The road was long, dark, and the car was quiet. Rick made no move to start a conversation with Negan, and he didn't seem to want to do the same either, despite the smile still on his lips. In fact, Negan hadn't moved at all. He still had his gun in hand, pointed at Rick, his other hand giving Rick's thigh the occasional rub. It was like an afterthought, an "oh, my hand is still here", and Negan responded with another press, the drag of his palm against fabric. It made Rick's skin prickle with anticipation, excitement, and a bit of fear. He barely knew the man, but Rick felt like he knew him, or at least the image of Negan he chose to portray. But Rick had watched him when he was alone, when Negan sat on his porch in the evenings and played with a stray cat.

Rick glanced at Negan from the corner of his eye, to find Negan already staring at him, the dark eyes narrowed in concentration. He looked back at the road, knitting his brows. Negan wasn't going to break the silence, and Rick had a comment on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed and tightened his hold on the steering wheel. "For the leader of a group of hitmen," Rick started, "you're a lousy shot."

The statement lingered in the air, and Rick was hesitant to turn and see Negan's reaction. Lucky for him, he didn't have to move his eyes from the road to experience his reaction. Negan squeezed his thigh and leaned forward, pressing the gun right to Rick's cheek. At the cool touch of metal, Rick jumped, sliding to the edge of his seat, chest almost against the steering wheel. Negan dug his fingers into his leg. "What did you just say to me?" he asked, voice low.

Dare he repeat it? Rick chewed on his lower lip, trying his best to keep his eyes ahead. He couldn't wreck. That would be bad for both of them. Negan must know that. Rick sniffed. "I said, for being a leader of a group of hitmen, you're a lousy shot." He turned his head, then, Negan pulling the gun back. Rick met Negan's eyes, holding his gaze. "You had a clear shot of me, and you barely got my shoulder." Rick looked back at the road. "Lousy shot."

Negan leaned back, hand moving from Rick's thigh to rest on his own. He laughed. "That was lousy, wasn't it?" Rick sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment in an attempt to relax. "Hey, Rick. Let me tell you a little secret. I think you earned it." Rick tipped his head to the side, turning part of his attention to Negan. Negan turned the gun over in his hands and shrugged. "This? It's not loaded. I only had one bullet, and I used it on you." He dropped the weapon on the floor. "Useless. Still makes people scared, though."

Rick found himself smiling. "Need to be better prepared. Although, it must not be a big deal, if you aren't going out and doing jobs." He settled back in his seat, bending his arm in a way to not strain his shoulder. "How do you manage being a high school teacher and doing… this?"

Negan was quiet for a moment. "You're right. I don't go out and do jobs as often as I have in the past. Trust me, the whole bloodthirst is still there." Negan threw up his arms, waving his hands. "No idiot has been compelling enough to off, I guess." He leaned an arm on the window, knuckles pressing into his cheek. "You never know, Rick. I might get back into it. What did Maggie say? A test run for a month? Might as well do some fucking running myself."

Rick hummed and turned down Negan's street. "I saw you at the school. You were with Carl. You guys seem to get along."

"The kid's a little shit, but I care about him." Negan shifted in his seat as the car slowed to a stop. "I thought I saw you. You had on a pair of fucking shades."

"You were wearing glasses, too." Rick stopped the car and looked over at him. "What are they for, reading?"

Negan took off his seatbelt and picked up his gun. "Can't wear fucking glasses when I'm killing. That's not cool." He opened the door and slid off his seat. Negan turned, leaning against the door. He studied Rick, head tipped to the side and lips pursed. "I meant what I said. No hard feelings. Business is business."

Rick nodded, hands rubbing the steering wheel. "Okay."

He smiled. "Cool. Come inside."

"What?"

"Come inside, Rick. I shot you. The least I could do is patch you up." Negan scratched his face. "I heard you talking with Maggie after I left. Gas station bathroom? Get real. I have fucking… Tylenol and shit." He pushed off from the car and turned, walking toward his house, as if expecting Rick to follow without complaint. Rick sat there, watching Negan as he dug in his pocket for his house keys. The rational side of Rick wanted to drive away, but the other part of him wanted to get out of the car and follow Negan inside. He waited, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel, and then got out of the car.

Carol was watching Carl and Judith. She understood what the job entailed.

It was odd, walking into Negan's house invited. The house gave off a more welcoming ambiance this time. Rick appreciated it, though the other times when he wasn't feeling welcome were his own fault. He trailed after Negan, who went through the dark house without turning on a light. The only light he switched on was in the bathroom. Rick lingered in the doorway, as Negan looked at his reflection in the mirror.

He scrunched up his face, wrinkling his nose, and pulled his scarf off. "Damn, I'm lucky you didn't break it." Negan tossed the scarf at Rick, who unceremoniously caught it. "You got a thick fucking head." Rick offered a small smile and threw the scarf in the direction of the bedroom. When he looked back into the bathroom, Negan was shrugging off his leather jacket and dropping it on the toilet. Underneath the jacket, Negan was wearing a t-shirt. It wasn't anything Rick hadn't seen him in before, but he still found himself staring.

Negan watched Rick in the mirror, tongue poking out from the corner of his smile. He spun on his heel and reached into the bathroom closet, grabbing a washcloth. Negan returned to the sink, holding the cloth under the water. "See something you like, Rick?" he asked.

Rick's mouth was dry. He swallowed and leaned against the doorframe. He had spent weeks watching Negan, cataloging his moves, and staring at picture after picture after picture of the guy. He had to be quiet, not tell anyone what he was up to, but now? He didn't have to be quiet. Rick crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. "Yeah, I do."

The answer seemed to catch Negan by surprise. Negan raised his brows and stood up straight. He looked at Rick's reflection and then turned, looking fully at Rick. Negan stared at him, lips parted, the same incredulous expression on his face. "Rick," he started, shaking his head. Negan faced forward, smiling again. He lifted the rag to his face, dabbing at his nose, scrubbing at his upper lip. "I didn't expect you to answer that."

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to." Rick couldn't see Negan's mouth, but he suspected there was a smile beneath that rag. Rick ducked his head down, staring at a spot on the floor. He listened as Negan hummed.

Negan finished wiping off his face, the only stains on his skin being the newly formed bruises on his cheeks and nose. He set the washcloth on the sink's edge, sticking his hand into his pocket to take out his phone. He glanced over at Rick before looking down at the device. Rick watched as Negan tapped away at the screen and then set it down on the counter. He said, "I have something else to tell you, Rick," as a jazz song began to play from his phone. It sounded like it was nearing the end. "Sit down first. Let me look at your shoulder." Negan picked up his leather jacket and moved to drape it over the clothes hamper.

Rick said nothing, only peeled off his coat and set it aside, with Negan's. He worked on unbuttoning his shirt, looking over and seeing the extent of the injury. It was just a graze, but it still tore through skin and brought blood. Quite a bit of blood. Rick had suffered through worse. Nothing was comparable to what he had endured. Rick looked over at Negan, raising his own brow and sliding his shirt off. "See something you like?"

The jazz song ended and transitioned into the next song. Rick frowned, and Negan's eyes widened. "I like this song," he said and went to turn it up. Rick rolled his eyes and sat down on the toilet, shifting to give Negan his shoulder. Negan bopped around as he dug in the medicine cabinet, pulling out peroxide and bandages. "Ro mah, ro-mah-mah," he murmured, spinning toward Rick. "Gaga oh-la-la, want your bad romance." Negan laughed as he refolded the washcloth, wetted it, and began to lightly dab at Rick's shoulder. "To your question, Rick, yes, I do."

Negan hunched over, concentrating on cleaning Rick's shoulder up the best he could. "Don't need stitches," he said, straightening up and reaching for the peroxide. He opened the bottle and poured a bit on the rag. Negan glanced at Rick. "This is going to hurt like a bitch," he said and pressed the rag to the wound.

Rick grabbed his knees and dug his fingers in. He screwed up his face and pressed his lips together, trying his hardest not to let out more than a muffled yell. He leaned forward, his head pressing into Negan's side. Above him, he heard Negan sing again as he wiped at the injury. "I want your love, and I want your revenge. You and me could write a bad romance." Rick squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in.

This was worth it, he tried to remind himself. If that got infected, there would be loads more pain. By the time Negan was finished wiping it down, the pain had subsided to a dull ache. He tossed the rag on the sink and tore a part of gauze off. Negan carefully pressed it to the bullet wound and paused. "Hold that," he said. Rick lifted his hand and rested his hand over the bandage, looking at Negan. "Tape's in the kitchen." He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Rick on the toilet with a burning shoulder and a Lady Gaga song. Rick could still hear Negan in the kitchen, his deep voice and specific manner of talking almost butchering the lyrics.

"J'veux ton amour, et je veux ta revanche. J'veux ton amour." Negan returned to the bathroom, pointing at Rick with the medical tape. "I don't wanna be friends."

Rick stared at him. Negan stuck out his tongue and laughed. He went to Rick's side and tore a piece of tape off with his teeth. He began to press it to the gauze, sticking it to Rick's skin. "You're supposed to say the next line. You know? When I point at you?"

