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sarifinasnightmare · 5 months

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Space: Hell No!!

Rating: For Everyone

Pairing: Sarah X Bucky

Summary: Sarah is not taking to space very well.

Prompt: Space AU

Author's Note: It's not a full on AU, but I just got it in my head after seeing The Marvels that not everyone would take to space well.

____________________________

Nope, nope, hell no! Sarah whimpered mentally as she refused to look out of the vast windows of the SABER space station. She had been on an outing with her brother and Bucky when a bad guy decided to do some bad guy things. In the midst of the chaos of the fight all three were saved by Nick Fury and swept up to his space station.

Sam and Bucky, still high from the battle, were completely unfazed at suddenly being above the Earth, but Sarah? She was trying not to pass out, but this was all too much! All she had to do was peek out the window, see the dizzying heights and her head started spinning.

Surprisingly, they had paper bags in outer space and the people working there were very sweet as they coached her how to breathe again.

Eventually, whatever meeting Fury had pulled her guys off to had adjourned and they went to the hospital bay where she was sitting in a chair sipping some cold water with the windows covered. Still, the knowledge that only a thin sheet of plexi…plasma…glass…whatever, stood between her and the oblivion of space made her shudder.

“Hey, you feeling better?” Bucky asked, squatting down before her, his face soft with concern.

Sarah, still looking a touch pale, nodded faintly. “It’s official. I’m not meant for space. Give me gravity and good hard ground to plant my feet on.”

“You’re being a baby. It’s no different than being on the boat.” Sam teased. “We’re perfectly safe in here.” To demonstrate, he gives a good, hard jump, which caused his sister to gasp and put a hand to her chest.

“Sam, I swear to God I’m about to make myself an only child in a minute!”

“That would require you to get out of the chair, which I seriously doubt you can.” He grinned devilishly.

“Bucky you’d kill him for me?” She pleaded gently.

He kissed her cheek. “Absolutely.”

“Spoil sport.”

She glared at him.

“Look you’re going to have to get over your fear pronto, because we will have to get off this station soon.” Sam announced.

Sarah’s face went pale again. “How soon??”

He looked at his watch. “Two hours?”

Bucky jumped when Sarah suddenly slumped back. “Jesus, Sam, break it to her gently!!!” He immediately picked her up and laid her prone form on the nearby bed before checking her pulse.

“How exactly am I supposed to break going back down the same way we came up? It’s not like we can beam down!”

Once he made sure she was breathing, Bucky kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry you’re stressing, babydoll.”

Sam snapped his fingers. “Maybe we should take this opportunity to carry her out now.”

Bucky glared at him. “I did promise to kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Sarah woke a few moments later and hid her face in shame. “I usually am stronger than this.”

“No one’s perfect.” Bucky assured her. “Even someone as beautiful as you, babydoll and I am sorry to tell you this but Sam is right. We’re getting off of here shortly.”

She sighed. “Do they have a relaxer here? Something to calm me down?”

“I’ll ask.”

Eventually, after he had inquired, Nick Fury came in and offered her a very small cup of warm, purple liquid that made Sarah look at it suspiciously. “This is medicine?”

“Sergeant Barnes asked to give you something that will relax you. Back in Asgard they raised these plants which made a beverage that helped people in times of great anxiety.”

“Looks like Robitussin.”

“It’s tea.”

“Why is it so small?”

“Because it’s from Asgard which means it’s very potent. Any more than that and you’ll think you’re talking to our ancestors about the Emancipation Proclamation.”

She looked worriedly over at Sam who shrugged. “It’s either that or go back down to Earth stone cold sober.”

Oh, the horror. “Bottoms up.”

_______________________----

Sarah felt grand.

All anxiety had left her, and she suddenly wanted to dance with her handsome, sexy boyfriend. Bucky promised they’d go out just as soon as they got back down home. He coaxed her to her seat, but she wanted to snuggle with him and wouldn’t stop whining about it, so with a little finagling they were seated together as they started to make their descent.

“I’m really hungry.” She complained as she snuggled against Bucky comfortably.

“We’ll eat something once we get down, I promise.” Sam assured her, amused by how loopy his sister was.

Her hooded eyes gazed up at Bucky admiringly. “You’re so cute, you know that baby? I thought you were the cutest white boy I’d ever seen.”

