Lucille had to be the easiest woman in the world to please. Out of all of Negan's girlfriends, Lucille didn't need a whole lot of money spent on her to be happy. If he took her to the carnival, she'd get more excited over funnel cakes generously sprinkled with powdered sugar than the giant teddy bears they gave away at the games. Not that Negan didn't win her the teddy bears anyway, because if he were honest, knocking over bottles with baseballs was something he'd been doing all his life. It's just that Lucille would always comment on how delicious the food smelled, practically drooling over the thick, heavy aroma of grease lingering in the air. Negan didn't really care much for corn dogs and deep-fried Oreos and Twinkies, but if it made Lucille happy, then he was happy. At least Lucille wasn't dumb enough to go on the Tilt-a-Whirl after eating. And Negan did enjoy watching her suck her fingers clean and lick the residue sugar clinging to her lips.
While they were dating, Negan soon realized that the easiest dates – and most successful ones – were the ones where they went out to eat. Lucille couldn't concentrate on the movie if she didn't have something to snack on. Negan figured that out the hard way when right after the lights dimmed Lucille pulled out a bag of Twizzlers from her purse. After that, Negan always made sure to buy a popcorn and soda for them to share. And then very soon after that, Negan realized that he had to buy nachos, too – "Extra jalapeños, please!" so that he could actually get to eat more than a handful of popcorn.
Movie dates were surprisingly the most expensive. There were many nights were all the would do is drive out to find a Hardy's or Sonic just to munch on tater tots and slurp down a malt together. They'd have picnics at the park with a pizza, lying on their backs and pointing out shapes in the clouds while they soaked up the sunshine. Negan oftentimes stared more at Lucille than he ever did at the sky. How could the blue sky ever compare with the blue of her eyes? How could the sun compare to her blonde hair fanned out on the blanket?
Usually preferring a good burger over surf and turf, Lucille didn't care much for fancy restaurants. Negan's wallet and Negan himself couldn't complain. That didn't mean she was a picky eater by any means, though. To Lucille there was no such thing as bad Chinese food and she always ended up dragging Negan to a new little Mexican restaurant that opened up somewhere. It didn't matter if it was a taco truck or gourmet shit, Lucille dug into burritos with gusto every time. Negan liked watching her take her first bite. Her eyes would close in pleasure, she'd moan around the big bite she took, and right after she swallowed it down after savoring the taste she'd look right at him and smile, always grateful, always happy. And Negan would reach across the table and clean the sauce from the corner of her mouth or where it dripped down her chin. And Lucille would blush.
Never-failing to drip something on her shirt, Lucille was admittedly a messy eater, but she wasn't a disgusting eater at all. For one, Negan never had to be afraid to kiss her because if she wasn't eating, Lucille had a habit of popping mints in her mouth constantly or chewing on a piece of gum. Although, she wasn't annoying about it. She never smacked or blew bubbles, and Negan linked the minty freshness of her kisses. Besides that, too, she never had food in her teeth. Lucille hated going to the dentist and had a deep-seated fear of cavities, so she was one of the few people Negan knew – probably the only person Negan knew – who actually religiously flossed once a day.
His Lucille was raised right, too. She had the manners to chew with her mouth closed, and she never talked if her mouth was full. Conversations with Lucille were very hard when they were at dinner as she usually preferred to eat before talking. Negan also learned that a hungry Lucille was a cranky Lucille. The only times she was ever bitchy was when she was a hungry, so whenever Negan fucked up – which was often for him – he'd make it up to her with food. If Negan thought with his dick, then Lucille thought with her stomach. It was true, really, that the way to Lucille's heart was through her stomach.
That's how he proposed to her – by hiding her ring in a cake. Thankfully, Lucille didn't eat it like he mildly feared, but she did eat the rest of the cake after she cried and slipped the ring on her finger and chanted, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Later on that night, Negan had her chanting that for an entirely different reason. And then they had to haphazardly throw on their clothes in search for a Wendy's Frosty.
They didn't always have to go out to eat, though. In fact, Lucille enjoyed home cooking more after they were married. Cooking had become a pleasure for Negan now rather than a chore because Lucille would eat literally anything without complaint. If Negan tossed a salad, she'd drown it in ranch and scarf it down. If Negan baked lasagna, she dug right in. Even if they didn't have time to cook, Lucille would be happy with a bowl of sugary cereal for dinner.
