[fic] Sometimes (I think I can dream) (Daryl/Glenn), The Walking Dead (TV Series) - 1/2
Title: Sometimes (I think I can dream)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/character(s): Daryl/Glenn, ensemble
Word count: ~18,000 (complete)
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except for the (really large amount of) gay porn.
Summary: Everybody wants to have somebody come back for them. Spoilers for all of season one.
Warnings: Bad words about not bad people, bodily secretions and (tons of) sex. Not necessarily in that order.
Notes: I planned to write porn with plot, but I guess I ended up with the porn only. Hmm, sorry? Title from If You Wanna I Might, by Hellogoodbye. One more thing: I read a couple of issues from the TWD comics, so there are some (really) vague references, but that's all.
Thanks to: laria_gwyn, who is a saint, hands down. She made this a lot clear and so much better. Remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Edit: A Korean version for this story, translated by wjdpduq, can be read here. Also, now a Chinese version, by veryK. Thank you both! ♥
Some things don't change.
It doesn't matter that the whole world went crazy and that people are now wandering around chewing other people up. You still need to eat. You still need to sleep. You need some company. Even if you don't get to live the way you did before, you still need those things, so you can at least try to survive. Daryl has his brother, he has his crossbow and he can shoot things up, so they get to eat. They watch each other's back so one of them can get his sleep and they keep on surviving.
Merle isn't an easy guy. Never was, Daryl knows that. But he's glad they have each other now. For awhile he thought he'd never see his brother again. Life had kept them apart. The dead brought them back together and Daryl's glad he gets to survive along with his brother. Merle doesn't get along with many people. He has his temper, his condition. But Daryl can handle both. It had never been a big problem before, before they could afford to be on their own.
Some things don't change, yes. But some things do get worse.
The geeks doubled, tripled, and they're now too many for his crossbow and for Merle's rifle. They had made their way to Atlanta and when they ran into this surveying group, they decided to stick around. There are now too many mouths for his crossbow to feed, but there are more pairs of eyes to watch over his sleep. Many different pairs of eyes, yes, but Daryl doesn't hate people as his brother seems to do. He loves his brother, yes, but he's just glad there are a few more people alive.
Even if a lot of them are Blacks or Latinos or Asians.
Well, one Asian only, actually.
To tell the truth, Daryl never had problems with Asian people. He had met very few of them, actually. There had been this family in his town. They had had a daughter who used to be the first one in Daryl's class, back then. She went to some fancy school out of the state to study to be a doctor after she graduated. She was cute, too, he remembers, even if it was in an Asian sort of way. Daryl has no idea if she's still around. Maybe she's working on this thing, trying to control it, to beat it. Maybe she's now wandering in the streets, trying to bite people.
Glenn looks smart, too. Not the doctor kind. More like those sidekicks in the superhero' movies Daryl used to watch when his girl couldn't talk them into seeing some romantic comedy bullshit. The kind of sidekick nobody gives a crap about who ends up saving the superhero's sorry ass at the last minute.
He's just a kid, though, Daryl thinks. He's just a kid and he does more than half of their group. Glenn leaves the safety of camp for several hours and goes to the city, and he comes back bringing supplies. Glenn is just like him, Daryl assumes. He doesn't stop, he's always doing something. Daryl doesn't know what kind of life the kid had before all this, but whatever it was, it taught him to do his part and Daryl appreciates this kind of people, doesn't matter what they look like. Daryl leaves the camp, too, to hunt, sometimes for a whole day or two. Sometimes Merle tags along, other times his brother stayed in the camp in order to fix up their truck, their tent. Sometimes Merle has a bad day and Daryl is afraid to leave him alone. Not just for Merle's sake.
On one particular day, though, his brother is feeling okay and he decides to stay and Daryl is halfway down the mountain when he hears a shout behind him.
"Hey!" Glenn breathes as he catches up with him. "You're going hunting." It's not a question.
Daryl nods, but doesn't say a thing. He and Merle have been in the camp for almost two weeks now. Daryl doesn't talk much. He knows people think he's just like his brother and he hasn't bothered to contradict them just yet. Daryl thinks it's easier this way. He's glad they're alive and all, but he doesn't want to get attached to these people and then have to watch them die eventually. Like he's had to do with his friends, his girl, his folks back home.
Glenn is not like the others, though. The kid doesn't push things. He doesn't try to make friends. He's nice and polite, does his part and knows how to keep it together. He seems like a good guy. It wouldn't hurt to be polite to him in return, Daryl considers, when he decides to open his mouth.
"Yeah, I-" Daryl replies a few seconds later, as they walk side by side down the mountain. "We could use some fresh meat, y' know." He smirks and Glenn shakes his head in agreement.
"I'm going for supplies. Blankets, toilet paper, stuff like that." He shudders, sticking his hands into his pockets. His empty backpack wiggles behind him.
Daryl doesn't know what else to say. Truth is, he isn't used to being nice to people who are so different from him. He forces a little smile and nods again, avoids Glenn's eyes. They stay silent for a minute or two until he hears the kid clearing his throat. Daryl looks back at him.
"Do you, hmm, do you need anything?" Glenn asks, staring straight forward so Daryl can't see his eyes. "From Atlanta, I mean." Daryl thinks he catches a bit of a stutter in his voice, but he's probably wrong. The kid probably is panting for the walk, that's all. Glenn doesn't have a reason to be nervous around him, does he?
"Hmm," Daryl starts to say. He runs a hand over his jaw, trying to think of something. His stubble's starting to itch, he notices. Well, why not. "Some shavin' cream would be nice, I guess."
Glenn nods and tips his baseball cap as he turns his back. They go their separate ways. Daryl catches himself smiling a bit. He realizes it later, but he shakes it off when he draws out his crossbow and hits a rabbit.
Daryl makes it back before Glenn.
He has been out for a whole day and night is already falling over the camp once he steps in. He vaguely wonders if the kid had a gun with him. He can't remember Glenn shooting anything and his backpack had looked pretty empty. He thinks that nobody deserves to be out there, in the dark, with nothing but the walkers for company. Daryl looks around as he and Merle clean off the half-dozen rabbits he had brought back. Nobody looks worried. They're all busy, looking over their husbands, wives, sons, daughters and friends. Though they all seem to like Glenn, he isn't their first concern. Neither is he Daryl's, but, well, Daryl wonders. The little man is completely alone.
"The Asian kid should have been back by now," he says to nobody in particular, but Merle frowns at his words.
"Ha, why do you care?" He grins as he disembowels a third rabbit with his knife. His hands are bloody and Daryl feels a little sick. He remembers when a bunch of walkers took his girl and two of his friends. He remembers the blood and the guts. Their dying screams. He has never heard Glenn even raise his voice. He can't imagine the kid screaming for his life.
"I don't." Daryl shudders. "'Just think it's weird."
Merle doesn't say another word, though he casts him a few weird looks, between gutting the two rabbits. Daryl ignores it. He doesn't care. He just thinks that the kid doesn't have anyone and that isn’t easy. It just feels like the right thing to do. To worry about him. Someone should.
When Glenn finally arrives, two and a half hours later, the stew is already boiling. Daryl notices him before the rest of the camp does and lets out a sigh of relief. He's glad Merle went to get some water, because when Glenn drops his full backpack at Moralles' feet, he heads directly in Daryl's direction. The kid has something in his hand and Daryl bites down a grin as he realizes what it is.
"It smells good," Glenn says by way of greeting.
"'Took your time down there, kid," Daryl replies, checking on the bowl over the fire.
"Well," Glenn says. He sits by Daryl's side. "Took me awhile to find it." He hands Daryl a new bottle of shaving cream. It still has the seal on it. "Hope this one is okay. It's the only one they had at the store."
Daryl stares at the bottle. He feels his throat shut. "Hmm, thanks," he finally manages.
Glenn smiles. "Hell with your thanks. Give me some of this stew. I'm starving."
Daryl feels grateful when he overhears Merle shouting at someone and he has an excuse to get up and do something rather than sit there, not knowing how to deal with the creepy warm feeling that has started to build up inside his gut.
Some things do change, Daryl realizes.
It doesn't matter if he doesn't get to worry anymore about running his dad's ranch. Finding and marrying the right girl and having a couple of kids. It all stayed in the past. Why should they worry about preserving the human race so the walkers could feed on what's left of them? Daryl doesn't get to plan ahead anymore, but then, none of them do.
He stays awake while his brother sleeps, he hunts and he cooks rabbits, squirrels and, when he gets very lucky, a deer and he sits tight and does his part and breaks up fights between Merle and the rest of the camp. He watches in silence as Glenn teaches the little ones to make a kite. And Daryl groans under his breath when the new guy, Shane, shows up and tells Glenn he doesn't think it's such a good idea to put the kite in the air.
Sometimes, Daryl jerks off.
It isn't about the immediate bliss, though. Not only the immediate bliss, anyway. Daryl has a wank every now and then because he likes not having to think about the world going crazy, even if it's just for a fading moment. When he is almost, almost there, his mind goes blank for a second, half a second, and then he's back at the ranch, sitting on the porch drinking a beer and eyeing that smart Asian girl riding her bicycle down to the store. The wind messing with her shiny, pitch black hair.
Daryl is having a nice, long wank the day he overhears something in the woods. He grunts, his cock pulsing hard against his fingers and he stops, trying to figure out where it came. That's the problem with having personal time. He can't shoot his crossbow with just one arm and he won't ask Merle to watch his back when he wants to get his rocks off. He's not that weird.
"Who's there?" Daryl calls out, but hears nothing but the wind whispering against the leaves. "Fuck." He grunts again and takes a deep breath. He needs to finish now or just let it go. And he has gone too freaking far to let it go. "'Kind of busy over here."
And then he hears it again. There's definitely something there. Daryl swears one more time and gets up from the rock he had been leaning against. He zippers his pants and draws out his crossbow, aiming a few yards down to his right, where the noise came from. He takes three steps and overhears a different sound; a muffling of fabric, maybe? Daryl speeds up and catches a glimpse of clothing between the trees. Well, whoever it is, they are trying to sneak away. Daryl considers letting them go, but they shouldn't have come here in the first goddamn place. He feels his sore balls inside his pants.
"Stop right there or I'll shoot. Don't care who you are, just turn real slowly."
Daryl can hear heavy breathing, now. Whoever it is, they are panting hard. Maybe it's a walker, but a walker wouldn't just do as they're told. Maybe it’s one of the little kids, they could have got themselves lost. Daryl chews on his lower lip and he waits. At first, it seems to take forever, but with a rush of green from the brush and the blue flash of a T-shirt, he recognizes Glenn's small features. Daryl lets out another grunt.
