Holy hell, the goddamn woman was gonna be the absolute death of him. What the fucking undead roaming the world outside, a buncha asshole shitheads over at Oceanside, and this world, in general, couldn't do, this woman was. It wasn't like she did shit intentionally, either.

No, Fin just tended to set off aches inside him that throbbed longer and harder than a bad tooth. No woman since his Lucille had managed to stir him up like this one did. She didn't even have to try to turn him on. One itty bitty smile from her cute lil' ass was enough to have him hard as a rock.

The curling of one of her small hands behind his neck and sliding that body he itched to explore up against his before pressing those lips to his was almost enough to have his head explode.

Both of 'em.

He was the one who usually did the kissing. With his other wives, it was his choice to kiss them. With Fin, it was because she abso-fucking-lutely refused to kiss him. Well, he amended as he slid one arm around her waist and changed the angle of the kiss. She told him she wouldn't kiss him until he got rid of his other wives. Until today.

Somewhere between the time he woke up to right before she knocked him on his ass she had undergone a reversal on her stance about not kissing him until he met her conditions. He was wise enough to realize it wasn't because Fin had finally accepted he wasn't gonna get rid of Frankie, Tanya, Amber or any of the other wives who served him.

That would be too goddamn easy for her to do. And Fin wasn't one thing: easy. No, she was just as opinionated as she was hard-headed.

Hell, he respected that about her.

Fin was easily the most complex woman he had ever met. She waded into a shitty situation, bold as brass, confident as a goddamn Amazon, and fearlessly fierce as any lioness defending her pride.

Yet, there were these sorta moments, the more intimate ones, where she was awkward and shy, hesitant to embrace or indulge her more carnal nature, and almost afraid that if she let herself be more uninhibited that it would somehow be used against her. After the shit she told him went on between her mother and father he could understand why she struggled with intimacy.

He figured out a long ass time ago that Fin came with baggage. A whole lotta fucking baggage. She was just as damaged as him when he broke shit down to its core. Her family fucked her up in ways he didn't think she even realized.

Or really dealt with.

Getting her to face the bullshit in her closet when he hadn't confronted his own wasn't fair. He knew it wasn't. However, she needed to tackle that shit and lay it the fuck to rest. Why? The truth — that he only admitted to himself — was that he didn't want her to become as twisted as he was. He didn't want to see her name a baseball bat after her mother and go around cracking skulls with it.

Fin was the better of them and he wanted her to stay that way.

She wouldn't go and screw a whole buncha men just because life was better for it. The thought of how she could if she so chose rolled through his mind and got rejected. Fin wasn't like him. She didn't have the same view he did about sex. He still didn't see any reason or need to live by the same old rules. His opinion hadn't changed about that. Why deny himself a slice of pie today when he could die tomorrow?

He liked women. Hell, he admitted they — along with violence — were his drugs of choice. He made time in his day to screw at least one of his wives. Two or three if he was feeling especially hungry. He also hadn't made it any secret about how much he would love Fin becoming one of those wives he spent a leisurely afternoon balls deep in. Pleasuring her cute lil' ass was one goal he had for however long he had left on this truly fucked up planet.

However, he couldn't deny that the second her lips met his that things inside him shifted. All the bullshit rolling around inside his head quieted. The guilt dogging him since Lucille came back as one of them undead fucks settled into a dull ache, and the grief became less vicious.

He felt alive.

Cold where her breath whisked over his too tight skin. Hot in the belly where shit like want and need tended to begin. For a moment, just one, he actually felt like he could be the kind of man Fin deserved. Honest, decent, committed to her and only her. The kind of man he had been when he married Lucille.

The man he had been until something broke inside him and convinced him it was okay to lie and screw around on his wife.

This woman tugged at him in ways he had not thought possible. He had thought himself dead after Lucille died. Did he love Fin? He didn't think so. Did he feel something for her that went beyond his deep and abiding wish to lose himself inside her for a few pleasurable hours?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

He missed her when she was gone. He missed their teasing banter, their heated debates, their quiet conversations about this fucked up mess they were living in.

Having her here with him the last few days, having her sleeping beside him, having her turn to him when the demons hounding her became too much for her to bear settled him in ways he hadn't been since this shit mess started.

Knowing a woman as strong as this one needed him, that she relied on him when she felt scared or alone, and that she cared enough about him to assert her role as his queen and protector did something to his heart.

It caused it to beat.

And that scared him shitless.

Quiet sounds of need hummed in Fin's throat and pulsed in his blood. Her skin felt like hot satin beneath his hands and shot a plethora of tantalizingly erotic images through his brain. The kind that had his mouth-watering, his fingers itching, and his balls tingling.

If not for the kid in the room, he'd back Fin up against the wall and indulge in some long overdue hanky-panky.

