Everyone knew Glenn Rhee couldn't lie. Well, he could. But he was so terrible at it, that it was obvious when he was lying. So much so that he had pretty much given up on trying. It was just one of the few constants and universal truths that everyone could rely on. Glenn Rhee couldn't lie.
Thus, it came as no surprise that when he opened his big mouth and blurted out "I'm gay!" to the woman hitting on him that just wouldn't take a firm 'I'm not interested' as an answer, no one believed him. It didn't help that he'd managed to do it during one of the most cliched times ever: when the music was dead for a split-second. The DJ had been planning to do a dedication, but Glenn had somehow tripped over his own words and right into the sudden spotlight that was the attention of the entire club.
The woman he was talking to was drunk enough that she took Glenn's dear-in-headlights expression and nervousness at face value, assuming he was mortified from suddenly being the center of attention. A fact that he would later be very thankful for. She backed off as the DJ made a quick joke and went on to dedicate the song to someone and Glenn was left to turn and face the group he'd come in with. A bunch of college kids he only half-knew. Mostly people who lived in and around the dorm but weren't more than casual acquaintances. Glenn just wasn't that popular. The so-called-leader of it, Amy, was the only one he was even remotely close to. Despite that, they were all familiar enough with him to know he was shit at lying and he was looking pretty shit right then and there.
"Gay, huh?" Amy asked, wry smile curling her lips. She'd been subject to Glenn's awkward flirting early in their loose friendship. She hadn't been interested, but she'd found him 'cute' and decided they could hang out some. Thus Glenn had enjoyed some measure of pretending he had a life by living vicariously through her exploits as she dragged him along to parties and at least attempted to help him have a social life.
One of the others, Randall or Randy or something like that, shook his head, "No way. Everyone knows the real reason you've never had a girlfriend or even hooked up with a chick is that you're pathetic and scared of them. I mean, it's good you're not the kind to take confused drunk girls up on their offers so they won't regret it in the morning, but seriously man, get a better line. Gay is so played out."
Now, Glenn could have capitulated right then and there. Hung his head and sighed and agreed that he was a pathetic excuse of a man and scared of women. He really could have because his own self-esteem had never been all that high. The lack of friends and him being firmly put in the unpopular-social-outcast-but-like-by-one-social-butterfly-so-they're-okay crowd for going on four years had not helped at all.
But Glenn was also one lucky guy. In that luck seemed to follow him around. Little bits of luck, not the big win-the-lottery kind. The kind of luck that made him notice he needed to stop and tie his shoe right before he's about to cross the street and because of it, avoids stepping out in front of someone else on a bicycle that he wouldn't have noticed for all his focus being on the cars instead. This time his luck took the form of a sleeveless arm (a very muscular and manly arm) coming down over his shoulder and an annoyed snort from the owner of that arm as he said, "'Bout time you got yourself a backbone and said it. Now can we tell them about us and get that over with, too?"
Glenn's shoulders were tense and he was certain his face had gone about a million times redder than an apple as he stared at the floor. He was a lot quicker on the uptake than most would give him credit for and this stranger, who from what little Glenn could see of him looked like the kind of guy who didn't need the trouble that being labeled as gay would bring from the wrong crowds, had just set himself up to take a bullet for him. He didn't know why. It didn't matter. He could find out later. Glenn forced himself to relax a little and leaned into the side of the man, his own arm coming up to wrap loosely around his waist. He found himself smiling shyly, embarrassed, unable to look up at Amy or the others. He knew they had to be looking at him. He could feel it.
"Who are you?" Amy asked, confusion and concern in her voice. Being the designated driver, she didn't have any alcohol to slur her speech or comprehension. She knew something was off. And really, she was probably genuinely worried for Glenn, who she did think of as a friend even if it wasn't a close friendship.
Fortunately for Glenn, the stranger's lying game was on point. He extended his free hand in greeting, "Name's Daryl. I'm his boyfriend."
