"The serving size for this says four," Simon stared at me, plastic spoon in hand. I glanced up at him, raising my eyebrows as he leaned back in his chair. His room was spacious, but cozy. I liked it. Not to intricate, not to simple.

"I have a philosophy," I waved my spoon at Simon, licking cream from my lips. "If the serving size says four, its two. If it says six, its three. Etcetera."

"You like food?"

"Yeah. It's the only thing I can rely on to be good to me," I stifled a laugh. Simon was still watching me, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "This shit is good."

"We have more," Simon said. "And…let me think, liquor, too."

"I only like fruity stuff," I shrugged, letting out a belch which tapered off into a whimper. I ducked my head, embarrassed, before realizing that Simon was laughing.

"Excuse you," Simon chuckled. I nodded, wiping my mouth and setting the carton of gelato on the table. When I looked up, Simon was licking his spoon.

"So," I said slowly. "What's your story?"

"My story? I don't have one," Simon replied boldly. He fiddled with his spoon, not meeting my eye. "What about you?"

"I don't like talking about myself."

Simon made a face, standing and walking towards his cabinet in the corner of the room. He craned his neck, peering at the extensive collection of bottles on each shelf. He grimaced and said, "Don't have any fruity stuff. Sorry. You'll have to go ask Negan."

"I'm not an alcoholic, like Gregory. I'll be fine."
"You sure?" Simon replied, glancing over at me. He shut the cabinet door and walked over, pulling up a chair so he could sit even closer to me than he was before. "I'm trying to make sure you feel at home. You don't have to be afraid."

"The gelato won me over," I shrugged. I wasn't sure how I felt about him being so close…

You like it!

He smells nice.

We know!

"I want, uh…I don't know what I want," I looked up and down at Simon. "You go first. What do you want?"

Simon pulled away a bit, scratching the back of his neck. "Gelato was step one. We did that…"

"Uh, shit," I knew what he was implying. I could see it in his eyes. Or could I? I was bad at flirting. I was terrible at most things, but flirting or taking hints especially. Looking into Simon's dark eyes, I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his as softly as I could.

Simon immediately responded, smiling and gripping my hand. I pulled away, a bit dazed. It was taking me a while to process what had happened and what was, currently, happening. Simon's big hands were on my waist, then my chest and neck, fingers skimming across every exposed piece of skin. He kissed me again, and I felt his facial hair brush against my lips.

He kisses like a goddamn saint. If saints could kiss.

"You okay?" Simon brushed his thumb across me cheek, dipping his head so he could peer into my eyes. "Hey, uh…don't…if you don't want to do this, we don't have to."

Is he asking you to fuck?

I opened my mouth to reply, but the door beat me to it. Simon glanced up, unperturbed as Negan slid into the room, Lucille draped across his shoulder.

"Si — are you two about to fuck?"

That's what I want to know!

Simon stood, rigid as a board. He refused to meet Negan's eyes, gathering the gelato from the table and hurrying towards the mini fridge in the corner of his room.

"I can fuckin' leave, Simon," Negan grimaced and gestured to the door. "If you wanna pound her pussy like a Cherokee drum, I sure as fuck won't stop you."

The fuck?

This man is high on some wack shit.

"Negan," Simon hissed, sounding rather embarrassed. Negan laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder, nodding his head towards me.

"I want to see the fucking doctor for a second. I'll let you two continue your gelato fuck-fest tonight."

I stood, hesitantly shuffling behind Negan. Simon gave me a simple nod, his hand brushing against mine as he walked past. As soon as the door to Simon's room clicked shut, Negan leaned in close.

"Goddamn. Did you see the way he was fucking looking at you?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

Negan stopped, swinging around to stare down at me. He said, "Really? Fucking really — his dick looked ready to play pop goes the fucking weasel. You didn't notice that shit?"

"I wasn't looking at his dick."

"You fucking should. I heard it's pretty fucking big," Negan nudged me in the ribs, and I curled in on myself even more. Sensing that I was uncomfortable, Negan rolled his eyes and said, "Kidding. I'm fucking kidding, alright?"

"I just don't know how close we are to breaking that barrier," I stammered.

"Like, when it's appropriate to fart or burp in front of you. When can I make jokes about you looking like the brother from Everybody Loves Raymond?"

Asking the important questions, here.

"Honey," Negan squeezed my shoulder, the look on his face soft and sincere. "Trust me. You can fucking fart in front of me any time."