Oh, fuck, Merle's here.
Daryl hears yelling and runs to the door just in time to see Sasha on the ground with a split lip, and his brother beating the shit out of his friend, Ty. He stands there, frozen, and suddenly he's nine years old again, when Merle beats another friend of Daryl's, a Mexican boy, screaming racist hate.
That's not all Merle, does. He tells their father Daryl's befriended a "wetback," and then takes off so he doesn't have to witness the consequences of having told Will Dixon about his friend. Merle's rated him out and it gets him a beating with a leather belt, the buckle, and fresh cuts on his back. It's one of the worst of Daryl's life.
"What's the matter with you, boy?" Will shouts, spittle flying in Daryl's face. "Why you always hanging out with niggers and wetbacks, and chinks! How many times I gotta tell you not to mix with their kind?"
Merle, the big brother who always supposedly looked out for Daryl, had betrayed him to their father, then abandoned him to a beating.
When Daryl pulls out of the memory, he realizes he's not nine years old anymore, his daddy is dead, God don't rest that bastard's soul, and he doesn't have to stand by while Merle costs him another friendship. He also realizes he's just standing there like a useless lump.
It takes everything to defy Merle. He had a deep-rooted fear of his brother, but it's time to man up, take a stand, especially since Merle's about to fucking kill Ty.
"Merle!"
He hauls Merle away from Ty. He ignores Merle's hate speech about how he's dirtying up their pure white blood with nigger filth, and he hates his brother.
"Sasha…"
There's mistrust and loathing in Sasha's eyes when she looks at him. He feels like he's worth less than a wooden nickel. She thinks he's a coward. She's right. He's always been cowed by his brother. She thinks he's a racist and that's why her didn't step in, but she's wrong about that. He can read her like an open book. She's done with him.
"Stay away from me."
She wants out. This is her chance, she's grading for it. He's gonna let her go. He backs away. He stays between Merle and Ty until the cops come and listen to his drunken rants full of old southern hate and prejudice. He wants them gone. He wants them all gone.
Daryl's frozen in place, torn between a desire to part his lips and deepen the kiss, or just pulling away from her and leaving. The smart thing, he's sure, would be to leave, because they may have finally said why they broke apart but he doesn't feel they've said enough.
"I ain't no racist," he finally manages.
"I'm not a snob," she counters. "I didn't want out."
They're breathless, both from the fight and the kiss, and she's still got her arms around him. He's standing with his back ramrod straight and his chin up, but he's starting to cave.
"What do you want?" he finally asks.
"I wanted to know why you didn't come back," she answers. "Now I know, and you were wrong. I've never thought I was better than you. I loved you."
He swallows hard and he starts to soften in his stance. He leans forward just a little. She actually said she loved him. At one time that had been true. Not now, but at least he knew she had.
"I was scared of Merle," he says. "I hesitated because I was a coward, just like you thought."
"You overcame it," Sasha counters. "You stopped him from killing Ty and hurting me. You didn't come to court and try to argue for leniency."
"I lost you 'cause of him. I didn't want leniency for Merle after that," says Daryl.
He leans forward when she urges him into a hug. He puts his arms around her, feeling her warmth, her softness, every curve. She smells like flowers and fresh air. Daryl's sure he's making a mistake right now, by not fighting when he feels her lips against his ear, and hears her voice whisper.
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
"Me too," he says.
A second later they're kissing again. This time it isn't closed-mouthed and awkward. It's hot and fiery, like their kisses had been before that terrible day, when he'd let her down. Daryl pulls back, needing to get some air. He's almost dizzy with the euphoria of kissing her, holding her again, feeling her against him and tasting her on his lips.
"I started to come by a few times," Daryl admits. "I always pussied out."
"We're both guilty of starting to reach out and then giving up out of fear," she says. "What do you say we don't make those mistakes again?"
He no sooner nods than he's kissing her again, pushing her against the wall while their hands fumble to get clothes out the way. He's got just enough presence of mind to make sure the bathroom door is still locked before he shoves her jeans down and helps her get one leg out of them. Sasha's hands are busy, undoing his belt, unzipping him, shoving down his jeans and pulling his hardened member free from his boxers. She strokes him, stares him in the eye.
"I'm ready," she whispers in a lust-choked voice.
A low growl of need escapes Daryl. He hoists her up, which isn't hard to do considering how light she is, and feels her fingers grip his shoulders for balance, but he hesitates before pushing in.
"I loved you too," he says.
"Baby," Sasha whispers, her lips against his. "I still love you."
Daryl can't wait another second. He pushes into her, hard, deep, hearing her hiss as she takes him inside. He's home again. Finally, after a year of loneliness and missing her, he's finally home again. He squeezes his eyes closed, tries to fight the swell of emotions that threaten to finally crumble his already fragile heart.
"Me too," he whispers, over and over again while he moves inside her.
She's got her fingers tangled in his hair, she moves her hips, squeezes her thighs, drives him crazy while he drives into her. She whispers his name, kisses his face, holds him close until the moment comes when he can't hold back. She's already climaxed, he's already felt the flutters of her orgasm around him. When she says it again, Baby, I love you, he can't hold back. He opens his eyes and stares into hers as he comes.
Home again. He's finally come home again.
Daryl and Sasha emerge from the bathroom, and he sees a 'Out of Order' placard hanging from the knob, and snorts. That had to be Shane Walsh. Nobody else would do something like that to ensure he and Sasha worked things out in peace.
"Wanna dance?" Sasha asks.
"Maybe another night," he says. He was tired when he got there, and now he's exhausted. Plus, he just wants to be alone with Sasha. "Wanna get out of here?"
She watches Shane in a dark corner, kissing some blonde woman, and Rick and Michonne are still swaying slowly on the dance floor. She's not in the mood to party, either, and she knows what Daryl really wants: Her, alone. She wants the same thing, too just have him all to herself, in some peace and quiet. None of their friends will notice them disappearing together for some time, or care when they do.
Sasha takes Daryl's hand in hers and squeezes.
"I thought you'd never ask."
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