"Sorry," Rick said, dropping his hand when it was no longer needed. He looked at his shoulder, at the patching up Negan done. Rick lifted his arm, rolled his shoulder, and winced. Better than nothing. He looked at Negan. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Negan said. He put the remaining gauze back in the medicine cabinet, along with the peroxide and tape. "Now, you're going to be sore in the morning. You can pop a few Tylenol, if you want." Negan reached over and picked up his phone, the song pouring out of the speakers a soft rock one. He turned off the music, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

Rick stood up, reaching for his shirt. He carefully slipped it back on, not wanting to disturb the bandage too much. Rick's fingers traced over the buttons, slow to push them through. "I might take you up on that." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, glancing out into the hall, and then back at Negan. "You were going to tell me something," he said. "You wanted to look at my shoulder first."

Negan opened up the medicine cabinet again, taking out a contact case. "Oh yeah," he said. He unscrewed the lids and leaned forward, hips digging into the sink. Rick watched as Negan took out his contacts, dipping them into the solution after. "Your shoulder." Negan shut his eyes, rubbed, and opened them. He put the caps back on and stuck the contacts in the cabinet. "Well, truth be told, Rick, I really don't want to tell you." Negan turned, standing in front of Rick. He looked down at him. "You gonna button that sucker up?"

"I—"

"—let me get you that Tylenol." Negan turned off the bathroom light and walked out into the hall, leaving Rick to either stay in the dark or follow. He followed. Negan lead Rick into the kitchen, opening up the cabinet near the sink. He took out the Tylenol and shook one out. He handed it over. "Tap water's free."

Rick held the pill in a hand, gave Negan a look, and stuck it into his mouth. Negan reached into another cabinet and got out a glass. He filled it up for Rick and handed that over, too. Rick drank about half of it before setting it down. He swallowed and let out a sigh. "Why bring up something if you don't want to tell me?" Rick asked.

"Because I don't fucking think before I talk. I thought that was pretty damn clear." Negan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He shook his head. "Goddamn, Rick. If you keep looking at me with those baby blues, I might just tell you anything."

"How about you start with what you were going to tell me in there?" Rick said, picking up the glass. He took a drink.

Negan wrinkled his nose. "You said I was a lousy shot, but that's not true. I meant to get your shoulder."

Rick finished the water and set the glass back down. He stared at Negan. "Why the hell would you do that? I was going to kill you. And considering you only had that one bullet." Rick shook his head.

"Were you, Rick? Were you going to kill me?" Negan leaned forward, eyeing him.

"Yes," he said. "I always finish a job." Rick glanced down, watching Negan's tongue dart out to wet his lips. He looked back at him. "There's no more job, so I can't kill you now." Negan took a step back, chin tipped up. He studied Rick for a moment before turning away, heading down the hall again. "Why did you waste that bullet?" Rick called after him.

"I wouldn't call it a waste," Negan said. "I got to roll around on the floor with you. I could feel your cock against my ass when I was sitting on you. Also, I bet you loved being underneath me, legs spread wide open—perfect place for me to nestle down and get cozy."

Rick was rooted to the spot. He flexed his fingers at his sides and cleared his throat. Obviously, in the moment, Rick couldn't afford to think about that type of stuff. It was life and death, as far as Rick was concerned. It was either going to be him or Negan six feet under by the time the night was finished. The farthest thing from his mind was arousal. It wasn't important, and yet, Rick was aware of those sensations. It wasn't life and death now. He was here, being patched and cleaned up before going home. Rick had no contracts, just an order from Maggie to go home and get some sleep.

The floor creaked, and Rick lifted his head, staring at Negan in the doorway. He had his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. "Carl home? That little angel in bed?"

Rick shook his head. "Don't mention my kids."

"They got a babysitter? Someone from the fucking Hilltop watching them?"

"I said," Rick started, walking over to Negan, "don't mention my kids." He stopped in front of Negan, looking up at him. "I know you're in Carl's life, and I know you've… seen me and Judith, but don't mention them. Not right now."

Negan watched Rick, keeping quiet. Even though it was just a few seconds, it meant a lot to Rick. It seemed that Negan seemed to consider what he said, at least. Negan pushed himself off the wall, straightening up as he kept his eyes on Rick. "I'd like to fuck you, Rick, if you're up to it."

Rick paused, just for a moment. He swallowed and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Yeah. Okay."

"Cool." Negan reached out, cupping Rick's face in between his hands, and leaned down, kissing him. Rick set his hands on Negan's arms, fingers curling against his skin as he kissed him back. He parted his lips and opened for Negan, receiving small nips to his lower lip. Rick stepped forward, closer, and moved a hand to slid fingers into Negan's hair. He scratched, ruffled the hair, for a moment, before he held the back of Negan's neck, pulling him closer and tasting tongue and raw desire. Rick pulled back, looking up at Negan, who matched his stare with heavy-lidded eyes. He gave Rick a smile, letting his fingers trace along his cheek. Negan dropped his hand and stepped back. "Not married, huh?"

"Not anymore." Rick followed Negan down the hall, Negan leading him into the bedroom with his backward walk. Out of the corner of his eye, they passed the bathroom, the cracked picture hanging in the hallway. "You're not."

Negan chuckled, a low, short one in his throat. "Such confidence in that voice. You have been snooping."

Rick crowded him against the bed. He slid off his shirt and let it drop on the floor. "It's my job."

"Fucking creepy." Negan lowered his hands and pulled his t-shirt over his head. He tossed it aside and dipped down, pressing his forehead to Rick's. "What else did you find?" he murmured.

Rick lifted an arm, wrapping around Negan's torso. He tipped his head to the side and kissed him, Negan already pliant and receptive against him. Rick raked his fingers down Negan's back, the man arching into his touch. He worked on his jeans, unbuttoning them and dragging the zipper down. Rick pulled back, turning to press kisses along Negan's jawline, the tip of his nose brushing against the rough stubble. "Why do you sleep on the sofa?" Rick asked, moving lower until he was mouthing at Negan's neck.

Negan pressed a hand to Rick's good shoulder, to his chest. He pushed, narrowing his eyes at Rick. "You sure you want to fucking open Pandora's box, Rick? I just want to put my cock in that cute ass of yours. We're not going to talk about our fucking feelings."

He swallowed, hands dropping from their place on Negan's waist. Rick watched Negan and slowly began to nod. "I know," he said, and he felt foolish. This was the man he had been watching, not the school teacher with a gentle gaze and endless patience, but the Savior who was rough around the edges with a silver tongue. "Yeah, I know."

"Good." Negan studied him. "Hop on the bed, Rick. Unless you want to roll around until I pin you again."

Rick, eyes never wavering from Negan's face, kicked off his shoes and undone his jeans. This was the man who, upon finding out he had a toddler, sent him nursey rhymes to scare him. Rick reached behind him and slipped out his gun. He crouched, setting it on the floor. "I think I want you to pin me."

Negan's reaction was immediate. He wrapped his arms around Rick's middle and spun him around, slamming him on to the bed and crawling after him. Negan paused, toeing off his own shoes, before he pressed right up against Rick, hips against hips. He kissed Rick, rough and just a bit desperate. Rick figured he should keep up the spirit, fight back a little, but it was hard to concentrate on anything else when Negan kissed him. His hands traveled down Rick's sides, fingers brushing against his hips until they were tugging down Rick's pants. Rick lifted his hips, helping with the slide and pull, and Negan did the same for Rick, moving side to side to aid with the undressing.

"Ever done this before, Rick?" Negan asked, pulling away from him and crawling to the edge. He dug in the nightstand, leaving Rick to stare at the ceiling and breathe.

"Care to be a bit more specific?" Rick asked, shutting his eyes.

Negan laughed. He went back to Rick, hovering above him. "Assplay."

Rick stared at him. "Yeah."

Negan raised his brows and glanced down, turning the lubricant over in his hands. He opened it, squeezing some onto his fingers. "You're full of surprises," Negan murmured and dipped his hand in between Rick's legs. He pressed his fingers to his hole and slowly pushed in one. Rick closed his eyes again, shifting his hips up and spreading his legs a little wider. Negan leaned in, face to Rick's neck. "Want me to stop? Just say so."

"Don't," Rick absently touched Negan's shoulder, thumb skimming along his collarbone. "Keep going."

"Yes, sir," Negan whispered and kept going.

Rick hadn't done anything like this in a while. To be fair, he hadn't had sex since Lori died, so he was lacking experience in all departments. Rick found people attractive, had thoughts of bedding a couple, but he never managed to take the incentive and engage. In general, Rick wasn't one for casual sex. This was an exception. One that Rick really wouldn't mind doing again.

He let out a groan once Negan's fingers left him, and he reached out, hands grabbing at Negan's waist when he pulled away. Negan swatted them away as he sat back on his heels. "Slow your roll, Rick," he said. "Let me put on this fucking glove." Negan ripped open the package with his teeth and pulled on the condom. He paused a moment more to apply more lubricant before he grabbed Rick's legs, dragging him over. "You always this eager to get laid?"

Rick wet his lips, a small smile forming. "Don't try and say you aren't," he said.

Negan grinned and shook his head. "Gimme that." Negan reached over, fingers wrapping around Rick's ankle, and he bent his leg, hoisting it on his shoulder. He shifted closer, glancing down to line up his cock before pressing in. Rick gasped and arched, Negan leaning in to bury his face in Rick's neck. He laughed, the vibration casting against Rick's skin. "Much better," he said and moved his hips.

Rick hooked his other leg around Negan's hip, his heel digging into his lower back. He slid both arms around his middle, leaning his head against Negan's. "Yeah," Rick breathed out. His shoulder was the last thing in his mind, and the dull ache in his leg didn't faze him. A man in his mid-thirties shouldn't be able to bend the way Rick was, but an ordinary man in his mid-thirties shouldn't be doing a load of stuff Rick was doing. He didn't care, not when Negan was doing such a good job at minimizing those nagging thoughts to a whisper.

