Summary: Every month, there's a detour in your routine that fascinates Simon beyond all measure.
Warnings:
N/A.
Prompt:
B is for BREAD.
A/N: Here begins me bullshitting about The Sanctuary, not even bothered about it lmao.

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Simon's eyes follow you as you begin your typical monthly routine.

He doesn't know where you go - but he does know that you rack up the points for an extra bread roll before disappearing up the rickety metal staircase. It isn't a requirement for you to sit in the cafeteria for lunch– this isn't highschool– but he can't understand why you wouldn't. It's easier; it's closer; it's where all the friends you've made are.

Today, the mystery ends. He'd decided a month ago that he'd be following you up there one of these days, curious to see what you were up to, and he feels it's time to make good on his word.

As he ascends the stairs, he can't help but think about you. He'd been sceptical of your abilities at first, so gentle and tender in such a hostile world, but he'd quickly learned that your backbone was made of steel. Your willingness to work had won most over. Your smile flustered a few too. While you'd started with menial labour, it had quickly become apparent that you were better used as a scavenger. Your small frame lent itself well to agility, and the swift nature of your feet made you a horrendous opponent in any feat that required speed. It seemed like an easy call to make. You may not have been willing to hurt people, but when surrounded by the big guns, it was never you that had to.

He still doesn't understand how you've made it this far being so nice, though. Hell, even Negan had been surprised by your sunny disposition.

"The hell did you just say to me?"
"I… I said I like your bat, sir."
"... ho-ly
shit, Simon wasn't kidding about you!Is your pussy as cute as the rest of you, doll?"

Simon's mouth curls upwards into a mean little smirk at the memory. You'd blushed bright red and stammered foolishly, shuffling away from your new leader while he laughed at your expense. Still, he'd been in a great mood for the remainder of the day.

As he arrives on the top floor, he starts down the corridor only to realise that he can't see you. He eyes each door briefly, his brow furrowing. He can't envision you eloping with somebody– not you– but he trains his ears nonetheless, keen to discover where you've gone.

When Dwight exits one of the rooms, he wastes no time in approaching him. "Hey. Did you see where [Y/N] went?"

Dwight gestures over his shoulder with his head, motioning to the big metal door that leads to the roof. "She went up there."

With a reserved "okay", Simon departs, pushing the door open as quietly as he can manage. It's a heavy thing, and the latch clicks loudly, but the wind swallows the sound whole.

He rounds the corner to find you with your back to him, crouched near the lip of the building Not close enough to be perilous, but close enough to make him feel wary. It's a hot day, the sun beaming down on the world with enough vigour to scald, but the breeze up top is substantial. You're small; he imagines that one gust of particularly strong wind could blow you over.

Simon whistles that familiar tune, the one ingrained into all of the Saviours, and he watches the hairs on the back of your neck raise in response. Like a little hedgehog preparing to defend itself.

"What'cha doing?" he calls, the draught carrying his sing-song tone to you like a message via carrier pigeon. "Nothing untoward, I hope."

Briefly, his mind flits to treason. He doesn't see why you'd come up here unless it's to take advantage of the privacy.

You swivel in place until you're looking at him, standing up carefully. Half a bread roll is in your hands.

"Hi, Simon!" you greet, the cool breeze shifting your hair over one shoulder as you smile at him. "I'm feeding the birds."

He blinks, his brow slowly furrowing. Out of all the things you could have said, that one wasn't even on the list. His eyes flit to the bread in your hands, then to the scattered crumbs by your feet. There's a distinct lack of birds in the area, but that doesn't seem to be raining on your parade.

"... huh?"

You beckon him over insistently, and he's so stupefied by your excitement that he obliges. You put your hand on his shoulder and pull him down to your level, pointing at a distant tree. "There's a flock of pigeons in there," you tell him happily. "I'm trying to coerce them over here to eat."

"Is that such a good idea?" he questions drily, giving you a dubious look. "You're wasting food, too."

"We make bread," you reason. You might be happy-go-lucky, but you certainly aren't stupid. There's not a chance in hell that you'd throw food to animals if it wasn't renewable. The kitchen staff in The Sanctuary truly are some of the most underrated members of the team, and you're grateful for their service. "There'll always be more of that."

"It costs ingredients," Simon says, though he sounds deterred. "... flour."