He grinned, amused by her casual honesty. “Thanks, babydoll.”

“Trina says that the Thor guy is cuter, but I was like, nu-uh, my man’s got a nicer butt than him…and the sexiest set of lips too.” She pursed up her lips demanding kisses and he gladly obliged her.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m about to lose my appetite.”

She frowned. “Why are you listening? Go somewhere else. Barrel roll yourself or something.”

“I wish I could but in case you had forgotten we’re on a spaceship heading back down to earth!”

Glancing outside the window, her eyes widen. “Bucky is it safe in here?”

He squeezed his arms around her. “Absolutely. I got you in my arms, see? You’re safe with me.”

She became quiet for a moment, resting her face against his chest. “The Earth is so blue.”

Bucky glanced out, admiring the view now that he knew she wasn’t going to panic. “It is. Very beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it? Is that why you did so much to save it?”

The question made him pause and think for a moment. “Maybe…I became a soldier because I wanted to help others. Now, it’s also because I want to protect the ones I love.”

“Like me?” she asked innocently.

“Yes, like you.” He agreed, stroking her back as she melted against him. “You’re one of the things that make the planet so damn beautiful. You make it home for me.” He lowered his voice as he murmured against her forehead. “I love you so much, Sarah.”

She sighed contently, snoozing softly in his arms.

“Hey.”

Bucky glanced over at Sam.

“You meant that? About my sister?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.” he said firmly.

He smiled a little. “That’s nice to hear….and a little gross.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

The End

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 2 years

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Like a traditional Sunday dinner

When - right after There’s also a bar. Still at the CDC, and thank you Dr. Jenner for meal planning with that spaghetti. In the show, we’re still in the episode TS-19. Masterlist if you would like to read more of the Slowpoke Series.

Relationships - you and the gang! And our redneck is making friends!

Genre - everyone is relaxing for this one. Shane, Andrea, and Dr. Jenner are sort of bummed, but can you blame them?

Pronouns - ain’t got none. But keep in mind that Glenn does make a gag about an...action associated with a particular gender in terms of “you.” Y’all, it’s his first time getting drunk, he’s a dope, and he may or may not have a slight crush on you at the moment, so he would’ve blurted it out regardless. The buttface.

TWs - intoxication, mention of suicide, some adult language, and that inappropriate joke made by the one and only Glenn Jeremiah Rhee, much to his own horror. It is concluded that he owes more than a quarter for it.

Word count - I had fun. And we’ve got pictures!

“Whoa, it’s – it’s hot!” he exclaims after you’ve both tried a taste.

“Like fiery cough medicine,” you offer, uncertain of how else to describe it. Except it’s having the opposite effect of cough medicine in that it’s making you cough because it’s got that spicy thing going on. And it tastes sort of medicinal, to be frank. Not necessarily your favorite, but it’s not bad, it’s just...a little yucky.

If Glenn’s face is relaying any truth, he doesn’t prefer the taste, either. “Yeah, there’s like a fruit-ish flavor or something,” Glenn muses, taking another sip. “Cherry?”

“Daryl, is this Robitussin or Dimetapp?” you throw out. Glenn cracks up at that and adds “I dig the grape one if you have it, man.”

“You two are babies,” Daryl huffs back, tone as abrasive as ever even though he’s visually having fun. With a smirk, he takes a big swig of the Southern Comfort (apologies, that’s “SoCo”) straight from the bottle. He's trying to make friends, isn’t he?

“Show off,” you snark.

“Lightweight,” he dishes right back, making you snort.

Ooh, speaking of dishes – the spaghetti! Holy Moses but it’s been a while since any of y’all had pasta! It tastes fantastic even without any parmesan or mozzarella. All things considered, it is a very fancy meal. Dale was pouring wine for all the adults, after all.

Fancy, carefree, and easy enough to forget all about that big countdown (countdown to what?) on the wall in the big room and all the bad things that had happened and were happening outside, at least for a while. It’s like a traditional Sunday dinner when the whole family gets together, and that warms you.

Glenn elbows you in the ribs. “Don’t forget you owe me five bucks.”

