Rodney Willis Dixon
Little test run for my Dixon brother OC, Rodney. Also promised myself no more WIPs till I get the last chapter of Vintage out, but I never said anything ‘bout Tumblr posts...
Enjoy the little snippet from 1x02.
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Rodney loves his brothers.
As often as Merle goes off he tries to do right by them, not for every time but often enough. Even if Rodney’s telling himself that after Merle’s gone and done something to turn things belly-up: getting himself and Daryl fired, turning a quiet night loud because he had to get them into some fight.
That second one’s not as often, mostly with Rodney not being around enough to get in any fights.
End of the world’s sure making up for that, though, and Rodney’s on one of those kicks where he just wants miles between him and his oldest brother.
The rooftop’s hot, stinging his eyes and plastering his hair. Merle’s already thrown out some of his arsenal of slurs, is getting T-Dog wrangled to the ground and stuffing punches into the shouting T-Dog’s giving. Everyone else is springing in, getting elbowed back—no clue where the cop came from, but he gets checked across some pipes pretty fast—so Rodney slips in and fingers Merle’s iron from his waistband, just as his brother’s grabbing for it.
He gets Rodney’s wrist instead, and Rodney’s too hot to feel the cold that still swishes down his guts like ice water at the sour look. If he were a kid he might’ve cried off, let go and scuttled out of whacking reach; but he keeps ground and grip, shaking his head in warning because of all the fights Merle’s picked at the quarry, this is going too far.
Merle hones in on what, to him, is the bigger issue.
"You keep forgettin’ who’s in charge, little brother," he says, that tone like Rodney’s seven again and not twenty.
Whatever Merle’s going to warn him off with, the cop returns and cuts that short; clocks Merle with the butt of the spare rifle that’s been loaned for the run, and cuffs him to the pipe.
And, well.
World’s ended, but some things haven’t changed.