When Amy didn't take that hand and presumably was just staring at him, Daryl dropped it and huffed with clear offense in his gruff voice, "What? You got a problem with that? Knew you were trouble when he told me 'bout you. Always making me sit back and stay in the corner while you get yourselves drunk. Didn't think it was cause you were bunch of homophobes." The man, Daryl, tightened his grip on Glenn's shoulder, "This why you never wanted to tell them before?"
Glenn shrugged one shoulder and turned his head so his cheek was resting against Daryl's shoulder. He wasn't short enough to tuck it against his chest. Daryl seemed to be about his own height, maybe an inch or two taller. Maybe. Hard to tell. But he could still effectively try to tuck himself against the man. The less he spoke, the better. Physical action would have to do.
"Wait!" Amy called a little louder than necessary and a little more genuinely panicked, "No. We're just... surprised. Glenn never... we've only ever seen him hit on... you know... girls."
"You never heard of bisexuals?" Daryl snorted, and Glenn could hear the glare in his disgusted voice before his arm steered Glenn into turning and starting to walk off. "Come on, shortround, let's get out of here. Tired of this place. Tired of watching you try to fit in with those assholes."
It was at that point that Glenn broke. He couldn't stop the laugh that spilled from him, bubbling up and shaking his whole body, forcing him to bring his other arm up across Daryl's chest and hold onto him as he stumbled from the suddenness of it. Daryl had him turned away by that point, walking casually toward the door, and Glenn was feeling far too giddy to fight him on it. He did turn in Daryl's arms, look over the very well-defined shoulder, and wave goodbye to Amy. He knew he'd have to try and explain come morning, but at the moment, seeing the slack-jawed stares of her and the others was just too perfect.
Daryl's grip loosened once they were out the door. He kept his arm over Glenn's shoulders and continued to lead him off. It was a slow pace toward the parking lot. As they turned the corner, Daryl glanced behind them to check the door, then murmured, "Don't think they're gonna follow us for a minute or two. You got a car?"
"No," Glenn shook his head, still grinning. He didn't think he'd stop for a few days. "Amy picked me up. She was the DD for the night."
After a moment to catch his breath, he turned and got a good look at Daryl's face. The guy was clearly older than him by at least a decade. There were wrinkles that didn't make him look too old or anything, but they were clearly earned through a long life. There was also a roughness to his skin that was easy to see and could probably be seen at a fair distance. He had somewhat squinty eyes, but they were a clear blue. The kind people in magazines had. His dark hair was on the short side of long, just brushing his shoulders, but well-kept with the top currently pulled back with a hair tie while the bottom hung loose. A trimmed bit of not-so-dark stubble rounded him out. All in all, he looked a lot like a biker, what with the leather vest over his shirt (the sleeves looked like they'd been ripped off) and the jeans and all.
"Shortround?" Glenn asked, grinning, hardly noticing his arm had yet to drop away from Daryl's waist as the man kept leading him off.
Daryl shrugged, "Didn't catch your name and I had to call you something. It was the nicest one I could think of."
"You couldn't go with 'honey' or 'baby' or 'darling'?" Glenn couldn't keep a straight face and started howling with laughter before the words were out of his mouth. He found himself once again leaning into the man. And this time the man was leaning back, laughing his own ass off as well. By the time they stopped (in front of a motorcycle, no less so score one for him on the biker assumption), Glenn had managed to get a hold of himself well enough to admit, "Yeah. Okay. Shortround is fine. But that's the only one I'm agreeing to."
"Why don't you sit down," Daryl smirked at him, pushing him lightly so he was half-sitting, half-leaning against the side of the bike's seat. Then Daryl leaned in, arms going up to rest on either of Glenn's shoulders. He continued to smile, but kept his voice low, "We have an audience. So keep smiling and tell me your name. Then tell me if it's okay to give you a kiss. Just don't turn around, keep your eyes on me."
"Uh... Glenn," he answered, blinking and fighting the urge to do exactly what Daryl had asked him not to. He forced himself to look at Daryl's chest, where his shirt hung slightly open and the line of a prominent scar could be seen crossing in a nearly perfect horizontal. "It's Glenn Rhee. What kind of kiss would it be?"