“And I owe the kids 25¢ each for cussin’, so that’s me out $5.50. Oh wait, guess what?” You turn to him. “I happened to have recently won $10 from Mr. SoCo-straight-from-the-bottle!”

“What for?”

“Bettin’ him we’d be having spaghetti for supper. Also I might could’ve said there would be Southern Comfort here, too!”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. All we need are the videogames and it’d be three for three.” Southern Comfort, a Wii, and a big bowl of spaghetti, right?

Shaking his head, Daryl mutters “Still can’t believe that shi- stuff.”

Sophia eyes Daryl but says nothing. You catch her glance and wink.

“Good save, man,” Glenn commends him.

“Hey, want another sip?” Daryl asks, offering the bottle. See, he is making friends! Good for him.

“Yup!” And with that, Glenn accepts the bottle and tips it back. Then makes a face because it’s truly got a kick to it. That amuses Daryl and T-Dog, at any rate. You’re happy to see that Andrea is smiling, too, even if it’s a weak one.

“Carl mentioned y’all had a rule around camp about using poor language around the kids,” Rick says, mouth full of pasta and Lori’s hand in his. Smiling, he asks “That was your doin’, right T-Dog?”

“Figured it was a fun little way to remind people to remember to treat each other better,” he shrugs back, shy grin lighting up his face. Big softie.

“Jim and I had a heck of a time keeping our mouths clean the third time the RV’s hose went south,” Dale sighs. His smile was both happy and sad at the memory as he pours more wine into Jacqui’s glass.

Then Jacqui’s gentle laugh rings out as she recalls “Jim especially had quite the time keeping his mouth clean during that one, let me tell you.”

Nodding, Dale chuckles “But the lesson in self-awareness and self-control was worth every quarter saved.”

“I don’t remember you ever saying one, Mr. Horvath,” Sophia says, voice quiet and sweet.

“We’re very grateful for it, too,” Carol thanks him, and then appears to slide one hand into Jacqui’s and her other onto her daughter’s back where she lightly began to rub. Yeah, any good male influence on Sophia was like gold. God knows that poor little girl had a pretty shitty go of it in terms of that. Fucking Ed.

Oops, you’re drifting back down. Time to raise your spirits back up!

You point your finger at Rick. “So the question I got is if Carl told you about that little rule because he might could’ve caught you with a naughty word on your lips?”

Lori takes a big sip of her wine right at that moment as Rick cracks up and raises his hands in surrender. “I’ll take a page from you and Shane and admit he ‘might could’ve.’”

Glenn giggles at that and takes a gulp (yes, a gulp) of his wine. Oh, okay – then another gulp. Oh my.

Shane looks at Carl and squints. “So, how much he have to hand over for his little slip-up, punk?”

“Fifty cents.”

“Oh-ho, Rick said a twofer!” Glenn teases, voice a touch louder than usual.

“I’m curious. What is the plan for all of those quarters?” Lori wonders.

Almost at the same time, the kids reply “Gumballs” and “Candy.”

“Hey now,” you chide. “And temporary tattoos.”

“Anythin’ that comes in those little hand-crank dispensers at the grocery store,” T-Dog explains.

“And those little toy things that come in those plastic balls,” Glenn adds. “They have those dispensers, too! I saw them at a Publix and a Kroger!”

“Oo, I always liked the ’lil parachute guy,” you exclaim in recognition. You’d forgotten all about those little things.

“Right?!” he announces back with a little too much enthusiasm. “I always loved the wall-sticky guy!” Okay, heck. Glenn wasn’t joking when he said that he didn’t drink much. He’s already getting flushed.

“That liquor hittin’ you fast there, bud?” T-Dog murmurs to him, brows drawn in amusement. “Go on, get some more food in your stomach.”

“The spaghetti goes really good with wine, T-Dog.”

“Mmhm.” T-Dog shares a look with Andrea and takes another bite of his pasta as if in demonstration of what Glenn should be doing.

Daryl even cuts in “Slow down, kid, y’all ain’t even tried the SoCo with the root beer yet.”

Taking your cue and cracking open the can (ahh, don’t you just love that satisfying snap and hiss that a soda can makes?), you ask Daryl “So, what should we name it?”

“We’re namin’ the drink?”

“Yes.”

A pause. “I dunno.”

