A/N Even though Negan and RM are out in the middle of nowhere, this is more of a dialogue chapter for the two. I'll have more survival type scenarios in later chapters.
Alexithymia (n.) the inability to express your feelings.
"We should fuck for warmth."
"One minute of warmth isn't worth that sweaty mushroom in my skillet."
"Whatever, I'm firing one off."
By now I should know he's not joking, but as he tugs himself from his zipper hole, I find myself surprised.
"You can watch. I won't fucking mind."
"Why do you hold your breath?"
"It makes my orgasm better."
"Madsen held his breath. I always thought it was because he was secretly into that choking shit."
"Goddamn," he exhales, and it's like a switch is flipped because he goes completely limp. "Fucking seriously? Bitch, I don't tell you about how Lucille used to like it when I fucked her in front of the mirror while you part the pink sea."
"Sea? Fuck you, bitch."
"Shut the fuck up, RM. Help me, or leave me the fuck alone." He snaps his eyes shut, and pulls in a lung full of air. He's having one hell of a time.
"Think about what turns you on."
"I know how to fucking jerk it."
"Since when have you ever had a problem?"
"Since I'm thinking about you choking some fuck that ain't me."
"I didn't choke him. I told you, I don't like violence."
"You threaten to choke me all the time."
"I've never once threatened to choke you, and even if I did, you'd deserve it. You'd probably be all about that shit anyhow. You're already at full mast."
"What can I say? Apparently, I'm all about that pale sickly heroinesque look."
"Asshole."
"I meant that in a good way. You look real fuckable, bitch. I like how your eyes always look like they're about to close. Or how your hair is always a fucking ratted blonde mess, yet it's real fucking sexy. Like you don't give a fuck."
"I don't give a fuck." I sigh and look away from him. As much as it bothers me to admit it, his compliments make me feel good. Madsen used to tell me all the time that I was beautiful. I'm not beautiful. What did Negan just call it? Heroinesque. Yeah. That's me. "What turns you on?"
"I already told you. Stockings."
Jesus, I thought he was fucking joking about that shit.
"It's a damn fucking shame you won't let me rub this fat fucking chubby on those nylons. Shit, I wouldn't last ten seconds."
"You don't last ten seconds now."
"Maybe it's you. You ever think about that?"
"No. I never give any thought about fucking you."
"What-the-fucking-shit-ever."
"If you're so turned on by my stockings, how come when I was a wife you didn't try?"
"You made it clear I wasn't to touch them."
"Well... I fucking appreciate that."
"You can thank me by telling me what turns you on."
"Fine. Moaning."
"Goddamn, that's fucking hot. Shit. Seriously? Because I get real fucking loud."
"Everyone in Sanctuary can hear you when you fire one off. I'm talking about moaning, not fucking yelling and commenting on how tight or wet your wives are."
"I can moan for you, bitch."
"Yeah? Alright, then." He's so fucking full of shit. Negan reserve is a fucking joke.
His fingers wrap tightly around that bastard as his eyes slam shut.
This outta be good. I fold my arms as I witness my own personal freak show. His face contorting in ways that are fucking hysterical. Then it slithers from his mouth. This low guttural moan, followed by several hoarse grunts. His eyes pop open and that sickly grin creeps up the side of his face.
"That's pretty goddamn good I guess..." Motherfucker. Fuck him.
"Come sit on my lap, let me finish."
"No. I'm going to sleep." Disgusting. Letting myself get all worked up over this bullshit.
"Fine, lay there all horny because you're too proud to admit someone that wasn't him actually got your stockings wet." He goes right to sleep after firing one off.
Fuck him, he didn't get my stockings wet. Now if only I fucking believed that...
I know Negan and I aren't on the best terms right now, but he never once took his eyes off me. If I was too cold, he built me a fire. If I was tired, he let me rest. If I was scared, he gave me affection. Every time something moved, his knife was in his hand. "Do you know where you're going?"
"Yeah, we'll be home in a few days."
That's a relief. I hardly got to spend any time with my aliens. "Why'd you stop?"
"I'm so fucking horny, I'm two seconds from tunneling a hole in the mud for my dick."
"Seriously? You just jerked it yesterday."
"What's your point?"
"Do you think it's possible to have a conversation that doesn't involve fucking?"
"What else is there to talk about?"
"Do you think spiders can live for like a lot of years? Like outlive humans?"
"No."
