[chanting] FEB 12, FEB 12, FEB 12, FEB 12, FEB 12, FEB 12-

Negan had never planned on growing his beard as long as he did. He had just been so caught up with keeping everyone and everything in line that it had always slipped his mind. But now some free time had dropped from the very heavens and landed on his outstretched hands, and he was not going to waste a fucking opportunity.

He was planning on having one of his wives do it for him – maybe he'd get to fuck them after, to see how it felt with his face bare – when an object of interest suddenly walked past, and a better idea crossed his mind.

"Hey, doll."

Georgia stopped walking and turned around, eyebrows raised. She had her hair braided down, but a few strands had fallen loose, framing her face. She looked tired, but her tawny gaze was as fiery as ever. She didn't kneel. She never did. But she still knew who was boss and fuck him if it didn't turn him on.

"You busy?" he said.

"I was just on my way to the kitchen—"

"Screw that. They can deal fine without you. I got something for you to do."

She raised a questioning eyebrow, but he turned on his heel before she could say anything. Her footsteps trailed quickly behind him before they were walking side by side. She kept up pretty well.

"What is it?" she asked.

Negan grinned. "Just wait, doll. You'll love it."

He led her to his parlor, not bothering to introduce her to the other wives. If he was lucky, the closest thing they'd ever get to a bitch fight was a stare-down, which was exactly what he got – more specifically, from Josie. She had always been a jealous bitch. Negan took a moment to throw her a warning glare before practically shoving Georgia into the bathroom.

Her eyes were wide with shock and fear. Negan rolled his eyes. "Relax, doll. I ain't gonna ask you to fucking suck me off. Like I said, I just need a favor."

"And sucking you off wouldn't be a favor?" Her voice was shaky, betraying her anxiety, but the challenge was clear in her eyes. That was what he'd loved about her in the first place. She didn't take shit from him but was smart enough to give him respect.

"It'd be an act of fucking kindness, sweetheart." He winked. "Why? You offering?"

She switched her gaze to the floor. Grinning, Negan got a razor and a bottle of shaving cream from the medicine cabinet and handed them to her. Her eyes widened even further. She raised her head and gave him a disbelieving look.

"Do I need to fucking spell it out for you?" He pulled a high stool from the corner and sat down on it, unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and laid it on his lap. "I'm putting a lot of trust in you, doll. If you slit my throat, I am coming back and pulling your guts out from your fucking neck. Got it?"

He didn't think she'd do that, he thought. Not in a million years. Still, he waited for her to nod her head before relaxing completely. When she still didn't move, he released an impatient growl. "Don't you fucking know how to shave a beard?"

"I—I do, but—"

"Then fucking do it!"

Her gaze only turned even steelier, as he'd expected. Resisting the urge to smile, he watched as she plucked his towel from the rack and placed it around his neck. She turned towards the sink, and he took the opportunity to stare at her ass. A light whistle escaped his lips. When she turned back around, she glared at him, but he could see it was half-hearted.

She was shaking a bit when she put the shaving cream on him with the brush. She still was when she brought the razor up. Quickly, Negan grabbed her wrist and stared at her hard. "One fucking cut, doll. Fucking try me."

The nervousness seemed to leak out of her. When he let go of her wrist, her hands were as steady as they were when she was holding her bat. She placed the razor against his temple, using her other hand to stretch his skin. Her touch was feather light but strong at the same time. She moved it here and there, touching him wherever she needed to.

All too soon, she had finished with his face and moved on to the hair on his neck. When her fingers touched him there, his eyes drifted shut. He didn't even fucking care if she smelled like dried sweat; it was a pleasant change to whatever fucking perfumes his wives wore. Georgia was strong and entirely capable of handling herself. Negan couldn't help but to think what she'd be like in bed.

He felt himself grow hard. Her hand suddenly stopped moving before she pulled it away entirely. Negan opened his eyes and grinned. She was staring down at his lap, her face a mixture of irritation and surprise.

"Can you fucking blame me, darlin'?" he said. "Your hands are like heaven."

She stared at him for a long moment before stepping up again and continuing her work. Negan made it a point to watch her through half-lidded eyes – took in the way she drew her bottom lip between her teeth in concentration, with her eyes slightly narrowed. Her hand moved across his ear and his eyes fluttered shut again. His hard-on grew.

But then she had finished, pulling back from him like he was the plague. He didn't miss the reluctance that crossed her face, though.

As she was washing the razor, he came up from behind her. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for her to feel him breathing down her neck. He saw the goosebumps trailing down her skin, and he grinned. "Didn't I fucking say that you'd love it?"

She just pursed her lips and moved away. Laughing lightly, he stepped up to the sink and began washing the shaving cream off his face. Once he was done, he turned fully to her and held his hands out at his sides, eyebrows raised.

"Well?" he said. "Do I look like a male model or what?"

"You look… different."

"Huh." He came up closer to her and leaned down with a grin. "So you liked the scruff a bit more than you cared to fucking show, did you?"

"I'm just not used to how this one looks on you." She blinked. "What made you want to shave it anyway?"

He shrugged. "We got this group about a week ago. Came, saw, and fucking conquered. But one of the pricks had a fuzz even thicker than mine, and I sure as hell didn't fucking want to look like him."

"Why not?"

"Well, he's buried without a fucking skull right now."

"Oh."

There was no fear in her voice, just hard acceptance of his words. Another thing he liked about her. She wasn't squeamish.

A moment of tense silence passed between them before she asked to take her leave. Negan just nodded, but he followed her ass out with his eyes. When she was gone, he looked down and sighed.

He was still hard.