A/N There is the most awkward scene between RM and Negan in this chapter, but it really was one of my top favorite scenes to write because I love their chemistry. This is actually a happy chapter. No cliffhanger, either :)
I know my intentions were to publish my book today, but it's been a difficult year so far for me. I will still publish Madsen and RM's backstory, just at a later date when I can breathe again.
Gezellig (adj.) cozy, nice, inviting, pleasant, comfortable; connoting time spent with loved ones or togetherness after a long separation.
I haven't seen Madsen in days. I'm not really sure what that means. Until I get the most unexpected surprise at my door.
"Hello."
I shift my eyes side to side. "Yes?"
"I, uh," Madsen clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.
Fucking fuck me. He looks good. Damn good. He's wearing my favorite boots and shirt of his. What's his deal though? Since when is he nervous?
"Would you like to have dinner together?"
"Don't we always?"
"It would be us. As in... just us. No one else. Just the two of us."
"So, like the two of us?"
"Yes."
I don't think he got my joke. He's so fucking stiff. I've never seen him like this before. "Okay."
Madsen nods then hurries off up the steps to what I'm assuming is his room.
Oh my god. I never been on a date before! Sweet fuck. I need help and hurry to the parlor. "Get out of the way, plastic tits," I dismiss one of Negan's wives.
"You can't go in there!"
"Watch me." I slam Negan's door behind me because I do what the fuck I want when it comes to Negan. "...uh. The fuck are you doing?!"
Negan stands up straight with a small mirror in his hand. His pants are around his ankles. "There's something-" He squats uncomfortably with a grunt. "There's something wrong with my ass," he frowns.
"Dingus, we got bigger problems than what your wives stuck in your copper cabinet. Madsen asked me to have dinner with him!"
"Bigger problems?! Look, I'm telling you I was wiping my ass and I felt something. A bump."
"It's just a pimple. You're overreacting."
"What if I'm fucking dying! What if my ass is ruptured or something?"
"I'm not a fucking doctor!"
"Will you look at my ass? I can't see anything."
"Probably because all that fucking hair."
"Please, RM. You're the only one I trust enough."
Oh, goddammit. That fucking face. Dumpy lip pushed up. Dumpy eyebrows slanted. Dumpy creased forehead. Dumpy huge eyes. "Fuck. Okay. Look, I'll do this for you, but you owe me one and I'm cashing in." I know I give this fucker a lot of shit, and maybe no one understands, but I guess I don't mind helping him. Negan is a lot of things except vulnerable. You have to put a lot of fucking trust in someone to look at your crack. "It's a tick."
"The fuck? How did I not notice that cocksucker on my asshole of all places?"
"They're sneaky bastards for sure. I'll get it off of you, just stay like this." I reach in my pocket and get my skeleton lighter. "Hold still, motherfucker. I'm going in."
"RM, no! Are you fucking crazy?!
"Well, this is how Mama always got them off me."
"I watched your mom huff gasoline while smoking a cigarette. Consider the source."
"Hmm, yeah, fuck, maybe you're right."
"Here." Negan takes something to give to me from off his bed. "Tweezers."
"Come to think of it, you do have a lot of hair that I could singe." Well, here goes nothing. This is a lot closer to Negan than I ever wanted. "Ugh, this dirty slut. Do you wanna see it?"
"No. Use your lighter on the fucking thing and get rid of it."
Tick or not, I just can't harm it. Just like the lice when I was a little girl and lived at Madsen's.
Why aren't they moving?
That shampoo kills them, but some of these are the—
I killed them?
No. No, I killed them.
You shouldn't harm things.
Well, it's all right to kill lice.
No! You're being ugly. Can we bury them?
We can bury them.
"Here, give it to me."
"Thanks," I huff, handing it over.
"Alright, so what's this huge dilemma? Dinner? You two have dinner every night together."
"No, it's a date dinner. He was real fucking nervous and shit. What do I wear?"
"RM, we're men. We don't give a fuck if you wear inflatable pool floaties and a cummerbund. We're just thinking about how long until we can get you home and fuck you."
"I pulled a tick out of your chewing gum knot for advice like that?"
"It's been, what, four years since he's got his dick wet? Trust me. Just go put something on and worry more about not making him go completely deaf."
