AN: Here we are, another chapter here. I'm not sure if people saw the last chapter, so check in on that one if you didn't.
Also, I'll admit that I don't 100% love this chapter, but I needed it to introduce/touch on some things, and it ended up being what it is. LOL
I hope that you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
"I'm not shittin' you," Merle said. "It's like—the whole damn list is what's killin' me, Sugar."
Daryl laughed at Merle's story. They sat in the truck, outside the Y, and smoked cigarettes with the windows rolled down. Each of them had a beer in a Styrofoam cup. It was just one, and it would take the edge off without causing them any problems. It was, of course, illegal for them to be drinking the beers, in the parking lot, in the truck, but nobody was paying them any attention in Living Springs anyway.
Tonight would be the first night of the "Daddy Knows Best" Class that Merle had signed them up for. They had no idea what to expect, really. The flier that had caught Merle's attention, and which he had carried around until tonight, really didn't give much in the way of explanation.
The class was supposed to be a place for men to meet, get to know each other, and learn how to be great daddies. It was supposed to be a place where they could ask questions, get advice, get tips, and get practice.
In contrast to the classes that they would go to later with Carol and Andrea—classes where they would all learn some apparently helpful tips for the actual birth of their children—this class was a mommy-free zone.
Daryl and Merle were early. They'd decided to make class nights a "brothers' night" while Carol and Andrea apparently celebrated a "girls' night" and did whatever it was that the two of them wanted or needed to do together. Merle and Daryl had grabbed pizza and, finding that Carol was at Andrea and Merle's house, they'd swung by Daryl and Carol's house to grab their beers and cups to go.
Now, they were killing time until it was time for the class. Both of them, if they were honest, were oddly nervous about the class. They didn't know what to expect, and they didn't know what might be expected of them. They didn't know how many men might be there, and if they might very well be the flunkies of the daddy class. If Daryl were being honest, there was something deep down inside of him that actually worried about what might happen if they did flunk the class.
How would Carol feel if he flunked Daddy 101?
He was pushing his concern out of his mind with the help of the beer—which was actually his second of the night, since he and Merle had each had one to wash down the pizza earlier—and with doing his best to pay a suitable amount of attention to Merle's story.
"Carol gets them lists goin' sometimes," Daryl said, building connection with his brother over the shared married experience. "Like—you sure you aren't lookin' at this spot right here and rethinking our whole marriage?"
Merle laughed.
"It's like—Sugar—I just don't get bothered by the shit that, apparently, you think is botherin' other people. Like I don't give a damn if you fart. You slammed that bean burrito like a fuckin' champion. I was proud of you. But your ass is just as human as I am, and I know what the hell's gonna happen when you're digestin' that big ass pile of refried beans. And—hell—I want you to be comfortable. Don't keep that shit inside feelin' bad all night. If you make the damn window panes rattle, I'ma laugh like hell, but that's about it. Damn, Sugar, me too…and we gonna roll the damn windows down and go on about it or whatever. And—I mean—it's one of them things that when she was on her damn period we just got my dick a damn lil' rain jacket to wear an' he went on about his business. Ain't lettin' a little crimson rain slow down a Saturday night. Get that ratty ass towel an' we gonna go at it. It don't turn me off until you start tellin' me that it oughta turn me off for like a half a damn hour."
Daryl laughed, wiping at his eyes for the fact that Merle's long-running speech about insecurities had his eyes leaking tears. Merle was only egged on by Daryl's amusement, and he continued his rant against the injustices done to him as a husband of a wife who was, at the moment, apparently plagued by insecurities that simply wouldn't be soothed.
"Fuckin'—but you sit there an' make me listen to a two-hour long laundry list of every damn thing you picked out that supposed to make me leave home or some shit. And it's like—Andrea…my damn dick didn't go soft 'cause I got a problem with the dimples you tellin' me you got on your ass. My dick went soft because the fucker lost interest and fell asleep when he figured out we were just talkin' about your ass, but he weren't gettin' any tonight. Asshole give up. Look at him…he's fuckin' sad. That's like a depression coma or some shit…not a sign that he don't want a piece of ass because of some damn dimples."
Daryl laughed right along with Merle, and he lit another cigarette for himself.
"I swear—sometimes it's like you wanna say I'm pretty fuckin' clueless about most shit. Like—you tell me that gross shit is happenin' or whatever, or there's somethin' unattractive, but it's just somethin' that's there, and it don't really matter," Daryl agreed.
"I want a damn get outta jail free card," Merle teased. "Maybe I could just give her the damn card when she gets started and it's just got the rule that—we gotta fuck first, and then if you still feel like tellin' me all the reasons I'm not gonna wanna fuck you no more, then you can tell me afterwards…when my ass is asleep or eatin' some post-fuck pork skins or somethin'. Give me somethin' to do while I'm listenin' to all the shit that's supposed to make me file for divorce in the morning, or run around, or something. Did I tell you about the bingo card?"
"No—what the hell'd you do with a bingo card?" Daryl asked.
Merle needed a moment to laugh to himself about whatever the hell he'd done, and Daryl allowed it. When he seemed in control of himself, he lit a cigarette and started the story with a deep breath.
