Alone.
That's what she felt, even as she awoke with sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window and she was swathed in the warmth of Negan's body and arms. It was the very first thing she felt. Not fear, not even disgust- it was just the utter feeling of being alone. Being abandoned. It was such a clear and painful image of Tenth forgetting her and moving on, that being here, in this bed with this man, was becoming much more preferable than going back to someone that moved on so quickly.
Michelle wasn't entirely sure how long she'd been awake before Negan began to stir. Before she knew it, he was taking a deep breath as his eyes began to blink open, seeing her right before him bringing a slow and lazy smile to his lips.
"Mornin' baby," he muttered, voice groggy and still heavy with sleep. Bringing up a hand, his fingers brushed back a strand of her hair. "How'd the sleeping beauty rest?"
"Fine.." she answered solemnly, muttering under her breath. She looked down, both wanting to forget she ever slept so close to him but knowing if she did, she'd somehow feel even worse.
Negan groaned, feeling him begin to shift as he sighed, "Shit, I haven't slept in this much in fuckin' forever. Good ass change of pace."
At that, Michelle could feel her expression scrunching up in puzzled thought. "Slept in?" she asked as she looked up at him. "What time is it?"
"Nearly noon," a small chuckle followed, his smile growing. "I'd give my whole entire left nut to wake up like this every damn day."
But that brought another thought to the forefront: why was he here right now?
Michelle's expression grew much more curious, "If it's almost noon, then… Why aren't you at the diner?"
"What, I can't get some downtime? I can't give myself a day off every now and then? Jesus, can't be bustin' my balls every single day of my life," he responded, somehow both blunt and playful. "Let's just say I took the weekend off. Just for you."
The weekend off? Did that mean she was going to be stuck with him in this house for the next two, three days? Just them?
Slowly, Michelle began to pull away from him. She was thankful to find that he didn't force her to stay close, instead allowing her to back away and sit up. He followed suit, however, and even rolled off the bed, stretching and giving a loud and exaggerated yawn.
Michelle found herself staring down at her hands as they rested on the white sheets as she began to come to terms with things now- this was how it would be. It wouldn't be just this weekend they were going to be stuck together. It was going to be the rest of her days. In this house. With his other wives.
A quick and soft, nearly inaudible gasp came past her dry lips as she looked back up to Negan, "Where's Dawn? This is the house, isn't it? Where you keep them all?"
"Those are some heavy questions you're throwin' out at the start of the day," he snorted, obviously dodging the question altogether as he rounded the bed. "How about this- we eat and then we can talk more. Because I am hungry as hell. Shit, I'll even give you the grand tour of the place. But food first."
Negan then set himself to getting more properly dressed, changing his shirt and slipping on a new pair of jeans while Michelle looked back down to her own hands. She felt lost, like she couldn't think clearly. Part of her was angry, another sad, and yet another disgusted. But she supposed none of it mattered.
"Michelle," Negan's voice rang out through the room once more, snapping her attention back up. He was standing near the doorway, standing in the cocky and self assured way he usually did, and was looking at her with an expectant tilt of his chin. "C'mere."
She could feel herself swallowing a bit hard but took a deep breath and complied, moving the covers away from herself and standing. Her steps were slow and careful as she approached him, stopping a little more than an arm's length away from him. Her eyes remained to the side, but she could see him straighten a bit as he moved closer.
The feeling of his fingers on her chin forcing her to face him more properly made her tense up just slightly as he spoke, "Look at me with those big ol' pretty eyes of yours."
Slowly but surely, her eyes began to drag up to look at him, the distant hint of a smile lingering on his lips, as always, with his own dark eyes flitting over her features. Almost like he was looking for something incredibly specific that he just couldn't find.
"I hope you know you earned yourself a whole shitload of brownie points last night," he praised, sounding surprisingly genuine, as he began to lean closer to her. She could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over her lips before his mouth was on hers.
Michelle had begun to lose track of how many times he had kissed her but something about this one felt different. Perhaps it was because she was finally beginning to accept it. Beginning to realize that this was going to be her new reality and just falling into it seemed to make it easier.
The feeling of one of his hands on her hips was pulling her even closer to him as he pressed deeper into the kiss. Maybe if she kept getting these 'brownie points', she could get some solid answers on Dawn. She had to focus on that otherwise she felt like she'd remain an aimless zombie. Not to mention, if she pleased him enough, she could make good on her promise that Ramsay would never get near her again.
So Michelle closed her eyes, allowed herself to press into it, and even placed her hands on his chest. It was an action that even Negan seemed to take notice of, a small hum rumbling at the back of his throat as he pulled away.
"Well, shit," he breathed, grinning as he looked her over. "Brownie points doubled."
That had to be good, right? She could only hope it wasn't just Negan being, well- Negan. Knowing her luck, however, it could've been for nothing in either of her goals now. But what else was she supposed to do to get the information she needed?
