Negan found a 'job' for me. It came sooner than I expected, but Laura had found three other guards that I didn't hate on sight quickly too, so the world was full of surprises.

I'd been at the Sanctuary nearly a month when he told me over dinner. My days had begun to have a sense of routine and normalcy. I'd wake up, wrapped up in Negan, he'd use all the persuasion he possessed to convince me mornings weren't his father's least useful gift, and we'd have breakfast. Our chats kept going, even traipsing into less than safe territories, and while I wasn't able to make him budge on the Kingdom or Hilltop, we learned more and more about one another. Then a shared shower, dressing for the day, and he'd go off to show the community what a badass, yet fair leader he was, and I'd get started on my own day.

I had felt that Laura needed to be clued in on my 'condition'. She needed to know that Negan wasn't simply insanely protective of me for my own irresistible self, but that I was growing a tiny little terror inside of me that he'd no doubt burn the world down to protect. With that in mind, she didn't blink at my daily walks through the Sanctuary and outside in the fresh air and sunshine. She became adept at knowing which way the wind was blowing, literally, because the scent of walker security was a surefire way to make me lose my breakfast.

We'd go through the marketplace, and I'd managed during one such trip, to find a book on pregnancy. I'd been a good student, but science hadn't been my strong suit, so biology wasn't high on my list of things to memorize. It's how I learned that our little demon seed was practically microscopic, and I started preparing for what was coming.

And with this book in hand, my chats with Negan started to include what we were going to be experiencing. "Wait," he said, holding up a huge hand during dinner the night he would tell me he'd decided on my role inside the Sanctuary. "How fucking big is their head gonna be again?" Yes, I'd been regaling him with the joys of childbirth, during dinner. And we'd decided to call the bean "they" since we didn't actually know the sex. Shut up, we're progressive.

I checked the book, and grimaced. "Around thirteen inches in circumference is the low end of the scale." Ugh, gross. "I was a premie, so if our bean takes after me, they could be tinier."

"You came early?" He asked, still eating somehow. "Don't remember you telling the good doc that during your checkup." I rolled my eyes. "Thirteen inches," he whistled and I shot him a glare. "That's-" he held up his hands and gave an example. "Fuck, baby girl, that's gonna hurt."

Asshole. I was glaring at the book, and trying not to squirm at the thought of something that size passing through me. "Yeah, but I'll be holding your fucking hand the entire time, so better start exercising those fingers, I'd hate to fucking crush them."

Negan laughed, and I took a drink when I looked up at his flashing eyes. "I have good news for you, sweetheart." I put the book aside, thankful for a break from the terrifying future. "Tomorrow you go to work."

I raised an eyebrow. Really? "Picked a job that you're 'willing' to let me do, have you?" I knew I sounded cranky, but seeing as I just realized how fucking huge babies really were and the fact that he'd been so adamant that I only work at what he felt I should, well I was fucking cranky.

He leaned back in his chair and grinned. Unfazed by my irritation, which pissed me off a little more. "Yes, I have." Those damn dimples mocked me. "I have the leaders of my outposts coming tomorrow for a meeting. They think they're just being introduced to you, my new-" he stopped, we still hadn't fucking given what we were a label, and EVERY time he made the 'wife' suggestion I gagged, at him, mind you. "They think it's just an introduction." He moved on, past the confusion of what the fuck we were. "You, my lovely Callie, are gonna use that wonderful talent of yours to let me know just how trustworthy my people are."

I grinned at him. Clever, that's Negan. My Negan, I thought, wanting nothing more than to prove myself and also, to show the fucking entire community that I wasn't just his willing concubine. "Of course," I answered, pushing my plate away. "What time should I be ready?"

The next morning, after performing his duty of convincing me that sunlight was not the enemy in the most mind blowing way he could, he smacked me on my bare ass, and ordered me out of bed for breakfast. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, Negan had begun beating the delivery people to the punch. I swear to fucking hell, he was waking me up earlier and earlier, and I would one day smother myself with a fucking pillow to stop it, but he took great pleasure of waiting with our living area door open so they couldn't interrupt or fucking knock.

Fucker, I thought, as I tugged on my morning outfit of whatever shirt he'd tossed off the night before, grabbing a pair of panties that I'd ONLY don during breakfast, and meeting him in the living room. I have to say, watching him wait for breakfast with the same glee I probably waited for presents on Christmas morning, was hilarious. I swear, once he'd decided to take away the unknown power that our food delivery person had over us, he became a fucking child. One day, soon probably, he was going to hide behind the open fucking door and shout "BOO" when he jumped out just to get a new fucking thrill.

I was shaking my head, and getting the dirty dishes from dinner gathered, when I felt him creep up behind me. His arms wrapped around me and he propped his head on top of mine. "Have I ever told you how fucking hot you look wearing my shirts?" His hands were smoothing down my still pretty damn flat stomach, teasing the soft fabric of his t-shirt. "When you come out here every fucking morning in one, it's all I can do to fight the fucking urge to lay you down on this fucking table and have YOU for breakfast."

