Notes: I don't know WHEN this is supposed to take place... Some time when they are still living in their little camp... I think maybe it might exist in a world a bit different from the show, because I feel like it should have happened after they left Merle on the roof, but before the zombies ambushed their camp and killed Amy and the other less important characters. It doesn't really fit anywhere in the show... You can pretend it happened in the comic book universe, but Daryl doesn't exist there... You can decide for yourself.
Also, this is totally not meant to be slashy, but if you want, you can read it that way. I have a tendency to write and say things that I mean to sound completely innocent, and then people do that little *nudge, nudge, wink wink* thing where they totally took it to mean something sexual... Really... It's completely meant to be just friendship moments, not anything more... But read it however you like. :) I've said it before, and I'll say it again - I'm fine with people writing stories with sex, and I'll even read some of them... but I won't write them. It's not that I think I'm above it or too good or anything - I just don't like sex.
Anyway, enough with that. Here's the story:
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A soft gasp could be heard from a few yards in front of him as his companion spun around and greeted him with wide, paranoid eyes.
Daryl simply raised his eyebrows and gestured at the bottles of shampoo he had just kicked over. Damn, this guy was jumpy... Of course, he didn't really blame him; living with the constant threat of having your face eaten off with little or no warning could really take a tole on even the most relaxed person.
Glenn nodded, realizing the sound he had been so startled by was just plastic scuttling across the tiled floor of the shop which they found themselves in. He turned back around and continued walking cautiously through the aisles.
The two of them had decided to go on a supply run. Glenn had wanted to go by himself of course. He claimed he worked better alone, and preferred to have to cover only his own ass and no one else's. Daryl respected that. He didn't like having to babysit for any of these idiots either. However, he also knew Glenn was going to fill up his back pack with canned food, weapons if he found any, and other so called necessary provisions. Daryl, on the other hand, was in the market for some rum, and knew the others wouldn't want Glenn wasting space in his backpack for it. The only way Daryl was going to get the stuff he wanted, was if he got it himself.
"Shhh!" he heard the kid in front of him gasp again. He didn't turn around, but rather stayed completely still, raising up his hand with one finger pointing upwards, as if signaling to the older man that he needed to keep his mouth shut.
Daryl narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on his crossbow. He didn't know how Glenn survived all of his trips into the city without ever bringing a weapon. Even if he was quick and quiet, having a backup plan wouldn't hurt anything. It was actually rather surprising that he would put so much faith in his ability to avoid the walkers entirely instead of planning for the possibility of taking a few of them out, especially considering that he actually seemed kind of smart, for a foreigner at least.
After almost a full minute of them both standing in silence with no danger revealing itself, Daryl sighed, "are you finished?"
Glenn turned around, sporting a confused look on his face, "what? We haven't gotten everything on the supplies list. No, I'm not finished..." He actually looked a bit annoyed, which was kind of amusing.
"No, dick-brain. I meant, are you finished being a pussy? You stop every five seconds just because the wind blows... No wonder you always take so god-damned long to get back to camp," Daryl clarified.
The boy frowned and shook his head, "it's not like we're living in a normal world," he complained, "it doesn't hurt anything to play it safe. If I hear a sound, I'm going to assume the worst. We don't have to luxury of being fearless."
"I do," Daryl smirked.
Glenn just shook his head in annoyance. The kid hardly ever had the guts to argue with him. He knew that, and he often took advantage of it. It was easy to always be the one who was right when they argued, because Glenn gave up to easily.
"I'm going to the booze aisle," Daryl informed him, "don't leave this building."
Glenn looked hurt, like a kid who was just denied a Happy Meal, "we really don't have room for that stuff," he pressed.
"Correction. You don't have room for that stuff," Daryl called back as he made his way toward the back of the store, "We talked about this already China-Man. You get the stuff for the camp. I get the stuff for me. It's the whole reason I came with you. Remember?"
"Daryl..." Glenn called back in a hushed tone, "don't talk so loud."
Daryl rolled his eyes as he scanned the shelves of alcohol. Not surprisingly, a lot of it had already been cleared out. It seemed a lot more people were feeling helpless once all their family and friends died, and then rose from the dead and tried to chew off their limbs.
