"Wake up, pup. We're home."
I uncurl from my balled-up position and slowly open my groggy eyes. The warehouse stands before us, illuminated by the searchlights on the perimeter fence. I turn to see a pair of headlights pull in behind us. It must be Simon and Dwight.
I squeeze my eyes shut and utter a silent prayer before reopening them, as if doing so would change what I saw, that what has transpired is only a nightmare that will all be over once I open my eyes again.
The same worn building fills my line of sight yet again. The nightmare is my reality.
Negan jumps out and places Lucille in his belt loop before coming around to the passenger door to retrieve me. I'm unable to unbuckle or exit the vehicle on my own, due to my wrists still being tightly bound behind my back.
He reaches across my petite body and unhooks the seat belt. His hand faintly trailing over my breast as he retracts the belt from across me. I flinch, watching him find any excuse to cop a feel.
"What? I'm just lending a hand." He responds to my warning look before guiding me out of the truck.
Negan utters a few parting remarks to Simon and Dwight before ushering me into the Sanctuary. He is careful to keep a steadied grip on my forearm when climbing the stairs to his domain, helping me in maintaining my balance. The hold is momentarily released long enough for him to unlock the apartment door.
I'm caught off guard when he doesn't grab me again, but instead, bends down and effortlessly hauls me into his arms.
"What are you doing?" I demand.
"Last time I checked, it was customary for the new wife to be carried over the threshold," he grins. Practically bouncing in delight as he carries me into the apartment.
I try to lean away from the embrace but Negan only pulls me closer, plastering me against the cool leather of his jacket.
Its intriguing how I tend to end up in his arms after a paramount event in our 'relationship.' First, it was after the introduction with Lucille, then after the ironing, and finally, after his proposal of sorts. Each instance marked a time when my eyes were opened, in a way, to another dimension of Negan. What could that mean for this instance?
I'm relieved to be on my feet and out of his arms once we reach the lounge area of his bedroom. I sit in the farthest seat possible as Negan quickly fetches the first aid kit from his dresser drawer. It had previously been kept in the hallway linen closet but was quickly relocated to the bedroom after my frequent 'injuries'.
Negan unsheathes his knife and slides the serrated edge against the restraints, severing them in two.
He raises a questioning eyebrow as he gently inspects the open wounds. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't recall you being handled rough enough to cause these hellacious gashes. Was someone pulling at their restraints?"
"Maybe a little…."
"A little my ass! You practically embedded the damn things into your wrists! You need to work on that anger of yours, pup," Negan chastises, shaking his head in displeasure.
My instinct is to fire back at him that me pulling against the zip-ties were, in fact, an example of controlling my anger. The self-infliction of pain was the only thing that could block out my rising aggravation towards Negan on our ride back. If it weren't for that, I have no doubt that I would've mouthed off to a degree that would've resulted in a severe reprimand from Negan.
However, just as I did in that moment, I don't dare say what's on my mind. So instead, choosing to keep my lips synched shut for a change.
Negan sits me down and begins the all too familiar process of cleaning out my wounds. I notice him peer up at me from time to time, as if waiting for me to speak up about the unaddressed elephant in the room. But I remain silent.
Negan found a way to outsmart me. Just when I thought I was gaining ground and beginning to understand how he operated, things get turned on its head yet again. I can't help but feel like I'm back at square one – I don't know my place and I must now endure his antics as he forcibly moulds me into whatever he wishes me to be.
The thought causes a lone, frustrated tear to fall, which doesn't go unnoticed by Negan.
"Hey, there's no need for that." The pad of his thumb traces over the damp streak on my cheek. He pauses, gauging my reaction, before taking it a step further by grazing the digit over my lips.
I flinch away from the contact and angrily swat his hand away. The action visibly pissing him off.
He's quick to grab my arm in a vice-grip, squeezing the limb enough to cause a noticeable discomfort. A hand grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him straight on.
"I was going to break down my new expectations for you tonight, but I see that someone needs some time to chill the fuck out. I'll let that little show of defiance slide for tonight, but you need to get your shit together real fast. We'll start fresh tomorrow. Now, what do you say?" Negan cocks his head to the side and displays a toothy grin. His grip tightens on my arm when I don't immediately respond.
"Th-thank you!" I whimper as the pain reached a near unbearable level.