Daryl continued to grin, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as one of his hands came to rest in Glenn's hair and start lazily combing through it like he did it all the time, "The kind I seen my friend Aaron give his husband when they're laying with each other on the couch while we watch old movies together. No tongue if you don't want it."
"So... you're really gay?" Glenn's eyes shot up and he found himself smiling again, amused by the image Daryl painted in his mind.
Daryl leaned in as if he were whispering something super sweet or super dirty, "I ain't gay, but I ain't not gay, neither. I'm still figuring it out. Now can I or can't I? We need to wrap this up so I can put you on this bike and take you somewhere we don't have your nosy friends watching our every move."
"Right," Glenn cringed a little before tilting his head so they could touch forehead to forehead. He brought one hand up to curl loosely in Daryl's shirt as he then turned his head in invitation. He had nothing to lose and a very petty thing to gain. He felt like being petty, "Go ahead."
Daryl did so. He stepped forward so he was standing between Glenn's legs, the hand in his hair tightening while the other arm pulled back and his hand could slide gently over Glenn's shoulder and up his neck. His lips were rough only in that they were chapped from wind and weather. Daryl's mouth was otherwise very soft and gentle. With his eyes closed, Glenn could almost imagine he was kissing a girl he had a genuine interest in and being kissed back with all the love in the world. Daryl took his time, like they'd done this before and there was nothing new to discover, just retracing well-worn steps that were still interesting despite the journey having been done a thousand times.
When they broke, Daryl kept his eyes closed for a half second too long and Glenn realized that at some point he'd wrapped his free arm around Daryl's waist again. His hand was pressing into the small of the man's back, holding him close while Daryl's hands played idle games with his hair.
Glenn smiled when Daryl opened his eyes and then Daryl was jerking his head to the side and stepping back, "Come on, get up. I got a second helmet in the right bag. It's Aaron's, but he won't mind if you borrow it today."
"You go riding with him a lot?" Glenn did as asked, moving around to the bag in question and opening it. He had a small epiphany as he strapped it on that Daryl making him get it made it look like he'd done it before. That whoever was watching would assume he was just that familiar with the bike to go and get it himself while he and Daryl talked after comforting each other for a few tender and assumed private moments.
"Yeah," Daryl answered, getting his own helmet on and starting the bike up, "Once a week at least. Eric doesn't like the wind the way Aaron does. You ever ridden bitch before?"
Glenn slid on behind him and settled his hands loosely at Daryl's waist, "Been a while, but I know what I'm doing."
"Good, that'll make this a lot easier. Where am I taking you?"
Glenn finally looked over at the club and saw the group just standing there, watching him, Amy with her shoulders dropped in disbelief while the others were whispering obviously to each other. He leaned forward over Daryl's shoulder, "You just helped me successfully lie for the first time in my adult life. If you want to take me for a victory ride somewhere, I'm totally up for it."
"You're lucky you're already on my bike, Glenn," Daryl laughed. "Or someone might think you're up for a different kind of ride."
"Kind of hoping they do," he laughed, waving at the group as Daryl took off.
Their victory ride took them back to Daryl's place (Aaron and Eric's, actually, whom he was roommates with), where they sat on the couch and discussed plans for continuing the charade. Glenn got invited to various college parties by Amy all the time, so they had plenty of places to start showing up together at now that his 'secret' was out. And Daryl didn't seem to mind the implications that came with 'dating' a man half his age for the sake of the entertainment that came with it. Though Glenn got the impression he wasn't really in it for the entertainment, either. He'd just seen Glenn getting ragged on and looking as pathetic as he'd been called, and decided Glenn needed a bit of a rescue. Aaron told Glenn that Daryl was always doing things like that. Stopping to quietly (and not-so-quietly) help people.
Daryl was good people. He was funny and even if it was just a game for a little while, Glenn found he enjoyed the company. The next time they went out together, really went out, Glenn wondered if Daryl might be open to their relationship being less of a lie. He didn't voice it, but he wondered.