They were quiet, and Rick didn't know why. Negan had no one else in the house, but maybe that was why he didn't feel the need to perform. Negan performed in every aspect of his life, it seemed, though not now. It wasn't necessary, Rick reasoned, when Negan was already outshining everyone else who he had slept with in his life.

Negan rocked against Rick, and he gave a little buck after every fourth thrust, which made Rick groan every time. It was systematic and deliberate, and Rick would even call it Negan's own form of torture. Do people get off on torture?

Rick felt the scrape of Negan's teeth along the brim of his ear. He squirmed against him, his leg slipping from Negan's shoulder. Negan touched Rick's knee and held onto his leg, his grip tight as he yanked Rick closer. "You gonna come for me, Rick?" He hummed as he took Rick's cock in hand, squeezing, moving his hand in time with his hips. "I'd like you to."

Rick wished he could do more, but what could he do, instead of moan and shudder and come. Negan laughed, a breathy, exasperated thing, as he leaned over Rick, palm still rubbing at his cock. "There we fucking go," he murmured, his own hips giving a last few thrusts before he was coming, too.

They hung in that tense limbo, too tired and spent to move out of their twisted cocoon. Rick swallowed and sucked in a breath, digging his elbows into the bed covers as he dragged himself away from Negan. At his movement, Negan lifted his head, giving Rick a look as he pulled away, too. "You're a goddamn mess," Negan said, sitting up, hand on the base of his cock so the condom wouldn't slide. "Lucky for you, I am also a fucking mess." Negan stood, taking off the condom and tying it off. He dropped it in the trash and reached over, tossing Rick the box of tissues. Negan glanced at him, licking at a spot on his thumb.

Rick leaned against the headboard, pulling out a few tissues and wiping up the spunk on his stomach. Negan switched on the lamp, making Rick narrow his eyes at the sudden light. He smashed the tissues in his hand and got off the bed, too, throwing them away. Rick set the tissues back where they were.

"So."

He looked over at Negan, eyes focusing on his face for only a moment, before they lowered. In the dark, he couldn't appreciate Negan in all his glory, but with the light on—

"Is that a fucking piercing?" Rick asked, reaching out and running his thumb over Negan's left nipple, the silver bar through it.

Negan wiggled his eyebrows, leaning in and smiling. "Hot, right?"

Rick laughed, and Negan did, too. He leaned in and kissed Rick, a hand poised underneath his chin. This was… different. There was no need, desire, or desperation on Negan's lips this time. It was soft, yearning, and patient, and everything Rick knew about Negan that he erased from his mind while they fucked. This was dangerous, wasn't it? Mere hours ago they fought on the floor, in this very room, for their lives, to be the one that walked out of the house. Even though that was in the past, the very near past, it was worth a moment of consideration. They couldn't kill each other, so they ended up in bed. Simple and not at all toeing the line of danger and pointless risk.

Rick slowly pulled away, keeping his eyes shut for just a moment more. He looked at Negan, pressing his lips together and lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head. "I gotta go."

Negan hung his arms at his sides. He shrugged. "Be my guest. I got what I wanted." He turned away from him, a rotation on his heels, and grabbed his boxers, stepping into them. Negan tipped his head to the side, not quite looking over his shoulder, but the intent was clear. "If you see Rusty out there, tell him to skedaddle."

"Rusty?" Rick repeated, taking a step back. He glanced around the floor and began to gather his clothes, pulling them on as he found them. "Isn't it bad to name strays?" Negan said nothing, only fell back against the bed. He scrubbed his hands over his face, and as Rick stood there, buttoning up his shirt, he stared at the wrinkled covers and wondered if that was the most action, of any kind, Negan's bed had seen in a while. Negan remained quiet as Rick moved through the room, grabbing his shoes and pulling them on, picked his gun from the floor, and went into the bathroom to get his coat. Rick lingered in the hallway as he fixed the sleeves, rolling his shoulders to test the pain he could endure. He felt the end of the tape begin to unstick, and Rick figured it was the sweat that made the adhesive wear away.

"Want me to walk you out? Hold your fucking hand and give your forehead a kiss?"

Rick left. He didn't see Rusty. Driving home, Rick felt like he was in purgatory.

Rick stepped inside and saw Carol at the kitchen table. She was reading a magazine, and Rick shut the door as quietly as he could, as if he was a teenager sneaking back in after leaving the house without permission. Rick walked into the kitchen, curling and uncurling his fingers. He stood by the table. "Hey."

Carol lifted her head, staring at Rick. "Well hi." She flipped a page, smiling. "Everything go okay?"

He set his hands on the back of a chair, leaning on it. "Do you have any tips to get blood out of clothing?" Rick shrugged his shoulder, wincing a tad. "I, uh, well."

She shut the magazine. "Soap and cold water. How long has it been?"

"A few hours."

"Toothpaste works, too. Scrub it in and let it dry, then use soap and water."

Rick scratched his nose. "Thanks, I'll try that."

Carol stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. She walked around the table. "Is that the only snag?"

He laughed. "Quite a few snags, actually. You know the Saviors, right?" At Carol's small nod, Rick continued. "Gregory gave me a shit job, things… happened, and now we're going to be working together. Or try to, at least." Rick patted her arm. "Ask Maggie. She knows what she's doing."

Carol studied him and nodded again. "Right." She pointed at him. "Shit job?"

Rick paused. "Negan."

Carol widened her eyes.

Rick nodded, head tipping side to side. "Yeah, I know. Look, thanks for watching Carl and Judith. I appreciate it." He set a hand on her back, leading her to the door. "I'll try the toothpaste."

"Did you kill him?"

"No."

"Gregory just told you to kill him?" Carol shook her head. "Asshole."

"Talk to Maggie, like I said." Rick opened up the door and gave Carol a smile. "Everything's fine."

The look Carol gave told him that she didn't agree with him in the slightest. "Goodnight, Rick."

"Goodnight." He shut the door and leaned his head against it, closing his eyes. Better men than Rick might not have lasted as long as he had. Getting shot and then fucked? He deserved a nice long nap.

How long has it been since you had a good night's sleep?

Rick heard Negan's voice in his ear, and that slight purr dragged him down the hall, let him check on his children, before coaxing him into bed. He didn't even bother undressing, just buried his face into the pillow and tried his best not to bare down too hard on his shoulder.

In the morning, Rick didn't know how he got out of bed. He heard Carl rummage in the kitchen, so he slid out of bed and promptly fell in the floor. Rick felt heavy, and he rolled on the floor, taking off his coat and kicking off his shoes. He lifted his arms above his head and stretched, stretched despite the numbing pain in his shoulder. It was manageable. He'd live.

Rick stashed his gun in a drawer and changed into another set of clothes, something that didn't have bullet holes and reminded him of a scruffy man in a red scarf. He went into the kitchen and smiled at Carl as he ate cereal at the table. Rick walked past him and squeezed his shoulder. "Sorry, I didn't get in until late." He started the coffee. "Was Carol okay?"

Carl stuffed his face with Cheerios. "Yeah, she was fine." Rick could feel Carl's eyes burning a hole in his back. "You must really like her."

Rick blinked. He looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"The rose girl."

He took a mug out of the cabinet. "You haven't read the messages, have you?"

"Ew, gross, no."

Rick smiled and set the cup down. He was lucky any thought of him dating grossed Carl out, and didn't create any hostility. But he wasn't dating. Negan had said he got what he wanted. Rick looked over at Carl, watching as he dropped a Cheerio, stared at it on the floor, and continued eating like nothing happened. Rick leaned against the counter. "Carl, what if the rose girl was… a rose… man?" Pointedly not a rose boy because Negan was definitely not a boy.

Carl looked at Rick, hand stuffed in the bowl of dry cereal. His expression showed no disgust, no shock, no repulsion. It was just Carl. "Then it's a rose man?" He furrowed his brow. "It's cool, Dad. Some of my friends are… you know."

"Thanks, Carl."

"No problem."

Rick pushed off from the counter and went to wake up Judith.

After their morning routine, Rick drove Carl to school. When he got back home, he sat Judith down in front of the television while he showered. Rick was hesitant to undress the injury, but he knew it would be best if it got a bit of air. Or whatever. He avoided getting water directly in it, which was pretty damn hard when it was on his shoulder.

Rick spent the day lounging in the living room with Judith. He deserved to rest, and Judith didn't seem to mind when he dozed off and took a couple naps. Small victories.

As it neared three, Rick gathered Judith and went to pick up Carl. He opened the front door, Judith to his chest, and looked down. On the welcome mat, there was another rose with a small black box next to it. Rick stared at it, absently patting Judith's back. He thought this would be over. Negan's parting words gave off that feeling. Rick shifted Judith and managed to hold her with one arm, as he crouched to pick up the rose and the box. He shut the door with his foot and set Judith on the couch, sitting next to her. "What do you think this is?" he asked Judith. She clapped. Rick furrowed his brow. "Yeah, I think so, too."

The rose didn't have a card, like the previous ones. The small velvet box, however, was a different story. Rick rubbed his thumb against the side of the box, anticipation eating at him. He held the box in his palm and carefully opened it. On the inside lid was a note. You left this behind, killer.

In the center of the box was a bullet. It was clean and shiny, and Rick imagined Negan getting on his hands and knees, searching his bedroom for the bullet that pierced Rick's skin.