"Fin." Drowning in her scent, her taste, and churning near desperate with want, he broke the kiss. "Goddamn it, Fin." He lowered his forehead to hers. And struggled to keep control of his body's demands. "If the kid wasn't here and there wasn't a shit show waiting for me below, I'd push you up against that goddamn wall and..."

A knock on the door and Fat Joey calling, "Boss?" interrupted the rest of he was gonna say.

Not that Fin didn't have a good damn idea of what they'd be doing if the kid and that obese bastard hadn't interrupted. He grumbled a few inarticulate things under his breath and swore to make life miserable for that rotund sonuvabitch.

Fin just smiled at him, those huge eyes dark and promising a plethora of sensual delights. She gave him another quick kiss before stepping back.

"Don't forget Lucille."

Not that he needed the reminder. He never forgot his Lucille. She was the first thought on his mind when he woke up, and the last thing before he fell asleep. He retrieved the bat from where she rest by the chair, shot a wink and a playful grin at the silent Jordan before looking at Fin.

"Remember what I said," he told her as he strode for the door. "And keep that fucking walkie handy."

Because soon as this shit is done, he told her silently, you are bringing your cute lil' ass back here and finishing what the fuck you started.

And damn if those big green eyes weren't just promising that he would get to cart her off to some nice, quiet little corner and screw her until his dick broke off inside her. Not that the goddamn woman would admit that was exactly what she wanted him to do. Hell no. Be too easy. And Fin and easy went together about as well as smart and Fat Joey.

"Please," she said in a soft, tremulous voice. "Be careful. Come back to us unharmed."

Her sweet concern, her worry for his safety, and her entreaty for him to come back unharmed was almost his undoing. Emotion, pure sentiment, threatened to swamp him. Pride kept his voice steady.

"I'll be fine." He leaned down, touched his lips to her forehead. "Just get yours and the kid's asses to the Hilltop."

"I will."

"And don't fucking stop to smell the daisies." He stared into her eyes. "Straight there, Fin. Understand?"

"Yes." Her hand came up to rest against his cheek. "Do you understand when I say come back to me it means unharmed?"

The macho side of him wanted to roll his eyes. The other side of him, the one talking way too much shit for his liking, softened.

As it often did when it came to this woman.

"Yeah, I fucking get it."

Only silently did he add, It doesn't matter what the fuck happens to me, baby doll. Long as you don't gotta see or do this shit is all that matters. That part he didn't tell her. The less Fin knew about his changing feelings for her, the more comfortable and in control he felt.

"I mean it, Negan." Her fingers trembled against his cheek. "Delegate if you have too. But you be safe."

"You're worryin' yourself into a state for no goddamn reason, darlin'."

"Promise me." The urgency in her voice told him louder than words how agitated she was. "Promise me that you will come back to me."

"Stop." He pressed another kiss to her forehead before looking at the boy who crept over during their exchange. His heart hitched at what he was about to do to the kid. Part of him wanted to reach out and reassure Jordan but he knew now wasn't the time. Comfort would have to come later. "You keep him fucking safe, Fin."

Not that he needed to even ask her that. When it came to protecting kids, Fin was like a mama bear.

"I will."

He exited the room before doing or saying anything else that would give away just how much her words had affected him. He shot a dirty look at Fat Joey, who cringed away from him, and headed downstairs.

"Have the empty storage rooms by the cell checked," he told Simon, who magically materialized at his side. Where he had been or why he was even there at the Sanctuary didn't matter at that moment. "And be fucking careful when opening the doors."

"Why?" Simon questioned as he fell into step with him. "What are we looking for? And what the fuck is going on with that little deaf runt? I heard he was stealing shit and giving it out to assholes who refuse to work for points. I'd give the iron to all of 'em. Teach 'em a real fucking lesson about not following the rules."

Anger simmered below the balls of unease in his belly. Who the fuck did Simon think he was talking to here? Not for the first time, and Negan assumed it wouldn't be the last, he wondered how loyal Simon actually was to him. There was a devious, underhanded quality to the man that made him perfect as his right hand. However, it also made him a potential threat to his leadership.

Fin had warned him not long after they met to watch out for Simon, said he was merely biding his time before he'd try to off his ass and take over as leader. As if that shit will ever fucking happen, he thought as he scowled at the man. I will shut that shit down before he even gets a hold of whatever balls he has dangling between his legs.

"I wouldn't fucking piss me off right now," he warned as he turned a corner. "I'm seriously not in the mood for any more goddamn bullshit today."

"That deaf brat gotta be punished," Simon insisted. "He can't get away with breaking the rules. It will just convince some of these other assholes to ignore shit and do whatever the fuck they want."

Negan's fingers tightened on Lucille's smooth handle. Holy hell, but he wanted nothing more than to swing her at the sonuvabitches head for suggesting he burn the face of a kid. Abso-fucking-lutely no way was that shit gonna happen. Simon could go fuck himself before he'd ever agree to put an iron to Jordan's face.