Satisfied by my response, Negan releases me and finishes bandaging my wounds. He also looks over the abrasions on my knees from being forced to kneel on the rough ground, along with inspecting my neck for any bruising from sustaining multiple forceful pulls on the collar from Dwight.
"Eh, you'll be fucking fine." Negan lowers the collar back into place around my neck, having raised it slightly to get a better look.
In this position, I anticipate to feel another wayward grope but he surprisingly backs away and goes to reorganize the first aid kit.
I gladly take that as my cue to get ready for bed. I want nothing more than to have a few hours of bliss, especially knowing that tomorrow will be the start to our new arrangement.
Negan stays true to his word and gives me space for the remainder of the night so that I could 'chill the fuck out.'
"Wife duties start tomorrow." He happily reminded me as he snapped the chain into place on my collar. "Good night, wife."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I awaken to a startling surprise.
Daylight is spilling through the blinds. The clock on the nightstand reads 8:45 AM.
What the hell is going on? Negan has never allowed me to sleep this late. I'm usually up at least an hour before sunrise fixing his breakfast.
Things become even more peculiar when I notice that Negan is not in bed and that the chain is unhooked from the collar.
This doesn't make any sense.
I rise from my bed and move towards the bedroom door to investigate.
When I step into the hallway, I'm met with the intoxicating aroma of fresh bacon. My nose leads me to the kitchen where I stumble across Negan perched over a sizzling pan of bacon. His back is to me, giving me an opportunity to observe.
He is still clad in the white t-shirt and black sweatpants that he slept in, his usual slicked-back mane is tousled with pieces sticking out in various directions.
I spot a skillet of scrambled eggs on the back burner of the stove. It smells like there were biscuits in the oven as well.
I almost can't believe what I'm witnessing. One, Negan is never upstairs at this time of day, especially still dressed in his pajamas. Once he leaves at dawn, I don't typically see him again until noon. Two, who knew that the man knew his way around the kitchen? Apparently, he does know how to use the countless pots and pans in his possession.
"Dream on, dream on, dream on. Dream until your dream come true.' Negan bobs his head as he sings along to the rock tune on the radio. He removes the last few pieces of bacon from the pan and turns to place the platter of pork onto the island, at which point, he spots me.
"Good morning, my dear wife! I hope you're hungry." Negan motions toward the spread of food. "I made a shit ton of stuff!"
"What's the occasion?" I ask, though having already figured out the answer as soon as I spoke.
"I figured I would treat ya since it's our first full day as husband and wife. Why don't you go sit your pretty ass down? Pancakes will be done in a jiffy!"
I do as I'm told, taking a seat at the kitchen table. To my credit, I was able to avoid visibly cringing at his mentioning of 'husband and wife'; remembering his warning from last night about getting onboard with the new program.
"By the way," Negan interjects over his shoulder while flipping pancakes, "I took today off so that I could spend the entire time with you! We're going to have such an amazing fucking time!"
I'm lucky that he couldn't see my melancholy expression from his position in the kitchen. That would've resulted in a guaranteed reprimand.
A few minutes later, Negan proudly presents me a plate filled with bacon, eggs, buttermilk biscuits, and pancakes adorned with a blueberry smiley face.
He plops down in the chair across from with his own plate of food. "Dig in!"
I hesitate at first. Still leery towards the stark contrast in his demeanor compared to yesterday at the factory. It doesn't help that the meal is just another power play when it comes to me being his wife.
My resolve soon fades as the mouth watering aroma of the food overpowers any apprehensions. The first bite nearly causes my eyes to roll into the back of my head in pure satisfaction. The second and third bites send my palate on an incredible journey that I wish would never end. I've had good tasting food while here at the Sanctuary, that I prepared by the way, but it makes it more enjoyable when you're not the one preparing the feast.
"Damn, baby, if I had known that some good tasting food would get you undone like that, I'd have cooked for you sooner and sped this process along weeks ago!
I set my fork down, suddenly not hungry anymore, although there is still over half a plate of food in front of me. He just had to open his big mouth again.
"What's the process? What is it that you expect from me? I mean, I've practically been your personal slave for the past month and now you want me to be your wife?" I struggle to keep my tone levelled.
Negan groans in annoyance, pushing his plate to the side. "There goes the nice fucking breakfast…. Let me break it down for you, darlin'.'
'It's pretty simple – I give daddy a longer leash and pray that he doesn't find a way to hang himself with it. But I need something in return for being so generous, after all, I won't be getting as much money each week from now on. That's where you come in.' I can't help but shiver from the look he gives me.
