There is want in his gut – or something akin to it at least – burning low.
He is stuffing shit loads of canned food into the bag, not caring if either one or two or the entire fucking army of canned food is the most detestable tuna-flavored that he loathes so much gets stuffed in because this is their only chance, their only time of getting decent food in two weeks. It is supposed to be simple like the kid said. In and out, grab anything you can, stuff it, then make sure you leave the store with it, not without it.
"Just make sure you zipped it up tightly," Glenn tells, demands; soft little voice with the barest hint of nervousness. "We don't want you dropping the food on the run when the walkers chase us."
Daryl wants to make a smart-ass comment at that, wants to snap at him because he's Daryl and he's the best hunter in the camp. Point being, he makes less noises than Glenn does. But it is hard to prove his point because Glenn is fucking floating above the pavement. Feather-light touches of his soles against the tiles, calculated and careful and so Glenn. Unlike Daryl who is all graceful steps, lithe body swaying from one shadowed corner to another so naturally flawless it makes Glenn look awkward.
Everything about Glenn is so different, so awfully different, like splotches of blank ink on paper-white canvas. A fascinating stark-contrast of both their mental and physique it makes his body crave. Little sparks of fire that literally crawl down the length of his skin, crawling and crawling until this want settles comfortably on the pit of his stomach in the process.
"Are you listening to me, Daryl?" the kid snaps, his face contorts into this annoyed expression it turns him into a wondering mess of how he will look if Daryl bites that ticklish spot on his jugular, twists his wrist just right as he works inside the kid's pants, bends him over the driver seat before they're going back simply to see whether or not he will look more annoyed than he already is or pleased.
Instead of voicing his thoughts like he oh-so-desperately wants to, Daryl just nods his head and grunts darkly under his breath. He sees Glenn stiffen at the sound of his voice, a fuel his body needs to set him on fire. The hunter swallows the lump thickly down his throat and ignores the swirls of emotion inside him for once.
He knows it is only a matter of time before Glenn knows, only a matter of time before he hopefully gets what he wants but until then, Daryl will wait before striking, like he always does.