Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Lets just say things would be a lot more interesting if I ever did.
Warnings: See original chapter for a complete list of warnings. This particular chapter will contain significant adult language, tiny reference to drugs, violence, utterly shameless manly flirtation, and mild slash.
Authors Note #1: Please read and review. I am open to comments, advice, and constructive criticism. The encouragement and constructive criticism your reviews provide makes the writing process that much more enjoyable!
Rotation – Chapter 10
After that day, a lot of things changed. He kept the kid pretty close. Not keen at all on letting the younger man go anywhere alone. Torn in more ways then one when he found both his brain and his body dead locked in a vicious inner battle, whenever he found himself getting up to accompany the man. Whether it was a supply run or a patrol where the kid was stuck with someone shifty like Shane for company, it didn't much matter, the point still remained.
Yet surprisingly, keeping it that way was something that turned out to be not as hard as he had first anticipated. He figured the kid would baulk and kick up a fuss. Seeing his actions as coddling rather then the proactive measures he kept telling himself they actually were. But as it turned out, he shouldn't have even bothered. Finding the kid had practically put down roots where ever he happened to be at any given time.
It seemed as though, whether he wanted the man to or not, Glenn was sticking pretty damn close these days. Even the old fart had noticed it, as wrapped up as he was in tending to the blonde chick, Andrea. Only after a while, those piercing looks the man had taken to fixing him with whenever he rolled out of bed in the middle of night and stalked across camp to join the kid on watch, had grown almost…understanding.
And while he certainly had no idea what was going on in the old man's brain, already half convinced that it was the early onset of dementia, he was also god damned sure it wasn't that. Besides, it wasn't like the old man was liable to see reason nowadays anyway; he hadn't seen anyone so besotted since Merle had first laid eyes on his Harley. At any rate, he figured that at least the blond woman was keeping him busy these days. Less time for meddling in other peoples affairs as older people were known to do. At least all the old timers he'd even known. Always rooting for that elusive 'happily ever after' scenario that only ever happens in Hollywood or on some afternoon sob special on Lifetime.
But worse still those looks seemed to be spreading. Because soon after they returned to camp, flushed and punch drunk with their success and near miss, the kid had taken to shooting him with a series of weird glances as well. He wasn't even sure if 'glances' was the right word for it either. Because it was almost as if the man was actually looking for something, trying to suss him out all proper like. In fact it seemed as though every time he looked up, the kid was staring right back.
He felt a triggers breath away from snapping over it and he had no idea why.
Another thing that changed was that it didn't take him long to bully the kid into learning a basic, gritty sort of self defence that he had mostly taught himself through out the course of his lifetime. It was a point of necessity really; after all you couldn't grow up with Merle for a big brother and fight your way through one too many bar brawls to count without picking up on a few things.
So, much to the young Korean's displeasure, a daily rough and tumble was added into their course of their everyday routines. And he was having none of the man's excuses either. The kid needed to be able to hold his own. Sure the man was quick and smart. But sometimes that just wasn't good enough, especially these days.
But that whole, self righteous spiel only made it worse, because when he had started this whole thing, he was pretty sure he had come into it with good intentions. Pure ones that revolved around helping the kid protect himself, nothing more, and nothing less. But now… Well, he wasn't exactly sure about that anymore.
In fact his head hurt just thinkin' about it.
And predictably, in that blindingly obvious way that only ever becomes clear until after the fact, the self defence lessons ended up backfiring spectacularly. Even he had to admit to it. He wasn't sure who came away from them more frustrated. Glenn with his inability to land even a single solid hit on him, or himself for having dealing with the fact that the kid was so god damned close, and yet somehow not close enough.
He was driving himself mental and he had only himself to blame…. Even to him it was a cold comfort.
The day had been all but trickling along, the air growing stale and almost stagnant as even the clouds themselves seemed stall, treading like molasses high up in the atmosphere. It was the kind of day that put you on edge for no good reason. Even the little ones were feeling it. All but bursting with nervous energy as they zoomed around camp like miniature dust devils on speed, both apparently caught up in the intricacies of a game that only the two of them could rightly understand.
It seemed almost disturbingly normal given the nature of the past few months.
But the strange and almost alien nature of the day remained. And he found that he just couldn't focus his attention on the tasks at hand. Becoming unaccustomedly distracted as he looked up from his position perched above the open hood of his pick up. A few grease blackened fingers slowly twirling an equally as filthy crescent wrench around and around in the close space. The motion idle, but lulling with a singular brand of graceful attention that anyone else in their right mind with have envied as he eyed the others from across camp.
Rick for his part stood off on his own, pointedly away from the others and half shielded between a few small patches of shade. Introspective and calculating. To anyone else the older man appeared to be simply watching the children, his mussed up brown hair finally free of his wide brimmed hat and curling victoriously around the curve of his ears. But the man himself seemed almost troubled, distracted. And he was pretty sure he knew why. Ever since the CDC, the man's eyes seemed to have hardened, often straying between Shane and his wife like he was trying to put to together some sort of jig saw puzzle that was missing half it's pieces.