'You see, it's been fucking amazing having you here with me this past month or so. You've really spoiled me, considering that I come home every night to a clean apartment and home cooked meals! I'm only asking for a little bit more from ya to compensate the shit from your father."
"'More,' as in sleeping with you?"
"That's certainly one hell of a perk about all of this!" Negan's smile all of a sudden fades. His brow furrows in seriousness. "But, only when you're ready"
"What if I don't want to?"
"Then the deal is off. You, in a way, hold all the power in this big dance we have going on. You keep me happy, I continue to show mercy to daddy. But, if you don't keep your end of the agreement, daddy gets what he had coming to him, plus more. Now, I know that is a mighty, big nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly will! Do you really have much of a choice at this point?'
I cover my face with my hands, overwhelmed by the new pressure placed on me. I can't fathom the fact that the lives of my father and I rest nearly entirely on my shoulders and my ability to please Negan.
He reaches out and caresses my arms. "It won't be that bad, pup! You have some perks too, if you show me that you're giving it your all. For starters, you get to enjoy my king-sized bed as opposed to the fucking floor, wives don't get chained to the bed – unless they're into that shit –," he adds with a wink. "And wives get pampered from time-to-time. I make more than enough cash in one fucking day to get you whatever your little heart desires. You want a new Redskins jersey for being so damn good? Done! You want some books to keep you occupied? I can do that.'
'I expect a lot from the people below me, but I treat them like fucking kings when they deliver. You bet your ass that I will treat you like a queen if you cooperate."
When I don't respond, Negan gently guides my hands off my face and places them in his. Softly rubbing the back of my knuckles.
"If you try, I'll try. I give you my word. Do you believe me?" His hazel eyes search mine for approval.
"I want to… but…" I can't finish the sentence. His words seemed sincere, but I can't bring myself to fully trust him. His actions have proven that he would say or do anything to get his way. What's to say that he isn't just telling me what I want to hear in order to further get what he wants?
I expect Negan to get angry with me, but he only lowers his head and exhales a heavy breath. Releasing my hands, he silently gathers our dirty dishes and returns to the kitchen to tidy his mess.
When he doesn't command me to join him in the cleaning, I reluctantly take the initiative to do so on my own, assuming it fell under one of my new expectations as a wife.
Negan stops me before I can even grab a dishtowel. "I got this. Go do whatever the fuck you want." He pushes me aside to get to the dishes on the island, not even bothering to make eye contact as he spoke to me.
"But you said –."
He slams a plate down onto the island, breaking it in two. "And now I'm saying that I don't need you right now. Do as you're fucking told! Go!"
I tuck tail and sprint out of the kitchen towards Negan's room, wanting to be as far away from his boiling temper as possible.
I shut the bedroom door and take refuge in the leather armchair. For once, I take the opportunity to gaze out the window directly beside me. The view overlooking the rear portion of the Sanctuary grounds. There isn't much to see besides the parked vehicles belonging to the Saviors on duty. However, the bleak scenery is enough to still my summersaulting mind, allowing me to begin to digest my inner thoughts and dilemmas.
I must give the man credit; he's a manipulative son of a bitch who knows how to play the game. He's figured out a way to get everything he wants – money, control, and now me. His conditions have forced me to reevaluate my positions on certain things. I realize that in order to keep him 'happy,' there is no way to avoid the inevitable…. I'm not proud of that decision, nor do I look forward to it, but in the end, it's a small sacrifice to make to ensure the safety of my father and I. God, give me strength when that moment arrives….
The piece of the puzzle that I am struggling most with, is his empty reassurances that I, in some way, will also gain a few comforts and pleasures for my commitment to him. Negan can call it whatever he wants, but in the end, I'm still his prisoner and he's still my captor. I've been living with the man for over a month, all the while cleaning, cooking, and tending to other duties.
Even with my daily, tedious chores, he has never brought up the notion of any kind of reward for my cooperation even though I constantly give 110%. Sure, I was allowed to see my father on one occasion, but that was a reward for his actions, not mine. Suddenly, Negan changes my title to 'wife' and I'm supposed to be convinced that magically means that he will change his way of doing things? I call bullshit on that.
I'll do what he wants, but don't insult my intelligence. That's like feeding me a pile of dog shit, then changing the name of it to 'premium' dog shit, and expecting me to believe that I'm now eating better quality shit when you're, in fact, feeding me the exact same damn thing.
