He's Just a Baby

All I Needed Was You

Trigger Warnings for assault, abuse, and more. I've added a warning just before it starts, so please feel free to scroll by if you are uncomfortable with any of the above.

"I can't keep defending you from him all the time," a young Merle muttered as he idly kicked a stray can down the empty road next to their small house. A trembling Daryl sat on the edge of the curb a little bit behind his brother, his knees pulled into his chest as he fought the tears threatening to pour from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say, although he knew the words were useless after what had happened.

"Saying sorry doesn't excuse what'cha are."

Daryl and Merle had been kicked out of the house for a night, maybe two; being kicked out had actually been a lot better than what could've happened though.

Daryl had almost gotten his arm snapped in half. If Merle hadn't jumped in and redirected their father's anger at the last second, who knows what could have happened.

Daryl had giggled. That was the reason his dad had gotten so upset. He hadn't mean to, really, it had just slipped out randomly when he had been sat down against the once of the walls of the main room, watching a roly-poly skitter across the old floors. When it ran into one of the small sugar ants that had been crawling by, it curled into a tight ball and froze still, making Daryl let out a small laugh at its stupidity. His dad, who had been sprawled out on the couch nearby, drunk as a skunk, had heard it.

He'd never seen the man move so fast in his life.

Daryl had managed to push away practically all signs of being a little-except bed wetting-since he had been classified almost six months ago, and since then he'd managed to fly under his dad's radar, not getting beaten or shamed as much for what he was. Afterall, his dad and mother were always so drunk he was sure they completely forgot his classification at times, unless he did something obvious to call their attention to it.

But all of a sudden, gone was the beer in his dad's hands, and the dozed off look as he started at the TV. In a split second he had been pinned to the floor, his right arm twisted behind painfully his back, all for displaying even the smallest little characteristic.

If it hadn't been for Merle, who had come running into the room at the sound of his little brother's screams, his arm would have been gone for sure. But instead of letting his dad finish the job, Merle had thrown an empty beer can at his back, making the man look up with rage, Daryl's arm still hyperextended in his grasp.

"You're missin' your football game," is all Merle had said. And for some reason, those words seemed to be enough for the older Dixon, as he gave Daryl's arm one more squeeze before letting it drop limply to the floor, bruises already forming from the tight grip. It was like Merle's words had hypnotized him.

The man stood up and shuffled back to the couch, his greasy forehead and hair adding to the dazed look in his eyes. Daryl tried desperately to muffle small whines as he did so.

"Ya two gedout," said the man with a gruffy, sluggish voice as he sat back down with a creak and reached back over to his half empty beer. He took a sit and turned back to the TV, acting as though the whole event had never even happened. Merle didn't need to be told twice, already grabbing Daryl by the collar of his shirt and tugging him out of the house before the younger could let free a cry of pain. This wasn't their first rodeo; they'd been kicked out plenty of times.