The kid has his hands covering his own crotch, his face is bright red and even with his hat covering his eyes, Daryl can tell that Glenn looks absolutely mortified. Daryl rests his crossbow against his trembling leg and lets out the breath he didn't even realize he had been holding back.
"Fuck, kid," he hisses out. "What the fuck you think you're doin'?"
Glenn says nothing, but Daryl notices as the kid tries to makes himself small. Glenn drops his head and presses a hand against his pants harder, like he's trying to hide something. Daryl frowns. Something isn't right. Millions of crazy thoughts hit him. Did Glenn steal something from someone at the camp? Did he saw a geek and pissed in his pants?
"Kid, I asked you a question, what are you-?"
It's when he reaches for Glenn's arm and pulls. Daryl understands the minute he sees it. There are fresh, dark spots on Glenn's pants, just around his groin. It doesn't look like piss, though. Doesn't smell like it. And Daryl has a very good sense of smell. Whatever it is, it smells like, like-
Fuck.
His eyes grow wider when it finally sinks in. The kid has just come in his pants. Daryl shakes his head, trying to wrap his mind around it and at first, he feels really confused. But he's not stupid and soon he feels very, very angry.
"What-" He chokes a bit. "You're watchin' me, Chinaman? What you thinkin', you, Jesus! Ain't you a fucking f-"
Daryl stops before he says the word, though. He's really more upset about not having the chance to get himself off since that fucking kid apparently did and at his expense. He sure as hell doesn't know what to do about it. It isn't like Daryl will shoot the kid. How would he explain that, back at the camp? And, well, it isn't even something that he feels someone should get shot for, anyway.
Merle would disagree, of course. Merle would grab the kid's pitch black hair, drag him over the dirt, break half of his teeth and then beat him to death. Daryl wonders what he should do. But he's not Merle. He's not. He closes his eyes and tries to think, but all he can think about is his aching cock trapped inside his pants and Glenn watching him and, Jesus Christ, the world is so fucking unfair.
"Sorry." He overhears Glenn mumbling. "'m sorry, man, I swear I won't tell anyone, just let me-"
"Shut up." Daryl squeezes Glenn's arm and as he does it, his own body shifts and his cock twitches, impossibly harder inside his goddamn pants. Fuck, fuck, that fucking hurts. "Shit, kid. Just, just- shut the hell up, okay?" He shakes his head and he lets go of Glenn like the kid is electrified. "I- just go, go away, I need to-"
Daryl's hand fumbles as he takes a step back and tries really hard to not unzip his pants right there. He closes his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath back, grabs the crossbow with his other hand and grips it hard. And Daryl only notices the kid hasn't left when he feels Glenn's fingers on his zipper.
He gasps, words failing him completely. Daryl wants to tell the kid to fuck the hell off. He wants to tell him to please hurry and get it over with.
Daryl doesn't say a thing, though. He hears Glenn's knees drop to the dirt and he closes his eyes when he feels slender, cool, and very uncertain hands unzipping him and grabbing his cock. He hisses through his teeth and lets out an absolutely embarrassing moan.
"Fuck." Daryl looks down. He can't see Glenn's face, still hidden behind that stupid hat of his, but he has a full view of his own cock being handled by those lean, shaky fingers. "Fuck," Daryl says again, lost and feeling his body responding immediately. Glenn grabs the base of his cock with his left hand, to keep Daryl still, and he uses his right to work on the gland, pressing a finger in the slit. Daryl has to bite the inside of his mouth not to yell.
The kid has obviously had a lot of practice, a thought that doesn’t make this any easier to handle. He is a fucking man and having another man jerking him off isn't something Daryl should allow, let alone enjoy. Daryl shivers as he watches Glenn spit on his fingers to make them slide better against the feverish skin. He fights back every sound that tries to makes its way out of his mouth. He doesn't say, yeah, fuck, just like that when Glenn's fingers touch his sore balls, caressing them, but he does want to. He wants it bad. Daryl tries not to move towards the kid's hands, tries not to show how much he's liking it.
But when Glenn's hat falls off and Daryl gets a full view of Glenn's lips too fucking close, he just can't fight the urge to grab the kid by that pitch black, shiny hair, and to force himself down Glenn's throat. The kid stops him just in time, but he doesn't run away or bite him or anything like that. Glenn grabs Daryl by his waist, instead, to make him still. Then he licks the pre-come on the tip, like he's fucking savoring it. Daryl tries to distract himself or he knows he will come on the spot. He tries to focus on feeling how soft the hair between his fingers is and he lets out a suffocated gasp. Daryl watches as Glenn seems done with the teasing and swallows half of his cock at once. Suddenly Daryl can't feel the ground beneath his feet and he decides that it would be an amazingly good idea if he could just keep breathing.
It had been ages since he got himself a blowjob and, Jesus fucking Christ, he had missed it. It's so good to feel someone wrapping a warm tongue around him, to have a hand massaging his balls. In that godforsaken world it feels like paradise and Daryl only realizes he has started to moan out loud when he notices Glenn doing the exact same thing. He stares down and feels something hit him hard in the gut, because the kid has him fully inside his mouth and using a free hand, Glenn has started to jerk himself off. Again. It's like the kid can't get enough of Daryl, of Daryl's scent, Daryl's taste. It's like he's having the time of his life. It's too fucking much.
"Shit-" Daryl tries to hold it back, he really, really does, but he has just enough time to push the kid off and then he comes hard, almost painfully hard, some of his cum hitting Glenn on his face, over that bright, soft hair.
Panting, Daryl stares at Glenn as he gives himself a few more pulls and comes, too, all over his slender fingers. Daryl watches it drip over the kid's pants and on the dirt. Daryl just watches because he doesn't know what he wants to do. He knows he should zip up his pants, grabs his crossbow and take off. It would be the smarter thing to do, he thinks.
So he does. Daryl walks away and he doesn't look back.
And it would be okay, it would be just something to feel slightly embarrassed about, something he would eventually forget once he finally meets and marries the right girl. The only problem is, that in this world, the right girl, if she is very, very lucky, is probably dead by now.
Daryl knows he should just forget about it. And he thinks he probably would have, if it hadn’t happened again.
And again and again.
It does feel like an arrangement, in the beginning.
It isn't smart for anyone to wander off alone and god forbid a walker decides to climb up the mountain, Daryl doesn’t want to be the one caught with his pants down. It's easier to have someone do the job so he has his hands free, his crossbow by his side, his eyes alert as they can be while having someone else's tongue on his cock.
They don't talk about it, of course.
Glenn is true to his word and he doesn't say anything back at the camp. He acts like nothing happened and he treats Daryl like he always did. Daryl tries to do the same and he thinks he succeeds. He thinks he catches Merle staring at him one afternoon with a funny look on his face, but again, it could be just the sun, because his brother says nothing. Merle has been in a good mood and Daryl doesn't have to worry about him too much these days.
The next time Daryl wanders into the woods, two days after, he is pretty sure he has been followed, only this time he doesn't raise his crossbow when he overhears the noise. He and Glenn stare at each other and as if there’s a mutual understanding the kid is on his knees a moment later and Daryl grabs his black hair between his fingers. And, after Daryl is finished, he only watches as Glenn jerks himself off. He tries to say to himself he is merely doing his part, making sure the kid isn't interrupted as he does his business, but Daryl knows he doesn't really mind being there. He hates himself for that, later, so he just tries not to think about it.
During the fifth time they're doing it, almost on a daily basis, Glenn doesn't let Daryl push him away when Daryl finds himself close, so the kid swallows down all of Daryl's cum, coming himself only a few seconds later, his tongue licking his lips clean as he wipes his dirty fingers on the grass, before he zips himself up.
"It's better this way," says Glenn out loud, then, and Daryl stops in his tracks. It is the first time that either of them has said a word on the matter. He looks down at Glenn, who just shudders like he isn't saying anything out of the ordinary. "It's a pain having to wash it off my hair every single time."
Daryl blinks. He grunts a 'whatever' before he takes off.
The sixth time they meet out in the woods, however, Daryl brings a canteen full of fresh water and a piece of washcloth along with him.
Apart from having someone to blow him, Daryl's routine doesn't change, much.
He still goes out and hunts and he watches the perimeter at night, so his brother can get his sleep. Of course he isn't doing this for Merle alone, but Daryl tries not to think too much about it, because he will start to notice how his eyes dart in Glenn's direction every now and then, and that probably would be bad.
Glenn is a good guy, though. He doesn't try to push whatever it is that they're doing. Not once has he tried to have Daryl touch him more than strictly necessary and Daryl is glad for it. He doesn't want to end their arrangement, but he doesn't know what he would do if the kid asked for a blowjob, too. There are boundaries, after all.
It's been one and a half weeks since he caught Glenn watching him when Daryl gets back from a hunt with a deer on his shoulders, and finds out that the camp just got three new members: an old man named Dale, who owns a trailer, and two sisters, Andrea and Amy.
Daryl catches Merle eyeing the older sister like most of the camp had looked at the deer he had dropped on the dirt once he arrived. The look in his eyes was unmistakably hungry. Daryl tries to locate Glenn, but he's nowhere to be found. He supposes the kid has probably gone down to the city to grab a few supplies.
It's funny, really. It seems to be another arrangement Daryl hadn't been informed about. Because, every time he goes hunting, the kid disappears from the camp as well. Daryl tries not to be too worried about the fact that he thinks it is nice and goes down to the quarry to wash the deer's blood off his shirt and arms.
Later, when they're preparing and salting the meat, Daryl sees Merle leering at the girls' group. They have their backs to them and as Andrea bends over to grab a box, Merle's grin goes wider.
"How about that, little brother." He laughs aloud. "Looks like fate's smilin' on the Dixons again. Two little yellow birds just happen to find this camp? What y' say?"
Daryl says nothing. The thought did cross his mind, of course. Amy looks so freaking much like the right girl. Young, pretty, perky, fragile. White. The kind of girl his parents would have loved him to bring home.
"Yeah," he says since Merle keeps staring at him, waiting for an answer. "They look nice."
"Nice? You fuckin' with me? It's Christmas come early, my man, and Santa got my gift wrapped and ready for me to open and-"
Daryl is saved from hearing the rest of Merle's sentence by a disturbance at the entrance of the camp. It's getting darker by the minute and he only recognizes Glenn once he gets closer. There are half a dozen people surrounding him and Daryl's heart skips a beat when he sees Glenn is injured, blood dripping all over his right arm, near his shoulder. He's trying to say something, but everybody is talking at the same time and pointing at his arm and all the blood and saying things like oh my god, he's infected and what are we going to do and-
"Hey!" Daryl shouts. "Would you shut the fuck up? The kid is trying to talk here."
