Sunny Days

Chapter 19

Negan woke with a long, languid stretch  of his limbs. His hands reached to the other side of the bed for the  warm body of his wife, hoping to nestle his morning wood into the curve  of her backside, but his grasping fingers were met with only air and  silky sheets. He cracked open his eyes. The bed was empty. Shit.

He  sat up, the bedding falling to his waist, his hands scrubbed the salt  and pepper stubble on his chin before running through his hair. He  scanned the room for Sunny but her small figure was nowhere to be seen.  His brows knitted together, blood racing, before noticing the light that  shone from under the bathroom door.

Grabbing  his jeans from the floor, he pulled them on. Tugging the corner of the  comforter, he made the bed. He may not be able to bounce a quarter of  it, but it was good enough. He chose not to pick out an outfit, she  probably wouldn't wear whatever he chose for her anyways in a fit of  rebellion. She made it clear she was done with the rules and games they  played.

He left the room to get the rest of  his clothes from his closet in the office. He would let her cool off a  little more. She was obviously still mad and needed some space if she  had gotten up before him to hide.

Normally,  he could just fuck her silly until she forgot what was bothering her.  However, last night was the first night they hadn't had sex since she  arrived. And this time it wouldn't be enough. He would have to talk to  her. He prided himself on being more of a man of action. Typically, that  action was either fighting or fucking. Communication had never been his  strong suit.

  

Right now, however, he would do what he always did. He would make  his morning rounds. Get the newest reports. Then bring Sunny her  breakfast. Going through the motions would give him something to do to  keep him from brooding on that closed door and the possible walls she  was building between them.

  

"Fuck," he muttered as he locked the door behind him. He felt his  mood souring. He didn't want to deal with anyone. He only wanted her and  what kind of a pussy-whipped fool did that make him? Did he even care?

  

He half listened to the reports on any incidents that happened  during the night. It was pretty quiet. A few walkers needed to be  replaced on the wall. The remnants of one or two were no more than a  snarling puddle having decomposed through the chains and poles that  bound them. Not exactly the height of fucking security.

  

As he left his office, crowds of survivors knelt as he passed,  heavy boots hitting the floor in the silence of their deference rang in  his ears as never before. Their unkempt clothing a sign of their station  in life. Ragamuffin children leaned into their mothers, hiding from his  gaze.

  

The warning Sunny had given him, replayed in his mind. How long did  they really have before the workers realized they didn't need the  Saviors. Didn't need him? What would happen to them?

  

He knew what he would fucking do. He would grab Sunny and Lucille  and high-tail it out of there as fucking fast as he could. They would  live in her house without anyone ever knowing. The two of them and  Sherry, he supposed, would live a comfortable life. It actually seemed  like a dream now. But he would make sure there was no need. No uprising.  No mutiny. He could keep this ship afloat. Hell, he was on his way to  having a whole fucking armada of outposts and communities at his  disposal.

  

Negan took a tray from the kitchen and made the trek back upstairs  to their floor. Breakfast seemed to be some sort of oatmeal concoction  with a few sad berries on top. If she didn't like it she could grab a  peanut butter jelly sandwich from the fridge. Better than nothing, he  thought. But not as good as she was eating at home. He shook that truth  from his mind.