Crighton Dallas Wilton is nowhere to be found. West Georgia Correctional reported him missing the day of the murder, which Rick finds awfully suspicious. That doesn't exactly prove Crighton did it, but it definitely makes him a person of interest. Too bad he's gone off the radar. Now King County has a mass murderer on the loose.
No reason to panic or anything.
Carl, being a teenager, has nothing to do on a Friday evening, and since he's served his two-week house arrest punishment—and put up with more of Rick's shit than entirely necessary—Rick allows him to go to a friend's house. Carl chooses Enid, who lives only a couple blocks away, and Rick drives him there (much to Carl's dismay and embarrassment) and makes sure Enid's parents are home before letting Carl go inside the house. He's not taking any chances with some bloodthirsty murderer roaming the streets.
"Make sure you don't leave this house by yourselves," Rick warns him. Carl rolls his eyes. "I'm serious. Have one of her parents drive you home or wherever you want to go. No going off by yourselves."
"Okay, okay, I promise."
Rick doesn't think Enid and Carl will get into too much trouble while her parents are home. And if Carl thinks Rick approves of Enid's less law-abiding behavior, the allure of rebellion will chip away. At least, Rick's hoping it will.
But it's not like he's going to keep Carl cooped up in the house for the rest of his life. Let the kid live a little.
Parenting. It ain't for sissies.
When Rick gets back home, it's just him and Judith in the quiet house. Rick doesn't really have anything to do this evening, and while the idea of lazing on the couch watching Netflix all night is appealing, it's not very productive.
His phone feels like a block of hot lead in his jeans' pocket. Unable to resist its siren call, he pulls it out and types: I'm free tonight, if you're not doing anything.
Negan's reply is lightning-fast: Hot damn.
Rick sends Negan his address and waits.
It takes about five minutes for Negan to show up, knocking briskly on the front door like he's a peppy Mormon looking to spread the good news. Holding Judith in one arm, Rick opens the door to be greeted with Negan's impish, offensively-white smile.
"Well, how do, Sheriff Grimes?" Negan says in a Southern drawl so rich you could drizzle it over pancakes. "Do you often take gentlemen callers?"
"Drop the accent," Rick says with a smile. "You're a Yankee."
"Hi!" Judith pipes up, interrupting their banter.
Negan smiles at her, and Rick's a little disarmed himself. "Well, hey there. You must be Judith. I'm your Uncle Negan."
Rick gives him a sassy look.
"What, you wanna tell her the truth?"
He's got a point.
Rick lets Negan step inside. "It's her bedtime anyway."
"I hope she's a deep sleeper."
Rick feels his face flush. He carries Judith upstairs to her room, hears a second set of footsteps behind him. He turns his head to see Negan ascending the stairs. "You're just walkin' around like you own the place, huh?"
"Bed's upstairs, right? And I'm assuming you didn't call me over for a chat."
"If I didn't know better I'd think you only like me for my body."
"Well, it ain't half bad."
Rick hears himself laugh, then Judith laughs too, which throws him right the fuck off, because there's no way she understood that, is there?
"Aw, see, she thinks I'm funny," Negan says with glee.
"She's too young to know better," Rick volleys back.
Judith puts up minimal fuss about bedtime, but she's yawning through her protests, so Rick just tucks her into bed and waits for sleep to wash over her. He's acutely aware of Negan's presence loitering in the doorway, and it makes him vaguely self-conscious like Negan's judging his parenting skills.
"Hell of a nice place," Negan murmurs.
"It's a little too big now that it's just the three of us." Rick rises to his feet when Judith's eyes close in sleep. He places a hand on Negan's chest to ease him out of the doorway. Negan goes willingly, lets Rick clutch a hand in his shirt and pull him in the direction of the bedroom.
Negan cocks an eyebrow. "God damn, you're a buzzkill. You're not allowed to talk 'til we're finished."
Rick shuts the bedroom door with his foot, gets Negan on the bed and climbs into his lap. "You do enough talkin' for both of us," he says with a smirk. Negan is always pretty vocal about Rick's performance, huffing out profanity-laden compliments as they move together.
Negan gets Rick naked in record time (seriously, it's like a superpower), lifts Rick's hips up so he can sink him down on his cock. Rick groans a long, throaty noise, bowing over him as his body shakes. They've never done it this way before, but they fit together like two slotted puzzle pieces.