I narrow my eyes at him. I still can't believe this shit fuck advice.
Combing my hair hurts worse than ever, but I gotta make it nice. I even put product in it. Make sure I'm smelling fresh. Damn, I'm real fucking fine. I know I gave Madsen shit, but I'm getting fucking nervous now too. I take a few deep breaths and let myself into his room. Well, this makes two men I've walked in on naked today.
However, Madsen doesn't notice and continues to run his towel over the wet contours of his shoulders and arms before towel drying his hair.
My eyes drop to one thing. His ass. That ass is so fucking fine. I would pull a tick from it with zero complaints. It's firm, so fucking firm, and he has these dimples above it. Damn. I don't want to be this creeper.
When he notices me, he freezes.
I lock eyes with that fucking whalelphant. Holy fuck.
It's for just a moment before he turns around to put on his boxer briefs.
"Sorry for barging in. I guess I'm still adjusting to you not being my property."
He doesn't respond and continues to get ready.
I feel wrong for enjoying it, but I miss watching his routine. Slowly, I inch my way to him until I'm by his side watching him fix his hair into place.
He gives me one of the old pomade cans he's kept, then goes back to using his comb.
I love these cans because of the cute skeleton on it. Madsen always gave it to me once it was empty. I hold it against my chest while I watch in the mirror as he finishes. Last to go on is his shirt. Today is one I've never seen. Some black thermal long sleeve one that contours well to his torso and arms. Brass knuckles and other miscellaneous things go in his pocket.
He lets out a breath laugh when he takes his wallet. "It's one habit I can't let go of. I guess I should throw it away."
I take it from him and thumb through it before pulling out his license with his picture on it. "How do you say your last name?"
"Draeger."
Dray-grrr.
His thumb brushes my cheek. "You keep it."
His touch makes me weak. I slide the plastic in my pocket. Rude Motherfucker Draeger. Fuck yeah. No one's gonna fuck with me.
"Come on, RM." He holds the door open for me, then leads us down the steps. Being a lieutenant, he doesn't wait in line for food. "Tell her what you want."
Fuck, what did Negan call my alien food? I'm holding up the line.
One man gets real fucking mouthy. "You wanna fucking pick someth-"
Madsen grabs the man by his throat.
"S-sorry, Sir…"
"You watch how you speak to that woman."
He nods because Madsen's grip is too tight to speak.
Madsen shoves him back as the man trips and falls on the floor. "Back of the line. Now. Anyone else have anything to say?"
The line of people fall silent.
"Grapes, and get me one of those cups of noodles. Hussle," Madsen orders, snapping his fingers.
"Yes, Sir."
Goddamn, I wish people moved like this for me. I'm given the greenest alien heads, too. Yeah, I already forgot what they were called. Whatever.
"2," Madsen reminds the woman.
I guess I never realized just how high up Madsen was. Better than Simon or Connor.
Madsen slides my food across the bars too so the woman can deduct the points.
"You're good," she smiles, losing it once she sees the next man in line.
It makes me even more jealous because he's not mine. These women treat him like he's a piece of meat. It's worse that he looks just like Negan.
"Where do you want to sit?"
"We're having dinner here?" My heart sinks because this isn't the kind of intimacy I was hoping for. Having to shout my conversation over one hundred people.
"I thought my room would be inappropriate. I don't… really know the rules anymore, RM," he frowns.
"I don't want to eat here," I pout.
"What if we went outside?"
Okay… that's better. I follow behind him still nervous.
Madsen sets down my tray across from his.
I know I should have sat across from him, but I don't want to. My shoulder rubs against his arm as I sit.
"Right side, RM."
It's not that I forgot he was deaf in his left ear, or that he's left-handed. I'm just so awkward. Is he going to be upset I never said anything about Negan and me? I plop down on his right side and reach for my tray. My skin feels feverish when he helps me in my gloves. "Thank you." I mostly just pick and push my food around as Madsen eats. This silence is killing me. "Will you say something, please?"
He sets down his fork while clearing his throat. "When I was in my early twenties, I modeled boxer briefs so I could help raise money to pay for my motorcycle shop. I didn't know it at the time, but in the contract, I didn't state anything about them being able to use the photos as many times as they wanted. What I'm trying to say is my crotch is still on that damn Ralph Lauren boxer briefs insert card. I noticed there's a package in the supply room of them."
