The soothing sound of music drifted around the bedroom, as the afternoon sunlight streamed in through the lone window. After so much time without something as simple as music, it was a luxury to hear the comforting notes emanating from the old record player you had recently acquired. As one of Negan's wives, you were afforded luxuries others weren't, and you couldn't help but snag the old record player when it had popped up in the commissary a few weeks ago after one of The Saviors' supply runs. There had also been a few records to choose from, and you had been overjoyed to see some older albums that caught your attention and brought up a sense of nostalgia.
Organizing your room as the music played, you had just finished making the bed when you stopped to soak in the melody floating from the record player. Standing there in the middle of the room, you closed your eyes and allowed the music to take you back to a past memory, when walkers didn't roam the earth, and when music and dancing were as common a daily activity as breathing. Hips swaying, your body moved in time with the alluring beat, as the music flowed through your veins.
Turning dreamily, you gasped at the sight of Negan standing in your doorway, his hip cocked and shoulder resting against the doorframe as he stared at you, a smirk playing around the corners of his lips. A blush heated your cheeks at the thought the he had been watching you, had seen you lost in such a private moment.
"Damn, Gina. I didn't know that you were a fucking dancer," he drawled, eyes trailing up and down your form, even though you were no longer moving.
"I'm not, really," you replied. "I just…well…I miss it. The way music used to be everywhere. How you could go out and dance in public, either alone or with someone else, and no one thought twice about it."
Realizing how ridiculous that probably sounded, you stopped talking, instead giving a shrug and picking an imaginary piece of lint off the front of your shirt.
At that moment, the song ended, leaving the room in silence for a few seconds. Then, one of your favorite slow songs came on, and you couldn't help but give a small smile and glance at the record player. It was "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" by The Platters, and you had always thought it was one of the most romantic songs that had ever been written.
Negan must've noticed your reaction, because he stood up from the doorframe and sauntered further into the room, towards you. Stopping when he was right in front of you, his tall form towering over your own, he stripped off his leather gloves and tossed them onto the newly-made bed, behind you. Jumping slightly at the feel of a surprisingly gentle hand resting on the curve of your waist, Negan lifted his other hand up to shoulder height, and waited.
Feeling as if you were in a dream, but not yet wanting to wake up, you immediately raised your hand to mirror his, a shiver running through you as his large, warm hand wrapped around your own.
Taking a step to the side, he pulled you with him, and you gasped as he started up a slow, steady rhythm in time with the music. Holy crap, he's slow dancing!
Never in a million years would you have expected this of Negan. In fact, you honestly hadn't even known he had it in him, to carry a beat like this. His feet moved perfectly with the beat, carrying him slowly around the room. And you willingly followed, the two of you flowing so smoothly that it felt as if your feet barely touched the ground.
Pulling you in closer, he leaned down so that his mouth was near your ear, and started humming along to the music, his stubble grazing your cheek as his hard chest moved against you in delicious friction. A shiver went through you as his deep voice softly sang a couple lines of the lyrics…words that you hoped, deep in your heart, that he truly meant.
So I chaffed them, and I gaily laughed
To think they would doubt our love
Sighing, you closed your eyes and let yourself be whisked away to another world, one where it was just you and Negan, no one else. No walkers, no apocalypse, and definitely no fearing for your life on a daily basis. Here, with the music flowing through the room, and Negan's large, warm body enveloping yours, it was possible to forget all your worries. To feel safe and secure and loved.
All too soon, the song ended, silence filling the room as the two of you slowed to a halt. It had only lasted a couple of minutes, but that dance had meant everything to you. Tilting your head back, you smiled affectionately up at Negan, who was staring back silently.
"Thank you, I missed doing that," you whispered, your eyes conveying what words could not.
His eyes twinkled softly in return, his one hand giving yours a gentle squeeze, while the other slowly glided up the curve of your waist before falling back to his side.
"No problem, doll. I guess now we can say we have our own song, huh?" he joked with a playful wink, before turning and heading for the door.
Stopping at the threshold, he turned back just as a new song started playing, this one with a faster beat. A slow smile curled across his lips as he looked you over, and commented, "Next time, perhaps you can dance for me, show me some more of those fucking delicious moves you were doing earlier."
Grinning mischievously back at him, you asked, "Do I get to pick the music?"
"So long as I get to pick your outfit," he smoothly countered.
You tapped a finger against your lips, as if contemplating the terms, before arching a brow and saucily replying, "Make it red and sparkly, and you've got a deal."
His eyes darkened with lust, but his smile was tender and full of affection as he softly replied, "Deal," before exiting the room.
You stood there for a long minute, staring at the empty doorway with a ridiculous smile on your face. Then, walking back over to the record player, you picked up the needle and placed it so that the slow song started playing again. And then you listened to your song…over and over again.