A/N: WOW. Ok. Sorry about the huge wait. I had a good reason at first, and then it just turned into me hating everything I wrote. I was sick with the flu for about three weeks, then away at a friend's/magfest for a week. Then after that my writing just looked terribly to me.

So here's half of what I have written. The end needs a little work (I'm hoping to get it out tomorrow or Sunday) but you guys have waited so long I decided to post up about half of it since it's all edited. Huge thanks to Ihasabukkit for helping me work through some awkward parts.

Disclaimer: Not mine

WARNINGS: Drinking and drug use (and by drugs I mean marijuana)

Chapter Six

October was drawing to an end by the time Daryl finally got a bed. He dragged it through the door at eleven o'clock at night looking worn and tired, arms flexing under the strain-it was only a double but the mattress looked thick and firm. Glenn rushed to help, lifting one end while Daryl lifted the other and with a nod of thanks the older man maneuvered them into his room.

"Set it against the wall," Daryl ordered, jerking his head toward the far right corner. "Box spring is out in the hallway," he added, leaving the room.

By the time Glenn had the mattress propped up against the wall Daryl was back with the box spring, grunting as he dropped it noisily on the floor. With boot-clad feet he kicked at it until it was snug in the left corner farthest away from the door. Daryl's face was slick with sweat and with an aggravated huff he swiped at his eyes to expel the moisture, tugging the mattress until he was able to propel it atop the box spring. Glenn smiled fondly when Daryl flopped backwards onto his new bed, unfolding his body to stretch out fully, arms and legs spread out leisurely, eyes closed.

"Feels good to have a bed again," Daryl said after a quiet moment, "been a while."

Glenn stood awkwardly in the doorway while Daryl remained on the bed, basking in the comfort of the plush cushioning.

"So," Glenn began. Daryl cracked one eye open to look at Glenn, apparently too lazy to do much else. "My friend Brent is having a Halloween party this weekend and I was wondering you wanted to go."

"You want me to go party with all of yer college buddies?" Daryl scoffed, throwing an arm up ruffle his already messy hair.

"I just thought you might want to get out of the house, meet some new people." Glenn shrugged, beginning to regret inviting Daryl.

The older man considered him carefully, sitting up on one elbow. "You want to bring an old man to drink with all the people you know?" There was a smirk on his face but Glenn caught a slight hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"You're not old!" Glenn laughed, trying to reassure Daryl. "And you're my friend, aren't you?"

Daryl looked away quickly, not speaking for so long Glenn was considering backing out of the room, thinking that perhaps he had overstepped his bounds and crossed some line Daryl had put up.

"Where's the party at?" Daryl finally asked. He sat up fully, rubbing at a smudge of dirt on the back of his hand.

"Brent's family has a cabin outside of town. In the middle of nowhere, really, so he has fires out there once in a while." Glenn scrubbed at the back of his neck.

"Middle of nowhere, huh? I can do that."

Glenn couldn't help but grin.

Glenn watched Daryl's entire body begin to relax; the farther from the city they got the more at ease he seemed, back slouching, arm dangling out the window despite the slight chill to the air. The bed of the truck was packed with things Glenn didn't think they'd need-a tent, Daryl's crossbow, a sleeping bag and a toolbox filled with miscellaneous things-but Daryl had been adamant about bringing them. "You never know, kid," he had said and Glenn had only shrugged.

The snick of a can being opened drew Glenn's eyes back to Daryl, who was holding an open PBR he had pulled out of-somewhere. Glenn looked around but didn't see a bag and the cooler was in the back seat under a mini keg of Heineken. Daryl drank heavily from the can, the liquid slurped into his mouth noisily.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Glenn asked, looking around in alarm.

"Relax, Shortround," Daryl laughed, taking another swig, "we're the only ones out here. You see any pigs?"

"I-" Glenn looked around one more time before relenting with a sigh.

Daryl hummed.

"Where'd you pull that from, anyways?"

Daryl didn't respond, instead he balanced the can and steering wheel in his right hand, reaching under his seat with his left. A second later there was a lukewarm PBR shoved in Glenn's hand. Glenn eyed it suspiciously, casting Daryl a side-long glance.

"I know it ain't yer fancy chink beer," Daryl commented when Glenn finally opened the pull-tab, "but drink up."

Glenn did just that.

