I'd managed, through sheer force of will, to push the unpleasant truths of my new living arrangement far far back in my mind. With the slate I cleared, I was able to fall into the book I'd grabbed from the shelves. I fell so deeply into the story that I almost didn't hear Negan's return. Almost, but who could drown out that whistling as it grew closer? Especially knowing intimately what else the lips doing the whistling could do…

I kept my nose in the book, planning on making Negan work for my attention. Bargaining power only worked if he knew he wouldn't get everything with me so easily. My attention was going to have to be earned. Even if I knew he was a dirty fighter.

"Ah, there's my girl," his grin could be heard in that fucking voice of his.

Certain, I was sure, that I'd launch myself into his arms and make him feel like a 50s husband who just got home after a hard day of bread-winning for the little woman all day. I had to stop myself from snorting at the thought. Sure, he's a 50s husband who happens to bear more resemblance to the Fonz than to Darren Stevens. Good luck with that, sweetie, I thought, keeping my attention on the page in front of me.

I felt him sit at the end of the couch that I was reclining on with the throw he'd tossed over me the day before. He shifted my legs, lifting them so he could move closer, so my legs would be draped over his lap, from knees down. The throw was still over top of my body, and his hands were running underneath along my leggings covered legs. I kept 'reading' even remembering to turn the page here and there.

"Callie," Negan's voice had gone to that low, deep, dark place that made everything on me tingle, but I refused to acknowledge it, or him. His fingertips were touching my bare ankle, light but with the callouses my nerves were coming alive. "Sweetheart, what are you reading?" Fucker, I thought, you KNOW that if I speak, and it comes out the least bit breathless, then you've won this round.

I took a beat, keeping my eyes on the page of God fucking knew what fucking chapter, and tried to remember what the story had been that kept me so engrossed before I heard him whistling. Shit, what the fuck? Clearing my throat, I lifted up the book so he could see the title for himself. Then I put it down and continued 'reading'. I felt him shift, moving his hands to my waist, and lifting me so he was at the end where I'd been laying, and now my ass was cradled in his lap. Damn it, I swallowed, feeling how very much he missed me while at 'work'.

"It looks good," his voice in my ear. "Why don't you read it to me?" Oh, he really really didn't play fair. I felt his lips touch the shell of my ear and my eyes closed. "Callie? Princess? Don't you want to share with me?"

Another swallow for me, and I forced open my eyes. Sure, why the fuck not? I started from where I'd turned the page absently to while playing with fire. As I read, Negan tempted me to completely lose my damn mind. He'd touch my hand holding the book, running his fingers along my wrist, his head on my shoulder. He'd turn his head and run his nose down the curve of my jaw, listening for any signs that he'd truly won a hitch in my throat, a sigh, but I kept reading. Bringing in the big guns, his lips started exploring my neck, kissing and nipping at every spot that he knew would drive me insane. Until I forgot to read, closed my eyes and just enjoyed the attention he was lavishing on my skin.

His chuckle against my pulse point made me bite my lip. "Finished already?" His hand took the book from mine and tossed it at the table in front of the couch. "Thank fucking God." And then our lips met and I moaned. As our tongues touched, I forgot why I'd wanted to refuse to give in to his presence, why I'd been playing hard to get. I forgot everything except him and me, and what we could do to one another.

When we were finally satisfied, which took less time than I thought possible, we lay on the couch together. I had to admit, giving in was always worth it with Negan. I was laying over top of him, my head tucked under his chin, my hand over his slowing heart with his arms wrapped around me to keep me in place. As our breathing regained control, our hearts stopped racing, we relaxed settling in to just being together.

"How was your day?" I finally asked, wanting to hear his voice rumble through my cheek.

His chuckle sounded tired, we had just exercised pretty hard after all. Then he sighed. "The usual," then as though realizing that I would have no idea what the usual entailed, he kept going. "I always have people pushing for more or taking more than they've earned. And with the-" He stopped, and I waited for him to gather his thoughts. "Now that I'm monogamous," ah, I thought 'the wives'. "I have a new round of people having to relearn their places." I started to shift, feeling uncomfortable that I've caused him problems, but his arms were like steel holding me to him. "It was bound to happen, Callie." I felt his lips touch my hair. "You're more than worth it. It's just the fucking learning curve." I felt him groan at the thought. "And finding something they can do, for fuck's sake, you teased me about them being just pretty fucking faces, well I'm learning that for the most goddamn part, you're fucking right."