Negan also noticed that Lucille was a pretty damn good cook, too. Salmon and asparagus, green bean casserole, pot roast and potatoes with carrots and celery – Negan could have married her for her cooking alone if he hadn't already loved her. Out of all of her dishes, Negan loved them the most if they involved pasta. Personally, carbs were his comfort food, and Lucille knew how to make pasta from scratch. Spaghetti with meatballs rolled by hand, chicken and dumplings, fresh biscuits for breakfast with his turkey bacon, homemade macaroni and cheese with at least five different types of cheese – Negan asked her a million times why she didn't open a restaurant with him, but Lucille always waved it off. She was happy working with him at the high school, her teaching music and him coaching baseball.
In fact, one of Lucille's favorite past times had to be going to baseball games. Not only did she just love the sport itself – "It's an easy game to keep up with and I like how people don't go as nuts as they do at football or basketball games." – but she loved the food. Her favorite food in the world had to be all-American beef hotdogs smothered in chili, relish, onions, mustard, ketchup, nacho cheese, and bacon bits. Whether it be an Atlanta Braves game or her attending one of the games where Negan was coaching, it never failed that Lucille got one hot dog at the least. Sometimes if it was a long game and Negan was busy she'd get another but three was her limit.
When baseball wasn't in season, though, Negan had to satisfy Lucille's hotdog fix another way. No matter how often he tried he just couldn't make a hotdog at home as good as the ones they sold at the stadiums. Despite Lucille's protest that his cooking was fine, Negan took Lucille on an epic quest from gas station to gas station looking for the perfect hotdog. One day they had found it.
Hot Diggity Dog was the best hotdog place downtown. The silly name was not only fun and clever but well deserved. Negan ordered a hotdog with nacho cheese and bacon bits and after his first bite he exclaimed exactly that. "Hot diggity dog! This shit is motherfucking, cock-sucking magnificent!" Lucille didn't even scold him for cursing so loudly because she was too busy on her second bite.
After that, that place became a special treat for the both of them. They'd get in the mood and hop on Negan's Harley and drive there on a whim just to get a taste. By now, they had visited there so often that the owner knew them by name and had their order memorized. The owner had even gone so far as to promise them that if they kept coming back for at least a year, he'd name a hotdog after them.
Well, it was getting around that time again. Almost a year and it had been about two weeks since they had last gone to Hot Diggity Dog. Negan could tell that Lucille was getting antsy gearing up to go. So, one day after school they just up and went. Negan enjoyed the wind on his face, Lucille's arms wrapped around his middle so tightly, the purr of the engine between his thighs as he drove. Lucille clung to him, head resting on his back, and Negan knew that this was one of those perfect moments in time. Once they got there, they eagerly hopped off the Harley, hooking their helmets to it and rushing inside. Lucille had mentioned briefly at breakfast over their pancakes that she'd been craving a hotdog, and now Negan had every intention of satisfying her. But something was wrong.
As soon as they stepped foot inside, Lucille paused rather than rushing to the register. Negan watched as she clapped one hand over her mouth, covering her nose as well, and her other hand protectively wrapped around her stomach. She actually turned a little green before she rushed off the bathroom.
Dumbfounded, Negan stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Lucille had gotten colds and flus, but she never ever vomited around him. Hell, Lucille never even got food poisoning from anyone and they had eaten at plenty of sketchy shacks and dive-bars and shit-holes-in-the-wall. He'd yet to see her vomit, and he wasn't so sure if he wanted to ruin that track record now.
Was her sickness from the Harley? Had he drove too fast? They worked at a high school, so maybe one of the kids had a stomach bug that she caught.
Walking up to the counter, Negan told the owner to hold off on their hotdogs for now. The owner nodded in understanding and Negan went to his and Lucille's usual table by the window. Lucille liked to people watch while she ate and Negan like to keep a possessive eye on his Harley. He sat there docilely, patiently waiting for his wife, trying to convince himself that there was no need to be that concerned. People got sick all the time, that didn't mean that this had to be a serious illness.
Eventually, Lucille did return, and she slid into her sit across from him looking pale and a little sweaty. Reaching across the table, Negan took her hand, and it was clammy but he didn't pull away, only squeezing tighter in comfort. "Do we need to fucking go home, Lucille? You want me to stop by the Walgreens and pick you up some of that pink shit or something?"
Lucille drew in a shaky breath, and when she exhaled Negan smelt the cloying citrus cent of her orange Tic-Tacs. "I don't think I'll need Pepto Bismol, Negan, but there is something else you could pick up for me there."