What sort of fucked up symbolism was that?

Rick snapped the box shut and looked down at Judith. "What do you think it means?" he said. Judith scrunched up her face and shook her head. Rick stroked her hair, leaving her on the couch to put the rose with his growing and dying collection and the bullet in his nightstand.

As if nothing had stopped him, Rick drove to pick up Carl, now aware that he had received a dozen roses from Negan. And they say romance is dead.

Rick hadn't been to work in a week. He was busy with being… not very busy that he forgot to check in with the Hilltop. With the silence, Rick figured Maggie was handling everything well. No news was good news. All was quiet on the Negan front, too, not that Rick was expecting something to happen. It was in the past now, a notch in Rick's belt and a scar on his shoulder.

Despite reminding himself this, Rick couldn't help his mind retreating to dark and dangerous places when he laid awake at night. The scrape of teeth, the laughter, those hips against his. Completely rational and normal thoughts to have.

His phone rang from the other end of the couch. Rick glanced at the phone, balanced on the edge, and narrowed his eyes. He pushed himself up and snatched it as it rang a fourth time. Maggie's name was at the top of the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rick. I thought I'd call to check on you."

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Resting, like you said."

"It's just that… you haven't stopped by in a few days, and I was getting worried."

"No, everything's fine. I'm doing well. Thank you for calling."

"Good." A pause. Maggie laughed. "This isn't the only reason I called."

Rick frowned. "What's going on? Is it the Saviors? Did something happen?"

"No, no, nothing like that. They've been doing fine, actually. Surprised me. It's just, well, today we're short on Hilltop members, and there's a Savior here that needs a partner."

"Do you need me to come in?"

"Would you do that, Rick? I'd appreciate it. I don't know if you need any more time off—"

"—I can come in, don't worry." Rick rubbed his face and glanced at the clock on the wall. "I don't have anyone to watch Judith, though, and Carl's in school."

"You can bring her with you. I can watch her. Or Glenn can. He's not doing anything." On the other end, Rick heard a cry of protest, but he couldn't pick out the specifics. Maggie shushed. "Yeah, just bring Judith with you. Glenn said he didn't care." More background yelling started, and Maggie talked a bit louder. "I'll see you in a bit!"

Rick tossed his phone aside and stretched out his legs. It seemed like he was going to get back to work. He had a well-deserved break. It was worth it. Rick stood up and walked down the hall, peeking on Judith who was playing with a stuffed elephant. He went around her room, collecting the necessities and putting them in her bag. Judith wouldn't be around any of the actual work, and she wasn't old enough to understand what they were talking about yet. She should be safe with Glenn and Maggie once there.

He didn't have any experience in working with someone else on this job. Being an officer, it was a given that work would be done with a partner, but killing people? He was apprehensive, but this was part of their deal. A pair could watch each other's backs. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Glenn could try to appear disinterested and appalled at the idea of watching Judith as much as he wanted, but Rick saw that look in his eyes when Judith tried to say his name. He left him with Judith's bag and went to find Maggie. She was in Gregory's office, sitting behind the desk like she belonged there. Rick walked in, laughing. "Management suits you," he said.

Maggie gave him a look, fighting back the urge to smile. "Gregory's still the leader. He's just… pouting in his bedroom, like the coward and child he is." She grinned. "How's Judith, or should I ask how Glenn is?"

"She's fine. They're both fine." Rick laughed again. "Might want to give him a kid soon. Should have seen his face."

Maggie shook her head. "Lord, no. Give me a few years." She stood from the chair and crossed her arms. "Rick," she said, voice lower. "I feel I should warn you. The person you're paired with. I tried to get you out of it, but they were dead set on you being with them."

Rick set his hands on his hips, knitting his brows. "Why do I get the feeling I know who you're talking about?"

She gave a weak smile. "Irony?"

The office door opened, and Negan walked in, face instantly lighting up once he saw Rick. "Lookie here! You managed to get him." Negan moved over to them, standing next to Rick and grinning at Maggie. "I owe you one."

"That's not necessary."

Rick breathed in, smelling cologne and hearing Negan laugh. He looked at him. "Shouldn't you be at work? School's still in."

Negan quirked a brow and tipped his head to the side. "I called in sick. And I was sick. You should have heard me this morning. Couldn't talk worth a damn." He winked at Rick, like he was in on a joke. "Besides, I should really get back to the swing of things, and since we have a fucking buddy system, I knew I wanted to partner with Rickroll here." Negan pressed a hand to Rick's back, giving him a pat. His touch lingered, a soft rub to the curve of his back, and then it was gone.

"I suppose I'm flattered."

"Oh, you fucking better be."

Maggie cleared her throat and looked down, digging out the same ratty notebook. "The man's name is Gareth. Gregory said he's evaded police for months and needs to be brought to justice." Maggie showed the notebook to Negan and Rick. "I don't know if you've kept up with the news, but a couple people have disappeared. No trace of them. Gregory had people out, and they all turned out with the same result. Gareth kidnapped them, and… well, they can't find the bodies."

Negan let out a laugh, a single huff. "What'd he do? Eat them?"

Maggie shut the notebook. "That's what we're thinking."

Negan lost his smile, shoulders dropping. "Well, shit."

"I don't know how long this is going to take you guys, but be careful. It's been a while since the last disappearance."

Rick frowned. "He might strike again. Soon."

Maggie nodded. "That's what we're afraid of. The police aren't doing anything. They don't know, but we do." She studied both of them, eyes narrowing. "Is this arrangement going to work?"

"Yes."

"Hell yeah."

Maggie didn't look convinced. "If something goes wrong, call me. Call someone here. You can get help. Is that clear? No running off into the sunset if you screw up. If you screw up, own it, and get help. Understand?"

Rick nodded. Beside him, Negan whistled. "Damn, Gregory won't like that."

Maggie shot him a look. "Gregory isn't going to find out. I trust you guys, well, I trust that you know how to do your job." She pressed her lips together. "Now go. Get that asshole before he does anything else."

Again, Rick nodded and walked out of the office. Gareth, Gareth, Gareth. Fucking guy was a cannibal? Negan walked beside him, shoulder bumping into his. "This should be good, huh? What do you say, Rick? Looking forward to wasting this fucked up motherfucker?"

Rick held open the door for Negan, standing up straight as he waited. Negan passed him, eyes meeting his, a smile on his lips. "For once, I think I am."

"For once, Ricky boy? Are you telling me you weren't looking forward to killing me?" Negan tutted. "Just showed your hand, Rick. It's dangerous to reveal too much."

"And sending me that bullet wasn't too much?" Rick followed Negan, hearing the door shut behind him.

Negan shrugged, lifting his hands. "I told you. You left it behind. I was just being a good citizen and returning it." He clapped, hands rubbing together. "Let's take my car."

Rick hated finding out the police were doing an awful job. When he was on the force, he tried to do the right things, bring attention to neglected issues, and overall, not contribute to the bad reputation cops had. He knew some of the criticisms were necessary—hell, he agreed with some of it—but it still made his skin crawl finding out that the police could have done something, and they didn't.

Like Gareth. Rick couldn't help but wonder, if he still had his job, would those missing persons reports come across his desk, and would he have done all he could to find justice? Rick hoped he would have. He was in a different universe now, one where Gareth was going to get what he deserved.

"I usually take a couple days to research the contract, but what Maggie told us was enough," Rick said, shifting, wrapping his fingers around the seatbelt. "Let's kill this guy. Hell, the Hilltop knows where he is, the police doesn't, so we should get him before he runs or grabs another person."

In the driver's seat, Negan laughed. "He speaks." He glanced at Rick, one hand on the steering wheel, the other propping up his head. "For a moment, I thought you fell asleep with your eyes open." Negan rubbed his fingers against his chin, his lips. "You didn't spend just a couple days researching me. Should I be flattered?"

Rick pursed his lips and looked out of the window. "That's in the past."

Negan snorted. "Oh, okay." He dropped his hand, sitting up straighter. "You were a cop, right?"

He paused, frowning. Rick turned back to Negan. "How did you know that?"

"I did some research of my own," Negan said with a smirk. He waved a hand, pointing a finger. "There's a story to be told, one that I keep putting off."

Rick looked down at the floor, stretching out his legs. Negan's car was clean and taken care of. It wasn't neglected, like his house and bedroom appeared to be. "Is it the same story you were going to tell me before?"

"What."

"You told me you shot what you wanted to shoot. Like it was on purpose." Rick looked at him from the corner of his eye, but Negan wasn't giving anything away. "I don't think you're telling me the whole story."

Negan narrowed his eyes for a split second and scooted to the edge of his seat, driving with both hands on the wheel. "Fucker isn't home. We gonna wait in his house?"

Rick was about to ask what could he possibly be doing, but he remembered it was a weekday afternoon. The guy could be working or doing errands. Anything in the world. Rick stared at the house, hoping that the no car out front actually meant he wasn't home. He'd been fooled once. Rick nodded, looking over at Negan. "Yeah, sounds good." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Find some place to park. Somewhere inconspicuous."

"This ain't my first rodeo, Rick. I know what to do." Negan parked in front of a nearby grocery store, and they both gathered their things before sliding out of the car. The shop was a twenty-four hour one, so the lot was always occupied by something. Rick didn't think they'd be in the house for that long, but he didn't know where Gareth was or when he'd be back.

