FIC: Protection (Part I)
Title: Protection
Author: KenoyerGrrl
Summary: The group is at the prison, some time after Andrea and Michonne have discovered them and settled in. Daryl and Andrea have stricken up a friendship and maybe something more. She invites him to hang out at her cell for an evening, but Daryl panics a bit...
Summary note: I've read before that Norman Reedus has tried to play Daryl as a psychologically-damaged and socially-awkward virgin. Wanted to explore the “virgin” aspect a little bit...
Rating: T
A/N: Thanks so much to cemeterydreamer for being my Beta reviewer for my "virgin" D/A fic. Your comments were invaluable and I implemented every single one of them. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, but sometimes, it damn well owns me. This is just for fun; I have no intention of copyright infringement.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Jesus!!” Daryl jumped at the sound of Glenn's voice. Oh, shit.
Glenn eyed the drugstore shipping carton on the floor and the opened box of condoms on his and Maggie's bed. He then raised an eyebrow at Daryl.
Oh, for Christ's sakes, Daryl thought, feeling his face grow hot. Mortally embarrassed, he slapped his forehead with his palm and looked away. Caught red-handed, stealing rubbers from a young cat who was only beginning to trust that Daryl wasn't going to pull any crazy shit.
Surprisingly, Glenn was good-natured about the whole thing. “Dude,” he said, as if the whole breaking-and-entering act of violating his and Maggie's private space was no big deal, “You could've just asked me for those things.”
Daryl didn't respond. What the hell could he say? More than that, what was Glenn expecting him to have said when putting forth such a request? Oh, hey, man, this shit is all new to me, and it's really freaking impossible to even talk about it. With friends, with other chicks; never even talked about it with my own fucking brother. But could I borrow a condom? I didn't mean “borrow”; I won't give the damn thing back or anything. Hey, how do you use these things, anyway? Yeah, that would go over well.
“Sorry I busted into your room,” Daryl finally said, looking at his toes with his arms crossed. He saw a pebble on the stone floor and kicked it under the bed.
“Hey, don't do that,” Glenn protested, getting on his hands and knees and fishing for the pebble, “Maggie gets on my ass about keeping this room clean. She doesn't like it when people - you know.”
Pussy-whipped chump, Daryl caught himself thinking, and then immediately felt guilty. He was the one who was pilfering condoms from the couple's room. What had Glenn ever done to him?
Glenn found the offending pebble and threw it into the wastebasket next to the bed. He then stood up, mirroring Daryl's stance by crossing his arms and staring at him paternally. Daryl glanced back at him, then averted his gaze, feeling ashamed and pissed at himself. He stared at the makeshift poster Maggie had hung up; it was actually the inside foldout of a Pearl Jam CD she'd found wedged underneath one of the cots' mattresses.
Looking back at Glenn, he could see the younger man giving him that same damned dad-like stare. He suddenly felt very much like a child being reprimanded for getting his hands on the game controller when he should have been doing his homework.
Finally, Glenn marched to the shipping carton and retrieved a full, unopened box of Trojans. He tossed it for Daryl to catch, saying, “Take it. Maggie's gotten us enough to last the next five years, maybe.”
Daryl sheepishly concealed the box in one of his vest's pockets and hurriedly turned to leave. He needed to get the fuck out of there. “Thanks,” he muttered, and sauntered out the doorway.
He thought that was the end of it until Glenn uttered a one-word question that stopped Daryl in his tracks just outside the doorway.
“Instructions??”
Oh...fuck me.
Again, Daryl felt a wave of embarrassment crest over him and turn him red-faced. Glenn bent down to the floor and picked up the open black-and-white insert by a corner, its flattened creases showing after having been folded multiple times to fit the compact box.
A half-horrified, half-amused look bloomed on Glenn's face. “You've never used a condom before, have you?”
Defeated, Daryl leaned against the doorframe, punching it hard for good measure. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, “Shit shit shit.”
Glenn's voice dropped an octave, and a few notches in volume. “You're a virgin??”