Call it what it is, Negan, that's all I ask.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
An hour or so later, I hear a light knock on the door. Negan slowly enters, testing the waters to gauge my reactions after breakfast. Seeing that I'm more composed and level headed, he proceeds to sit in the chair across from me. He too, appears to have calmed down significantly.
"I just wanted to come check up on you. Our conversation didn't end on a good fucking note back there. That blowup wasn't planned, by the way." He adds with a chuckle. "But, just think about what I said, okay? Give me a chance to show you. I've told you before that there is more to me than what you see," Negan pleads, something that I've never witnessed from him.
I'm still not fully convinced, but the fact that he came seeking my approval again spoke volumes. I expected his actions to mirror that of when I rebuffed his sexual advances the other week. He does seem to fly off the handle whenever a situation doesn't go his way. Yet, that isn't happening now.
"I'll try, if you try." It's an answer laced with skepticism, but an answer nonetheless.
"Atta girl!" Negan beams at my response. He reaches out and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
Without another word, Negan stands to his feet, shuffles to his dresser, and starts pulling out clothes to change into. I don't think anything of it until he pulls out his red scarf; something that is only worn when he journeys outside of the Sanctuary.
"Wait, where are you going? I thought that you were staying home today?" I question as he's stepping into the bathroom to get ready.
"Yeah, about that," he sighs and rubs the back of his neck, "I'm sorry, but something came up, doll."
I'm not able to get in a reply before he abruptly shuts the bathroom door.
I knew it. So much for 'give me a chance to show you.' How can he expect me to take him at his word when he does shit like this when it's only the first day?
I'm still seething when he reappears, groomed and dressed with the crimson fabric draped around his neck.
"Simon will be in the other room. He'll get you whatever the fuck you want while I'm gone." Lucille is retrieved from her spot against the wall. Everything is in order for him to leave.
"Whatever," I mutter as he exits the bedroom. No longer even attempting to disguise the fit I was in.
The door was almost shut when Negan stops and takes a small step back into the room. Not even bothering to turn in my direction.
"Just give me a chance." He utters.
With that, he eases the door shut, leaving me alone.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"You doing alright, princess?"
This is the third time that Simon has checked up on me. I'm assuming Negan asked him to do so periodically because the lieutenant had never bothered to do so any other time.
I haven't left the bedroom since Negan departed a few hours ago. I just needed time alone.
I flash a small smile. "I'm fine, Simon. Thanks."
"Just holler if you need anything. I imagine that your hubby should be home soon." He winks before exiting.
'My hubby'…. That's certainly something that I must get used to.
The past few hours have been spent thinking and pacing the floor, two actions that I've done plenty of since being brought to the Sanctuary. It seems to be the only other activity there is besides cleaning. Negan doesn't own a single book and watching TV is out of the question. Negan has a TV in the living room but he admitted that he doesn't know why he bought one in the first place since he doesn't have time to enjoy it. I sure as hell wasn't allowed to use it.
I got it – I'll ask Negan to purchase a few books that I could read in my spare time. Who knows, I may be allowed to watch TV as a perk of being a wife!
The thought of that actually happening causes me to laugh out loud.
The only true privilege that I see Negan keeping his word on is allowing me to sleep in his bed. I'm truthfully dying to feel my body sink into the plush king-sized mattress. Who can blame me after sleeping on a few thin blankets on the hard floor for over a month? Adding the fact that I won't be chained anymore doesn't hurt either.
It's just a matter of getting over the fact that he will be in bed with me….
I cease my pacing, my eyes falling onto the object in question. The bed is still unmade from this morning. The thick, black comforter is half falling off the bed, pillows lay bunched up by the headboard, and the cotton sheets are starting to come off the mattress.
Now seems like a good time as any to start my wifely duties.
I strip the bed of its linens with the idea of simply replacing them with a clean set. It's too bad that Negan doesn't own a second set. This was realized after I had spent twenty minutes sifting through the linen closet, coming up empty handed.
I had no other choice but to wash what was already on his bed.
After a few hours, and once the final pillow was fluffed into place, I collapsed onto my back on the freshly scented linens. The memory foam mattress cradled my exhausted frame, easing the strain on my neck and back from sleeping on the floor for so long. I snuggled against the plush comforter, relishing in it's soothing softness. I can get used to this.
I'm temporarily pulled from the ecstasy of comfort when a light knock is heard on the bedroom door.
