Ok guys, so the big news is that Doctor's Orders officially has an end game. Tentatively, I'll be calling this at Chapter 27. I have a couple more stories to tell before this particular Sharyl fic will feel complete to me. (But if you have any requests, send them now and I can try- no promises- to make them work!). I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! I know I did.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When they walked into the bar, it had the exact same stale, lifeless smell about it that it had had the last time Shane had deigned to enter. And when the bartender spotted him from his perch, he glowered with commitment.
"This is a bad idea," Shane muttered in Daryl's direction. The younger Dixon looked even less thrilled than Shane felt, eyeing the sparse, aging clientele and the rusty barstools.
"Aw, grow some nuts QB," Merle quipped, pushing past them and into the room.
"I'm not quarterback!" Shane called out after him, unduly offended. He saw Daryl smirking out of the corner of his eye. "I'm not," Shane asserted, a little sheepishly this time.
"C'mon," Daryl said softly, "It's just a drink. Ain't no one in a place like this gonna call ya out for startin' a fight once or twice."
"Twice," Shane replied, "And considerin' that I've only been in this place twice, and they had to call the cops on me both times, my track record ain't exactly stellar."
"'Bout as good as Merle's," Daryl said, nodding over to where his brother and the bartender were chatting animatedly, smiles on their faces. "And he's still welcome."
Shane let out a long suffering sigh. "Fine. Fine. I'll quit complaining."
Daryl's lip twitched again in a bitten off smile, and they made their way over to the bar to sit down alongside Merle.
"And that's when I told her, honey, y'can either ride this dick, or suck it, but I ain't touchin' that cunt o' yours 'fore that rash clears up," Merle finished as the boys sat down. He grinned widely, "Why dontcha get some drinks for these fine young men, eh barkeep?"
"You know my damn name, Merle," the bartender groused.
"Yeah, but if I use it, then that air of mystery all them chicks go crazy for s'gonna go up in smoke. I'm doin' ya a favor."
The bartender set down two beers in front of Daryl and Shane. He looked the dark-haired boy in the eye. "You start another fight, and the next time you try and come in my bar, imma cuff ya on the way in. Got it?"
"Got it," Shane replied quickly. He took a too-fast sip of his beer and smiled up at the gruff man. Receiving a nod in return, the bartender ambled on to his other customers, and Shane sagged just a little bit in his seat.
"See? Got yourself all worked up for nothin'," Daryl mumbled into his glass, and Shane scowled at him.
"I'll work you up," he responded lamely, and Daryl couldn't help but laugh out loud at that.
"I'd like to see you try!"
"I swear if y'all don't quit your flirting, I ain't never gonna take you lovebirds out with me again!" Merle exclaimed, cutting off their playful bickering, but he had a smile on his face too.
A few drinks in, and Daryl cast a lingering glance towards Shane before heading off towards the bathroom with a mumble about "needin' to piss."
Shane and Merle sat in silence for several minutes, watching the game, before the elder Dixon blurted out, "The fuck you still doin' here?"
Shane looked to him. "Huh?"
"Christ, do I gotta spell it out for ya?" Merle griped, "That there," he pointed towards the back of the bar, where Daryl had disappeared, "was a fuckin' sign if I ever did see one."
"The hell do you mean, a sign?"
"He wants you to get back there and fuck him," Merle replied plainly, causing Shane to choke on his drink. "Or for you to get back there so he can fuck you. Ya know what- I don't wanna know which one of y'all bends over for who. All I need is for you to get your ass to that bathroom. 'Cuz if ya wait any fuckin' longer, Daryl's bound to give up. And the last thing I need is that little shit sulkin' the whole night."
That was all the encouragement Shane needed. He downed his beer in a single gulp, hopped up off the barstool, and charged towards the bathroom. The jock burst through the door with a smirk on his face, making Daryl jump where he stood.
But then the younger man's look of shock melted into a smile. "Took ya long enough."
Shane sauntered towards him, making a slow show of unclasping his belt.
"Your brother," Shane drawled out slowly, "Seems to think you're waiting for me here 'cuz ya need to get fucked. Was he right, Daryl? You been waitin' for me?"
Daryl leaned back against the counter as Shane caged him in with his muscular arms.
"Yeah…" he murmured, breath hitching noticeably when one of Shane's legs slid between is, rubbing against his already throbbing length just right. Shane whipped away Daryl's belt in one smooth movement, letting the younger boy's jeans pool to the floor. When Shane saw Daryl was bare underneath, he smiled like a wild animal spotting its next meal.
"Guess you oughta bend over for me then," Shane rasped, eyeing Daryl up and down and licking his lips. Without waiting for the other boy to respond, he spun Daryl so they were both facing the mirror, and pushed gently on the center of his back. Daryl lowered himself forward until his ass was sticking out invitingly, maintaining Shane's dark gaze in the reflective surface.