They walked down the street, heading to Gareth's house. Rick had his gun pressed to his back, tucked safely in the waistband of his pants. Negan had his leather jacket zipped up, and even though Rick saw him tuck his own gun behind him, he couldn't tell it was there. That was the point, though. They were quiet as they walked, Rick with his hands in his coat pockets and Negan moving as if he had no posture at all. He hoped they didn't look suspicious.

"Carl ask about that?" Negan asked. Rick turned his head, catching Negan's eye, and then looking down at his shoulder. Rick had managed to get the blood out of the material, but there wasn't much he could do about the hole. Rick was never good at sewing or patching clothes. He shook his head. Negan smiled. "Good. Probably didn't notice it, then."

"Yeah. Good." Rick went to the front door, Negan hovering behind him. The man was almost like his own shield as he picked the lock.

"What does he think you do all day?" Negan said, leaning down enough for his lips to touch Rick's ear.

The pick jammed in the lock. Rick frowned and cleared his throat, glancing at Negan. "Watch Judith. I'm a single dad, as far as he's concerned." Rick took a breath and started over. "That's all he'll know."

"I don't blame you," Negan continued, voice still low and close to him. Rick could feel his breath on his neck, could still smell the damn cologne. "Fucked up, isn't it? Finding out Daddy's a hitman." Negan slipped an arm around Rick, his hand pressing to his stomach.

When the lock gave that click, Rick sighed. He looked over his shoulder, finding out just how close Negan was. Rick stared at him, swallowing. "Listen here. We're working. No… funny business." Rick frowned as Negan smiled. "I don't even know why you're doing this." He pushed at Negan and opened the front door. Rick stepped inside, pick going back in his pocket before he took out his gun.

"Doing what, Rick?" Negan shut the door. "Care to elaborate?"

Gareth's house was neat and orderly. There was no blanket strewn on his couch. Rick held his gun steady as he moved through the halls, peeking in each room.

"The teasing. We've fucked. You got what you wanted, you said." Rick glanced behind him, seeing Negan in the kitchen. He had one hand on his gun, the other on the refrigerator handle. Negan stood there, staring into the fridge. "What?" Rick lowered his gun. "Something in there?"

Negan crouched, sticking his head in. "Meat. Don't know what kind." Negan shook his head. "Could be a fucking human. How the hell should I know?" Negan shut the door and turned away. He went down the hall, toward Rick. "It wasn't in those fucking packages you get at the deli."

"Might be leftovers from…"

"From the fucking people he ate? Yeah, fucking might be." Negan stopped next to him. He sighed. "I know I couldn't eat an entire person by myself." Negan furrowed his brow. "Think he has some fucking cannibal friends? Like, do you think he knows goddamn Hannibal Lecter?"

Rick narrowed his eyes and walked away.

"I'm being fucking serious. I just wanna ask him a few questions."

Rick stepped into the bedroom, doing a quick look through. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was messy, the bed unmade, clothes on the floor. Rick stood by the window, peering through the cracked blinds. "Could be a while," Rick murmured.

Negan opened up the closet door. He looked in, nodding. "This guy has shitty taste. Looks like he could work at a fucking Whole Foods."

Rick crouched, getting himself comfortable as he leaned against the wall. He glanced Negan's way as he dug his phone out of his pocket. Just to be sure, Rick did a quick Google search on Gareth. Like Maggie said, he had been in the news, been brought in for questioning about the missing people. The police had to let him go when there was nothing substantial keeping him there. The Hilltop found the link, and Rick knew it wasn't through legal means. Did it matter, though, when an asshole was going to get what was due?

He stuck his phone back in his pocket, looking at Negan, who was still standing in awe of the closet. "I'm going to be straight up with you," Rick said.

"No, Rick, don't be straight with me." Negan shut the door and spun around.

"I found you on Facebook. You hadn't been on it for years, but you had an Instagram account linked to it. So, when you posted a new picture, it'd pop up on your feed." Rick scratched the back of his neck. "I sort of… regularly checked your page."

Negan leaned against the wall, arms over his chest. He grinned. "Shit, Rick. That is creepy as hell."

"Shut up."

"Man, you really got it bad for me, huh?"

Rick rubbed his face, shaking his head. He dropped his hands, looking across the room at Negan. "What's your excuse? Wanting to jump into bed with me as soon as we didn't have guns to each other's heads? You followed me around, too. You sent me those roses. Those fucking notes. Sounds like you got it bad for me."

"Can it be both?" Negan raised a brow. "Look, Rick, I like you. You're fucking cute from far away."

"And you got all that from following me? You felt all that, and you were still going to kill me?"

Negan was quiet for a moment. "You pulled your gun on me first."

"I didn't shoot first. I hesitated when I saw your gun." Rick wet his lips. "That's it, then, isn't it? You really did miss on purpose."

More silence. Rick watched Negan as he bowed his head, hands and gun to his face. Negan dropped his hands and crouched, too, sliding down the wall. "You're really gonna make me fucking do this."

"Do what?"

"Fucking talk while we wait for this asshole."

Rick shrugged.

Negan groaned. "Fine, shit." He rolled his shoulders, grimacing. "I didn't… miss on purpose. I fucking missed. I had been watching you but I never got a clear view of your fucking face. I was sending you all that shit because I wanted to get under your skin. I was pissed at Gregory. That dick was sending someone to kill me, but I wasn't going to sit fucking idle. So, I wanted to torment you. I thought I'd scare you off, and Gregory would confront me and give me a better fucking deal. I had no idea you were going to show up in my fucking house and still try to kill me.

"And then I saw your face, and I knew you." Negan shut his eyes and shook his head. "I knew you, Rick, and I got scared and fucking missed the shot."

Rick studied Negan, taking in the slouch of his shoulders, the loose grip on the gun, the lines around his mouth, and knew Negan was being truthful. He pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow. Rick gave his head the smallest of shakes. "How?" he asked quietly. "How did you know me? I didn't know you at all."

At that, Negan laughed, a weak sound that didn't suit him at all. "I'd be surprised if you did. You were too doped up when we met." Negan turned his head, then, looking at Rick. He pointed. "It was about five years ago. You were in the fucking hospital. I was there, too."

Had it really been five years? So much in his life had changed. Rick nodded. "Yeah, I was in a coma. I got shot when I was working."

"You weren't in a coma when I fucking walked in. Like I said, though, you were pretty doped up. Damn lousy at holding a conversation."

Rick smiled softly. "Why were you there?"

"I told you, or I was starting to. Don't you remember?"

The whole hospital experience was a blur to him. Even if he hadn't been in a coma and hooked up to pain medication, it was five years ago. Rick shook his head. "I don't."

"My wife. Lucille. The woman in that fucking picture." Negan gestured to the hallway, as if forgetting they weren't in his house and instead in a stranger's. "She was dying of fucking cancer. I stepped out for a bit to get some air, as you do, and I saw you. You were in a fucking dark room, looking pitiful as all hell. I don't know. I was in that hospital for weeks, and I kept hearing the fucking nurses and doctors talk about you. I guess I was curious."

"I was a sideshow attraction. I get it."

"Fuck you, Rick. That's not what I was getting at." Negan tipped his head back. "I sat there with you, in the dark room, and talked. Like I said, you were shit at holding a conversation." He looked over. "It wasn't a long conversation. You, well, you fucking. Shit. I thought you fucking died. Your heart stopped." Negan frowned. "I got the nurses and fucking stayed in the back of the room, and fucking… watched as they shocked you again and again, and I couldn't… I didn't know you, but no one was fucking pushing me out, so, I." Negan lifted a hand, covering his face. He stopped talking, and Rick kept quiet, watching Negan from his spot. In the pause, in the silence of the room, Rick listened to Negan as he cried.

It was strange hearing Negan tell him about something he had no memory of. He didn't know his heart stopped even after he woke from the coma and was teetering on consciousness. But then again, Rick didn't expect Lori to tell him that either.

Rick stood up, walking across the room, around the bed. "Negan."

Negan waved him away, but that didn't stop him. Rick knelt in front of Negan and grabbed his hand. Negan cleared his throat and looked at Rick, dead on, tears down his face. "I left before I knew what happened to you. A part of me didn't want to know. I was already in a shitty place." Negan squeezed Rick's hand. "Two days later, Lucille died." He closed his eyes. "I didn't know what to fucking do. She was my whole world. I was a fucking awful husband, sure, but I loved her."

Rick leaned over, wiping at Negan's face. "My wife, Lori, died a year or so after I woke from my coma. Car accident."

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it? Being a widower?"

He pulled back, setting his hands on Negan's knees. Rick squeezed. "Yeah."

Negan dropped a hand, grabbing one of Rick's. "Ever tried to kill yourself?"

"I couldn't do that to Carl and Judith."

"I was fucking alone. No one needed me." Negan stared at Rick. "I tried once. I didn't try very hard. Fucking freaked out and realized what I done when I was bleeding all over the place." He gave a small smile. "Left some bitching scars, though."

Rick hummed. "Small things."

"Damn right."

They fell into a shared silence, holding hands and pointedly not looking at each other. This was a different side to the Negan he saw a week ago, but it seemed to fit nicely with what he had come to know. Negan squeezed Rick's fingers, and Rick looked at him. "I thought you were dead. That night, when I finally got a good look at your face, I thought I was staring at a fucking ghost."

Rick shook his head. "I'm not."

"No shit."

"When I saw you, that… first time I saw you. You were on your porch, playing with that cat. I had a feeling, I, I thought you seemed familiar, but that would have been ridiculous."