"Fuck you, you stoic fuck. You answer me like my question is so fucking absurd."
"Stoicism is one thing I've never been accused of."
"They ain't looking then. I think the only reason you're as boorish as you are is because you're hiding how much pain you're really in. That and when you're not trying to stick your dick in something, you're being one."
"I'm always fucking nice to you."
"Not me, dingus. Everyone else."
"I don't know much about you, but what I do, it's fucking terrible, yet you never feel sorry for yourself."
"That's just me, man. I don't let shit get me down."
"You know, I was kinda worried when you got clean that maybe your personality was because of the drugs. You make me laugh. I really like you, bitch."
"You're okay, too, my Lord. Come on, let's get you back to your scepter."
"What'd you learn while you were with the almighty King," he scoffs.
"Go forth and fucketh thine self."
He stares owl eyed back at me, his lips parted.
"I rendered him speechless!" I motherfucking moonwalk down the sidewalk.
"Bitch," he mutters, bumping into me as he passes by.
"Sorry, I can't understand you when you use weak adjectives."
"Bitch is a noun, bitch."
Wha... what the fuck is a noun? "God, you're grumpy! Grumpy dumpy, grumpy dumpy," I sing. "Wait! Why are you walking so fast? Slow down! I can't keep up with your freaky long legs!"
"Not so fucking funny now, is it?"
I don't know why I fucking did it. It's not like I can outrun him, but by god I fucking tried. I run to the one store I'm familiar with. The big sign says liquor on top of it. I hurry inside the ice machine outside of the store, closing the flap behind me.
Negan sighs pacing outside of the ice machine. "RM, get out of there."
"There's no one named RM here!" I feel around in the dark for one of the melted ice bags so I can drink the water out of it. It tastes like I'm drinking out of one of the Savior's boots.
"RM."
"Go away!"
"Okay, I'm leaving now."
I hear his dumpy feet start down the sidewalk before I open the hatch.
Negan reaches in and pulls me out.
"Let me go! You fucking lied to me!"
"Stop this!"
"Ow, you're hurting me! Help! Help someone help!"
"Who the fuck are you yelling at, bitch? You really think someone is going to come along and rescu-" Negan is smacked in the face with a crowbar.
"No, stop," I yell at the men.
"You want to put your hands on a woman?" One of the men raises his crowbar and hits Negan in the ribs.
"You're hurting him," I whine, putting my arms around Negan as best as I can to protect him from another blow. I'm shoved off Negan. Now, I've seen some shit in my day but I have never seen someone jam a crowbar down another human beings throat and for whatever reason, that I am damn fucking grateful for, Negan stops himself before he pushes it down the man's throat.
"Drop your fucking bags, and get as far as fucking possible from me as you can or it's going up your balloon knot instead, you fucking fuck."
My eyes light up as I watch the men scamper off.
Negan massages his jaw before letting out a moan.
Yeah, okay, so maybe I kinda sucked his crowbar right there in the middle of the street, but he fucking deserved it. I know the only reason he didn't kill those men is because of me and I wanted to reward him.
"Goddamn, I have blown my load in a lot of bitches but your little mouth is by far the fucking best." He zips up his pants, twirling his new weapon. "Oh, come on, bitch. It doesn't taste that bad."
I lean over and throw up again. "Oh, shit, I gotta shit! No," I panic. "I'm gonna shit my beauties!"
"What the fuck?"
I manage not to by some fucking miracle, but shitting them would have been the least of my problems. "Oh, god, my insides are shredding!"
Negan thrusts his hips proudly. "Yep. I got some strong boys."
I didn't think it was possible to throw up again, but I did.
"Goddamn, both ends," he laughs.
"I'm glad you find this shit so hilarious!"
"I do find this shit hilarious!" So he says because he starts to lose that stupid grin after a few minutes of this. "Does it really taste that bad?"
"Shut up, dingus!" I'm left alone to shit in peace only it's but maybe a minute.
"RM," he yells, agitating the dripping bag at me. "Did you fucking drink this? Oh my fucking god, you did. Of course, you did. Do you have any idea how many years this shit has been sitting in that container? Jesus, the bacteria growing in this is going to fucking kill you!"
"I wish it would hurry up," I whine, holding my stomach.
"What were you thinking?!"
"I wasn't thinking, obviously! I was thirsty! Stop yelling at me!"
"You fucked up big time, and now you might really fucking die!"