His forehead still on his forearm, Daryl didn't look at him. “Shut the fuck up, Glenn,” was all he could think of saying.
Already, Glenn was going into walk-it-back Glenn mode. “Or... maybe you're gay and you're used to going bareback. Or maybe you had girlfriends who always used the Pill or something like - ”
“I SAID, shut the fuck UP, Glenn,” he groaned more insistently into his arm.
Glenn seemed more than happy to wait till Daryl had the courage to look at him again. Feigning an air of cockiness, all Daryl could manage was to give Glenn one of the sneers for which he reckoned he'd become famous around their bumbling prison party.
“So...” Glenn urged with a teasing smile, but also-Daryl thought-a touch of concern, “Have you ever been with anyone, man?”
“None of your fucking business,” Daryl muttered, suspecting his answer was as good as, Why yes, I am a thirty-five-year-old virgin loser. Christ, my life is shit, Daryl thought miserably, What the hell would Andrea want to do with an asshole like me?
“Dude, you're the one skulking around my room, trolling for rubbers.”
“Still none of your fucking business.” He scowled at the younger man, but knew Glenn was right. What the hell was he doing in Glenn and Maggie's private space, anyway? You earned this, he told himself. You bought the right to be humiliated, so lie in your fucking bed and suck it up.
Glenn folded the condom instructions twice and handed them to Daryl. “Well, you might need these,” he said, “But even more than just the technicalities of wearing a rainjacket...whoever it is-and I know it's none of my business-do you know what you're going to do?”
Daryl's mind drew a blank, and then Andrea's face filled the empty space in it. Shit, what the fuck was he going to do? He hadn't even really created any fantasy-like scenarios in his head of how the big day, whenever that was, would go. He wasn't good at that Harlequin romance-novel shit. What if he got to her cell that night, just as she'd invited him, only to make himself look like a clueless dumbass?
And a disappointment, he added to himself. Not wanting to be a disappointment was a huge part of why he'd time and again pushed away all the women he'd had the faintest of opportunities to sleep with, back when the world was normal and no walkers were around to fuck it up even more than it already was. If he ever let a woman get that close to him, would she like what she saw when she was up that close? Would Andrea?
“Well, man, the most important thing to do is just relax, and not dwell on it too much,” Glenn started warmly, putting a buddy-like hand on Daryl's shoulder. The look on Daryl's face must've signaled to Glenn that now was the time to start dispensing man-to-man advice.
“Glenn-no hard feelings, but please shut the hell up,” Daryl said, tugging his shoulder away from the other man's gentle grip. He folded up the instructions two more times and pocketed them. “I'm scared shitless about this already, and I'm not in the mood for male bonding crap.”
“Okay. Whatever, man. Just go with the flow.” Glenn looked away, a bit hurt that Daryl was rebuffing his advice, but hell, “Whatever” was all right in Daryl's book.
At that moment, remembering how piss-poor Glenn was at keeping secrets, Daryl straightened himself out and got up in Glenn's grill. “You tell anyone in the group about this -ANYONE- and I swear to God, I will fucking tear you another asshole.”
Nervously, Glenn raised his own hands protectively in front of him. “You have my word. Scout's honor.”
“Not even Maggie.”
Glenn nodded. “I won't even tell Maggie, I swear.” Daryl seriously doubted he'd be able to keep it from her that well, but he hoped at least she wouldn't go telegraphing it to the group, if Glenn did predictably spill the beans during a pillow chat.
Finally, Daryl backed away from him and edged toward the door. “All right, then. Thanks again for the - ” he slapped a hand twice on the vest pocket that held his care package. “And sorry, again, about... you know, sneakin' and shit.”
“Don't worry about it,” Glenn said, with a wry smile. “Hey, man, it better not be Beth, or Hersh's gonna bust a nut. And not his.”
“It's not Beth. I'll tell you that much,” he replied curtly, and strode as rapidly as he could down the cell block corridor.
