A/N: My sincerest apologies for the (very) long wait for this update. I have only two excuses: 55 hour work weeks + school, and feeling very uninspired. Everything I've written lately I've hated. But alas, that past few days have been great, and I've gotten a lot written, including a few pages after this chapter ends. So here's a long chapter for you to make up for my absence.

Thanks to my wonderful new BETA over on AO3, Crocochoo, and to MinueCloser2Failing for giving her input and helping me realize I don't suck at writing Daryl.

Disclaimer: Not mine

PS. This story is titled after a wonderful song with the same name by Johnny Cash and Emmylou Harris. It is actually important to the story, and is mentioned in this chapter. It's lovely, so please give it a listen (it can be found on Youtube). If Johnny Cash isn't your style, at least give the lyrics a read.

Chapter Eight

Having a day off from both jobs - especially in the middle of the week - was a rare occasion, so Glenn took full advantage of it. First, he turned off his alarm and slept until eleven, completely missing breakfast and Daryl leaving for work. Once he was awake, Glenn laid in bed for the better part of an hour, stretching out lazily and reading on his phone. When Glenn's stomach started growling, he finally dragged himself out of bed, intent on finding something to eat. Padding into the kitchen in nothing but his boxers, he ignored the mess Daryl had left in the kitchen in favor of making coffee, grinning when he found it filled and ready, just waiting to be turned on; Daryl must have cleaned it out and prepared it after using it that morning. Glenn made himself comfortable on the couch with an oversized mug of bitter coffee, turning the channel to watch the Ellen Show, enjoying a rerun that featured Jeremy Renner.

While the stars on TV discussed The Hurt Locker and Renner's Oscar nomination, Glenn checked the weather on his phone; it was going to be a bright, beautiful day with just a slight chill. When Glenn was finished, he decided to go for a walk and perhaps visit Daryl at work for a coffee that didn't taste like burnt water. Everything was dirty so Glenn threw on the closest pair of jeans and a blue zip-up hoodie, foregoing a t-shirt in favor of comfort. The only clean socks Glenn had was his one pair off dress socks, black and thick and probably too heavy, but he put them on anyways, slipping into his Converse before leaving.

The coffee shop was crowded when Glenn arrived, every table full and a line almost to the door. Glenn stood awkwardly between a hipster couple wearing matching plaid and an old woman complaining about the long wait. Daryl was bustling about behind the counter, red visor long forgotten though the apron remained, stained with coffee. A pretty girl with blonde, curly hair was at the register handling the money and calling out orders. Glenn could see Daryl moving with practiced ease, pouring coffee and mixing scalding hot milk, doing things one-handed that Glenn probably couldn't do with two.

"Hey Short Round," Daryl called, seeming to brighten a bit, "you just get yer lazy ass out of bed?"

"First day off in a while. I'm trying to enjoy it."

Daryl chucked and Glenn watched as he made a grande white mocha flawlessly. Glenn gazed at Daryl's hands as the man worked, realizing how fluid and confident he was with his task.

"-cream?"

Glenn realized belatedly that Daryl was talking to him. "Sorry-what?"

"I asked if you wanted whipped cream."

"Oh, sure." Glenn replied, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

Daryl pulled a large metal canister from the fridge, shaking it a few times. Twirling it in his hand in a complicated-looking gesture so the nozzle was face-down, Daryl swirled a generous helping of cream atop Glenn's drink, drizzling it with white chocolate and caramel with a flourish.

"Thanks," Glenn said with a grin, taking the hot drink from Daryl's rough hands.

With a nod Glenn started to walk away, planning on walking around the city since there were no seats available. He stopped when Daryl called after him.

"Hey kid!" Daryl yelled, but didn't stop working.

Glenn turned, "Yeah?"

"I get off in ten if you want to wait around?"

"Sure," Glenn's stomach growled, "want you grab some lunch?"

"You read my mind, Chinaman."

"Dixon!" The girl at the register gasped at the comment.

"What?" Daryl barked.

"You can't say things like that."

Daryl scoffed, "I'll say what I damn well want. Kid don' mind."

"I don't," Glenn confirmed, "but for the last time, I'm Korean."

Glenn sat on the curb while he waited for Daryl, stretching his legs out as far as he dared, careful to not get run over by a car. The sun was hot despite the November chill and as Glenn basked in it he had to shove the sleeves of his hoodie up to gain relief. People were out enjoying one of the last days of the season before the chill set in, traffic and chatter loud and Glenn closed his eyes to take it all in. Daryl had said many times he didn't like the volume of the city but Glenn found it comforting, relaxing, even, and the bustling about of people and cars soothed him into a lull.