Shane, T-Dog, Moralles and the others fall silent, probably because they are surprised by his outburst than anything else. Glenn looks so grateful and it's then that Daryl realizes the kid has lost his baseball cap. He looks so strange without it. Something really bad must have happened for him to leave it behind.
"I didn't get bitten, stop freaking out." Glenn's voice is firm, but Daryl can sense the weakness in it. "It's a clean cut, look." He tries to wipe the blood away and, indeed, it's a pretty clean cut, like it was made by some kind of blade. Nothing like a walker's bite, definitely. Thankfully. "I just got cut on a piece of glass when I was leaving a building, then I wrapped it with my shirt and ran off so the walkers wouldn't have time to smell it. It loosened up on my way here, so will you please quit staring and help me stitch this thing up?"
Nobody seems to want to. Daryl feels the kid's gaze on him and swears under his breath and goes to get a needle and hot water by the fire. Merle isn't paying attention, busy looking in Andrea's direction. Daryl gathers everything he thinks could be useful and gets back to where Glenn is, grabbing his bleeding arm and bracing himself against a tree. Daryl hands him a piece of cloth.
"Press it against your arm. Here-" Daryl shows him how. "I'm gonna need some light if you want me to do this right, so lemme start a fire first."
Glenn nods and does as he is told. Once the fire starts to grow, Daryl checks on his wound, but it starts to bleed the second he lifts the cloth. Daryl frowns and checks Glenn's temperature. The kid doesn't feel too hot, which is good, but the bleeding isn't stopping, which is bad. He probably isn't using enough pressure, since the kid lost all that blood. He must be feeling really weak. It's really a miracle he didn't pass out along the way. Daryl swears again and crouches in front of Glenn, pressing against the wound himself, hard. Glenn hisses through his teeth. He squeezes his eyes shut, but he doesn't complain.
"Sorry," says Daryl and he means it. "Got to stop the bleeding if you want to me to stitch it, okay?"
Glenn nods, his eyes still closed. They stay silent for a few minutes, Daryl checking on the wound from time to time, until the bleeding finally seems to stop. Daryl cleans it with warm water and realizes with a smile it isn't as deep as he thought it was.
"Look," he says and Glenn opens his eyes. "It isn't that bad, right?" The kid stares at him, then down to his wound. He nods and tries to smile but it's a weak version of one. "So." Daryl licks his lips. "I'm going to start and- it's probably going to hurt, but just try not to move, 'kay?"
Daryl gets his flask, filled with bourbon, and makes the kid drink some of it. Glenn makes a face, but doesn't spit it out. Daryl pours some over the wound and Glenn hisses and shuts his eyes again, but he doesn't move. Daryl gets the needle he's been keeping in the hot water, cleans it with bourbon and does the same with his hands. Then, as an afterthought, he gets a new piece of cloth and shoves it inside Glenn's mouth. Glenn's brown eyes grow wider and Daryl feels bad for him.
"Don't move," he repeats and with a deep breath, Daryl starts to stitch.
It seems to take forever. Shane and Moralles come by to check on them, but they leave as soon as they hear the girls starting to argue with Merle. Daryl shakes his head, trying to concentrate on his task, promising himself he will keep a closer eye on Merle, otherwise his brother will probably get them kicked out. Glenn has his eyes open the entire time, staring at Daryl over his wound. He doesn't try to take the cloth out of his mouth, blinking back tears every time Daryl inserts the needle into his skin. Daryl wants to say he's sorry every single time, but he knows he's doing the kid a favor. Nobody else would want to get within ten feet of him until they're sure he's not infected.
When Daryl is finally done, the camp seems to have settled down; everyone's gathered around the fire to feed on the deer he had brought in earlier. Daryl thought how the hunt feels like happening in another life. He shakes his head and cleans off the residual blood around Glenn's stitches, pours a few drops of bourbon over it one more time, makes a bandage and, after thinking about it for a second, puts Glenn's arm in an improvised sling.
"It's not broken," Glenn states, frowning. His eyes are threatening to close.
"Don't want you messing with these stitches," Daryl snaps back, but he isn't mad. "I ain't your nurse."
They stare at each other. Daryl frowns until Glenn cracks a weak smile.
"Thanks, Daryl," the kid says before he blinks, his eyes starting to close.
Daryl hesitates for a moment, but then he gives Glenn a feeble slap on his cheek. "Hey, don't doze off on me, kid." Glenn looks at him, obviously more than ready to do exactly that. Daryl pities him, but he knows he can't let the kid sleep, not yet. "Come on. Stay up for a little bit more, would you? Let's get you somethin' to eat."
And even if Daryl had stayed up the night before, hunting, he also volunteers to watch the perimeter, along with the new guy, Dale. He sits by the fire, only embers by now, and doesn't have the heart to shove Glenn off when he feels the kid dropping his head on his shoulder.
The first time they do it inside Glenn's tent happens exactly three days after his accident. They shouldn't, Daryl knows that, but Glenn insists. Well, implies it, at least. The day is just breaking and the kid opens his tent and stares at Daryl, who's standing only a few yards away, finishing with his watch. Glenn doesn't make a move, just looks up at him, but Daryl understands. He hasn't gotten off for almost a week and, well, if they are really quick, what's the harm.
Daryl fumbles with his zipper, trying to yank it down, so Glenn can pull his cock out. He supports himself on his elbows so he can look at Glenn's lips, working up and down on his cock, his injured arm just staying there, his left hand wrapped around the base so he can slide it inside his mouth without gagging. Daryl feels a familiar warm feeling building up inside him, from the tip of his toes all the way to his lungs as he slowly runs out of air. He feels something hard pressing against his thigh and he realizes it must be Glenn's dick.
Shit, Daryl thinks and tries to move his body aside just a little, but Glenn chooses that exact moment to start to lick his balls and Daryl momentarily forgets his own name.
He comes down Glenn's throat a couple of minutes later and he only remembers about Glenn's hard dick against his leg once he notices the kid is having real trouble taking care of himself using only his left hand. Daryl bites his lower lip at the view and grunts and thinks hell with it as he shoves Glenn's hand away and grasps the kid's aching cock.
Glenn's eyes go wider and a deep, harsh moan escapes from his swollen lips. Daryl tries not to think about having another's man dick between his fingers as he increases the pace, staring into Glenn's eyes, his eyelids slipping close. He watches when the kid bites on his lips, making them even more swollen and red than they were before. Daryl tries to ignore the growing heat between his fingers, the pulsing he can literally see in the artery that seems to threaten to burst out of the kid's neck.
It takes Glenn at least a minute to come. He snatches Daryl's fingers away at the last second and grabs his own cock to prevent his cum from hitting Daryl and Daryl doesn't know how he should feel about that. He doesn't give it too much thought, though.
Daryl is a little more concerned about the fact that the look on Glenn's face, right as he came, having Daryl's hand on him, is definitely one of the most stunning things he has ever seen.
Sometimes, Daryl dreams.
At least, sometimes Daryl remembers his dreams. He read somewhere that people dreamt every night, and that sometimes they just don't remember them. He read that everyone needs to dream, or they would all go crazy. Not dreaming isn't an option, it seems. And sometimes Daryl's dreams feel like actual dreams, not the usual screaming-trapped-inside-your-immobilized-body-as-an-ugly-walker-chewing-up-your-mommy-and-daddy.
Daryl dreams about when he was a child. He dreams about the time he was six and his dad taught him how to ride his bike and his mom took care of his bruised knee after he fell after trying to ride it for the first time without the training wheels. In his dream, instead of laughing at him, Merle helps him up and offers him a pillion ride on his own big bike.
They ride and ride until Daryl isn't able to see the ranch or heard his mom and dad's voice anymore. It's nightfall when they finally reach a cliff, with this gorgeous lake just down the hill. Merle makes a fire and promises to take Daryl to swim and fish the following morning. They have marshmallows for dinner around the fire and they talk about how it would be to just drive around the country and to meet new people, people that would be so different from those at home.
Then they hear a noise coming from the bushes. Merle is up on his feet and he covers Daryl with his body, trying to protect his little brother and Daryl feels glad, but soon Merle lets him see what's going on, because it's just another boy, a bit smaller than the two of them. The kid wears a baseball cap, but Daryl can see that his hair is pitch black and that his eyes are just like from those fighters in the kung-fu movies on TV. Daryl wonders if the kid knows how to fight like that and if he can teach him. Maybe if they become friends, he thinks, and he takes a step forward, offering the kid a marshmallow.
Daryl wakes up when someone in the camp starts to scream from a nightmare of their own.
Glenn loses his stitches on the sixth day and as Daryl cleans the closed wound with what's left of his bourbon he asks if the kid would like to learn how to shoot. Glenn frowns at him for a second, before he says yes.
Daryl doesn't really know why he's doing this, except that it feels like the right thing to do. He had given it a thought or two while the kid spent the last few days recovering from his wound. Although he avoids Glenn's eyes in the days after he jerked him off, Daryl eventually comes to his senses and tells himself it isn't really a big deal. The kid had wanted to get off and he had been injured and Daryl had a pair of good hands and he was just doing him a favor. They're... they're not exactly friends, but they do have something and since Daryl isn't going to forbid the kid to go to the city to get them supplies, at the same time it doesn't feel right to let something bad like that happen to him again. This last time was only a piece of glass, but who knows what might happen next? They can't afford to lose people. At least that's what Daryl thinks when he and Glenn make their way into the woods first thing the next morning.
Once they walk a decent distance, Daryl pulls out his crossbow and hands it over to Glenn. The kid stares at it for a second, and then he cracks up. Daryl frowns because he can't see what is so funny about his crossbow, so he just stares back at Glenn, whose face is suddenly red with choked laughing, tears starting to fall from the corner of his eyes.
"Sorry," breathes Glenn once he gets it under control. "Sorry, it's just, I thought-"
"What?" Daryl snaps. He has this ugly feeling that he's the reason Glenn's laughing and he doesn't like it.
"It's just-" Glenn shakes his head. "Look, I just thought you offered to teach me so we could be alone. I- I'm sorry, I should know by now that you aren't the kind of guy who needs an excuse."
Daryl blinks at Glenn, but yeah, he does see the point. "Some dirty mind you have going in there, kid." He grins and feels strangely relieved once Glenn grins back at him. "Come on, let's do it."
They practice for an entire morning and most of the afternoon. Half of the squirrels they bring back to camp are brought down by Glenn.
