Janine had been at the Sanctuary for a while now. She had left her former community and came here for the extra protection. The work for points was hard, but not as grueling as working outside in the garden or with the livestock. Some days it was worth it – like on the days where she got to see the Sanctuary's fearsome, but admittedly handsome, leader. Janine's job at the Sanctuary meant being a personal maid for the Saviors' rooms, which included the wives' parlor and Negan's own bedroom.
Most of the time, though, when she cleaned, the Saviors and Negan were gone. The majority of the time she couldn't avoid the wives, but some of them were nice. Frankie and Tanya were decidedly not.
Just today when Janine was returning their laundry to them – that Janine washed herself – both Frankie and Tanya threw a fit. "This is good lingerie, and you ruined it!" Tanya hissed, tossing the lacy panties at Janine's face.
Snatching them aside, Janine huffed, more than a little pissed. "Good lingerie is hand washed, Tanya. What the hell do you think I did? Throw this in the river? I hand washed it."
"If that's the case then why is there a tear?" Tanya was stamping her foot now, petulant as a child, accusingly pointing a finger at the rip where the delicate black lace was starting to come off.
Taking a deep breath, Janine tried to not let her temper get the better of her. The wives were always right – her new motto to get through the arguments. The mindset was a remnant from when she worked in the service industry during college. "Because," Janine tried to explain with what little patience she had left, "you gave them to me with a tear."
Tanya blushed at the underlying implication that was left unspoken between them. "Then why didn't you sew back?" She squeaked, deeply embarrassed.
"I don't have sewing supplies!" Janine threw up her hands. It's not like the Saviors would consider that important when they scavenged. "Even if I did, I've never sewn anything more than a button back on my jeans."
"Stop making excuses and fix it!" Tanya screeched like a harpy. "Those are Negan's favorite and he'll be pissed if you've ruined them!"
"But I didn't –!"
"Shut up!" Frankie cut in as she returned to the parlor. She had deemed her laundry good enough and returned them to her bedroom, but now she was back and ready to boss Janine around. "Where the hell is my shirt?"
"What shirt?" Janine sighed. Tanya was may be bad, but Frankie was infinitely worse. Tanya limited her cruelty to criticisms, but Frankie went out of her way to make lists of chores as if Janine was her personal slave. Honestly, Janine felt a bit like Cinderella that way. The only difference was that Janine was no beauty and she knew better than to hope for a Prince Charming to save her.
In a high-pitched sneer, Frankie parroted her mockingly, "What shirt?" Frankie scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "You know the one. It's grey and comfortable. I gave it to you yesterday to wash."
"You mean the one you use to color your hair?" Tanya asked, not unkindly.
Immediately, Frankie's ire was directed toward the rival wife as she whipped around to face the dark-haired woman. "NO! I do not color my hair, Tanya! I'm a natural red-head." Tossing her obviously dyed hair, Frankie harrumphed.
"Yeah," Janine couldn't help but mutter under her breath, "and I'm a fucking super-model."
Frankie's neck snapped around so fast at Janine's words that it almost looked like she got whiplash. Her face was twisted, spitting mad, but before she could open her mouth to shriek at Janine anymore, there the distinct knock of a baseball bat on the door as Negan returned with Michaela, a quiet wife and the only African-American one. Michaela was kind to Janine, but other than that didn't talk to her much. She preferred to keep to herself.
As soon as she saw Negan, Janine dropped to one knee and stared hard at the floor. "You're a fucking super-model, you say? I thought I was fucking every fucking super-model here." Negan drawled as he leisurely strolled toward her, his words making Frankie snicker. Janine, not really bothered by his comment, only knew Negan was approaching by the sounds of his heavy footfalls. She heard a smacking noise – probably Negan spanking Michaela's rear – and her suspicions were confirmed when she heard Negan murmur to the wife, "You can head on back to your bedroom now, Michaela. You deserve the rest after the fuck fest we just had." Dutifully, Michael left, and Janine heard her bedroom door close behind her with a soft click. That left just Janine, Frankie, Negan, and Tanya.
