I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Stealing the covers

He gave a groan at this, grasping up his abandoned t-shirt from the floor, before tugging it over his head and snatching up Lucille from the couch as he went.

Blake propped herself up onto her elbows to watch him admiringly, his face set into a deep scowl at this most recent disturbance of their alone time, as he soon tugged open the door to Blake's room.

From her position on the bed, Blake could just about make out the blonde figure of Dwight, stood on the other side, looking a little sheepish, but even so, his head was held high and defiant.

"Negan," he said firmly. "Sorry to disturb you-"

Blake smiled to herself now, loving the fact that of course, Negan's men had known where to find him. God, were she and him really that predictable?

But Negan, his jaw clenched tightly, suddenly bashed the spiky end of his baseball bat against the open doorframe, causing Blake to wrinkle her nose at the harsh sound and shuffle back down under the covers once more.

"D," he said simply. "Whatever it is, I have got a hell of fuckin' hangover, and a super-hot girl in bed behind me. So unless it's life or fuckin' death right now, Dwight, it can goddamn wait."

But Dwight merely stayed standing where he was.

"Sir, we've got an orange situation..." uttered the blonde man bluntly. "Tony's gone. With his wife and kid, and they've taken six guns between them. Word from one of the outposts is, that they've been seen heading towards the Hilltop."

Even from the bed, at Dwight's words, Blake heard Negan give a dark growl under his breath.

"An' what? No one at the fuckin' outpost thought to fuckin' stop them?" barked the dark-haired Saviour angrily, suddenly bashing Lucille against the doorframe once more, causing the entire room to shudder. "Jesus fuckin' Christ! The shit I have to put up with sometimes, D."

Blake blinked a couple of times, watching as Negan dragged a hand over his chin, his mind obviously whirring away quickly.

He was very smart man, Blake had realised that from the first moment she had met him. He was calculating and unpredictable and that always put him one step ahead of everyone else. Always.

So it was strange to see him undermined and set on edge, by someone other than herself for once.

"Fine," he finally murmured out, running his hand over his dark hair until it landed on the back of his neck, as he closed his eyes, his pounding headache obvious for anyone to see now. "Normally I'd say that this was fuckin' grunt work, but this ain't the first time Tony has fucked up, and here's hopin' that a little fuckin' fresh air might clear this goddamn hangover of mine. So I'll come with. Lucille could do with a lil' run out anyway..."

Dwight shifted his weight from foot-to-foot.

"You want me to load up the trucks and get them ready to move out, Boss?" Dwight asked curtly.

But Negan gave dismissive nod, waving his hand easily.

"Yeah, load them up ready for move out in ten," he murmured, as Dwight almost instantly nodded back, turning promptly on his heel and heading off, without even another word.

Closing the door with a gentle snap again, Negan gave a long and carrying huff, as Blake looked his way, sitting up properly now and bringing her knees up to her chest beneath the white sheet.

"Trouble?" she asked in a warm voice, wanting nothing more right now, than for Negan to get back into bed with her now and spend the rest of the morning sleeping off their hangover together...perhaps enjoying a little of what they had missed out on last night to ease their sore heads.

But Negan, merely pressed his tongue to his back molars, before crossing the room, and to Blake's dismay, making for his abandoned boots and leather jacket.

"Mmmhmmm," he replied, a frown hovering between his brows now. "That asshole Tony's done this before, but what I don' want is ol' Gregory up at the Hilltop, or worse, your old-buddy Rick the fuckin' Prick, gettin' a hold of those guns. So fuck it, if I can't trust my men to sort this shit out for me, I'm gonna have to do it my fuckin' self now aren't I?"

But Blake gave a lick of her lips, as she stared up at the dark-haired man before her, eagerly, opening her mouth slowly to speak...

But before she could do so, Negan shot her an apologetic look, pointing Lucille in her direction playfully.

"Sorry, Sweetheart," he murmured. "Looks like that blow-job you owe me is gonna have to wait."

At this, Blake frowned slightly, a vague recollection of that promise coming back to her hazily.

But she quickly brushed his comment aside.

"Can I come with you?" she asked suddenly, blinking couple of times up at Negan, who stopped in his tracks, one arm already threaded through the sleeve of his jacket, as he stared her way.

She hadn't been out of the Sanctuary in almost two weeks now and perhaps Negan was right. Maybe a little fresh air would clear her hangover. Besides, it would be good to do something other than gardening for just one day.

But Negan pursed his lips now, looking a little stern.

"Hmmm, I ain't so sure, Darlin'," he uttered, eyeing her as he shrugged the rest of his jacket slowly onto his shoulders. "This ain't gonna be no field trip to the fuckin' Smithsonian. An' I don't want you in the line of fire on this one."

But Blake tilted her head to the side, her green eyes meeting with his chocolate ones, as butterflies swarmed inside her stomach.

It was obvious how much he cared for her...but even so, she bit down onto her lip and gave the smallest of sighs.

"Negan....we've been over this," she said in a gentle voice, knowing that this was what their argument back in the woods had been about. "You can't keep me cooped up here forever. And I can hold my own out there....you know I can."

But Negan gave a loud huff, frowning darkly.

She could tell he didn't want her going as she had told him, she wasn't one of his wives. and he couldn't just keep her here like a prize. That wasn't who she was. She had spent enough time out there, surviving...staying alive....she could handle this. Definitely.

"Peaches, this ain't up for fuckin' discussion..." said Negan warningly, but Blake just cut across him, slipping swiftly from the bed in just her underwear and padding across the room toward him now, bringing herself up to her full height and coming to step just in front of the dark-haired Saviour, jabbing him in the chest with her finger.

"No, Negan," she began firmly, shaking her head, her caramel-blonde hair trickling over her bare shoulders. "..it's not. Because I'm coming with you and that's final."

And with that, before he could retort, Blake had marched over to her open closet, tugging out a clean pair of black jeans and a tight black sweater before flinging them onto the bed.

She was coming with him and that was that.

She wasn't his wife and as 'friends', he really had no right to argue with her. She knew that. And by his silence, Negan did too.

But she paused, glancing over her shoulder now, hearing him strut towards her, Lucille now up on his shoulder and that frown still sat between his dark brows.

"Alright," he growled, raising his eyebrows and pointing down at her now, sternly. "But you ain't leavin' my goddamn sight, Sweetheart. We clear?"

And at this, Blake just smiled to herself, turning back around to fish out some clean underwear, knowing that she had won.

"We're clear," she murmured back, ignoring his unimpressed features on purpose, airily. "See you out at the trucks in ten then."

And she didn't have to turn around, hearing Negan give an irritable huff of annoyance, before he marched swiftly out of the door, slamming it loudly shut behind him....

..with Blake giving a smirk to herself. Her hangover feeling better already...