Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Though if they gave it to me I certainly wouldn't say no.
Warnings: See original chapter for a complete list of warnings. This particular chapter will contain significant adult language, violence, 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 9
"Oh god..Oh shit!.. Daryl!"
He must have blanked out. Hit his head on the concrete or something because the next thing he became aware of was Glenn's voice hollering at him from some point just above his head. The words themselves were barely legible and grating. The syllables and vowels melding strangely as they flowed like water across the very edges of his conscious mind.
He tried in vain to shake the fog away even as his brain sluggishly processed the way Glenn was clawing and yarding at the dead lying atop him. Dragging their limp, stinking corpses clear off him as a litany of curses spewed from between the kid's bruise bitten lips. It was a collection that even Merle himself would have been proud of.
"Talk to me man!"
He sucked in a harsh, half winded breath as he reclaimed his arms from somewhere underneath the second body. Bracing himself up on his forearms alone, his attention split between checking for any wounds and listening to the ominous ringing sound that had all but overwhelmed his hearing. Fucking ow.
He could feel the man. Glenn. He was all over him, sliding across his skin, fingers curling around his arms, digging into his hips as he checked for any bites or scratches. Even the sensation of the man's breath as it ghosted across the venerable arch of his neck. A feeling that contrasted strangely with the putrid, and almost sickly sweet smell of the undead, as the pressing weight of the downed walkers crushed unbearably tight across his chest.
He didn't even remember gutting the bastards..
"Are you bit! Did they get you?" Glenn yelled. Skidding through the gravel as he pulled the last of the dead heads off him, manhandling him more then a TSA agent at airport security as the younger man's fingers dipped dangerously low along his hem line. Strong fingers smoothing down across the expanse of his shirt and jeans, as if to prove to himself that he was in fact unharmed.
…Something that in the process actually ended up giving his dick a whole slew of rather new and interesting ideas then anything else..
Fucking hell.
"I am fine kid. Leave off already." He finally replied, lying through his teeth as his tone went jarring, trying to regain both his breath and his bearings even as he accepted the man's hand and was pulled easily to his feet. In fact, if he was being entirely honest, he felt like hammered shit. But the younger man didn't seem to notice, his relieved grin going from zero to mega watt in close to half a second flat.
"Oh thank god!" Glenn exclaimed, as if he had been waiting this whole damn time just to hear him speak, before the kid abruptly seized him in an awkward sort of half masculine embrace. All relieved sighs and happy exhales that chilled tantalizingly along the sweat slicked skin of his nape. It was something that ended up shocking him more then anything else, his muscles seizing in his chest like a damn heart attack as the Korean's arms curled around his rib cage. It startled him worse then the walkers and the near death experience. Worse then waking up to a world where everything had started crumbling and the only thing you can hear when you try to get to sleep at night is the sound of dead feet shuffling, and the high pitched whinny of horses screaming.
..And it was just surreal enough for him to momentarily entertain the idea that he might have actually died after all..
Meanwhile Glenn's fingers were digging into his shoulder blades in a way that any other time might have been just a razor's edge shy of painful. The kid's hot skin mashed against his as the lines drawn between them simply melted away. Crossed in a way he knew without a second thought was going to be as permanent as bloody concrete, and just about impossible to take back. But for right now, in this moment, he was too busy reeling from the near miss to care that much.
Besides, it had been a long time since someone had held him this way..
"What the hell man!" Glenn yelled, finally breaking away with an undisciplined spasm of limbs. His face an uncompleted puzzle of wide, angry eyes and down turned lips. Face already accusing and over brimming with confusion before the words had a chance to make it as far as his lips.
And really, he thought that tone of voice was distinctly unfair considering the man's own track record. Hell, the kid must have a sign tattooed on his ass that said something along the lines as: "Walker meat" or "Kidnap me," because this was starting to get a bit reldicious.
He snorted internally. Ignoring the younger man entirely as he dusted himself off, cleaning his knife and sheathing it with a long, deliberate movement as he bent down to retrieve his crossbow. Giving himself time to mull over his actions as he set about collecting his bolts. Not even noticing the sick, liquid slick noise that occurred every time he yanked an arrow up from the skull of a downed walker.
Because when it all came down to it, privately he had to agree. It had been a fool thing to do. In fact Merle would have his balls if he ever found out. But yet, at the same time he knew that if given a second chance, he wouldn't have done a single thing differently. But instead of saying so, he turned around and glared right back at the man until the kid stopped giving him the fish eye.
"Saved your stupid ass, didn't I?" He growled simply, slipping the last of the bolts back into the quiver strapped onto his back as he watched the man out of the corner of his eye. Trying not to look amused was as the man spluttered for a good ten seconds before he finally found his tongue.
He didn't know what it was about this kid that he found so..interesting? No..that wasn't the right word. Intriguing? No. That wasn't it either. 'Fuck Dixon, think. There is something more here that you are missing!' His brain screeched; back peddling frantically even as he dangled on the very precipice of understanding. It was damn near maddening.
"Yes well…" The man began, clearly struggling to form his unruly thoughts into words. Even then he was tempted to just break the tension and shove the kid towards the truck, trying in vain to quell the nervous vibrations that were running up the length of his arms as he forced himself to wait. His face hard kept and decidedly wary as his feet itched to start pacing. Feeling inexplicably cooped up despite the wide open space.
"I-I don't want you dying. Like that..Not for me." Glenn finally finished, fingers spidering across his narrow hips until they were unceremoniously shoved into his jean pockets. The words sounding like they were hardest words the kid had ever said. And he realized that in return, he had no idea what to even to say to that.
