A/N You're not going to be proud of Negan this chapter, but I did want to hold true to Negan's backstory as much as possible.
For some reason, giving Lucille the divorce papers really tore me up.
"She's important to you."
"Lucille, she is not the reason our marriage didn't work out. Do we really want to drag ourselves through another ten years of this shit? Only speaking to each other to fight?"
"Isn't there any part of you that still loves me?"
I don't even answer before she becomes sick out of nowhere and throws up on the floor. "The hell? What did you eat?"
"Nothing yet."
"Probably nerves." But it doesn't seem like nerves when she grabs her stomach.
"Are you… pregnant?"
"No, I've taken a few tests and they're all negative. That's what I thought it was, too. It's why I left him. I just felt even worse."
When she says, that's why I left him, it just sends me into this blinding rage because she acts like I should be proud of her for choosing me over him. Anger aside, this is still my wife. And to answer her question, "yes. There is a part of me that loves you. Come on, let's get you to the doctor."
We sit in the waiting room, her cold hand tucked into mine. I offer her the hand warmers and she takes them. No. No, don't do this to me now. Don't make me feel guilty for leaving my wife. For as long as I've known Lucille, she's been a bitch. Hell, it's what attracted me to her in the first place because it makes for some awesome fucking.
"How many times do you think we've had sex in that bathroom over there?"
I give her a breathed laugh. "Six, and I'm counting the time I was so sick I couldn't catch my breath to finish."
She rests her head on my shoulder. "We had a good run, right?"
"Yeah," I struggle to say. "The best." I lean my head against hers as my eyes well up. I notice she's wearing her wedding ring again. "I don't even know where mine is," I comment, tracing hers.
She tugs out a necklace with it on it. "I keep it. Usually with mine on it." She unhooks it from her neck and takes the band off. It's slid on my finger. "Just while we're here."
"Ok."
"Then when we go home, I'll sign the papers."
"Lucille?" The nurse calls.
"We need a minute," I tell the nurse. I take Lucille into the bathroom and fuck her goddamn brains out. I don't care who heard. Who watched. How much trouble we got in. The ticket I was given. It was the best sex I have ever had.
"I love you, Negan."
"I love you, too. Let's get you fixed up."
She stops to give me a kiss that I return.
"Maybe we can do that counseling."
"Alright," I say.
The doctor tells Lucille it's just a nasty virus. Not their exact words, but I'm not paying attention. I was thinking about Vin. This is for the best. You helped her. She's able to make her rent. She has a job. The way you left things are fucked up, but she's a strong girl. She'll bounce back, and find someone that is ten times better than you are.
At least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself over the next week. Just the thought of Vin with another man infuriates me. Especially bearded wonder. How did I even end up in this situation? In love with Lucille, but care for Vin enough to question that love for Lucille.
Therapy is a fucking joke. We went twice this week, but it's not doing anything because I don't want it to do anything. Then when I imagine Lucille signing those papers, I always try a little harder.
"Call in today," Lucille says, kissing my neck as we lay in bed.
"I can't call in. I'm the coach," I laugh, tilting my head back to enjoy her lips. She's anything but affectionate. It's actually one of the things I've always liked about her. I'm not one for that touchy feely bullshit either, but this is nice.
"Tell me about her," Lucille says, her finger trailing the contours of my chest. "This other woman. Is she like me?"
"She's nothing like you."
"Maybe I do have a chance against her..."
"Lucille, stop. I'm in bed with you, aren't I? We're going to counseling. You know where I'm at every minute of the day. I wear my wedding ring."
"Do you think about her?"
I sigh and sit up.
"I'm sorry."
"Then why fucking ask?"
"Because you might be physically here, but you're not here, Negan. Probably off fucking her in your mind."
"Fuck you, that's bullshit." Is it, though? "Why is it always what I'm doing fucking wrong? Why is it always me?"
"Just fucking go to work then. Forget it."
I am so fucking done with arguing. I've had it. I need my head clear for today's game.
I walk into the teacher's lounge and open the fridge. I pull out my 114 ounce ketchup with the pump on it and set it on the table. Sometimes I wonder why I don't just put a straw in the ketchup and drink it. I guess having the fries make me feel less disgusting. My greasy hands reach for the newspaper on the table. The other day I actually had to tell one of these little shits what a newspaper was. He just looked at me like I was stupid when I said the original android.
I choke on my food, getting it all over the newspaper. However, what I want on it is saved. Vin is in the paper for her efforts on helping the homeless. I bring the paper closer to my face because the picture is small, but it's her. I shut her completely out of my life two weeks ago while tending to Lucille and trying to fix things in my marriage. Vin could have stayed in bed and cried over me, but she didn't.
I have a seat in my office and pick up the phone to call her motel room.
"I should make you wait two weeks before I pick up."
"I know I should have said something to you and I'm sorry. I've been really busy and I have a game today-"
"Don't let me keep you then."
I pull the phone away from my ear confused when she hangs up. "Fuck!"
I'm almost ejected from the game. I feel like shit which is making my players play like shit. I can't let them down because I had a bad day. A bad day that I am one hundred percent at fault for.
"Coach, do you need to borrow my glasses? That call was terrible."
My eyes shoot up towards the fence.
Vin has her arms folded across the top of the short chain link with a smile.
My eyebrows furrow at the sight. I don't fucking deserve her standing here right now. The money she didn't have that she's wasted on a taxi ride here could have been used on so many other things. I've asked Lucille since I started at the school to come to my games and she refuses. She says she doesn't like baseball. It's not about baseball. It's about having a support system. A support system that looks back at me that shouldn't be right now. I know what I have to do. No more lies. No more sneaking around. I'm going to be honest with her after the game, then fill out those divorce papers. I doubt she'll want anything to do with me after, but I can't keep living two lives.