Negan stared at him, no more tears in his eyes. He nodded, a hint of a smile forming. "That is ridiculous. I don't fucking play with that cat." Rick looked at him, narrowing his eyes. "That cat comes over and plays with me." Rick smacked Negan's arm, pulling back and standing up. "And his name is Rusty, thank you very much."

Rick took a step back, hand to his mouth. "You're not supposed to name strays."

"Fuck you, Rick. You look at a fucking orange cat and not name it Rusty."

The front door opened. They froze, turning their heads to the doorway.

Slowly, Negan stood up, getting next to Rick. "I'll get behind the door," he whispered. He slipped out his gun and took a step back, giving Rick one last lingering look before ducking behind the door. Rick walked backward until he hit the dresser. He held up his gun, eyes narrowed as he waited.

Rick listened as the front door was closed, keys were set down, and footsteps went through the house. As they got closer, Rick adjusted his position, shoulders back.

A man walked in, mid-twenties, it looked like, and with all the air of arrogance around him. The clothes he wore matched the ones Negan made fun of in the closet. He didn't look like he had the appetite for human flesh, but looks could be deceiving.

Negan kicked the door, making it swing on its hinges until it slammed shut. Gareth jumped, looking Negan's way. He held up his hands at the sight of the gun. "Whoa, man. What's going on?"

Rick stepped forward. "Turn around." Gareth didn't hesitate, spinning on his heel and giving Rick his attention. He gestured with his gun. "On your knees." Gareth narrowed his eyes and carefully crouched, hands still up. Rick glanced at Negan, then back down. "You Gareth?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Rick threw his arm out, striking him across the face with his gun. Gareth fell on his side, hands cradling his cheek. "What the fuck?!"

"Nice fucking hit," Negan said.

"Pull him back up."

Negan reached down with his free hand and yanked on Gareth's hair, dragging him back on his knees. He went around him, moving next to Rick. "We heard you got a weird-ass fucking appetite, Gareth."

Gareth paled, eyes widening. He dropped his hands, resting them on his knees. "I don't know what you're talking about. Are you with the cops?"

"Put your fucking hands up. We didn't tell you to fucking lower them." Negan brandished the gun, Gareth immediately lifting his hands. Negan grinned, let out a little laugh, and looked over at Rick.

Rick tried to ignore him. He tightened his grip on the gun. "It doesn't matter who we're with. What matters is that you kidnapped people, killed them, and then fucking ate them." He wrinkled his nose. "That's vile."

"You don't even need to fucking eat people. You have good food in that fridge, like? Why do you have to fucking gnaw on some poor bastard's leg?" Negan waved his gun as he talked.

Gareth hesitated, fingers twitching. He tipped his head to the side. "A man's gotta eat."

"Hoo, buddy!" Negan laughed.

Rick nudged him. He looked back at Gareth. "No, you didn't have to eat them. Don't you feel any remorse for your actions? The slightest bit disgusted?"

There was no hesitation in Gareth's actions. "Not at all. In fact, I'd do it—"

Two bullets shot through Gareth, one in his forehead, the other in his throat. Gareth immediately flew back, collapsing on the floor with a sickening thud.

Rick lowered his gun, brow furrowed. He looked over at Negan, who gracelessly dropped his arm. Negan leaned back, staring at Rick with a smile. He wet his lips. "Fuck, Rick. My dick is so fucking hard right now."

"Why did you fucking do that?" Rick pointed at Gareth.

Negan set his hands on his hips, giving Rick an incredulous look. "I should be asking you the same question, Rick! That was extremely rude. Shooting him while he was in the middle of a sentence." Negan shook his head, tutting.

"You did the same thing!"

"I didn't know we had a fucking killing strategy! I just pop these fuckers wherever'll kill them faster." Negan stuffed his gun behind him. "Besides, he was pissing me off. I didn't want to fucking hear his punk-ass voice any longer than I fucking had to."

"He was pissing me off, too," Rick said quietly, slipping his gun behind him, too. "I usually… do the execution thing. Right in the forehead. So, when the body's found, people know that they were in deep shit." Rick rubbed his face, scratching his neck. He looked over at Negan. "What's that look for?"

Negan grinned at Rick, teeth showing. He bent his knees, giving a little hip thrust. "Execution style. That is some messed up shit, Rick. Holy hell." He wet his lips, turning toward Rick. "Have I mentioned how fucking turned on I am?"

Rick studied Negan, finding himself scanning him from his head to his toes and lingering somewhere in the middle. He looked back at him, smiling. "I don't remember, maybe." Rick shrugged. "Sounds familiar."

"We make a good fucking team, Rick."

"Only one of us was supposed to kill Gareth."

"Who the hell said that? He's fucking dead. Who cares how that happened?" Negan stepped forward, standing in front of Rick. He looked down at him, still smiling. "How about we get the fuck outta here?" he asked, voice lowering.

Rick felt his heart race, just at the mere implication, and he roughly swallowed. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, even though he knew damn well what Negan had in mind.

Negan chuckled, a low, rugged thing. "A little freaky deaky," he said, eyebrows raising as he shimmied his shoulders.

He wanted to roll his eyes, God did he want to, and Rick's first instincts were usually good, so he did. Negan laughed again, and Rick smiled. "Freaky deaky? When I was growing up, we called it hanky panky."

"That is so fucking stupid, Rick," Negan said, though he didn't look annoyed in the slightest. He had that gleam in his eye, as if Rick gave him some fodder his intrusive thoughts hadn't. "Your place."

"No, Carl might come back. You're supposed to be sick."

"Fair enough. My place."

"Your place," Rick agreed. He took a step back, fingers flexing. "Why do you sleep on the sofa?"

Negan stared at Rick, head cocked and eyes narrowed. "Pandora's box, Rick."

"I want to open it."

At that, Negan grimaced but nodded. "I haven't been able to get a good night's sleep in my bed for years, ever since. Well, fuck, you know."

"I know." Rick nodded, too. "I haven't either since."

Negan moved toward him. "I know." He rolled his shoulders, hands on his hips. "All this death and fucking despair is making me hot and bothered. Kiss me, Rick."

"Yeah, okay," Rick said and reached up, grabbing the back of Negan's neck. He pulled him in, their mouths mashing together in the least romantic way, but it was rough and needy, and that was enough. His other hand touched Negan's waist, fingers digging into the leather material of his jacket. Negan stood there, managing to maintain his posture for a few seconds, until he buckled under the pressure. His fingers ran through Rick's hair, tangling in the loose waves. Negan tugged until Rick gasped, and he responded with a gasp of his own, an even needier thing that made Rick's knees weak.

Rick pulled away from Negan, hand to his chest, and cleared his throat. "We should go. Gareth might have friends or something." He lowered his hand, Negan stepped forward, and Rick put his hand up again. "Also, we should tell Maggie the job's done."

Negan started to nod, glancing around Rick and staring at Gareth, still in a crumpled heap on the floor. He ran his hands down the front of his pants. "I'll call the head honcho."

"Gregory's the head honcho."

Negan shot Rick a look and walked around him, heading out of the room and into the hall. Rick gave Gareth one last look, wrinkled his nose, and followed Negan out of the house. Rick made sure the door was locked behind them.

"Howdy there, darling." Negan paused, frowning. "I apologize." Rick smiled as he walked ahead of Negan, down the sidewalk. "The meat's fucking cooked. Rick and I are exce-fucking-llent chefs."

Rick pushed Negan toward the bed, and Negan's legs hit the frame, and he promptly fell back. Negan bounced and looked at Rick, smile never leaving his face. "I'm so fucking glad to see your shoulder's all better." Rick climbed onto the bed, on Negan's hips, and perched. He looked down at him.

"Yeah?" Rick dipped down, kissing Negan, rough, quick, wet. He pulled back. "I guess being a ghost pays off."

Negan kneed Rick in the side, tossing him off. He rolled, pinning Rick beneath him. "Shut that fucking mouth." Negan pressed close, one of Rick's legs bending at an awkward angle.

Rick reached up, arms wrapping around Negan's neck. He pulled him down, kissing him. Rick managed to move, legs spreading and allowing Negan to settle in the provided space. He hooked his legs over Negan's hips, squeezing him with all his strength. Negan groaned against his tongue, and Rick slid his hands down his sides. He pulled back, just a breath away, and smiled. "Take off that damn jacket."

"Take off your jacket," Negan retorted, pulling back and standing next to the bed. He kept his eyes on Rick as he slid off his jacket, letting it drop on the floor. Rick sat up and stayed on the edge of the bed, shrugging out of his own coat and tossing it aside. Their shirts joined them on the floor, and Rick kicked off his shoes, Negan hopping leg to leg as he pulled off his boots.

Rick unbuttoned Negan's pants, dragging the zipper down. He stood for a moment, enough to give Negan a quick kiss, before leaning in, lips to his chest, his sternum. Rick licked at one of Negan's nipples before focusing his attention on the other, the one with the ring. It was cold against Rick's tongue, but he kept on, gently tugging at it with his teeth.

"Fuck. That's fucking hot, Rick."

He pulled back, grinning up at Negan. "Good." Rick wrapped his arms around his middle, took a deep breath, and whipped him around. Negan fell against the bed, bounced once, and Rick turned, flipping Negan on his stomach. Rick grabbed one of Negan's arms, fingers digging into his skin, as he pinned Negan in place. He shifted closer, hips pressing to Negan's backside. Rick leaned in, face to his neck. "Gotcha."