He settled for a nice large bottle of rum, stuffing it into his tattered makeshift bag. It was more than enough to get him drunk if he chose to use it that way. Of course, he probably wouldn't use it to get completely smashed. That would be careless, since he didn't trust the group he was living with and wanted to always have his wits about him. A bit of a buzz wouldn't hurt though, and this bottle would provide many of those. Hell, he might even let some of the others have a swig if he was feeling generous. Probably not though, since they so adamantly declared the lack of room for it in the Asian's backpack. If they didn't think the rum was important, then maybe they didn't deserve to have any of it.
"Are you about done back there?" he heard Glenn's whispered voice call back, "we need to try to move quicker," He could hear in the kid's tone that he was getting nervous. Daryl imagined the kid's success in not being eaten stemmed mostly from him rushing through his trips so fast that none of the walkers even had a chance to notice him. And if they did, he was gone before they could catch him.
"Calm the fuck down, man," Daryl called back, keeping his focus on the disheveled array of bottles and cans lining the shelves. He could possibly fit another into his bag... It was just a matter of if he wanted to. It would be more of a nuisance to lug around while Glenn took ages to find tampons, toilet paper, soap, and aspirin... but it certainly would be nice to have a kind of large stash of booze to last him a while.
"Hurry up," Glenn's small voice could barely be heard. Daryl could tell he was becoming panicked. He sighed. He supposed it indeed wasn't wise to stay in one spot too long. Glenn knew what he was doing when he came and scavenged in the city. He knew the longer they stayed here, the more likely they were going to encounter walkers who actually noticed they were there. Daryl couldn't ignore that.
He grabbed up a second bottle, Jack Daniels this time and turned back toward the front of the store.
As soon as he looked up and saw Glenn, he silently winced. The store had a large series of windows across the front wall... or rather it used to. They were all broken by now. But the broken windows were the least of his worries. What worried him was the hoard of walkers passing by those massive holes in the side of the building, and the fact that some of said walkers were seeming to stagger toward them instead of moving onward.
"Glenn," Daryl hissed, finally keeping his voice low, even lower than the boy's had been a few moments ago, "get away from the window." Apparently the kid was surviving all this time mostly due to his quickness and not because of his attentiveness to his surroundings.
The younger man turned slowly toward the window. Daryl knew immediately when Glenn noticed the walkers, because as soon as he did, he staggered backward, knocking into a shelf and effectively spilling it's contents all over the floor. He also added a small gasp to all the noise.
"Fuck!" Daryl grunted, rushing forward toward the boy. The commotion of the things falling off the shelves caused even more walkers to turn their attention toward the shop. The lack of glass in the window frames meant the walkers would have no problem of getting to them...
Glenn seemed to be frozen in fear. Daryl couldn't believe he had made it to and from the city so many times. Did he always freeze up like this each time he saw a walker? How in the fuck did he ever manage to get back to camp when he reacted like this?
"Come on," Daryl demanded, grabbing Glenn's arm and pulling him along.
It took Glenn a few seconds before his legs were actually following Daryl in a jog instead of in a stumbling motion. Daryl swore he was actually dragging the kid for the first moments.
The entire front of the store was surrounded. Some of the walkers were even making their way in through the window holes. The same sickening crunch of glass that had greeted them when they had walked through those windows only a short ten or so minutes earlier now assaulted their ears. The sound was multiplied by twenty this time though, partially because numerous walkers were staggering in, instead of just the two of them, and partially because every single sound somehow just seemed louder all of a sudden.
Daryl found himself backing a few steps up as he looked from the store's entrance and over the wall of windows. Their exits were completely blocked, and he didn't have enough arrows to shoot down all of them. He grabbed the former pizza-boy's shirt and dragged him with him to the back of the store. There had to be some sort of employee exit, or a back door for deliveries or for taking out the trash or something...
As they made their way to the back, Glenn started using his brain again. He rushed ahead toward a door in the back. Daryl wanted to feel relieved at the sight of the door, but he didn't want to get his hopes up either. All sorts of things could go wrong about this. The door could be locked, or there could be even more walkers on the other side... or it could lead to some sort of cupboards or something equally useless.
He rushed up beside the boy, who was frantically pulling at the door, "It's locked!" he screamed, "we're stuck in here!" He turned around, pressing his back against the door and staring at the mass of undead corpses closing in around them, "shoot them!" he urged.