I walk over to her and give her my best attempt to look pathetic. "You forgive me?"
"For now."
Fuck, isn't that the truth. I guess I'll just try to enjoy this last little bit.
With my head back in the game, we win. Maybe that's an arrogant thing to say. I didn't do anything, they did. This win puts us in the playoffs. I've waited for this moment since I began coaching, but nothing feels as good as seeing Vin waiting for me on the bleachers.
"Show me around," she smiles.
"You just want to see the food collection bin." Maybe stalling was more for me. I know I told myself that I was going to be honest with her, but I'd like to be honest with her after I'm honest about fucking her against my desk. Now… how do I get her to my office? Think, Negan. "Do you want to see my office?" Real motherfucking smooth.
"I thought that's where we were going?" Her eyes trailing my ass in these baseball pants do not help.
I drop the keys twice trying to open my door, but I don't think she minds. My eyes skim the hall before I go inside and lock the door. Be fucking cool, man. There's nothing fucking cool about a boner in baseball spandex.
"What are you doing with the door?"
"Nothing in particular. Just avoiding turning around with this big fat fucking chubby." I look over my shoulder to see her scooting up on my desk. Fuck it.
"Oh, my." Her eyes shoot up. "That's not a lowercase I at all."
When, in my fucking pathetic life, have I been nervous to fuck? "Yep. So. That's my penis." I slam my eyes shut at the use of a medical term. You fucking idiot. I rub the back of my neck. "Look. There's something that I want to talk to you about."
Vin scoots off the desk and starts for the door.
"Wait, please."
"I'm so stupid to throw myself at you as many times as I have. You're obviously not interested."
"I am interested in you! Fuck. Do you know what I would give up to fuck you right now on that desk?" You don't because I still haven't fucking told you about Lucille. "Goddamn." I run my hands over my face.
"You're married?!" She pulls my wrist towards her when she sees my wedding ring.
Oh, fucking fuck me.
"Is this new? Is this why you've been avoiding me for two weeks?"
"No, I've been married for ten years." Just keep putting that kerosene on the fire, Negan. I try with everything I've got to explain to Vin how Lucille and I are over. How I've filed for divorce. Her affairs. My affairs.
"That's what I am!? An affair?"
"No, Christ, no. Jesus. Vin, I'm leaving Lucille for you. Because I want to be with you and I don't want to have to hide shit anymore. Please, I know you're hurt, and I expect you to be, but do not let this be the last time I see you." I'm sure I've lost this woman before she was even mine with how long it took her to respond. As luck would fucking have it, right as she started to say something there's a knock on the door.
"Negan? Open the door."
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, no! Lucille.
Vin's eyes widen.
I nod my head yes to Vin's look wondering if that's my wife. "Under the desk," I mouth, helping Vin.
Once she's under there, I fix the chair back in place and then the things that Vin knocked over on my desk.
"Hello?"
"I'm coming." I take a deep breath and open the door. "What?"
"Are you going to fucking let me in or what?"
I step out of the way and my stomach drops when she goes near the desk.
"Shut the door."
I am so fucked right now. Please, god, please let this woman say something that will show Vin that-
"I know you've always wanted to fuck me in your office, Coach."
Goodbye, Vin.
Lucille hikes up her skirt and sits on my desk. She's not wearing any panties.
Of course she's not. I know that I'm a monster when I actually consider fucking Lucille. I've already lost Vin. Do I really want to end up alone? No, I don't. So I fuck Lucille on the desk. It was so cold. So empty. I just keep imagining Vin under that desk, staring at Lucille's tresses that are hanging off the edge. I'm so thankful Lucille comes because I go limp.
"Uh."
"Please," I beg. I don't want to fight about this, too. I have never felt more emasculated that I do right now.
"Well, thanks for mine," she smiles. "I'm sorry about this morning. I love you. I'll see you at home."
I turn my attention to the desk when the door closes to see Vin's head poked up.
Her trembling hands gripping the desk. Her eyes as big as her glasses. Tears streaming down her face.
"I don't know what to say."
"Fuck you, you fucking fuck," she screams, getting up and slapping me across the face. Not once, but several times. "Did I fucking use the fuck word fucking right this time?"
"Vin-"
"Don't ever come near me again, or I will call the police!"
So what do I do? Go after her. Day by fucking day I try to work things out until a week later there is a knock at my front door.
"Mustang Sally," the officer starts. "We got a call saying you've been harassing a woman-"
"I just want to talk to her."
"Well, she doesn't want to talk to you. If this continues, she'll file a restraining order. We take that stuff pretty serious. I know you have a habit of breaking the law. Am I going to have problems with you? Perhaps I'll take you downtown right now. High schools tend to frown on their staff spending time in jail while being employed."
If I get a restraining order filed on me that will fuck everything up at the school. Fuck, I can't lose my job. After everything I've lost… my work is the only thing from putting a shotgun in my mouth. "No," I frown. "We won't have any problems." As I close the door behind him, Lucille asks who that was. I just can't take it anymore. All these lies. I'm angry. Hurt. And I don't even have the fucking right to be.
I tell Lucille that Vin was under the desk while I fucked her.
"Get the fuck out, Negan."
"And go fucking where!?"
"Go to that whore."
"She's not a whore," I snap, knocking framed photos off the wall. "Whore? Fucking pot calling the kettle black. I'm not leaving my own home, Lucille. If you don't like it, get the fuck out!"
"You fucking asshole."
"You act fucking surprised," I snarl, stopping up the steps. Everyone always acts fucking surprised that I'm an asshole!
