Simulation

Glenn

Daryl and I are doing target practice with our crossbows. He doesn't need the practice so he's fooling around with almost impossible shots and making a decent number of them. I'm working on accuracy and consistency and getting familiar with my best ever birthday present.

"Do you think we would have gotten together if the ZA hadn't happened?" I ask just as Daryl releases an arrow.

He jerks, misses and glares at me. "You fuck up my concentration, we're not going to be together now."

I ignore the empty threat. "It's practice. I wouldn't do it on a hunt. Answer the question."

"It's hypothetical and the world changed too much. There is no answer."

"That means you think the answer is 'No' but you don't want to say so. You can say what you think."

"All right, we probably wouldn't have met much less ended up like this."

"Don't you believe in fate? You can't think of any circumstances where it might have happened? You went to Atlanta sometimes and you eat pizza. That's two common factors."

"Why do I have to do this? Why can't you think of something?"

"If you come to Atlanta, it has to be your story, your motivation."

"You could have come to me."

"What would I be doing in Bumfuck, Georgia?"

"You know it's Benford."

"Freudian slip. I was looking at your ass. But the question remains: Why would I go there?"

"You aren't going to leave this alone, are you?"

"No."

He sighs. "I'll give it some thought."

Daryl

You ride your motorcycle to Atlanta for the weekend. Merle thinks you're tired of the local talent and want to tear off a piece of city ass. It's been awhile since you handled yourself and even longer since a woman handled you and it would be good to relieve some tension but the real reason for going is to get away from your brother for a couple of days. You're grating on each other's last nerve and Merle would let it fester to a blow-up instead of taking a break from each other.

You're riding the motorcycle instead of driving the truck because you don't want to leave it at home. You and Merle each have a motorcycle and you share the truck. Merle totaled his chopper a few weeks ago and had no insurance and can't afford to replace it yet. He misses playing biker dude and thinks brothers should share and share alike. You disagree because you take better care of your stuff than Merle does his and he's no more careful of yours than his own. So he's using the truck unless you really need it and you won't let him borrow your motorcycle.

Spring in Georgia makes for a nice ride. You stop at a couple of hunting outfitters and gun stores and are heading for a motel when your life changes because you witness an accident. A kid on a motor scooter is sideswiped right in front of you and you barely avoid running him over. The kid is lying on the pavement. There's some blood but it's not visibly spurting or pooling around him. He's wearing a helmet and you aren't sure you should move him without bracing his neck. The woman at fault is horrified but before 911 can be called you notice a hospital up the block and the emergency entrance is practically opposite. Some employees on a smoke break have sprung into action and a gurney is on its way. A patrol car pulls up behind your motorcycle with lights revolving.

The cops divert traffic while the kid's neck is being immobilized. The gurney heads for the ER and the female cop starts with the woman's statement. The male cop asks if you are a witness. You nod and he tells you to stick around. He snaps pictures of the accident scene and gets some measurements then says, "Let's take this off the street." He wheels the scooter across to ER parking and you follow with your motorcycle.

Back at the accident the woman's SUV has little damage and she's leaving. You aren't surprised she's not coming to the hospital. By now her husband and lawyer and insurance agent have all advised her to say nothing incriminating and admit no fault and to get away as quickly as possible. The cop who took her statement has to respond to another call and will pick up her partner when he's finished with your statement and the victim's. You enter the ER. The kid is being worked on in a cubicle. The cop takes your statement then goes to see the kid. He didn't say you could leave and you didn't ask. You figure you better stay in case there are questions after he talks to the kid.

The cop comes out and says you're free to go. You ask if the kid is all right. "We'll get a medical report for the file," he says noncommittally then he leaves. Privacy issues probably prevent passing along any info. It's none of your business but still, the kid got hit in front of you and he's been here for an hour and no one has showed up for him. You approach his cubicle and a nurse asks if she can help.

"Is the kid all right?"

"Are you family?"

You're about to tell her no and make your escape, having done your duty, when a voice from the cubicle calls out, "Daryl, is that you? He's my cousin."

What the fuck? He must have gotten your name from the cop but what is this cousin crap?

The nurse smiles and motions you in. You're curious enough to go. A young man is being stitched up by a doctor. Without the helmet it's obvious that he's a chink. Your dad called them Chinamen. The doctor raises her brows at you. "Cousin, huh?" she says to her patient.