I propped my chin up on his chest so I could look up at him. "They did nothing except sit here-" his eyes narrowed, and I corrected myself. "They sat wherever they were given space and just waited for you?" The judgement was heavy in my voice. I couldn't imagine doing that, that anyone could hope to fucking survive in this world without learning to be useful. And sex, while amazingly fun, wasn't exactly a marketable skill when surrounded by dead biters. "Did they all come from brothels?" That last one was meant to be an internal dialogue, but of course it fell out of my lips.

Negan laughed, no longer sounding tired, and I shook my head. "I'm startin' to wonder about that myself, Callie." He shook his own head. "I swear to fucking God, I have no fucking clue what they did prior to latching onto me. None. And now I really fucking wonder." He studied me, and his smile grew. "Then there's you." Ut oh. "Itching to get the fuck out of these rooms to be useful. Fighting to have control over ANYTHING. Jesus, why didn't I find your ass sooner?"

I let my head fall back to lay on his chest. "You weren't ready for me." I shrugged, not knowing how, but knowing it was the truth. "Are we still going to do interviews for my 'guard'?" I could feel the irritation growing at the thought. I'd negotiated for it, the power to choose, but it grated on me to have to have security. Then again, if what Dwight had said was true, and I had to trust at least that much, then I might need them.

"Yeah," he said, running a hand up my bare back and into my hair. "I told Dwight to have a few I think you'll like to come up after dinner." His hand was tugging the band from my hair, letting it fall in curls down my shoulders. Once free, his fingers began brushing through the silky strands. "They're people I trust, with my life, Callie." I knew that he wouldn't say that about just anyone, but then again he trusts Dwight. I nodded, relaxing at the feeling of his hand running through my hair. "You're hair is fucking gorgeous, baby girl." I could feel his body coming alive under mine. "Why don't you wear it down more?"

Propping my head up again so I could meet his eyes, I smiled. "Ever tried getting gore out of long hair? Or undead leavings? And God fucking damn it, imagine one of them grabbing it?" My smile turned to a smirk. "Practicality keeps it up. Even in Alexandria, just because anything can fucking happen. No matter how safe you think you are."

He considered my words, his hand still running through the curls, letting them twist around his fingers. "Practical?" He squinted, and kept thinking. He licked his lower lip and I waited. "You're really not at all like them, are you?" And I was fairly certain that wasn't a question he needed me to answer.

We were dressed by the time dinner arrived. Negan had gone into the bedroom to do who knew what, so I answered the door. The same delivery boy stood on the other side, and he seemed braced for my kindness this time. He even managed to smile as I handed him the tray from lunch. When I thanked him, he remembered to say "you're welcome". Progress. Thank goodness.

I set the table, finally able to do SOMETHING without Negan taking over. When he came out, I'd put the identical plates in our regular spots and had taken my seat. I heard another chuckle leave him as he came closer to join me. "Feeling better?" He asked, and I shot him a look. "It really fucking irritates you that I want to pamper you, doesn't it?" He took his seat and stared across the table at me.

I stabbed a bite of the potatoes that were growing cold on my plate. "Why would you think that?" I asked, biting my fork with more force than necessary.

His laughter told me that my poker face may need to be relearned for him. "It's a theory." He picked up his own fork and we returned to the 'getting to know you' portion of our day. "If I would let you do any job here," he gestured around him, as though I needed help understanding, "what would you prefer to do?"

I considered what he was asking, eating carefully through more of my dinner. "What I did for our group, I guess." I shrugged, thinking it was most logical.

His brows furrowed, and he took a drink from his glass. "Laundry?" I snorted, shit, that's right. He'd only witnessed the household chores of Alexandria. Poor man.

"Negan," I shook my head. "Laundry, taking care of Judith? Those were just family chores." I giggled at the mere idea that I'd only been a housewife with no husband. "Dad, he understood my little talent, the one you saw me work in that video. That's what I did. I was his human lie detector."

