Chapter Text
“You ain’t goin’ to that’stupid test thing, ‘n that’s final.” Will Dixon slurred, bear bottle limp in between his fingers. Merle’s in prison, has been for the week, as Daryl’s being trying to scrounge the bail money for the third time that year.
Daryl’s eighteen, on the cusp of manhood with a body filled out and a hint of baby-innocence still lingering on his face. His hair is dusty blonde, and he’s slim yet muscular from Merle’s help. He has his bow, Merle’s old one, but with his big brother gone; Daryl’s forced to stay with his dad.
He’d try running off, multiple times, but something deeply uncomfortable that nestled between his rib cage would poke and stab, until he was back at the dust-old and dirty apartment. To make sure his daddy was okay.
Daryl’s always knew he had a heart too large for a Dixon.
This day, a random Tuesday where Daryl had woke up to the Tv too loud and his mattress-on-the-floor soaked with blood from his nose and knuckles, his dad had taken a look at him, scowled, and said what he had.
“You hear me, boy?” Will Dixon sneered. Daryl nodded quick from the doorway. “You ain’t going. In fact, stay here with your Pop’s tonight.” Daryl was never invited to stay round, let alone for the night. Will Dixon had continuously spat and grumbled at Daryl’s staying. Since Daryl could remember, his daddy never wanted him around.
That’s what made the day so confusion.
Daryl knew nothing of any ‘stupid test thing’ that he was obviously supposed to attend, or why his dad seemed so nice all of a sudden. Or, as nice Will Dixon could get by any standards.
Daryl hadn’t been to school since he was six-nearly-seven years old, and the last ‘test’ he had ever took was spelling. He was ass at it, failed, and his daddy pulled him from the school weeks later. Or, Merle had said it was their dads decision at least. Their twenty year age gap had Merle pretending to be Daryl’s daddy many’a times.
So, Daryl knew of no test, has no interest in one, and tried not to smile as his daddy ordered him to grab himself a beer from the fridge.
-
Daryl sat at his dads feet, the pizza box drawing empty quick. Face and hands covered in grease, Daryl glanced up at his drunk dad lying on the sofa, taking up the entire space.
They’re watching sport, the kind his dad likes. Daryl’s not sure what it is, and thinks his dad is probably the only person on earth to be watching this shitty channel. His dad didn’t do much of anything outside watch shitty tv and drink. Like all Dixon’s, he was a good-for-nothing lazy cow, with an alcoholic’s addition to drugs. He had Merle on it when he was younger than Daryl, and had his own share of hookers come ‘round regularly. Daryl wasn’t sure he ever saw his daddy leave the house, but Merle had always said “Daddy taught me this” when Daryl was small and needed to be taught how to hunt. So, he must have gone out for Merle, but not for Daryl.
Daryl tried not to think about /that/.
His dads eyelids were slits, sliding closed yet open just that smidge enough to watch the game if anything happened. Merle wouldn’t fall asleep on him like that, only if he was high would he do that. Their daddy just never cared.
His dad spluttered a cough, and woke up a little. As Daryl chewed the greasy cuticles of his fingers, like an anxious child waiting for punishment, Daryl puffed his chest out a little a braved his voice.
“Dad,” Daryl started, and earned no reply. “What was that test thing ya’ mentioned earlier?” He continued anyway, and that caught the man’s attention.
Daryl couldn’t register his daddy sitting up or standing to backhand him across the face, but his cheek stung and there were tears welling in his eyes before he could think of it.
“Ya’ shut yer’ mouth about today, ya’ hear me?” Will Dixon slurred, and spat down at his youngest song.
Daryl nodded, not letting his tears fall, and as his daddy relaxed back into the sofa; Daryl stalked upstairs with a heavy chest, and locked himself in his room for the rest of the night.
-
Merle got out, and Daryl spilled it all to him.
How his daddy didn’t let him leave the house, using that as an ‘excuse’ to not having the bail money sooner. He’d scrounge money when their daddy was asleep, snoring and drunk and good enough dead. He had told Merle of the supposed test, and his older brothers jaw tightened.
“Best keep it that way, little brother.” Merle clapped Daryl on the shoulder, where they crouched around the fire in the middle of their woods. They had been out all day, and planned wordlessly to put off going back to the house as long as they could.
They hunted together, Daryl using his brother’s old bow that Merle had gifted the younger Dixon once he upgraded, and ate their game in relative silence.
Daryl’s brown furrowed.
“You taken’ it, Merle?” Daryl asked, his still high pitched with youth. Merle and their daddy’s voices were deep, Daryl’s still a lily of innocence. Merle called it his ‘pussy voice’, and that he’d sound like a man soon enough. He had said ‘soon enough’, three years ago.
“Nah. That’s pussy shit.” Merle spat on his other side. Daryl gutted his last few squirrels with skilled fingers. Daryl knew, that Merle’s deflection meant their daddy didn’t let him go either.
“Why?” Daryl asked with his southern lilt, placing his squirrels to the side as he looked to Merle with his big eyes.
Merle grumbled, hands fidgeting.
“It’s a classification test, Daryl.” Merle’s voice went quiet, and he glanced around a little as if aware someone was watching, and would spring on them. It wouldn’t have been the first time, but never in the middle of the woods, not like this. “Ya’know what all that means, yeh?”
Daryl nodded, slightly. He knew a bit. School hadn’t covered much of it when he was there, and hadn’t been there for so long he barely remembered much.
“Bigs ‘n stuff, yeh?” Daryl asked, and it was one of the very few moments the two brothers had a proper conversation.
Merle kissed his teeth, and spat again. A bit of tiny animal bone spat past his lips.
“Yeah. ‘Bigs ‘n stuff.’” Merle glanced away, and back again. “Daddy don’t like that sorta thing. Thinks it’s all a ploy, ‘stupid government and their stupid goddamn rules!’” Merle made his voice deeper, louder. It was an imitation of their dad, and a good one at that.
Daryl snorted, laughlessly.
“Dixon men don’t believe in that shit. Don’t get yer panties ina twist, Darleena.” Merle smirked, and Daryl scowled at the stupid nickname.
“Shut it.” He snarled, and Merle laughed.
So, Daryl forgot about the stupid test and the weeks of being locked away from the public. If his head got fuzzy, he’d ignore it with distraction in huntin’ or running errands for Merle. He’d ignore people anyway, anyone that wasn’t his dad or older brother, so there was nobody there to ask ‘Hey Daryl, you feeling okay’ and nobody there to comment on how weird Daryl was acting.
But then the world ended, and Merle was gone, and it all went to shit.