Sick

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Negan gets up from the sofa.

"You alright?" He asks.

You take your head out of the toilet. "No, i'm not fucking alright!" You frown.

Negan grimaces at the stench of vomit. "You sick?"

"Give the man a medal!" You spit.

"There's no need to get fucking snappy," Negan frowns.

"Actually, there is. I'm pregnant," you say, glancing up at him.

Negan stares down at you, his mouth agape. "Really?"

"Really," you nod. "I did a test."

Negan's lips curl up in the corners, creeping into a smile. "I'm gonna be a daddy?"

"You're gonna be a daddy," you smile.

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