Hello all! This is my first endeavor into the wonderful world of the Walking Dead so please don't be too harsh on me just yet! This story can be read as slash or bromance, whatever you're comfortable with! Hope you all enjoy it! :D
Disclaimer: I own nothing =/
If you had asked Glenn six months ago to make a list of things he never thought would happen, the number one thing probably would have been the zombie apocalypse wiping out nearly the entire population of the planet. Second would have been winning the multi-million dollar lottery but seeing as how monetary value now has about as much worth as the paper it's printed on that seems pretty pointless in the long run. Third would have definitely been sharing a tent with Daryl Dixon. Well, he's sitting at two for three at the moment and the lottery thing didn't really seem feasible anymore so he figures he's at least somewhat broken even.
It's late, probably close to midnight judging from the position of the crescent moon over the top of the tent, and Glenn can't sleep. He's staring at the darkened vinyl blankly, trying his hardest to figure out how he ended up in this position in the first place. Part of it had been that storm Wednesday night that destroyed his tent, he knew that much, but he was still somewhat unsure how he had ended up in Daryl's tent at the end of the day. Dale had offered the RV and there were certainly spare tents somewhere in the multitude of supplies they'd accumulated over the past couple of months so how did he end up here? He thinks part of it has to do with the fact that he feels safer with Daryl than anyone else in the group because the man could put an arrow through a squirrel's eye at a hundred paces and not even think twice about it. He's also vaguely terrified of him so the situation seems inherently flawed at the seams no matter how he looks at it.
The man in question is about a foot away from him, turned on one side so his back is facing Glenn. He had been one of the last to offer up the use of his tent to Glenn but his logic had made the most sense: the tent was huge, it had been big enough to fit both Daryl and Merle back when they first arrived at camp and all of Merle's possessions were still inside of it including an extra sleeping bag. When Glenn had hesitantly agreed to stay with Daryl for the time being, the latter had simply led him over to the tent and nodded to the tangled mass of sleeping bag in the corner without a word. Glenn had stared at it like a deer in the headlights for a few seconds, vaguely wondering if there was a bear trap somehow sewn into the bottom of it. What little he knew about Merle made that idea entirely possible. Daryl hadn't said anything when they were getting ready to turn in for the night, he just turned his back to the younger man and crouched down on his side of the tent, cleaning his crossbow like it was the most natural thing in the world. Glenn was really beginning to question whether or not this was such a good idea.
He hears Shane get up after a few hours and make his way to the RV for watch duty. Its one of the rare nights that neither Glenn nor Daryl had been chosen to take a shift and it should be a relief to get a little extra sleep during the night. It's not though and Glenn is left staring at the dark ceiling of the tent for hours, fidgeting with the sleek lining of the sleeping bag to keep going out of his mind as he listens to Daryl breathe beside him.
Its cold tonight, the storm had brought in a northern front that had dropped the temperature several degrees in a matter of hours. The usual Georgia heat is now little more than a distant memory in the wake of the upper 40s, lower 50s weather they'd been experiencing for the past few days. It's not at all unpleasant but it's hard to prepare for something like that especially without the use of a weather forecast anymore. Usually all you had to do was flip on the weather channel and figure out how to dress accordingly but with the power grid now more than likely permanently shut down that was no longer an option. Glenn wouldn't have minded it so much if he had thought to snag some warmer clothes before running out of his apartment while the landlord-turned-Walker made a grab for him. He'd packed shorts and a few t-shirts and that was it. He regrets it now as he starts to shiver.
The lining of the sleeping bag is polyester and smells like a putrid mixture of stale beer and vomit; Glenn has no doubt this used to belong to Merle. There are various rough patches where a wayward cigarette had met its end and it's somewhat amazing the entire sleeping bag didn't go up in flames on more than one occasion. The silky lining is cold and thin against his skin and the lightest touch makes him shiver all over again. It's not retaining body heat very well and what little padding there was left inside is all haphazardly scattered out through the sleeping bag in a way that wouldn't have done him much good anyway. He shivers again, a little more violently this time, and his fingers clench in the thin fabric a bit tighter.
"Yer makin' an awful lot of racket for someone who's supposed to be asleep," a graveled voice mutters from the other side of the tent and Glenn damn near jumps out of his skin when he realizes Daryl is awake. He had been almost certain the other man had been asleep for over an hour now. Daryl rolls onto his back and gives the younger man a cursory glance in the darkness of the tent.
"S-sorry…just more awake than I thought I was, I guess," Glenn mumbles, trying to think of anything that would take his mind off of both the cold and the fact that Daryl was now staring at him. He tries to start naming the states in alphabetical order and gets to Connecticut before he gives up.
Beside him, Daryl sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, staring up at the top of the tent in the same way Glenn is doing. "Fuckin' freezing in here," he mutters, absently rubbing his sleeveless arms in an attempt to force some blood flow into his chilled limbs.
"Maybe you should start wearing shirts that have sleeves then." Glenn really wishes there was an angle in which he could punch himself in the mouth and mean it after a comment like that. He sort of expects Daryl to do it for him and is honestly quite surprised when the older man simply snorts a laugh and smirks.