"This is your fault, you rude fuck! I was being nice to you! I even put that hairy churro in my precious mouth because I was proud of you and you've gone and fucked it all up! I told you, you fucking ruin everything!" Oh, god. Please don't give me that look of his right now.
"You… well, uh." His cheeks redden. "Proud?"
"Not right now I'm not! Now leave me to shit in peace!"
"Here." He hands me the toilet paper.
"Where'd you find this?!"
"There's a thing called a bathroom inside the liquor store."
"Fucking smart ass. I thought I told you to leave me the fuck alone?"
"Bitch, I wasn't yelling at you to make you feel bad. I was yelling because I was fucking worried, okay? Worried that you might actually die. What the fuck am I going to do for you all the way out here?"
I burp, followed by a shrug.
"Yeah. Of course, she doesn't fucking care."
"Whoa, I can wipe my own leather cheerio, dingus!"
"Will you fucking hurry up then?"
I drag this out as long as I possibly fucking can but he suffers through it. Damn, I hate when you're trying to get a rise out of someone and they don't let you. Fucking waste.
"Here, drink this. Found it in one of those little prick's bag. Small sips."
"I'm going to lay down."
"No." He hooks my arm before I start towards the office inside the liquor store. "You don't ever sleep somewhere where there isn't more than one way out. Behind the register is where we'll sleep."
I don't even get to lay down before I run off to puke again. This outta be fun.
I pull the cork from this vodka and use it to rinse my mouth out.
"That's the best vodka there is and you're spitting it down the drain."
"There are nine more fucking bottles. Get off my tits!"
"Here, this will make you feel better."
"Fuck me, yes!" I hoist the skull bottle up in triumph. "Oh, hold this." I shove it back into him.
"Gin?"
"It's for Simon. He loves gin."
Negan rolls his eyes. "This ain't a fucking vacation. You're not here to get souvenirs for other men."
"Jealous?"
"Yeah. I fucking am, okay? Where's my goddamn souvenir?"
I didn't plan it this way, but I end up throwing up all over the floor. "There. Wait. There's more."
"Go fucking do that shit in the bathroom!"
"Asshole," I murmur.
I feel a slight tug on my hair.
Negan is putting it up into this rubber band he found. He has a seat on the bathroom floor next to me.
"Why do you keep looking at me like that? Like you're going to cry."
"It's, uh. Deja-fucking-vu. The chemo made her sick like this. Spent more and more days with her face first in the toilet." His brows draw together. "And then she was gone."
"Do you think I'm going to die?"
"I don't know, but if you are there isn't a goddamn thing I can fucking do about it, either."
"Hey, aren't you supposed to be comforting me?"
"She was the strong one. I wasn't. We'd be out at the park or some shit and I'd just start sobbing like some little bitch. She'd get all pissed off and tell me that I was making a scene. I was losing my best friend. I mean, you tell me," he yells. "What was I supposed to fucking do? Act like nothing was wrong? Fucking go about my day like everything was fine fucking fine? Yeah. That's what she did. My stomach used to turn when we'd be apart and the phone would ring. I just knew that it was only a matter of time before I picked it up and it was someone on the other line from the hospital. Formally addressing me by my last fucking name to tell me she was gone."
Negan is always long-winded when he speaks so it's nothing new. It's one of his more annoying qualities. But he's never been this long-winded about Lucille before. I listened to him blame himself for her death for almost an hour. It upset my stomach more than the water. "Do you want affection?"
"No. Just don't make me have to see you turn, too."
"RM?"
"Yeah, huh, what?" I lazily open my eyes. Fuck today sucks. Every time I start to doze off, I'm running to the shitter.
"You need to eat something. Come here. Found some Cheetos in the gas station down the street."
I sit between his legs as he feeds me one of the Cheetos.
"Why do you keep tugging on your stockings?"
"My beauties itch real bad."
"They itch?"
"Yeah, and they burn."
"Shit, that's not good," he sighs. "When did this start?"
"I've been itchy since I woke up."
"Will you show me?"
"No way- oh, no!" I've been itching so much I've ripped another hole in them!
"It's okay, it's a small one."
"Dumpy, my legs are on fire." I push my bottom lip up.
"I gotta see them, RM."
Fine. "Just a little peek. Ouch," I whine as I pull them down. My skin is bumpy and in some parts bloody. "No!" I slap his hand away.
