[ before the apocalypse ]
"just because you literally never throw up doesn't mean you have any given right to bully those whose organs come up every time they get motion sickness."
carl grimes crossed his arms over his chest with a sort of stubborn look, an expression moreso of hatred. his milky skin seemed to be more pale than usual, and the wind hitting his face as the window had been rolled down didn't come close to providing him any aid. the older man in the driver's seat snickered to himself.
"i can't help it, kid. you look like shit over there." he glanced over at carl, whose eyes were shut slightly due to a bump they'd just run over. nonetheless, negan managed to give carl some support when the palm of his large hand met with the boy's shoulder, his other hand steadying the wheel. he made sure the car was moving smoothly and that the window was down enough for the wind to run through carl's hair. there was a trash bin at carl's feet, just in case, as there had always been. negan knew him too well, and he didn't want his new truck dirty.
"we'll be home soon enough, carl." negan had never said his name unless he was worried or something was urgent, and the grimes boy knew when negan really cared. "we can get chick-fil-a," the man whispered, a small smile plastered on his lips. carl smiled along, his head leaning on negan's upper arm.