Negan was sprawled out on the couch, one leg laying straight across the cushions, the other dangling off the edge. He was propped up against the arm rest and a few pillows, his leather jacket hanging over the back of the couch. He he one glove on as he took apart his gun before putting it back together as fast as he could. Negan was fast, too. Always got it under two minutes with nothing wrong. It impressed Carl, really, but each time Carl was proud of Negan Negan shot him down. Same sentence every time.
"They can kill you in under two minutes, kid, you gotta be ready to fight in under one."
Guns were serious. You couldn't be alive during this time and not know that. They saved you and they killed you. Carl learned that when he was just a child. He felt the power at his finger tips when he held a gun. Felt the weight of not only metal but the world in his hands. Guns were one of the most important things in every survival group. They could make or break you and your family. They could make or break you, too.
Negan always told Carl to never be afraid to pull the trigger. He said it as if Carl needed to be reminded. As if as a kid Carl didn't have to shoot his father figure and his mother. As if as a kid he didn't break a zombie free because he was too afraid to pull the trigger. As if Carl didn't sneak in and gun down Negans men with the intention to do the same to Negan. Carl knew the darkness of a gun better than he knew himself. But instead of fearing it, he loved it.
There was a dangerous beauty in the way Negan was spread out, piecing his gun back together as if he didn't have to think about it. The way his scratched up, broken and beaten hands touched the gun more gently than he ever touched Carl. Using weapons were easy for Negan. He didn't fear them, in fact, he was one. His mind to could kill thousands, his smile wounding millions. Carl would know. He had been Negans victim many times.
"You know, staring is rude." Negan didn't look up from his gun as he spoke. He blinked slowly, studying it, before curling his fingers around it. He lifted the gun and aimed it at Carl, chuckling. "She's a beauty, isn't she? One good thing about the world ending is that guns like her are for free." He dropped his arm and smiled.
"She is." Carl mumbled. He would tease Negan for calling the gun a she, but he already got lectured on it once. 'You call them she because you love them, the way you love a girl.' Carl never loved a girl, so he would never understand. "But shes not what I was looking at." Carl tried his best to look innocent, but it didn't work. A dark red blush creeped up his neck and nervousness filled his veins.
"Yeah?" Negan swung his other leg over the end of the couch and sat up, planting both of his feet on the ground. Negan aimed the gun at Carl again, but this time it was aimed lower. "Mind telling me what you were looking at, kid?"
Carl looked down, avoiding Negans gaze. "I mean... I partly was looking at her but... I-" He shook his head. "Don't make me say it. This is stupid. You know what I was lookong at." Carl ran his fingers through his hair, making sure to pull strands in front of his face. He couldn't have Negan see him blush like a little girl.
"Because, I'm in charge and that means you do what I say." Negan raised the gun and smiled. "I'm also the one with the gun, also known as the one you should listen to so you don't get your brains blown out." He lowered the gun and smiled. "So... what was my handsome boy looking at?"
"You..." Carl whispered like it was a secret. "You and the gun... but... it was mostly you... your hands and stuff... and how your legs were spread." He could feel his face burning and it was uncomfortable. But not as uncomfortable as Negans eyes on him. "Do you have to stare?"
"Mhm." Negan chuckled, lifting his head up and rubbing his temple with the tip of the gun. "Because you're my boy and I can do whatever I want to you. Including blow your brains out." He fell silent for a moment. "But you..." The tip of the gun was aimed at Carls other eye. "Would like that, wouldn't you?"
