Trigger warning - dubious consent (due to intoxication)

Chapter 12 - Damn lawyers

"Ok, done!" announced Tahlia as Daryl signed the final page. "Congratulations, you are officially a partial business owner!"

"Gawd." muttered Daryl, running a hand over his mouth. "Is it too late to rip all this up and just go back to bein' an employee?"

"Yep!" she replied cheerily. "Way too late. No going back now."

It was Wednesday afternoon and they were sitting in the coffee shop outside Tahlia's work (because Daryl felt too intimidated to meet her in her office) so she could witness him signing the finalized business documents.

"Well. Fuck." he said, slightly dazed as she clinked her coffee cup against his. "Uh, thanks again. And you'd better save a spot for me on your couch for when I default on the loan repayments and end up broke and homeless."

She laughed at his pessimism as she tucked the papers back into the folder. "There'll always be a spot on my couch reserved just for you, but you're not going to need it. This is all going to work out, the business is going to take off, and you'll be a millionaire before you know it!"

Daryl's lips quirked at that fanciful notion. Dreams were free.

"Aw," Tahlia wrinkled her nose apologetically. "I wish I could stay longer, but I have a meeting in fifteen minutes, so I'm going to have to head back up."

"Yeah, course." nodded Daryl, then rubbed his chin nervously. "Uh, hey… so you got that casino night on Friday. Did ya… did ya find yourself a plus one?"

"Oh!" Tahlia looked surprised, then shook her head. "No… I mean, I wasn't actually looking for a plus one, I only asked you." She huffed out a little self-conscious laugh. "There's no one else that I… you know. Just you."

That admission warmed Daryl right up and gave him the courage he needed to push through with this next part.

Because he'd thought about it and thought about her and thought about it all again until he'd worn out every angle, and he kept coming back to this: functions like that weren't his thing at all, but maybe she was. Maybe she was his thing and maybe he could step up and be that guy on her arm and it wouldn't be so bad because she made everything better anyway. And then maybe it wouldn't matter that they were from different worlds because he might still be enough for her and then maybe they would… hell, he didn't know what anything beyond that looked like, all he knew was that he'd started to imagine something beyond with her, and those thoughts alone were totally new to him and kind of terrifying, but they were there, so he might as well start here.

"So," he ventured drumming his fingers on the table, "Turns out I do have somethin' to wear after all. If you… if the offer's still goin'."

"What?!" gasped Tahlia, lighting up. "You want to come?!"

He peeked up at her shyly. "Well, naw, not really, but just thinkin' that I wanna help ya get that hamper."

"Really?! Oh my gosh, Daryl, yes, that would be amazing! I'd love you to come!" gushed Tahlia enthusiastically, her delight palpable. "I'll stick right by your side all night, I promise, I won't let any damn lawyers near you!"

He chuckled, and then because her hand was just there, he reached out and stroked his thumb gently over the back of her knuckles, once, twice, making her draw in a sharp little breath. "Maybe just one damn lawyer."

With every second that ticked closer to Friday evening, Daryl's nerves sparked and burgeoned exponentially and he almost psyched himself out more times than he could count.

And standing in front of the bathroom mirror dressed and ready really didn't help, because all he could think about was how fucking ridiculous he looked, how much of a fraud.

Adjusting the knot of his tie for the millionth time – which felt more like a noose than a fashion accessory - he conceded that he'd never get it to look right and would just have to ask Tahlia for help. That steadied him a little. Thinking of her standing right there in front of him, warm smile, calming presence.

The plan was to head to Tahlia's apartment first to meet her, Michonne and Rick, have a pre-drink, then take a cab to the museum from there. He'd be early if he left now but, fuck, he was going to drive himself crazy if he stayed here staring at his phony reflection any longer.

Just then, he heard the front door bang open and Merle's obnoxiously loud bellow as he came down the hallway.

"You here, baby brother? Comin' to Fox's? Just changin' my shirt then… what in the FUCKIN' hell are YOU up to?!" Merle did a double take at the bathroom door. Leaning one arm on the door frame, he slowly dragged his critical gaze over his brother. "Bit early for a Halloween party, ain't it? Ooh-hoo! Wait, that's right! You're off to the ball tonight, ain't ya, princess?"