“Wanna call it the...” Shoot, now you’re drawing a blank. “The CDC? Or The Dr. Jenner.” You make a little salute to the doc in the corner where he was sitting very quietly. He must be feeling very out of sorts, suddenly having so much company after being completely alone for a couple of months.

Daryl hums as he sets up the little paper cups from the water cooler in a row. “Better than my idea.”

“Which was?”

“The Upchuck.”

You groan “Mangy hick,” before you realize that you’ve just said it out loud and in front of him and to him.

Luckily, Daryl’s unphased, he just raises his brows and snorts. “Never been called ‘mangy’ before.”

“S-sorry.”

“What? It ain’t nothing.”

“But I’m also sorry about the thing in the car,” you hint.

“What thing?”

You clear your throat and clarify “When we almost hit the fox,” then continue to pour a little bit of the root beer into the paper cups while Daryl mixes in the Southern Comfort. When we had that minor screaming match in the car, slammed on the brakes, and then pretended that we’d stopped the car because we almost hit something is what you’re getting at.

He hands you your drink. “Whatever.”

Has this man never been taught the danged conventions of politeness, or did he simply not care? “Still, I apologize,” you insist, reminding yourself that he’s a work-in-progress just like everybody else.

And he sounds only sort of awkward when he shrugs and replies “Me too, I guess.”

“You guess?”

Now, Shane is eyeing you both. “Just what are you two chattin’ on about?”

“Glenn, here’s yours,” you quickly say, handing your friend his paper cup before you reply to your brother casually that “Daryl and me shared some heated words in the car.” And hey, it’s the truth.

Taking a sip of his own drink, he states “That so?”

“How many quarters worth?” Carl whispers across the table to you.

“Rules say we only pay up if the babies hear us, you little miser.”

But he just stares back at you with a mischievous look on his face.

“Okay fine,” you relent. “I used...probably about...seventy-five... no, a dollar’s worth.” With a sigh, you press “Using fewer words like that is somethin’ I’m working on. It ain’t the best thing to go on doing.”

“I know,” he smiles back.

“That’s my boy,” Lori murmurs quietly to him, a wry smile on her face.

Then, overtaking all of the other voices at the table comes Glenn’s excited declaration that “This is really good, Daryl! Who else wants to try?”

“Hey, we were supposed to take the first sip together, buttface!” you complain.

“It’s okay, I still got some in here! Ready Y/N? Go!” And – okay, looky there. He’s already finished his cup.

“...Cheers,” you monotone, then lift the cup to your lips and taste it.

Mm, it wasn’t so bad. The alcohol cut through the heavy sweetness of the root beer.

“Not bad, right?”

“Ain’t bad at all, Daryl. Cheers, man!”

“Bottoms up.” And with that, he also finishes his little cup.

Shane seemed to like his well enough, T-Dog tried a sip of yours and nodded approvingly before nestling back in with his wine, and Jacqui had her own purely for the root beer (“That’s my favorite coke, too, Daryl! Have you ever mixed it with sarsparilla cola? It is divine, sugar.”), and Daryl had Dr. Jenner try some as well. Reserved, he commented “Never thought I’d see the day when the CDC had a drink named for it.”

Small as it was, you choose to nurse yours slowly as dinner goes on.

Until little Carl calls over to ask “May I try it?”

Carl wants a taste? You reckon that might be okay. Looking over at Lori, she bites her lip but then agrees: “A sip is fine.”

“I wasn’t joking when I said it tastes like Dimetapp, kiddo,” you caution him.

Dale, ever the academic, explains “Most liquid medications since their inception have had considerable amounts of alcohol in them.”

“But it’s got the root beer in it, so it’s not gross now, right?”

“At your risk, punk,” you tell the boy. And with that, you hand over your paper cup.

Carl, bless him, tries the smallest sip possible, makes a face (cue everyone to start laughing, even Andrea, thank goodness), then holds it out to Sophia next, who shakes her head (good girl!) before he offers it to his mama.

“Mm, like rum and coke,” Lori says. “I like this a bit better, to be honest. Y/N, Daryl, well done. What was it you said you named this, honey?”

“The CDC.”

“That fits.”

Again, Dale starts to top off the wine glasses for everyone who wants more. Not for Glenn, though. Glenn is now sitting atop the bar with his own bottle, Lord above. And Shane keeps taking really big gulps from his own glass, to your alarm.