"I won't hurt you. Let me help you."
I shake my head no, raking blood up and down my leg.
"Stop scratching, you're hurting yourself."
"I wanna go home," I whine.
"I know you do, but you're too sick right now."
"Maybe it's chickenpox?"
"You can't get chickenpox more than once."
"My friend Specs had chickenpox seven times. No, wait. Maybe those were his meth scars."
"You ever try meth? Give me your foot."
I hold onto his shoulder and lift up my foot so he can help me. "I tried to cook it once. Burned my goddamn eyebrows off. Singed all my hair almost to the scalp. Even my nose and cheeks were burned. I looked like Lady Elaine Fairchilde from Mister Rogers."
Negan laughs so goddamn hard I think he's going to puke.
"I'm glad you're fucking amused."
"Yeah. I am. Shit. Other foot."
I switch sides. "Any-fucking-way, after that I just had no desire to do a drug that- woah!" I snatch my beauties from him. "What the fuck?! You used that pervert mind power of yours again to get my beauties off!"
"I wasn't trying to trick you. I was trying to distract you."
"I told you they don't like men to touch them!" I huddle in the corner with my back to him.
"I won't touch them. I just want to see your legs to make sure you're alright."
My chest is tight as I sit vulnerable on the floor. "I don't know."
"I'll stop if you don't like it."
I glance at him over my shoulder. "Do you fucking swear you won't talk perverted to me?"
"I know this is fucking hard for you. That look you gave me when I threw them in the fire is not some shit I ever wanna see again."
I slowly inch around to face him and extend my legs out.
His eyebrows furrow as he takes in my skin. "I think it's just a rash. A side effect from the water."
"I'm sorry that I drank that water," I frown.
"I know you are, RM." He runs his fingers in my hair.
It feels real motherfucking nice. Finally, some fucking relief. "Can I put my beauties back on?"
"I think you should leave them off. It will help the rash go away."
"Do you promise you won't look at my hip scars?"
"I'm just gonna put your shorts back on."
"Oh, no!"
"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
"My beauties have blood on them!"
"It's okay, we can wash your beauties."
"We?"
"Well… I mean, I can. If you want. I don't mind. You don't need to be out in the snow anyhow."
I tighten them into a small ball. "Madsen is the only one allowed to touch them."
He gives me a weak smile, nodding his head. "Here, take my gloves and finish your Cheetos. I'm going to go look for supplies."
"Are you mad?" It's a stupid question. Of course, he's upset, but I'm scared. Madsen is all that I've known. Sure, I thought that Richard was fine, but this is different. I'm not acting like myself around Negan. Just the fact that I contemplated giving him my beauties in the first place is a huge step for me. I know he doesn't understand it. To him, he's disappointed. I wish I could just say what I fucking mean. Fuck.
I walk in the restroom where Negan is soaking a rag with alcohol and cleaning his bloody shoulder blade. I can feel my heart in my throat as I start to panic. "Are you okay?"
"Fine."
"But you're bleeding!"
"Why are you up?"
"I'm feeling better today."
His eyes shift in the mirror and I'm given a smile. A real smile this time. "Yeah?"
I do a double take because it's so genuine. I feel important in that moment. Oh, god, fuck. No. Not him. Don't fall for him, RM. "Thanks to you," I flirt. I don't do my eyelash flutter thing. That didn't seem to go over to well with Richard. What are you doing, my inner monologue screams at me. No, stop! "When we get back to Sanctuary, do you want to spend some-"
"Yeah, come on. I wanna be balls deep in a pussy buffet by tomorrow." He bumps into me again on the way out.
"...some time together," I frown. RM, you're so fucking stupid.
"RM, come on!"
"Yeah. Sure..."
I slide my feet up the wall of this shithole dwelling we found for the night, then start to tap my big toes together. Feels good to have my DM's off after the grueling walk today. I could go for one of Madsen's foot rubs. Though I'd rather just skip to what came after it. Me. I snort at my own words. What I'd give for those rough hands catching on my beauties. I loved being on top and teasing him while I slowly accepted his length.
Negan lets out a trapped breath before pulling in another lung full of air.