Negan buried his face in the bed covers and wiggled his hips, pushing back into Rick's hold. He turned his head, cheek to the bed. "Fuck yeah, you did." Negan laughed, breathless. "Goddamn, Rick. Fuck me. Like this. Fuck me like this. Daddy fucking wants it like this."

Rick loosened his grip on Negan's arm. "Daddy?"

"I'm Daddy," Negan murmured.

"Okay."

"Just to be clear."

Rick raked his nails down Negan's back as he pulled away. "You didn't have to clear up anything." He yanked on Negan's pants, tugging them down.

Negan was loud. He was loud as Rick kissed him, as Rick ate him out, as Rick fingered him, and as Rick pressed his face into the pillows as he fucked him. But this was good, God help him it was good. He kept his hands on Negan's waist as he thrust against him, the headboard smacking against the wall with each rock.

"Don't stop. Don't you fucking stop, Rick." Negan reached behind him, grabbing one of Rick's wrists. He squeezed, then dragged his fingers down, sliding them in the spaces in between Rick's. Negan hung his head, grinding against him. "Make me fucking come, Rick."

They laid next to each other, side by side, after the fact. Negan lit a cigarette, and Rick watched as smoke circled up to the ceiling. Negan passed it over, their knuckles brushing. Rick held the cigarette between his lips. "You like to hold hands, Negan?" Rick asked.

"Give me that fucking cigarette," Negan said, taking it from Rick. He glared at the ceiling.

Rick smiled, shaking his head. "Don't be like that," he said softly. Rick reached over, pressing his palm against Negan's, fingers sliding in between. He looked at Negan as he squeezed his hand. Negan stared back at him, his expression unreadable, eyes shiny.

Negan cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling again. "You're something else, Rick Grimes."

Maggie smiled at Rick, Judith in her arms and bag over her shoulder. "She was an angel." Rick took the bag first and then held Judith close. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Where's Glenn?"

"Napping." Maggie gave a playful roll of her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Negan called. He said everything went okay. Is that true?"

Rick rubbed Judith's back. He nodded. "It is. He wasn't lying." Rick shrugged. "We… really do work well together."

Maggie raised a brow. "Care to share anything?" she asked.

Sometimes, Rick didn't like how Maggie could look right through him. Still, he smiled and shook his head. "No, not right now. Maybe later." Rick turned away, heading toward the door.

"I'm holding you to that!" Maggie called after him.

Negan stood in front of Rick's dresser. He stretched out a hand, scooping up the rose petals and crushing them in his palm. "You haven't thrown them away."

"For some reason, I couldn't." Rick sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have… well." He kicked the nightstand.

The rose petals fell back on the dresser, and Negan crouched, opening up the drawer of the nightstand and digging through it. He picked up the notes, flipping through each of them. Negan glanced at the box in the corner. "You have everything."

"Yeah."

Negan dropped them back in the drawer. He shut it and stood up. "I gotta fuck you."

Rick laid back against the covers. "Say please."

"Please, I gotta fuck you," Negan said, crawling onto the bed and kissing Rick, fingers already twisting and curling to unbutton his shirt.

Carl came home from school, hitching a ride with one of his friends, and walked into the living room. He stood in front of Rick, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. "Why didn't you tell me Negan was the rose man?"

Rick, arm behind his head, remote in his hand, stared at Carl. He squinted. "I… didn't know how serious it was."

"I remember all the roses, Dad. It seemed pretty serious."

"How did you—"

"Negan told me. He tutors me during lunch, remember?" Carl sat down in the recliner, backpack dropping on the floor. "He was asking about you and Judith like he, like he cared."

Rick sat up, leaning forward as he watched Carl. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he said. He rubbed his hands together, the knuckles. "Is this going to be a problem?"

Carl looked ahead, eyes focused on something Rick couldn't see. "I mean, Negan's a jerk, but he's cool. I guess."

"That means a lot, Carl, thanks."

A month passed without incident. The Hilltop and the Saviors became equal partners, merged successfully like the Kingdom had. Unfortunately, Gregory regained most of the control, and Maggie was shoved down to grunt work, like the rest of them.

"Damn tragedy," Negan said, standing in Rick's kitchen, stirring a pot of spaghetti. "I really liked her."

"Did something happen to Maggie?" Carl asked, sliding next to Negan. He eyed the tray of garlic bread.

Rick looked at the two of them from his seat at the table, helping Judith in her chair. "Maggie's fine. Negan just likes being dramatic."

"I already knew that."

Negan narrowed his eyes at Carl and looked over his shoulder at Rick. "Do you all want fucking dinner or not?" He turned back to Carl. "And I see you fucking eyeing that garlic bread. Stand down." He shook his head. "Fucking vultures."

Negan was quiet for a moment, stirring. Carl gave Rick a look before sitting down at the table. Negan looked back at Rick, eyes still narrowed and lips pressed together. "Rick! You haven't kissed the cook yet." He grinned, tongue in between his teeth.

Rick heard Carl's groan as he walked over and kissed Negan.

That night, coming down from a post-orgasm high, Negan mouthed against Rick's stomach. "I like it here."

He cradled Negan's head, scratching behind his ears. "Then stay."

"I don't know about this. Are you sure he'll be okay?" Rick looked over, watching Negan, Rusty in his arms. "Me and him have fucking been through a lot. He's fucking seen me cry."

"I've seen you cry." Rick knocked on the door. "Beth's nice. She cares. Rusty will like her."

Negan frowned and looked at Rusty. He leaned in, lips to the side of his face. "She know what her big sis does?"

"Uh, no."

The door opened, and Beth poked her head out. She glanced between Rick and Negan. "Hey, Rick." Beth let go of the doorknob. "Um…"

Negan nodded his head back. "Negan."

Beth smiled. "Negan." She studied him and then looked over, widening her eyes at the cat in his arms. "Who's this?" She stepped on the porch and approached him, stretching out a hand to scratch under Rusty's chin.

Negan adjusted his grip on Rusty, glancing at Rick, at Beth, and cleared his throat. "This is Rusty. Would you… like to hold him?"

Beth pulled back her hand. "Can I?"

"Yeah. He fucking loves being held." Negan handed Rusty over, the cat letting out a small meow once he settled in Beth's arms. Beth smiled and scratched at his chest.

"He's a cutie."

Rick ran a hand through his hair. "Would you like to keep him?" he asked, sensing Negan's hesitation. Rick nudged him.

Negan sighed. "Yeah, wanna have him? Like as a fucking pet. I'm moving, and he's a stray that hangs around my house. I feed him and shit, and I don't want him to fucking starve when I'm gone."

Rusty nuzzled at Beth's face, and Rick could see the heartbreak in Negan's eyes. Negan composed himself, arms crossed over his chest. Beth grinned. "Yeah, yeah, I can take him. Thanks."

"Cool." Negan gave Rusty one last look, pointed at him, and walked off the porch.

Rick frowned at Negan and shook his head. He wet his lips and looked back at Beth. "Hey, I'm thinking about having a little get-together in a couple days. Friends, neighbors, whatever. Negan and I are cooking out. Would you like to come?"

Beth rocked Rusty in her arms. "I'd love to."

"Rick! So nice of you to come!" Gregory stepped aside, letting Rick inside the office. Rick narrowed his eyes at Gregory, but walked in all the same.

"I didn't think I had a choice." Rick glanced at Maggie, who was sitting in front of the desk, beside Negan, all limbs as he slouched in his chair. He furrowed his brow and walked over, dropping in the remaining seat. "How many days off have you taken?" he asked.

Negan shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I have tenure." He tipped his head to the side. "Who's watching Judy?"

"Beth."

Gregory shuffled over to his desk, clearing his throat as he sat. "Have you been keeping up with the news?" he asked, leaning back in his seat.

"Off and on." He gestured. "I'm assuming you're referring to something specific."

Negan grabbed the arms of the chair, leaning forward. "Yeah, fucking spit it out, Gregory."

Maggie shifted in her chair, crossing her legs. "Brian Blake. He's been on the run for a few days now." She turned her head, looking at Gregory.

"Yes, yes… He's been on the run." Gregory set a hand on his desk, thumb tapping against the edge. "He killed his brother and kidnapped his niece. The police have been searching for him, but they haven't found him."

"They're searching in the wrong area completely," Maggie said. "Got a bad tip, and followed it out of state."

"You guys know where he fucking is, though," Negan said, pointing at Gregory.

"Yes."

"Fucking neato."

"He's still in town. Brian used to run a music store. There's an apartment above it." Maggie shook her head. "This was years ago, so maybe they didn't think anything of it. Or they got that bad tip before searching the place."

"Does he still have his niece?" Rick frowned.

Gregory nodded. "To the best of our knowledge, he still does. She's there with him. She's young, can't exactly leave on her own."

"What's his fucking plan?" Negan asked, sitting up straight in his chair. "Wait it out until he gets fucking caught? Lame-ass plan."

"We need you to take him down, Rick." Gregory watched him. "When you were a cop, I'm sure you've seen men do despicable things. Get rid of Brian, and make sure his niece isn't harmed."

Rick began to nod, and he looked over at Negan. They met eyes for a moment, and Rick turned back to Gregory. "We'll do it."

"Now, Rick, I said—"

"—then why even invite Negan? Just to dangle a job in front of him, and then give it to me?"

"I invited him, Rick," Maggie said. She looked at Gregory, eyes narrowed. "This requires two workers. Rick and Negan work well together." At Gregory's quivering lower lip, Maggie leaned forward. "They're working together."