He’s not the most straight-laced of people, granted, but alcohol he’s grown very careful with. So what is he doing now? He should want to be on his guard here, you’d think. Something is definitely weighing heavily on him and the change in him is troubling you.

You’ll try to talk to him later.

“Can I try some of the wine, too?” Carl wonders next, which pops your worry bubble and makes everyone laugh more.

“Curious tonight, aren’t we?” Lori protests, even while giggling.

“Not even a small glass?” Dale chuckles.

“Uh-oh, I’d best keep my eye on you, mister,” she laughs back. Everyone is cracking up and smiling and holy Moses, it feels great.

“Fine,” Dale cedes, still grinning widely. “Though you know,” he slyly mentions as he pours a little more into her glass, “In Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France!”

Rick shakes his head as he happily finishes his supper, and Lori good-naturedly but firmly covers over her son’s cup and offers that “Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then.”

“What’s it gonna hurt? Come on,” Rick then says. And with such a mischievous expression! Anyone could see where Carl got his from. “Come on,” he teases his wife.

Lori is desperately trying not to grin back at her husband as they enter into somewhat of a staring contest. She breaks first, however, and takes her hand off Carl’s cup with a shrug, after which everyone cheers.

Dale pours a decent amount of wine into Carl’s empty cup, and you all wait in anticipation for the kid’s reaction.

“Five bucks he chugs it!” Glenn whispers, his voice now slurring.

“One sip and he’s out,” you counter softly. Easiest five bucks you’ll ever make and it'll mean you won't owe him for the bet you’d lost about who/what “Vi” was.

And Carl’s reaction is perfect! After one sip, his face scrunches up and he (pun intended) whines “Ew!”

After that everyone is rolling, Lori contentedly mumbles “That’s my boy,” as she pours the rest into her glass, and Carl cannot stop exclaiming how nasty he thought the stuff was.

You aren’t sure why Shane still looks so off and beaten down, but you can tell that he’s making an effort to sound upbeat when he suggests “Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud.”

Right when you’re about to lean over and quietly ask if your brother was okay, Daryl points to Glenn, bottle of Southern Comfort in hand. Someone’s tipsy. “Not you, Glenn,” he drawls.

Equally tipsy (maybe more, actually) and more so confused, Glenn just smiles awkwardly from the counter. “What?”

“Keep drinkin’, little man – I wanna see how red your face can get!”

Okay, and there was the hick again. Did he have to go and say that? Maybe he didn’t mean it in a malicious way, you suppose, but it was still casually racist or whatever. Work-in-progress, you remind yourself.

Glenn is still smiling, but he’s got that “ughh” look on his face. He also blushes, which makes his cheeks grow even more red.

“Daryl,” you warn, but teasingly enough. “I’ll fight you in the parkin’ lot.”

Eventually, the laughter dies down and a quiet finally settles at the table. Bellies are full, supper is finished, and most everyone appears relaxed.

The doctor has been very quiet this whole evening, though. You catch Rick frowning at him before he taps his glass with his fork, stands up, and with his wine glass raised, says “It seems to me we haven’t thanked our host properly.”

Nodding in agreement, T-Dog graciously declares “He is more than just our host,” as he holds up his own glass.

“Hear hear!”

“Booyah!” Daryl cheers.

“Booyah!” echoes throughout the room.

“Heck yeah!”

“Yay!”

“Here’s to you, doc!”

“To Dr. Jenner!”

“Whoo!”

“Thank you, doctor!”

Once the cheers are over, your brother decides to out with “So when are you gonna tell us what happened here, doc?”

The quiet that embraces the room isn’t comfortable anymore.

“All the – the other doctors, that were supposed to be figurin’ out what happened. Where are they?”

“Let’s ask about this later,” you whisper to him.

Rick tries to hush him, too. “We’re celebratin’, Shane. We don’t need to do this now.”

But Shane just holds up his hand. “Whoa, wait a second. This is why we’re here, right?” He’s peering over at Rick but doesn’t look remotely friendly. He is in some damned mood, what is going on with him? “This was your move. Supposed to find all the answers. Instead, we –” he scoffs. “We found him. Found one man. Why?”