Being useful must waken something inside Glenn, because he starts to talk about going down to the city the very next day. Daryl feels this nasty pinch inside his gut once Glenn lets the words out, but he doesn't say a thing. Everyone is gathered around the fire and Lori chooses that exact moment to say they're almost out of salt and canned beans. Shane nods and it sounds like a decision.
Daryl feels angry, because none of them have left the camp since he got there and he and Glenn have to do all the dirty work by themselves. He opens his mouth, knowing he probably will regret it the moment he speaks, but it's already too late.
"I don't think the kid should keep doing this by himself," he says and every pair of eyes snaps back at him, Merle's and Glenn's included. Glenn's mouth is slightly open. "I mean, he could have died the last time and we'd be one man short... besides losin' the supplies," he adds when he notices Merle's deep frown. Glenn's eyes are wide open.
There's a long, awkward silence. It's T-Dog who breaks it.
"You know, the dude is right. Glenn shouldn't go alone," he says and Daryl has to chew on his lip to not reply. This isn't what he had in mind. He wanted other people to volunteer to do this too, for a change, or at least to offer to go with Glenn himself without raising any suspicions and he definitely didn't want to have to take the nigger along with them. Daryl opens his mouth to try to say something, but unfortunately Merle has the very same idea.
"You all losin' your goddamn minds if you're thinkin' I'm about to let you-" he points a finger at T-Dog, "touch the food I eat."
T-Dog is on his feet in a second. Merle doesn't seem to be bothered, but Daryl spots his brother's rifle lying close by. "Well, I don't see your stupid face doing a thing about that," T-Dog barks and the awkward silence is replaced by a mix of voices yelling at Merle or agreeing with T-Dog or telling T-Dog that it isn't worth it. Shane gets up to put himself between T-Dog and Merle.
Daryl knows that in moments like these he should have his brother's back, but the truth is he feels a little tempted to punch Merle, too, because it's so fucking stupid to say every little thing that comes to mind. It's when Glenn decides to interfere.
"Drop it, both of you," he says and all the voices stop. "I'm not taking anyone if you people behave like this."
Everyone is staring at Glenn now and Daryl knows he can't just announce he wants in without attracting even more attention than he already had, and then T-Dog is nodding and saying Glenn he's sorry and that he's going, too, if Glenn will let him. Daryl swears to himself and looks at Merle, who has a smirk on his face. But once Andrea says she's in as well, his brother says that no one is stopping him from coming along.
In the end, a total of five others volunteer to leave first thing in the morning with Glenn and Daryl hasn't open his mouth since he was the one who started the matter in the first place.
"I'm about to spend a whole day with your brother. Any words of wisdom?"
Daryl stops cleaning his arrows. Glenn has his backpack and he's ready to go. They usually don't do this. Say goodbye. Daryl doesn't like it. It feels like something bad will happen. He's not superstitious, he just has a feeling. Women would call it intuition; Daryl calls it his survival instinct.
He blinks when he realizes Glenn hasn't moved. He's actually waiting for an answer.
Daryl sighs. "Just let him talk." He starts cleaning again, although his arrows are already as clean as they will ever get. "And try to keep the nigger away from him."
He's isn't looking up, so he can't see the Glenn's face. Daryl hears his annoyed grunt, though. He looks up. The kid looks like someone has just insulted his own mother.
"What?" Daryl shrugs. "You asked."
Glenn fumbles with the straps of his backpack, like he's deciding what to say next. Daryl hopes he stays silent. He didn't take that kind of shit from his girlfriends, let alone from some China boy he just let suck his cock every now and then.
"You're not your brother, Daryl."
Daryl blinks at Glenn's words. Hell, he knows it. He agrees with it, even, but it doesn't give Glenn the right to say it aloud. Daryl takes a deep breath and stops what he's doing. Things aren't going to get very far if he acts like this. Better to just get this over with.
"What the fuck do you mean?" Daryl snarls. He wonders if not being like Merle means he's less of a man. He wants to ask if that means that Glenn would like to have his brother shoving his dick into the kid's mouth instead of him. Daryl also knows it's a very cruel thing to think, but he can't help it. But he isn't like his brother, so he doesn't say any of it.
"Just that you're nothing like him," Glenn replies with a small shrug. "You don't have to say things you don't want to, just because he would. We could be your people, too, you know. All of us."
As he says it, Glenn turns his back to leave and Daryl swears under his breath, because he knows the kid is right. It isn't smart to fight the only people in the world that can help you. It isn't smart to call them a nigger, even if it's what they are. Daryl doesn't hate people just because. He doesn't hate these people and he definitely doesn't hate Glenn. The kid is right. He's nothing like his brother. He wants them all to get back safe and he doesn't want to let Glenn head out feeling mad at him.
"Wait-" he calls and Glenn stops, though the kid doesn't look back. Daryl can see the rigid line of his shoulders. Glenn is not even a bit happy about their talk either.
Daryl sighs and searches inside his bag until he finds what he's looking for. He had planned to give it to Glenn later, when he got back, maybe after they, they-
Shit.
What the hell was he thinking?
"Here," Daryl says and the kid turns. Glenn's eyes grow wider once he sees what Daryl has in his hand because it's Glenn's hat. "Found it earlier, when I was searchin' for one of my arrows. Thought you'd like to have it back."
Glenn doesn't move. He keeps staring from the hat in his hands back to Daryl's face. He touches his right arm, right where Daryl had stitched him up. Daryl watches the corner of his mouth start to twitch. Daryl doesn't know if he wants to hear whatever Glenn is planning to say, so he gets up and puts the hat on Glenn’s head, adjusting the fit. For a second or two Daryl gets to feel the softness of his hair. He gets a glimpse of Glenn's eyes before he lets go.
"There you are." Daryl's arms fall along his body. His fingertips itch for the loss, but he just ignores the feeling.
Glenn licks his lips and raises his head to look Daryl in the eye. "Thanks," he says, but he leaves his mouth open for a second and Daryl knows the kid isn't done, though he can't figure out what else is left to say. They hear a voice outside.
"Glenn, Glenn? Man, you in there?"
It's Moralles. They're going to be late leaving camp. Daryl grunts, equal parts annoyed and relieved, as Glenn casts him one last, lingering look, before he sneaks out of the tent.
This has got to be the worst day of his life, Daryl thinks.
And, keeping in mind how shitty the whole world has gotten lately, well, it says something. Not only has he stayed up all night tracking a deer only to watch it get chewed up by a fucking walker, he also has to feel the sensation, the terrible feeling that his brother was dead for the longest fifteen seconds of his life, just so he could learn that Merle was, in fact, left handcuffed on a roof in Atlanta and might end up dead anyway if he didn't get down to the city fast enough.
And it just keeps getting worse.
He didn't really want Glenn to go with them; he's mad and so he kicks the turning wheel to blare the horn. He yells come on, let's go and doesn't meet the kid's eyes. He's mad because Glenn was one of those who left his brother behind. The feeling weakens as they ride to the city and it almost vanishes once Glenn agrees to get Merle first then the guns, even if there's not much left to find, once they reach the top of the building. The kid also doesn't complain about having to carry Merle's severed hand and he seems to feel terribly bad about what happened. Every time Daryl looks at him, the kid's face is covered in shame.
In the end, Glenn is also the one who comes up with the plan to get the guns so they can go out looking for his brother. Daryl doesn't know if Glenn is doing this for him, for that Rick Grimes fellow or for himself, so when the kid says Daryl is coming along with him, Daryl can't help asking him why. He has to admit the kid had showed some courage, though, and he even feels like forgiving him for leaving his brother behind- but then those bastards appear out of nowhere, kick him to ground, grab the kid and take off.
Even now, as they try to make the douchebag who didn't manage to escape spit out something useful, he can't turn off the sound of Glenn shouting out his name. It lingers against his skin and stings every time Daryl closes his eyes. The kid had begged for him and Daryl just wasn't fast enough.
He tries to keep his head cool, though. They're at a loss, but they have the guns. The smartest move would be to end that fucking deadweight Rick's trying to make cooperate and then make their way back to the camp. He doesn't want to leave the kid behind, but who can guarantee they can get him back, even if they hand over the guns? What would they really be gambling with? The guns? Their own lives?
Both?
Rick won't hear it, though. This man, a man who only knew the kid for one day, this man is willing to risk his life, the safety of his own family, all for Glenn. Daryl can't help it. He feels ashamed of himself. He feels like covering his face like Glenn did when Daryl called them sorry pricks for leaving his brother behind. He remembers what Glenn said back at the camp, before he went down to the city with Merle and the others.
We could be your people, the kid had said.
And one of the last things Daryl had said to him was that Daryl didn't even like him much. He didn't mean that, of course, and deep, deep down he thinks Glenn understands. Daryl hopes he does, because the truth is...Merle could be dead by now. His brother might have passed out in some dirty alley and been eaten by a bunch of geeks. And Daryl will have no one. He will be just like Glenn.
Everybody wants to have somebody come back for them. And Daryl knows, and he hates himself for knowing it, that Glenn would do it for him without even blinking an eye. He did it for a complete stranger, didn't he? Glenn sure would do that for someone he considered his people.
And Daryl doesn't know what to say when they find out the kid is okay.
He doesn't know if he's even allowed to say anything. The only thing he does is to get Glenn's shirt, the shirt he had grabbed back in the alley, before they got attacked, and hand it to the kid. Glenn stares at it for a minute and sighs audibly before putting the shirt on. He doesn't say thanks, but Daryl thinks it is okay. Glenn is probably just tired. Daryl's also tired, and glad Glenn's safe.
After that, Daryl doesn't really think about his brother until they make their way to where they parked the van, too worried about the guns and ammo left behind, but once they find the empty spot and Rick vocalizes his thoughts, Daryl realizes what Merle might do to the camp. He also thinks that they can handle Merle, yes, if they stick together. His brother might be the toughest asshole Daryl knows, but he's also one hand short and he lost a lot of blood and, and- Daryl and the others are in this together. He's still mad about what they did to his brother, but he knows his brother and Daryl knows they probably did what was necessary when they left him on that roof. He doesn't like it, sure thing he doesn't, but he does understand it. They have to do what's necessary now, too.
When the day started, Daryl didn't plan to end it thinking about how to stop his own brother from hurting the people he never wanted to call his. But that's all he can think about as they run up the mountain, night falling around them, his crossbow against his back, a shotgun solid in his hands. He glances at Glenn, only a few steps ahead, and knows that he has the kid's back this time. Daryl decides he won't fail him again. He won't have to, he knows. He hopes he won’t have to, at least. Maybe Merle went somewhere else. Maybe they'll be okay.
This fucking day can't get any worse, after all, right. It just can't.