He should be dead. He was almost positive of that fact. He had thought the scenario through enough times to know the difference between a slim chance and flippin' the bloody bird at fate herself. And yet, here he was. Having somehow taken down three geeks with nothing save for his belt knife and the size of his balls.
He had a feeling karma was going to bite him on the ass for this one. Perhaps even literally.
Why had he done it? He couldn't even begin to formulate a half decent answer. And worse, the pile of dead ringed out around them certainly didn't seem keen on providing any answers. In fact, they actually made the situation all the more damning. Leaving them surrounded by the evidence of what he had done rather then the other way around.
He ran the inside of his arm across the expanse of his sweaty forehead, as if trying to wipe the very thoughts from his mind. And he wasn't sure whether to be angry or worried when it didn't work.
So after a long, threatening moment, he leaned down and handed the kid his abandoned pack, pulling on his own as he started off towards the truck. Throwing his response over his shoulder like it was some sort of after thought. As if the words hadn't hurtcoming up, forcing them out like they were something flippant or even half truthful as the taste of bile rose high in the back of his throat. The phantom, acidic stink nearly making his eyes water as the sensation lingered.
"Who said anything about dying?" He shot back. Anger and confusion inexplicably growing as the full conations of what he had done fell over him like a ton of bricks. He had never felt like this before, never done anything this stupid neither. He felt completely off center, stomach twisting itself into cancerous knots as the back of his head continued to throb. Because this was different, this wasn't as simple as sticking his neck out to help protect and provide for people. Too keep the others alive and decently healthy.
This wasn't that simple.
Because he hadn't even thought about it.Why?What the hell was wrong with him? Shit. He needed a puff. A pick me up. Something, anything to clear the jumble of confusion and self doubt that was broiling in the back of his brain. Turning confidence and well affirmed aloofness into a mess of dark angles and unwelcome corners. Like he was suddenly a stranger to his own thoughts.
It was a heady and almost unmanning feeling. Because if he knew one thing for sure, it was that a Dixon sure as hell didn't do self doubt! Fuck this!
"Dumbass." Glenn muttered from somewhere behind him, cussing out something fierce in a garbled mess of extended constants and misplaced vowels. The words sounding foreign, lilting, and worse of all..almost fond. Even with the kid looking like he was a hair breath away from putting on his bitch face.
And call him crazy, insane, or even damn near psychotic, but for some slightly homicidal reason, in spite of everything, he felt like he was bullets breath away from outright laughter.
…He must have hit his head harder then he thought..
He was still rubbing his hand across the back of his neck in frustration as he came around the back of the truck, flicking the lock on the driver's side through a unrolled window. Unable to help but notice the clear, tangled up hose of gas siphoning gear stuffed in back seat of the truck cab. Smart girls.
And on pure impulse, just before he threw his pack into the back, he felt in between the sun visor, letting out a gratified grunt as the metallic jingle of the ignition keys hit the calloused flesh of his palm in one slightly awkward movement. Nice.
"Com'on." He hollered, watching the kid as he came around the side of the truck, well deserved caution leeching through into each and every one of his footstep even as he kept right on bitching. Bypassing the blood and gore smeared across the surface of the door with a quick, but factitious air as he swung himself up into the passenger seat. Muttering darkly just under his breath about something that sounded oddly like: "Not what I mean when I said 'up shit creek.' "
He spared the kid a curious glance. But in the end he figured it was better that he didn't know. God only knows what went on the kid's head anyway.
And as he righted the mirror and buckled himself in, he tried his best to ignore the way the seat was pulled up almost as far as it could go, adjusted and angled for a person much smaller then himself. Or the way a grey, weather beaten guitar case, wedged just behind the passenger seat occasionally caught the light. The vague outline of a long faded Texan cattle skull ironed lovingly into its side.
After a few heart stopping tries he coaxed the reluctant engine to life. Ignoring the indignant spluttering noise as the fuel lines kicked up a well deserved fuss. The gas gauge was flat lining on empty. But if they were lucky it would probably be enough to get them as far as camp.
And as they drove home, rare silence slowly descended. One that was as equal parts forced as it was natural. Because despite being covered from head to toe in both walker blood and pungent, mineral smelling clay, he found that the only real startling about the whole affair was the fact that he wasn't shoving the kid away. Saying nothing when Glenn let his limbs sprawl halfway across the truck cab, encroaching on his personal space without a single word. The bold, warm weight of the man pressing against him like it was some sort of a dare. Like he was testing him..
Glenn, for his part didn't even seem to notice. Apparently still too caught up in keeping his nose in a knot. Refusing to say even so much as a single word in his direction, seemingly content for the moment to trade glares with him from underneath the brim of his baseball cap.
'Bring it kid.' He thought with a wry, internal grin. He was a Dixon. They were born temperament.
Still, it had to be said, he wasn't exactly keen on listening to the kid stew for the next hour and a half. So on impulse he switched on the truck radio, not even thinking the action through as he fiddled with the dial. It was something that he still did on automatic. Something habitual and carried over from the way things were before.
…Only he ended up feeling worse when the static was the only thing that answered back…
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 all, just saying.)
*Daryl shaped cookies for those that can spot the gratuitous episode two character line reference.
A/N #2: Sorry this chapter is again a bit on the short side. I will be putting up yet another in the next few days. The next few chapters will be more on the short side as there is a definable shift in the story. So, expect shorter chapters but more updates a week. Savy?
"Every once in while, a person will do something obvious and direct that is no more than it appears to be. I think they do it to throw you off." -Steven Brust