With one last kiss, Negan was urging her to get herself dressed and head downstairs where he'd be fixing them some lunch. The very faint but tempting thought to just find some escape right now or some way of taking out Negan had occurred. But she didn't entertain the idea for longer than a moment or two before the thought of Dawn being the one in those pictures began to haunt her.
So she simply did as Negan said, finding a fresh pair of clothes in the nearby drawer (fitting her perfectly, of course) before she was heading back downstairs and towards the kitchen/dining room. The smell of something cooking was very prevalent, making her realize she was surprisingly a lot hungrier than she'd anticipated.
As Michelle approached the dining table, she could see Negan near the stove, whistling jovially as he tended to a couple of cooking pots. The sight of steam was rising from the pots, and now that she was closer, she was pretty sure that she could smell some kind of pasta being cooked. It was weird seeing Negan doing something so… Normal. So boring. So uninteresting.
Michelle took a slow breath before she spoke up, "Why aren't your wives here?"
"Woah!" Negan exclaimed as he suddenly turned on his heel, wooden spoon in his hand. It was covered in some red sauce. His tone was both playful and held a hint of indignation, "Didn't I say to wait to talk about that shit until after we ate?"
"Where are they?" she pressed, her fingers clasping around the back of the wooden chair before her. She watched him intently and she couldn't help but feel like he was avoiding the subject. Typical.
He snorted as he pointed the wooden spoon in her direction, "You have always got such a hard on for the questions when you need to stop and smell the roses for five whole, whopping minutes. We eat. Then we talk. In that order. Got it?"
Michelle clenched her jaw, more than just a little frustrated at his dismissal. What was the point of putting off the question? Just to peeve her? Knowing Negan, it probably was.
She sighed just as Negan turned back to the stove, resuming his whistling and cooking. The minutes seemed to drag but at the very least, she began to formulate the questions much more properly, began to put the words in place. And, unfortunately, she began to come upon some compromises that she wasn't a fan of but she was a lesser fan of the alternative.
Finally, Negan began to bring over two plates, full of spaghetti and a piece of what looked to be garlic bread to the side. After setting them down, he moved back into the kitchen and brought back a couple of wine glasses and a full bottle of wine.
"It is officially past noon," he began as he sat opposite of her; the exact same seating they had the night prior when he completely destroyed her world. He popped open the cork of the wine with a widening smile before beginning to pour the red liquid into the glasses. "So no bitching that it is way too early to start the booze train a'chuckin'. Choo choo."
Just as Negan filled up her glass, Michelle was reaching for it and immediately beginning to drink it down. She readily and eagerly welcomed the alcohol into her system, feeling like she could use about ten entire bottles of the stuff. It had been years since the last time she'd had wine, but it was just as she remembered; bitter and biting and good. She took several gulps before putting the glass back onto the table, already one thirds empty.
Negan's eyebrows were raised as he finished pouring some into his glass, giving a few chuckles as he placed the bottle back onto the table, "Well, damn. I dig the attitude darlin', but take it easy. No one's gonna take it from ya."
"I want to talk to you about Ramsay," Michelle responded nearly immediately, fingers lingering on her glass of wine.
"Alright, Michelle," he sighed, dragging his tongue over his lower lip. "I am not gonna keep fuckin' repeating myself on this. Eat. First. Believe me, I am one heck of a patient guy. The fact that you're sitting here right now, at this very moment, about to eat my amazing as shit spaghetti is because of how picture perfect patient I am. But my patience is not endless by any means whatsoever."
Frustrating. That's what this was and it was beginning to drive her a bit mad. But fine, she would play along and do what he said. She supposed it did help that she was hungry and the food did look good. So she ate, chancing a glance up at Negan every so often. And every time she did, his lips were turned up in a smile. She always ended up looking away quickly.
Eventually, and through a long silence, they finally both finished. Michelle hated to admit it but it was actually all really well done, perhaps even better than the food she usually received back at the diner. She'd also happened to go through two full glasses of wine and was even pouring herself another as Negan picked up the empty plates to go set them in the sink.
"Alright, now then," Negan began as he approached beside her, reaching over to grab the bottle of wine from her hand, much to her dismay. He finished pouring into her cup, filling it once again, before he moved back over to his seat. Yet another smile plagued his lips. "Let's hear those burning questions that have just been eatin' you alive. One at a time."
Pursing her lips for just a moment, she studied him carefully as he topped off his own glass and proceeded to sip at it. She took a careful breath past parted lips. "Why isn't Dawn and your other wives here? Where are they?"
His brows furrowed slightly as he pulled the cup back from his lips. He allowed his face to relax back into its cocky calm before he was answering, "What's got you so damn convinced that this is the house where I keep 'em? I certainly don't see them around. And if you do then I'm sorry to say it my dear, but you must be losing your mind. Which is understandable. You've been stuck down in that room for quite some time. Does shit to your mind."
"You called this a preview," she nearly muttered, beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol tickling at the edges of her consciousness. "Are you saying you have another house?"