I watched him digest this, as he absently ate. Did he honestly think that Dad would let me run off if I didn't have SOME idea of how to take care of myself here? And that I'd rush off with Satan's favorite offshoot without some inner understanding that I had a pretty decent understanding of human behavior and that I felt safe with him? Jesus, living with those multiples must have made him assume that sex overrode every brain synapse in a woman's head. Not that he didn't manage to short circuit me now and again, but so far it wasn't permanent.

"How?" He asked, and I smiled.

"You saw how Deanne chose to greet new people? The videos, the questions? They're fucking useless if you don't understand human behavior. She convinced herself that being a former politician made her see more than a regular person on the street." I took another bite, chewing and swallowing before continuing. "It may have worked, but she failed to add in the stress and uncertainty that comes with surviving this bullshit. It changes people, and so sitting down with a layperson and 'telling all', has to be reran through a sieve that filters what's being said, shown, and known with what that person has experienced."

As I shrugged, he studied me with interest. Learning more about me was apparently making Negan appreciate me more. "And you can do that?" He'd leaned back, food forgotten.

"I told you, I can't read minds, but behavior? That's simple." I looked down at my own plate and was shocked that it was almost empty again. Seriously, how did he fucking do it? "Deanne was different in so many ways. She hadn't fought, not really. Her people stumbled into Alexandria, and she realized it was a boon. Yet, when her people started scouting for people to join, they didn't know and she didn't know how the world changed people. Why would they?" I thought of Aaron, and hoped he was doing well. "She asked questions that didn't matter. She listened to words, but didn't pay attention to the thousand yard stare that some people get when they've seen too much and are more dangerous because of their quiet and calm. She didn't use the knowledge she was so fucking smug about to actually comb through the people better." It had been her downfall. That and refusing for the people to learn useful skills, and learn to kill "She had no idea she had a domestic abuse situation under her nose. She didn't think learning to survive 'in case' was worth the effort. And so, she died. Because, from what I've experienced, 'in case' or 'worst case scenario' has a pretty high fucking likelihood of happening."

Negan was watching me as I explained. "You'd be able to tell what exactly?" I liked his curiosity. That he wasn't blowing it off or pretending it was a parlor trick.

I sighed, and took a drink from my own glass. "If a person fidgets, when meeting a new group, it means different things. Fear, discomfort, uncertainty, those are normal, especially now. Couple the fidgets with another tell, shifty eyes with the inability to make eye contact, tugging at any part of their clothing at waist level and then you have to look closer. Eye contact isn't something we have to fear against walkers, some dickhead humans sure, but walkers aren't all that interested in staring deeply into your eyes. And the tugging? Concealed weapon, or some type of mark or branding are both possibilities." I leaned back in my own chair, pleasantly full now. "I can't tell you that they're dangerous, but I can tell you where to look to find out."

He let out a long breath. "Fuck, no wonder Rick kept you out of the first fight." I was about to object, but he kept going. "You're too fucking valuable." Or my mouth overrules my ass, I thought, but yours sounds more complimentary, so do go on. "What do you need to be able to do it?"

I laughed. "A person? A neutral spot?" I shrugged. I'd been gauging people for my entire life. I didn't really know what I'd need. "I do it without thinking most of the time, Negan."

"You don't like Dwight." It wasn't a question, but I knew he wanted to know how and why.

I shook my head. "I don't trust Dwight, there's a difference." I stood up, needing to move to explain. "There's a lot going into it. The way he gave up everything that was taken from Daryl that he took for his own. The fact that you could punish him in such a permanent way." Negan was nodding with my words. "And there's a way he stares, at you, that makes my blood run cold."

Negan's eyes were furrowed. "He got Sherri back. He's one of my best warriors." I could tell this wasn't to me, it was him trying to see what he'd missed.

"And yet," I said, making him refocus on me. "There's something there that even you aren't sure about." I knew that too, watching the two of them interact. Negan always seemed to be testing him, and Dwight always seemed to know it. "Maybe he doesn't trust that he'll get to keep her, or maybe he's still fucking angry that you got to have her for so long? I don't know, I just know that I don't trust him."

"What would your suggestion be?" He asked, and I knew I might shock him with my answer, but it was the truth.

"Keep him close. Don't let him have an inch, but don't let him know you suspect." I offered, moving to his side. "There's a saying, 'keep your friends close-'"

"'And your enemies closer." He finished, pulling me onto his lap.