I turn my head some and notice his eyes glued to my feet. It isn't like I embarrass him when I catch him jerking it because the man has no shame, nor is he showing any signs of stopping. Honestly, I like that about him. That he's not shy to fuck with others in the room. I fucked Madsen a few times while Dominic was passed out on the floor. It really got me going when we were caught. I was always ashamed of that though and played like it pisses me off. Negan seems to get off on it, too. It used to make me laugh when Sherry would be painting her toenails while Negan fucked one of his wives on the lounge across from her. I look back at Negan again as it makes me think.
He's zipping up his pants.
"Do you have a thing for feet, too?"
"Yes."
His honesty after he fires one off catches me off guard.
"But what I really like are feet in stockings. That line across the toe, goddamn!"
"I couldn't tell."
He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "Did I, uh, make you uncomfortable? You didn't stop me, so I figured it was okay."
"No, I don't mind if you look at them."
"You have nice feet, bitch."
"Thanks," I smile.
"Anything I can help you with? Want me to smoke while you play DJ?"
"No, it's okay. That shit's kinda fucking personal for me."
"Damn, that's too motherfucking bad."
I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. Here I bitched at him the other day for talking about sex, and now I'm trying to coax it out of him. Even worse is how his compliments are making me feel good. It's not often I turn other men on. Maybe Negan isn't the best example. It's not hard to turn him on. Speaking of, he's got a decent sized chubby going on again. "What are you thinking about?"
"You rubbing those nylons against my cock. A foot jerk while you're wearing those stockings. Shit, I'd die a happy fuck. I'd probably shoot my load clear over you."
"These beauties wouldn't feel that great. The stars are scratchy."
His face flinches uncomfortably from how hard he is as he tugs on the denim.
Once again I find myself feeling real good that I've worked him up. "Did Lucille wear stockings a lot?"
"No. She did once for my birthday. I was so fucking turned on, I blew my load before I could even get inside her."
"I like talking to you about this stuff."
"Yeah? Didn't you just bitch at me the other day for it?"
"Let me make it up to you." I slam my eyes shut. Jesus, that's a worse pick up line than the ones he has!
"You think you'd let me touch your feet some? I promise I won't go any higher than your ankle."
"You know these beauties don't like men to touch them."
"What if you took them off?"
"No way, never again."
"I won't hurt them."
My eyes shoot over to him. Them? He... he respects their feelings? Jesus Christ, I sound fucking crazy. I am crazy! Or am I? At least I didn't name my stockings Madsen, though I understand why she's personified through the baseball bat. "If I don't like it, you'll stop?"
"I promise. Please," he pouts.
Shit, fuck, shit, fuck! I hate when he does that. Fucking fine. I hop up on the couch, putting my legs over his.
His eyes move down them with a groan. "Goddamn, you have the nicest legs."
"Whose legs are you talking about? Yours? Because I sure as shit don't have anything but kneecaps."
"Shut up, bitch."
"Will you please get this over with?"
"Never mind."
"Well, I was all worked up but then you open your fucking mouth."
"Yeah? I get your stockings wet?"
"Shut up, Negan!"
"I love nothing more than the sound of my own name except when it's coming from you."
"Yeah? You like that nickname dumpy I gave you?"
"At least you were thinking about my cock when you gave it to me."
My toes wiggle when he runs his finger up the middle of my foot.
"Shit that's fucking hot. Will you rub your feet on my face?"
"Okay, this is getting fucking weird. I ain't trying to sit here and shame you for liking what you do, but feet on your face? Seriously?"
"I just... like you, bitch," he murmurs. "And I don't care what part of you is on my face."
"No, shit, you romantic fuck?"
"Just forget it."
"No, wait now. Wait a fucking minute. Shit. You can't just rub your soggy egg roll on me once and expect me to bend over." My toes curl again when his fingers run along the outside of my foot. I clear my throat some. "Better."
"Scoot back."
I move off of him so it's only my feet on his lap.
He takes my left one and starts to massage it. "You gonna help me rebuild my bike so I can get you back on it?"
"I've never done a rebuild before."
"I think you'd be fucking fine," he smirks.
"At least I'd be doing something to contribute. When I was at the Kingdom, I felt useful for the first time in my life."
"You miss it there?"
"Yes."
"Oh." There's a bit of sadness in his voice.
"What did Simon mean when he said that you would offer immunity for three months?"
"It's a long story."
"I have a whole other foot for you to rub. Try me."
"There are communities nearby that give me supplies. In return, we protect them."
"Who died and made you Queen?"
"It's no different than having police. People pay taxes that paid law enforcement. Only I'm the law now, and they pay with supplies. Besides, I'm over a few communities. If they don't like it, I ain't forcing them to stay."