The kid gives her a look and says, "Ever hear of adoption?"

That shuts her up. In fact her blush would be visible if she wasn't black. You can read embarrassment in her face that a professional woman of color has been politically incorrect to a fellow minority and a patient no less. You kind of admire that this kid thinks fast and doesn't take any shit. And then you're amused that the three of you form the basis of a bad joke. A redneck, a chink and a nigger walk into the ER. Could be a funny story if you weren't living it right now in some kind of twilight zone.

"You call your folks?" you ask then wonder if that's a mistake. Maybe he doesn't have family.

"I'm not dying so I'm not going to tell them. I'm still covered under their insurance. They'll find out when they get the bills."

The doctor finishes stitching the kid's arm. You realize you don't know his name. "How is he?" you ask.

"Contusions, 14 stitches in this laceration on his arm, and a possible concussion. He can't be released unless someone can stay with him tonight. Is that you?"

The kid is making crazy eyes at you that clearly mean 'Yes.'

"Sure," you say. The kid wants out of the hospital. He'll call a friend and you'll be off the hook. The doctor is explaining that Glenn - you finally have a name - has to be awakened every three hours to check his pupils and make sure he's responsive.

"Can you handle that?" she asks.

You actually have recent experience since Merle had a suspected concussion when he crashed his motorcycle. "Yeah," you tell the doctor, and then turn to Glenn. "Remember 'cousin Merle' last month?"

The kid grins.

The doctor takes your sarcastic tone as evidence of the family connection instead of a reason to doubt it. "Accident prone family," she says.

Glenn gets a prescription, signs paperwork and is released to your care. Outside he says, "Thanks for going along. I appreciate it."

You nod. "Your scooter is gone."

"It belongs to my boss. I called him and he came and got it."

The asshole didn't even come in to check on his employee. "What do you do?"

"Pizza delivery."

You're surprised. This kid seems too bright to be delivering pizza. Maybe it's a part-time job while going to school. "You calling somebody?" you ask.

He hesitates. "Yeah, I should find a phone."

You know he's lying. "Do you have anybody to call?"

"No," he admits.

"What about your folks?"

"Not unless I'm dying. I'll be all right. Doctors are always overly cautious."

That may be true but a concussion is nothing to mess with. Wasn't there an actor a few years ago whose wife got a bump on the head while skiing and died later? Your life just got complicated because even though there are more fucking Chinese on the planet than any other race and one won't be missed, you don't want that one to croak while you're responsible for him.

"Unless you want to change your mind and call somebody, I'm stuck. I'm in town for the weekend. If you don't want me to know where you live, I'll get a motel room and we'll stay there."

"I want to go home. I don't mind if you know where I live."

The kid was so sharp in the hospital that you figured he wasn't concussed but now he seems wiped out. Adrenaline dump probably. You're carrying the helmet they took off of him. It's a little beat up but functional. You hand it to him and put on yours. He's still standing there holding it and he looks unfocused. You put the helmet on him and ask if he can hold on for the ride to his apartment and he nods. He gets on behind you and puts his arms around you and gives directions. It's a shabby building in a rundown neighborhood. You don't feel out of place because it's the city version of how a lot of people live in your neck of the woods. The small house you share with Merle isn't much better.

His apartment is cramped but you're relieved to see a sofa so at least you can stretch out until you notice there's no door to a bedroom because it's a one-room studio with a tiny bathroom in the corner. The sofa is a pull-out bed and the only other chair doesn't look comfortable. This will teach you to be a Good Samaritan. The kid looks about to crash. He walks in and heads for the bathroom with his prescription to take a pain pill. You pull out the bed and he thanks you when he comes back. He kicks off his shoes and shucks his jeans and shirt. Bruises are starting to show. His skin looks paler than it should. He's slender but not skinny. There's some muscle definition. You stop because you realize you're inventorying a complete stranger's body, a young man, and that's creepy. He falls into bed and tells you he doesn't have much food in the house. If you want to go out for dinner, he'll be fine. You can take his key. He's not hungry and you agree it might be a bad idea for him to eat right now.

