Bad Bad Ritual | CEGAN

I could not smother out that fire in my head

Carl rode sullenly next to Dwight, bumping all around the big cargo truck as it trundled down the twisting road headed towards Alexandria. Some part of him was still mad, mad that Negan told him all he wanted was for him to go home, mad that that upset him, mad at himself for having come all this way for nothing.

What had he expected really? For Negan to ask him to stay? For Negan to tell him he'd spent just as much time thinking about him as Carl had while they were apart? At the center of it all, Carl didn't know what he wanted out of all this. Or maybe he did but he just wasn't ready to admit it yet.

"You, uh, you okay there, kid?" Dwight intoned, blue eyes never straying from the road. He had one hand on the wheel, the other lazily hung out the window.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Carl replied curtly, keeping his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze out the window.

"If you're sure..." The older man cleared his throat awkwardly and pulled out a crushed pack of smokes, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. He took a long, slow draw off of it and blew the smoke out on an equally slow exhale.

All too soon the gates of his community came into view. Carl asked Dwight to drop him off a little ways off so as to not worry anyone. The blonde man simply nodded and pulled the gear shift, the breaks hissing as they came to a stop. He thanked the other and hopped out of the cab, slowly making his way back inside.

Immediately, he sought out his bed and flopped down onto it, head still throbbing and stomach still queasy. It was still unmade, comforter rumpled up into a ball in the middle, pillow slid off into the floor. He just wanted to sleep, sleep forever and forget the last twenty four hours. He sighed at the thought of forcing himself up and into the bathroom for a shower. He just didn't have the energy right now.

Negan had been so gentle with him this morning, it didn't feel real. His hand resting on the back of his neck, bringing him food and medicine, feeding him. It was so strange but..Carl couldn't deny that he liked it, he liked having Negan's undivided attention.

The night before too, Negan had been so unexpectedly kind to him. He'd gotten so drunk he couldn't see straight, crawled all over Negan, begged him to fuck him and Negan didn't. He'd stopped Carl and sent him to bed.

Even when he'd helped clear the building with Negan's men, Negan had been right on his heels as he'd gone off alone further into the darkened hallways, keeping an eye on him.

He felt like an idiot anytime the thought of Negan actually caring for him flitted through his mind. That was stupid. He couldn't go back now, he just couldn't.

///

"Boss?" A man with a shaved head and a green army vest popped his head into Negan's office. "We're collecting from Hill Top and Alexandria today."

"Right," Negan pushed his chair back, grabbing his coat off the back of it, and stood up from his desk, and took up Lucille from where she was propped against the yellowing oak panel. "Let's get going."

Outside, his men had gathered up around the trucks, standing, not moving a muscle, awaiting his command. He loved being the boss some days. The walkers gnashing their teeth and moaning and rattling their chains off to the side of the convoy was almost deafening with so many people standing around within their site line. Their decrepit, mummified fingers grasped at his men, black ooze gurgling up out of their mouths like they were salivating.

"Let's get going, ladies and gentlemen, we don't have all day and I would like to be back home in time for dinner." He smirked cockily and leaned back into his usual easy going slouch. "One of my ladies is cooking a special dinner for me tonight and she would be pissed if it got cold."