"Negan," Tanya simpered, "I'm so glad you're here."
"Thanks, Tanya, girl," Negan replied, "but I'm actually here looking for Amber. You know I don't pick favorites, Tanya. I was with you and Frankie yesterday. It's Amber's turn." Janine remained kneeling as she hadn't been told to stand yet and she hadn't been dismissed either. "So, where is she?"
"Um," Tanya stalled.
Not sounding amused, Negan asked again, "Tanya, where the fuck is Amber?"
"Uh," Tanya began to stutter, and to Janine it sounded like she was on the verge of tears.
"Oh, quit your fucking crying, Tanya. You're not in fucking trouble unless you're hiding shit from me." Negan sighed, and Tanya sniffled miserably in response.
"Well since Amber is missing her turn," Frankie finally spoke up, and from where she was kneeling with her head bowed Janine watched Frankie's stilettos cross in front of her to Negan's boots. "You can have me again, Negan. I know how much you like my massages."
Negan snorted, "Yeah, no matter how much you tell me, I don't think you were actually fucking licensed, Frank." Janine choked, holding back her laughter from listening to them. "Shit, I mean Frankie. I know how much you hate that nickname." Frankie sputtered, but Negan's voice fluidly cut over hers, "Besides, you told me you were gonna color your hair again before we next fucked. Your nasty ass roots are not what I wanna see when you're sucking me off and my men go through too much damn trouble looking for that hair dye if you're not gonna use it." Janine coughed out a laugh now before she immediately lapsed into silence once more.
It was too late, though. He definitely heard her – and so did Frankie and Tanya, doubtlessly. Negan's shadow fell across Janine, but still she kept her eyes downcast, now riveted on his boots. He had rather large feet. She imagined they were pretty, but she wouldn't know as she hadn't actually seen them. Secretly, she had a bit of a thing for feet. "Well, fuck, what's your name again?" Negan inquired, his rumbling voice breaking into Janine's daydreaming.
"She's no one," Frankie answered for her. She pushed Janine over until she fell backwards, flat on her ass, with an undignified grunt. "She was just here delivering the laundry, and she can't even do that right."
"Frankie!" Negan sharply admonished her. "Don't do that shit. I already told you that if you have a fucking problem you come to me and I'll handle it, damn it."
From where she was sprawled on the floor, Janine scrambled to a kneeling position again. Both Francine and Tanya have smacked her around before, but not much, usually when she got mouthy. That super-model comment probably would've earned a bitch slap if Negan hadn't interrupted.
"Hey," Negan said, voice low and soothing, "you alright there? Shit, I still don't remember your name."
"Janine," she told the floor in a whisper. Curiously, she wasn't afraid but she was very unsure. She hadn't interacted with Negan one on one before. Normally she would be among the crowd downstairs. This was new for her, and intimidating, but he wasn't being very scary at the moment.
"What's that? I didn't hear ya." Negan shifted until he was standing directly in front of her, and out of the corner of her eye Janine saw that both Frankie's and Tanya's pair of stilettos were close together in front of the couch. "You're gonna have to speak up. You know what? Just go ahead and look at me. I'm always a fucking sucker for a picture of a pretty lady on her knees just for me."
At his behest, Janine took a breath and slowly looked up at him. Despite him indirectly calling her pretty, in that moment Janine felt like she was anything but that. She didn't collect enough points to shower regularly, so today her black hair was oily and her brown face was probably shiny with oil, too. Luckily, she hadn't broken out with acne since the end of the world – probably due to the lack of greasy food in her diet – but she still was no beauty. Janine didn't have pretty freckles or clear, unblemished skin. She wouldn't be able to cram herself in a size 0 dress or fit her feet in a size 5 pair of heels either. No matter what, she just knew she would never be pretty, and before the end of the world that didn't matter to her. Janine had been a great student and she was just about to enter grad school when everything went to shit. Now her BA in History hardly mattered. What mattered now was staying alive, and that meant answering Negan and doing whatever he wanted.