I could hear the rawness in his voice and my stomach clenched with the picture he was painting. Me, laid out, much like our first flirtation on the dinner table in Alexandria, only naked this time and being savored. Jesus, I swallowed at the fucking burn growing across my skin.

He was dipping his head to nibble along my neck when we heard a throat clear. I nearly laughed, nearly because I fully remembered Rule Number 1, and also because for ONCE this wasn't my fault. Ha. I felt his groan against my skin, and then he pulled away and stalked to our open door. Letting go of a silent giggle, I took the empty dishes to the door to hand them to the poor guy standing there being glared at by Negan.

He took them from me, and I offered what I hoped was a sympathetic smile. Then closing the door, I rejoined the father of my child at the table. Negan was setting the table, something I'd reluctantly become used to, and he held out my chair for me as always. We sat and discussed what I could expect from the meeting he'd planned for the morning.

"Any preferences for what I should wear?" I asked, eating my food without argument. Another concession I'd made during the past month. Why fight the serving sizes? Especially since, and I'd never admit it to Negan, but I was growing more and more hungry by the day.

He considered my question, knowing it didn't come from a place of vanity. I wanted to be seen as formidable, but also as Negan's whatever the hell I was to Negan. "One of the dresses?" It came out as a question, mostly because I hadn't chosen to wear one of them yet. I could tell he wasn't certain I liked dresses. "They're all pretty functional, pockets, good length should shit go wrong." He was building a case for why he'd given them to me, I could see, and I smiled to show him I got it.

I nodded, wanting to sigh because today panties would be a requirement. Fuck, I thought, I hate underwear. We ate, talked about the day, and then he reminded me of another appointment we had today. "Dr. Carson says you're due for another checkup." I gave another nod. Yeah, it had been about a month, another checkup would be routine at this point. "I'm thinking after the meeting, we'll have lunch and head to the infirmary."

"Sounds fun." My tone showed exactly how not fun I found the idea.

A shower, brief this morning, since we had so much to do. Then we were back in our bedroom, Negan having a simple task of tossing on his usual outfit. Me, well, I was opening the section of the closet that I'd ignored until now. Dresses. I didn't hate wearing them, but a part of me wondered how wife-like I'd be looking in one. As I'm flicking through the offerings, I pull out one that makes me question just what kind of fantasies my personal sex machine may harbor for me.

"Negan, baby?" I ask, glancing at him and holding up the very plaid dress I'm holding up. "Is there something you want to share with the class about this?"

His eyes are twinkling as his grin grows. "I thought you'd look hot in it, princess." Uh huh, in a tartan plaid dress that hints at a schoolgirl fantasy if I've ever seen one.

"Gotta say, Coach, I fucking hated gym, but I'm pretty fucking certain this wasn't the uniform." I started to put it away, cute as it was I was pretty sure that wasn't the image I was going for today. His arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled his face in the curve of my shoulder. "Really?" I whispered, wanting more information, just so I understood. "Is it because of my size, or-"

His laughter against my skin forced a new rush of need to roll through me. "I'm not a fucking pedo, Callie." He kissed my neck and I could feel his smile against my skin. "You're so fucking tiny, and I saw it, and fuck if it didn't give me an idea or two."

Ah, I bit my lip, running my own scenario through my mind. "I think we're going to explore those ideas, Negan," my voice a breath, "soon."

Another laugh, and another swat on my panty covered ass. "Get dressed, woman."

I mumbled about the fucking need for panties, the need for a dress, the fucking irritation of having to be awake and dealing with this shit. My hands landed on a wine colored sleeveless wrap dress. Mesh covered the shell which was made of stretchy fabric, and it did have pockets. I wrapped it around me, happy that I didn't have to change the bra and panty set I'd chosen and smoothed it down so it settled just above my knees. If it was ever necessary, I actually could fight in it. Impressed at Negan's care in choosing my wardrobe, once again, I pulled out a pair of ballet flats and a pair of canvas sneakers. As I was deciding, Negan offered his choice.

"Sneakers, babe." He was pulling on his leather jacket, and watching me intently. I raised an eyebrow wondering at his choice, but didn't argue. They were cute, and they worked, so I tied them on.

He came over to fix my necklace, as I brushed and braided my hair. Dropping a kiss on the bare skin of the back of my neck, he smiled at me in the mirror's reflection. "You look good enough to fucking eat, darlin'."

"I'm going to hold you to that," I answered with a smile. "Should we head out?"

I was nervous. I'd met the people around us, fighting to keep hold of their names. And while Laura and Arat were becoming more familiar to me daily, the rest were kept at a distance. And here I was heading to meet the men and women Negan trusted to act in his stead at the outposts. Places that my family had attacked and killed at. As butterflies fought in my stomach, Negan's hand took mine, and together with Lucille we made our way to meet these leaders, meet them and have me pass judgement, I corrected myself.

Hopefully, I'd find nothing and no one amiss, but I didn't count that as likely. Negan surrounded himself with people who were fighters and survivors, and I knew, better than most what it took to become either.