check out the imagery for this chapter at on archeofourown: works/11771322/chapters/26537535

"Gross, ain't it?"

You had your gun pointed towards the crouching man who'd been peeking into a green volkswagon, trying to see past the gore of brains and flesh that fogged up the window.

He hadn't heard you coming which— duh, was the point. You almost rolled your eyes at the very clear unimpressed look in his eye at your comment, as well as the pistol that you had aimed to his head.

Well, too bad. You couldn't take any chances, and this man looked like a mean dude.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" The deep gravel in his voice startled you at first, mostly because you weren't expecting it. He was tall and muscular, scruffy with what you assumed was three months worth of facial hair peppered on his face.

To be honest, he was the first lone survivor you stumbled on since the outbreak happened a few weeks ago. Everyone just— sorta... scattered. If they were lucky, they had a spot reserved in one of the residential safe-zones the military had set up weeks before the outbreak official happened.

There were very few lucky ones.

The residential towns filled up quick, and those who weren't on the waitlist were told to move along.

Those who resisted were shot down.

You quickly learned your place.

You were out of your home city within the first three days. Your family is gone, your friend's left without a word, and frankly, you were focused on getting your ass away from the—those infected.

It all worked out in the end.

You learned to make do with what you could. You traveled alone, because you could not protect anyone else.

"Have some fucking respect for the dead," The survivor, who you currently held at gunpoint scolded you with his gruff voice, which you found humorous because he was telling you to respect the dead family that he was about to raid anyways.

You cocked your head to the side, raising an eyebrow, your amusement on your face.

His scowl deepened as he watched you, seemingly unfazed by your gun. His dark gaze hesitantly glanced at the dead body in the car, a fresh body with a hole through her forehead.

He glanced back to you, "Did you do it?"

"What?" You frowned at his blunt question, noting the hint of anger hidden in his overtly casual demeanor. "No. It's obviously a suicide, look at how stiff her trigger finger is."

The man peered into the van again, not even bothered how you hadn't lowered your gun. You would be offended if you weren't so curious about the strange survivor. You thought for sure he'd be trying to make demands by now. Still, he was a wild card, and you refused to let him get the jump on you.

"Well look at that," He let out a low whistle, impressed. "You're fuckin' right. Only thing missing is the gun." His dark gaze met yours as he finally acknowledged the weapon you pointed in his direction. Clearly you got to the van before he had, and took the goods. "You sure you know how to use that thing, girl?"

Your eye twitched in annoyance, because this was the first gun you've stumbled upon since the Start, but you weren't going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing he's right.

"I think it'll be pretty easy to figure out, yeah?"

"You shouldn't wave that thing around if you're not gonna use it."

Arrogant bastard! You took a step towards him, "I don't want to use it, but don't think I won't—"

Perhaps you were the arrogant one, because you hadn't even realized the man lunged at you until your wrist were in his grip and the gun was out of your hand. Holy shit—

The man seemed to find the situation hilarious, because the deep laughter that bubbled from his belly was entirely genuine.

You glanced at his face, frightened of the survivor who now, literally, had you in his captivity. He held the gun you found out of your reach, a triumphant look on his face.

"—Yeah, well I motherfucking will, girlie. So thanks for the gift."

Ack!

You reached for his waistline, snatching the hunting knife he had that was in your reach and was unguarded by his assault on you.

Stumbling back a few steps away from the large man, you pointed his knife in his direction with an annoyed look on your face.

"Right.. Well back at 'ya." Motherfucker stole your gun. At least you had his knife now, so you wouldn't be completely defenseless. It was time to leave before things escalated any further. You could find new areas to scavenge.

With your eyes glued to his dark brown hues, you took slow steps backwards, pretty sure he wouldn't shoot you if your back was turned, but didn't know for certain. He pointed the gun to the ground, but you couldn't ignore his finger which lay hesitant on the trigger.

Finally, the man let out a scoff, flipping the safety on the gun and tucking into his waistband. He rubbed the back of his head as he eyed your retreating form, and you couldn't help but notice the exhausted look in his eyes.

"Well, unlike you, I'm not a rude mother-fucker who's determined to go around killing what's left of the human fucking race."

Your exasperation showed on your face as you responded defensively, "I wasn't going to shoot unless you tried something!"