"Someone could walk in," Daryl said. And it was true, the bathroom was public and they hadn't even bothered to find a stall. It wasn't exactly likely, since they seemed to have Merle on their side at the moment. But it was certainly possible.
"That mean you want to stop?" Shane asked him.
Daryl shook his head slowly, and Shane grinned.
"S'what I thought."
The dark-haired boy, keeping his movements predictable and leisured, pulled Daryl's hands behind his back. When he then picked up the belt he'd flung towards the sink only moments before, a look of understanding passed over Daryl's face.
"Still alright?" Shane asked him.
Daryl bit at his lip for a beat before nodding again, and pushing his wrists together invitingly.
"That's my boy," Shane murmured as he bound Daryl's wrists together with his belt, "So good for me."
He spit thoroughly into his hand, then slowly inched a finger into Daryl. The boy was watching him through the mirror, mouth hanging open as he panted shallowly. He found Daryl's spot and rubbed over it in small circles, shivering himself when Daryl whined needily. It took almost no effort at all to push in a second finger alongside the first. And he didn't let up until Daryl was bucking back against his hand.
"M'ready," Daryl gasped out. His face was a pleasing shade of pink, flushed nearly as red as his cock.
"Yeah," Shane agreed, "Look at you. Ya need it bad, now, huh?"
Daryl glared at him from under his unruly bangs. "C'mon."
"Fuck," Shane groaned as he slid their bodies together just right, "Fuck, fuck yeah, Daryl."
The dark-haired boy pulled nearly all the way out and slammed in again hard, punching out a moan from Daryl's bite-swollen lips. And when Shane caught Daryl's lust-drunk expression in the mirror, he knew there would be no slow and easy. Shane fucked into Daryl hard and fast, cock shoved up hard against the younger teen's prostate until Daryl's every breath was coming out a groan.
"Shane…" Daryl whimpered, pressing back for more. His cock was twitching and leaking underneath him, begging for attention, and with his hands bound as they were, pleading seemed like the only option. "Shane, please…"
All at once, Shane pulled out of Daryl and whipped him around. He grabbed a muscular leg in each hand and jerked the younger boy up onto the counter, pumping into him again in one smooth movement.
Shane could feel Daryl's legs trembling, wrapped around his body. He could see how red the younger boy's length was, reaching up towards his belly and twitching every time Shane bottomed out inside of him.
Trailing kisses up the side of Daryl's neck, Shane murmured to him, "Fuckin' love you, Daryl."
The blue-eyed boy's head fell to Shane's shoulder. "Shane. Need...need to…" Daryl panted.
"What do you need, baby? You need to come?"
Daryl moaned again, writhing uselessly against Shane.
"Lemme come," Daryl breathed out, seeking out Shane's eyes. "Shane, please...please, lemme…"
"Shh, I got you," Shane whispered, wrapping a hand around Daryl's member and pumping him in time with his thrusts. He knew Daryl was already hanging on by a thread. "You love it when I fuck you, huh Daryl? I know you do. Show me now, okay? Show me how much you love me. Let go for me, c'mon."
One more well-timed thrust and Daryl was done for.
"Shane, fuck. Fucking hell…" he groaned as his cock pulsed come all over the older boy's hand. And as soon as Daryl clenched down hard around him, Shane lost it too, pumping into Daryl sporadically and moaning against the side of Daryl's face as he came.
Shane released Daryl's hands and they panted through it together, clutching each other contentedly despite their locale. When they walked out of the bathroom several minutes later, Daryl made it three steps into the room before freezing in his tracks.
Cash was here. Sitting next to his big brother at the bar, pounding back shots of whiskey, and smirking that same expression Daryl had seen before the husk of a man in front of him had pulled the trigger weeks ago. Neither man looked happy. But before Shane seemed to recognize why Daryl was upset, and before the latter had managed to move a muscle, the pair's hushed argument quickly became an all out brawl.
"Fuck you!" Merle shouted as he threw Cash to the ground. "You think you can come in here and threaten me?"
Cash hooked him one in the gut, and Merle retaliated by cracking a beer bottle over the man's head. It was hopeless from there. Daryl and Shane rushed to pry them apart, suffering injuries of their own in the process. And through all their struggling and snarling shouts, it felt like only seconds before they heard the sirens.
Four cops bust through the front door, with Sheriff Grimes leading the pack.
"I'll kill you!" Merle growled, hardly helping his cause. "Say one more word 'bout my brother. See what happens."
But the cops were already pinning him to the ground, cuffing his hands behind his back. He and Cash were hauled out into the parking lot, with Daryl and Shane trailing behind and shouting out their version of the story.