Silently, he acknowledged the real reason why he felt so protective of Jordan. He and Lucille tried to adopt a deaf boy about his age but were turned down because the agency didn't feel a home with two hearing parents was the best for the boy.

Even the fact that he knew basic American Sign Language and was willing to go back for more classes hadn't made a damn bit of difference. It was as if the world took away one opportunity because it knew that there was another kid waiting who would need him more.

"I've already decided that Jordan won't be punished," he informed Simon coldly. "I heard what his reasons for taking the shit was and it satisfies me that he wasn't doing it for gain."

"Am I allowed to ask what his reason for stealing shit was?"

"Tamika and her little girl got fucking sick," Negan told him. "He was taking shit to her and Yasmine."

Little Yasmine, he thought now as he turned into the area where the empty storage rooms were. With the light green eyes that always fucking sparkled, and them tight, springy curls framing a dark halo around her angelic face. His belly clenched as what he'd have to do loomed closer and closer.

He would bear this burden, though.

He could handle it.

He was strong enough to carry the weight of responsibility for him and Fin both. She doesn't need to see this shit, he decided as he released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Far as he was concerned, Fin's days of wading into situations like this were over.

He was there to handle shit now.

"Shit," Simon breathed out. "You thinking they're turned?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I think they've turned."

"Know about when?"

"Last hour or two."

He saw Simon turn to say something to one of his nitwits from the corner of his eye. Murmurs and other yammering cropped up as shit rolled down the line, but he paid none of it any attention. His gaze remained firmly fixed upon the door at the end of the hall.

Even from here, he could hear their inarticulate groans, the snapping of jaws and ligaments, the clawing of nails against the backs of the doors, and the spasmodic gait as the fucks moved around in the tiny rooms they died in.

It was worse, much fucking worse than what he imagined. It wasn't just Tamika and Yasmine who got sick and turned. It was at least a handful of others who also got infected.

And the kid moved them all here when he saw they were fucking sick, he thought as the truth settled over him like a blanket. He thought he was isolating them until they could get better. Like Doc fucking Carson did when the last virus went through the Sanctuary.

"Holy fucking shit." The horror and disgust in their voice echoed what was inside his own heart. "We got us a goddamn epidemic on our hands."

"How'n hell didn't anybody know this shit was going on?" Came from someone else. "Ain't nobody been paying attention to things?"

It was the one question that Negan himself wanted to have answered. He waited as patiently as he could for someone to reply. However, Simon interceded before an answer got offered.

"Fan out," he ordered. "Check all the fucking rooms."

"And put the fucks down," Negan added. "Mercifully."

He then made his way down the hall after issuing that command. It was cold. It was cruel. This world was both. The weak didn't last long. Not without men like him to keep them from dying. Most people thought he was a heartless bastard. He could be. He admitted it. He cared about his people, though. He did. Everything got done with the sole purpose of seeing them all survive.

The talk dwindled down, replaced by an eerie sort of calm. Within the span of ten seconds, the noise of surprise, of shock and dismay transitioned into one of business. Revulsion and rage got replaced with calm. His men had done this shit before. There was no learning curve at work here.

It was the law of the land.

None of them enjoyed what was about to happen. Not a goddamn one of them was looking forward to having to shoot or stab one of their own. It was necessary for the survival of the rest of their people. All of them accepted that. All of them knew that this was what they needed to do to survive.

Some of the men spread out as they moved down the hall, calmly reaching for hatchets and hunting knives while others pumped shells into shotgun breeches or raised the muzzles of pistols or revolvers.

They paired off in teams of three or four and readied themselves for whatever might come out of those doors once they opened. Negan paused in front of the door at the end of the hall. The big gray door. The one that hid the greatest tragedy of all.

"Be fucking ready," he said over his shoulder. "Be fucking vigilante."

Low murmurs indicated their acknowledgment of his words. He reached for the doorknob at the same time as the others behind him, heard the click as the tumbler slid free. He nudged the door open with fingers that tingled with nerves and anxiety, not wanting to see either Tamika or Yasmine shuffling towards him.

The figure tottering around inside the storage room was small, her once mocha colored skin now a sickly shade of yellow, her springy curls dull and lifeless. She turned to him and he saw the front of her pajamas soaked in blood. Her lips were smeared with it. And her big eyes, once the same shade of green as Jordan's, were now fixed and glazed.

It was Yasmine.

Fucking fuckity fuck, Negan thought as Lucille dropped down to hang at his side. Part of him had hoped he would find them before they came back. No such fucking luck.

Sick to the core of his being, and hating this world even more than he already did, he passed Lucille to Fat Joey and took hold of the knife the rotund bastard held out to him.

"Sorry, angel," he murmured as he stepped forward.

A/N: Hello, all! Hope that the week has been good to you!