I prop up on my shoulder, presuming it to be Simon making his hourly checks.
Negan's smiling face greets me instead. He's propped against the doorframe, taking in the sight before him.
"Damn, darlin', you look mighty comfortable! Doesn't feel half bad, does it?"
"Let's just say that I see why you sleep so well." I run my hands across the comforter, smoothing it out from where I was laying.
"I'm going to sleep even better knowing that you're in it with me, right?" He crosses his arms over his chest.
My head nods as our eyes meet, showing him that I was being honest.
Negan's eyes soften at once. "Glad to hear it, darlin'. That's a step in the right direction.'
'This may sound crazy, but I need you to close your eyes. I've got a little surprise for you."
My eyes widen in worry and I can feel my heart rate quicken in my chest. Negan's idea of surprises aren't ones to be desired. His last surprise, the collar, is still strapped around my neck. What on Earth could he have up his sleeve now?
Not wanting to agitate him, I take a deep breath and force my eyes shut. Only when they are fully closed, do I hear Negan's heavy boots shuffle into the room.
"Open."
My hands fly over my mouth in pure shock at what I saw. I instantly recognize the object in Negan's hands.
A Martin guitar. Not just any Martin guitar, but one made of Maple with a glossy finish. A guitar that mirrors that of my mother's that my father was forced to part with as a way of earning enough money for Negan's payments.
"Oh my gosh…" I sob through my hands. I'm in absolutely awestruck.
Negan places the instrument in my lap, allowing me to get a better look at it. That is when I notice there is a deep scratch situated just below the bridge.
That's odd, mom's guitar had a similar indentation… Can it be….?
No. That's impossible.
I think back and remember that her guitar also had a nick on its neck from where I had mishandled the instrument as a child.
I hesitantly turn the guitar over and glide my fingers over the neck, feeling for the possible abrasion.
I freeze when my fingers trace over a half inch gash in the wood in the same exact spot as that on my mother's guitar.
This isn't just a similar model of guitar.
It is my mother's guitar.
I wrap the wood in my arms, holding it to my chest as my tears dampen its surface. I thought that I would never see it again, believing that a part of my mother was gone forever.
Joy doesn't do this moment justice.
Without even thinking, I place the guitar on the bed, stand to my feet, and wrap my arms around Negan in an emotional embrace.
He stiffens at first in surprise at the sudden contact, but his arms slowly drape around me, accepting the hug.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" My words are muffled from my face being pressed into his chest from the embrace. The joyful sobbing sure as hell isn't helping either.
Negan rests his chin on the top of my head and squeezes me closer to him. "Anything to show you that I meant what I said earlier. Your happiness matters in this arrangement, too. Do you believe me now?" I'm released as he holds me at arms length, awaiting a response.
There is no need to force my next statement. Negan went above and beyond what I would ever expect from him just to gain my trust and favor.
"After what you just did for me? Yes, I believe you, Negan."
Subtle dimples appear on his cheeks from his wide smile.
After a moment, he lowers his arms and sits on the bed, placing the guitar in his lap.
"You know, it took me all damn day to track this beauty down." He runs the palm of his hand along the Maple finish, admiring the craftsmanship.
I take a seat next to him on the bed. "How did you know?"
Negan knows about what happened to my mother, but I never once mentioned the guitar in any way.
"Remember the visit with daddy?"
I remember now – my father had mentioned during the visit that he was left with no other choice but to sell the guitar. Negan was present at the time and must have overheard our conversation.
"He talked about it too. Your old man was a fucking mess the week that he sold it. He told me all about how much it meant to you and him, trying to get me to feel sorry for him and cut him some slack.' He extends the guitar towards me, insinuating for me to take it, which I do.
'I knew when I saw that look in your eyes this morning that it was going to take a lot to show you that I wasn't bullshitting you. I knew what I had to do. So, I made a few calls and after an entire day of visiting a shit ton of pawnshops in a fifty-mile radius, I found it."
I can't believe it. Negan did all of that for me? He would've had better odds finding a needle in a haystack than locating a specific Martin guitar before it was resold by the shop. Yet, he succeeded.
My head drops in shame as the realization hits me – I hurled so much attitude towards Negan earlier for what I thought to have been a viable reason, when he was actually out performing a selfless duty for me.
"So, when you appeared to be going to work and skipping out on me…? I mutter, already knowing the answer.
