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Daryl took a long, slow and glorious inhale at the pulse point of Glenn's neck; Glenn had stopped mid-sentence when he'd felt arms wrap around his middle, and as the 5-o'clock shadow on Daryl's cheeks is rubbed into Glenn's own like a cat marking territory, Glenn is pretty sure he's just stopped functioning, period. Daryl presses a closed mouth kiss onto his ear and Glenn can feel - and hear - him humming contentedly; still, Glenn's not prepared for the "Hey babe" breathed out right into his ear.
The only conclusion Glenn comes to at the moment is that whatever they gave Daryl last night for the pain? Yeah, whatever that was, it had some after-effects because Daryl would never be doing this otherwise - they are, after all, not involved that way, are in the middle of camp, in the middle of Hershel’s lawn, and he can see the others staring - which is just rude, really.
But, ohmaigawd, Daryl's voice; he's so, so loopy right now, and his southern drawl is thick like molasses and Glenn feels like Daryl's voice is being poured all over him and it's wonderful. He's pretty sure he's gone blind it's so wonderful - or maybe he's just blocked out the rest of the world, either way.
"Oh my god - oh my god! Is he - is he smiling!?"
"What the - woman, that's all that has you alarmed about this situation?"
Glenn's attention snaps back quickly enough that he's glad Daryl is kind of holding him up and remembers he was mid-conversation with T-Dog and Andrea about a supply run later today.
"Um, Glenn," and that was Rick! Must… focus on Rick - god, he looked uneasy, standing there twisting his hat around in his hands, and, really, Glenn would normally care. "I didn't know you were - well, that you and Daryl were together, of a sort."
"Dude, is that what those rubbers were for, man?" T-Dog sounded and looked like he just realized his parents had sex, which was really… inappropriate as far as the situation went, Glenn thought in a panic. "I saw them earlier in your bag and thought - well, something else. Man, now my vicarious menial image is ruined, god."
"What?" Glenn squeaked, Daryl having wrapped his arms around Glenn's whole middle, hands on either of his hip bones, so as to pull the Asian flush against the front of his body. "We - we're not dating," Glenn said. Daryl pressed his mouth back to Glenn's ear, humming happily before licking around its shell; Glenn's pretty sure he went cross-eyed.
"Well," Shane snorted, coming up just behind Rick and crossing his arms defensively, keeping his stance wide and at the ready. "The man who's wrapped all about you and that you're not dating has a hand headed towards your zipper."
"Nah, wasn't," came Daryl's voice out from the crook of Glenn's neck before the latter could think of a response appropriate for public. Why wasn't he!? squeaked part of Glenn's traitorous mind, and he cut off a bout of hysterical laughter before it could escape.
"Then what are you doing, Dixon," Shane asked, "'cause it looks pretty gay from where I'm standing." Glenn was a little gob smacked: was this - even though it wasn't a 'this' his mind reminded him - going to be a problem?
"Now, Shane - "
"That was not," Daryl said, pressing a smile into Glenn's neck before moving to prop his chin on the smaller man's shoulder, "what Merle would have called this at all. You gotta do better 'n that if you're being confrontational." Daryl still had that gravely, slow as all getup southern drawl going from whatever high the medication had him tripping on, so the overall effect of his words - well, to Glenn it sounded like Daryl had already been on the receiving end of some really great sex and he didn't really want to think about how that translated to what Shane heard.
"Shane," Rick repeated again, putting his hat back on his head, "whatever's goin' on, lets leave it to Glenn, alright? He looks like he has it under control." Rick did that head nod of acknowledgement in Glenn's direction and, god, it's a wonder and a blessing Glenn respected the man enough not to point out that he was off his rocker if he thought whatever Glenn had was control.
"Yeah, man, I'll… I'll see you later, okay? You just… yeah, we can figure out the list later. Hell, Andrea and I can get it; come on, girl."
And there went T-Dog and Andrea, who was still looking at them with wide-eyes like this development was more surprising than, oh, reanimated corpses coming after them for their flesh. Whatever! Forget them! Think of what's happening now when you're alone with a doped up redneck! Hysterical mental voice, check. Glenn was drawn out of himself with a jump as his attachment buried his head back into the space between Glenn's neck and shoulder, laughing and muttering to himself. Glenn jumped again when Daryl seemed to focus, pressing the smiling line of his lips into Glenn's skin and resuming his humming as he began to move his hands against Glenn's pants, clearly seeking skin.
"Daryl! Daryl, what is it that you wanted to, um - what's going on?"
"Well," Daryl drawled out, "I wanna take a cat nap; the Hershel's got a nice little tree house spot in the sun a bit a-ways." Dixon started shuffling his feet, pushing Glenn forward and walking intertwined as they were towards what Glenn, in his disappointment, could only imagine was the tree house.
"And after that," Daryl continued, breathing into Glenn's jaw as he tightened his arms where they were around Glenn's middle, "I'm going to fuck you into the floorboards until you can't remember anyone's name but mine. Gonna make you cum so hard you feel it into next week an' make you smell enough like me not even a scent hound’s gonna tell the difference, alright?"
Glenn stumbled a little, immediately hard; Daryl held him tighter, whispering calming shushes into the space behind his ear, and Glenn just - he, well… All right.