veiledndarkness: (Max)
[personal profile] veiledndarkness
Title: Regression

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Daryl/Glenn

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Glenn peels back a layer of Daryl's defenses that he wasn't expecting. Written for the [ profile] twd_kinkmeme

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, no harm intended.


“You just don’t get it, do you? Jesus fucking…I can’t handle this!” Glenn shouted, the words tumbling up and out of his throat before he could stop and pull them back. As angry as he was, he couldn’t seem to stop his ranting, no matter who was currently staring at them.

He could feel the weight of everyone at camp staring and his neck flushed hot and sweaty. He hadn’t started this, but by God, he was sick of this shit.

It was too much sometimes, dealing with someone like Daryl. He reacted without thinking at times, flipped his shit over the slightest provocation, real or imagined and good God, he was overly possessive of Glenn.

“You can’t do that, Daryl, you can’t fucking do that to me! I’m not some helpless little kid here and I don’t need you of all people treating me like I need to be protected! I was fine, I wasn’t in any more damned danger than you were! Why can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull?” he raged and through his anger, sudden realization rocketed through him.

Daryl wasn’t yelling back.

He wasn’t throwing a fit or stomping around, spitting insults.

In fact, Daryl hadn’t moved since Glenn had thrown his backpack, full of supplies from their run into the nearest town, down to the grass in a fit of incensed fury. He hadn’t done anything but watch Glenn with oddly blank eyes. His crossbow hung from one hand, grazing the blades of grass and he seemed…like he wasn’t quite there.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Glenn gestured at him with his hand as he took one big step closer to Daryl, beyond infuriated.

And there…there it was. Daryl flinched at the sudden movement, his head down, eyes on the ground.

Glenn let his empty hand fall to his side limply, shocked into silence.

There was a hush behind him and his skin prickled uncomfortably. This was…not right.

What…the fuck.


Nothing, no reaction beyond the slight hunch of Daryl’s shoulders…

Glenn chewed on his lower lip, unsure of what he was supposed to do at this point. This was not the Daryl he’d met, hiding somewhat in the shadow of his loud, obnoxious, foul mouthed brother, Merle. This wasn’t the Daryl he’d fallen for, to the surprise of virtually everyone in camp, including himself and this sure as Hell wasn’t his rough and tumble lover right now.

He took a hesitant step closer to Daryl, his fingers curled in a half-hearted fist. “Um…”

“I…” was the first sound he’d heard from Daryl since he’d started yelling at him.

Glenn blinked and there was a creeping sensation crawling over his skin. “Daryl, you uh…you ok?”

Daryl didn’t say anything and it was almost like he was retreating without making a single movement. He lifted his head a fraction of an inch, darting a look at Glenn.

Glenn caught a look of banked fear in Daryl’s eyes. Oh Jesus…

“I, look, can we talk…in the tent, maybe,” he waved his arm in the general vicinity of Daryl’s tent.

And then, to complete the level of discomfort, Daryl turned and walked to his tent without a word, walking like he was going to his execution. Glenn chanced a look back at the others and gave them a feeble shrug. He hurried after Daryl, feeling his heartbeat pound against his ribcage.

Glenn zipped the tent panel shut and turned to face him, deeply disturbed by this new side of Daryl. It didn’t help that Daryl was standing off to the side, gnawing on the roughened skin of his thumb, his eyes still on the floor of the tent.

“I’m not really sure what uh…what I did, but you uh, I wasn’t gonna hit you.”

Daryl didn’t respond, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor but at least he stopped biting on his thumb.

“Daryl, this is freaking me out, ok? I…Can you say something? Please?”

“M’sorry,” was the mumbled reply.

Glenn closed the distance between them, ignoring the slight flinch from Daryl. “Um, good, but I’m kinda worried about…well, you.”

Daryl’s thumb strayed from his mouth and he lifted his gaze up a little. “Why?”

“Because!” Glenn sputtered. “This is…this isn’t you, Daryl!”

Daryl shrugged and let his hand drop to his side. His crossbow sat at his feet and Glenn felt a pang of guilt for causing this reaction.

“You like…shut down, man,” Glenn muttered. “What’d I do?”

It was Daryl’s turn to look concerned. “Huh?”

Glenn had a quick flash of insight and there was a memory working to come about, of seeing Merle corner Daryl once and scream obscenities at him and yeah, it’d been there, that submissive flinch and almost…almost like he was trying to make himself smaller. Oh fuck…He sighed under his breath, hating the fact that he’d done something that could compare him to the likes of a man like Merle Dixon.

“Daryl, listen to me, ok? I’m never gonna do things like that, I’m not going to hurt you like that. I promise.”

Daryl gave him a wary glance, searching his face, and then, seemingly finding what he was looking for, a trace of relaxation ran through his body. He shifted on his feet and lifted his head up and there was a look of need visible in his eyes that made Glenn’s heart ache for him.

Glenn moved against him, simply hugging the other man to him. He could feel the heat coming off Daryl; feel the lessening fear slip away from him. Tears burned under his eyelids and he hated Merle all the more for instilling such fear in the man he loved.

Daryl stood stiffly in Glenn’s arms for a long moment before he exhaled and melted slowly into the gentle hug, his fear dissipating in the realization that Glenn wouldn’t punish him for doing something wrong, for overreacting in the face of danger, for assuming that Glenn couldn’t protect himself in a dangerous situation.

“I…uh, m’sorry, honest,” Daryl mumbled in Glenn’s ear, “Can’t lose you.”

Glenn hugged him tighter and smiled. There wasn’t anything he could say that would reassure Daryl but for now, that was alright.


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