You're back in an hour. Glenn is sleeping so you wander around and look at a couple of photographs of him with girls. He looks several years younger in one and he's wearing a tux and the girl is in a fancy dress. Probably a prom picture. The other is more recent. He's a good-looking kid and the girls are cute. You stop snooping and settle on the chair. It's only ten o'clock but you don't mind an early night. You set your watch alarm for midnight but you only doze and are awake before it goes off. You wake Glenn up and check his eyes and ask him what he does for a living because you need to make sure he's not disoriented and that's one of the few things you know about him. He says you'll be worse off than him by morning if you sleep in the chair. He moves over to make room and goes back to sleep. You set your alarm for three o'clock, take off your boots and lay down. It's a pretty comfortable sofa bed. The alarm wakes you and you wake Glenn and check his eyes again. He didn't take a pill at midnight and is hurting now so he takes another one and goes to sleep again.

You set your alarm for six o'clock but you wake up a little before because someone is in your personal space and you aren't used to that because you don't spend the night with women you sleep with. You're on your back and the kid is on his side next to you with an arm across your waist and one leg hitched over yours. Apparently he's healthy enough to have morning wood because it's pressing against your thigh. This whole situation is all kinds of wrong but you decide not to overreact because you aren't queer and neither is he if the pictures are any indication. He was in an accident and he's on pain meds. You aren't a cuddler but he must be and he isn't responsible for what he did in his sleep. You're about to wake him when he stretches and thrusts his boner against you and enough is enough.

"Let me check your eyes," you say loudly. He opens them and moves away from you.

"Sorry, I tend to spread out when I sleep."

He doesn't sound embarrassed by what has occurred. Is he even aware of it? Out of the corner of your eye you can see the bulge in his briefs. He casually reaches down and adjusts himself before getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. He's in there longer than it takes to pee. Is he taking another pill, checking his bruises and stitches, or is it possible he's rubbing one out a few feet from you? You know what you would be doing and if he's doing it, he's being quiet about it.

He comes out and asks if you want to shower. You tell him to go first. You hope he doesn't come out in a towel or naked and dress in front of you but he takes underwear and clothes to the bathroom with him. You check his kitchen. Cereal, a few eggs and some bread. You fix eggs and toast and set the table and put out the cereal and milk. He looks surprised when he exits the bathroom and says you didn't have to do that. You tell him you are hungry and he should be, too. He is. After breakfast he cleans up the kitchen while you shower.

When you're dressed again he says you probably had plans for the weekend and he's sorry he screwed them up for you. He thanks you again. You nod, collect your gear and leave. You were going to take a look at used motorcycles and let Merle know what's available but it's Sunday morning and the place isn't open yet. You don't feel like sticking around so you head home early. You don't tell Merle what happened and he doesn't ask about your weekend. He's still surly about the motorcycle.

You think about Glenn the next few days, telling yourself you wonder if the kid is all right. Nobody seems to care about him. You wrote down his phone number when you were snooping and on Wednesday morning you call.

He sounds fully recovered when he says, "Tell me your trauma."

"Is that how you answer the phone?"

"Yes, dad, it is."

You pause. Is it possible you sound like his fucking father? He did mention adoption. Maybe he's a chink with American parents and that's why they don't get along.

"I'm not your dad. It's Daryl. Dixon."

"I know, I recognized your voice. I was just messing with you. How are you?"

"That's what I called to ask you."

"I'm fine. It's nice of you to check."

"Well, if you have a relapse, your cousin is going to get blamed."

He laughs. "You really went above and beyond by going along with that. Did I thank you?"

"Too much."

"I won't say it again, then."

"Be careful out there." You hang up before either of you can say anything else.

It's supposed to be over. You checked on him and now you can forget about the whole thing. Except you're thinking of him more and more. You tell yourself you can't be sure he's okay unless you see for yourself. On Saturday Merle has community service as part of his most recent probation. You drop him off at eight o'clock and tell him you'll pick him up at five. Then you head for Atlanta. You're driving the truck this time because Glenn hasn't seen it and you don't intend that he sees you. You drive by the pizza place and there are other kids on scooters but Glenn isn't one of them. You head for his apartment and there he is walking along a block from his building. He's wearing his usual jeans and tee shirt plus a baseball cap. He's moving easily and looks good. He turns into his building. You feel like a fool and a stalker and a pervert and you leave before he gets to his apartment and chances to look out the window and maybe recognize you even if he doesn't know the truck.