THE END (for now)
Author: KenoyerGrrl
Summary: The group is at the prison, some time after Andrea and Michonne have discovered them and settled in. Daryl and Andrea have stricken up a friendship and maybe something more. She invites him to hang out at her cell for an evening, but Daryl panics a bit...
Summary note: I've read before that Norman Reedus has tried to play Daryl as a psychologically-damaged and socially-awkward virgin. Wanted to explore the “virgin” aspect a little bit...
Rating: T
A/N: Thanks so much to cemeterydreamer for being my Beta reviewer for my "virgin" D/A fic. Your comments were invaluable and I implemented every single one of them. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, but sometimes, it damn well owns me. This is just for fun; I have no intention of copyright infringement.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Jesus!!” Daryl jumped at the sound of Glenn's voice. Oh, shit.
Glenn eyed the drugstore shipping carton on the floor and the opened box of condoms on his and Maggie's bed. He then raised an eyebrow at Daryl.
Oh, for Christ's sakes, Daryl thought, feeling his face grow hot. Mortally embarrassed, he slapped his forehead with his palm and looked away. Caught red-handed, stealing rubbers from a young cat who was only beginning to trust that Daryl wasn't going to pull any crazy shit.
Surprisingly, Glenn was good-natured about the whole thing. “Dude,” he said, as if the whole breaking-and-entering act of violating his and Maggie's private space was no big deal, “You could've just asked me for those things.”
Daryl didn't respond. What the hell could he say? More than that, what was Glenn expecting him to have said when putting forth such a request? Oh, hey, man, this shit is all new to me, and it's really freaking impossible to even talk about it. With friends, with other chicks; never even talked about it with my own fucking brother. But could I borrow a condom? I didn't mean “borrow”; I won't give the damn thing back or anything. Hey, how do you use these things, anyway? Yeah, that would go over well.
“Sorry I busted into your room,” Daryl finally said, looking at his toes with his arms crossed. He saw a pebble on the stone floor and kicked it under the bed.
“Hey, don't do that,” Glenn protested, getting on his hands and knees and fishing for the pebble, “Maggie gets on my ass about keeping this room clean. She doesn't like it when people - you know.”
Pussy-whipped chump, Daryl caught himself thinking, and then immediately felt guilty. He was the one who was pilfering condoms from the couple's room. What had Glenn ever done to him?
Glenn found the offending pebble and threw it into the wastebasket next to the bed. He then stood up, mirroring Daryl's stance by crossing his arms and staring at him paternally. Daryl glanced back at him, then averted his gaze, feeling ashamed and pissed at himself. He stared at the makeshift poster Maggie had hung up; it was actually the inside foldout of a Pearl Jam CD she'd found wedged underneath one of the cots' mattresses.
Looking back at Glenn, he could see the younger man giving him that same damned dad-like stare. He suddenly felt very much like a child being reprimanded for getting his hands on the game controller when he should have been doing his homework.
Finally, Glenn marched to the shipping carton and retrieved a full, unopened box of Trojans. He tossed it for Daryl to catch, saying, “Take it. Maggie's gotten us enough to last the next five years, maybe.”
Daryl sheepishly concealed the box in one of his vest's pockets and hurriedly turned to leave. He needed to get the fuck out of there. “Thanks,” he muttered, and sauntered out the doorway.
He thought that was the end of it until Glenn uttered a one-word question that stopped Daryl in his tracks just outside the doorway.
“Instructions??”
Oh...fuck me.
Again, Daryl felt a wave of embarrassment crest over him and turn him red-faced. Glenn bent down to the floor and picked up the open black-and-white insert by a corner, its flattened creases showing after having been folded multiple times to fit the compact box.
A half-horrified, half-amused look bloomed on Glenn's face. “You've never used a condom before, have you?”
Defeated, Daryl leaned against the doorframe, punching it hard for good measure. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, “Shit shit shit.”
Glenn's voice dropped an octave, and a few notches in volume. “You're a virgin??”
