A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who's read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story. I've gotten an overwhelmingly great response for this fic...I'm kind of overwhelmed. I promise to try to update faster from now on. A special thanks to minutecloser2failing and Ihasabukkit for all your support and for pushing me to keep going...and for the ego boost!

Not edited or ran past my BETA so all mistakes are my own and there are probably a few. Please feel free to point them out.

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own TWD. The comics and show would be much, much different if I did

Chapter Three

Every day for a week Daryl came home from work with grocery bags full of stuff; toiletries for the bathroom, food for the cupboards and beer for the fridge. He drank Pabst Blue Ribbon which Glenn thought tasted like watered down piss but Daryl insisted was an American Classic and infinitely better than any 'prissy beers'. Glenn now knew Daryl was taking daily showers-the man left puddles that soaked Glenn's socks every time-but Daryl still looked dirty. There always seemed to be a thin sheen of sweat and a dusting of dirt covering Daryl's arms and face but he smelled clean, like soap and the woods on a rainy day. Daryl still didn't have a bed so every night they sat together on the couch, bare feet kicked up on the table, beers in hand watching whatever sucked the least on television.

"So," Glenn said sitting up straight, "you have any siblings, Daryl?"

"Got a brother." Daryl didn't look away from the TV but Glenn saw the way his eyebrows furrowed.

"Older or younger?"

"Older, by 'bout ten years. Name's Merle."

"Merle?" Glenn snorted on a laugh, trying to smother it when Daryl glared at him. "Sorry, sorry. So. Merle, where is he?"

"Who knows." Daryl shrugged. "Jail? Drinkin' himself stupid? Could be anywhere."

Glenn watched Daryl, trying to determine if the older man was joking or not. When Daryl stood to stalk to the kitchen Glenn decided he didn't seem the joking type and wished he could take back the entire conversation. Daryl's face was hard and closed off, jaw clenched so tightly Glenn thought for sure he could hear his teeth grinding together. Once Daryl reached the fridge he pulled out a beer and downed it in one go belching as he pulled out another.

"I'm sorry." Glenn apologized and he meant it.

The can in his hand crinkled loudly in his grip.

Daryl didn't say a word as he sat back down next to Glenn, cracked his neck.

"Stop sayin' yer sorry all the time, Kid."

"Sorry-" Glenn winced and cut himself off.

"You keep apologizin' to everyone they're just gonna walk all over you."

Glenn was too ashamed to admit aloud that people already did. Instead he said, "I shouldn't have pressed."

When Daryl's third beer was halfway done he set it down, completely ignoring the coaster and just when Glenn was about to chastise him for it Daryl grabbed his wrist. The grip was tight and almost painful but Glenn didn't pull away, only flexed his fingers, testing their range of motion. Daryl was gazing at Glenn curiously, eyes squinted just enough to put his crow's feet on display. They stayed like that for what felt like forever, eyes locked and Glenn thought Daryl might say something snarky but the older man remained mum, dropped Glenn's arm, walked to his room and didn't come out for the rest of the night. Glenn sat on the couch for an hour trying to figure out what had just happened.

Glenn was lonely. It was Friday night and he had come home to a dark, empty apartment and for the first time since Daryl had moved in the realized how much he had been craving the company. There wasn't a note (not that Glenn had expected one) but Daryl's things were still there so he could at least rule out the possibility that the older man had left completely. Usually the two of them would be drinking and lounging on the couch, a routine they picked up and stuck to even after living together only a few weeks. Bored already Glenn popped open one of Daryl's beers, digging his phone out of his pocket deciding to call up his oldest friend in the city.

"Hey man," Glenn spoke into the mouthpiece absently drinking his beverage. "Look, you want to go out tonight, grab a few beers?"

Glenn hopped up onto the counter, legs dangling lazily over the edge.

"You coming out of your cage, dude?" Brent chuckled over the line.

"Ha. Ha. I have to work unlike you, asshole." Glenn laughed through the harsh words.

"Not my fault I'm a trust-fund baby." Brent yelled at someone in the background, words muffled. "Come out tonight and drinks are on me. I even have someone I could hook you up with."

Glenn groaned. "No more blind dates, dude. Last time you ditched me with a fucking baby."

"The ID said twenty-one, brother. I can't be blamed for a really good fake."

There was a short pause during which Glenn contemplated.

"You can pick the bar but no blind date. Deal?"

"Yeah, yeah. Deal. Meet me at that place on 2nd in an hour." Without a goodbye Brent hung up with a soft click leaving Glenn in the silence.

An hour later Glenn found himself seated at the bar waiting on Brent, one shot and half a beer in. Loud, indie music blared throughout the cramped room and people were chattering all over the place but Glenn kept to himself, fingering the peeling label on his Heineken. A hand on his shoulder startled Glenn enough to make him jump, turning to see Brent's wild red hair and shit-eating grin. The man's mouth was all teeth, big and white and perfectly straight.

"G-man!" Brent yelled loudly, squeezing onto the stool between Glenn and a large woman wearing a shirt that just didn't fit. "How's it hanging?"

"So tell me about the new roommate of yours," Brent inquired a few too many beers later, signaling the bartender for another round of shots.

"He's…" Glenn trailed off trying to think of a way to describe Daryl. He took a long swallow from his bottle. "Daryl is different."

"What do you mean, 'different'?" Brent asked, sliding a shot glass in front of Glenn.

They clanked their glasses together-toasting to something stupid like their fallen homies-and knocked them back. Glenn relished in the burn, could feel the tequila slide all the way to his belly. It had been a while since he last drank and Glenn was already a little lightheaded, buzzing comfortable.

