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You pace outside the door, hearing the muffled sounds of swearing and hissing. It had been long enough, You needed to know. Taking a deep breath you finally knock. "WHAT?!" You hear the other side and slowly open it to see him shirtless, sat on the doctor's table as the doctor finished wrapping up his arm. You blush as you look at him and suddenly, look down to your feet as you find them much more interesting. "Give us a moment." He sighs. The doctor nods and leaves the room immediately, closing the door behind him leaving you both alone.
"Are you okay?" You manage to ask.
"It was just a fuckin' scratch. Luckily, that prick had a fuckin' shit shot." Negan mumbles, jumping down to his feet.
"Careful." You whisper, not wanting him to hurt himself further.
"Doll, you don't get to fuckin' do this...this is your fault. I told you to wait in the fuckin' truck!" He snarls. You nod, and look down to your feet again, knowing he's right. "
I'm sorry, Negan." Against your better judgement, you step towards him, wrapping your arms around his naked chest, inhaling that intoxicating scent again. Negan doesn't hesitate and holds you with his good arm.
"Well, maybe next time, do as you're fucking told, alright?" He sighs as you hear him softening in his voice. You nod against him and place a kiss among the splash of salt and pepper hair on his chest.
"Thank you for what you did." You whisper, afraid he wouldn't want to talk about it.
"Well you're my fuckin' wife. I wasn't letting some prick with a gun kill off my favourite fuck buddy now was I?" You could hear his low drawl echo around his chest and slowly removed your ear from him, looking up at his face. You knew it was more than that, even if he'd never admit it. He'd just risked his life for yours. Whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not, that spoke volumes. He cared. He really cared.
"Sure." You agree. His eyes softened as they glance over you.
"You're covered in blood, are you hurt?" He asks, gently, his hand snaking up your back to your cheek as his large thumb brushes over the heated skin delicately.
"I'm fine. It's not mine." You can't help but smirk at the memory, "it's his." You explain. Your favourite shit eating grin spreads over his unshaven mouth as his eyes sparkle.
"That's my girl." He drawls, his eyes now lidded as he looks down at you, and you up at him. "I'm sorry, doll but you need to leave." He finally sighs, stepping away from you.