His forehead still on his forearm, Daryl didn't look at him. “Shut the fuck up, Glenn,” was all he could think of saying.
Already, Glenn was going into walk-it-back Glenn mode. “Or... maybe you're gay and you're used to going bareback. Or maybe you had girlfriends who always used the Pill or something like - ”
“I SAID, shut the fuck UP, Glenn,” he groaned more insistently into his arm.
Glenn seemed more than happy to wait till Daryl had the courage to look at him again. Feigning an air of cockiness, all Daryl could manage was to give Glenn one of the sneers for which he reckoned he'd become famous around their bumbling prison party.
“So...” Glenn urged with a teasing smile, but also-Daryl thought-a touch of concern, “Have you ever been with anyone, man?”
“None of your fucking business,” Daryl muttered, suspecting his answer was as good as, Why yes, I am a thirty-five-year-old virgin loser. Christ, my life is shit, Daryl thought miserably, What the hell would Andrea want to do with an asshole like me?
“Dude, you're the one skulking around my room, trolling for rubbers.”
“Still none of your fucking business.” He scowled at the younger man, but knew Glenn was right. What the hell was he doing in Glenn and Maggie's private space, anyway? You earned this, he told himself. You bought the right to be humiliated, so lie in your fucking bed and suck it up.
Glenn folded the condom instructions twice and handed them to Daryl. “Well, you might need these,” he said, “But even more than just the technicalities of wearing a rainjacket...whoever it is-and I know it's none of my business-do you know what you're going to do?”
Daryl's mind drew a blank, and then Andrea's face filled the empty space in it. Shit, what the fuck was he going to do? He hadn't even really created any fantasy-like scenarios in his head of how the big day, whenever that was, would go. He wasn't good at that Harlequin romance-novel shit. What if he got to her cell that night, just as she'd invited him, only to make himself look like a clueless dumbass?
And a disappointment, he added to himself. Not wanting to be a disappointment was a huge part of why he'd time and again pushed away all the women he'd had the faintest of opportunities to sleep with, back when the world was normal and no walkers were around to fuck it up even more than it already was. If he ever let a woman get that close to him, would she like what she saw when she was up that close? Would Andrea?
“Well, man, the most important thing to do is just relax, and not dwell on it too much,” Glenn started warmly, putting a buddy-like hand on Daryl's shoulder. The look on Daryl's face must've signaled to Glenn that now was the time to start dispensing man-to-man advice.
“Glenn-no hard feelings, but please shut the hell up,” Daryl said, tugging his shoulder away from the other man's gentle grip. He folded up the instructions two more times and pocketed them. “I'm scared shitless about this already, and I'm not in the mood for male bonding crap.”
“Okay. Whatever, man. Just go with the flow.” Glenn looked away, a bit hurt that Daryl was rebuffing his advice, but hell, “Whatever” was all right in Daryl's book.
At that moment, remembering how piss-poor Glenn was at keeping secrets, Daryl straightened himself out and got up in Glenn's grill. “You tell anyone in the group about this -ANYONE- and I swear to God, I will fucking tear you another asshole.”
Nervously, Glenn raised his own hands protectively in front of him. “You have my word. Scout's honor.”
“Not even Maggie.”
Glenn nodded. “I won't even tell Maggie, I swear.” Daryl seriously doubted he'd be able to keep it from her that well, but he hoped at least she wouldn't go telegraphing it to the group, if Glenn did predictably spill the beans during a pillow chat.
Finally, Daryl backed away from him and edged toward the door. “All right, then. Thanks again for the - ” he slapped a hand twice on the vest pocket that held his care package. “And sorry, again, about... you know, sneakin' and shit.”
“Don't worry about it,” Glenn said, with a wry smile. “Hey, man, it better not be Beth, or Hersh's gonna bust a nut. And not his.”
“It's not Beth. I'll tell you that much,” he replied curtly, and strode as rapidly as he could down the cell block corridor.
THE END (for now)