"What the hell're you doin', kid?" Glenn jumped at the sound of Daryl's voice behind him, "Meditatin' or somethin'?"

"Just enjoying the day," Glenn stood, sipping the last of his coffee.

"You mean this racket?" Daryl looked at him skeptically, running a hand through his already mussed hair.

"It's not racket, country boy." Glenn teased as they started walking nowhere in particular, "So what do you want to eat?"

"Anythin' kid, I ain't picky," Daryl paused, "but I am starvin' so pick fast."

Glenn thought for a moment, taking their current location into account, "How about hot dogs?"

"Fine with me, Chinaman."

"I know a place, come on."

Glenn didn't think anything of it when he grabbed Daryl's forearm to tug him around a corner and down a narrow side street. They had gone half a block before Glenn realized his grip and, remembering Daryl's aversion to touch, let go as quickly as possible.

Glenn hastily apologized.

"'S alright." Daryl said, adjusting the collar of his shirt absently.

Glenn cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at Daryl to ensure he hadn't offended the man; when he was positive all was well they continued on. The two make small talk, mostly about Glenn's classes and Daryl's work, and avoided running into the other people venturing the sidewalks. The farther they walked the hotter Glenn got, feeling the beginnings of sweat gathering on his body. With a hum, he unzipped his hoodie a little more, enjoying the breeze nipping at the small expanse of skin he had just exposed.

"You forget yer shirt somewhere?" Daryl asked sarcastically.

"It's my day off," he defended, "I can't go out in my boxers, so I'm going to be as comfortable as I can be."

Daryl just grunted, eyeing Glenn's chest one more time before complaining, "Where the hell is this joint? You takin' me back to yer homeland or somethin'?"

Glenn snorted on a laugh, "My home- are you for real? No, I'm not taking you to Korea, I'm taking you two blocks that way." He pointed in front of them.

Daryl kicked an empty glass Coke bottle and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Whatever you say, kid."

The hot dog place was a hole in the wall, so small you'd pass right by it unless you knew it was there (Glenn had walked past it regularly for months before he noticed it himself). The door was only wide enough to fit one person and there was no sign to indicate what the building actually was. Daryl raised a skeptical eyebrow but followed Glenn in anyways. Inside consisted of a countertop so tall it reached the middle of Glenn's chest and behind that a small kitchen, and one lonely worker. Glenn had only seen two people working before; an elderly lady named Rose and her grandson, Jeremy.

"Glenn!" Jeremy greeted loudly, pushing the brim of his red visor out of his eyes.

"Hey, man." Glenn leaned against the counter.

"Haven't seen you in here in a while," Jeremy observed, "How's Jake?"

Glenn felt Daryl stiffen beside him.

"We broke up months ago."

Jeremy looked at Glenn for a moment before grinning, "Good. That guy was a dick."

Glenn chuckled and heard Daryl mumble something that sounded none too kind.

"So is this your new boyfriend?" Jeremy asked politely, looking Daryl up and down.

"No!" Glenn exclaimed, blushing, "No, this is Daryl, my roommate."

"I'm sorry, man," Jeremy said to Daryl, "I didn't mean anything by it. I just assumed."

"Don' worry 'bout it," was all Daryl said, shoulders hunching slightly.

"You don't look his type anyways," Jeremy teased Glenn, "he likes those pretty boys."

Glenn thought for sure Daryl was going to take offense to that but instead he deadpanned, "Ain't you pretty enough, boy?"

Jeremy slapped his hand on the counter and doubled over in a fit of giggles.

"Alright," Jeremy sucked in a deep breath, "What can I get you guys?"

"I'll have my usual," Glenn said.

"I'll have three hot dogs," Daryl began and Glenn gawped, "One with chili, cheese and mayo." Daryl squinted at the menu taped to the wall, moving closer with a curse, "One with slaw, onions, and chili; and the last one with just ketchup and mustard."

"Would you like chips and a drink with that?"

"You got beer?" Daryl asked seriously.

"I wish."

"Find, I'll take a mellow yellow then, and a bag of Doritos."

