AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
There were two earlier today, so if you haven't read them, you'll absolutely want to do that. Please don't forget to leave me some love on those chapters!
I hope you enjoy this one! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
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"How much longer, Merle?" Andrea asked.
"Three hours, Sugar," Merle said. "At least."
Three hours, and they'd already been driving for two and a half. It was six in the morning, but it hadn't been too big of a damn deal to leave around three because Andrea had kept Merle up most of the night anyway. The Jeep behind them was keeping a pretty comparative speed to them, and only once had someone gotten between them.
Andrea let out a sound like a choked whine of pain and pressed her head against the window of the truck.
"Smoke this," Merle said. "It'll settle your nerves."
"I don't want it," Andrea said, pushing away the cigarette pack he offered in her direction.
"Well I want your ass to have it," he said. "Because I don't got no damn booze an' you need to simmer the fuck down."
Merle would've been telling a bald-faced lie if he said that he'd had no idea at all that his baby brother had been working up to a proposal. Nearly the only thing that Daryl thought about these days was that little woman. He ate, drank, and slept her. He'd been so wrapped up in her, and gone so much from the house, that he hadn't even noticed that Andrea had practically moved right on in to Merle's bedroom with him—going so far as to put some girly ass touches all over the house like candles and floral scented sprays in the bathrooms.
Merle hadn't expected, though, to get the video of his brother taking a knee to ask the little woman to be his wife, followed directly after with the announcement that not only were they getting hitched, but they intended to do it first thing after breakfast.
Merle had still been digesting the whole thing when Andrea had practically crumbled to pieces. She'd dissolved into a snotty pile of tears and, other than the time when she'd actually worked herself into throwing up, she hadn't really stopped being a soggy mess since then. She was just about to worry Merle to death, and he was starting to feel itchy over the fact that he didn't know how to console her. He was driving, just as fast as he could, to get her there in time so that she didn't have to miss the big event.
But, still, she was worried that his best efforts wouldn't be enough, and she'd miss this huge moment in Carol's life.
He decided, finally, that tough love might be the best approach—and one that he hadn't tried yet.
She'd taken the cigarette and rolled down the window to smoke it, but Merle could still hear her sucking snot and almost hiccupping around her upset.
"Get you some more of them napkins outta the glove box, Andrea, and dry that shit up," Merle barked. "I mean it. Right the fuck now!"
She jumped and looked at him like he'd kicked her.
"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you," she said.
"Well, you are," Merle said. "Damn snifflin' an' shit—don't do shit for shit. That's all there is to it."
"My best friend is getting married without me, Merle," Andrea lamented.
"You been soggier in the past twelve hours than you been the whole damn time I known you," Merle said. "I can't put up with this shit forever."
"I'm so sorry to inconvenience you!" She yelled, her voice breaking even as she did. She tried to suck it back, but she had a sound similar to an engine that wouldn't start when the tears were on the verge of turning into the hard cry they'd been before—the cry that had led her to gagging and, eventually, puking.
"I'm dead ass serious," Merle said. "I'm about three seconds from pullin' over on the damned shoulder an' lettin' your friends pick your ass up. Let them deal with you all the fuckin' way to the beach."
Merle thought she might stop crying, but she didn't. Instead, the dam broke and she went right back to the hard cry—the genuine ass crying—that she'd done the night before. This was the cry that made Merle feel like a tiny little man with razor hands was shredding his insides, and he hated the sound of it.
"Alright," he said, softening his tone. He reached over and touched her shoulder. She recoiled away from him like she was trying to get as far into the corner of her side of the truck as was humanly possible. Merle didn't let her go, though. He kept rubbing her back with the one hand he didn't have to have to steer the truck. "I was fuckin' with you, Andrea. I didn't mean it. I'm not gonna—put your ass out beside the road."
"I can't stop," she said around gasping sounds. Merle believed her. She'd worked herself into such a mess that she couldn't stop—and the fact that she had to be every bit as exhausted as he felt probably wasn't helping matters.
