A/N: Here's chapter two! I wanted to thank Ihasabukkit for all of your help! Seriously, without your kind words and encouragement I couldn't have finished this chapter. Please, I've said it before but go read Three Trees because its rad as hell. Also want thank everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited and followed. It is really appreciated and I'm sorry I've been slacking on PMing my readers who do review. Life has been hectic!
Disclaimer: If the characters were mine Glenn would be with Daryl, not Maggie. Case closed.
Not BETAed, all mistakes are my own.
Chapter Two
Unlike at the convenience store Glenn's shift at the pizzeria was hectic; he delivered more pizzas than he could count, made a measly ten bucks in tips and lost the keys to the scooter provided by the store. Thankfully the owner had spares but Glenn was pretty sure the cost to make a new set would come out of his paycheck. On top of that Glenn was nervous about meeting with Daryl again. There was something dangerous about the older man yet he was so awkward it was almost laughable. Glenn wasn't sure if he should hug Daryl or run in the opposite direction.
Glenn stood outside under a street light for ten minutes alternating between wishing Daryl would hurry up and hoping he didn't show at all. Biting at his bottom lip Glenn watched an old, noisy pickup truck pull up and stop, Daryl's body slouched comfortably behind the wheel. Hesitantly Glenn approached the truck, pulling at the door only to find it immovable.
"Gotta put some muscle intuh it, kid!" Daryl yelled voice muffled behind the closed windows.
Blushing furiously Glenn gripped the handle in both hands, using his entire body as leverage. Finally it opened with a loud groan and for a second Glenn was afraid it might fall off completely. When he was sitting and buckled in Glenn turned to see Daryl shaking his head chuckling under his breath. Making fun of him. Glenn resisted the urge to huff indignantly opting to give directions to his apartment instead. The trip was silent save for some southern rock playing on the radio, a band Glenn had never heard of singing about his truck or his dog or something. Glenn wasn't really paying attention, focusing on the way Daryl kept bringing the fingers of his right hand up to his mouth, nibbling on the skin there. He looked as nervous as Glenn felt. Now that they were in close proximity Glenn noticed that Daryl smelled slightly of musk and sweat and some kind of body spray-Axe, maybe, Glenn couldn't be certain. It wasn't necessarily a pleasant smell but it wasn't completely repulsive either and Glenn wondered absently when the man had showered last.
"What're you lookin' at?" Daryl growled and Glenn realized he had been staring.
"No-nothing." Glenn stammered out, ducking his head so his face was shielded by the yellow brim of his hat.
Daryl parallel parked amazingly well considering the size of his truck and how painfully obvious it was that he wasn't from the city; with one hand on the wheel and the other arm slung across the back of Glenn's seat the older man swung the vehicle into the small parking spot without taking his eyes off the rear windshield. He glanced up at the big brick building then at Glenn and yeah, it wasn't the nicest apartment building around. Some of the exterior bricks were missing and almost all of the fire escapes were so rundown they weren't useable, not to mention the cigarette butts littering the front entryway. Surprisingly Daryl didn't mention any of these flaws as he exited the truck, walking around to the curb while Glenn attempted to open his door. When it again refused to budge Daryl smirked and yanked it open in one try, walking to the stoup without a word.
More than a little embarrassed Glenn made his way to Daryl, head down until he had to look up to punch in the door code; the code had been the same since Glenn moved in two years ago and according to his neighbors it hadn't been changed in longer than that, which basically defeated the purpose. Half the people in the city could probably enter the building at that point. Glenn held the door open and gestured for Daryl to enter first, the older man eyeing the flower patterned carper. The building smelled like dust and spices. An Indian couple lived on the first floor and every day when they cooked it stunk up the first four levels. Daryl's nose crinkled against the overpowering smell immediately, looking around for the offending stench.
Glenn chuckled.
"Don't worry I'm on the sixth floor. You can't smell it up that high."
Daryl nodded but didn't respond otherwise. Glenn pushed the button to call the elevator, listening to the machinery moan and groan as it came to life. When the door creaked open Daryl poked his head inside, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He looked at the space skeptically and Glenn couldn't blame him; the elevator was tiny-he could stand in the middle and touch the walls when he spread his arms out-and extremely outdated.