Wait. What? My Madie posing in underwear? Unbelievable. My eyes widen. What fucking day is it?! I need those fucking things!
"It's Friday since I know you're trying to figure out the day."
Fuck! How did he know that? Is my boner showing again? Goddamn, his smart brain. "I was not. I already seen the real thing," I shrug casually.
"Oh," he murmurs disappointed.
"How much did you make?"
"Well, that's personal."
I sigh annoyed.
"Thirty-five hundred."
"Wow," I say impressed. "That's like a lot of Cheetos." I want that package of underwear. "I think you could have got more."
His lip tugs upward. "Thanks."
Rather than let the conversation go stale, or keep avoiding it, I just get it out of the way. "Are you mad about Negan?"
"No."
"Why is this so fucking awkward then?"
"Baby steps."
"I wear a fucking size five boot that's still too big. All my steps are baby ones."
"I'm just trying to adjust to all this information. Why didn't you tell me you weren't with Negan?"
"Because I wanted you on your terms. I didn't want you to feel guilted into some relationship with me because you felt sorry for me that I wasn't with Negan and I'd be alone."
"And I didn't want to come between your happiness with Negan."
"Happiness with Negan is the twenty minutes I wake up before he does. Peace and fucking quiet. Though the sound of his chest hair against those sheets is usually enough to send me over the edge."
"I do enjoy hearing you criticize him."
"Well, I shouldn't though. He's good to me. And he got me sober two times."
"He can't take credit for your sobriety."
"Oh, he can. He handcuffed me to the floor the first time."
"That's a bit harsh. I don't agree with that."
"He did the right thing. I started eating fentanyl and overdosed a few times. Madsen, I had some hard times because you lied. I thought you were dead. I understand now you did it to protect me, just like I kept Negan and me a secret to protect you. We both had our reasons."
"I didn't think of it like that."
"Yeah, my brain is getting pretty full of knowledge these days."
"You've always been smart, RM."
If I was smart, I'd figure out a way to be fucking right now. Why does this man see me for this girl I'm not? In his eyes, I'm the most perfect woman alive. How the fuck did I get so lucky.
I desperately want his touch all night, but he's a gentleman. Even when he walks me to my room. I want to ask him in, but I'm scared. What if he doesn't share those lustful feelings anymore?
"Goodnight, RM."
"Goodnight," I blush, a little disappointed I didn't get affection. Oh! That fucking reminds me! After a good minute, I rush to the parlor to find Negan going up the stairs. "Dumpy! Wait!" Fuck, I'm out of breath. "I need your keys. Madsen did some underwear modeling and there's a package in the supply room."
Negan just busts out laughing. In fact, he laughs so hard, he has to hold onto the fucking rail to keep from falling. This fucker is actually drooling. "Yeah, I fucking believe that old fuck is on an underwear package like I believe we're going to find a cure. Jesus, RM. I thought you were sober. You put her up to this?"
You? Who the fuck is Negan talking to- oh fuck me. I turn around and rub the back of my neck awkwardly. "Heh."
Madsen was standing behind me the entire time with his arms folded.
"Madsen has a key to the supply closet. Have him get them for you. There's some viagra in there too he can get. I'm going to go get my dick sucked. My nice hard still able to get it up without medicine dick." Negan trots up the steps.
Well, this is fucking awkward. "I didn't tell him you needed viagra."
"Negan says that because he's insecure."
"Am not," Negan shouts from the top of the steps.
Madsen drops his arms. "My point illustrated."
"Fuck you, Madsen," he grumbles.
When we're finally alone, I turn back to Madsen. "This is really your fault if you think about it. What if I modeled bras? Huh?"
"You'd have to actually wear a bra to model them. Christ only knows that I have asked a million times so they're not peeking out of the sides of your shirt. Quit eyeing my keys. You're not getting them."
"I was eyeing your seven and a half inches of man majesty."
"What am I going to do with that mouth, girl?"
You could fuck it. I flash him a smile. Fuck. The last thing I need is some sausage wallet ogling my Madie's packaged package. I'm going to get those goddamn underwear if it's the last thing I do…
A/N Don't be Googling Polo Ralph Lauren boxer briefs now or RM won't be happy.