Now he has something of a smile on his face, but it’s bitter and exhausted. And you find yourself agreeing that you want answers, too, and fast. But maybe not in front of the kids.

“Doc, I’m sorry, we’re all a little, um,” dang your pulse has quickened, “We’re out of it. You’re our host, you saved us; answerin’ is on your terms,” you assure him. Shane swallows but inclines his head at you in silent surrender.

But the doctor does choose to answer. “Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left. Went off to be with their families. And when things got worse,” he goes on, avoiding eye contact with everyone but Shane. “When the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted.”

Wait, so out of everyone who’d been here, this doctor is the only one left? Seems at least a little doubtful.

“Every last one?” your brother challenges, staring him dead in the eyes.

“No.” His response is sharp. “Many couldn’t face walking out the door. They...”

Oh no. You know what he’s about to say. Please not in front of the kids. From the corner of your eye, you see Carol shake her head subtly at the doctor.

“Opted out,” he finally says. And his voice is very quiet when he explains “There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time.”

Lori and Carol have their arms around their children. Jacqui has a peculiar look on her face, but Andrea finally seems to wake up. “You didn’t leave,” she states. “Why?”

His shoulders fall and he heaves a sigh. “I just kept working. Hoping...to do some good.”

After that, no one says anything. This also tends to happen at Sunday dinners, too, right? The night wasn’t ruined or nothing...

Dale and you try to smile at Dr. Jenner. A few of you become overly fascinated with your wine glasses. And Shane is just staring into space. Carl and Sophia enter into a silent kicking contest with each other from their chairs.

And then Glenn hops off the bar and trudges back to his chair while staring (glaring?) at your brother. And God forgive you for how hard you crack up when he deadpans “Dude. You are such a buzzkill, man.”

To your relief, Daryl is right there laughing with you, and soon everyone else starts to relax again, too. T-Dog cracks up and slaps his knee, and Shane nudges you in the shoulder as he starts to somewhat smile despite himself.

“Apologies, y’all,” he mumbles. Avoiding all eye contact, he gets up, grabs another bottle of wine from the shelf, uncorks it, and refills Dr. Jenner’s glass first.

After this, the tension eases completely. Conversation starts to flow again, wine glasses are drained, the last morsels of spaghetti are eaten, and you all feel at peace once more as you all begin to clean up the dishes.

You aren’t sure why you start to feel sad all of the sudden. Possibly because you’d noticed Dale winding his watch, so started to think about everything that had happened. That had been what you were all talking about during the fish fry at the quarry. Your last night all together. And now everything was changed. Amy isn’t here anymore. Jim was left on the roadside. Mr. Morales and Miranda and the kids are God-knows-where. Hopefully they’d reached their family in Birmingham safely already. It was about 40 or so miles from where the quarry camp had been, so –

“– Hey, why so glum?”

You snap out of it. “I ain’t glum, Glenn – oh that’s hard to say. Glum Glenn, glum Glenn, glun Glenn – dang it, messed it up. Your turn.”

“Glum Glemm – shoot I mixed it up already!”

“Ha-ha!”

“Just messed up his own name!” Daryl snickers. “Must be good and wasted, ain’t ya buddy?”

“I dunno, I feel all floaty.”

“He’s wasted!” Daryl cackles (yes, cackles) before downing another gulp straight from the SoCo bottle. Glenn follows suit with his wine bottle. Sure, he’s your best friend at this point, but bless his heart what an idiot. He’s already so sloshed!

“You boys are gonna feel that in the morning,” Carol reminds them.

“Hell yes, we are,” Daryl cackles again. Mangy hick. “Oh hey, I owe you ten bucks, Y/N.”

“Sure do.” Now, why is he reaching into his shoe? Oh, he kept cash in there. A worn, faded, floppy twenty. “Never pegged you for a money-in-the-shoe type.”

Glenn suddenly snarfs a little bit and says something, but you don’t catch it fully. And after a pause, Daryl’s eyes seem to snap in recognition for whatever it was and next he’s snickering like a naughty schoolboy.

A few of the other adults are cracking up, along with a few exasperated groans. Carol and Jacqui are already engaging the kids with some kind of discussion to divert their attention away from whatever the joke was.