Until he hears the shouting and the screaming coming from the camp.
[Part #2]
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/character(s): Daryl/Glenn, ensemble
Word count: ~18,000 (complete)
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except for the (really large amount of) gay porn.
Summary: Everybody wants to have somebody come back for them. Spoilers for all of season one.
Warnings: Bad words about not bad people, bodily secretions and (tons of) sex. Not necessarily in that order.
Notes: I planned to write porn with plot, but I guess I ended up with the porn only. Hmm, sorry? Title from If You Wanna I Might, by Hellogoodbye. One more thing: I read a couple of issues from the TWD comics, so there are some (really) vague references, but that's all.
Thanks to: laria_gwyn, who is a saint, hands down. She made this a lot clear and so much better. Remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Edit: A Korean version for this story, translated by wjdpduq, can be read here. Also, now a Chinese version, by veryK. Thank you both! ♥
Some things don't change.
It doesn't matter that the whole world went crazy and that people are now wandering around chewing other people up. You still need to eat. You still need to sleep. You need some company. Even if you don't get to live the way you did before, you still need those things, so you can at least try to survive. Daryl has his brother, he has his crossbow and he can shoot things up, so they get to eat. They watch each other's back so one of them can get his sleep and they keep on surviving.
Merle isn't an easy guy. Never was, Daryl knows that. But he's glad they have each other now. For awhile he thought he'd never see his brother again. Life had kept them apart. The dead brought them back together and Daryl's glad he gets to survive along with his brother. Merle doesn't get along with many people. He has his temper, his condition. But Daryl can handle both. It had never been a big problem before, before they could afford to be on their own.
Some things don't change, yes. But some things do get worse.
The geeks doubled, tripled, and they're now too many for his crossbow and for Merle's rifle. They had made their way to Atlanta and when they ran into this surveying group, they decided to stick around. There are now too many mouths for his crossbow to feed, but there are more pairs of eyes to watch over his sleep. Many different pairs of eyes, yes, but Daryl doesn't hate people as his brother seems to do. He loves his brother, yes, but he's just glad there are a few more people alive.
Even if a lot of them are Blacks or Latinos or Asians.
Well, one Asian only, actually.
To tell the truth, Daryl never had problems with Asian people. He had met very few of them, actually. There had been this family in his town. They had had a daughter who used to be the first one in Daryl's class, back then. She went to some fancy school out of the state to study to be a doctor after she graduated. She was cute, too, he remembers, even if it was in an Asian sort of way. Daryl has no idea if she's still around. Maybe she's working on this thing, trying to control it, to beat it. Maybe she's now wandering in the streets, trying to bite people.
Glenn looks smart, too. Not the doctor kind. More like those sidekicks in the superhero' movies Daryl used to watch when his girl couldn't talk them into seeing some romantic comedy bullshit. The kind of sidekick nobody gives a crap about who ends up saving the superhero's sorry ass at the last minute.
He's just a kid, though, Daryl thinks. He's just a kid and he does more than half of their group. Glenn leaves the safety of camp for several hours and goes to the city, and he comes back bringing supplies. Glenn is just like him, Daryl assumes. He doesn't stop, he's always doing something. Daryl doesn't know what kind of life the kid had before all this, but whatever it was, it taught him to do his part and Daryl appreciates this kind of people, doesn't matter what they look like. Daryl leaves the camp, too, to hunt, sometimes for a whole day or two. Sometimes Merle tags along, other times his brother stayed in the camp in order to fix up their truck, their tent. Sometimes Merle has a bad day and Daryl is afraid to leave him alone. Not just for Merle's sake.
On one particular day, though, his brother is feeling okay and he decides to stay and Daryl is halfway down the mountain when he hears a shout behind him.
"Hey!" Glenn breathes as he catches up with him. "You're going hunting." It's not a question.
Daryl nods, but doesn't say a thing. He and Merle have been in the camp for almost two weeks now. Daryl doesn't talk much. He knows people think he's just like his brother and he hasn't bothered to contradict them just yet. Daryl thinks it's easier this way. He's glad they're alive and all, but he doesn't want to get attached to these people and then have to watch them die eventually. Like he's had to do with his friends, his girl, his folks back home.
Glenn is not like the others, though. The kid doesn't push things. He doesn't try to make friends. He's nice and polite, does his part and knows how to keep it together. He seems like a good guy. It wouldn't hurt to be polite to him in return, Daryl considers, when he decides to open his mouth.
"Yeah, I-" Daryl replies a few seconds later, as they walk side by side down the mountain. "We could use some fresh meat, y' know." He smirks and Glenn shakes his head in agreement.
"I'm going for supplies. Blankets, toilet paper, stuff like that." He shudders, sticking his hands into his pockets. His empty backpack wiggles behind him.
Daryl doesn't know what else to say. Truth is, he isn't used to being nice to people who are so different from him. He forces a little smile and nods again, avoids Glenn's eyes. They stay silent for a minute or two until he hears the kid clearing his throat. Daryl looks back at him.
"Do you, hmm, do you need anything?" Glenn asks, staring straight forward so Daryl can't see his eyes. "From Atlanta, I mean." Daryl thinks he catches a bit of a stutter in his voice, but he's probably wrong. The kid probably is panting for the walk, that's all. Glenn doesn't have a reason to be nervous around him, does he?
"Hmm," Daryl starts to say. He runs a hand over his jaw, trying to think of something. His stubble's starting to itch, he notices. Well, why not. "Some shavin' cream would be nice, I guess."
Glenn nods and tips his baseball cap as he turns his back. They go their separate ways. Daryl catches himself smiling a bit. He realizes it later, but he shakes it off when he draws out his crossbow and hits a rabbit.
Daryl makes it back before Glenn.
He has been out for a whole day and night is already falling over the camp once he steps in. He vaguely wonders if the kid had a gun with him. He can't remember Glenn shooting anything and his backpack had looked pretty empty. He thinks that nobody deserves to be out there, in the dark, with nothing but the walkers for company. Daryl looks around as he and Merle clean off the half-dozen rabbits he had brought back. Nobody looks worried. They're all busy, looking over their husbands, wives, sons, daughters and friends. Though they all seem to like Glenn, he isn't their first concern. Neither is he Daryl's, but, well, Daryl wonders. The little man is completely alone.
"The Asian kid should have been back by now," he says to nobody in particular, but Merle frowns at his words.
"Ha, why do you care?" He grins as he disembowels a third rabbit with his knife. His hands are bloody and Daryl feels a little sick. He remembers when a bunch of walkers took his girl and two of his friends. He remembers the blood and the guts. Their dying screams. He has never heard Glenn even raise his voice. He can't imagine the kid screaming for his life.
"I don't." Daryl shudders. "'Just think it's weird."
Merle doesn't say another word, though he casts him a few weird looks, between gutting the two rabbits. Daryl ignores it. He doesn't care. He just thinks that the kid doesn't have anyone and that isn’t easy. It just feels like the right thing to do. To worry about him. Someone should.
When Glenn finally arrives, two and a half hours later, the stew is already boiling. Daryl notices him before the rest of the camp does and lets out a sigh of relief. He's glad Merle went to get some water, because when Glenn drops his full backpack at Moralles' feet, he heads directly in Daryl's direction. The kid has something in his hand and Daryl bites down a grin as he realizes what it is.
"It smells good," Glenn says by way of greeting.
"'Took your time down there, kid," Daryl replies, checking on the bowl over the fire.
"Well," Glenn says. He sits by Daryl's side. "Took me awhile to find it." He hands Daryl a new bottle of shaving cream. It still has the seal on it. "Hope this one is okay. It's the only one they had at the store."
Daryl stares at the bottle. He feels his throat shut. "Hmm, thanks," he finally manages.
Glenn smiles. "Hell with your thanks. Give me some of this stew. I'm starving."
Daryl feels grateful when he overhears Merle shouting at someone and he has an excuse to get up and do something rather than sit there, not knowing how to deal with the creepy warm feeling that has started to build up inside his gut.
Some things do change, Daryl realizes.
It doesn't matter if he doesn't get to worry anymore about running his dad's ranch. Finding and marrying the right girl and having a couple of kids. It all stayed in the past. Why should they worry about preserving the human race so the walkers could feed on what's left of them? Daryl doesn't get to plan ahead anymore, but then, none of them do.
He stays awake while his brother sleeps, he hunts and he cooks rabbits, squirrels and, when he gets very lucky, a deer and he sits tight and does his part and breaks up fights between Merle and the rest of the camp. He watches in silence as Glenn teaches the little ones to make a kite. And Daryl groans under his breath when the new guy, Shane, shows up and tells Glenn he doesn't think it's such a good idea to put the kite in the air.
Sometimes, Daryl jerks off.
It isn't about the immediate bliss, though. Not only the immediate bliss, anyway. Daryl has a wank every now and then because he likes not having to think about the world going crazy, even if it's just for a fading moment. When he is almost, almost there, his mind goes blank for a second, half a second, and then he's back at the ranch, sitting on the porch drinking a beer and eyeing that smart Asian girl riding her bicycle down to the store. The wind messing with her shiny, pitch black hair.
Daryl is having a nice, long wank the day he overhears something in the woods. He grunts, his cock pulsing hard against his fingers and he stops, trying to figure out where it came. That's the problem with having personal time. He can't shoot his crossbow with just one arm and he won't ask Merle to watch his back when he wants to get his rocks off. He's not that weird.
"Who's there?" Daryl calls out, but hears nothing but the wind whispering against the leaves. "Fuck." He grunts again and takes a deep breath. He needs to finish now or just let it go. And he has gone too freaking far to let it go. "'Kind of busy over here."
And then he hears it again. There's definitely something there. Daryl swears one more time and gets up from the rock he had been leaning against. He zippers his pants and draws out his crossbow, aiming a few yards down to his right, where the noise came from. He takes three steps and overhears a different sound; a muffling of fabric, maybe? Daryl speeds up and catches a glimpse of clothing between the trees. Well, whoever it is, they are trying to sneak away. Daryl considers letting them go, but they shouldn't have come here in the first goddamn place. He feels his sore balls inside his pants.
"Stop right there or I'll shoot. Don't care who you are, just turn real slowly."
Daryl can hear heavy breathing, now. Whoever it is, they are panting hard. Maybe it's a walker, but a walker wouldn't just do as they're told. Maybe it’s one of the little kids, they could have got themselves lost. Daryl chews on his lower lip and he waits. At first, it seems to take forever, but with a rush of green from the brush and the blue flash of a T-shirt, he recognizes Glenn's small features. Daryl lets out another grunt.
