair of them and escort Daryl home like a child. He knew the younger Dixon well enough to know that kind of behavior would not stand. So Shane begrudgingly turned his back to them and began the slow walk back towards the school. It was a fight not to look back.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane arrived at the Grimes house late that night, sweaty and tired, and more than looking forward to passing out in Daryl's bed.

But then he opened the front door, and he knew what happened. He knew before Rick even opened his mouth.

"His bow's gone," Rick told him grimly, "His truck. Some of his clothes. And he left the phone we got him on his desk."

Shane floated blindly down the hall and into Daryl's room. He picked up Daryl's phone, and found that the younger boy had been mid-way through a text when he'd set it down and made his leave.

TO: Shane

I'm sorry.

SAVED AS DRAFT: 3:42 PM

Shane lay down on Daryl's side of the bed and tried to quiet his warring mind.