By the time they arrived at the party Glenn had a weak buzz-he had no idea how Daryl had fit that many cans under his seat-and was more than ready to really unwind. As Daryl parked the truck Glenn could feel the tension building back up in the man. Instead of commenting Glenn just exited the vehicle (he could finally open the door without assistance), the music from the party loud, bass thumping. People were spilling in and out of the large cabin, some standing on the front porch, others meandering around the yard. Glenn had the cooler and keg out of the back and settled on the ground when Daryl finally made his way around, wordlessly grabbing on end of the cooler. Glenn was quick to take hold of his side, wondering if inviting Daryl had been a good idea. Glenn led them to the backyard where he knew Brent would be, watching Daryl out of the corner of his eye.

Brent was cursing around the blunt in his mouth, kicking at a pile of firewood that wasn't lit. When he saw Glenn he cheered, puffing one more time before passing the blunt off to Glenn, who took it gladly.

"Having trouble?" Glenn asked after a toke, nodding to Daryl to set the cooler down. He promptly opened it and took out another beer.

"Been trying to get a fire started for an hour!" Brent complained. "I think the wood is wet or something."

"Wow, dude, guess your Boy Scout training really didn't pay off." Glenn handed the blunt to Daryl, who looked slightly surprised.

"Didn' know you had it in you, Chinaman." Daryl smirked when he slipped the roll between his lips, closing his eyes as he held the smoke in.

"This the guy?" Brent inquired, crossing his arms and giving Glenn a look.

Daryl held in a cough, quirking an eyebrow at Glenn, "Guy?" Smoke exhaled in thick clouds out of his mouth and nostrils.

"Brent, this is Daryl, my new roommate," Glenn introduced. "Daryl, this is Brent."

The two nodded at each other, all of them falling into a comfortable silence, blunt passed between them in a lazy circle.

"Where's the fire?" Someone yelled and Brent muttered something before running off.

Brent came back with a look of determination on his face and a can of lighter fluid in his hands, striding towards the fire pit. Daryl choked on his beer, grabbed Brent around the bicep to pull him back and spluttered, "What're you doing?"

"Getting this bitch started!" Brent yelled and a few people nearby cheered.

When Brent raised his arms above his head triumphantly Daryl chuckled and snatched the lighter fluid from him, setting it on the ground.

"Easy there, Rambo," Daryl calmed Brent, "let me handle this."

Glenn watched Daryl go over to the fire pit, hands steady and sure. The older man removed the larger logs and fingered the smaller sticks, feeling their texture. With an unconscious click of his tongue Daryl unsheathed the knife that was forever at his waist, cutting slits into the wood with downward strokes, then stacked them into a pyramid like Glenn had seen on those survival shows. Daryl reached blindly behind him, grabbing a few fallen leaves and dry grass, stuffing them in between the wooden teepee.

"He's like a fire ninja," Brent stage whispered with a giggle.

They watched as Daryl patted his pickers, extracting a black lighter. Soon there was a low fire and Daryl bent over to blow on the embers, causing the flames to steadily grow. Daryl piled on a few thicker pieces of wood and stood, admiring his handiwork proudly. Party-goers were immediately drawn to the fire, all of them chattering happily and loudly. Glenn offered Daryl a fresh beer when he wandered back over.

"What was all that?" Brent asked.

"What was what?"

"When you cut the wood," Brent gestured wildly in a poor mimic of what Daryl had done.

"Them twigs you got are still green," Daryl started, Brent nodding his head eagerly. "When it's green like that it's harder to burn. It's still wet, you see?"

Glenn listened intently, intrigued by how much Daryl seemed to know. For the first time since they met Daryl seemed genuinely excited, happy to show off skills that were much less appreciated in the city.

"If you cut into it like that, the moisture will evaporate faster."

"Dude, that's some national geographic shit!" Brent praised, turning to the crowd that had gathered, slinging an arm across Daryl's shoulders. Glenn saw the way the older man tensed up, hunching his shoulders against the attention. "Daryl Dixon, man of the hour!"

Cheers erupted, red cups and cans alike raised high in drunken wonder.

Glenn leaned back in his lawn chair, drink settled between his legs to free his hands. The glass of the bowl was cool in his hands and the fire was hot at his feet, and Daryl's elbow brushed his when Glenn lit the pipe. Daryl was talking to Brent about something and it took a second for Glenn to get his attention. Daryl took the piece from him without stopping his conversation. Exhaling slowly Glenn tilted his head to stare at the sky and wondered at how clear the sky was and how bright the stars were. The air was just this side of chilly, gentle wind brushing his cheeks deliciously and he felt more at ease than he had in a long time.

"Holy shit," Brent exclaimed, words drawn out dramatically, "is that Jake?"

"What?" Glenn jerked, spilling beer down his jeans. "Where?"