"C'mon, you can do it," Negan says, squeezing Rick's hips for a little jolt. Rick grunts and shifts, shoving back into the hilt of Negan's cock. Negan purrs in satisfaction, reaches over to the night table and grabs Rick's sheriff's hat. He drops it onto Rick's head and says, "Ride me, cowboy," with a grin, knowing he'll get a frowny, flushed expression out of Rick when he makes cowboy jokes.
Rick groans and tries to adjust the rhythm of his own hips to match Negan's. Their hands are clasped in an unusually intimate way as Rick sinks and rises on Negan's cock. Rick loves the stretched, full feeling, how Negan's dick twitches inside of him when he's close, the iron grip of wide hands wrapped around his hips, guiding him to move in just the right way.
Being with Negan is a learning experience, and Rick has already gathered that Negan's having a damn good time if he's forgotten words entirely and just grunting and moaning as the tension builds, which is exactly what's happening here. Their hips roll and clash together, and Rick folds over him again, this time shaking apart in a hot mess as his orgasm leaves him light-headed and breathless.
"Fuck," Negan swears, plunging into him with quick, needy thrusts, "I didn't say you could come yet."
"Too late," Rick gasps.
"No talking." Negan's grip tightens, and Rick fucking loves the dig of his fingers, then Negan's making broken noises and filling him up hot and wet. Rick takes it all with a full-body shudder, melting over Negan like a popsicle on a hot sidewalk. "Mmm-mmm-mmm," Negan rumbles, his fingers playing in the damp hair at the back of Rick's neck. "I may have said this before, but you, sir, are a mag-fucking-nificent screw."
Rick's still trying to remember how to breathe. He pushes himself up so he can see Negan's face. "You're not too bad yourself."
Negan gives him a lazy smirk and flicks the brim of Rick's hat with a pop of his fingers. "You've got an awful smart mouth. Must be where Carl gets it."
"He doesn't give you any trouble, does he?"
"No, but his pain-in-the-ass father does." Negan grins, all cocky and self-assured, and Rick wants to kiss his stupid delectable mouth.
Hold the phone. That's weird. He shouldn't be thinking about that. It shouldn't even cross his mind.
Rick just rolls off him and onto the empty space beside Negan on the bed. He stares at the ceiling, tries not to think about Lori or the last time they laid in this bed together. Rick would never cheat on Lori, so the fact that he's here now with someone else means she's truly gone. And the urge to kiss Negan raises more disturbing possibilities that Rick isn't ready to face right now.
"You've never brought anyone here before, have you?" Negan asks, as though reading Rick's mind.
"No."
"Well, don't I feel like the belle of the ball?"
"I told you to stop talkin' like you're in Gone With the Wind."
Negan turns his head to stare at the side of Rick's face. "You first."
Rick gives him a playful smack on the arm. "You don't get to complain about how I talk, Yankee. For God's sake, you root for the Tigers," he says, referring to Negan's Detroit Tigers t-shirt discarded on the floor.
"The Braves suck, Rick. Get over it."
Rick laughs to himself. Never in the past two years has he felt as happy as he does with Negan. Even just these little moments capture something Rick has desperately needed: closeness, feeling like he's at least halfway alive again. And Negan does it seemingly effortlessly, like it's not costing him any emotional energy to share this intimacy with him, so Rick's free to take and take like a laboratory mouse hoarding treat pellets, because he knows Negan can afford to give it.
It's hard not to fall a little in love with someone like that, someone who can breathe life back into long-dead lungs.
Rick forces himself up and finds his clothes on the floor.
"Kickin' me out already?" Negan says. "You sure aren't big on hospitality."
Rick steps into his shorts. "Thought you might be hungry."
"For your cooking?" Negan scoffs, and Rick pouts at him.
"Go downstairs and see what you can tolerate." Rick hears the mattress groan under Negan's shifting weight as he ducks inside the bathroom to freshen up.
When Rick gets dressed and down the stairs, he finds Negan digging through the fridge. He's wearing his t-shirt and jeans, his leather jacket slung over the top of the couch. He looks, Rick thinks, like he belongs here.
"How old is this take-out?" Negan asks, his head poking out of the refrigerator.
"Two days?" Rick guesses.
"Good enough." Negan pulls out the styrofoam container and finds a fork in one of the drawers. He hip-checks the drawer closed, moves for the couch.
"You're not leavin' any for me?"
"We can share."