"I don't think you need any fucking pizza rolls or fucking Doritos on your stomach right now, Lucille. Maybe just some saltine crackers and ginger ale. You can work your way up to chicken fucking noodle soup, and then we'll see what kind of shit your stomach can fucking handle. You'll have to make due with fucking Campbells, though, doll. I can't make chicken fucking noodle soup from fucking scratch like you can."
She actually smiled at him. A shaky smile, but a smile nonetheless. "No, Negan, I actually had something else in mind."
"Yeah? What then?"
"A pregnancy test," she said in a small voice.
Negan at least had the decency not to sputter, though he did turn just as green as Lucille had. "When was your last, uh, well, you fucking know?"
"A little over a month ago," she admitted to him a small, pink, and pretty blush. Negan liked seeing the color return to her cheeks. "It's not unusual for me to be late you know. It's also not unusual for us to be a little careless when we get caught up in the moment," she reminded him gently with a pointed look added for good measure as well.
He had the good grace to look down at the table. Last time he had been more than a little eager to – how had he so elegantly put it? – "Get inside that sweet fucking pussy." Afterwards they had gone to get some chili-cheese fries. Still, one little slip up like that couldn't really be the one that got her pregnant, could it? Shit, Negan should know better. He taught the boys about the birds and the bees every spring and he always drilled it in their heads to "Use a fucking condom, dipshit, you're not ready for a baby yet." Well now look who was the dipshit. Negan certainly didn't feel ready for a baby in any case.
Still, he didn't argue with Lucille. They left without the hotdogs, not wanting to risk Lucille projectile vomiting all over the highway on their way home. Negan made a pitstop at the Walgreens and bought five different boxes of pregnancy tests. At Lucille's odd look, Negan explained it off. "We gotta make fucking sure. I'd hate for you to just have a fucking virus and you give that nasty shit to me, too."
Again, Negan had to wait on his wife in the bathroom, though this time rather than sitting on the couch, he wore a hole in the carpet pacing. Eventually Lucille called him in the bathroom, and he nearly sprinted to her. There lined up on the edge of the tub were the five different pregnancy tests. Negan wasn't sure what the symbols meant, so he just turned to look at Lucille expectantly.
Rather than saying anything, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth. For a languid moment, Negan forgot about the possibility of his wife being pregnant and instead just enjoyed the kiss, loving the perfect taste of her, of just Lucille. When she pulled back there were tears in her eyes, happy tears, and she nodded fervently to him.
A slow smile spread across Negan's face, dimples going deep. He wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, splaying a hand over her slightly plump stomach. Soon she's be much rounder, but it was too soon to tell. "Well, shit." He kissed the crown of her hair once. "Fuck." He kissed her forehead. "Hot diggity dog." He kissed her nose and she finally giggled. "Lucille, Lucille, I'm gonna be a fucking daddy."
"A real daddy," she nodded, beaming back at him.
"You're gonna be a mom, Lucille. You'll be a wonderful fucking mom." Negan kissed her at least a dozen more times before he pulled back again. "Shit, sweetheart, I don't know how you can make this day any fucking better for me. I feel like I should be going to get you fucking something." Gently, he wiped away her tears, a few of them still lingering in her dark eyelashes, sparkling there like stars in her eyes. His long fingers curved over her cheek, caressing her cheekbone tenderly as he swiped the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip.
"Well, I think the smell of meat bothers me for right now. Which sucks because I was really craving that hotdog." She pouted at him adorably.
Negan sucked his teeth, an impish look crossing over his face that promised trouble. Lucille recognized the look easily. "Well, Lucille baby, I can think of one meat you can raw at no fucking consequences to you." He chuckled and looked down between them, fondly patting her stomach. "At least, not any fucking more you won't."
Catching on quickly, Lucille batted her eyelashes at him, coy and seductive as she flirted back, "Mm, now that's one thick and juicy all-American beef that I can just never get enough of." Then she giggled, and Negan did, too.
"Fuck, I love you."
"I know. I love you, too." She kissed his cheek, ignoring the scratch of his stubble, letting her lips linger on his dimple. Lucille whispered in his ear, "Now take me to bed and give me that wiener, Negan."
He laughed long and loud, nearly doubling over. His nose wrinkled, eyes scrunching up, and fluidly he picked her up and carried her to their bedroom. "Are you gonna get even fucking bossier now that you're gonna be a fucking mom, Lucille? Shit."
"Yup. Better get used to it, Daddy."
"Oh, I fucking plan to, Momma."
And Negan did take her to bed many times over because it was like Lucille said. She just couldn't get enough of him. Though afterwards, way late into the night, they finally left their bed to satisfy Lucille's first pregnancy craving: Little Debbie Oatmeal Pies.