Brent pointed to the house where a tall, dark-haired man was scanning the crowd.

"Jesus!" Glenn hissed, ducking his head. "What is he doing here?"

"I didn't tell him," Brent assured, raising his hands innocently, "I swear I didn't. I don't know how he found out."

"Who th' hell is Jake?" Daryl's voice startled Glenn.

"Glenn's douchebag ex," Brent told him, standing as Jake closed in on the trio.

"Glenn," Jake said coolly, stopping in front of his chair.

Glenn gulped but stood, attempting to brush off some of the split beer. "Why are you here?" He asked, hating the way his voice wavered.

"Can I not see you?" Jake questioned with a sneer.

"I'm pretty positive that breaking up with me means we no longer have to be around each other."

"Dude," Brent said before Jake could say anything else. When he tried to move closer he stumbled, body disoriented after hours of drinking, and he bumped into a still-seated Daryl before righting himself. "I don't know how you found out about my party, but you need to leave."

"Stay out of it, Brent, this has nothing to do with you," Jake snarled, taking a step forward. Brent stood his ground.

"Leave, Jake," Glenn demanded, clenching his hands into fists. He tried to ignore the way his entire face lit up in embarrassment and anger.

"Come on, Glenn," Jake said, reaching out a hand to touch Glenn's face.

A hand shot out to grab his wrist before he could make contact.

"I'm pretty sure he told you to leave," Daryl stood, not yet letting go of Jake.

"And who the hell are you?" Jake's eyes narrowed and he tugged, trying to free his arm but Daryl's grip didn't yield.

"Ain't none a yer business who I am, city boy," Daryl's voice was deep, accent thicker than usual.

Jake winced and Glenn realized Daryl was squeezing harder, knuckles turning white before he let go. Suddenly Jake moved closer to Glenn, chests bumping, and Glenn fell back into his seat. He gasped, unsure of what to do but then Daryl was shoving Jake back with a rough hand on the chest, stepping between them and blocking Glenn's view. Jake righted himself, smoothing down a nonexistent wrinkle in his Polo shirt.

"Who do you think you are, you fucking redneck?" Jake yelled and a few people stopped their conversations to watch.

"You best get gone," was all Daryl said, body straight, stance assertive.

Glenn had known since the first day they met that Daryl was dangerous, but looking at him now almost made Glenn feel bad for Jake.

Almost.

When Jake didn't say anything Daryl took half a step in his direction, saying, "If you don' get outta my face I'ma break every tooth in yer mouth, boy."

Jake looked around him, at the people watching, and at the ominous man before him before cursing and storming off, looking back at Glenn once.

Glenn sat in a daze while Brent swooped in on Daryl, patting him on the back and yelling about how amazing he was. Daryl just shook it off, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. All the anger was gone from his face, replaced with the awkwardness Glenn was so familiar with. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Daryl ducked his head, shouldering past Brent to the cooler where he stayed, staring at the grass.

"Dude, seriously, that was amazing," Brent gushed, crouching down next to Glenn.

"I…have no idea what just happened," Glenn said, blinking owlishly.

"What happened is Daryl almost just beat the shit out of Jake! I kind of wish he had, I would have paid money to see that." Brent sighed wistfully before standing, patting Glenn on the shoulder and walking off to talk to a group of women.

Glenn bit his lip, playing with the hem of his shirt awkwardly. He kept looking at Daryl who was still shifting nervously from foot to foot. Finally he stood, walking over to the older man.

"Um," Glenn kicked at a pebble, "thank you. For what you did."

"No problem, kid," Daryl said gruffly, not looking at him.

"I-are you ok?" Glenn asked. "With me being, you know, gay? I guess I should have told you," Glenn began rambling, words spilling from his mouth at an alarming rate.

"Shut up, chink," Daryl interjected. Glenn snapped his mouth shut. "I don' care if you take it up the ass. Ain't none a my business, is it?"

Glenn let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Thank you," Glenn repeated.

"So what was with the tool?" Daryl finally raised his head to look at Glenn, small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, Jake?" Daryl nodded. "That's a long story, but I'm glad he's gone. I can't thank you enough."

Daryl was quiet, regarding his curiously. It looked as though he was about to say something but Brent's voice rang through the air,

"Beer pong!"

TBC...

A/N: The second half of the chapter will be up this weekend.

So I'm currently working two jobs (one part-time and one full-time) and attending college. So there's two options for chapters. Shorter chapters once/twice a week, or longer chapters once every two weeks or so. Let me know what you think!