Rick makes a face.
"So you'll let me put my dick in your ass, but you won't eat out of the same container as me?" Negan rolls his eyes. "You're an idiot, Grimes."
A crude albeit salient point. Rick grabs a fork and joins him on the couch.
God, this is weird. This is so fucking weird, and it should feel weird, but it doesn't. It's almost natural, like Negan could easily fill the voids in Rick's life. Like he was meant to.
Rick steals a glance at him. The sleeve of Negan's shirt is hitched up just enough to expose part of the tattoo on his right arm. Rick wants to touch it, trace it with his finger, but that's probably a little more tender and personal than they ought to be.
Don't fuck this up, Rick tells himself. It's better to have Negan on-call for no-strings sex than lose everything on a gamble that he might want to date Rick. Didn't Negan say he wasn't looking for a relationship?
Rick's really fucking glad he's got an appointment with Denise tomorrow. He could definitely use a sounding board who's sworn to secrecy.
"You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" Negan says around a mouthful of fried rice. "About that poor bastard who lost everything."
Sure, let's go with that.
Rick gives a noncommittal nod, spears a piece of beef. "Hard not to."
"You gotta learn to compartmentalize that shit."
"And how's that working out for you?"
"Other people's shit? Gone and fucking forgotten." Negan takes another bite. "C'mon, Rick, you should be used to this by now."
"I know, it's just... His whole world. Gone. Just like that." Rick shakes his head. "Accidents are bad enough. But murder... To have a person decide to end your life, that's playing God in the most ungodly way."
Negan eats in silence. Rick half-heartedly tugs at the container so he can get a few bites before Negan devours the whole thing.
"And his kids were so young, just barely older than Judith," Rick continues. "Nobody deserves to die like that."
"Well, maybe the guy who killed them," Negan says with a shrug.
Rick nods and makes a noise of agreement. They sit there for a moment and eat until Rick asks, "How'd you meet Lucille?"
Negan smiles fondly as though reminiscing. "She was the receptionist at the office where I got my divorce."
"You were married before?" Rick isn't sure why he's surprised by that, but by the way Negan reveres Lucille it gives the impression there were no other women (or men, for that matter) in his life.
"I was, and she was a serious bitch. Wouldn't give up without a fight, so I ended up at that office a lot. And I guess Lucille liked what she saw. After the papers were signed she asked me, 'wanna get a drink and have sex?' and I fucking loved how goddamn blunt she was. So I said yes." Negan looks at Rick. "What about you and Lori?"
Rick grabs a forkful of rice. "Shane set us up. She was a friend of whatever girlfriend Shane had at the time. We had reservations at a nice restaurant outside of town. It's not there anymore."
"Must not've been that nice."
Rick fights a smile. "Lori and I thought things'd go south once Shane and his girl broke up, but everything was fine between us. I'm still not really sure what she saw in me."
"Chicks dig a man in uniform."
"Apparently so do you."
"I'm a simple man with simple pleasures," Negan says, draping an arm over the back of the couch, like he wanted it to fall over Rick's shoulders but missed the mark, and Rick yearns.
"I met someone," Rick says, pacing the floor of Dr. Denise Cloyd's tiny office. There is no fainting couch like in the movies, just a couple chairs (a leather, wheeled one for Denise and two basic ones for patients), a large wooden desk, and a small assortment of potted plants. Along the wall is a bookshelf crammed with various textbooks and non-fiction books.
Rick has brought Judith along today, and she's sitting in Rick's chair as he moves about the room like a sluggish caged lion. Her attention is focused entirely on the oversized book in her hands; she can't read on her own yet, but she likes the pictures.
"You did? That's great!" Denise says. "That's progress! How do you feel about that?"
Rick drags a hand through his hair, stares out the second-floor window and watches the cars go by on the street below. "It's complicated. I'm starting to feel things, things I haven't felt in a long time. And I'm afraid to take that step, 'cause if I'm wrong, if this isn't—It could screw everything up."
"What does Carl think about you starting to date again?"
Rick shakes his head. "I haven't told him. He's okay with it in theory, but... There are a lot of reasons he wouldn't accept it."
"Want to tell me about them?"
Rick does; that's why he's here. Denise is bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. Nothing he says here will leave this room. He can be completely honest with no repercussions.