Personally he figured that the man already knew what had been going on. By now how could he not? It was admitting that fact to himself that was the problem. After all, no one really wanted to find out that their misses had been doing the nasty with their best friend. Apocalypse or not, that kind of family dramatics never ended well. Either way, there was nothin' to do but wait till the fireworks he supposed.
It wasn't long after that that he straightened; abandoning any progress he might have made making adjustments to the fuel lines. Having initially harboured the vain hope of better conserving what little gas he had left. A point that had pretty much rendered itself moot as far as gas was concerned these days. Instead, he caught the kid's eye over the top of the hood, wiping his greasy hands on a rag before he motioned towards their make shift training field.
And he was gratified in spite of himself when the man made not a single word of protest, apparently just as grateful as himself for something more to do then watch the others sink any further into their own introspective moods. It seemed like it was just one of those off days all around. A day where a man needed a distraction from himself just as much as he needed an ice cold six pack and a full pack of Marlboro reds on a sizzling, summer afternoon.
And predictably, just because life liked screwin' with him,, a distraction he got…
Perhaps it all came down to the slow, pensive nature of the day, but when it did happen he wasn't prepared for it. Finding himself distracted by the vaguely muffled sounds of Lori and Shane's latest argument, secluded in the wild black berry thicket only a few yards from the clearing they had claimed as a practise area. Violence and tension practically dripping off every word that left their angry, venomous lips. Actions and words all but promising violence..
He was only partially paying attention as he deflected a few of the Korean's hits. Already half wondering if he was going to have to intervene when one of the kid's fists slipped through the barrier of his upraised arms and sent him sprawling, going arse over tit to land square on his unsuspecting back.
His breath whooshed out in a long, ragged stream, feeling the bones in his jaw shift. Cracking ominously even as he went air borne, pitching backwards in a rough jumble of flailing limbs and sweat dampened hair. His vulnerable skin grating across the loose gravel with an all encompassing sting, rising above the thudding twinge growing in his jaw that was already pounding out in a wounded beat that threatened to deafen him completely.
The little shit had a mean right hook.
"Sorry man, you okay?" Glenn questioned. Hunched over at his side and massaging his hand as he looked down at him, the kid's tone warring between anxiety and surprise. But still far too smug for his liking…
He wasn't sure if he should be proud or pissed off.
But either way, he was not about to let the kid get the best of him. So in a quick, half aborted movement, he tensed his muscles upwards and instead of accepting the man's hand, he feinted. Hooking the kids legs out from under him and sending him crashing down beside him, the man's sneaker clad feet practically level with his chin as the sudden skid pelted him with an uneven layer of gravel and dry, Georgian dust.
The soft hush of the long grass welcomed him home as he slumped back down into the dirt. Feeling unaccountably pleased with himself as the moist tendrils rasped gently along his sides. Tickling the flesh at his hips where his dirty green shirt had ridden up, exposing a proud strip of well muscled navel. The rough, scar flecked skin coloured with a thin trail of light brown hairs, winding it's way down to disappear under the waist band of his equally as dirty jeans. While a small smattering of dark freckles trickled along underneath, subtle but undeniably present as they darted across the outlines of a few barely discernable tattoos.
..He was struck by the fact that it felt a lot like contentment…Like he could sit here, slumped into the Georgian soil like a possum basking across the sun warmed black top for hours and still be perfectly happy... And while he didn't know how he felt about thoughts like that, he was just as sure that he damn well wasn't about to move for anything less then a nuclear explosion or one of his mama's home baked strawberry crisps.
And for a long moment neither of them said a word. Too busy trying to bring air into their bruised lungs and collect the remnants of their tattered egos to worry about something mundane as words, until the younger man stirred, a single arm coming up to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun as he made to speak.
"You are such a bastard." Glenn finally remarked, the words winding up from somewhere around the vicinity of his left ankle, the kid sounding just about as pissed off as he was winded.
But it was the tone alone that did it. Making the corners of his lips twitch before the muscles themselves finally succumbed, curving upwards into the first honest smile he cracked in what felt like months. The emotions behind the action pure, and decidedly undiluted as he grinned up into the cloud strewn sky.
And as he looked up, squinting through the high glare towards the clouds that were just starting to edge into the horizon, his jaw smarting in a way that made him sure the hit was going to bruise up something fierce, he privately had to agree.
He really was a bastard.
A/N #1: Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! (I like to respond to all my reviews so if you reviewed anonymously or I somehow missed you, I love you, just saying.)
A/N #2: Short chapter is short. But you have been spoiled with three chapters this week. So..ummm..NEENER!
"Flirting is the act of making a man feel pleased with himself." –Helen Rowland.