He laughed to himself, his own exhaustion pushing him to the opposite direction of things.
"Just don't fuckin' puke again, Sweetheart," he offered. "I can't handle you barfin' while we're drivin' down the damn road, and if I lose control, I'm liable to take your friend an' her little woman with us."
"I told you I was sorry I threw up!" Andrea got out through her strained sobs.
Merle laughed to himself.
"I'm not pissed off at you for gettin' sick. Just—take some damn deep breaths. They ain't gonna get married 'fore we get there. I told Daryl he better not dare to move his ass from where he's at. I didn't care what the hell he had to do to stall her."
Andrea stared at her phone—the phone with the tracker on it. The phone that told her where Carol was, as long as Carol didn't leave her phone somewhere. It was something they'd activated some time ago while playing around with features on their phones, and it was something they'd never bothered to deactivate. It came in handy, because it got them a location to work toward before Daryl had answered Merle back with the address of the courthouse.
The truth was that Merle wanted to see his baby brother get married every bit as much as Andrea wanted to see Carol get married—he just wasn't given to being quite as emotional as she was. Of course, Andrea wasn't always quite as emotional as she was right now, either, so Merle did his best to forgive her for her sobbing.
"Did you tell him, specifically, that we're coming?" Andrea asked.
"As fast as we can without gettin' stopped," Merle assured her. "I'm tellin' you, Sugar, she ain't gonna say 'I do' until you there. But—she ain't gonna want you all puffy-eyed and red-faced neither. Messin' up her damn weddin' pictures and all." Andrea was still sucking it back, but she calmed a little, listening to Merle's words. "Why don't'cha just—trust Merle to get'cha to the courthouse on time, Darlin'? Lean your ass over here, put'cha head on my shoulder, and get you a lil' damn nap."
"What about you?" Andrea asked. Her voice shaking as she sucked in air to calm herself as best she could. "You'll fall asleep."
Merle laughed to himself.
"Trust me. I ain't gonna fall asleep. Now come on—just lean right over here, Sugar. Close them pretty ass eyes you got."
It only took a bit more coaxing before Andrea did lean against him. Merle kept his arm around her since he didn't really need it at the moment. He rubbed her shoulder and, before long, she drifted off under the promise that Merle would get her there to see her best friend get married to his baby brother.
Merle relaxed, with a sigh himself, when she was still and mostly quiet—snoring a little after all those tears. She was at peace, so he could be, too.
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Daryl hadn't told Carol what was going on. He'd stalled a little around breakfast—dilly dallying with his pancakes and eating smaller bites than he normally would. He'd requested extras and his soon-to-be bride hadn't complained about the inconvenience of mixing more batter and make him fresh ones to fill his stomach to maximum capacity.
She hadn't complained, either, when he'd begged syrupy tasting kisses from her or, after brushing his teeth and realizing they still needed to kill some time, had begged her to let him hide beneath the skirt of her favorite dress for just a little while and slowly, and thoroughly, enjoy a little dessert to go with his breakfast.
She'd suggested that, maybe, that was unlucky before the wedding, but he'd managed to beg, it seemed, in just the right way to get her to change her mind.
Daryl liked eating her pussy more than he liked most activities, so it hadn't been a disagreeable way to stall for a good while. The fact that she'd insisted on returning the favor had only been an unexpected bonus to the morning.
The place didn't open until probably after nine, anyway, he'd reasoned to her, so there was no need to rush.
Finally, with an update from her friend Alice that they would be there soon—right at the address of the courthouse where he told them to be—Daryl had escorted Carol out to the truck, helped her into the cab, and locked up the house.
"You're sure this is fine with you?" Carol worried.
"Perfect," Daryl said. "You sure you don't wanna wait?"
"It's fine with me. I just know how you feel about your movies and…this isn't how it happens in most of them."
Daryl reached his hand over and caught hers. He squeezed it.