Once Merle had been shoved into the back of a cruiser, and calmed down some, the Sheriff crouched by the open door.
"I'm gonna do everything I can for you, Merle," Mr. Grimes told him, "But assault...that's breakin' your parole. Ya had to know that."
Merle's face was stony, staring towards the car where Cash had been stowed. "Did what I had to do, Sheriff."
One of the cops rushed over and whispered something in Sheriff Grimes' ear.
"That so?" the Sheriff exclaimed. He smiled shrewdly and looked to Cash, "Well, sonny. Seems you got warrants out in three different states for first degree murder. If I was you, I wouldn't expect to be seeing the light of day any time soon."
Daryl couldn't help but feel proud, in that moment, of the Sheriff's cheek.
The cops got back into their cars to head back to the station, but not before Daryl rushed over to Merle's side.
"I'll get you out," Daryl promised him, "We'll figure it out, okay? We always do."
Merle shot him a halfhearted smile. "Whatever you say, baby brother."
And then they were gone.
TWDTWDTWDTWD
The courthouse felt more like a hospital than anything, and Daryl was shivering as soon as he stepped inside. The walls were starkly white, as were the tiled floors and the fluorescent ceilings above them. The room stunk of disinfectant and anxiety. And the judge, looming above them on her pedestal, looked more like an executioner with her long black robe and longer white hair.
The purpose of the hearing was to determine if Merle would be getting more jail time, his lawyer had explained. Since this wasn't his first rodeo, and hardly his first time breaking parole, stricter terms of probation were largely off the table. The best thing they could do for Merle, the lawyer said, was plead his case and hope the judge would go easy on him.
Since it was a parole hearing, not a trial, the Judge alone would determine whether the elder Dixon would be carted away to prison for the umpteenth time. She was a thin, narrow woman with long, red nails and high-arching eyebrows.
Daryl wasn't exactly feeling optimistic.
The Sheriff was up first. He'd have clout, the lawyer had said, and was well respected in the community. From his periphery, the lawyer's pretty blonde intern- Andrea, Daryl thought her name was- shot him a reassuring smile.
"I've known Merle for a good fifteen years," the Sheriff began, "Known the DIxon family longer than that. And one thing I can say without a shadow of a doubt is that I've never seen Merle turn over a new leaf like he has these last few months. He's held down a steady, honest job. He's stayed clean. He's at my house for Sunday night dinners every week and he's never once shown up late. What happened at the bar was a mistake. Merle knows that. We all know that. And he's willing to pay the price. But sending him back to prison now is going to reverse months of progress, more progress than this man has made in years. I can vouch for Merle Dixon. And all I'm asking is that in turn, the court consider that more jail time might not be the best course of action here."
The Judge thanked Sheriff Grimes for his time, and he resumed his seat behind the Defense. There were a handful of witnesses that came after him- social workers, former parole officers and the like- who Daryl didn't bother to listen to too closely. It wasn't until he heard his own name called that he really began to sweat.
Daryl gnawed at his lip as he walked up to the witness stand. He sat down at his chair. Coughed, needlessly. Tried to straighten out the tie that the Grimes had insisted he wear. Daryl caught Merle's eye, and his big brother gave him a firm nod. He looked to Shane next, whose eyes managed to say You can do this without his mouth ever moving.
"State your name for the court."
Daryl flushed, coughed again. "Uh...Daryl. Daryl Dixon."
"Relationship to the defendant?"
"He's my brother."
"And I understand you've prepared a statement?" the Judge asked him.
"Yeah," Daryl said too quickly, "I mean, yes ma'am. I did. Sorta."
The Judge cocked an eyebrow at him, and tapped her fingernails against the counter in front of her. There was an elongated pause before she shot him a shrewd smile, "Any day now, Mr. Dixon."
"Oh!" Daryl exclaimed, "Right. Guess I'll just…"
Daryl swallowed hard, and clenched his eyes shut. Then, he started from the beginning.
"Figure you've read Merle's file, maybe mine too," Daryl said, looking to the Judge. "Maybe saw some stuff in there 'bout our Mom, how she burnt herself up when I was a kid, took the whole house with her. Probably just skimmed through all the domestics the police have had to write up on our Dad over the years. Gotta be so many in there by now, ain't even worth lookin' through. I bet you even noticed how all them reports started maybe ten years back, after our Mom went. But you look like a smart.." Daryl's eyes darted around briefly, searching for the right word.