Glenn and Daryl talked with Jeremy while he prepared their food, placing each hot dog in individual paper wrappings. There wasn't seating inside or outside of the shop so they took their orders to go, bidding Jeremy farewell before Glenn led them to a bench he occasionally napped on between classes. Thankfully no one was sitting on it, and Daryl stared at the art painted on and carved into the wood; someone had decorated the bench with bright yellows and lively blues, an abstract array of colors and designs that Glenn had always found pleasant to look at.

Glenn was happy when Daryl ran an appreciative hand over the creation.

They sat side by side, just close enough for their knees to occasionally brush, watching people pass as they ate. They were quiet save for Daryl's soft moans after each bite and the sound of him sucking sauce off his thumb.

Glenn was about to speak when Daryl's phone rang.

"What d'you want, Merle?" He growled into the phone, setting his last hot dog on the bench next to him.

Glenn shifted uncomfortably while Daryl listened to whatever his brother was saying, concerned when Daryl's eyebrows knit together.

"I don' have the money to bail yer ass out, Merle." Daryl said, rubbing at his eyes. He listened for another second. "Fine. I'll be there as soon as I can, you fuckin' bastard."

He snapped his phone shut, hand clenching around it while Glenn was fairly certain he was seconds away from throwing the phone into the street.

"Everything alright?" Glenn ask hesitantly, not wanting to intrude.

"Merle got arrested again," Daryl shook his head, "Got picked up last night fer makin' an ass of himself at some bar."

"So what are you going to do?"

"He says he's got some cash stashed at his place. I got to go get it and bail his lazy ass out of jail. Again." Daryl spat the last word venomously.

"Well," Glenn said, stretching his arms above his head, "You want some company?"

Daryl glanced sidelong at him, "You sure you wanna go out in the cut?"

"The cut?"

"You know, out in the middle of nowhere? Merle don' live in the city."

"So I'll get to see where you grew up?" Glenn asked, curiosity peaked.

"It ain't nothin' special, kid," Daryl warned, "I didn' have no white picket fence, if you know what I mean?"

"The farthest I've ever been out of the city is Brent's vacation house, I'd like to see it."

"Suit yourself, kid, let's go." Daryl stood, eating his final hot dog as he walked away.

Glenn followed.

Glenn was sprawled out across the seat of Daryl's truck, legs stretched out in front of him, head leaning against the cool glass of the window. Johnny Cash was crooning softly through the speakers, an old cassette tape Glenn had laughed at when he first saw it, not remembering the last time he had seen an actual tape. His rough voice lulled Glenn into a light sleep, Daryl's humming enough to make his eyes slip shut. Daryl's eyes were on the road, one arm dangling carelessly out his window. Just when Glenn was about to nod off, a woman started singing along with Jonny Cash, a song Glenn had never heard before and didn't recognize.

I never thought that night we parted

That life without you would be this bad

Glenn couldn't help but think the song was beautiful despite how sad it was.

The town they drove into had no stoplights, and only one stop sign; Glenn didn't know places like this existed outside of movies, so void of large buildings and full of large, sprawling fields. There were trees and meadows everywhere, pastures full of cows and animals Glenn honestly couldn't name, though he thought he had seen a donkey. When they drove through what Glenn assumed was the "downtown" area, people stopped and stared, shielding their eyes against the sun. A few people pointed, talking amongst themselves.

Daryl groaned.

"This town's full of gossips. Word's gonna spread that I'm back 'fore we even get there."

"Why are they so interested?"

Daryl smirked, "You don' know what kinda name us Dixon boys have made fer ourselves around here."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not."

"That's what I thought."

The house they pulled up to looked more like a doublewide with a few extensions added on. It was a little run down but not as shabby as Glenn had been expecting. The door was on the side of the house, leading to a concrete porch of sorts covered with a shoddy tin roof. There were a few chairs and a workbench covered chaotically with tools, rusty chains hanging from various hooks and what looked like a tree stand attached to a crooked post. A pickup even older than Daryl's was in the driveway, hood open as if someone had been tinkering around but no one was in sight.

"God damn it!" Daryl snarled, thumping an angry fist against the steering wheel.

"What is it?" Glenn asked, looking around.

"Jesus Christ," Daryl cursed again, unhooking his seatbelt, "Stay here, kid. I mean it.

Daryl exited the truck without an explanation, slamming the door. Glenn called after him but Daryl didn't turn and even though Glenn was tempted to follow he decided it best to stay put. Daryl disappeared into the house and Glenn waited anxiously, straining his ears for any unusual sounds. He sat there for so long he lost track of time, trying to play Words With Friends but his phone kept losing signal.