Daryl shook his head, "not enough arrows," he explained, "if we get out of this, I want my arrows. I'm not shooting them all off and leaving them in these fuckers' skulls. Shooting three of four of 'em won't do a damn bit of good. Come on," he pushed passed Glenn and searched the rest of the back of the store. This couldn't be the end for them. No way. Not after everything they had made it through. He was a Dixon, god-damn it. He was unstoppable.
"Daryl!" he heard Glenn's frantic voice. Apparently the kid was ballsy enough to have gone the opposite direction as Daryl had. He wasn't sure if that was his way of trying to help – to search a wider area in less time, or if it was his way of trying to get out of this on his own – leave Daryl behind so he could 'cover only his own ass.'
Either way, he seemed to have a plan of action, because he was frantically gesturing for Daryl to join him in whatever discovery he had made.
He didn't have the the time to ask questions, so he ran over to the boy's side, hoping there was an exit there and not something stupid like some knives the kid thought they'd be able to use.
When he got over to Glenn, he was only half-disappointed. The kid had found a door, and he had opened it. It wasn't something stupid like knives... But it wasn't exactly an exit either. The door led into a small store room, literally the size of a kitchen pantry or small walk-in closet.
Daryl looked at the closet, and then back at the walkers. He was doomed. While locking himself in a closet seemed like signing away his own life, so did staying out here and getting swarmed by walkers. Maybe they could wait in the closet for the walkers to forget about them... Or at least they could get away from them long enough that Daryl could shoot Glenn in the head with his crossbow, and then off himself... That way they'd die quickly instead of from having their bodies eaten while they screamed in agony...
So he dashed into the closet, turning back in time to see the corpses just inches away from Glenn as he rushed in and slammed the door closed behind him.
Daryl could smell the scent of their sweat and could hear that both he and the kid were breathing heavily. He could also hear hands thumping up against the door. It seemed each time a thump from fingers was heard, so was a small barely audible whimper.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the closet rather quickly, as a tiny row of windows was high up on the wall behind him. So tiny there was no way they could squeeze through them, but big enough that some light was let in so that they weren't completely in the dark.
He looked around the small room. Some coats were hanging on one wall, and on a shelf on the opposite wall were a few lunch boxes. He wrinkled his nose, not even wanting to know what nasty, rotten things those boxes contained. The room was much too small for comfort. Daryl could have, if he wanted to, put one hand on the left wall and one on the right, at the same time. This closet seemed to be used only for storage for employee belongings, so it didn't need to be large. Probably no one ever thought it would be a waiting room for zombie lunches.
Daryl drew his attention toward the door, which Glenn was leaning heavily against, still breathing hard, and still gasping each time a hand slammed up against the other side. His eyes were closed and he looked tired and terrified.
"The door got a lock?" Daryl asked, wondering why Glenn seemed to be attempting to hold it closed if it did. A closet probably wouldn't have a lock that locked from the inside, but they could at least check.
Glenn didn't seem to hear him. He seemed to be off in a world all his own.
"Hey," Daryl spoke up again, raising his voice. Glenn still didn't respond, so Daryl just took the one step there was to reach the door. He reached passed Glenn's shaking body and felt the doorknob himself. His fingertips were indeed greeted by just a smooth round knob. No lock.
At that point, Glenn finally remembered himself. He grew stiff and pushed Daryl away from himself, "sorry!" the boy apologized immediately, his eyes impossibly wide.
Daryl could feel that his face probably showed signs of him being pissed. He wasn't really that pissed at Glenn, for pushing him. He'd have pushed someone too, if they had invaded his personal space. Daryl was pissed at the situation, not at Glenn. The kid didn't know that though, and obviously took Daryl's scowl to mean pushing him had been a possibly fatal move.
"Did the door at least catch?" Daryl asked, not bothering to try to explain his angry facial expression to the younger man.
"Huh?" Glenn asked, still pressing himself against the door and resembling a desperate, caged animal.
"The door," Daryl all but screamed, "did it catch? Do you have to fucking hold it closed? Or is it latched?"
"Oh..." Glenn hesitated, "I'm scared to check..."