"Maybe I do," he teased. "I like to keep up the appearance of being a rich son of a bitch by owning as many houses as I can. Really strokes my giant dick-sized ego when I ask the ladies if they wanna come back to my place and then I have to ask them which one they wanna go to"
Negan tilted back his glass of wine for a swig as Michelle stared at him in silence, that smile of his never fading for even a second. He snorted as he placed the glass back on the table, "C'mon darlin', lighten up a little. Laugh or smile maybe! It was a joke. Sort of."
"Where is Dawn?" Michelle found herself restating, a bit stronger this time. "Just tell me. Please."
"Alright, alright," Negan sat back in his seat, expression becoming a little more serious. "You really wanna know so badly? She's with Ramsay right now. Her, along with my other wives."
Michelle could almost feel her own blood turn ice cold at the thought of Ramsay anywhere near Dawn or those other women. And then the video of him and Dawn together dredged itself up from her memories. She quickly pushed it away from herself.
"I don't understand…"
Negan gave a sigh, "Some things got a little complicated and we had to relocate you and the other ladies for a bit. It's nothin' you need to go worrying your pretty little head about. Ramsay's taking real good care of them, I swear to you."
"That didn't answer my question," she went on once more, leaning forward. "Where? Where did Ramsay take them?"
"Some things here are on a need to know basis and this is exactly something you don't need to know," he responded with an increasingly stern voice. "What goes on when you're not around? Is not a whole lot of your business. All that matters is what happens between you and me, every time."
Michelle could feel her fingers tightening into a fist- she knew if she tried to press this, it wouldn't go very well. Not to mention, she was trying to make him pleased with her. She couldn't roll back on all the progress she'd made so far, so she would just have to drop it.
Reaching forward, she grabbed her glass and downed the rest of it. Her mind couldn't be swimming in the alcohol soon enough.
"I want to ask you a favor," she managed to mutter, looking from the empty glass and up to Negan.
He smiled wider, a low and drawn out chuckle seeping past his white teeth. "A favor?" he hummed. "You wanna ask me a favor? After all the doting and attentive favors I've already done for you so far? Someone's all kinds of greedy. And said greedy someone just might have to work for a favor."
With a small bit of hesitation, Michelle was moving forward, pulling up from her chair to reach over the table to the bottle of wine. She grabbed it but was stopped as Negan's hand came up and wrapped around her own hand, still clutching the neck of the bottle. She gasped involuntarily as Negan wouldn't let her budge, holding firm.
"Let's hear it," he went on, eyes boring deeply into her. "I am all ears."
Pressing her lips together hard, she tried to keep an edge to her expression but there was no doubt that it looked only half convincing. The silence following seemed to drag on painfully, but she finally found her voice.
"I don't want Ramsay coming near me or Dawn ever again," she said, sounding only a fraction as strong as she wanted to.
Slowly, Negan grinned wider as he began laughing, shaking his head as his laughter began to peter out, "Now that is a hell of a favor you're asking of me. One big, heavy ass ol' favor. Now, I know Ramsay can be abrasive- but that's who he is. That's who I need him to be. He's my guy that does the dirty shit and not only does he do it good as fuckity fuck, he does it gladly! In fact, I've never seen a guy more down to do murderous shit than him. But he's not so bad when you get to know him."
At that, Negan's smile began to fade as he tilted his head back. He looked over to see his hand still clamped over Michelle's before he huffed a single chuckle and let go. Without hesitation, Michelle pulled her hand and the wine back, immediately pouring herself some more.
"Shit," he sighed, bringing up a hand to scratch at the scruff on his cheek. "What, you're scared he's gonna do said murderous shit to you or Dawn?"
"Don't act so surprised," Michelle bit back, maybe a little more spiteful than she'd intended. She planted the bottle of wine back down on the table before taking another drink of the alcohol. "I don't think you realize how much he wants to chop me up into tiny pieces. Besides, there's a lot worse he can do than just kill me. And you know that."
Negan shook his head, "Well, that's some tough ass nuts for him- he knows that shit will not fly for even a second. We've got an agreement-"
"And if he just snaps and breaks that agreement?!" Michelle interrupted, feeling her composure beginning to crack. "He's a psychopath, Negan. And if I'm ever going to be your wife then he cannot be anywhere near me or her."
Slowly, Negan's eyes began to narrow, his features turning into something she could only describe as pensive. Like he was chewing the information over and trying to decide something.
"That's all fine and dandy," he finally began once more, moving to fold each of his fingers together before himself on the table. He leaned closer. "But there's one tiny, itty bitty little bitch of a problem with that sentence: you're not my wife yet."
This was what Michelle was worried it might come down to. But this was it. There had to be no turning back and the moment she saw that picture last night, she began to accept it. And now she had to dive head first into this cesspool of shit with a hope it would somehow be better at the bottom of it all.
Michelle reached over to the cup, putting it to her lips and downing every last drop within the glass before setting it down roughly.
"Then I'll do it. I'll be your wife."