"I was fuckin' around makin' these bingo cards a couple damn weeks ago. I don't know why. Just sittin' at the kitchen table an' she was worryin' around the house or somethin', and I just made 'em. One's a Peanut bingo card, one's a cheatin' bingo card, and one's a…I guess an ain't sexy bingo card. Filled 'em up with all the shit I hear all the time, you know? Like—all the reasons I'ma prob'ly cheat, or…hell…what she's worried about with Peanut an' me changin' my mind on Peanut—and hell if I even know. And there's one that's just the whole like…shit…damn dimples on my ass, and these jiggly bits and shit like that. So, anyway, I was makin' 'em to amuse myself one day while she was worryin' her way around the house. So—a couple damn nights ago, I'm sittin' there at the table an' I'm workin' a crossword puzzle, and she's been fussin' with shit in Peanut's little room. She comes on through the kitchen, and she's wearin' one of these cotton gowns she's got. Just—soft little things that's about like a big t-shirt. Ain't nothin' special, but they soft, and for some damn reason her titties is like cold through 'em. I don't know the science and shit, and I can't explain it, but I like fuckin' her when she's wearin' these lil' cotton gowns. I like rubbin' my face against her tits while she's wearin' 'em. So—she comes through the damn kitchen wearin' that gown and I was mindin' my damn business with the crossword puzzle, but my dick noticed the gown, you know? So, he's like—you think we could get a lil' bit of that? So, I just straight up asked her, you know? It's late, and we're both tired. Ain't no need in playin' around. I just say 'Sugar, you lookin' damn good…you needin' a lil' lovin' to help you sleep all right?'"
"Fair enough," Daryl said. "Go right to the damn point."
"Figure if she says no, we just go on with what we're doin', but if she says yeah, then we just go snuggle on the couch or…wherever the hell she wants it, you know? And I get what the hell I want and I just—put her ass right, you know? Get her what she needs to be walkin' all wobbly-legged and shit for the rest of the night. So—her ass gets started right away. Yeah, she says, she's feelin' super damn horny, but…"
"Oh fuck," Daryl said with a snort. "You got the damn 'but.'"
"Knew immediately I weren't gettin' none for like an hour at least. Had to go through an interview or somethin' to make sure my ass really wanted the piece of ass that I'd just asked for plain as day," Merle said. "So, I was immediately frustrated because that 'yeah' got my hopes an' my dick up for a minute. I was already sittin' on go, you know? Figured I was about to get just what the hell I wanted. So, when she started in on that 'but' shit, I was like hold on a minute…lemme get somethin'. My ass goes an' gets them cards I made fuckin' around. And I'm like spreadin' them shits out on the table like I'ma play bingo with some pocket change, and Andrea reads 'em and loses her shit."
"Son of a bitch," Daryl said with a laugh. "You're a dumbass, you know that?" He was only playfully scolding his brother. He knew that nothing irreconcilable had come from the incident or he would have heard about it by now, and Merle was laughing.
"I didn't get no ass at all that night," Merle said. "And she tore up my cards when I told her I got bingo based just on what the hell she'd said since I asked her if she wanted some lovin' 'cause I wanted to rub my damn face on her titties while she was wearin' that soft ass gown."
Daryl laughed.
"She tore your cards up?"
"Shredded 'em. Hulk-like, too. Growled at my ass while she was doin' it. I ain't never been so damn turned on in my life. Made me damn sorry she ain't wanted to angry fuck my ass. I'da let her kick my ass for a piece of angry pussy, and I'da thanked her, too."
"Jesus, Merle!" Daryl scolded, but he couldn't help but laugh. "You lucky she didn't pack shit up an' leave your asshole self," Daryl said. Merle was unbothered and still amused.
"She make-up fucked me the next mornin'," Merle said. "I still don't think she got my point, though, even after shreddin' up my damn bingo cards."
"Your little paper says fatherhood and marriage discussions and advice. Real talk," Daryl said. "Maybe somebody in there's got the same problem. We can ask 'em what the hell do you do to get 'em to understand that you don't need an itemized list because you weren't lyin' when you said you don't give a shit, or you aren't bothered by something on the list."
"You think other people have the same problem?" Merle asked.
"I think you think Andrea's pretty damn special," Daryl said. "And I surely think that Carol is one-of-a-kind, but I'd be almost positive that there are other women out there who have some of the same hang-ups that they have. I don't think we found the only two in existence."
Merle hummed. He suddenly became a little more serious than he had been.
"I flunked a lotta shit in school because I just didn't give a damn," Merle said. "What if I flunk this shit 'cause I just ain't cut out for it?"
Daryl's stomach tightened. He didn't want to admit that he'd had the same kind of irrational thoughts. Still, it always seemed to help him deal with his own feelings when he felt like there was somebody else dealing with theirs and, in particular, someone who might benefit from him dealing with his own feelings.
"I don't think it works that way," Daryl said. "I don't think we can fail this class. And, even if we did? Fuck it—we just don't tell Andrea and Carol we flunked it. We'll figure it out on our own, if we do."
Merle laughed to himself.
"But we're always gonna know we flunked this shit," Merle said.
"But Peanut and Sprout won't know," Daryl said. "We'll just—go in there, and see what it's about. If we don't like it, hell…we'll drop out."
"Be fuckin' Daddy drop-outs," Merle said with a snort.
"Looks like there's people goin' in," Daryl said. "For this class or somethin' else, I don't know. But—you ready?"
Merle hesitated a moment. He took the flier from the dash and read it by the light that the parking lot lights provided.
"Fuck it," he said. "I'm ready. If they got answers for even half the damn questions I got, it'll be worth a couple afternoons here and there."
"Sounds like you got enough questions to graduate fuckin' suma cum laude," Daryl teased, opening the door. He did his best to swallow back his own nervousness over a class that he kept reminding himself was voluntary, not graded, and had no real bearing on his life if he didn't want it to have any, and he walked with Merle toward the Y, where he hoped other men just as damn clueless as them would be waiting.
