Li'l Sparky // [Daryl Dixon]

Warriors

Season: Seven

Episode: Hearts Still Beating

*Ryan's POV*

Negan had made himself quite at home here. I didn't know if I should be relieved or terrified. At least he wasn't trying to kill anyone. 

And when I said he made himself at home, I meant really.

As in he just made spaghetti. 

As in we were sitting at a table, waiting for Rick's return. 

"I'm not waiting for your dad anymore," Negan said suddenly. "I don't know where the hell he is, but Lucille... is hungry. Carl, pass the rolls... please." Carl did so, unwillingly. 

We ate the spaghetti in silence. I had to give major props to Negan; the spaghetti was amazing.

After that, Negan and I sat on the front porch. Neither of us had talked in over fifteen minutes. That all changed when he spoke some of the most unholy words ever.

"What do you mean 'Greedo shot first'?" I asked in shock. "Everyone knows Han shot first!" 

"Have you watched the original?" Negan asked. "Greedo shoots first!"

"I can't even look at you right now," I turned away stubbornly. 

"Okay, I'm sorry," Negan said. "Can you please turn around now?" I shook my head like a petulant child. 

"Bitch," he muttered.

"Jerk," I shot back. 

"She speaks!" he laughed. I noticed Spencer walking up the street. Arat stopped him with one arm. 

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" she hissed.

"I just want to talk," Spencer said.

"No," Arat shook her head.

"I just wanna talk," Spencer pleaded.

"I said 'no'," Arat repeated. 

"Don't be an asshole, Arat," Negan spoke up. "Let the man pass." She stepped aside submissively. Spencer walked up the steps, holding a bottle of whiskey. 

"Oh, crap," Negan smiled. "Is that for me?" 

"We haven't officially met," Spencer said. "I'm Spencer Monroe. Hi." He sat down in my chair, forcing me to lean against a post. Dick. 

"Running water, air conditioning, a housewarming gift?" Negan poured some of the whiskey in two glasses. "That settles it. I am getting myself a vacation home here."

"Cheers to that," Spencer lifted his glass. The two men took a sip of their drinks. I felt extremely left out. 

"Oh, that is good," Negan exclaimed. "You know, the only thing missing is a pool table. Nothing better than a good game of 8 ball."

"The house across the street has one in the garage," Spencer pointed out. 

"Oh, Spencer, you may just be my new best friend," Negan grinned. "Such a nice day, though-- too nice to be cooped up inside some garage, don't you think? Yeah. Oh, I got a better idea." He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and walked to the house. I followed him.

He opened the garage and marveled at the pool table. 

"Help me with this," he asked me and grabbed a side. I grabbed the opposite side and lifted the table.

"Lift with your legs, Ryan," Negan teased as we moved the table outside. 

"I'm doin' all the liftin'!" I exclaimed. Negan rolled his eyes. We carried the table out to the street. Spencer and Negan started playing.