"Shuddup." muttered Daryl, dropping his eyes to the dirty tiled floor self-consciously.

"Yeah, yeah - Andie told me you're playin' Tahly's Prince Charmin' for her work thing. Shit, you sure got your panties in a bunch over that girl, don't ya Darlina?" remarked Merle contemptuously as he curled his lip in that lupine way and crossed his arms over his chest. "Said you're off to meet her and that other friend and her po-liceman boyfriend. Know what's funny 'bout that? Two lawyers, a cop and a redneck? Sounds like the start of a fuckin' bad joke!"

Daryl pulled at his tie. Too goddamned tight. Choking.

"And ya know who the punchline of that joke is, doncha, baby brother?" Merle cackled as he grabbed a t-shirt that was draped on the towel rail next to him, balled it up and threw it at Daryl's head. "Punchline every fuckin' time!"

"Fuck off, Merle!" barked Daryl, striding over and kicking the door shut to the sound of Merle's hooting as he carried on down the hall. "Asshole!"

But then, neck prickling and palms sweating, Daryl caught sight of himself in the mirror again and his stomach lurched. He ripped that damn tie from his neck and tossed it in the bath, then pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, a bitter taste stinging his tongue.

Merle was right.

He was a joke. This was a joke.

He couldn't do this.

"Do we have time for one more?!" Michonne called from the apartment kitchen as she poured the tequila for a second round of margaritas into the cocktail shaker.

"Don't need to go overboard now, there's an open bar all night." said Rick sensibly, to which Michonne just pointedly started shaking the mix.

Rick laughed, then turned as Tahlia emerged from her room.

"Wow!" he remarked, his eyebrows shooting up at the sight of her in a figure-hugging red silk evening dress, the split right up to mid-thigh.

"What?" she fretted, nervously smoothing her dress. "Too much?"

Rick quickly shook his head. "No! No, it's… you look…" he trailed off, then glanced sheepishly at Michonne, who just rolled her eyes and threw an ice cube at him.

"It's fine, you can say it!" Then she grinned at Tahlia. "I'll say it. You look smokin' hot!"

"Oh." Tahlia smiled in relief. "You think it's ok?"

"More than ok." Michonne assured her. "Stunning. Where did you get that? I thought you were going to wear the black one?"

"Um, I was, but you know… last minute change." replied Tahlia evasively.

"Uh-huh." Michonne raised a skeptical brow. "And would that have anything to do with your last minute date?"

Michonne had made no secret of the fact that she wasn't a fan of Daryl's. In her head, she still thought of him as the same guy they had met that first night at Fox's – surly, closed-off, rude and someone that Tahlia should steer well clear of.

"I told you, it's not a date! He's just coming as a favor because I helped him with that business stuff."

"And you made me help him, too." Michonne reminded her flatly.

Tahlia smiled sweetly. "And I will make him give you some of his winnings tonight in repayment. Anyway, I should check how far away he is. Where's my…? Ah, there." Spotting her phone on the bench, she scooped it up, then her face fell as she looked down at the message on the screen.

Not coming.

"Oh. Scratch that. He can't make it, after all."

"What?" flared Michonne. "Why not? Let me see!" She snatched Tahlia's phone. "'Not coming.' That's it?! That's all he has to say?! That asshole, I'll -"

"Michy! It's fine!" Tahlia quickly grabbed her phone back. "Look, he hates texting, so he never writes much more than a couple of words in a message anyway. I'm not that surprised, this isn't his scene at all and he really didn't want to come in the first place, so -"

"Don't make excuses for him!" Michonne interrupted. "It's a dick move. What did I tell you about that guy?!"

Much calmer and more sympathetic, Rick tucked an arm around Tahlia's shoulders. "You ok? Want me to go arrest him and throw him in the holding cell for the night?"

"Aw, Rick you sweetie." simpered Tahlia before waving him off, swallowing down her disappointment. "Honestly, I'm fine. It's fine. Just give me that margarita."

"Rick. What's Shane up to tonight?"

Rick shrugged. "Nothing, I don't think. He was just heading home when I left the station."

"Call him. See if he'll come."

"Yeah?"

"No!" protested Tahlia, wide-eyed. "Do not call him. I don't want anyone else! I don't want a date!"

