ELEANOR . NEGAN

121.

Eleanor was afraid to move; a deep integrated part of her brain screaming at her that one flinch would cause this slither of heaven and peace to end. Negan's arms around her torso was something so beautiful and comfortable that she was genuinely afraid to move.

"You feel like a stick—"

She didn't say anything else but nudged him, her elbow grazing his ribs that made him spew out throaty chuckles.

"Dick," she coughed. "I'm not a stick—"

"Sure you are." He mumbled, half coherent and half so relaxed he couldn't be assed to use full syllables.

Eleanor just rolled her eyes and lifted Negan's head with her hands, cupping his jaw to grab his attention. He just had this dazed off grin, puppy eyes — the lot. She just stared at him with a small smile; biting her lip softly while they stared at each other.

"You're so pretty."

Negan chuckled, his eyebrows screwing together. "What?"

"You heard me."

There was a warm red creeping along his tanned skin while his vulnerability poked out through his actions. Negan just laughed once more and hid his face away in the burrow of her neck. Eleanor relished in the comfort and scraped her nails against his scalp, carding his hair through her fingers. He just let out tiny mumbles of appreciation.

"How long are we in here for?" Elle whispered, afraid to speak too loud. Maybe they forgot about them, maybe talking too loud will remind them.

"Not sure, doll." He shrugged, his arms growing tighter around her torso. "It's my reward."

"Aww, you've been a good boy, have you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Watch it." He mumbled against her skin. "Warden didn't give me a goddamn time limit, sunshine. 'm getting rewarded for helping, y'know, 'cause I'm a good boy."

This time, Eleanor rolled her eyes. "What did you tell him?"

"Said I'd help him find his threat." He huffed. "I appreciate dramatics, but Holy Mary of Jesus..." He trailed off his words with tiny chuckles, ironic ones.

"How are you gonna do that?" Eleanor carefully asked, her fingers halting for a second. She was afraid Negan was going to do the one thing she begged him not to.

"Thinking about telling him I need more time, make up some shit that I have an idea on who it is." He looked up at her through his curled eyelashes, a small smile on his features. "Give us a whole lot of time for Buddy Daryl to save the day."

Eleanor just smirked and laid back against the pillow. "That's a good plan," she admitted. "Fuck, has this place made you smarter?"

"No, I just had to activate my inner Eleanor." He quipped. "I couldn't do this shit without thinking of you, doll, y'know, it's a Goddamn shithole here."

"Good thing you're getting out."

He just hummed.

"I was thinking about Maya," Elle whispered. "She was Milton's personal painter, right? I heard she got paid more than Daryl did... so maybe she's with her? Or, or they kept her with the kids. I doubt a guard wants to babysit all the time."

Negan chuckled. "Whatever it is, she'll be fine."

"I know, I know, it's just..." Elle sighed. "Well, I don't really need to fucking explain myself; I'd be freaked out if you didn't know how my brain worked by now."

"Mhm, I figured your noggin' out in the first ten minutes I saw you."

Eleanor grew shocked at that. There was the obvious harsh remembrance of those they lost that night, but she grew curious into how he knew her brain. All Eleanor wanted to do on the night of the line-up was to bash Negan's face in, let alone figure out the ins and outs of his mind.