The Honey House

Poetry

If Negan would have known he'd be bootless in Grandma's kitchen he would have worn better socks. As it stood there was something about the orange and burgundy stripes that didn't exactly scream badass. He tucked his feet under his chair and placed his bloodied hand on the kitchen table for the old ladies inspection.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had mothered him like this. When he came home to his lovely wives they only turned up their nose at the blood and sweat that came with leading the saviours and putting food on their table.

Grandma Ellie dabbed his knuckles with something that stung like a sonofabitch and Negan sucked in an involuntary hiss.

"Don't be a baby," she scolded, dabbing him again. "So, you've brought my granddaughter home but why you really here Negan?"

That was a very good fucking question, "Jacob," was the easy answer and one that caught her attention.

She let his hand slip back to the table and quickly picked it back up, "he's a problem."

"Then I think you'd agree it's in everyone's best interests if that fucker met his maker."

"I'll remind you to mind your manners, this isn't a gentleman's club."

Negan chuckled, "Grandma Ellie, I could've used a broad like you when I was setting up the Sanctuary."

She gave him a disapproving look, dabbing his knuckles with the hardstuff once more. "What have you asked my Rae for in return for your help?"

Negan frowned, "what do you take me for Grandma Ellie?"

"A man who comes to a strangers house and bloodies his knuckles before he's even crossed the porch." She wrapped his hand with a fresh bandage her shrewd eyes never wavering from him.

Not that it mattered to him, or maybe it fucking did, "you don't think I should have hit that... dingleberry ."

"Oh, Miguel has needed a good-hiding for a long time," Grandma Ellie said matter of factly as she stood up and motioned him into the adjacent dining room with her bony little hand. "Plates and cutlery are in the dresser and no more trouble before supper."

There was no option in her order and Negan stood confused for a moment as he stared at the dresser. Grandma Ellie was certainly a force to be reckoned with and he decided right then that he liked the crazy old broad.

He opened the door to see three neat stacks of mish mashed china plates and tried to remember the last time he'd set a table before wondering if he had in fact ever set a table. It seemed an oddity, an entire life without giving one moment to lay plates and cutlery out to turn food into a meal.

He looked over his shoulder and the door between the kitchen and dining room was closed leaving nothing but him and the huge mahogany table to witness him carrying out the orders of a 78 year old lady. He laughed to himself as he laid down delicate floral plates and the shiny silver cutlery. He was just about to sit down when he realised he'd forgotten about Lucille for the second time since Rae had stumbled into his life.

His heart hammered as he bounded into the kitchen to find her under the table, sprawled on the floor like she was nothing. He picked her up and she punished him with a nick of a barb slicing into his thumb to remind him who was top bitch. He was fucking loosing it, laying grandma's table when he should have been dividing shit and owning the place.

His fists clenched tight around the end of Lucille, he was a heart beat from unleashing holy hell when the kitchen door swung open and in stomped Little Red who gave him one horrified look before she scurried over to Grandma.