Shane looks...let’s call it annoyed. Dale looks plain old confused. And so are you. Whatever is going on, it’s flown right over your head.

“It appears we’ve missed something,” Dale calls over to you.

“That’s more than a quarter out of you for that one,” Daryl tells Glenn in between belly laughs. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for havin’ that dirty a mind, Glenny-boy!”

And as Glenn covers his face, as T-Dog groans very loudly and mumbles “Y’all need Jesus,” and as Daryl says “I actually agree with that dude,” it hits you.

“Shane. What exactly did Glenn say that kicked off all this?”

He opens his mouth, but hesitates.

“Ignore them,” Rick suggests, to which Lori adds “They’re drunk and acting like teenagers.”

Then your brother runs his tongue over his teeth, a sure sign that he’s in angry mode. “Said he hoped you never ‘peg’ at all.”

Oh damn, son! “Glenn Jeremiah Rhee!” you yelp out.

“Someone will have to explain what that is to me,” you hear Dale murmur. “A sexual act, I assume?”

“Huh? That isn’t my middle name. I don’t have one,” Glenn responds to you, still giggling but looking alarmed at the realization of the joke he’d told.

“Daryl’s right about the quarter! You owe – heck, you owe five bucks to each of the kids for that one, nasty boy!” Damn it, you’re trying not to smile, but you’re failing at it. You are mad, but also OH MY GOSH, he’d made a joke like that? Glenn? “And an apology, rude boy!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know where that came from!” he keeps giggling. “Ha, you and your brother look so mad! Oh no...”

“Brain-dead but at least his eyes work,” your brother grumbles.

“Hold up, y’all. I got this,” Daryl announces to you, holding out the – oh right, the twenty that he’d pulled from wherever he kept it hidden in his shoe. You’d forgotten he was grabbing that.

“I owe this one ten bucks,” he says, gesturing to you. “And little drunk man over here needs to pay up, so, here we go.”

Nothing that Daryl had ever done before would have prepared you for what he does next.

“Hey little guys, y’all ain’t had school in a couple days. What’s half a twenty?”

“Ten,” the kids answer.

“Exactly.” And he rips the twenty in half.

Yep, that’s you, now buckled over with laughter and unable to stop.

“Ten for you,” Daryl croons (yes, croons), handing you one half of the twenty dollar bill, looking very satisfied with himself. “Still can’t believe you’re two outta three.”

To be specific, you’d said there would be Southern Comfort, a Wii, and (a big bowl of) spaghetti awaiting you all at the CDC. You still can’t believe it yourself.

“And you can split this one to pay the kids,” he finishes, handing Glenn the other half. “That’s about what cash is worth these days, right?”

Daryl Dixon made a funny and was remembering to try and stay respectful around the kiddos. He just made friends with everyone, didn’t he?

And you cannot believe that you’re thinking this but it’s probably just because he’d made you laugh so hard: he looks damned sexy with his cut-off sleeves.

WHOA there. Is it the little bit of wine and liquor you had that’s making you feel that? Damn. But you call to mind what Amy had said about such things and decide to regard your appreciation as purely “objective...”

...Still, you go and grab a water bottle from the shelf and chug like your life depends on it.

Dr. Jenner finally seems more at ease when he calls over everyone to “Follow me. You’ll need a place to sleep and rest up.”

“Yo, I’d give up my shoes for a proper shower,” Glenn mumbles to himself. “A long, hot shower.”

“You are pretty smelly,” you whisper back.

“Most of the facility is powered down, including housing, so you’ll all have to make do here,” Dr. Jenner calls back to you all as he leads the way. “The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like.” He turns around to face you all.

“There’s a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy,” he bends down and looks at the children directly. With good-humor, he instructs “Just don’t plug in the videogames, okay? Or anything that draws power,” the doctor firmly requests as he stands back up and continues down the hallway.

You rein in your squeal.

No. Way.

They actually have videogames? For real? Whipping your head around at Daryl in triumph, you hold up three fingers and silently mouth “Three for three, motha-fucka!”

“Same applies if you shower,” the doctors mentions as he turns the corner. “Go easy on the hot water.”

Glenn stops dead in his tracks. So does everyone else. He turns to you all, dopey grin lighting up his face. “Hot water?”

T-Dog’s grin matches his. “That’s what the man said.”

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