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Ch. 4 - Average Joe

"24."

"I'm not 48, where the fuck did you learn math? They shouldn't have ever been in charge of kids."

I rolled my eyes at his comment, "I said like twice my age. What's today's date?"

"April 18th."

"I'll be 25 in two days." My voice decrescendo'd as we approached our first house.

"Well I sure as shit am not 50," he argued.

The wooden exterior had begun to rot, pieces fallen to the overgrown grass that populated the lawn. Shingles on the roof had been removed, most likely from harsh weather and high winds. I pulled my knife from my boot, Negan readied his precious Lucille. He tried to step in front of me, but I pushed him back. I wanted to go in first, I could take care of myself. I don't need anybody doing that shit for me.

"I got this," I whispered. As I turned the knob, the door let out a high-pitched squeak. When it was far enough open for me to enter, I did so quickly. The floorboards creaked and the house smelled as if it had been vacant for years, the stench of mothballs filling the air unclaimed by rotting flesh. I let out a whistle loud enough to be heard throughout the house once I heard Negan shut the door. If any walker heard, they would follow. A single walker stood at the top of the steps, quickly tumbling down as if it were a child's toy being pushed down like a game. When the walker reached the bottom of the stairs, it struggled to stand, so I swiftly moved to its side before diving my blade into its temple.

"Too easy, almost." I wiped the blood off on a slanted curtain, the rod almost falling out of the drywall. Negan and I rummaged through the house. I started upstairs and he, downstairs. There were three rooms; the first room a dull pink, I assume it was once vibrant. The flower trim was ripped every-so-often, and there were a few raggedy toys scattered around. The next room had a couple of plaques mounted on the dark walls, even a small wooden bat hanging from a rather empty bat rack. Quickly, I moved my knife back into my boot and took the bat from its home. It was smaller and lighter than the one Negan had. Of course, there was no barbed wire, because it was owned by a child and not a grown sociopath.

The final room seemed to belong to the parents of the house. Their bathroom had medication scattered in the cabinets. I shoveled as much of it as I could into the bag Negan gave me once we split in the house. I left the room and went downstairs, where I found Negan, sitting on the kitchen counter. I swung the bat in my hand like I had seen my dad do before, he loved baseball.

"Well, well, well!" Negan exclaimed, hopping down and leaving Lucille against the cabinets. He reached for the bat and I extended it towards him. I released my grip once he had ahold of it. "I'm taking this back with me!" He swung the bat around a few times, almost like he was on deck and about to be up to bat. He turned and grabbed Lucille, a wide grin growing on his face, "I could never cheat on my baby, though." We exited the house and repeated the sweeping process until we finished looting the cul-de-sac. His men were finishing around the same time, causing everybody to regroup at the trucks.

"I hope you motherfuckers found us some good shit," Negan's voice boomed. "Go find a good house to set up in, I want no less then 8 men per house." He turned to face me, "guess fucking what?" I rolled my eyes, knowing the answer. He was going to make me stay in the same house as him. I jutted out my bottom lip, huffing air upwards and causing strands of hair to fly. I turned and started walking towards the same lot of houses we just searched before a hand grabbed my wrist, spinning me on my heels.

"I said, guess fucking what," Negan said in a low voice. "You speak when you're spoken to, Jade." The once echoing footsteps of The Saviors had come to a halt. I didn't break eye contact. The closer Negan got, the deeper my scowl fell. I cocked my head to the side mockingly.

"What, sir?" I noticed that everybody addressed him as 'sir.' I knew why he was doing this, his men were watching.

My thoughts were confirmed as a playful smirk overtook his face, "I like when you call me that."

He paused, his face turning into a menacing glare again. He tightened his grip around my wrist. "You're fucking coming with me." The men in the background began to disperse, almost separating equally between themselves. As the pitter-patter of their boots fell quieter, Negan's grip on my arm became more loose.

"I told you, do not act like that in front of-"

"People," I cut him off. "I know, I'm sorry." He had completely released my wrist by now. I rubbed where his grip was, soothing the skin.

"Did I fuckin' hurt you?" Negan questioned, lifting the back of my hand to investigate my wrist.

I pulled my hand away, my wrist was fine. The skin was just irritated, it wasn't painful. "No, I'm fine." I watched as he opened the back of our truck and loaded in the smaller bat and items from his bag. I followed and did the same. He threw his bag over his shoulder, something metal clanking within the fabric. He looked at me, flung Lucille over his other shoulder and said, "we gotta fuckin' eat." We wandered back to the houses, entering the first house with three bedrooms. There was one mattress left upstairs, it was the only one left in any of the houses we inspected.

"Who gets the mattress?" I turned my face toward him.

"Nobody. We're sleeping on the couches."

"Dibs on the bigger one." I said quickly. He took off towards the living space with two couches. I, of course, raced after him. He can't break dibs. When the couch was in sight, I jumped towards it, as did Negan. I landed after he did, as he covered the whole couch. His bag laid on the ground in front of the couch. I stood up immediately.

"What the fuck, I called dibs!" I protested his victory. He shrugged his shoulders and sported a wide grin, showcasing his teeth. There was just enough light in the room, it seemed to dance off his face. "Fuck you," I threw a cushion at him, causing him to catch it.

"Well, we are alone darlin'," he wiggled his eyebrows and spread his legs and arms open, dropping the cushion. "N'the night is young."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "try not to make too much noise with those dreams of yours."

"No promises, sweetheart," he said as he sat up, reaching into his bag and retrieving two cans of beans. He tossed one to me along with a bottle of water. We sat in silence as we ate. Once we finished, we put our cans on the floor.

Negan lounged back on the larger couch one more time. He crossed his ankles and fluffed the cushion behind his head, folding his arms on his chest afterwards. "Goodnight, sugar."

"Goodnight, Negan." I laid on my back and went to sleep.