A sudden crash had Glenn's head snapping up in alarm, hands immediately going to his seatbelt. Another crash sounded, and Glenn heard someone shouting, followed by glass shattering. An older man with thin, gray hair and a mix of Merle and Daryl's features clumsily walked down the front steps, a bottle of brown liquor in his hand.

"You worthless piece of shit!" He yelled, grabbing a hammer that was resting on the workbench.

Daryl came out of the house then, blood running down his face from what looked like a deep gash above his left eyebrow. He looked angry, slinging a black duffle bag over his shoulder.

"I ain't the piece of shit, old man!" Daryl countered, wiping blood from his eye.

"Yer just like yer mama," The man -who could only be Daryl's father- bellowed, "Useless, good-fer-nothin' white trash!"

Before Glenn could process what was happening, Daryl's dad was raising his arm to chuck the hammer at Daryl's head. Glenn yelled, watching as the tool missed its mark and slammed into Daryl's right shoulder instead, sending him stumbling back into the doorframe. Glenn moved before he could stop himself, exiting the truck to run to Daryl's aid.

"I told you to stay in the truck!" Daryl roared, stopping Glenn in his tracks.

"What's this gook doin' on my property?" Daryl's dad slurred.

"This ain't yer house no more," Daryl said, rotating his shoulder with a wince.

"Get this chink-eyed mother fucker outta my sight!"

Glenn took a few steps back when the old man grabbed another, larger hammer. His arm was drawing back when Daryl surged forward, knocking both the bottle and the hammer from his father's grasp, sending them both crashing into the table; the posts wobbled but it held up against their weight. In a surprising display of strength, the man shoved Daryl off of him, hands going to unbuckle his belt. It took a moment for everything to click into place but when he saw Daryl stiffen and stop moving altogether, Glenn realized what Daryl's father was planning on doing with the belt.

Cautiously, Glenn moved to Daryl's side, grasping his elbow firmly but gently. He pulled, pretending not to notice when Daryl flinched, and was grateful when Daryl moved with him. The old man started laughing when Daryl turned his back to him.

"Run away like the bitch that you are!" He yelled after them.

Daryl didn't respond.

"Keep walkin', boy! You were never like Merle, always pussy-footin' 'round like yer somethin' special. But you ain't, Daryl, yer nothin', an' yer no son o' mine."

He was still shouting when they climbed back into the truck.

Daryl tossed the duffle bag into the backseat before slamming the truck into drive, peeling out of the driveway in a cloud of dust.

Daryl didn't say a word until they were back on the highway.

"I told you to stay in the car." Daryl's voice was low and too calm.

Glenn wished he would yell.

"Dude, he threw a hammer at you!" Glenn tried to reason.

"He woulda done a lot worse to you."

"Why? Because I'm Asian?"

"Yer damn right, that's why!" Daryl's anger was slowly returning. "Next time I tell you to stay put, for fucks sake, stay put."

Daryl reached across Glenn to pop open the glove compartment, pulling out a crumpled pack of Camels and an old Zippo that looked well-used and well-loved.

"I didn't know you smoked?" Glenn stupidly commented, unsure what else to say.

"I don' unless idiots like you stress me out."

He stuffed a cigarette into his mouth, flicking open the Zippo and lighting it one-handed against his thigh. Daryl breathed deeply, exhaling a moment later through his nose. He seemed to calm some, body sagging against his seat.

"I'm gonna kill Merle when we get him. That bastard knew our old man was there and didn' tell me."

Glenn didn't know what to say so he stayed silent.

Glenn was a little gob smacked when he saw the stacks of cash Daryl took out of the duffle bag, counting out the exact amount they needed to get Merle. He pocketed a few bills and handed some to Glenn, "Fer all that bullshit," Daryl said, smirking. Glenn took the cash disbelievingly, happy but worried what Merle might do if he found out. They were parked in front of the county Sheriff's department a few counties over and Glenn wondered exactly how Merle had wound up there. Daryl heaved a great sigh, eyeing the building with distain.

"Let's get this over with." He said, getting out of the truck.

TBC...

A/N: I forgot to mention that I've now reached over 100 reviews! Just wow. Thank you all SO SO much. I've never gotten that many reviews for a story before, so I'm over the moon. I PROMISE to not leave you guys hanging so long next time. Please review and let me know what you think. Suggestions, requests, and constructive criticism are all welcome.