Walking Dead Fanfic: "Stay"
Title: Stay
Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV)
Characters: Daryl/Glenn
Rating: PG
Word Count: 614
Summary: He don't need them. He don't need Glenn, with his stupid grin and his stupid hat.
Notes: Episode 105 gapfiller. Written for tamingthemuse, prompt "incorporeal"
Stay
by Severina
He could leave right now. Now that he's defended the camp. Now that he's caved in a dozen skulls so nobody gets up and starts walkin' again. Now that he's put in his pound of sweat, broke his damn back filling in the dirt on meaningless graves when they should've just burned all the damn bodies.
He could be back in Atlanta by sundown. Find some place to hole up, then go back to the department store in the morning.
He don't need these people.
Hell, it ain't like nobody'd even notice he was gone, least not 'til there weren't no fresh meat on their plates at supper.
He's edging away from the group, trying to decide how much of their limited supplies it's fair for him to take, when the chinaman looks up and catches his eye.
Glenn. His name is Glenn.
Daryl shuffles to a stop when the kid steps away from the map spread out on the hood of the car, bites at the inside of his cheek and tells himself his heart ain't beatin' extra fast when the kid crosses the clearing to stand in front of him.
"I'm sorry," the kid says.
Daryl frowns, squints down at the dirt. Sorry's are pointless. Sorry's don't make shit better. Sorry don't make the beat down hurt any less, don't make all the pain go away. Sorry is just what people say to make themselves feel better. He's got no use for the kid's damn Sorry.
"For all of it," Glenn continues. "Yelling at you earlier. Freaking you out back in Atlanta." He takes a breath. "Merle."
Daryl winces at his brother's name. He knew it was a bad idea for Merle to go on that run. He knew it, and said it, and Merle cuffed him on the head and called him a pussy for choosin' to go hunting for a bunch of useless city folk instead of facin' down walkers. Didn't matter to him none that the group gotta eat. Didn't matter to him none that the only reason the rest of 'em turned a blind eye to Merle's snide little comments was 'cause Daryl was puttin' meat in the communal pot every damn night.
"He's not a good man, Daryl-"
Daryl's chin comes up. "You don't know shit about my brother," he snaps out.
"-but if you want to go back and pick up the trail, I'll go with you," Glenn continues.
Daryl's eyes narrow. In his experience, nobody's gonna do something like that for nothin'. But the kid just looks nervous. And scared shitless.
It'd be a hell of a lot easier with two people. Except Daryl is nothing if not a realist, and it's only by Glenn saying it aloud that he's forced to admit it - finding Merle at all is nothing but a pipe dream.
"Nah," Daryl says. "Can't track on cement. Merle's long gone."
"Okay," Glenn breathes out. And sure, he looks relieved. Who wouldn't? Daryl ain't gonna hold that against him. Glenn reaches out hesitantly, fingers barely brushing against his skin; smiles just as tentatively. "Get some sleep, then. I'll see you in the morning."
Daryl watches him walk away, hand coming up to rub at his chin. Watches Glenn lean one hip against the car, smile and nod at something Shane says. Watches him tug at the brim of his cap. Watches him bend his head back to the map, one long finger tracing a line on the paper.
He don't need them. He don't need Glenn, with his stupid grin and his stupid hat.
He can still feel the heat of Glenn's fingertips on his arm.
He's not going anywhere.
.
Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV)
Characters: Daryl/Glenn
Rating: PG
Word Count: 614
Summary: He don't need them. He don't need Glenn, with his stupid grin and his stupid hat.
Notes: Episode 105 gapfiller. Written for tamingthemuse, prompt "incorporeal"
Stay
by Severina
He could leave right now. Now that he's defended the camp. Now that he's caved in a dozen skulls so nobody gets up and starts walkin' again. Now that he's put in his pound of sweat, broke his damn back filling in the dirt on meaningless graves when they should've just burned all the damn bodies.
He could be back in Atlanta by sundown. Find some place to hole up, then go back to the department store in the morning.
He don't need these people.
Hell, it ain't like nobody'd even notice he was gone, least not 'til there weren't no fresh meat on their plates at supper.
He's edging away from the group, trying to decide how much of their limited supplies it's fair for him to take, when the chinaman looks up and catches his eye.
Glenn. His name is Glenn.
Daryl shuffles to a stop when the kid steps away from the map spread out on the hood of the car, bites at the inside of his cheek and tells himself his heart ain't beatin' extra fast when the kid crosses the clearing to stand in front of him.
"I'm sorry," the kid says.
Daryl frowns, squints down at the dirt. Sorry's are pointless. Sorry's don't make shit better. Sorry don't make the beat down hurt any less, don't make all the pain go away. Sorry is just what people say to make themselves feel better. He's got no use for the kid's damn Sorry.
"For all of it," Glenn continues. "Yelling at you earlier. Freaking you out back in Atlanta." He takes a breath. "Merle."
Daryl winces at his brother's name. He knew it was a bad idea for Merle to go on that run. He knew it, and said it, and Merle cuffed him on the head and called him a pussy for choosin' to go hunting for a bunch of useless city folk instead of facin' down walkers. Didn't matter to him none that the group gotta eat. Didn't matter to him none that the only reason the rest of 'em turned a blind eye to Merle's snide little comments was 'cause Daryl was puttin' meat in the communal pot every damn night.
"He's not a good man, Daryl-"
Daryl's chin comes up. "You don't know shit about my brother," he snaps out.
"-but if you want to go back and pick up the trail, I'll go with you," Glenn continues.
Daryl's eyes narrow. In his experience, nobody's gonna do something like that for nothin'. But the kid just looks nervous. And scared shitless.
It'd be a hell of a lot easier with two people. Except Daryl is nothing if not a realist, and it's only by Glenn saying it aloud that he's forced to admit it - finding Merle at all is nothing but a pipe dream.
"Nah," Daryl says. "Can't track on cement. Merle's long gone."
"Okay," Glenn breathes out. And sure, he looks relieved. Who wouldn't? Daryl ain't gonna hold that against him. Glenn reaches out hesitantly, fingers barely brushing against his skin; smiles just as tentatively. "Get some sleep, then. I'll see you in the morning."
Daryl watches him walk away, hand coming up to rub at his chin. Watches Glenn lean one hip against the car, smile and nod at something Shane says. Watches him tug at the brim of his cap. Watches him bend his head back to the map, one long finger tracing a line on the paper.
He don't need them. He don't need Glenn, with his stupid grin and his stupid hat.
He can still feel the heat of Glenn's fingertips on his arm.
He's not going anywhere.
.