ELEANOR . NEGAN

125.

"What about this?" Eleanor asked, her head resting on his bare chest as she scrolled through the costume list from the nearest fancy dress shop. "It's cute—"

"No, it fucking ain't." He barked. "Look at it!"

"It's not that bad—"

"It's very fucking bad." He mumbled into her hair while his fingers traced her bare spine. "Even with my glasses, it's bad."

Eleanor just laughed. They were both looking at a couples costume where the male dressed as Hugh Hefner and the woman was dressed as a Playboy Bunny. "I think I'd look great—"

"I'm not going as him."

She pouted. "Fine."

Eleanor scrolled a bit more and just browsed the list. Nothing was standing out, not a single thing. "What about we make our own costumes?" Elle looked at him through the corner of her eyes and raised a brow. "I'll be the sexy baseball player and you'll be a zombie."

She could've laughed. "I'll be the zombie?"

"Mhm, and the virus is spread through genital touching—"

"Ew, Negan."

"—hence why I'm the sexy baseball player and you're the dead zombie. Ooh, you could be a hooker." Eleanor's jaw dropped. "I pay you a handsome fee, you're a zombie, boom — dead zombie Negan."

Eleanor didn't have to use any words for Negan to understand how not amused she was. It only made him laugh where his chest bobbed under her head and his hands clenched down on her waist. Negan was infectious; she laughed along with him.

"So no Hefner and the bunnies, and especially no zombies." Eleanor quipped before scrolling some more. "What about this?" On the screen was a couples outfit; a mob boss and a flapper.

The mob boss had a striped suit with a black hat and it came with a wad of cash with a toy rifle. There was a red tie (that Eleanor thought could be used for something else) and a golden pocket watch that was very much not real.

But the flapper was something else — increasingly better than the mob boss costume. It came with a black feather fan, pearly necklaces that looped around its neck. The dress itself was... goddamn. Negan could already imagine Eleanor in it. The way it would tighten around her curves and bring out all the bits he loved the most.

Negan let out a hum and nestled his hand against her bare back. "Yes, yes, and yes to the dress—" She rolled her eyes. "Does it mean I can have a cigar?"

Eleanor looked at him blankly. "Do you think if I said no you'd listen?"

"My favourite pastime is you bossing me about like a Goddamn principal." His fingers slowly dipped to the dimples at her lower back. "Of course I'd listen."

She just laughed and nestled her head further into his chest. "It's not very scary..."

"We can head back to the zombie idea—"

"Fuck no."

Negan let out a bark of hefty chuckles. "It's good, doll. You'll look good."

"Hm, you think so?"

He could've scoffed. Instead, he just brought his hand down onto her ass and let out a wolfish noise. Eleanor shot up and looked at him with a shocked face; he just laughed.