"It doesn't work more often than it does, but it's safe enough." Glenn explained, stepping inside to hit the worn out "6" button.
For a moment he didn't think Daryl would follow but the older man stepped in as the door started to close, leaning against the back wall and looking at the floor.
"The elevator goes out like, a lot, for weeks at a time sometimes, so if you have anything against stairs…" Glenn trailed off hoping he hadn't just scared him away.
The elevator jerked alarmingly and Glenn pretended not to notice when Daryl gripped the handrail tightly.
"Think I'd rather take the stairs."
Glenn chuckled good-naturedly
"Yeah, I've been stuck on this thing more than once. But carting groceries up six flights of stairs isn't my idea of fun."
Daryl eyed him, looking Glenn up and down before his lips twitched with what Glenn assumed was a smile.
"That's 'cause yer scrawny as hell, kid." He poked Glenn's arm. "Probably never done manual labor in yer life."
Glenn took too long to think of a response because Daryl was right, he'd never done any heavy lifting before, and by the time he had something smart to say they were on his floor. Daryl stepped out quickly taking in his surroundings. Glenn dug his keys out of his back pocket and brushed past Daryl to stand in front of his door, the big "62" sign ready to fall off but he had never been a handy man, so to speak, and the landlord never came to fix things unless absolutely necessary. As soon as the door was open Glenn winced, belatedly remembering the state he had left the apartment in. The table was still covered in his overdue bills, sad reminders of the dire situation he was in, dirty dishes were piled in the sink and pizza boxes and cans of mountain dew littered the coffee table in front of the couch.
"Sorry about the mess." Glenn apologized, turning to face Daryl.
The older man entered the apartment with a raised eyebrow, immediately making his way through the entryway. Through the door was a long, narrow hallway that lead to the rest of the apartment; Glenn's bedroom on the right, tiny kitchen and even smaller dining area to the left, living room straight back and through there was the storage space slash second bedroom. Daryl trailed his fingers along the wall as he walked, casually eyeing the movie posters lining the hallway. He glanced quickly into Glenn's bedroom which wasn't too messy before continuing on, stopping to check out the kitchen. Glenn remained silent the entire time trying to gauge Daryl's reaction but the only man kept his expression neutral, eyes hard and lips set in a tight line. When they reached the living room Daryl whistled at the large flat screen TV (one of the only nice things Glenn owned), seating himself on the couch, boot-clad feet propped up on the coffee table without permission.
"Nice setup you got here, chink."
"I-what?" Glenn blinked a few times, startled.
"You heard me." Daryl stared at Glenn with a glint in his eyes, daring Glenn to say something.
Glenn took the bait.
"Look dude, you can't be pullin' that shit, calling me chink. This isn't the trailer park."
As soon as the words left his mouth Glenn froze in fear, watching the way Daryl's muscles tensed. They stayed like that for what felt like forever, Glenn holding his breath.
"You got some balls fer a Chinaman."
Glenn gave him an odd look. "I'm Korean."
Daryl merely shrugged and stood.
"Whatever," He said, moving to stand next to Glenn. "So where would I be sleeping?"
Glenn didn't move for a second feeling totally thrown. Daryl was looking at him expectantly, almost innocently as if he hadn't just thrown a racial slur at Glenn and he had to literally shake himself out of his stupor. Throwing an apology over his shoulder while he strode over to the closet he slid the door to the left, grateful he hadn't used the storage space for anything other than his bicycle and an old TV. Daryl shoved his way passed Glenn into the room moving from wall to wall more than once, taking in the space (or lack thereof).
"I know there's no window," Glenn said, leaning against the doorway, "but I have one of those air filters you could have, at least freshen it up in here a bit."
Daryl ran the back of his hand under his nose and sniffed, nodding his head repeatedly to his own thoughts. When he dug his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a few twenties Glenn was more than a little shocked. He spluttered when the bills were shoved in to his hand-he counted one hundred dollars-and gazed at Daryl in a daze. For a half a second Daryl looked unsure.
"There's two week's pay. Can I move in now?"
"What?" Glenn swallowed thickly, brain still moving too slowly. "Yeah, sure. I-you want to move in now? Like, now, now?"