"I don't know, man," Glenn continued, "he's quiet and kind of shy, but he's probably the scariest dude I've ever met."

"It's always the quiet ones you need to worry about G-man!" Brent crowed, nudging Glenn with his elbow. Glenn laughed and shoved him back.

"So this guy is willingly living in your closet?" Brent was giggling now, his face turning an amusing shade of pink. "Must be some kind of loser."

Glenn felt a strange surge of anger.

"Don't call him that," Glenn snapped feeling as shocked as Brent looked. "He's a good guy, Brent don't put him down."

Brent's smile faded slowly as it dawned on him that Glenn wasn't messing around. His face was still flushed but he looked more confused than angry. Even though Glenn knew he shouldn't be mad at Brent-he barely knew Daryl, after all-he couldn't help but feel protective of his roommate. Brent reached for one of the small, square bar napkins, unfolding it with a quick flick of his wrist and with a smirk he waved it in the air like a flag of surrender.

"Sorry bro, I didn't mean anything by it. I was just trying to crack a joke…didn't realize you two were tight yet."

"I don't-we're not-" Glenn dragged his hat off his head in frustration, fingering the worn edges. "I wouldn't say we're tight. He just seems like a decent guy to me, even if he calls me chink all the time."

Brent stared at him for along moment before bursting into uncontrollable laughter, Glenn following soon after.

Glenn was drunk.

He was ShitIdon'trememberwhichfloorIliveon drunk. A cab Glenn doesn't remember getting into dropped him off in front of his apartment building and he struggled for five (ten) minutes with the door code. Giggling like a teenage girl he entered the elevator and stared at the numbered buttons on the wall, the digits swimming and crisscrossing to the point where Glenn couldn't tell which was which so he pushed all of them, lighting them up like a Christmas tree. With a jerk the elevator set into motion, going up slowly and loudly, door opening and closing with each passing floor. Glenn curled around himself in the corner, staring at numbers blinking before him and almost missed when it was time to exit.

Glenn fumbled with his pockets trying to decipher which one his keys were in when he spotted him; Daryl was slumped up against their front door fast asleep, head lolling to the side. Snickering, the Asian man quietly approached his roommate, crouching down in front of Daryl to stare intently. He leaned in closer yet, squinting his eyes trying to focus his vision because Daryl had a block eye and a split lip and even in his sleep looked to be in pain. Daryl's shirt was rumbled more than usual, the first three buttons were popped off, nowhere to be seen and splatters of blood littered the collar. The older man's knuckles were bloody and swollen, curled into tight fists on his lap.

"Daryl." Glenn staged whispered, poking him on the shoulder.

The second Glenn touched Daryl was moving, grabbing Glenn in a headlock before his eyes were even open. Daryl's arms felt heavy around Glenn's neck, his breath coming in sharp gasps next to the younger man's ear and for a brief second Glenn panicked, trying to break free of the hold. Then the arm was gone and Daryl was on his feet refusing to meet Glenn's eye. Leery of Daryl's skittishness Glenn reached out slowly, just enough to brush his fingertips along the knuckles of one of Daryl's hands.

"You ok dude?" Glenn asked and winced at how slurred his words sounded.

"You drunk, Chinaman?" Daryl laughed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned in to peer at Glenn. "Look at how red yer face is!"

"Yeah, yeah," Glenn grinned and swayed on his feet. He attempted to school his features into a serious frown. "What happened to you?"

Daryl shrugged, "Got jumped on the way home. Took muh keys an' my wallet."

"You got jumped?" Glenn squeaked flailing his arms about, dropping his keys in the process.

Daryl bent down to retrieve them and Glenn didn't miss the wince of discomfort.

"Yeah kid, jumped. You know, like mugged, robbed?" Daryl squared his shoulders and unlocked the door only turning around when Glenn tripped over his own feet into the doorframe.

"But how?" Glenn asked gripping Daryl's forearm as the older man helped him into the apartment. "I mean just look at you!"

"What the hell're you talkin' about?" Daryl wrapped an arm around Glenn's waist to steady the drunk man.

"You!" Glenn stumbled again and laughed loudly, holding onto Daryl so he wouldn't fall down. "You just look mean."

"That's 'cause I am mean, kid." Daryl hiked Glenn up a little higher and led him towards Glenn's bedroom.

"No you're not. I mean yes, you can be, but really you're a good dude. But you look mean. Know what I mean?" Glenn rolled his head to the side and tucked his face into the crook of Daryl's neck. "And your arms are huge."

"My arms ain't huge kid, trust me." Daryl laughed and hauled Glenn through the threshold of the room.

"Ok well not huge, but look at them!" Glenn sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed one of Daryl's arms in both his hands. "They look strong. I wouldn't mess with you on the street. No way you got jumped by one dude."

Daryl pulled away abruptly, yanking his arm out of Glenn's grasp. His face hardened and his eyes crinkled as he glared at the other man.

"You don't know shit, chink so why don' you keep yer thoughts to yerself, huh?"

Glenn watched on wide-eyed as Daryl fled the room, slamming the door shut behind him

TBC...

A/N: Please review and let me know what you think. I appreciate any words you throw my way. Also, I hope my OC didn't turn anyone off of this story. In general I dislike OCs but he's necessary for the story. Normally in an AU I would just have an existing character be Glenn's friend but since this is only kind of, sort of an AU I couldn't do that.

Disclaimer 2: I sadly don't own the toast about fallen hommies. That's from "Crazy Stupid Love"