"Real thing's better," he assured her. "Not a single damn one of them assholes were lucky enough to be marryin' you."
"You're sure you don't mind that—I wore this dress last night?" Carol asked.
"You love that dress," Daryl said.
"Yeah, but…"
"You look pretty in that dress," Daryl said. Carol smiled at him. "What the hell is more important, though, is that it's clear you feel pretty in that dress. I might not be able to give you no picture like the one you got in your album—somethin' to look back on and think how…fancy it all was. But I still want'cha to feel as pretty as I think you are."
Carol squeezed his hand.
"I can't wait to frame our wedding picture, Daryl," Carol said.
"Yeah?" He asked.
She smiled and nodded.
"And hang it up," she said. "In the living room. Maybe—if you wanted, I mean…we could even see about…not today, but sometime…some of those professional pictures. Like…engagement photos, but…when we're already married."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"I'd take pictures with you every damn day," he assured her. "And twice on Tuesdays."
He raised her hand and kissed it. His phone, clipped to the holder on his dash, directed them to the courthouse. It was clearly open, though it wasn't doing a large amount of business this Sunday morning. He'd called ahead, while Carol had been brushing her teeth and dabbing gloss on her lips, to make sure that someone was on site to officiate. He'd been assured that it probably wouldn't be a busy day for weddings.
He parked the truck, and he saw Carol's face as she realized that the cars around them didn't just look familiar.
"Did you do this?" She asked. She barely let him nod before, a wide grin on her face, she threw open her door. He was glad to see that she was clearly pleased with the surprise when she slid out of her side of the truck and wrapped her arms around Andrea's neck—the blonde practically falling backward with the force of the hug she did her best to return.
"You were going to get married without me!" Andrea cried.
"I'm so glad you're here," Carol cried back. "It's all really perfect, now!"
Daryl smiled to himself, happy to see her so happy. For every burst of happiness that she showed him, he felt like his own heart pumped a little harder. Daryl was glad that he'd thought to let Merle know what was going on the night before. He was happier for her, honestly, than he even was that his brother was able to be at the last-minute wedding.
Merle slapped Daryl on the back, and then he hugged him.
"Proud of ya, boy," was all he said, but it was enough.
"Thought you could use a groomsman," Alice said, stretching her back dramatically as she and her girlfriend walked over from the Jeep. "I brought an extra bridesmaid to keep things balanced."
She accepted her hug from Carol even as she spoke to Daryl.
"Happy to have you," Daryl said, sincerely. "Both of you. All of you. Hell—the more the merrier."
"Jacqui is keeping things running in Living Springs," Andrea said. "Oh—and Mich—you know Mich. She's helping Jacqui, but…we'll all be there for the wedding shower."
"There's no wedding shower after a marriage," Carol said. "And not on a second marriage."
Andrea was holding her face tenderly.
"We weren't there for the first one," Andrea said, "so it doesn't count."
"I like the sound of that," Daryl offered. "Like the sound that a whole lot—the first one, the whole damn thing—it don't count."
Carol laughed and practically dived into his arms. She was crying, but so was Andrea, so he assumed that it was just a common thing—tears and weddings.
"Well let's get a fuckin' move on and get to the one that does count," Merle said. "Some of us ain't had breakfast and could use a couple decent hours of sleep once we find a motel."
"You could stay with us," Carol offered, clearly a knee-jerk reaction since there was hardly room for so many people to be comfortable in the tiny little beach house.
Merle laughed at that.
"Wouldn't fuckin' dream of it, Sugar," he said. "I like my privacy and, besides—Me an' Andrea gonna need the space. And you gonna need it, too." He winked at her and then reached an arm out and caught Daryl by the neck. He squeezed him affectionately. "Come on, brother. Let's go get your ass hitched."
Daryl held onto Carol, but she came perfectly in step with him, her arm hooked around his waist.
"You ain't gotta drag me," he teased. "There ain't a damn thing I want more today."
