Author's Note: This is a story for my sister who wouldn't stop bugging me until I wrote her a Daryl/Rick story.

Storyline loosely based off of the Teahouse comic series, which I do not own. Nor do I own The Walking Dead or any of its characters.

In this story I will not pursue any relationships apart from Daryl and Rick.

"Ain't you got a customer to be dealing with or sumthin'?" Merle called from his seat behind his desk on the far side of the ornately decorated room. Merle put his money aside on the desk, he could count it later. For now, he had business to attend to.

Daryl pulled his eyes from the gold trim of the ceiling to look his at his elder brother, but made no move to respond. After a moment or so of staring at his sibling, Daryl moved his eyes back up to the ceiling and took a sip from the whiskey bottle clutched in his hand. He settled back against the large leather couch, and tried his best to ignore the moans, both of pleasure and of pain, emanating from the rooms upstairs. The constant creaking of the bed posts made that a difficult task.

Merle's jaw stiffened; he didn't like being ignored.

"Boy, you best have sumthin' better to do besides layin' aroun' drinkin' my whiskey." Daryl knew where this was headed.

"Check the book, Merle," he said bitterly, "I'm done for the day." Merle opened up the massive brown leather book on his desk and fervently flipped to Daryl's section. He found the schedule for today, and after staring at the white space between his appointments, slammed the book shut.

On the other side of the room, Daryl stood, sensing the repetitive argument that would soon ensue, he headed towards the bar and replaced his empty whiskey bottle with a new one. There had been hardly any left in the last one, and he wanted nothing more right now than to be very, very, drunk.

Merle leaned back in his large wooden chair, and bit at his nails on the only 'good' hand he had left. With his other arm, which he had lost long ago and had replaced with an ornate golden blade. He began cutting little lines into the wood of his desk, leaving wood dust scattered around the edge of it. His eyes were dark, darker than usual. His blood was boiling at the thought of lost money.

It'd been years since Merle had started his own whore house, the Golden Blade, which he named after his own golden blade. He found the name humorous in the fact that he ran a brothel consisting of all male attendants. Business was booming, but it never was quite booming enough for Merle's taste.

"Tell me sumthin' lil brother," Merle began in a low voice that faintly reached Daryl's ears, "why is it that my own flesh and blood," Merle continued in a voice that held the faintest echo of menace in it, "is trying to sabotage my business, hmm?"

Daryl leaned his elbows onto the smooth marble tabletop of the bar. He put his face in his hands and sighed deeply. "I'm not sabotaging anything," he said, his voice muffled by his hands and his words slurred ever so slightly by the alcohol.

"Well, you sure as hell ain't helping it grow, now are ya?" Merle said, his voice rising steadily as he went, "Day after day, you pass up customers, and why?! Because yer a particular little whore?" Merle finally stood from his seat, and began walking slowly across the room towards the bar. "You've got some regulars, lil brother but they ain't enough anymore-"

"I don't do men," Daryl finally said, pulling his head from his hands and turning to face the man moving towards him.

"Yeah, well, yer gonna start," Merle said, the darkness in his eyes growing deeper. The brother stared at each other, each one knowing a fight was coming on, each one thinking of a dozen different ways to counter the other's attacks, each one thinking of how to best the other.

At that moment, however, the darkness in Merle's eyes was abruptly lightened, and Daryl relaxed at the sight of a would-be customer just inside the entrance. Merle looked over his shoulder at the man, and ground his teeth, but put on a smile, "I'll be right over," he said.

The man had a tall, lean frame, with longer-than-usual brown, curly hair that was pushed back neatly. Daryl could see the icy blue of his eyes even from across the room.

Merle turned back to his younger brother, his smile dropped instantly, and the darkness flooded back into his eyes as he pointed at Daryl and said, "Now you listen to me boy," Daryl couldn't seem to take his eyes off the man, who was beside the desk, looking around at the décor, which was reminiscent of the renaissance, and feigning disinterest in the dispute just across the way from him. The man, whom Merle knew as Rick Grimes, one of the most wealthy and well regarded men in the town, couldn't hear the end to the argument, Merle made sure to whisper. "The next time a paying cock walks in here," Merle looked Daryl dead in the eye, "you'll be taking it up the ass."

A moment later Merle had turned away from him and was headed toward the stranger that Daryl was transfixed on, "Rick," Merle said with a cackle and a smile as he held out his good hand to the other man and brought the other man in for a quick embrace.

"Evenin' Merle," Rick replied with a small smile.

"You in to see Shane again?" Merle asked as he stepped back behind his desk and opened up his schedule book again and flipped to Shane's log this time. He felt a slight pain in the contrast of how completely filled his other worker's day had been in comparison to his brother's. That would change soon though if Merle had anything to say about it.

Rick kept a polite smile on as his eyes met Daryl's. Daryl hadn't moved from his place against the bar and when Rick smiled at him, he just stared, his eyes practically squinting as he looked the man over.

He tried to imagine himself with, on, or in the man….

He just couldn't do it.

After another moment, he shook his head and turned back to his whiskey bottle.

"Now then," Merle said, "Shane's just finishing up with his last appointment now, it should be anytime-" Merle was interrupted by the swinging of a large door followed by the sound of heels on the stairs. In another moment, a cloaked figure, which was obviously a woman, appeared at the foot of the grand staircase.

Rick kept the polite smile on his face, though the woman, completely covered in a dark blue fabric, sped out of the foyer and slammed the great door behind her. Rick lost his smile finally, though even he wasn't sure why.

Merle smiled, "Alright, Shane's all done," his words hung in the air bitterly, "you can go up and see him now." Rick nodded and walked over to the base of the staircase to see his longtime friend, "Just," Merle continued, "don't' keep him up too long, he's got a busy schedule tomorrow." Rick nodded as he ascended the stairs and stepped into Shane's room.

As soon as the door was shut, Merle burst out in a fit of laughter that forced him to sit down lest his knees buckle from his enjoyment. As he began to quiet down and wipe the tears from his eyes, Daryl turned and gave him a glare, "What's so damn funny?" He asked, his words filled with slurs and bitterness.

"That woman," Merle burst out in a fit of laughter again and it took several more moments for him to regain himself, "that woman," Merle pointed toward the door where she had left, "was his wife." Merle pointed up toward the staircase Rick had just ascended, and promptly broke out in a hushed chuckle, clutching his stomach to calm himself.

Daryl just stared at the great door, grinding his teeth. He took one last sip of whiskey as Merle finally grew silent. Daryl wiped his mouth on the collar of his flannel cutoff shirt, and glanced up at the stairs, biting his lip at the thought of Rick Grimes.