"It's a guy," Rick says, letting that one sink in. Denise looks unsurprised. "Carl doesn't even know I'm—I mean, Lori and I raised him not to judge, but... I'm his father. It's different. And the guy is someone Carl doesn't like, so I don't know how he would handle that."
"Those don't sound like unsurmountable obstacles. Carl might be able to accept it, given some time."
"Well, what about everyone else?" Rick says, turning to face her. "You think people are just gonna quietly accept the widowed sheriff dating again—dating a guy? No, it's gonna be a huge thing. And I know they mean well, but I already let them feed off my pain over losing Lori. They don't get to have this too."
It's something he's never really voiced before, and a sick, twisted part of him is grateful Eastman is now the town's sob story, that the crown of tragedy has been passed on to some other poor fucking sap who must endure being coddled by well-meaning onlookers to his grief.
"How does the guy feel about this?" Denise asks.
Rick shrugs. "I don't know if a relationship is something he wants. I don't know if it's something I want either, but I'm feeling things and thinking things... I didn't use to think about that stuff before."
"What do you want to do?"
"I want to try." Rick imagines telling Negan about the way his heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest when he looks at him, and a weird mix of nausea and glee rears up in his gut. Then he thinks about Negan's probable response: a chilling laugh and grin of cold amusement, as though he can't believe Rick Grimes is fucking naïve enough to fall for him like a schoolgirl. "I thought I fuckin' told you the law of the land, Rick," Negan would say. "None of this boyfriend shit. Do you really think I wanna stick around and raise your kids and do all that domestic horseshit, like we're some picturesque gay couple in a Hallmark ad?" He would laugh and fix Rick with that stare that shakes him up inside. "You really thought you had me, didn't ya, Sheriff?"
"Do or do not," Denise says. "There is no 'try.'"
"Did you really just quote Star Wars?"
Denise gives him a sheepish smile. "If the shoe fits."
Rick starts pacing again. "I want to tell him, but I can't. 'Cause if he doesn't..."
"It seems very important to you that he's part of your life."
"'Cause he gets it," Rick says. "He lost his wife too."
"Do you think it's possible he might be feeling the same way about you?"
Rick hears himself laugh. "No. No way."
"And why is that?"
Because he's Negan, Rick wants to say. He tries to think of a less ridiculous reason, but all of them fall apart before they leave his mouth. Negan fell hard for Lucille, so clearly romantic attraction is not alien to him. He finds Rick attractive enough to bang, so there's that. And he seemed wistful when talking about his potential future as a father, so Rick's having children might not be a dealbreaker.
All Rick can do is sort of shrug as if to say because reasons. Which isn't the best argument, but it's all he's got.
"Speaking as Denise the Friend, can I give you my opinion?"
"Knock yourself out."
"I know it's scary, and you probably thought all this was behind you when you got married, but sooner or later you're gonna have to try again. And I'm happy for you that you feel ready enough to try here, that you're even thinking about it. But you'll never get anywhere if you don't take that step."
Rick doesn't believe in fate or a guiding hand engineering circumstances or events. Things just happen, through people's action or inaction. But he can't see this cluster of bad omens as anything but flashing neon signs warning him against pursuing anything with Negan. If Rick wrote out a pros and cons list, the cons would read:
- Everyone all up in your business for the remainder of time, because, yeah, Aaron and Eric Raleigh are King County's token gay couple, but neither of them are the town sheriff and a grungy smart-ass high school coach.
- Carl will hate you for the rest of his life, or at least until he's out of college.
- An elected official will probably have zero trouble being openly not-heterosexual in a state where it's legal to fire someone because of their sexuality.
So yeah, there's the fact that both Rick and Negan could lose their fucking jobs over this.
Is it really worth it?
Look at the pros, then.
- Mind-blowing sex (Yeah, Rick's putting that on the top of the list. Sue him).
- Someone to come home to at the end of the day and wake up next to in the morning.
- Another parental figure in the lives of Judith and Carl.
- Feeling less broken when you're with him.
God, that last one is so important Rick's almost willing to throw caution to the wind on that alone.
"Rick?" Denise says, because Rick's been pacing the floor of her office for a while now, and it's probably irritating as all hell. "You seem to be in deep thought."
"Yeah, I'm just thinking." Captain Obvious. "About telling him. Maybe I should."
"It's your decision, Rick, but speaking as Denise the Friend again, I think you'll be a lot happier if you do."
Rick thinks so too.
Now if only he could stop being a chickenshit and just tell Negan.