"I was just curious. I'm not judging you."
"Yeah fucking right. You're probably thinking how I'm this tyrant."
"Madsen had zero tolerance for people who owed him drug money. If you didn't pay, you ended up in the ground. People didn't have to buy drugs. It wasn't like he cut off the town's water if they weren't addicts."
"That's a good point, bitch. Just for the record, Cheetos aren't easy to come by."
"Do you really take the other communities Cheetos?"
"Yeah, I do. Other foot," he laughs. "What's that look for?"
"I don't do anything for you, yet you treat me like a wife. Protection. Food. Point immunity."
"I want you to focus on staying clean. Learn how to read. You can't do that worrying about fucking points."
"You wasted all this time and gas looking for me."
"Well, I fucked up as you put it. Figured I owed you."
Fuck that feels so fucking good. Those big hands against my beauties. He's keeping his word about not going any higher.
"Unless you wanna forgive me." He circles his index finger around my ankle. "I wanna fuck you in just these stockings so bad."
My eyes close as he applies pressure to the arch on my foot.
His other hand snakes his way to my shorts.
I watch him flick open the button, and I even lift up some to help get them off.
He unzips his pants and pulls himself free.
Fuck. I wanted to tell him no, but I can't speak the words. Shit, since when am I speechless? Oh, it's not what I thought though.
Negan encases himself using my feet, moving them up and down. "Fuck," he moans.
Oh, shit, not that moaning fuckery. This is so strange using my feet like some kind of nylon sausage wallet, but he's so fucking turned on.
There are a few times he has to stop and catch his breath. "Fuck. You wanna fuck?"
I part my legs some and give him a shy nod.
That long body wastes no time stretching over me.
I watch everything he does as if he's going to disappear at any moment and he'll be one of them. Digging their filthy nails into my hips.
Aren't you a peach, baby girl?
No! I'm not your baby! I'm no one's baby!
Negan lowers his head and sighs.
It pulls me away from Mama's house and back to the present. "What's wrong?"
"Really? You're going to ask me what's wrong? You're fucking lying there with this look on your face like I'm about to rape you!"
I didn't realize it was that obvious. "I'm just nervous, okay?"
"Yeah, right. Since when have you been one to be fucking reserve? You fucking whore that pussy out any chance you get."
"Wait, I-"
"Don't worry. Message fucking received. I won't ask to fuck again. I won't even touch you."
I sit up and grab his bicep. "Negan-"
He shoves me off him. "Same goes for you, cunt. Keep your fucking hands off me."
"I'm sorry!" I know he's fucking angry, but it's more than that. Negan hates sexual violence, and the fact that I've made him feel like he's forcing himself on me is a terrible feeling. I try to explain myself but he tells me to shut the fuck up. Oh, no! What have I done?!
Things between Negan and me got worse. If I was too cold, he told me to walk fucking faster. If I was tired, he forced me to keep going. If I was scared, he told me to get the fuck over it. I couldn't wait to get home, and after the fifth day we finally fucking arrive. I see relief on Simon's face before he kneels. Fucking stupid.
"Good to see you're back, Sir."
"RM, come on," Negan gripes.
"I need to talk to Simon. Go slam the clam and leave me the fuck alone."
"Fucking bitch," Negan mutters.
Finally. His bad mood was bringing me down. "Hi, you cute Cheeto," I smile.
"You just couldn't wait to leave us again, huh?"
"It sucked out there. I got sick from water and almost shit my beauties. Oh, I got you something. Here." I hand over the bottle of gin.
Simon seems confused then looks over his shoulder. "I can't take this."
"But you like gin. I remember because no one likes gin. That's why there was so much of it."
"It wouldn't be right."
"If you're worried about dingus he already knows."
"Oh. Well, in that case," he smiles. "This, uh, sounds weird, but no one's ever given me anything so sorry if you were expecting a better reaction."
"I understand. I'm not used to gift things either."
"No one to spoil you before the outbreak?"
"Well, sometimes the owner of the strip club would let me have clothes the girls didn't want."
"You're a little young to be a stripper."
I snort. "Me? In heels? And underwear string up my clammy loaves? That's funny. My mom was the stripper."
"Anywhere near here?"
"I don't even know where here is. It was the Velvet Clam."
"No shit? What's your mom's name?"