"Why not? All my shit's down in the truck, I got the money an' you got the space."
Glenn couldn't argue with that logic.
Daryl had four boxes of who knows what, two garbage bags full of clothes, an old turn table, and two milk crates of records, a mysterious black duffle bag, and a crossbow. Glenn had done a double take when he saw that but with one glare from the redneck kept his questions at bay.
"You don't have a bed." Glenn pointed out stupidly.
"No shit, kid." Daryl didn't look away from his crossbow which he was meticulously cleaning where he sat on the floor of his new room.
"Well…" Glenn looked around as if a bed would magically appear. "Where are you going to sleep?"
Daryl patted the hardwood under him. "Right here. Where do'ya think I'm sleepin'?"
"I just…" Glenn trailed off. "It looks uncomfortable." He shuffled from foot to foot.
"Trust me, Chinaman I've slept in worse places."
Glenn was curious but chose not to comment.
"Well you're more than welcome to crash on the couch until you get a bed."
The room was silent for longer than Glenn was comfortable with. Daryl was looking at him with a half shocked half annoyed look on his face.
Daryl never did respond but when Glenn got up to get a glass of water a few hours later he found Daryl sprawled out on the couch, an old blanket long fallen off his body and lying in a heap on the floor.
Daryl was sitting on the couch wide awake when Glenn stumbled out of his room. The TV was off and Daryl was just sitting quietly browsing through what looked like a hunting magazine. He looked up when he noticed Glenn, nodding his head in greeting. Glenn grunted in response, grabbing a bowl of cereal before taking a seat next to Daryl.
"Mind if I turn the TV on?" Glenn asked voice still thick with sleep.
"Go ahead kid. Yer place."
"Our place," Glenn corrected.
"Whatever you say."
If Daryl thought Saturday morning cartoons were immature he didn't say anything.
"So how old are you?" Glenn blurted out some twenty minutes later. They hadn't said a single word to each other and Glenn was beginning to itch with the awkwardness of it all.
"'Scuse me?" Daryl finally looked away from his magazine, turning his body slightly away from Glenn's.
"I was just curious. You're older than me but I have no idea-"
"-Thirty-two." Daryl interrupted. "What about you pipsqueak?"
Glenn flushed at the nickname. "Twenty-two."
"You don' mind livin' with an old man?" There wasn't a smile on Daryl's face but Glenn could see the humor glinting in his eyes.
"You're only ten years older than me, I wouldn't exactly call that old."
"Sure feel it sometimes." Daryl stretched his arms over his head, bones cracking as if to prove a point.
"So why'd you need a place so badly?" Glenn asked.
Daryl looked sharply at him.
"None a yer damn business," Daryl snapped, lip curling in a snarl.
Glenn almost jumped.
"Sorry, sorry." He held his hands up defensively. "I didn't mean anything by it."
"Jus' needed a place, ok? Been sleepin' in the damn truck few a few weeks, was worried my shit would get stolen while I'm workin' or something."
"Do you like working at the coffee shop?" Glenn attempted to change the subject.
"Hell naw, kid. I hate that place but gotta make money, you know?"
Glenn scoffed. "Oh yeah, I know. I'm obviously desperate for it."
"What? Can't run to mommy and daddy fer help?" Daryl taunted.
"How about you don't talk about things you know nothing about?" Glenn snapped, suddenly furious.
Daryl sat up straighter and a vein bulged in his neck.
"You know," Daryl said slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I've knocked guy's teeth out fer less. You best watch who yer talkin' to, kid."
"And you best mind your manners if you're going to be living here. I won't take your shit." Glenn's palms were sweaty and he thought for sure he was about to get a fist to the face.
"Fer such a nerdy lookin' chink you sure do talk a big game. Gotta teach you to back that bark up, huh? You ever been in a fight?" Daryl was smiling now, just the slightest turn to his lips.
Glenn was again struck by how quickly Daryl's mood seemed to change.
"No, not really." Glenn shook his head. "Not a fist fight, if that's what you mean."
Daryl's smirk was kind of terrifying.
"Oh kid, you have so much to learn."
TBC…
A/N: Please review and let me know what you think! I love feedback, constructive criticism, comments and suggestions.