Back home you pick up Merle and have supper together and Merle goes to the local bar. He'll get a ride with someone later. You go to a bar one town over and drink a lot and go home with Sharleen. She's twice divorced, 33 and doesn't look a day over 40 but that's never stopped you from performing before and you're sure it's not the reason tonight. Neither is being drunk. You're grateful that Sharleen doesn't seem to notice or care.

What the fuck is happening to you? You don't get hard thinking of pussy and you can't fuck your fist without imagining his mouth or ass. Is this some midlife crisis that wouldn't have happened if you'd done the usual and gotten married and had a family? Is experimenting the answer? If you satisfy your curiosity, will this go away so you can get back to normal? You realize how desperate you are because you're rationalizing how to get what you want, what you're aching to have. It's unlikely that Glenn feels the same way although you did get the impression there was some kind of connection between you. It was probably just that he was hurt and you helped out and he's a friendly kid. But your mind won't leave the idea alone and your body is giving you no peace so the next weekend you take your motorcycle to Atlanta again. You need to see him, not to watch like last weekend but to talk to him once more. Then you'll leave him alone and force yourself to get past this.

You check into a motel and call for a pizza. You know he may not be the one to deliver it but it's worth the chance. If he doesn't show you'll have to decide how to approach his apartment. But you get lucky and when you look through the peephole in response to a knock, there he is. You open the door and when he sees you there's a flash of something in his face that makes him look the way you're feeling.

He smiles and says, "You should have called. You didn't have to get a room."

You open the door wide. He comes in, sets the box down and hugs you. You pat his shoulder awkwardly. You aren't used to openly affectionate people. You still aren't sure what's going to happen but this is already more than you expected. You ask if he has to work late.

"Nope." He pulls out his phone and makes a call and tells somebody that he delivered the order but he doesn't feel well and is taking off an hour early. "My boss owes me," he explains to you. "The insurance company of the woman who hit me is replacing the motor scooter plus he's getting the old one fixed cheap. He's coming out ahead on the deal."

"What about you?"

"All medical bills reimbursed which will make my parents happy, and I'm getting a settlement for pain and suffering. I can use the money. I've got some, uh, financial problems."

"You want to eat?"

"Sure."

You kick off your shoes and prop yourselves against the headboard with the pizza box between you. You talk while you eat but when the box and soda are set aside it gets quiet.

"Thanks for dinner," Glenn says.

You shrug. "Cheap date."

"Is it? A date, I mean." Glenn is carefully not looking at you.

Pause. "If you want it to be. Otherwise it's just friends having pizza."

He looks up and smiles. "Date is good."

Something loosens within you that you didn't realize you were keeping so tight. You aren't sure how to proceed but if this was a woman you would kiss her so you lean across and Glenn meets you halfway and it takes a few seconds to align your mouths but then it becomes a real kiss and you start wondering why you never liked kissing before. You're rolling together on the bed and there are too many clothes between you so you pull up his shirt and he reaches for your pants and you undress each other except underwear. Pretty soon the underwear is in the way so you yank that off and are finally skin to skin all down the length of your bodies. It feels like an electric current is running from one to the other, grounded by your cocks pressed together between you. Glenn puts a hand around both and squeezes and you place your hand over his and begin the familiar milking motion. It's not long before you both come, panting and shuddering, and you stop thinking for awhile.

When you're able to form coherent thoughts again you remember this was an experiment. You were going to satisfy your curiosity so you could get it out of your system and be normal again. But that's not going to work because this is what normal feels like now.

You look at Glenn. He's staring straight ahead but seems to feel your eyes and turns to you. "I've never done that before," he says.

Christ, was he a virgin in his 20's? "Ever?" you ask.

"What? Oh no, I've had sex before but not with ... a guy."

"Me neither."

"So, was it good for you too?" He's half-joking, half-serious as he delivers the old cliché.

"It was fucking fantastic," you tell him quietly.

The room is chilly on bare skin and the bedspread is soiled so you toss it aside and get under the covers and start touching again. It's slower this time and there's some familiarity since the first time is over with. Everything hesitant before is more assured now. There's a deepening pleasure that makes it even better. You're both exhausted after so you sleep for awhile.