"Rebel."
His eyebrow peaks as he rubs the back of his neck.
I hold my knees and bellow out a laugh. "You fucked my mom!" Well, then again who didn't she fuck? Damn, too bad I didn't meet Simon then.
"I did a lot of coke back then. It was a weird time."
"Coke? Did you know my Madie?"
"Madsen?"
Just hearing him say that name brings tears to my eyes.
"Madsen was a real decent dude."
Yeah. Was. I frown, looking up some to keep my tears from falling. I feel stupid.
"When I first met Negan, for a second I thought he was the same guy. Is that why you're a wife?"
I shake my head no.
"Madsen was kinda old for you, don't you think?"
"Age is fucking stupid. He still got it up twice a day. And his body was so fucking fine." Fuck. Now I'm all worked up.
"You better get going. They'll be out here soon to play that soccer game you hate."
Well, shit. There goes my boner.
"Thanks for the gin."
"Anytime," I smile, starting inside. Much to my surprise, dingus here is waiting on me. "What's the look for?"
He angrily points upstairs.
I don't know why he waited. Maybe he's jealous of Simon and me? Though it sure didn't seem that way because as soon as we get upstairs he doesn't even shower before he's balls deep in the first bitch wrinkle that's willing. I can't describe what it's like watching him so into her, meanwhile, he can't even stand to let me touch him. Still no shower when he comes back to his room. He dives face first right onto his bed. Half his body is still hanging off of it. "Fuck you," I murmur.
Negan is stooped over on his bed when I wake up.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine. My shoulder is a little sore." He keeps trying to twist his body as if he's going to be able to see it.
What an idiot. "Let me look at it." At least his back isn't hairy. "Oh, gnarly, man. It's oozing fucking white and yellow shit."
He wipes the beaded sweat collecting on his brow.
"We'll probably have to amputate."
Negan doesn't even crack a smile.
"Dumpy?" I wave my hand in front of his face. Uh, shit! "I'll go get help." I figured Sherry would know what to do, but she's not in the parlor. Maybe something like this I should just get the doctor for.
"You again. What now?"
"It's Negan, he's like, really sick looking!"
The doctor doesn't seem too concerned until he actually sees Negan's back.
Negan didn't tell me but he was stabbed by one of those men that flipped his bike. The infected wound has now turned into sepsis. "No," I whine, pushing the needle away from his arm. What the hell kind of syringe is this?
"Move. I need to administer antibiotics through an IV."
"RM, get out of the fucking way," Negan groans.
Oh. I thought it was drugs… "Sorry. I'm just trying to help."
"Go sit fucking down."
"Okay," I frown, going over to my pallet. I watch everything, not understanding any of it. When we're finally left alone, Negan doesn't speak to me. "Can I get you anything?" Don't really know why I asked.
I tried to do my part for Negan. He keeps having these hallucinations. He's called me Lucille twice. None of his wives even cared that Negan could basically die at any moment. Fuck. His bandage is bleeding again. "Can somebody please help me?"
"Take one too many pills this time," nympho wife responds, flipping the page of her magazine.
I rip that motherfucker from her hands and take it into the bathroom. Just as I'm finishing peeing she comes into the bathroom. I tear the article and use it as toilet paper.
"I was reading that, bitch!"
"Oh, how motherfucking rude of me." I hand the article back to her.
"Sherry," she yells.
What the fuck is Sherry gonna do? God, I fucking hate how they always run to Sherry. Then again, that bitch does have one hell of a right hook. Hmm. Maybe I should give the magazine back before I end up with glass in my goddamn eye again.
"RM, give her the magazine."
I give it back because this isn't about me and my anger for this dumb bitch wrinkle. "Will someone help me now? Negan's bandage is bleeding."
"He's fine," Sherry tells me.
"The doctor said we need to change his bandag-"
"Then fucking change them," dumber yells at me.
"And go back to his room. No one wants you here. You're a fucking charity case." Nympho wife goes back to her bed.
"Fuck you! Fuck all you cunts, okay? This isn't about me. This is about him. Has anyone bothered to check on him? He might die."
"RM, stop! You're upsetting the girls."
I yank my wrist from Sherry. "Sherry, remember when all your scrapbook stuff got ruined by the water from the hole in the roof and Negan stayed up all night to cut out more of that shit for you?"
"Are you kidding? He made an even bigger mess and manage to glue two of the pages together that weren't ruined!"