Gregory waved a hand. "Yes, fine." He looked at Negan, giving a sigh. "You're working with Rick."

"I have fucking ears, Gregory." Negan stood up, jaw clenched as he looked down at him. Under his glare, Gregory seemed to shrink in his chair. Negan grinned, then, and winked at Maggie. "See ya, gorgeous."

Maggie gave him a look. "Behave."

Rick stood and followed Negan out of the room. Before they could leave, Maggie stopped them. "Guys, he might… call himself Philip. That was his brother's name." Rick turned around, studying Maggie. Negan stayed put, head bowed as he held onto the doorknob. She gave a small smile. "Be careful. I'd hate if something happened to either of you." Rick reached over, touching Negan's arm. Negan glanced at Rick and looked over at Maggie. "If something goes wrong," she started, "please, just ca—"

"—don't come back," Gregory interrupted, pointing, waving a finger at them. "They know the rule. Right, Maggie?" He smiled, a forced one, and nudged her.

Maggie looked at the two of them and sighed, shoulders dropping. "Yes, they know the rule."

Negan opened the door and stepped out. Rick followed.

"I didn't know people actually fucking lived above their shops," Negan whispered, trailing behind Rick. "That makes me sound pretty fucking privileged, right?"

Rick adjusted his grip on his gun, glancing over his shoulder at Negan. "A bit. It's okay. I was thinking the same thing." He moved toward the other end of the store, to the door, and opened the door as quietly as he could. Rick peeked inside, seeing a set of stairs that lead to another doorway. He began to trek up the stairs, Negan a close presence behind him.

He stopped in front of the door and waited for Negan. Rick leaned in. "Find the girl," he murmured. Negan nodded and leaned in, too, his forehead against Rick's. "Find the girl first, and then we deal with him."

"Got it." Negan pressed a quick kiss to Rick's lips, murmured a "love ya", and opened up the door. Rick let out a shaky breath and slipped inside.

It was evident the apartment hadn't been lived in for years, judging by the state of the furniture and the amount of dust. It was quiet, too quiet to have a grown man and a young girl living here. Then again, they were supposed to be hiding, so the silence wasn't unusual. Rick watched as Negan went down the hall, peeking into each room as he passed them. Rick walked to a nearby bedroom, pushing open the cracked door.

Inside was a girl, around the age of six, sitting on the bed. Her hair was knotted, and her face was dirty. In her arms was a teddy bear, which she held to her chest. She stared at Rick, eyes widening. Rick felt his face mirror her expression. He lifted a hand and pressed a finger to his lips. The girl nodded and held the bear tighter.

There was a smack, then a thud. "What have you done with my little girl?!"

Rick jolted and looked back at her. He held out a hand. "Stay here. Don't leave this room." She said nothing, only nodded some more, and scooted to lean against the bedroom wall. Rick shut the door and hurried down the hall. He entered the only room with an open door, the master bedroom, to find Negan on the floor, on his back, with Brian standing over him, gun in his face.

"What have you done?!"

Negan shook his head, lifting a hand to wipe the blood coming from his nose. "I haven't fucking done anything."

"Liar."

Rick brought up his arm, and forgetting all proper etiquette, shot as soon as he had his arm steady. "No!" The bullet struck Brian in the side, and he buckled, pressing a hand to the wound. Negan glanced at Rick, eyes narrowed the slightest, and looked back at Brian, kicking at his leg.

Brian dropped to a knee, gun leaving his hold and skidding across the floor. He looked at Rick, eyes wide and teeth bared. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You Brian?" Rick asked, aiming properly with his gun.

"No." Brian shook his head. "I'm Philip."

"We've fucking heard about you. Philip's your brother. You're Brian." Negan said, getting to his feet.

"Brian's dead." Brian looked between them before lurching forward, smacking the gun out of Rick's hand and turning, throwing himself at Negan with a roar.

"Shit!" Negan fell back to the floor, head hitting with a thud. Brian wrapped his fingers around Negan's throat, knuckles white.

Rick watched as the gun slid away, going underneath a dresser. He shook his head, breathing heavily, as he looked over, seeing Negan struggle with Brian. He clawed at the hands at his throat, but nothing seemed to affect Brian. Rick continued to shake his head, jaw clenched, and he ran behind Brian, quickly sliding his arm around his neck and yanking him as hard as he could. Rick felt himself slip and fall, landing on his back with Brian against his chest.

Like Negan had, Brian clawed at Rick's arm, but Rick wouldn't let up. He wouldn't let up for anything. Rick looked up at the ceiling, heels digging into the floor as he arched his back, increasing the pressure against Brian's throat. He listened as he wheezed and wheezed, and Rick pressed a hand to the side of Brian's face. Rick squeezed his eyes shut as he twisted. He heard a snap.

Slowly, Rick pulled his arm back, his hands away from Brian's head. He kept his eyes closed, catching his breath. Brian was a heavy weight against him. Rick opened his eyes and shoved him off, the body rolling with ease next to him. He carefully sat up, swallowing, and met Negan's stare from across the room.

Negan's eyes were wide and lips slightly parted. His nose wasn't bleeding anymore, but there was a smudge on his upper lip. He watched Rick as he rubbed at his neck, faint finger marks on his skin. Negan nodded, starting to grin. "Holy fucking shit, Rick." He lowered his hand and laughed, a raspy thing. "Marry me."

Rick immediately smiled, and he stood up, walking over to Negan and held out his hand. "Get up." He wiggled his fingers. Negan took his hand, and Rick helped pull him into a standing position. He tipped his head to the side, gingerly touching Negan's throat. "Does that hurt?" he asked. Rick furrowed his brow and wiped the blood smear away. "Got you when your back was turned?"

Negan wet his lips after Rick passed his thumb along them. "Marry me." He nodded, lifting a hand to cup Rick's neck. "I'm being fucking serious, Rick. Marry me."

He watched Negan, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I… We have a job to do." Rick touched Negan's hand, pulling it away. "Now's not the time."

"Now is the perfect time," Negan protested. "We've been cheating death for years. I don't want to fucking be alone. I love you. I love Carl and Judith." He held out a hand, palm up. "Please, Rick. Do me the honor." He gave a small smile. "I fucking want to be Mr. Grimes."

Rick laughed and leaned forward, forehead against Negan's. "I can't believe you're doing this." Rick shook his head, looking down. "There's a body right over there."

"Perfect, right?"

"I love you, too," Rick said, pulling back to properly look at Negan. He smiled, nodding. "Okay, fine." Rick set his hand in Negan's, squeezing his fingers. "I'll marry you."

Negan brought Rick's hand up, kissing his knuckles. "Fuck yeah." He dropped his hand and sighed, the slightest hint of a smile still on his lips. "Like you fucking said, though. We have a job to do." Negan turned away from him and dipped down, scooping up his gun. He stuck it behind him. "Have you found the girl? I didn't see her."

Rick moved toward the dresser, stepping over Brian. He crouched and stuck his hand underneath, stretching until he felt his gun. Rick pulled it out and stuck it in his waistband. "Yeah, follow me." Rick moved out of the room, headed down the hall, and carefully opened up the bedroom door. He glanced at Negan, giving him a pointed look, before stepping inside.

The girl was still sitting on the bed, face pressed to the teddy bear. At the door opening, she lifted her head and looked at Rick, at Negan. "Hi."

"Hi," Rick said back, walking over to her. "Can I sit next to you?" She nodded, and Rick sat on the edge of the bed.

"What's your name, kid?" Negan asked, moving to crouch in front of her.

"Penny," she said. She looked at Rick. "Is Uncle Brian dead?"

Rick opened his mouth, then closed it. Negan reached out, pulling in Penny for a hug. "You're safe now, hun," he murmured. Negan held her there for a moment, rubbing her back, before pulling away and standing up. "Stay here with my friend. He'll keep you company, while I make a phone call." Negan gestured at Rick and dug his phone out of his pocket. Rick eyed Negan as he walked out of the room.

"What's your name?" Penny asked.

Rick wet his lips and looked over at her. "Andy." Penny glanced at the doorway, where Negan went. "His name's Jeffrey. You don't have to worry. Nightmare's over."

Penny squeezed her bear. "Uncle Brian was scary."

Rick pulled Penny closer, wrapping her in a hug. "I know."

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?" Negan read.

Rick laughed. "I certainly didn't expect this."

Negan tossed the note back in the nightstand. "So, if I become a Grimes, does that relinquish my fucking hold on the Saviors? Does Gregory fucking get everything? Or, better yet, do you, as my amazing husband, become the fucking head honcho along with me?"

"Whatever you want to happen. But… I think nothing will change. The Hilltop will still be the base of operations."

"Unless we want to change things." Negan looked over at Rick, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm fine with how things are." Rick turned his head, studying Negan. "Well, besides the obvious change." He held out his hand. Negan took his and joined him on the bed.

Rick narrowed his eyes at Negan. He swayed in his spot, biting back a smile. Negan glared at him. "Don't fucking do it."

"I have to."

"No, you fucking don't."

Rick reached over, not taking his eyes off Negan. He touched something warm and gooey. Rick curled his fingers.

Negan shook his head. "Rick fucking Grimes."

Rick smeared a dollop of icing across Negan's face. Around them, there were cheers and laughter. Negan grinned and turned, grabbing a handful of cake. He pushed it into Rick's face, fingers dragging down. Rick laughed and reached up, touching Negan's neck with icing-coated fingers.

Though Negan tried to move away, Rick caught him. They kissed.