"The only way I would do something is if some fucking creep pointed his goddamn gun at me trying to be the king motherfucking dick—you got that you little shit?"

'Uhhh... does this mean he considered me to be king dick?'

Still, the man was not finished chewing you out.

"How in the never living fuck have you survived this long?" He actually looked angry, jamming his forefinger in your direction. "I've seen weak pieces of shit like you get gnawed on for less ignorant shit!"

Ergh. This guy really had a big attitude problem. You could feel your eye twitching from your restraint in snapping right back at the guy, knowing that he was much larger—definitely stronger than you.

He wasn't nearly as quick as you were, though.

Between clenched teeth, you drawled out, "And I've seen egocentric sons of bitches like you go down for less."

There was a silence between the two of you as your guys's words hung in the air.

It seemed the two of you were on the same page.

It's been three weeks since the start of this new world, and you have stumbled upon a handful of survivors, all of whom you've watched be taken.

All of whom you left behind.

You finally lowered his hunting knife as you eyed the— very, masculine survivor, who was now leaning against the green van, arms crossed against his chest.

The way his black T-Shirt stretched across his broad shoulders nearly had you distracted, and you nearly had to shake the image out of your head as you cleared your throat. His gaze was dark as he eyed you up and down, not even bothering to hide his wandering eye. Except, you weren't entirely certain if his perusal was sexual or not. Or if he even liked what he saw.

Errrg, awkward.

And great, you could hear one of the infected creeping up from a distance away.

The survivor before you heard it as well, his head snapping in the direction of the noisy pest. He unfolded his arms from his chest, placing his hands on his hips as his attention returned to you, for the loner infected was still a few yards away.

His deep baritone voice nearly startled you, as you were not expecting the next words that came out his mouth.

"Well, did you forget all your fucking manners after the world went to shit, or what? Are you gonna make me guess? What's your goddamn name, girlie girl?"

Your eyebrows flew up in amusement— god, he's calling you rude?! Still, you had a feeling you knew where he was going with this.

Arms crossed against your chest, you felt oddly vulnerable. The last time you traveled with another survivor didn't end well. You weren't sure you could do it again.

There really was no choice.

"[Y/N]," You mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze, eyes glued to the dirt road. "Just... don't get fucking attached."

Because you will leave him behind.

If you had to.

He actually looked appalled by your grim demeanor, and when his face went slack and emotionless, you thought for a moment he were truly angry by your comment.

Without another word, he turned around to take care of the infected pest. You wondered to yourself if he would waste bullets on the lone walker, since you stole his knife.

The survivor surprised you when he kicked the infected walking man in the gut, sending the pest on his back. Viciously, the survivor raised his large booted foot, stomping on the dead's head repeatedly before the pest remained immobile.

Well. Now you understood why he was a survivor.

He brushed passed you wordlessly, returning to the green van as he smashed in the drivers window with his elbow, shattering it entirely. You figured the car has been dead for a while, thankfully he didn't trigger an alarm with his recklessness. You could have easily picked the car door open.

Deciding to follow his lead, you headed over to a car a few feet ahead, checking to make sure there were none of the infected around. Digging into your jean pocket for your wire, you began to pick the Honda's door, smirking triumphantly when the door popped open a few moments later.

There wasn't much to scavenge—a pack of cigarettes which you passed, instantly heading for the bottle of wine in the back seat, and patting down the dead woman in the drivers seat, taking her lighter from her front pocket.

There was no sense in shutting the door back, so you tucked your findings into your rusack, glancing around your surroundings before your eyes landed on the man, who'd just finished slipping his arm through his backpack's sleeve.

"Name's Negan."

You smirked at him, remembering how he'd called you 'fucking rude' for not introducing yourself, yet it took him this long to give you his name.

"Didn't ask," You waved your hand at him disinterestedly, heading off the dirt road and back towards the woods.

The sound of his heavy footsteps came from behind you. Christ, the dude was so freaking big.

"Right—you're a real fucking comedian," He huffed from behind you, before finally falling into your quick, but silent strides.

You cocked an interested look to your side so you could catch Negan's profile, his attention too focused on the woods surrounding you two to notice your gaze.

He actually looked amused. His signature scowl was still pasted on his face, but you had a feeling that he wasn't nearly as annoyed as he made himself out to be.

Crap—are you, are you smiling?

Jesus Christ, [Y/N].

Don't get attached!