Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead.

Summary: "Erm…hey, Daryl…can - can I have two tickets to the gun show?" In which Glenn tries - and fails - to hit on our loveable, ripped redneck. DarylGlenn, oneshot

I have no idea where this came from. It's not supposed to be a serious fic. At all. Just a fun fic, meant to satisfy my need for dork-ing up one of my favorite fandoms. Anyway, like I said, this is just meant for fun. Because there is only so much angst one can write at a time. So, hopefully y'all will enjoy the crack nature of this fic. Thanks for reading!

Stay for the Show

Glenn gulped and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He did so until he saw blotches of white and black playing along the backs of his eyelids before finally releasing the pressure and staring out in front of himself. This whole thing was completely ludicrous. Insane! A suicide mission, to be quite frank. He might as well walk back into Atlanta and scream out, "Hey, Walkers, come get me! I promise I don't taste like soy!"

He snickered at the last sentence, but that didn't last for long. Glenn started to pace back and forth, surely about to wear a hole in the grass from doing so, and bit at his knuckles.

Damn Andrea. Damn Lori. Damn Dale and T-Dog and Shane! Damn, damn, damn them!

But he had to do this. Why? Well, he could just chicken out and not do it, but then again, he had lost the bet. He had gotten beaten at poker by two crafty women and three other guys that might as well have been con men reincarnated in the forms of unthreatening, kind people.

That was on a normal day, of course.

The matter presented itself in a blur. Glenn wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but he figured that a little fun never hurt anyone. Poker was an awesome game, but he sucked at it. Hard. But, he figured, even though he sucked at lying, he could at least liven things up a bit. Life was too short to get scared of a harmless bet.

Well, what they bet him turned out to not be so "harmless" after all.

Glenn didn't even remember what he bet them in return. He supposed it didn't matter - because he lost. And that wasn't even the shocking part.

Now, this.

They were watching him, of course. Watching him like they'd never seen a guy make a complete and utter ass out of himself. He fidgeted nervously as he felt their eyes on him. Glenn chanced a glance at them only to see that the rest of the group had joined the poker players. Rick looked on in slight amusement as his arms wound around Lori, and Andrea shifted a bit closer to Dale.

Glenn shuddered.

Part of the bet was that everyone had to watch. Plus, Glenn just couldn't bring himself to enter the camper while he was in there. Knowing that there was a possibility that this could've occurred while they were alone made a strange feeling stir in Glenn's stomach, but he dismissed it. Like what he wanted would ever happen…

The door opened quickly, almost smacking Glenn straight in the face. He yelped like an injured dog and leapt back a few inches. He rubbed his nose self consciously and tried to open his eyes and stare at the man in front of him.

"The hell are you doin'?" Daryl asked, running a hand through his hair, not helping to straighten it out in the slightest. Glenn felt his cheeks turn red just by that action, and he let out a shaky breath.

"L-Looking for you," he replied. Crap, wasn't it supposed to be all, "Been waiting for you?" Like I'm a skank or something?

A loud hoot of brief laughter sounded from the group of survivors. Glenn wasn't sure who it was that had made the sound, but he shook his head and started back to what he was supposed to be doing.

"Well, here I am," Daryl drawled, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the side of the door. "What is it?"

"Um - well, you see…I…"

"What the hell is your problem? Last time I checked you spoke perfect English." He removed his hands from his pockets and crossed them over his chest. He glared at him, pursing his lips. Glenn found himself suddenly entranced by the man's stubble.

Blushing, he inhaled deeply and then wracked his brain for whatever he could. Whatever pickup line he had heard in his lifetime, he tried to think of whichever one would be so cheesy and dumb that it would satisfy the bet that he had made with the oddly rambunctious group that he had come to recognize as family.

"Okay. You lose, you have to hit on Daryl - oh, don't give me that look, it's completely obvious you dig him - with one of those obnoxious pickup lines. You know the kind."

"But…but - "

"We're not responsible for what happens afterwards."

Glenn shook his head at the memory of the past conversation and looked at Daryl, who spat to the side, narrowly missing his shoes.

Well, here it goes.

"Erm…hey, Daryl…can - can I have two tickets to the gun show?"

Silence.

Glenn could do nothing but note the way that Daryl's face lightened from annoyance to confusion. He could hear the snickering from the crowd behind him, hear the telltale snorts coming from Lori.

Then, Daryl did the most interesting thing Glenn had ever seen.

His face morphed from a look of confusion to one of amusement. Deep, pleasant amusement.

And he started laughing.

Glenn looked shocked, as if someone had just told him that Santa was the one who caused the Walker problem. He wasn't sure if he'd ever heard Daryl laugh before, but the sound was most pleasant. It was a deep, throaty thing, rough and ragged but pleasing to the ears. Daryl threw his head back and gave Glenn a nice view of his Adam's apple beneath the thin, tanned skin of his throat.

Daryl then looked beyond him and at the group that had conspicuously been watching the whole thing. They stiffened and scattered like cockroaches to various places around the camper, leaving Daryl and Glenn mercifully alone.

"I'm guessin' your ass lost a bet?"

Glenn blinked a few times, trying somehow to control the color his cheeks were turning, "…yeah…"

Daryl rolled his eyes before walking down to Glenn's level, staring him down with those intimidating eyes. There seemed to be a hint of humor in them now, which Glenn was grateful for. He took his index finger and flipped Glenn's cap up before saying.

"That was a shitty line, ya know. You could do better." Daryl said, strangely good humored, before looking down at his arms, "Guess I can see why you picked that one, though."

Glenn followed his gaze and found his eyes lingering on the taut muscle of Daryl's bicep. He heard that thick, throaty chuckle of his yet again, and shivers danced along his spine. Glenn tore his gaze from the arm to end all arms and looked up at Daryl with a questioning gaze.

Daryl gave a laugh and smacked Glenn's hat down on his head, causing Glenn to become momentarily blinded. There was a beat where Glenn really thought Daryl had lost his damn mind, or was going to beat his ass. Both, maybe. But then, out of nowhere, a teasing challenge came from the other man's lips.

"Better luck next time, kid."

"N-Next - " Glenn frantically shoved his cap back onto his head, looking around for Daryl, who had already started to make his way away from the camper.

"Shut up, Glenn." Daryl called back in faux exasperation.

Glenn could do nothing but watch him walk away, thinking that maybe - just maybe - that ridiculous bet had accomplished something after all.

End.