Chapter Text
The Dixons were more of a species than a family. What made them so different from other lineages was their constant need for cruelty. Daryl knew this all too well. He always hoped to be distant from his father. He could see it in merle, people could see it in him. The side glances. The stares. Mother's hurriedly pushing their children farther away from him.
He didn't even blame them. A redneck. And a fairy. He was truly what the majority feared. Though his sexual preference isn't obvious at first glance, he feels like they all know. Every watchful eye sees it.
A year ago he decided to change his life. His brother in prison. His father in hell. He had no one to fall back on. Part of him missed the support of his father, though it usually came in beatings and slurs; he was happy to have a roof over his head.
The thing that really encouraged his new found change was the call he received a few months after his father's death. It was some chick named Sandra, but more importantly she was a cps worker. He had a cousin up north, one he hadn't seen in decades. Apparently cousin jimmy had a son, about 13 years old. Daryl wasn't surprised that he hadn't known about his existence. He also wasn't surprised to find that cousin jimmy was in jail for nearly beating the kid to death. It's something that came with being a Dixon. Sandra had detailed that Daryl was the only relative available to take in the kid, all others either on a list, dead, or in jail.
Obviously he said he couldn't. But when she started explaining that the kid would otherwise be left in the system, he foolishly said he'd arrange something. By the end of the call he had managed to basically adopt a kid. He drank a lot that night.
Daryl met Carol at an AA meeting. He didn't really know why he had even gone. He was contempt living in the streets, sleeping on the couch of whoever his last one night stand was. But Carol was different, she wasn't soft. She would tell him what he needed to do and how. She wasn't mean like his father, but stern. A woman who had been through enough to know what she needs.
Three weeks into the weekly meetings, Carol offered him her couch. She was a recent widow. Her husband died of throat cancer. Though Carol wasn't all that upset about it. She didn't talk much about her ex-husband, just that he was a bad man.
He stayed on her beaten down sofa for four months. The house had been older, but it fit Carol well. All counters and flooring met the walls with a beautiful twinge of uniqueness. All except Sophia's room. Wall to wall was bright pinks along with whatever she could paint on the walls. She was a sweet little girl. Daryl had never been very adept at children but Sophia was different; she wasn't as loud or chaotic as other kids. Though this most likely was because of the way her father had treated her, Daryl chose not to linger on that particular thought long.
After four months Daryl found a mechanic downtown. Within a week the owner of the shop, Eric, offered him a job. Daryl said yes the second he asked.
Six months later with only a little help from Carol he got an apartment. His own studio to do whatever the fuck he wanted. For the first time since probably ever, he felt free.
He was able to make his own food, watch what he wanted, sit where he wanted, talk as loud as he wanted and invite whoever he wanted over. He loved his new place.
The only downside was that it made hime realize just how alone he was. Without merle he didn't really have a reason to seek out other people. Sure he had Carol, Eric, and Jesus. But he didn't have anyone that truly was close to him. The apartment had an extra room, undoubtedly saved for the kid he would at some point be taking care of. He had a lot of room. Too much room.
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Today he came into work late. Though his drinking habits have gotten better, he still likes to have fun. His hangover this morning was annoying to say the least. He came into work 45 minutes late after sitting next to the toilet for 20 minutes feeling like he was going to vomit.
But nevertheless he made it to work. Walking in Jesus was the first to greet him. Though the greeting was just a simple " look who decided to show up". Daryl still counted it as a nice gesture.
The day had been slow, he had to replace a tire this morning but that was about it. Noon was rapidly approaching which for Daryl meant lunch.
He was looking at the only other vehicle brought in today, an old jeep.
Jesus was running the counter so he could work quietly in the back. His head still hurts like a bitch. Two Advil and three cups of water didn't fix much. All he had going was the small hand-rolled joint in between his fingers. Jesus was nice enough to let him have a few hits.
As he looked over the chipped paint of the jeep he heard the bell on the shop door ring. He then heard Jesus gasp in an almost concerning manner.
Daryl waited for the conversation with whoever was at the counter to begin.
"How can I help you.. officer?" Jesus asked, a special emphasis on the officer part.
Daryl didn't respond immediately, forgot he was actively committing a crime.
It took until Jesus brought the man through the door to the back that he remembered the joint laid in his fingers. He held it behind his back.
"Hey, Daryl Mr. Policeman here is looking for.. what was it again?" Jesus said turning his head back towards the man.
The cop stands tall. In full uniform, he looks menacing; how he's intended to look. Daryl eyes however get caught on his face. He has a small amount of facial hair that compliments his haircut in an almost rugged way. If Daryl wasn't afraid of cops he'd find him quite attractive.
" Uh, well my son wants a bike for his birthday, I mean not a real bike, I'd be okay with anything that moves honestly." The cop says scratching his neck as if he's nervous.
" Daryl you got this right" Jesus asks without really asking.
" Uh, sure" he responds, silently cursing Paul for making him deal with this. As the cop begins to look closer at Daryl he makes the decision to quickly put the joint out on his hand, briefly burning the skin, then letting it fall to the floor unnoticed.
