Irresistible Danger

Just A Tray?

The incessant beeping of the alarm woke you up out of a dreamless sleep, and you reached out to grab blindly at the bedside table for the watch, not yet wanting to open your eyes and deal with reality. Rubbing at your temples, you noticed that you still had a slight headache, but that it seemed a bit less intense than this morning, which was hopefully a good sign. You hadn't felt any nausea since waking up in Negan's bed last night, and besides feeling constantly exhausted, and also having some soreness in your ankle, you felt, physically, fine.

Now, emotionally...that was a whole other story. There was still so much swirling around your head, in regards to Negan. Rather than sit and try to sort out your feelings about everything, you took the easier route: denial.

Getting out of bed, you walked over to the crates holding your belongings and stripped off Negan's sweatpants. Folding them into a neat pile, you gave them a quick sniff. They still smelled clean, and in fact, you swore that there was a small hint of Negan's fragrance lingering on them. Bringing them closer to your nose and inhaling again, a small smile tipped your lips at the masculine scent.

Realizing what you were doing, the smile flew from your face as you quickly tossed the pants into a crate. Dear god, you've become that person who steals her boyfriend's clothing and creepily smells it...wait...BOYFRIEND???

Slamming down the gates on that train of thought, you mentally slapped your brain upside the head and told it to focus on getting dressed. Your subconscious was loving this; it bounced excitedly on the edge of the bed and giggled with glee.

After (finally) putting on some underwear, you grabbed the pair of jeans with the slit in the thigh. Negan still had your other pair, and you made a mental note to make a pants trade-off with him in the near future.

Although some of the strands were still a little damp from where you had been lying on them, you gathered your hair up into your signature bun, before grabbing the purple watch and clasping it around your wrist. Putting on socks and sneakers, you took one final glance at yourself in the mirror before heading out the door and down to the kitchen.

You paused after entering the cafeteria, slightly unwilling to go forward. You were nervous to see the staff, not knowing how they were going to react to your presence. It had only been 24 hours since you were last in here, but so much had happened in that short period of time. Perhaps, you should've taken the day off, after all.

Shaking your head to clear it, you took a deep breath and muttered a half-hearted, "You got this," before crossing the large cafeteria and pushing through the doors to the kitchen.

Ben was there, of course, as was most of the other scheduled staff. They were already washing up and moving to their designated areas to start dinner prep. When they heard the doors swing open, they glanced up, pausing when they saw that it was you.

They stared silently for a few moments, and you stared back, uncertain how to proceed. Then, as if the movement was choreographed, they all walked towards you at once. Each one of them started spouting different questions in your direction.

"Are you alright?"

"We heard you were unconscious in the woods!"

"Were you kidnapped?!"

They half surrounded you with their excitement, and you felt the low throb of your headache start to elevate at the overload of stimuli. Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the questions, silencing them abruptly. Looking over at the source of the noise, you saw Ben lower two fingers from his mouth, before announcing, "Alright folks, let's give her some space. This isn't an interrogation."