"Yep, I was out there busting my ass just to prove to you that I wasn't a fucking ass. It's kinda ironic that you were actually the one being the ass!" Negan snickers, playfully smacking me on the shoulder.
Damn. The shoe is on the other foot for a change.
"Oh, don't feel bad, sweetheart! How were you supposed to know that I was going to surprise you with the one thing that means more to you than life itself?' Negan's smile fades when he sees the regret radiating off my face. Realizing that the idea of having misjudged him to such an extreme affected me.
'Look, if you feel that bad about it, how about you give me something in return to make up for it?' Negan removes his leather jacket and lays back on the massive mattress, hands situated behind his head.
'Sing me a song."
I stare at him in bemusement
"What?"
"Sing me a song," he repeats in an authoritative tone. "I spent all God damn day fetching that guitar for you, so now I want to kick off my boots and relax while you serenade me. Consider this your punishment for giving me a fucking attitude earlier."
"I don't know what to sing –."
"Bullshit! What did your dad used to play for you in the car?" He turns his head and peers at the guitar in my hands. His temper calms. "What's something that your mama used to play for you? Play something that she would enjoy."
This is one punishment that I can tolerate.
I rest the body of the guitar against my leg and situate my fingers along the fretboard. The all too familiar sensation of the strings grazing my fingertips sends me back to the nights when my mom and I would spend hours playing together. We would take turns performing our favorite songs, all of which were country songs by classics such as Conway Twitty, George Jones, Hank Williams, and Keith Whitley. Out of all those artist, my mom had a soft spot for Garth Brooks. She especially adored his rendition of 'To Make You Feel My Love.'
The melody would effortlessly flow from her lips to raise my spirits during the times when my little heart was shattered in two, whether it was from a bruised knee or after a challenging day.
I close my eyes and can immediately feel her with me. The chord patterns come naturally to me as I begin strumming the ballad.
"When the rain is blowing in your face and the whole world is on your case, I could offer you a warm embrace to make you feel my love…~'
Each word sung carries with it the memory of my mother. By the second verse, my voice waivers as I try to fight back the tears, but to no avail.
I open my eyes when I feel the bed shift. Negan stretches towards his nightstand and retrieves a box of tissues.
"Don't stop, darlin'. You sound wonderful. Let all that painful shit flow out, so that all is left to fill your mind is your mother's memory." He hands me a tissue and re-situates on the bed once I've composed myself.
I take a deep breath and continue.
'There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do. I'd go to the ends of Earth for you, to make you happy, make your dreams come true, to make you feel my love~."
Having strummed the final chord, I whisper a silent message to my mom, knowing that she is near.
We stay there in silence. Letting the moment play out before us.
"Your mom had a damn good taste in music," Negan whispers. His eyes remain closed from where he was listening to me play.
I can't help but chuckle at his comment. "That's only the tip of the iceberg. There is more where that came from." I playfully strum a few chords.
"Don't worry, there will be plenty of time for an encore, and you best believe that I'm going to take you up on it!"
With that, Negan shimmies off the mattress and heads towards his dresser to change into his sweatpants for bed.
I give the guitar one final embrace before laying it against an armchair. Even after putting it down, my hand lingers on the wood, part of me not wanting to let it go.
Negan comes up behind me and gently eases my hand off the guitar. "It's not going anywhere, I promise."
I nod my head and turn towards the bed. Pulling back the comforter and sheet, I wiggle underneath the linens and wait for Negan to turn off the light.
Negan stands at the foot of the bed in bewilderment.
"I thought that I was going to have to threaten you to get your ass in that bed with me! Here you go, settling on down like you've been sleeping there for years." His smirk reappears as he shakes his head. "You never cease to amaze me, darlin'."
"Like you said in the beginning, 'If you try, I'll try.' You stayed true to your end of the deal, now it's my turn to do the same."
Negan pushes the covers back and slides into bed before turning off the light.
"Good night, sweetheart," Negan mumbles into the darkness. Sleep already beginning to creep up on him.
I turn over onto my side closest to Negan. Propping myself up on my elbow, I lean towards his shadowed form and deliver a peck onto his cheek.
"Good night, Negan. Thank you, again, for today."
Returning to my side of the bed, I snuggle into the mattress and begin to drift off to sleep.
I'm sure that Negan will have a reply to that in the morning.
Edited by Spitfire47.
Thank you for reading! I hope that you guys enjoyed the update.
Any thoughts? I'd love to hear from you!