The kid has his hands covering his own crotch, his face is bright red and even with his hat covering his eyes, Daryl can tell that Glenn looks absolutely mortified. Daryl rests his crossbow against his trembling leg and lets out the breath he didn't even realize he had been holding back.
"Fuck, kid," he hisses out. "What the fuck you think you're doin'?"
Glenn says nothing, but Daryl notices as the kid tries to makes himself small. Glenn drops his head and presses a hand against his pants harder, like he's trying to hide something. Daryl frowns. Something isn't right. Millions of crazy thoughts hit him. Did Glenn steal something from someone at the camp? Did he saw a geek and pissed in his pants?
"Kid, I asked you a question, what are you-?"
It's when he reaches for Glenn's arm and pulls. Daryl understands the minute he sees it. There are fresh, dark spots on Glenn's pants, just around his groin. It doesn't look like piss, though. Doesn't smell like it. And Daryl has a very good sense of smell. Whatever it is, it smells like, like-
Fuck.
His eyes grow wider when it finally sinks in. The kid has just come in his pants. Daryl shakes his head, trying to wrap his mind around it and at first, he feels really confused. But he's not stupid and soon he feels very, very angry.
"What-" He chokes a bit. "You're watchin' me, Chinaman? What you thinkin', you, Jesus! Ain't you a fucking f-"
Daryl stops before he says the word, though. He's really more upset about not having the chance to get himself off since that fucking kid apparently did and at his expense. He sure as hell doesn't know what to do about it. It isn't like Daryl will shoot the kid. How would he explain that, back at the camp? And, well, it isn't even something that he feels someone should get shot for, anyway.
Merle would disagree, of course. Merle would grab the kid's pitch black hair, drag him over the dirt, break half of his teeth and then beat him to death. Daryl wonders what he should do. But he's not Merle. He's not. He closes his eyes and tries to think, but all he can think about is his aching cock trapped inside his pants and Glenn watching him and, Jesus Christ, the world is so fucking unfair.
"Sorry." He overhears Glenn mumbling. "'m sorry, man, I swear I won't tell anyone, just let me-"
"Shut up." Daryl squeezes Glenn's arm and as he does it, his own body shifts and his cock twitches, impossibly harder inside his goddamn pants. Fuck, fuck, that fucking hurts. "Shit, kid. Just, just- shut the hell up, okay?" He shakes his head and he lets go of Glenn like the kid is electrified. "I- just go, go away, I need to-"
Daryl's hand fumbles as he takes a step back and tries really hard to not unzip his pants right there. He closes his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath back, grabs the crossbow with his other hand and grips it hard. And Daryl only notices the kid hasn't left when he feels Glenn's fingers on his zipper.
He gasps, words failing him completely. Daryl wants to tell the kid to fuck the hell off. He wants to tell him to please hurry and get it over with.
Daryl doesn't say a thing, though. He hears Glenn's knees drop to the dirt and he closes his eyes when he feels slender, cool, and very uncertain hands unzipping him and grabbing his cock. He hisses through his teeth and lets out an absolutely embarrassing moan.
"Fuck." Daryl looks down. He can't see Glenn's face, still hidden behind that stupid hat of his, but he has a full view of his own cock being handled by those lean, shaky fingers. "Fuck," Daryl says again, lost and feeling his body responding immediately. Glenn grabs the base of his cock with his left hand, to keep Daryl still, and he uses his right to work on the gland, pressing a finger in the slit. Daryl has to bite the inside of his mouth not to yell.
The kid has obviously had a lot of practice, a thought that doesn’t make this any easier to handle. He is a fucking man and having another man jerking him off isn't something Daryl should allow, let alone enjoy. Daryl shivers as he watches Glenn spit on his fingers to make them slide better against the feverish skin. He fights back every sound that tries to makes its way out of his mouth. He doesn't say, yeah, fuck, just like that when Glenn's fingers touch his sore balls, caressing them, but he does want to. He wants it bad. Daryl tries not to move towards the kid's hands, tries not to show how much he's liking it.
But when Glenn's hat falls off and Daryl gets a full view of Glenn's lips too fucking close, he just can't fight the urge to grab the kid by that pitch black, shiny hair, and to force himself down Glenn's throat. The kid stops him just in time, but he doesn't run away or bite him or anything like that. Glenn grabs Daryl by his waist, instead, to make him still. Then he licks the pre-come on the tip, like he's fucking savoring it. Daryl tries to distract himself or he knows he will come on the spot. He tries to focus on feeling how soft the hair between his fingers is and he lets out a suffocated gasp. Daryl watches as Glenn seems done with the teasing and swallows half of his cock at once. Suddenly Daryl can't feel the ground beneath his feet and he decides that it would be an amazingly good idea if he could just keep breathing.
It had been ages since he got himself a blowjob and, Jesus fucking Christ, he had missed it. It's so good to feel someone wrapping a warm tongue around him, to have a hand massaging his balls. In that godforsaken world it feels like paradise and Daryl only realizes he has started to moan out loud when he notices Glenn doing the exact same thing. He stares down and feels something hit him hard in the gut, because the kid has him fully inside his mouth and using a free hand, Glenn has started to jerk himself off. Again. It's like the kid can't get enough of Daryl, of Daryl's scent, Daryl's taste. It's like he's having the time of his life. It's too fucking much.
"Shit-" Daryl tries to hold it back, he really, really does, but he has just enough time to push the kid off and then he comes hard, almost painfully hard, some of his cum hitting Glenn on his face, over that bright, soft hair.
Panting, Daryl stares at Glenn as he gives himself a few more pulls and comes, too, all over his slender fingers. Daryl watches it drip over the kid's pants and on the dirt. Daryl just watches because he doesn't know what he wants to do. He knows he should zip up his pants, grabs his crossbow and take off. It would be the smarter thing to do, he thinks.
So he does. Daryl walks away and he doesn't look back.
And it would be okay, it would be just something to feel slightly embarrassed about, something he would eventually forget once he finally meets and marries the right girl. The only problem is, that in this world, the right girl, if she is very, very lucky, is probably dead by now.
Daryl knows he should just forget about it. And he thinks he probably would have, if it hadn’t happened again.
And again and again.
It does feel like an arrangement, in the beginning.
It isn't smart for anyone to wander off alone and god forbid a walker decides to climb up the mountain, Daryl doesn’t want to be the one caught with his pants down. It's easier to have someone do the job so he has his hands free, his crossbow by his side, his eyes alert as they can be while having someone else's tongue on his cock.
They don't talk about it, of course.
Glenn is true to his word and he doesn't say anything back at the camp. He acts like nothing happened and he treats Daryl like he always did. Daryl tries to do the same and he thinks he succeeds. He thinks he catches Merle staring at him one afternoon with a funny look on his face, but again, it could be just the sun, because his brother says nothing. Merle has been in a good mood and Daryl doesn't have to worry about him too much these days.
The next time Daryl wanders into the woods, two days after, he is pretty sure he has been followed, only this time he doesn't raise his crossbow when he overhears the noise. He and Glenn stare at each other and as if there’s a mutual understanding the kid is on his knees a moment later and Daryl grabs his black hair between his fingers. And, after Daryl is finished, he only watches as Glenn jerks himself off. He tries to say to himself he is merely doing his part, making sure the kid isn't interrupted as he does his business, but Daryl knows he doesn't really mind being there. He hates himself for that, later, so he just tries not to think about it.
During the fifth time they're doing it, almost on a daily basis, Glenn doesn't let Daryl push him away when Daryl finds himself close, so the kid swallows down all of Daryl's cum, coming himself only a few seconds later, his tongue licking his lips clean as he wipes his dirty fingers on the grass, before he zips himself up.
"It's better this way," says Glenn out loud, then, and Daryl stops in his tracks. It is the first time that either of them has said a word on the matter. He looks down at Glenn, who just shudders like he isn't saying anything out of the ordinary. "It's a pain having to wash it off my hair every single time."
Daryl blinks. He grunts a 'whatever' before he takes off.
The sixth time they meet out in the woods, however, Daryl brings a canteen full of fresh water and a piece of washcloth along with him.
Apart from having someone to blow him, Daryl's routine doesn't change, much.
He still goes out and hunts and he watches the perimeter at night, so his brother can get his sleep. Of course he isn't doing this for Merle alone, but Daryl tries not to think too much about it, because he will start to notice how his eyes dart in Glenn's direction every now and then, and that probably would be bad.
Glenn is a good guy, though. He doesn't try to push whatever it is that they're doing. Not once has he tried to have Daryl touch him more than strictly necessary and Daryl is glad for it. He doesn't want to end their arrangement, but he doesn't know what he would do if the kid asked for a blowjob, too. There are boundaries, after all.
It's been one and a half weeks since he caught Glenn watching him when Daryl gets back from a hunt with a deer on his shoulders, and finds out that the camp just got three new members: an old man named Dale, who owns a trailer, and two sisters, Andrea and Amy.
Daryl catches Merle eyeing the older sister like most of the camp had looked at the deer he had dropped on the dirt once he arrived. The look in his eyes was unmistakably hungry. Daryl tries to locate Glenn, but he's nowhere to be found. He supposes the kid has probably gone down to the city to grab a few supplies.
It's funny, really. It seems to be another arrangement Daryl hadn't been informed about. Because, every time he goes hunting, the kid disappears from the camp as well. Daryl tries not to be too worried about the fact that he thinks it is nice and goes down to the quarry to wash the deer's blood off his shirt and arms.
Later, when they're preparing and salting the meat, Daryl sees Merle leering at the girls' group. They have their backs to them and as Andrea bends over to grab a box, Merle's grin goes wider.
"How about that, little brother." He laughs aloud. "Looks like fate's smilin' on the Dixons again. Two little yellow birds just happen to find this camp? What y' say?"
Daryl says nothing. The thought did cross his mind, of course. Amy looks so freaking much like the right girl. Young, pretty, perky, fragile. White. The kind of girl his parents would have loved him to bring home.
"Yeah," he says since Merle keeps staring at him, waiting for an answer. "They look nice."
"Nice? You fuckin' with me? It's Christmas come early, my man, and Santa got my gift wrapped and ready for me to open and-"
Daryl is saved from hearing the rest of Merle's sentence by a disturbance at the entrance of the camp. It's getting darker by the minute and he only recognizes Glenn once he gets closer. There are half a dozen people surrounding him and Daryl's heart skips a beat when he sees Glenn is injured, blood dripping all over his right arm, near his shoulder. He's trying to say something, but everybody is talking at the same time and pointing at his arm and all the blood and saying things like oh my god, he's infected and what are we going to do and-
"Hey!" Daryl shouts. "Would you shut the fuck up? The kid is trying to talk here."