"Well, dumb and dumber, remember when you both had the bugs in your hair and he helped get them out with that small brush?"
"He bitched the entire time," they shout in unison.
"Amber, he got you that fucking mongrel even though he's allergic to dogs!"
"Don't think he's not waiting for the chance to get rid of it!"
"I don't understand! Negan might be a motherfucker, but he's our motherfucker. If it was any one of us with sepsis he wouldn't have left our sides and, knowing him, he'd beat himself up over it because he'd blame himself for it."
"If one of us gets shot, it would be his fault, stupid bitch." Nympho wife rolls her eyes.
I'm so fucking upset right now, I can't stand to be around them. I quietly shut his door. His breathing sounds awful. I pull the bloody disgusting bandage from his back and try to get the other one to stay, but it keeps falling. I press it to his back and hold it there until morning. The doctor couldn't have come a minute sooner because my eyes are so heavy.
He makes it look so easy using this white tape to secure a new one in place.
I wiggle my fingers to try and get the feeling back in them. "Will he wake up soon?"
"I'm not a mind reader."
"Well, I'm just-"
The door is slammed shut.
"...worried," I murmur.
I walk across Negan's bed carefully with this cup of hot Raymond's soup for him. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, but I didn't spill it on him. "Dumpy, are you awake?" I set the soup on the end table. "Dumpy, will you wake up now?" I... I'm starting to freak out. What if this fucker dies? He can't die! "Please!"
Nothing.
I nudge him a bit.
Nothing.
Even a few tugs on his hairy churro doesn't do anything. Damn. He's left me all alone like Madsen did. My eyes well up as I shake my head. "I hate you for dying on me!" I start to feel bad. This is my fault! I asked him to take me for a ride on that stupid bike. I pull on the skin of his eyelid. "Will you wake up?" As I let go, it moves back in place. He's still burning up when I touch his cheek. Here Negan took care of me when I drank that bad water and I can't even do anything for him! I lay down with my back to him. It takes all my strength, but I move his arm over me. I feel like I'm being crushed, but it's okay. His chest hair is itchy as I try to get even closer against it. I don't sleep much that night. How can I?
I was losing my best friend.
Yeah. That's how I feel right now.
I'm cold when I wake. The bed is vacant. Vacant? I twist myself around to see him sitting on the couch putting on his boots. He's awake? He's alive!
I wrap my arms around his neck.
"Stop," he snaps annoyed. "Jesus fucking Christ, get a hold of your-fucking-self."
"I thought you died!" I press my lips to his ear.
"Fucking stop. It's turning me on."
I pull away some, rocking back on his hips. There are about twenty things I wanna tell this fucker.
His eyes trail my jawline to my lips, then slowly meet mine. "Thought I told you not to touch me?"
"Is that what you really want?" I can't read his face right now. "I've been really worried about you."
He inches me closer by the small of my back. "Worried?"
I nod feeling the heat rush to my cheeks.
His lip tugs upward, coiling in some devilish grin.
I feel a pull on my shorts.
He's unbuttoned them, and eases down my zipper.
"Sir," the doctor starts. "Your vitals."
He rolls his eyes annoyed. "Stay here. Fuck! You, get out of my room."
Negan sits on one of the lounges in the parlor while the doctor takes his vitals.
I sit with my back against his door frame. It takes for fucking ever, but he's going to be okay. What… what's Negan doing? But... I push my eyebrows together watching dumb and dumber all over him, followed by nympho wife. I'm a fool. I can't really be mad, I mean given his choices of course he'd pick three over one. God, he is all about them. His greedy lips touch all of them. Hands, too. I've never felt this fucking shitty before. This rejected. This pathetic. I watch the whole thing knowing that should be me.
Negan doesn't seem to care who he's spilling into right now. He leans back, catching his breath.
"We were all so worried about you."
"Liars," I whisper bitterly.
The girls curl up with him, and it's clear he's not moving from that spot tonight.
I can't bring myself to say how full of shit they are because I've never seen a smile that big across his face and even though he wouldn't admit it I think it would really hurt his feelings if he knew how they didn't give a fuck about him. Instead, I pick myself up and quietly close his door so I can get a full night's worth of sleep. I try to curl up with my aliens. They're cold. There are no smiles on their faces. They don't have any itchy body hair. No heavy limbs to squash me with. Worst of all, not an annoying snicker or word.
