Disclaimer: AMC owns the story and characters of The Walking Dead, and they play dirty tricks on people. I do fictional fixings.
Author's note: I wrote this while high on antibiotics and ibuprofen for a severe throat infection and accompanying cold, it seems that produces fluff! So here it is, a sidestory to The Marks of Running Ink for my plaid!Negan fantasy.
"Well, fuck me." Negan muttered. His heart deflated a bit as he watched the squishy, ugly radishes he'd pulled from the upturned earth.
He wished he had paid attention to Vivienne's crop-related-ramblings when he was leader of the Sanctuary, he could use some of that knowledge now. He sat back on his ass and put the radishes in his basket. Watching the perfect blue of the sky, he started wondering if he should just give up crop growing, as it wasn't rendering any benefits, even if he poured all of his effort in it. He could try some other stuff, right?
"You're still shit at this." He heard someone say behind him.
He turned to see Martha holding a couple of lemonade glasses. She was wearing a big hat on her head, enough to protect her skin from the unforgiving sun.
"Well, angel-face, we can't all be farmers." Negan snarked, showing Martha his sad garden. She raised an eyebrow, but seemed to agree with him.
"Console yourself with this, Carol prepared it, it's got mint." Negan took the offered glass and gulped down the perfectly sweetened lemonade. It tasted like heaven. "So, what would you do if not farming crops, Negan?" his former wife asked. "Let's be honest, you're sort of free here because Rick is too good a politician."
"You think he is a good politician?" Negan scoffed, almost dropping his lemonade.
"How do you think he united this whole community stuff?" Martha asked. "You used to be savvy with this stuff."
Negan shrugged.
"I was always better with numbers."
Martha considered a bit.
"Well…yeah, that's true." Martha smiled after a few seconds. "Why not try your hand with cooking?"
"Yeah, fuck no!" Negan exclaimed. "Mrs. Peletier hates my old guts and I'm not putting my ass anywhere near her when knifes are in the proximity, angel-face!"
"Right, I had forgotten, Carol is great when it's about everyone but you."
Martha laughed at Negan's dirty look.
"What? Old habits die hard."
"Old habits die hard my ass." He muttered. "So, are you gonna help me dig these fuckers out?"
"Nope, I got shift in the infirmary." Martha informed him. "Maybe I can send Chase to help you."
"Yeah, he likes me." Negan smiled, maybe he could get some good talking.
"He is going to talk your ear off about the new baby tho, he is over the moon."
"Send that lucky bastard here, then, angel-face!"
Martha shook her head softly and nodded.
Watching his now empty garden, Negan sighed.
Chase turned to look at him and then back at the freshly moved earth.
"You ruined a perfectly good garden, sir." The younger man admitted, making his former leader frown.
"First, you might as well call me Negan, that's my name. Two. I was trying to somethings damn nice."
"Old habits die hard, sir." Chase said, taking a long drink of his cold water, making Negan feel something eerie. It was the second time someone said that to him that day. Chase didn't care if Negan was offended and that made him realize he had a friend. He liked that.
In the dying light of the day, both men watched the garden as the earth dried, surrounded by the smell of fresh plants and fresh bread from the bakers' down the street. The sound of children playing not far from them made them smile.
After a while, Chase's smile lit up.
"Why not tomatoes?"
What the fuck was he bringing tomatoes up for?
"What the heck?" he asked transparently.
"Tomatoes, sir." Chase repeated. "You can grow tomatoes."
"Yeah, I'm gonna need help any-fucking-way." Negan said sheepishly when he got what Chase told him. "I thought this would be easier."
"Well, I'm gonna help you? What are friends for?"
Getting the seed was easy, as was racking the garden back to a workable space. Chase helped Negan divide the plots and put up the racks with thread and wooden sticks.
Every other day, Chase would bring his children.
"We divide the time so the kids can pick up what they want to do later." His friend would say proudly.
"As long as they can make gelato, I'd feel a-fucking-mazing!" Negan had exclaimed.
That afternoon was an awkward event of two grown ass men chasing kids that kept repeating a-fucking-mazing between loud giggles.
Negan would never admit how giddy he felt when the first little leaves started to grow, green and perfect.
Everything went great for a while.
Then they got a fucking storm!
And the tomatoes died a wet, ugly death.
Negan received a letter.
He never had liked cellphones, but he wished they had them then.
I'll be back soon. I've got news.
The words kept him working, and he started again.
The festival was close, the people practically sweated the excitement out, and not in the pleasant way, but everyone was putting something of themselves.
Negan wished he didn't have to neglect his new batch of tomatoes, he was proud of them, and he noticed that people looked at him differently when they saw him work around with Chase and Vera's kids. The twins were friends with everyone, with their dimpled cheeks and pretty brown locks, and, if someone as reliable as Vera and Chase would trust their kids to Negan -swear words aside- he couldn't be that bad right?
Now, Negan could be seen with a tiny following of little ones whenever he was working in something not dangerous. The kids loved to be taken seriously, and Negan loved taking their little problems seriously.
Who was he to judge if Stacey thought she hadn't had enough strawberry jelly? He gave the girl his supply of jelly and was done with it. The parents never complained anyway.
Judith Grimes was probably one of his biggest benefactors, the girl sat with him some days, just watching the plants grow while coloring and talking about her brother and how he was making great stuff in The Hilltop. Judith never judged him when he flinched at the mention of the Hilltop.
This morning, though, Judith came with her old man, who looked ever so old now, man-bush or not.
"Good morning." Judith's squeaky voice made Negan turn around and get up to greet the girl.
"Good morning to you, darlin'." He smiled. The girl smiled at him, even if Rick gave Negan that carboard smile he usually gave him. Even that made him feel better today.
"We get the people from the Hilltop today." Rick mentioned, not as smoothly as he thought.
Negan smiled wider.
"I know." He shook the dark, soft dirt off his hands. "I'm gonna make her something special. Got these beautiful tomatoes."
Rick looked around, giving someone a frowny-smile as they passed, waving at him.
"You didn't hear it from me, but she likes them roasted with paprika."
"Well, thank you! Old-man, you still got the tricks." Negan clapped Rick's back, making him flinch.
I still got it, too. Negan thought proudly to himself.
Negan kept harvesting his shiny, beautiful tomatoes, it seemed he got more than enough for his own home and to share. Maybe he could make some spaghetti sauce preserve for the festival, and keep some of his own. Lucille's recipe.
In the darkness of the room, Negan felt the cold and delicate hands of his soulmate.
"I'm sorry about diner." She murmured into his chest.
"I get it." He said, feeling another smile take over him. He had been smiling like an idiot since she'd given him the news. "So…how are you gonna make it up to me?" Negan asked, feeling the joy bubble in his chest.
"Sex, of course, we're not naming the baby Tomato to heal your ego." Tory said indignantly.
"Well, forgive a man for trying," Negan smirked, putting his hands up in a peace gesture. "Who would have thought your favorite food didn't agree with our little bean?"
"Negan…" Tory started.
"Yes, dear?" he asked.
"No fruit names for the baby." She deadpanned.
"Are you telling me tomatoes are fruits?"
Later that night, when Tory was deep in her sleep, Negan kissed her slightly rounded belly.
"Let's keep it between us, my tiny tomato."