Blake laughed, as she heard a door creak open, and a second later felt herself being tossed unceremoniously down onto a soft bed.

She gave a drunken purr, stretching out, and looking around giving a frown.

"Hey, this is not my room," uttered the caramel-blonde woman, propping herself up onto her elbows and peering up at the four poster bed she was led across.

It had cool grey cotton sheets and four plump looking pillows, and Blake, from here, got the weirdest sense of déjà vu. As if she had definitely been here before.

"No, it's mine," came Negan's low matter-of-fact tone, as he stalked past her and headed over to the small wooden panelled kitchenette in the corner of the room.

Blake gave another confused, slightly unfocused frown, as she gazed around the large area.

It was indeed Negan's room. The large window on the far side showing nothing but a hazy purple sky outside.

Blake kicked off her sneakers and let out a small huff as she watched the tall dark-haired man who had carried her in, with glazed green eyes.

Negan was smirking to himself, as he placed Lucille down onto a kitchen counter casually, and pulled a bottle of water and a large glass tumbler from the side.

He was as tall as ever, with his usual leather-jacket slung over his slumped shoulders and a knife at his belt.

Blake knew, of course, that she should be scared of him. Everyone else seemed to be, so why didn't she?

But there was something about him that made her feel strangely at ease.

So, so safe when he was near her.

He poured half the bottle of water into the glass, before picking it up and strolling back over towards her.

Blake pursed her lips, that huffy frown still lingering between her brows, as she stared up into his sultry chocolate eyes.

"If you think that just because I'm drunk I'm gonna sleep with you-" she began with a pout.

But Negan cut across her with a sudden chuckle, running a free hand down his bearded face and placing the glass down onto the nightstand to her right.

"Give me a break, Sweetheart," he groaned. "I might be a fuckin' asshole, I ain't a monster. I'm too fuckin' old to be takin advantage of a drunk girl, when I've got five wives sitting all pretty, all nice and compliant downstairs…"

The Saviour knew for a fact how much this would rile Blake up, and he was, of course, right.

She instantly narrowed her eyes at him, giving a dark huff.

"I don't get you," she said pointing a swaying finger up at him. "You act like this horrible villain to everyone else, and yet here you are, David's gone, and you're still try to look out for me? What makes me so special, huh?"

But Negan gave a small sigh, moving around the bed.

"Like I said, Doll-face," he muttered shaking his head and looking down at his feet as he spoke. "Soft-spot."

Blake's own face softened slightly as she pondered the words, titling her head to the side, letting her long caramel hair drift over her shoulder, as she looked over at him.

"You're wives are beautiful, y'know…" she said in quiet voice, after a moment or two.

And at this, Negan looked back at her grinning.

"Oh, I know'."

But Blake turned onto her side, coming to rest her head against her elbow, her hand in her hair, as she stared up through dark eyelashes at the tall man, standing beside the bed.

"But most people only have one wife," she said in a blunt voice, letting out a small frown.

But Negan gave another groaning sigh, suddenly coming to lie down on the bed beside Blake, stretching his long body out and placing both hands behind his head.

The bottom of his white t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a trail of dark hair leading down his lower abdomen and disappearing into his pants.

Blake gave a slow gulp, as Negan stared up at the underside of the four poster bed, his smile now gone and his face unreadable.

"I did only have one wife," he said in a low, drawl. "A long fuckin' time ago, Peaches."

And Blake, as tipsy as she was, knew then, that the mood of the conversation has changed slightly. The tenseness of Negan's voice a key factor in this.

This was a different side of the tall Saviour, that Blake had never been privy to before.

She gave a small gulp, staring over at him, as he lazed there beside her.

"What was her name?" she asked, sobering herself slightly as she spoke.

But Negan merely cocked an eye in her direction, throwing her a small sigh, as he turned his body in to face her, on the large bed, propping his own head up on his elbow.

His dark brown eyes suddenly met with hers.

"I'll tell you another day, Sweetheart," he said giving a knowing sort of smile and revealing his line of perfect white teeth. "When you're a bit more fuckin' sober."

Blake let out a stroppy sort-of puff of air, but smiled back at him, that frown still clinging on between her brows.

She could have protested, but was now fully aware of just how wasted she was, as Negan before her, moved in and out of focus.

They were close now, their bodies turned in towards the others…here on Negan's bed.

That alone, being a huge hint at the intimacy he was prepared to share with her right now.

A hushed silence filled the room, which only caused to flood Blake's body, with a warmth that made her heart pound ever-so slightly faster than before.