"Keep up with that attitude and I'll kick yer scrawny yellow ass outside and let you freeze to death." It's a thinly veiled threat but then again most of what comes tumbling out of Daryl's mouth is. Glenn had learned long ago that a lot of what Daryl said to and around the group was just to keep up appearance and that he was beginning to actually give a shit whether they all croaked and died or not. He knows a lot of it came from growing up with Merle and figures that of the two brothers Daryl is the one who would most likely offer assistance if it ever came down to it. He's pretty sure Merle wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. It's a horrible thing to think, even worse to admit, but he's almost glad some days that Merle isn't with the group anymore.
Glenn shivers again and this time there's a sudden influx of chattering teeth that accompany the chill. He tries to hide it but when your jaw is vibrating like you just licked a jackhammer it's a little hard to ignore. He crosses his arms over his chest under the top layer of the sleeping bag, much in the same way Daryl is doing, and hopes that it will conserve what little body heat he still possesses. It doesn't do much and if anything it only taunts him for trying. Glenn is beginning to regret this idea more and more with each passing second. He's also beginning to realize that he might be laying on a tree root.
"Come 'ere." The words startle him and his physically shakes himself out of his reverie and looks over at Daryl to make sure he heard him at all.
"What?"
"I said come 'ere. I ain't got all day," Daryl mutters but he's not looking at Glenn, he's still staring at the top of the tent.
"Why-?"
"Jesus, kid, do I gotta spell it out for you? It's fuckin' cold and the two of us lyin' apart like this ain't makin' things any better. So get over here and stop bein' such a damn idiot." The words come out in an agitated huff but there's an underlying tone of hesitation like Daryl is almost embarrassed by what he's asking. Glenn is still too dumbfounded and cold to move and all he can do is stare at the older man like he's grown a second head. "God dammit…" Daryl mutters after a second before he reaches out and grabs a handful of Glenn's sleeping bag, hauling him one-handed across the tarp floor of the tent and pulling him to a stop right next to his own bag.
Daryl turns on his side so he's facing Glenn and fumbles with the zipper of the sleeping bag, cursing when it gets stuck in the polyester fabric. After a few seconds, he emerges victorious and manages to get the zipper undone, reaching into Glenn's bag and grabbing hold of the kid's skinny, cold arm. Glenn has just enough time to let out a startled gasp before he's pulled from his own sleeping bag and swathed inside of Daryl's, immediately squished up against the older man's chest.
Glenn freezes almost instantly, rigid like a plank in Daryl's arms, and for a second he literally forgets how to breathe. He knows a lot of this behavior has to do with the fact that it really is uncomfortably cold right now and combined body heat is the best way to stay warm on a night like this but there's still a small part of him, the part that is still somewhat terrified of Daryl, that wonders if the hunter is about to snap his neck and use his corpse as Walker fodder. His heart is thumping hard and fast against Daryl's shoulder and he would have squirmed if the position had given him that kind of freedom.
Daryl seems to notice his discomfort and chuckles slightly, shifting his shoulder a little so he's more comfortable. "Relax, Short Round. I'm ain't gonna do anything' to ya." The words are designed to soothe and comfort but Glenn feels anything but comforted. He feels tense like a bow string, his muscles so tight they hurt, and he wonders how long he can stay like this before something akin to rigor mortis sets in.
They lay like that for a long time, Daryl's arms wrapped loosely around Glenn's body, and Glenn has to admit that he's much more comfortable now than he had been earlier. He's definitely warmer but he's not sure how much of that is from Daryl's combined body heat and how much of it is from the fact that his blushing like a teenage girl with her first crush. He tries to wiggle a bit, get a bit more comfortable in Daryl's arms, but the movement only makes him more uncomfortable. He adjusts his arms, allowing them to carefully and cautiously snake around Daryl's back and rest against the solid muscle there. When his wrist doesn't get snapped like a twig he figures the movement didn't cause any offense so he lets his hands linger on the warmth of Daryl's back. He squirms again, snuggling closer at first and pushing away a bit a few seconds later but none of it seems to do any good. Maybe if he could just get his head to-
"I swear to God if you don't stop movin' I'm gonna to string you up by yer ankles and let the Walkers use you as a piñata," Daryl mutters above his head and he shifts once, tossing one leg over Glenn's hips and effectively pinning him to the ground. He moves his head a bit, tucking the younger man's head beneath his chin and tightening his hold on him slightly.
All at once Glenn feels comfortable and safe and warm and it's suddenly like everything is right in the world. He can feel Daryl's breath tickling his hair ever so slightly as he breathes and the constant inhale and exhale is enough to lull him into relaxation. Daryl smells like grass and leaves and sunshine and Glenn decides that this definitely isn't a terrible way to spend the night after all. He closes his eyes and snuggles a bit closer, smiling just slightly when Daryl's arms wrap around him a bit tighter.
He's very nearly asleep when he hears the older man's sleep-soft mumble. "You tell anyone about this and I cut yer tongue out, got it?"
Glenn just smirks and nods. "Got it."
"Good."
The conversations stop, the tent grows silent, and Glenn feels safe and warm for the first time in a long time.
So was it okay? Should I keep my day job? I think I'm going to write a follow up chapter from Daryl's POV just to round everything out lol. Thanks for reading! :D