When you wake Glenn confesses, "I was afraid you weren't interested in me like that. And if you were interested you wouldn't act on it. And if you did do anything it wouldn't be with me."

"Why not you?"

"I'm not very ... experienced. And I'm Korean and you're not."

"I thought you were Chinese."

"Well, we all look alike." But he's laughing so you assume he's not offended.

You tell him that you didn't think he'd be interested either because you're older and not Korean.

"It was the motorcycle and tattoos that got my attention," he says. "Only thing better would be a truck with a gun rack."

"I'll drive it next time."

"Seriously? Because I was kidding."

"I'm not."

"So there's going to be a next time?"

"If you want to." You have a moment of uncertainty. Maybe this was an experiment for him that he doesn't care to repeat now that his curiosity is satisfied.

He grins. "I wouldn't mind."

You're pretty sure this kid enjoys screwing with you, mind as well as body, and you don't mind that.

You clean up but don't shower because the bed is a mess anyway and you might as well wait until morning. You wonder if you'll wake up with Glenn's dick poking your leg. You're looking forward to it this time but when you open your eyes you see that he was awake before you and has pulled the sheet away and is studying your body. You're in decent shape but you've done manual labor and there are scars and that bullet hole.

He's only interested in one thing. "Last night I thought you were big but there was a lot going on and I didn't want to stare. You are big."

"Is that a problem?"

You aren't expecting him to lean over and take you in his mouth but he does. He works at it for a minute to make sure you're fully erect and then eases you out and says, "Not a problem. People tell me I have a big mouth."

You smile at the double entendre. "I hope you didn't blow them to prove it."

"I saved that for you."

It's his first time giving head but not your first time receiving so you have history for comparison and he's doing fine. Better than fine. Your heartbeat speeds up then skips as you feel the climax start deep in your balls and work up your shaft from root to tip. You're surprised you can come this morning after last night. When you recover you see that Glenn is hard and holding himself so you take over. You've never blown anyone before but you know what feels good to you and it's a success judging by Glenn's reaction. All your senses have been in overdrive since last night taking in the sight, sound, smell, taste and touch of a man instead of a woman. You like the differences.

You shower together but by now there's no temptation to go further. You dress and go out for breakfast. Glenn has to be at work by eleven o'clock and you need to be back home before his shift is over so this is goodbye.

"How is this going to work?" he asks.

"I don't think I can get to Atlanta every weekend, probably every other weekend."

His eyes widen. "Oh god, I didn't even think to ask. Are you married? Do you have children?"

"No! I've never been married and I don't have any kids."

"Well, good. I mean, good in this situation."

You agree that it's pretty fucking lucky.

Glenn

"That's it? You were doing so well and you just stopped."

"You asked how we might have got together. That's how."

"But I want to know what happens next."

"We keep getting together, that's what happens next."

"Every two weeks? Forever?"

"No, only until I can't stand you anymore. Then I dump your ass and save money on gas."

"Then I go to Benford, everyone finds out about us, Merle kicks you out and you move to Atlanta. You'll still save on gas."

"I thought you had no reason to go to Benford."

"Dumping me would be a reason. What would you do in Atlanta?"

"I took mechanics at community college. I used to fix motorcycles."

"So you could be a mechanic. And give crossbow lessons."

"I suppose."

"I guess it's true that you always hurt the one you love. You gave me a concussion and stitches so we could meet?"

"You told me that really happened to you. I just inserted myself in the story."

"Inserted yourself," I say suggestively. "You left out that first-time event."

"Do you think of anything but sex?"

"Oh, c'mon, it was funny. But go on."

"Who did you call to come get you?"

"No one. They kept me overnight at the hospital. I wish you were there when it happened."

"Yeah." Daryl looks around the tent. "It's not so bad the way it worked out. Except for the walkers. And almost dying a lot."

"And all the people who did die. Those are big exceptions. But it is nice to think we'd be okay with or without an apocalypse."

A/N: After you've gone forward and backward, go sideways. A lesson learned from Lost. I wanted Daryl and Glenn to get together in a different reality. NR fixed motorcycles before getting into acting so I borrowed that for Daryl.