"Woman," he continued with a cringe, "And I think you know as well as anyone that just 'cuz that's when the police reports started comin' in, don't mean that's when all that stuff started. Truth is, our Dad's always been a bastard. And a drunk. And he was beatin' on my Mom and Merle long before I came around. Only reason…" Daryl let out a shuddering breath, "only reason I'm even alive right now is 'cuz Merle used to provoke him. Piss him off so he'd get tired beatin' him first, and leave me be.
"There ain't no reports from before my Mom went, 'cuz Merle never complained. He just...took it, to keep me safe. Didn't know there was any other way. Used to tell me...that the only person who'd ever care about me was him. That I couldn't trust no one. Wasn't 'til I met the Grimes that I realized he was wrong. But it wasn't Merle's fault he thought that way. All he ever knew was fightin', fendin' for himself."
Daryl kept his eyes on the floor at the center of the room, struggling to get this all out at once, no matter how many times he'd practiced.
"What I'm saying is, Merle's a good brother. And I know he mouths off a lot, and does the wrong thing, but he's trying. Trying to get better. I've seen him changing, these last few months. And anyone in the Sheriff's office can tell ya that Merle Dixon turnin' himself around is the closest thing any of y'all are ever gonna see to a miracle.
"But...you send him back to prison now, with a whole bunch of guys who are way worse than him, and you're signing his death certificate. 'Cuz even if he makes it out of there alive, the guy that comes out won't be my brother no more."
Daryl managed to meet the Judge's gaze, finally. He was surprised to find it had softened considerably.
"Don't do that to him," Daryl begged, "Don't do that to me." He fought to keep his voice from wavering. "I just want my brother back."
He let out a long breath through his nose, and looked around the room. All eyes were on him, and Daryl wished he could melt into the wood paneling behind him.
It occurred to him that he hadn't exactly wrapped up his statement.
"Uh...thank you," Daryl finished, giving the Judge a curt nod.
She smiled at him. "You can go sit down, Mr. Dixon."
Daryl rushed back to his seat beside his brother, sinking down low into the chair. Merle wasn't looking at him, not full on. But Daryl could see he was biting back a smile.
Per his lawyer's advice, Merle's only contribution to the ordeal were two sentences: "I made a mistake, and I'm sorry for it. I appreciate ya'll takin' the time to hear me out."
Then the Judge retreated to her chambers, and the Dixon clan was left to stew in their juices.
TWDTWDTWDTWD
Daryl and Merle headed out front for a smoke break while they waited, with two security guards as escorts.
Merle took a long pull, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye.
"What you said in there…" he rasped.
Daryl shrugged. "Just told 'em the truth."
They stood in silence for a long time, until Merle finally dropped his cigarette butt on the ground and squashed it under his boot.
"I love you, baby brother," Merle said, "Even if you do bat for the other team."
Daryl flushed and jabbed the elder Dixon in the ribs. "Asshole," he huffed, smiling. "Love you too."
TWDTWDTWDTWD
They were called back inside, and Daryl could see Merle's body ossify as soon as they stepped through the wide oak doors of the courtroom.
Merle stood in front of the Judge with his hands cuffed in front of him.
"Merle Dixon…" the Judge sighed. "You know normally, when someone comes into my court with a rap sheet ten miles long, I'm not too inclined to listen to a sob story excusing their latest screw-up. But this is a special case. Not so much seeing an ex-con break his parole: that's a tale as old as time. But an ex-con who makes a real effort to turn himself around, so much so that he gets the county Sheriff down here testifying on his behalf- that's something you don't see every day."
She looked up from her papers. "Now I want you to hear me when I say this, Mr. Dixon, because I'm starting to doubt you've heard this much before. You and your brother were dealt a bad hand. And while that doesn't excuse every bad decision you've ever made, it certainly explains many of them. This bar fight? It was stupid, Dixon, plain and simple.
"However, I don't think it's enough to suggest that you're heading back towards a life of crime. So here's what's going to happen. You'll be doing community service five days a week, teaching Mechanics at the Juvenile Detention Center in Senoia. You will also be going to court-mandated therapy, twice a week, until your therapist sees you fit to discontinue. If you miss a session, you go to jail. If you show up late to teach our young offenders, you go to jail. But if you manage to fulfill both of those responsibilities for the next six months, then at the end of that time, you can come back to my courtroom and we can reassess your terms."
The security guard came up by Merle's side and uncuffed him, leaving both Dixons stunned into silence.
"I'm giving you a chance, Mr. Dixon," the Judge said as she stood, the rest of the room rising up with her. "Try not to make me look bad."
With that, she went out the back door of the court, and Daryl broke out into a wide, brilliant smile.
His eyes darted to their lawyer, still disbelieving. "No jail time?" he questioned.
The lawyer smiled back at him. "No jail time."
A moment later, Merle's burly arms were squeezing the life out of his baby brother, and it was the best damn feeling in the world.