"I will then," Daryl grabbed his sleeve and pulled him away from the door. He breathed in and pulled the door softly, hoping it wouldn't open. It stayed in place. That was good. At least the door would stay closed on its own. That didn't make him want to leave it unguarded though. He doubted the walkers would learn how to use a doorknob any time soon, but they might pull the knob off, or knock the door inward if enough of them swarmed up against it. He wasn't willing to risk that possibility, so he stayed standing against it like Glenn had, only without flinching at each thud he felt from the rotting hands that attempted to claw their way in.
Daryl narrowed his eyes as he looked at the frightened boy standing in front of him, staring at him as if he was waiting for some sort of guidance.
He couldn't help but know this was largely his own fault. He had kept them at this shop longer than they should have stayed, and he had been yelling from the back of the store up to the front, likely making much more noise than he should have. He didn't want to blame himself though. He wanted to blame Glenn.
"You gotta learn to stop being so god-damned jumpy," he grumbled.
"What?" Glenn frowned, "I just didn't want them getting in the door... I didn't know if they could open it. You're standing against it now anyway; you're doing the same thing I was."
"I'm not talking about that, idiot," Daryl hissed, "when you see walkers, you gotta fucking hold still. Stay calm. Bumbling around like a damn idiot, knocking shit off shelves... You attracted every single one in the whole god-damn city."
Glenn just frowned, "they were already there..."
"They were passing by," Daryl hissed, "they didn't all swarm in here until you made as much noise as possible." He realized some of them had been looking in the store even before that, but accepting blame wasn't something he was good at, so he continued blaming the kid, "you know, for a Jap, you ain't very smart."
Glenn furrowed his brow, "I told you already, I'm Korean."
"That why you aren't smart then?" Daryl teased, "I guess it makes more sense now."
Glenn just shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest and looked away from the older man, "you know, if I had come alone, I'd have been out of here long before the swarm of walkers came by," he muttered under his breath. Daryl wasn't sure if he was meant to hear it or not, but the boy continued, "but if you think alcohol is worth more than your life, maybe you deserve this."
Daryl grabbed the kid's shoulder and turned him back around so they faced each other, "If you'd have just gotten my fucking rum for me, I wouldn't have had to come and slow you down," Daryl closed in on the boy. He wanted to make him nervous – to remind him who was in charge here. The kid could be mad at him, but he wasn't going to let him get away with being disrespectful, "you get all kinds of stupid worthless shit for everyone else. Getting one damn bottle of rum wouldn't kill you."
"Well, it might this time," Glenn stared up at him. His eyes revealed that he was indeed rather angry. In fact, Daryl didn't think he'd ever seen the kid so angry before. Of course, they had never been in such a predicament before. Not together anyway – Daryl didn't really know what zombie-related horror stories the boy had encountered.
Daryl found himself a bit taken aback that the younger man wasn't backing down yet. Ordinarily Daryl would call him some racial slur or yell at him, or even just mumble something rude, and the kid would give up just like that. But not this time. He was not giving in this time, and Daryl didn't really know if it bothered him or not. He actually felt kind of proud of the kid for finally sticking up for himself and having the balls to argue with him instead of just cowering away and giving him the win he didn't deserve.
Maybe he should just let Glenn win this one... Or maybe not, "Like I said before," he started, narrowing his eyes, "it's not the booze that's getting us killed; it's your stumbling ass falling into a shelf and knocking every fucking thing off it onto the floor. The walkers were there because I made the trip take too long, and they noticed us because you freaked out."
"So you admit it's both our faults," Glenn stared at him.
Daryl raised his eyebrows, "Sure," he smirked, "more yours than mine though."
"But still partially yours, and you know that," Glenn glared.
Daryl just laughed, "you got me there, Korea-Man."
He glanced over at Glenn, who was also smirking very slightly. The younger man sighed and sunk down to the floor, "this is exhausting," he commented, "do you think they'll thin out even if there's no other noise in the city to distract them?"
"Sure," Daryl guessed, "eventually."
Glenn pouted, leaning his head back hard enough to produce a thud, "how long do you think we'll be here? If we're stuck here too long, we won't be able to get back until morning... I'm not running through the city at night."
"I ain't either," Daryl agreed, "sleeping here won't be the end of the world."
"No?" Glenn looked up. Daryl couldn't even see most of his face, as the boy was sitting down while Daryl was still standing, the the kid's stupid baseball cap still managed to rest on his head after all this.
"As long as you don't snore," Daryl added.
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