"My name is…Negan?" Janine hesitantly began, unsure if this was a test. Her brown eyes flitted hungrily all over Negan's unshaven face, admiring his slicked back, black hair and his crinkled eyes framed by enviously long eyelashes and his bright, white smile and those damn charming dimples. He was just too damn pretty of a man. "Or Janine. I'm not sure how you want me to answer."
"Janine is fucking fine," Negan's eyes roved over Janine's face as well, taking in the full mouth and cute nose. His eyes slipped down lower on their own accord as he saw a teasing peep of cleavage. Janine was chesty, that was for sure. Out of all of his wives, only Michaela was more than a mouthful. The cogs in Negan's head were already turning. "So, you do the cleaning around here? You do a damn good job of that." He gestured around at the polished furniture and spotless floors.
"Thank you, sir," Janine responded, not sure of what else to say. She hadn't really noticed where he'd been looking, mostly being self-conscious of how filthy she was. "I clean the Saviors' rooms, too. And yours."
"That's fucking right!" Negan snapped his hand as the proverbial lightbulb went off above his head. "Damn, you do a fucking great job then. I should be fucking thanking you for doing that shit for me. So, I will. Fucking thank you, Janine."
"It's just my job, sir," Janine rushed to assure him. A little restless on her knees, she shifted, wondering what the point was to all of this.
"Do you like your job, Janine?" Negan leaned back on his heels, tapping the ever-present Lucille against the heel of his boot.
It was a loaded question, Janine was sure, similar to the kind her manager used to ask her at work. So, she gave him a somewhat similar answer. "I'm grateful to be here at the Sanctuary, sir."
"Hmm," Negan hummed, "But I bet the job still sucks ass, huh?" He didn't bother waiting for her answer. "You made a comment about being a fucking super-model, right?"
Bowing her head in shame, Janine honestly answered, "Yeah, but I wasn't being serious, sir, obviously. I was a student before all this."
"Shit, you weren't in high school, were you?"
"No, no!" Janine was a little surprised by the answer, wondering the relevancy of it. "I was in college. William and Mary. I'm probably 23 now."
"Damn, you were a smartass college girl then," Negan actually sounded impressed. "You're still a smartass now, aren't cha with the shit you give Frankie and Tanya here. What did you do to piss them off so much?"
"She deliberately sabotaged my panties!" Tanya jumped in before Janine could even open her mouth.
"And she lost my shirt," Frankie added.
Glancing back at the two wives sitting on the couch, Negan frowned at them. "Ex-fucking-cuse me, but I asked Janine here." Turning back to Janine, he gestured with Lucille over his shoulder at the wives before asking her, "What they say true?"
Really unsure of how to answer now, Janine nervously glanced back and forth between Negan and the women on the couch. If she said yes, Negan would punish her. If she said no, though, Negan still might punish her for indirectly calling his wives liars. Or, if he didn't punish her, Frankie and Tanya would surely get their revenge on her later. No matter what she was screwed. So, she decided to answer honestly. "No, I didn't do either of those things. The panties were torn when Tanya gave them to me and I couldn't fix them without a sewing kit, so I just washed them and returned them. And Frankie never gave me the shirt she wears when she dyes her hair." She had to fight to not smile at that last statement.
"Uh-huh," Negan looked back at the wives again. "Well I believe you about the panty thing. That one is my fucking bad."
Addressing the wives on the couch now, Negan continued, "Tanya don't fucking worry about it. You know I like you better without panties anyway. I'll get you another fucking pair if you want." Relieved, Janine sighed, and Tanya looked pleased as well. That probably meant she wouldn't mess with Janine about that later. "Still, you know how I feel about lying, Tanya, so I'm only gonna tell you this once like I told Frankie: you have a fucking problem, you fucking come to me and I'll fucking handle it." Tanya nodded frantically. "See? This is me fucking handling it for you.