Rick glanced between the two women, unsure.

Tahlia shook her head again. "No. Please don't. I really mean it." She started towards her room. "I just have to make one quick phone call, then we're outta here."

When she was out of sight, Michonne fixed Rick with a pointed look. "Call Shane."

Sitting at their usual table in Fox's, Andrea and Merle were just tucking into some freshly cooked pizza when Daryl, now clad in jeans and a t-shirt, came slamming through the door and threw himself down opposite them, reaching straight for the jug of beer in the center of the table, pouring himself a glass.

Andrea's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Figured out where ya belong, huh, Darlina?" chortled Merle, leaning back in his seat.

Ignoring both of them, Daryl just downed his beer.

"Seriously though," said Andrea, confused. "I thought you were going to Tahly's work thing?"

Daryl shot her a hard look. "Changed my mind."

"What?!" demanded Andrea. "Changed your mind?! When did that happen? Because I spoke to her a couple of hours ago and she was still very much under the impression that you were going with her. You stood her up?!"

"Course not." grumbled Daryl. "Told her."

Andrea glared at him. "And what did she say to that?"

Huffing out a sharp breath of irritation, Daryl averted his eyes and chewed his lip.

He didn't know what she'd said because he'd been too chicken to answer her phone call or listen to her voicemail.

He pushed himself out of his seat. "I'm goin' for a smoke."

Out in the courtyard, Daryl stared down at his phone, then took a deep breath as he raised it to his ear to hear Tahlia's soft voice coming through on the recorded message.

"…hey, Daryl. Is… is everything alright? Look, no worries about tonight, I totally understand. Honestly, if I were you, I wouldn't want to go either!" A light laugh. "…of course I mean, I wish you… never mind, that doesn't matter." A sigh. "But I do just want to know that you're ok. If you need someone to, well… I don't have to go to this thing. Maybe we could just go and hang out somewhere quiet with no damn lawyers or pretentious bullshit." Another laugh, sad, this time. "Only if you wanted, of course, I guess you probably… oh well, just… let me know. Bye."

Oh. He hadn't been expecting that.

The kind of voicemails he was well versed in receiving from women consisted of them shouting and cussing and calling him every name under the sun, but not this. Not sweet concern and genuine care.

But, of course, she wasn't like the others, not to him.

And he was so, so stupid.

Crushing out his cigarette, he dragged a hand through his hair and looked at the time.

There was still so much of the night left. He could suck up his insecurities and go and meet her and get her that damned hamper then take her somewhere quiet, just them, just like she'd said, and make things right.

With a mind laden with what-ifs and regrets, he stopped back by the table, where all of their regular crew were now sitting, to let them know he was leaving.

But before he could say anything, Andrea spoke first.

"Tahly's having a great time without you, you know."

Daryl glanced at her warily, waiting for further clarification of her statement.

Andrea crossed her arms and stared daggers at him.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Tahlia was into Daryl (no matter how much she attempted to downplay it) - Andrea only just had to mention his name and her friend lit up from the inside out. Secretly, Andrea liked the idea of her best friend dating her boyfriend's brother, but she'd heard so much crap from Merle about Daryl that she kept her ideas to herself because, as much as she liked Daryl, it didn't sound like he'd be any good for Tahlia.

But then, she'd noticed the way he looked at Tahlia, like she was the only girl in the room; she knew that they'd become closer, and she'd started to wonder if maybe, maybe he would treat her right after all.

But she was obviously wrong about that, because he was here in front of her instead of with Tahlia like he was supposed to be.

After Daryl had gone out for a smoke, Andrea had called Michonne (because she knew that Tahlia would only insist that everything was fine) who had relayed the truth of how gutted she knew Tahlia to be, and it had left Andrea flaming. Admittedly, she and Michonne were both overprotective of their lovely, easy-going friend and probably raged in her corner more often than she actually needed them to, but Tahlia was just so nice that they took it upon themselves to shield her from hurt as best as they could and lash out for her when they couldn't.

So, yeah.

Daryl was about to get stung.

"That's right," continued Andrea, "It's actually fine that you didn't go, because Shane's with her. And they always have so much fun together."