"So, I've been meanin' to ask you," said Negan after a second or two, as Blake pulled on her bottom lip with her teeth, her chest heaving. "Like you made me promise I would…"

She gave a nod, her green eyes staring at his mouth as he spoke….unable to look away.

This was the wine doing this, right? Nothing else?

There was a pause in which Blake held her breath slightly, as she batted her eyes tipsily.

"So….one more time….you wan' me to take you back home? To Rick the Prick?" Negan finally finished.

But this only caused Blake to let out a long huff of air.

That was it?!

But what else had she really been expecting?

A proposition?

A romantic speech?

Blake finally realised that she was far too drunk for all this…

She lowered her chin, pouting, and waved a hand dismissively in Negan's direction.

"Ugh, I don't know," she said shaking her head in irritation. "Ask me tomorrow when I'm more sober."

She blinked her eyes closed and flopped down onto her back moodily, as the dark-haired Saviour surveyed her, giving a brief chuckle.

"You mean after you get over tomorrow's hangover, or before, Sweet-cheeks?" said Negan, reaching over and making to grab for Blake's thigh teasingly.

But she quickly slapped his hand away.

"Nuh-uh. You can keep your hands to yourself tonight," she said warningly, turning her head towards him on the mattress and shooting him a look.

Though at this, Negan gazed back at her goadingly for an excruciatingly long moment.

"You sure about that Peaches?" he asked her. "Because there is a lot of really nice fuckin' things I could be doing for you tonight with these hands…"

Blake bit her lip and blinked at him, feeling her breath catch in her throat.

All it would take right now was for Negan to roll on top of her and pounce, and she would be all his…all night….

But he didn't…

In fact, the bearded Saviour just lay there with a teasing look plastered across his long, tanned face, knowing full well what he was doing.

Blake gave a scowl suddenly grasping up a pillow from behind her and tossing it unceremoniously at Negan's cocky face.

"Screw you," she huffed, as he caught the pillow before it could hit him, and gave a whining laugh in return.

"Oh, you fuckin' want me, Doll-face," said the dark-haired man, suddenly pushing himself from the bed with a sigh and getting to his feet. He pointed a finger at her briefly. "You can try and deny it all you want. But I know you…..an' I can see exactly what you're imaginin' us doin' together….imaginin' every little dirty fuckin' thing I could do to you…"

Blake looked up at him, parting her lips slightly, and feeling a creamy wetness pooling inside her panties at his gruff and husky words.

Oh god…

But Negan just grinned, not even waiting for an answer from her, as he strolled back across the room, turning away from her and picking up Lucille.

Blake gave a frown, watching him, as he snatched up the barbed-wire covered weapon, and to her surprise, made for the door.

"Wait…" she said suddenly in an incredulous voice, propping herself up onto her elbows once again. "Where are you going?"

But Negan just stopped, one hand on the door handle, throwing her an arrogant grin over his shoulder.

"Well, shit, Doll-face," he said raising an eyebrow. "I mean it's only eight fuckin' thirty. Some of us aren't totally wasted and out for the count quite fuckin' yet. So I'm just off to play a lil' poker with Simon an' the guys in the rec room downstairs….maybe smoke a couple' cigars. That alright with you?"

She gaped.

He was leaving?

Now?

Blake, even as drunk as she was, could hear the utter teasing in his voice, dripping now with sarcasm.

And at this, she gave an instant scowl, huffing and folding her arms across her chest.

"Yes," she snapped, pursing her lips and looking down at her feet sulkily.

Knowing just how much he was trying to goad her into a reaction right now.

But Negan just smiled that oh-so cocky smile of his.

"Good," he replied, tugging open the door. "Oh, an' Peaches?"

Blake immediately looked his way, just as he knew she would….her eyes big and round and lightly expectant.

"Don' wait up," he finished, arching his back and letting out a wide grin….

…..as a second pillow was instantly thrown in his direction…

….missing him by inches, and hitting the now door instead, as it shut with a gentle snap.

Hope that was ok? Sorry I wrote it in a bit of a rush.

Thanks to Dollfacex94, Hmc09, Xmidniteangel15X, Shan1994, PokemonTrainerDecember, JasminJW, rawbsten, Annie Dame, alliesmiley2, Shadowlover1222, whereshadowplays and shaywilliams4151 for reviewing.

Thinking of upping this fic to an M rating? What do you all think? This will be my first…so I'm a little unsure. Would love to hear your feedback on this, as I value all of your opinions a lot. Would you all like that? Or would you prefer to stay as a T?

Please review! :)