control . negan

12; threats

"I'm getting dressed. You probably should too." She grabbed his plain white tee and tossed it onto his stomach, then made her way to the bathroom. It was a nice room, with shiny tiles, an almost untouched toilet, and shower despite the dust that sat atop it. She wanted nothing more than to take a hot, steamy shower, but she'd have to wait until she was back at the Sanctuary.

Making sure the door was locked, the slipped her tee shirt off, clipped her bra, and then put on the new black top. After getting her jeans on, she tucked her shirt into the waistband and slid on a pair of white socks.

Her hair was in her natural state, wavy and loose, falling just below her shoulders. She was happy with her appearance for once. She didn't look tired or stressed. The only thing bothering her was her prominent cheekbones and cadaverous stomach. Easily put, she was ecstatic to return to Alexandria where she wouldn't have to work her ass off for a meal.

She exited the bathroom to see Negan tiredly slipping a shirt over his mussed hair. His half glazed eyes followed her as she walked to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She stopped and tautened her brow. "What?"

"You stay by my side." He moved to the edge of the bed and swept his hair back with flattened hands. He was visibly tired but attempting to seem assertive. "Just because we slept together doesn't mean I fucking trust you yet."

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and placed her hands on her hips. She should have seen the commentary coming.

"Let's get one thing straight, Negan. We didn't sleep together. We slept in the same bed, which I only did because I felt bad for you. If you tell anyone we did either of those things, you'll regret it."

A crease formed between the man's brows. He had that ominous look, one she might have been scared of, had she been anyone else. "That a fucking threat?"

Giving a small shrug, she turned on her heels and reached for the knob. "Guess you'll have to find out."

The door she slammed behind her made even herself jump. Not until after she stood quietly in the Shining-like hallway, did she realize what she said to him. She threatened him.

That, he definitely would not take kindly to. Figuring she had at least ten minutes before he stormed out of there, leather-clad, wielding a barbaric weapon, she made her way toward the stairs and deemed it a problem for her future self.

The lobby was littered with disgruntled saviors waiting for their leader to wake up. Some were cleaning their guns, arrows, and the others were conversing, but there was a tacit uneasiness in the room. She'd made it worse by poking the bear, for sure.

Noah was leaned against the hotel front desk, picking at his fingernails. He wasn't with anybody so she decided to pass the time.

"Think the rooms come with a free breakfast?"

Noah looked up from his hands and twitched the corners of his lips. "I don't know," he said, tilting his head, "maybe. Oughta ask the front desk."

She peeked over his shoulder and pursed her lips. "Looks pretty dead to me."

"Heard they're serving hash browns and toast for breakfast, back at the Sanctuary," he said after a light hearted laugh.

It was better than the usual dry cereal the workers got. Negan's top men had luxuries even the newer saviors didn't have: egg sandwiches, bacon, the typical breakfast. They didn't have milk since it wasn't too easy to produce it, so the lower class workers were stuck with processed, probably expired cereals.