"What?!" Daryl's eyes narrowed and he dropped down into the nearest chair. "Shane? That fuckin' asshole cop?"

Andrea glowered right back at him. "Shane showed up for her. He's not the asshole here."

Then her phone beeped.

"Oh, look. Michy's sent me some pictures. Aw, see how good they look together?" Smugly, she flipped her screen to Daryl who couldn't help but dismally agree that, yeah, they did look goddamned good together.

Tahlia was looking next-level incredible in some silky, red dress, most of one long, lean leg on display as Shane, sharp and confident in a tux, dipped her halfway to the ground.

Then Andrea flipped to the next picture, Shane behind Tahlia, his arms around her, his mouth pressed to her ear and a cheeky glint in his eyes as she leaned back into him, laughter all over her face.

Daryl couldn't go to her, because she was already with someone else. He'd missed his chance.

He felt sick. Cold.

But most of all, he felt like a fucking idiot.

And now, he just wanted to make all the feelings go away.

"Cute, huh?" pressed Andrea frostily. "He's such a great guy. Such a catch. Perfect for her. It's so good she's finally realized that, don't you think?"

Still staring at the picture, a tormented flame in his eye, Daryl then jumped up.

"Goin' to the bar."

"Hey, Merle!" Tara called out two hours later as she passed by with a tray of glasses. "Think you could get your brother to take things down a notch? People are getting pretty uncomfortable with the level of PDA out in the courtyard."

"Fuckin' hell." grumbled Merle as he went outside for the second time that night to deal with Daryl.

The first time, Daryl – who had sped down a path of self-destruction after seeing the pictures of Tahlia and Shane, downing so much booze that everyone was surprised he hadn't keeled over yet - had been well-wasted and mouthy, trying to start fights with anyone over anything, and Merle had to step in and smooth things over (which he really did not fucking appreciate having to do) and drag him back inside and jam him in a corner to keep him out of trouble.

At some point after that, with even more bourbons under his belt, Daryl had found his way back outside and ended up attached to Amber who was, although equally intoxicated, elated to have his attention, and now they were putting on a graphic show for anyone who could stomach being in their vicinity.

The Dixons had been through thick and thin and were pretty lenient with one another, but even Merle could see that this was well out of character for Daryl these days, and he had to be reined in.

"Would ya get your goddamned ass in here and stop fuckin' everyone off!" Merle bitched as he threw Daryl back down at the table, Amber trailing behind with a gooey smile on her face. "And stop fuckin' drinkin'! Hell is wrong with ya?!"

"Pisssofff." slurred Daryl as he reached for the closest glass, hardly noticing that Amber had started mouthing at his neck.

"Fuckin' disgrace." snarled Merle, annoyed that he had long laid off the beers so that he could sober drive his train-wreck of a brother home. "This isn't fuckin' Trapeze! Would you two keep it in your goddamned pants?!"

Watching on with supercilious disapproval, Andrea shook her head, feeling like maybe Tahlia dodged a bullet if this was the kind of person Daryl could descend into.

Merle growled in annoyance. "Think I'm gonna have to get this asshole home. Look at the goddamned state of him." He frisbeed a coaster at Amber. "Girl! Get the hell off him. I'm takin' him home."

"Fuckkkoff, Merle." muttered Daryl. "She's stayin' with me."

"You fuckin' serious?" Because Merle knew how sober-Daryl felt about Amber. Then he gave an irritable huff. "Know what? I don't give a fuck. You two can carry on with this fuckin' car crash if ya like, but y'ain't doin' it here. C'mon. Fuckin' mess."

"Am fine!" insisted Daryl, squinting through red-rimmed eyes as he knocked a glass over. "Just… ah, shit."

Merle grabbed Daryl's arm, forcing his brother to his feet. "Let's go, asshole."

Back at the house, both Daryl and Amber tripped over on the path, and for a dark moment, Merle was tempted to turn the hose on them, then lock them outside for the night.

But he took a breath and helped them up and shoved them inside, where the two of them stumbled to Daryl's bedroom and slammed the door, Amber's over-enthusiastic moans starting up already.

"God's sake." grumbled Merle as he took Andrea's hand and led her down the hall. "Sorry, baby. Might need some earplugs tonight."