"Oh I'm Rick, grimes," The cop starts reaching his hand out in a mock polite gesture. The cop keeps staring at him. Daryl awkwardly exepts the hand shake.
" Shit man, is your hand okay?" The cop, Rick asked looking at the burn mark that's currently red and blistering.
To this Daryl starts getting a bit nervous.
" Uh yea' just burnt it on a tail pipe or sumthin'" shit. He couldn't have come up with a worse lie. The circular burn is clearly from a cigarette of sorts. He just hopes the cop is truly clueless enough to not know what a tail pipe looked like.
" Sure..." He says suspiciously. Shit. " Uh anyways I need something like, somewhat kid safe. But also something fast. Not a motorcycle but something similar?" He asks, sounding more like begging than anything.
" So like a dirt bike?" Daryl says a little to monotone sounding. He can't tell if this guy is just nervous or really dumb.
" Yeah, that sounds perfect.." he says still stampering over his words. Daryl somewhat curses this guy for sounding like a good dad. He can't tell if it's jealousy or just his hatred for pigs.
" I don't think we got none' on hand but if you ask Jesus over there to put an order in, should be in by next week" Daryl says, trying to sound a bit more at ease.
"Well, thank you so much..." Rick says obviously waiting for daryl to tell him his name.
Daryl sighs, knowing he'll have something to say.
" Daryl, Dixon" he cringes, waiting for Rick to either call him a slur or talk shit about merle.
" Oh, I knew I recognized you. Listen man, I'm so sorry about your dad. It must be hard having that shit happening with your own brother involved" Rick sounds genuinely sympathetic.
" I sure don't miss em'" Daryl says under his breath.
Daryl knows the truth of just why merle did what he did. Just another Dixon secret that nobody needs to know about. He just wishes merle didn't have to go down with the secret.
" Well thank you for the help, Daryl. I'll see you next week" Rick stands with his hands on his hips, almost as if he's waiting for Daryl to say something else. When he doesnt ricks face turns red and he turns and walks back to the entrance of the shop.
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Daryl waits 15 minutes to go talk to Jesus.
" Never had a cop in here before, weird, he seemed nice enough though" Jesus began the conversation.
" Yeah a little warning next time maybe" Daryl lifts his hand showing him the burn. Jesus winces and slips out an apology, reaching under the counter to grab at the first aid kit they keep under the desk.
" Guy kept looking at me funny," Daryl continue as
Jesus addressed the burn.
" Probably thought you were cute" Jesus grinned.
" Yeah right, he mentioned a son like twelve times. Where there's a son there's a wife. Also he's a cop." Daryl said closing his eyes waiting for his still remaining headache to subside.
" Wow, gay people can't have kids? Cops can't be gay? What year is it Dixon? Also ain't you getting a kid?" Jesus smirks.
" That's different man, I ain't nobody's house wife. The kids just got no where else to go." Daryl rebuttals
" I mean never said you weren't doing a good thing, anyway all this gay talk, you busy tonight?" Paul looks up away from the bandaid placed carefully across Daryl's thumb to look him in the face.
" Woah, take a guy out to dinner first" Daryl half laughs, mainly just trying to fuck with Paul.
" Fuck you, you know what I mean! Jimmy's is reopening tonight and I want to get waisted then find some bodybuilder to take home" Jesus laughs.
" Are you buying? Cause then I might be able to arrange some things"
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The night started out well, the bar was at least somewhat empty. Daryl was happy about that, Paul wasn't.
" Fuck man, where are all the young people in this city?" Paul whined. Putting his head down in the counter. Beer in hand.
Daryl, content, took another sip of his drink.
" Probably at clubs or party's not a bar that smells like a burnt down locker room" daryl laughs barley buzzed
" Watch your tounge Dixon" Jimmy, the owner and bartender, chimes in. Daryl knows his words hold no validity. He's been coming here since he was fourteen. Jimmys an asshole, but he'd never fuck with Daryl or merle. He knows much better than that.
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20 minutes later, Daryl still isn't drunk but at least blissfully tipsy. Jesus is still rambling on about some shit Daryl lost interest in, when Daryl's phone starts ringing. He holds it up to his ear lazily and presses the "accept call button".
" Uh, hello?"
"Hi is this Daryl Dixon?"
" Yup, whoes this?"
"This is Sandra we talked a few months back?"
" Oh, yeah... the girl with cps?"
"Yup!, So I was just calling you so you know that sam is being dropped of at your residence this Saturday."
" Oh, um, okay, yeah"
" We have some very brief paper work to fill out and I can help get sam settled in and show you his medication schedule"
" Yeah okay, uh you said this Saturday?"
" Yes, I'll call again tomorrow just to confirm some things, so have a good night Daryl!"
"Yup you to"
The phone makes a click and Sandra voice is gone.
Daryl should be panicking but instead he just lays his head on the bar counter and sighs.
" What was that about?" Paul asks.
" Oh the kids getting dropped of in a few days" Daryl replies not understanding the emergency of the statement.
"Fuck man do you have stuff ready?"
Paul asks, for once sounding sincere.
" Like what?" Daryl asks unaware of why Paul seems concerned.
" I don't know, kid shit. Do you even have like a bed for him?"
Oh. Fuck.