"We grow wheat," you reply with a smile, nudging him with your elbow. "It's once a month. I don't think I'm going to make that great a dent in the food bank with my single bread roll, no?"

"Alright, smartass." He could very well tell Negan about this. He knows deep down that he won't be half as willing to let it slide as he is… but what the hell is the point? You're right. It doesn't set them back at all in the grand scheme of things, and your momentary joy costs something that they can replenish ten-fold by themselves with a single harvest. Under normal circumstances, it'd be different, but The Sanctuary is far from normal. They're building something here, something that mimics the world they once knew. Not many places can boast that nowadays. "... you spend your points on this?"

"Yeah," you say, releasing him in favour of scattering more crumbs on the ground. "I miss seeing animals everywhere. We used to have bird-feeders in the garden before…" Your words trail off. Everyone who's left knows what 'before' means. "... my dad built bird-houses and nailed them into the trees on our property. All year round, we'd have families nesting in our back garden. After the turn, they all flew away and never came back." Your lips purse before you look up at him. "Do you think they migrated somewhere nice?"

The smile he gives you is grim, and you both know that the answer is 'no'. This infection isn't an American thing; it infected the globe, knocking down civilisation as if it was balanced on little more than a javelin. In a tone that's as kind as it is spiteful: "Maybe."

You give him a smile that's as thin as water before looking away again, the wind cool against your face. You tip your head back and let it soothe your flushed skin, your eyes falling closed. You'll have to go back inside soon and prepare for your next run. You're heading out with your group, and you're not looking forward to the car ride. Not in this heat.

Your eyes open when you hear Simon chuckle beneath his breath.

"What?"

He makes the same sound, though it becomes a laugh this time. It's soft, and accompanying it is a sage shake of his head. Amusement. "I thought you were going to be doing something bad. Something I'd have had to tell Negan about," he admits, fingers tapping idly against his belt. It's almost as if he's irritated with you. "And here you are, trying to feed goddamn birds." He looks at you then, brown eyes more gentle than they were before. "You really are just so… harmless. Are you sure your head's screwed on right?"

You simper meekly. "Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who does. It's not a bad thing to be nice."

"It is in this world," he informs you soberly. "Might I remind you that the dead have risen?"

"The dead aren't really the problem anymore. It's the living that scare me."

Simon stares at you pointedly, and the air between you crackles with tension that wasn't there before. You take a careful step back, fingers forming dull crescents in what's left of your roll. "Do I scare you, [Y/N]?"

You consider his question seriously, feeling your mouth go dry. Your relationship with Simon is questionable. Now that you're part of his group, he doesn't frighten you in the same way that he did when you first met, but he's still intimidating. He hides it well when surrounded by his own, shielding his brutish nature with a goofy smile and uncouth jokes, but beneath it lies a dangerous right-hand man with a penchant for violence. You see him in a better light for you walk on the same side of the path, but you've seen how he treats his enemies– how he digs his heels into their necks and laughs as they choke.

Your heart picks up speed traitorously, and it suddenly occurs to you how isolated you are from the rest of the Saviours.

Simon's a wolf - and you're the lamb he's sizing up.

"No," you mumble finally, feeling as if you're going to combust beneath his unflinching gaze. He stirs you up inside, provokes feelings that you never imagined you'd feel. Fear as fresh as daisies. "You're my friend," you hazard, feeling as if the sun is now a sweltering spotlight. You sweat beneath its luminous attention, desperate for his cool façade to crack. "You've always taken care of me when we go on missions together." You're aware that that doesn't constitute friendship– you're not dumb, you're not fucking dumb– but you're trying desperately to grapple with the conflicting feelings of security and adrenaline. You can't even say that you're afraid; more like titillated. Deliciously nervous. "And you let me keep my blanket."

He regards you with an unreadable look before giving you a wide, jolly smile. "Good! I'd hate to be working with somebody that was afraid of me. It's bad for flow, ya know? Teamwork's the grease and all that."

You both know that he isn't being completely truthful, that he quite likes it when people fold because of him, but you don't know if that same sadism extends to you or not. You've been nervous around him from the beginning. He's never had to exert power over you.

You're distracted by him reaching out and tearing a piece of your bread free, feeding it into his mouth with a playful smirk.

"C'mon then," he urges, gesturing to your bread. "You're not going to attract any birds like that."