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It was the smell wafting into her tent that woke Lori up, zero-to-sixty in a heart-beat. Lori frowned, sitting up and musing her hair with one hand while using the other to keep herself propped up while she tried to place the scent. It wasn't… it wasn't bad; wasn't rotting flesh or the smell of body odor that pretty much prevailed around camp… It was definitely food or cooking of some sort, but she just couldn't place the thrice damned smell.
Sighing in exasperation, Lori sat up fully and rubbed both eyes with her hands, looking out the open tent flap (Rick was no where to be seen, so he'd probably got up earlier and left the tent unzipped so she and Carl would catch a breeze). Who was even up cooking, she wondered, It's barely even light outside…
"Daryl!"
In the next moment Lori was up and rushing to the tent entrance, gripping the aluminum bat they kept there. Glenn was yelling - quietly, but still yelling, and he never yelled and, oh god, where was Rick let alone Shane? Carl wasn't even up yet and Glenn was - cradling a huge mug?
"Daryl!"
Lori was staring at Glenn in blank incomprehension, but she still heard the rucks that could only be Daryl busting through the underbrush from where he'd set his tent apart from everyone else last night. Why he didn't want to be near the fire was beyond Lori, but, whatever. When the redneck eventually came into Lori's line of sight, she could tell he was expecting the same thing she had been: a zombie attack. Daryl had apparently just jumped straight out of bed like Lori too, because his shoes were obviously shoved on, laces untied, and he had a definite case of bed head.
As Daryl busted about camp, swirling both his head and bow in all directions, looking for walkers, Lori refocused on Glenn, brows furrowed and frowning once again. They weren't in any danger, so what the fuc-
"Mother-fucking Christ on a stick, Asia! There ain't no walkers, so you've better have a pretty damn solid good reason for - "
"Here," Glenn interrupted, shoving the mug out to Daryl and looking a mite bit too smug for someone so close to a justifiably irritated Dixon with a weapon, in Lori's opinion. Lori would've had half a mind to harm their resident Asian herself, madd foraging skills be damned, had she not realized in that moment what the smell that'd awoken her was. Sitting back on her haunches from her at-the-ready crouch, Lori blinked once in astonishment, just as Daryl was, as she put two and two together to realize Glenn had made and was presenting Daryl with - coffee.
"Go on," Glenn repeated, making a little motion with the mug and turning it handle-out to Daryl, "take it; I made it for you."
Lori watched the situation between the two closely, still a little dumbfounded. She could see Glenn getting more and more anxious as Daryl continued to just stand arm-lengths away from him, staring at him levelly. If Daryl kept this up, Lori thought, wiping her nose with her arm, Glenn would start to babble like he did when he got nervou -
"Found a French Press the other day when I had to hide in a Starbucks and got some coffee - Folgers - at the store later, because, dude, Starbucks' coffee blows. One of my friends worked there and told me they double roast their beans, man, and it just tastes burnt and like gym socks. Not that I'd know what gym socks taste like! It's just - "
Lori blinked and the next thing she knew, Daryl had dropped his bow (which was shocking enough; she'd never seen him treat the thing so irreverently) and pinned Glenn at the waist to the tree behind him, coffee somehow still intact and held to the side in Glenn's hand.
"You - " Daryl's voice came out in a deep burr, and if that wasn't surprisingly hot enough for Lori's jaw to drop, then the next moment when Daryl rolled his hips into Glenn's and drug his hands up the kid's body to fist into his hair before tilting his head and giving Glenn the dirtiest kiss she'd seen outside of a porn was. Lori, situated as she was so she got the full side view of the going-ons, could see Daryl's jaw working and he - was really putting some effort into that kiss, Lori thought. She could feel her face starting to heat up because, oh lord that was definitely tongue, and Lori's pretty sure Glenn just whimpered as Daryl used the grip on his hair to find a better angle, but it could have been her.
It was all over in a moment and the next thing Lori knew Daryl was sitting on one of the collapsible chairs around the fire with the mug, eyes closed and just inhaling the smell of the coffee held up to his chin like it was a religious experience. Glenn was still leaning against the tree, panting like he'd run a mile and staring nonplused at the other man. Lori rather knew how he felt, really, because, well.
As Daryl finally lifted the mug to take the first sip of his coffee, Glenn huffed out a laugh, breaking out of his stare to close his eyes and tilt his head back against the tree. As Lori turned to refocus her attention to Daryl and his coffee, she saw the smug grin return to Glenn's face and, really, that boy's playing with fire, but Lori can't help but wonder if there might be any more coffee left in that French Press.