Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, I know; it took me a long time to update. I'm lazy, and I'm not particularly unaware of it. This chapter is going to be leading up to the slash. It's short, but that's the point.
Again, thanks to the few subscribers! Critique me if you must, and R&R is always appreciated greatly.
Chapter Four
As we made our way into the campsite, I could feel around sixteen pairs of inquiring eyes glaring in our direction. Nearing closer, I watched as their expressions shifted from surprise to confusion, mostly at the sight of Daryl, who was trodding next to me with a perplexed look across his face. He didn't imagine so many people would be there.
"Glenn!" Lori suddenly called out, breaking the silence. "Where have you been?"
"And who is that?" Amy chimed in.
As much as I didn't want to explain why I had been practically missing for the past couple hours and returned to camp with a terrifying, half-dirty redneck at my side, I knew I'd have to anyways. They weren't the type of people to leave a situation be; chances are, they would be prodding me for every damn detail until I could no longer utter a single word. (Ah, camp life. Always a delight.)
"This is Daryl," I said, thereby giving the most awkward introduction in all post-apocalyptic history. Daryl didn't even try to put on a smile, or give a handshake, for that matter.
"Is he bitten?" a concerned Andrea asked, her skeptical eyes roaming over the man's his tattered clothes and gruffness. "He looks kind of... well..." She didn't want to insult the man, so she just stopped, hoping that I would get the jist.
I sighed. "No, no... I mean, yes, he may look a little... you know... but he's not bitten. Listen..." I began, glancing up at the eager faces, illuminated by the flickering fire light. I told them the story — how Daryl had desperatley staggered up to me, demanding for some water, throwing me off-guard completely. I particularly bragged to Shane in a subtle manner when I started speaking about the lake, and how I had fed him the drink with my hands. He seemed a little shaken at that, which made me feel a certain sense of self-worth. Some of the campers' faces started to brighten, as if they were proud of my actions, but others just looked weary, almost as if I had made a mistake taking in this piece-of-shit, good-for-nothing fool with a crossbow.
Either way, I couldn't of told the story any better.
"That's great and all, but what are we gonna do with him?" a less-than-happy Ed spoke up, eyeing us both. Our hands were still knotted together, and Daryl was starting to get very silent and a little uncomfortable at their pressing glares.
"We help him, of course," Carol intervened, but quickly closed her mouth when Ed put a forceful hand on her knee. She tensed up, looking down at her feet as the man started to mumble something to her. Ignoring them both, I turned back to the rest of the campers.
"I think he just needs to lay down and drink some more," I casually suggested, to which many nodded their heads in agreement. That is, with the exception of both Ed and Shane, who were naturally vulgar towards other human beings, even if they were suffering.
"Now, I don't think this is a good idea, lettin' people in," Shane said, drawing out his country accent. He did that whenever he wanted to lay down the guidlines of camp. To be perfectly honest, I didn't think we needed rules at all, given the situation we were in. But apparently, there was a proper way to do everything, walkers or no walkers. "I thought we agreed that we weren't gonna do this anymore."
Suddenly, Daryl perked up, starting to clear his throat. Sixteen pairs of eyes once again flicked in his direction. "I ain't gonna stay," he said roughly, looking Shane square in the eye. Whether he was telling the truth or not, I was unaware of at the time, but he put on a pretty intimidating facade. The whole camp looked a bit scared when he talked. "I just need to get some fuckin' rest, and I'll be outta here."
Shane nodded slowly, absorbing in the information, and I decided this would be the perfect time to give the poor man a place to rest. I looked over at Dale, who was perched over by Andrea, playing around with his watch. He always had a fascination with time. "Hey... Dale? Can I use your RV?"
"Yes," he replied hesitantly, glancing up at me through the flames. "And you can use the water in the fridge. Just use it sparingly, because we don't have alot."
"Okay... Hey, if you want, I can make another trip to town—"
He quickly shot me down with the shake of his head. "I don't think you'll be going anywhere soon." A few of the campers chuckled, and then he quickly added to ease some of my embarrassment, "For safety purposes."
I sighed. "Fine. Whatever." With that, I tugged on Daryl's limp hand, guiding him towards the RV. It wasn't too far-off; the dirty vehicle was just on the other side of camp, which was fairly small to begin with.
Once we were out of the others' view, I glanced over at Daryl, who was looking as apathetic as ever. "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" I couldn't help but blurt.
He cocked his head to the side, his hair brushing into his face. I found his big blue eyes boring into mine, and I just... I couldn't look away. Not even if I tried. Another blush, a more obvious one, floated up to my cheeks. The heat prickled underneath my skin.
My mouth started running, running to distract me from his gaze. "I mean, you know, if you want me to stay. I'm not saying you're, like, incapable or whatever. Just... if you need me..." I rubbed my neck with the palm of my spare hand. "I could help you... and stuff."
"Yeah," he nodded, eyes still locked with mine. "That'd be... nice." Such rare words from a man of his kind.
I swallowed down hard, giving a nervous grin. "Um, cool."
He finally tore his gaze away when we stumbled upon the RV. Without any further distractions, I focused on maneuvering him up the steep metal steps, into the messy area as fast as I could manage. It wasn't all that hard, knowing that the man wasn't completely drained. He held himself up for the most part. Once we were inside the vehicle, I set his too-heavy crossbow down on Dale's clutter-filled counter (my shoulder was almost crippled, by the way) and I laid him onto the mini-couch. He gave a satisfied groan as his bones collapsed onto the soft leathery exterior. I opened up the small white refrigerator, pulling out a plastic bottle of room-temperature water and unscrewed the cap.
"Here," I said, shoving the bottle into his hands. He just stared at it for a moment, and then lazily pushed it to his lips, water running down the corners of his cheeks. He finished the whole damn thing in less than ten seconds, half of it ending up on his flannel.
"Christ," he whispered, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, he saw my eyes drifting over his soaking chest. I didn't mean to. I honestly didn't.
"Glenn?" he mumbled, wet lips slightly parted.
"...yeah?" I replied uneasily, turning to pull another lukewarm bottle out of the fridge. I didn't care what Dale said about using them sparingly; no one ever listened to Dale, anyways.
"You know how you... rubbed the water on me?" he asked awkwardly, biting his lip, waiting for my response.
"Uh-huh..." I mumbled, thinking back a couple hours. "Why?"
The corners of his mouth lifted into a tiny smile. "Can you do it again?" he begged, watching my expression shift from uneasiness to just plain anxiousness. I couldn't help but think the man's words sounded a lot naughtier than they were intended to be, which was probably pathetic of me to think in the first place. The man was still dehyrdrated, god dammit.
So why did I feel that he was craving a different type of thirst? Surely the man wasn't trying to be... dare I say it... lustful. Or... was he? Is that one of the side effects from long-term sun exposure? Flirting?
Well, he did say that I was good-looking.
Leaning over the attractive man, I started to unbutton his flannel shirt once more, my fingers nimble and shaky. He sighed. "I take that as a yes," he said proudly, giving me that same small smile.
I couldn't help but return it as I ripped the fabric open, exposing his tan, muscular chest.
Yeah! Almost to the slash! I really hope this story makes sense, btw. Haha. Next chapter is probably going to be from Daryl's point of view, just to mix things up a bit.