Shane, T-Dog, Moralles and the others fall silent, probably because they are surprised by his outburst than anything else. Glenn looks so grateful and it's then that Daryl realizes the kid has lost his baseball cap. He looks so strange without it. Something really bad must have happened for him to leave it behind.
"I didn't get bitten, stop freaking out." Glenn's voice is firm, but Daryl can sense the weakness in it. "It's a clean cut, look." He tries to wipe the blood away and, indeed, it's a pretty clean cut, like it was made by some kind of blade. Nothing like a walker's bite, definitely. Thankfully. "I just got cut on a piece of glass when I was leaving a building, then I wrapped it with my shirt and ran off so the walkers wouldn't have time to smell it. It loosened up on my way here, so will you please quit staring and help me stitch this thing up?"
Nobody seems to want to. Daryl feels the kid's gaze on him and swears under his breath and goes to get a needle and hot water by the fire. Merle isn't paying attention, busy looking in Andrea's direction. Daryl gathers everything he thinks could be useful and gets back to where Glenn is, grabbing his bleeding arm and bracing himself against a tree. Daryl hands him a piece of cloth.
"Press it against your arm. Here-" Daryl shows him how. "I'm gonna need some light if you want me to do this right, so lemme start a fire first."
Glenn nods and does as he is told. Once the fire starts to grow, Daryl checks on his wound, but it starts to bleed the second he lifts the cloth. Daryl frowns and checks Glenn's temperature. The kid doesn't feel too hot, which is good, but the bleeding isn't stopping, which is bad. He probably isn't using enough pressure, since the kid lost all that blood. He must be feeling really weak. It's really a miracle he didn't pass out along the way. Daryl swears again and crouches in front of Glenn, pressing against the wound himself, hard. Glenn hisses through his teeth. He squeezes his eyes shut, but he doesn't complain.
"Sorry," says Daryl and he means it. "Got to stop the bleeding if you want to me to stitch it, okay?"
Glenn nods, his eyes still closed. They stay silent for a few minutes, Daryl checking on the wound from time to time, until the bleeding finally seems to stop. Daryl cleans it with warm water and realizes with a smile it isn't as deep as he thought it was.
"Look," he says and Glenn opens his eyes. "It isn't that bad, right?" The kid stares at him, then down to his wound. He nods and tries to smile but it's a weak version of one. "So." Daryl licks his lips. "I'm going to start and- it's probably going to hurt, but just try not to move, 'kay?"
Daryl gets his flask, filled with bourbon, and makes the kid drink some of it. Glenn makes a face, but doesn't spit it out. Daryl pours some over the wound and Glenn hisses and shuts his eyes again, but he doesn't move. Daryl gets the needle he's been keeping in the hot water, cleans it with bourbon and does the same with his hands. Then, as an afterthought, he gets a new piece of cloth and shoves it inside Glenn's mouth. Glenn's brown eyes grow wider and Daryl feels bad for him.
"Don't move," he repeats and with a deep breath, Daryl starts to stitch.
It seems to take forever. Shane and Moralles come by to check on them, but they leave as soon as they hear the girls starting to argue with Merle. Daryl shakes his head, trying to concentrate on his task, promising himself he will keep a closer eye on Merle, otherwise his brother will probably get them kicked out. Glenn has his eyes open the entire time, staring at Daryl over his wound. He doesn't try to take the cloth out of his mouth, blinking back tears every time Daryl inserts the needle into his skin. Daryl wants to say he's sorry every single time, but he knows he's doing the kid a favor. Nobody else would want to get within ten feet of him until they're sure he's not infected.
When Daryl is finally done, the camp seems to have settled down; everyone's gathered around the fire to feed on the deer he had brought in earlier. Daryl thought how the hunt feels like happening in another life. He shakes his head and cleans off the residual blood around Glenn's stitches, pours a few drops of bourbon over it one more time, makes a bandage and, after thinking about it for a second, puts Glenn's arm in an improvised sling.
"It's not broken," Glenn states, frowning. His eyes are threatening to close.
"Don't want you messing with these stitches," Daryl snaps back, but he isn't mad. "I ain't your nurse."
They stare at each other. Daryl frowns until Glenn cracks a weak smile.
"Thanks, Daryl," the kid says before he blinks, his eyes starting to close.
Daryl hesitates for a moment, but then he gives Glenn a feeble slap on his cheek. "Hey, don't doze off on me, kid." Glenn looks at him, obviously more than ready to do exactly that. Daryl pities him, but he knows he can't let the kid sleep, not yet. "Come on. Stay up for a little bit more, would you? Let's get you somethin' to eat."
And even if Daryl had stayed up the night before, hunting, he also volunteers to watch the perimeter, along with the new guy, Dale. He sits by the fire, only embers by now, and doesn't have the heart to shove Glenn off when he feels the kid dropping his head on his shoulder.
The first time they do it inside Glenn's tent happens exactly three days after his accident. They shouldn't, Daryl knows that, but Glenn insists. Well, implies it, at least. The day is just breaking and the kid opens his tent and stares at Daryl, who's standing only a few yards away, finishing with his watch. Glenn doesn't make a move, just looks up at him, but Daryl understands. He hasn't gotten off for almost a week and, well, if they are really quick, what's the harm.
Daryl fumbles with his zipper, trying to yank it down, so Glenn can pull his cock out. He supports himself on his elbows so he can look at Glenn's lips, working up and down on his cock, his injured arm just staying there, his left hand wrapped around the base so he can slide it inside his mouth without gagging. Daryl feels a familiar warm feeling building up inside him, from the tip of his toes all the way to his lungs as he slowly runs out of air. He feels something hard pressing against his thigh and he realizes it must be Glenn's dick.
Shit, Daryl thinks and tries to move his body aside just a little, but Glenn chooses that exact moment to start to lick his balls and Daryl momentarily forgets his own name.
He comes down Glenn's throat a couple of minutes later and he only remembers about Glenn's hard dick against his leg once he notices the kid is having real trouble taking care of himself using only his left hand. Daryl bites his lower lip at the view and grunts and thinks hell with it as he shoves Glenn's hand away and grasps the kid's aching cock.
Glenn's eyes go wider and a deep, harsh moan escapes from his swollen lips. Daryl tries not to think about having another's man dick between his fingers as he increases the pace, staring into Glenn's eyes, his eyelids slipping close. He watches when the kid bites on his lips, making them even more swollen and red than they were before. Daryl tries to ignore the growing heat between his fingers, the pulsing he can literally see in the artery that seems to threaten to burst out of the kid's neck.
It takes Glenn at least a minute to come. He snatches Daryl's fingers away at the last second and grabs his own cock to prevent his cum from hitting Daryl and Daryl doesn't know how he should feel about that. He doesn't give it too much thought, though.
Daryl is a little more concerned about the fact that the look on Glenn's face, right as he came, having Daryl's hand on him, is definitely one of the most stunning things he has ever seen.
Sometimes, Daryl dreams.
At least, sometimes Daryl remembers his dreams. He read somewhere that people dreamt every night, and that sometimes they just don't remember them. He read that everyone needs to dream, or they would all go crazy. Not dreaming isn't an option, it seems. And sometimes Daryl's dreams feel like actual dreams, not the usual screaming-trapped-inside-your-immobilized-body-as-an-ugly-walker-chewing-up-your-mommy-and-daddy.
Daryl dreams about when he was a child. He dreams about the time he was six and his dad taught him how to ride his bike and his mom took care of his bruised knee after he fell after trying to ride it for the first time without the training wheels. In his dream, instead of laughing at him, Merle helps him up and offers him a pillion ride on his own big bike.
They ride and ride until Daryl isn't able to see the ranch or heard his mom and dad's voice anymore. It's nightfall when they finally reach a cliff, with this gorgeous lake just down the hill. Merle makes a fire and promises to take Daryl to swim and fish the following morning. They have marshmallows for dinner around the fire and they talk about how it would be to just drive around the country and to meet new people, people that would be so different from those at home.
Then they hear a noise coming from the bushes. Merle is up on his feet and he covers Daryl with his body, trying to protect his little brother and Daryl feels glad, but soon Merle lets him see what's going on, because it's just another boy, a bit smaller than the two of them. The kid wears a baseball cap, but Daryl can see that his hair is pitch black and that his eyes are just like from those fighters in the kung-fu movies on TV. Daryl wonders if the kid knows how to fight like that and if he can teach him. Maybe if they become friends, he thinks, and he takes a step forward, offering the kid a marshmallow.
Daryl wakes up when someone in the camp starts to scream from a nightmare of their own.
Glenn loses his stitches on the sixth day and as Daryl cleans the closed wound with what's left of his bourbon he asks if the kid would like to learn how to shoot. Glenn frowns at him for a second, before he says yes.
Daryl doesn't really know why he's doing this, except that it feels like the right thing to do. He had given it a thought or two while the kid spent the last few days recovering from his wound. Although he avoids Glenn's eyes in the days after he jerked him off, Daryl eventually comes to his senses and tells himself it isn't really a big deal. The kid had wanted to get off and he had been injured and Daryl had a pair of good hands and he was just doing him a favor. They're... they're not exactly friends, but they do have something and since Daryl isn't going to forbid the kid to go to the city to get them supplies, at the same time it doesn't feel right to let something bad like that happen to him again. This last time was only a piece of glass, but who knows what might happen next? They can't afford to lose people. At least that's what Daryl thinks when he and Glenn make their way into the woods first thing the next morning.
Once they walk a decent distance, Daryl pulls out his crossbow and hands it over to Glenn. The kid stares at it for a second, and then he cracks up. Daryl frowns because he can't see what is so funny about his crossbow, so he just stares back at Glenn, whose face is suddenly red with choked laughing, tears starting to fall from the corner of his eyes.
"Sorry," breathes Glenn once he gets it under control. "Sorry, it's just, I thought-"
"What?" Daryl snaps. He has this ugly feeling that he's the reason Glenn's laughing and he doesn't like it.
"It's just-" Glenn shakes his head. "Look, I just thought you offered to teach me so we could be alone. I- I'm sorry, I should know by now that you aren't the kind of guy who needs an excuse."
Daryl blinks at Glenn, but yeah, he does see the point. "Some dirty mind you have going in there, kid." He grins and feels strangely relieved once Glenn grins back at him. "Come on, let's do it."
They practice for an entire morning and most of the afternoon. Half of the squirrels they bring back to camp are brought down by Glenn.
