Once again, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourite-ed and followed my work and page. It sure means a lot to me :)

To be honest, I've been on a bit of Bones marathon over the last few weeks, fitting it in and around Uni and placement, so TWD has been put on the backburner a little. But it's been nice to get back here to explore some more little moments between two of my favourite boys!

And I'm glad that you're all still enjoying the Merle/Daryl dynamic. Hopefully you'll enjoy this as well!

Just a quick disclaimer as well, since it seems the right thing to do around here: The Walking Dead and all affiliated characters and storylines do not belong to me in any way what so ever. I only claim what I have put into it!

(I'm probably going to come back tomorrow morning and regret writing and then posting this at 2:30 am, but here goes nothing.)

Thanks guys and enjoy!

**TWD**

When it came to speaking Daryl was what one would classify as a 'late bloomer'. The relatively normal age for first words had passed by and the small baby had remained silent, rarely uttering so much as a gurgle, a giggle or a groan. One year had dragged by in silence, and then two, Daryl still adamantly refusing to talk. Merle could still remember the conversations; his Pa complaining about retarded, good for nothing sons, and nosy shoppers who would whisper words like 'developmentally challenged,' and 'mute'.

In Merles mind though, no-one had ever really understood the real reason that Daryl chose not to talk.

But then again, no-one had ever really understood Daryl like Merle did.

To Merle, Daryl was probably the smartest person in the household, maybe the world. He didn't waste energy on talking, pleading, pandering to others egos. Words had never meant much to Merle and, in his experience, rarely did anything but get you into trouble. Merle was more of a take action kind of guy. He knew what he wanted and he'd do what was needed to get it. He actually respected the little boy for being able to hold his tongue. Words were there purely for entertainment, to joke and mock, perhaps to scare and intimate if he was in the mood. But they didn't mean anything. He'd heard too many broken promises, been witness to too many unanswered prayers, and seen too many desperate, unanswered pleas to really believe in the power of words. Only getting in there and doing something ever helped. Even if he was punished for his actions, at least the consequences felt worthwhile- like he'd accomplished something and the beatings weren't in vain.

By not speaking Daryl was avoiding all the trouble that words led to.

So that was why, at two and a half years old, his baby brother's first word came as such a core crushing, heart ripping, soul lifting surprise for Merle.

With a clarity that confirmed Merles belief that Daryl's lack of speech had been a choice, the toddler had reached up and touched his big brothers face, one word slipping through those tiny lips.

In that moment, Merle could have sworn his world had turned upside down. Burning pride and an unbelievable aching fondness for the toddler had warred with the thought that he should be feeling more appropriately Dixon responses like disdain and indifference. Soft feelings were for pussies and Merle was no pussy.

But as usual, those soft, familiar baby blues, and that cheeky, incorrigible grin had won out. He should have expected this; that once again this tiny human would be changing his world, wiggling his way further beyond Merles hard won walls. He should have expected that in the end Daryl would always come first in Merles world.

Just like Merle would always come first in Daryl's world.

"Merle," his little brother had gurgled.

"Merle."

Maybe there was more to this talking business than Merle had first thought.