"As for you, Frankie," Negan wandered over in her direction, "I can get you another fucking shirt for your hair, too. And I know where that shirt is. You fucking left it in my room. I told you to keep track of your shit and to take it with you when you leave. Don't blame others for your fucking mistakes. That's not cool."
Frankie dipped her head, chin nearly lowering to her chest as she meekly sat there. Her eyes were glaring daggers at Janine, and Janine knew there would be trouble later. It was worth it, though, just to witness Negan talk down to them both.
Walking back over to Janine, Negan rubbed a hand through his scruff, obviously tired of dealing with this stupid shit. "Alright, Janine, on your feet." With a creak of her tired knees, Janine stood back up. She was good at following orders. He looked her up and down, and from the looks of it, he liked what he saw for some reason. "Yeah, you are a damn good maid, Janine, but the job is wasted on a fucking super-model like you. You're damn wife material." Shaking his head with a wide shit-eating grin, he proposed, "Marry me?"
"WHAT!" Frankie screamed, face red like a tomato. Tanya looked just as angry, though her anger competed with the surprised look on her face, too, as her eyebrows lifted up and down and her mouth fell open like a fish.
Turning around, Negan barked, "Frankie! Tanya! You jealous bitches sure know how to ruin a damn mood! Go to your fucking rooms if you don't want to see this." He pointed Lucille at them and made a shooing gesture towards their respective bedrooms. Immediately, Tanya scurried off, fighting tears. Frankie took a different approach, slinking off and giving Janine the stink-eye as she left, her mouth twisted in an ugly sneer. "Frankie? When you see Amber again, you tell her she's not allowed to leave this fucking parlor until I see her again. Now get the fuck out of my sight."
Meanwhile, Janine was a bit in shock herself. She had been expecting punishment not marriage. Catching Negan's eye was never her intention, and she didn't think it would be possible either. Comparing herself to the other wives, Janine was nothing like them. Despite Negan repeating it, too, she was hardly the super-model either.
Once Negan turned back toward her, Janine was thinking hard about his offer. Part of her wanted to impetuously say yes just for the opportunity to sleep with him, but then again Frankie and Tanya would make her life a living hell. "So, what do ya say, Janine? Because I would just love to fuck your brains out. Especially considering that wifey number 4 has disappeared on me now. My evening is free for fucking if you'd like."
"You don't have to marry me to sleep with me," Janine gently told him, figuring that was his intentions. If she could sleep with Negan freely while avoiding the other wives, that was what she wanted to do then.
"But I wanna fucking marry you, Janine," Negan argued. "You're hot as shit and I appreciate a smartass just as much as I do a hot piece of ass." He waited for an answer, but Janine still wasn't sure. "Look, if you're worried about the others, I'll repeat myself for the third time tonight and say I'll fucking handle all your problems if there are any." But Janine was still indecisive. "Would you like for me to convince you? Come to my room for a quick fuck and once we're done fucking you can tell me your answer. One free fuck on me, Janine."
This was a good deal. "Yes," Janine quickly agreed, and then immediately blushed.
"Fucking fantastic." Negan smiled even wider. "Well, let's get down to it, then." He stepped forward and caught her around the waist. Tilting down he caught her mouth in a kiss that surprised her, and immediately it turned into passionate one.
It had been a while since Janine's last kiss; and just as she was getting into the swing of things, giving as good as she got (and Negan gave pretty damn well), he pulled away. "Mm, I made a damn good choice proposing to your fine ass. You kiss as good as you fucking clean, and I have high hopes that your fucking is even better." Flushing with pride, Negan jerked his head towards the exit. "Come on, let's get back to my room so I can get inside your pussy already. I bet you're already fucking soaked for me."
"Well, you'll have to find out," Janine teased, gaining confidence, and then she flounced away with a flick of her hair. She knew exactly where his room was. Giving him a coy look over her shoulder, she put a little more sway in her hips and crooked her fingers at him to follow. Hell yes, she was going to enjoy this.