Being useful must waken something inside Glenn, because he starts to talk about going down to the city the very next day. Daryl feels this nasty pinch inside his gut once Glenn lets the words out, but he doesn't say a thing. Everyone is gathered around the fire and Lori chooses that exact moment to say they're almost out of salt and canned beans. Shane nods and it sounds like a decision.
Daryl feels angry, because none of them have left the camp since he got there and he and Glenn have to do all the dirty work by themselves. He opens his mouth, knowing he probably will regret it the moment he speaks, but it's already too late.
"I don't think the kid should keep doing this by himself," he says and every pair of eyes snaps back at him, Merle's and Glenn's included. Glenn's mouth is slightly open. "I mean, he could have died the last time and we'd be one man short... besides losin' the supplies," he adds when he notices Merle's deep frown. Glenn's eyes are wide open.
There's a long, awkward silence. It's T-Dog who breaks it.
"You know, the dude is right. Glenn shouldn't go alone," he says and Daryl has to chew on his lip to not reply. This isn't what he had in mind. He wanted other people to volunteer to do this too, for a change, or at least to offer to go with Glenn himself without raising any suspicions and he definitely didn't want to have to take the nigger along with them. Daryl opens his mouth to try to say something, but unfortunately Merle has the very same idea.
"You all losin' your goddamn minds if you're thinkin' I'm about to let you-" he points a finger at T-Dog, "touch the food I eat."
T-Dog is on his feet in a second. Merle doesn't seem to be bothered, but Daryl spots his brother's rifle lying close by. "Well, I don't see your stupid face doing a thing about that," T-Dog barks and the awkward silence is replaced by a mix of voices yelling at Merle or agreeing with T-Dog or telling T-Dog that it isn't worth it. Shane gets up to put himself between T-Dog and Merle.
Daryl knows that in moments like these he should have his brother's back, but the truth is he feels a little tempted to punch Merle, too, because it's so fucking stupid to say every little thing that comes to mind. It's when Glenn decides to interfere.
"Drop it, both of you," he says and all the voices stop. "I'm not taking anyone if you people behave like this."
Everyone is staring at Glenn now and Daryl knows he can't just announce he wants in without attracting even more attention than he already had, and then T-Dog is nodding and saying Glenn he's sorry and that he's going, too, if Glenn will let him. Daryl swears to himself and looks at Merle, who has a smirk on his face. But once Andrea says she's in as well, his brother says that no one is stopping him from coming along.
In the end, a total of five others volunteer to leave first thing in the morning with Glenn and Daryl hasn't open his mouth since he was the one who started the matter in the first place.
"I'm about to spend a whole day with your brother. Any words of wisdom?"
Daryl stops cleaning his arrows. Glenn has his backpack and he's ready to go. They usually don't do this. Say goodbye. Daryl doesn't like it. It feels like something bad will happen. He's not superstitious, he just has a feeling. Women would call it intuition; Daryl calls it his survival instinct.
He blinks when he realizes Glenn hasn't moved. He's actually waiting for an answer.
Daryl sighs. "Just let him talk." He starts cleaning again, although his arrows are already as clean as they will ever get. "And try to keep the nigger away from him."
He's isn't looking up, so he can't see the Glenn's face. Daryl hears his annoyed grunt, though. He looks up. The kid looks like someone has just insulted his own mother.
"What?" Daryl shrugs. "You asked."
Glenn fumbles with the straps of his backpack, like he's deciding what to say next. Daryl hopes he stays silent. He didn't take that kind of shit from his girlfriends, let alone from some China boy he just let suck his cock every now and then.
"You're not your brother, Daryl."
Daryl blinks at Glenn's words. Hell, he knows it. He agrees with it, even, but it doesn't give Glenn the right to say it aloud. Daryl takes a deep breath and stops what he's doing. Things aren't going to get very far if he acts like this. Better to just get this over with.
"What the fuck do you mean?" Daryl snarls. He wonders if not being like Merle means he's less of a man. He wants to ask if that means that Glenn would like to have his brother shoving his dick into the kid's mouth instead of him. Daryl also knows it's a very cruel thing to think, but he can't help it. But he isn't like his brother, so he doesn't say any of it.
"Just that you're nothing like him," Glenn replies with a small shrug. "You don't have to say things you don't want to, just because he would. We could be your people, too, you know. All of us."
As he says it, Glenn turns his back to leave and Daryl swears under his breath, because he knows the kid is right. It isn't smart to fight the only people in the world that can help you. It isn't smart to call them a nigger, even if it's what they are. Daryl doesn't hate people just because. He doesn't hate these people and he definitely doesn't hate Glenn. The kid is right. He's nothing like his brother. He wants them all to get back safe and he doesn't want to let Glenn head out feeling mad at him.
"Wait-" he calls and Glenn stops, though the kid doesn't look back. Daryl can see the rigid line of his shoulders. Glenn is not even a bit happy about their talk either.
Daryl sighs and searches inside his bag until he finds what he's looking for. He had planned to give it to Glenn later, when he got back, maybe after they, they-
Shit.
What the hell was he thinking?
"Here," Daryl says and the kid turns. Glenn's eyes grow wider once he sees what Daryl has in his hand because it's Glenn's hat. "Found it earlier, when I was searchin' for one of my arrows. Thought you'd like to have it back."
Glenn doesn't move. He keeps staring from the hat in his hands back to Daryl's face. He touches his right arm, right where Daryl had stitched him up. Daryl watches the corner of his mouth start to twitch. Daryl doesn't know if he wants to hear whatever Glenn is planning to say, so he gets up and puts the hat on Glenn’s head, adjusting the fit. For a second or two Daryl gets to feel the softness of his hair. He gets a glimpse of Glenn's eyes before he lets go.
"There you are." Daryl's arms fall along his body. His fingertips itch for the loss, but he just ignores the feeling.
Glenn licks his lips and raises his head to look Daryl in the eye. "Thanks," he says, but he leaves his mouth open for a second and Daryl knows the kid isn't done, though he can't figure out what else is left to say. They hear a voice outside.
"Glenn, Glenn? Man, you in there?"
It's Moralles. They're going to be late leaving camp. Daryl grunts, equal parts annoyed and relieved, as Glenn casts him one last, lingering look, before he sneaks out of the tent.
This has got to be the worst day of his life, Daryl thinks.
And, keeping in mind how shitty the whole world has gotten lately, well, it says something. Not only has he stayed up all night tracking a deer only to watch it get chewed up by a fucking walker, he also has to feel the sensation, the terrible feeling that his brother was dead for the longest fifteen seconds of his life, just so he could learn that Merle was, in fact, left handcuffed on a roof in Atlanta and might end up dead anyway if he didn't get down to the city fast enough.
And it just keeps getting worse.
He didn't really want Glenn to go with them; he's mad and so he kicks the turning wheel to blare the horn. He yells come on, let's go and doesn't meet the kid's eyes. He's mad because Glenn was one of those who left his brother behind. The feeling weakens as they ride to the city and it almost vanishes once Glenn agrees to get Merle first then the guns, even if there's not much left to find, once they reach the top of the building. The kid also doesn't complain about having to carry Merle's severed hand and he seems to feel terribly bad about what happened. Every time Daryl looks at him, the kid's face is covered in shame.
In the end, Glenn is also the one who comes up with the plan to get the guns so they can go out looking for his brother. Daryl doesn't know if Glenn is doing this for him, for that Rick Grimes fellow or for himself, so when the kid says Daryl is coming along with him, Daryl can't help asking him why. He has to admit the kid had showed some courage, though, and he even feels like forgiving him for leaving his brother behind- but then those bastards appear out of nowhere, kick him to ground, grab the kid and take off.
Even now, as they try to make the douchebag who didn't manage to escape spit out something useful, he can't turn off the sound of Glenn shouting out his name. It lingers against his skin and stings every time Daryl closes his eyes. The kid had begged for him and Daryl just wasn't fast enough.
He tries to keep his head cool, though. They're at a loss, but they have the guns. The smartest move would be to end that fucking deadweight Rick's trying to make cooperate and then make their way back to the camp. He doesn't want to leave the kid behind, but who can guarantee they can get him back, even if they hand over the guns? What would they really be gambling with? The guns? Their own lives?
Both?
Rick won't hear it, though. This man, a man who only knew the kid for one day, this man is willing to risk his life, the safety of his own family, all for Glenn. Daryl can't help it. He feels ashamed of himself. He feels like covering his face like Glenn did when Daryl called them sorry pricks for leaving his brother behind. He remembers what Glenn said back at the camp, before he went down to the city with Merle and the others.
We could be your people, the kid had said.
And one of the last things Daryl had said to him was that Daryl didn't even like him much. He didn't mean that, of course, and deep, deep down he thinks Glenn understands. Daryl hopes he does, because the truth is...Merle could be dead by now. His brother might have passed out in some dirty alley and been eaten by a bunch of geeks. And Daryl will have no one. He will be just like Glenn.
Everybody wants to have somebody come back for them. And Daryl knows, and he hates himself for knowing it, that Glenn would do it for him without even blinking an eye. He did it for a complete stranger, didn't he? Glenn sure would do that for someone he considered his people.
And Daryl doesn't know what to say when they find out the kid is okay.
He doesn't know if he's even allowed to say anything. The only thing he does is to get Glenn's shirt, the shirt he had grabbed back in the alley, before they got attacked, and hand it to the kid. Glenn stares at it for a minute and sighs audibly before putting the shirt on. He doesn't say thanks, but Daryl thinks it is okay. Glenn is probably just tired. Daryl's also tired, and glad Glenn's safe.
After that, Daryl doesn't really think about his brother until they make their way to where they parked the van, too worried about the guns and ammo left behind, but once they find the empty spot and Rick vocalizes his thoughts, Daryl realizes what Merle might do to the camp. He also thinks that they can handle Merle, yes, if they stick together. His brother might be the toughest asshole Daryl knows, but he's also one hand short and he lost a lot of blood and, and- Daryl and the others are in this together. He's still mad about what they did to his brother, but he knows his brother and Daryl knows they probably did what was necessary when they left him on that roof. He doesn't like it, sure thing he doesn't, but he does understand it. They have to do what's necessary now, too.
When the day started, Daryl didn't plan to end it thinking about how to stop his own brother from hurting the people he never wanted to call his. But that's all he can think about as they run up the mountain, night falling around them, his crossbow against his back, a shotgun solid in his hands. He glances at Glenn, only a few steps ahead, and knows that he has the kid's back this time. Daryl decides he won't fail him again. He won't have to, he knows. He hopes he won’t have to, at least. Maybe Merle went somewhere else. Maybe they'll be okay.
This fucking day can't get any worse, after all, right. It just can't.
Until he hears the shouting and the screaming coming from the camp.
[Part #2]