Author's Note: First foray into fan fiction. Not sure what I am doing, but this won't leave my brain alone. I got this idea when I started thinking about how I would like to spend my days post-zombie apocalypse and the movie Blast from the Past kinda popped up in my mind. I'm not meant for roughing it.
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His scouts had found the seemingly abandoned house in the middle of nowhere a few days ago and swore up and down that they had seen a girl going in through an upstairs window. When they tried to climb the fence surrounding the property, they were shocked, literally, that the electricity still flowed through it. The short wall of burned walkers around the perimeter made a lot more sense though.
How the fuck was that fence still electrified?
Negan could see the house boarded up, a flat-roofed carport, and a large dilapidated barn but nothing to suggest any kind of inhabitants or fucking technology. This place looked like it had been abandoned long before the world turned to shit.
He had been hiding in the trees beyond the fenced-in yard. He hadn't seen any sign of life all day. Every now and then a walker would meander through. Lucille took care of them easily. He was about to give up for the day. He didn't want to be out at night especially when he could be balls deep in one of his wives and then tucked into his comfortable bed.
Well hot diggity dog. Those fucking morons were actually right.
He saw her. She climbed out the second-story window, lowering a basket on a pulley attached to the roof. The pale skin of her arms and face practically reflected the sunlight. Her long dark hair was in a ponytail. She scaled the lattice on the wall until she could easily jump to the ground. She grabbed the basket and seemingly without a care in the world walked to a cluster of trees. She scoured the ground and every now and then picked up something and dropped it in her basket.
When she was done scavenging in the dirt, he watched her climb back up, pull the now full basket up, and go back inside. He walked the perimeter of the fence and found what he was looking for. One tall tree with a branch overhanging the fence.
Stupid fuckers should have been trimming these branches.
Negan tied a rope to the end of his favorite weapon, Lucille, and the other end to his ankle. Up he climbed dragging his barbed wire baseball bat up with him. He sat on the branch and pulled Lucille up the rest of the way and tossed her over. He crawled to the edge of the branch and hung over the fence dropping to the ground on the other side rolling into the dirt.
Passing the barn and trees—pecans–she was picking pecans– he walked cautiously looking for traps and hidden dangers. He found none. Circling the house, all the doors and windows on the first floor were boarded up from the inside.
He climbed up to the roof and looked around Lucille resting on his shoulder. The barn roof was mostly gone. He could see the hay loft from here and wouldn't you fucking know, god damn solar panels. Hidden in plain sight if you could get high enough. Looking around he saw more on the carport roof.
Fucking hell. What do we have here?
He went over to the window. Locked. Using Lucille, he broke it easily enough. He entered into a bedroom. A thick layer of dust covering most things except a trail leading out the door. Out to the hallway, following the trail down the stairs, the place looked like it had been robbed or left in a hurry. Abruptly, the trail ended at a large armoire. Opening the doors, he saw coats and hats. He reached in and felt the back of the wardrobe. Pushing the wooden panel, he felt it give a little. He pushed harder and it opened to a set of stairs leading down.
What the fuck is this? Fucking Narnia?
Negan slowly and descended the stairs, Lucille ready for action. He was met with a door at the bottom. Slowly he turned the knob.
His eyes were blinded by the light as he stepped through the threshold. He was in some sort of living room. Couches, tv, shelves, knick-knacks, a few pictures. It was the perfect picture of domesticity. He heard a noise from the right and a door swung open.
She walked out. Her eyes widened as they stopped on him. Her mouth fell open. Before he could say anything her eyes rolled back and she fell backward, her head making a sickening crack as it hit the cement floor.
Fuck fuckitty fucking fuck. I do not have time for this shit.
Negan gathered her up and carried her to the couch. She was light and smelled like vanilla. Her hair looked darker in the artificial light. Her skin had a few freckles here and there. Long eyelashes rested on high cheekbones. Full lips. She was young. Really young. Late teens maybe early twenties. His eyes traveled down her body. He laughed. She was wearing ridiculous blue pajamas with hot pink unicorns and rainbows on them. Underneath those she probably had a smoking bod. She was petite....actually really short. He laid her down. She didn't even take up the entire length of the couch. She had rainbow-striped socks covering her tiny feet.
Looks like I found a new outpost and possibly, a new wife.
He left her on the couch to explore. Side tables, guns in the drawers. Under the coffee table, a knife was taped to the bottom. Cushions of the love seat, rifle.
Who the hell does she think she is? Annie fucking Oakley? Let's see what else I can find.
Room by room he searched. A master bedroom with a king-sized bed had an actual gun safe. Combination lock. Next, what looked to be her room, a queen bed with yet, another, gun in the nightstand. Kitchen well stocked with cans of food and dry goods. Even some food in the fridge. Closet with some ammo boxes but relatively empty and a lock on the inside. Probably a make-shift panic room. Bathroom with running water. He moved all the weapons to the closet, turned the lock, and closed the door.
Who the fuck builds an underground house with a decoy house? Who is she? How the fuck has she managed all of this?
He sat on the love seat leaning on his hand, fingers on his lips. Lucille leaning against the coffee table. The woman began to stir. Her eyes fluttered open and locked onto him. Green. The green found on a freshly mowed football field. Bright and crisp. She flipped over and tried to reach for the side table.
"Honey, I got all your hidden weapons."
She turned back around and hugged her knees to her chest. That's when she saw the menacing baseball bat. Tears immediately flooded her eyes and poured down her cheeks. The one time she forgot to lock the door. She was going to die. In her stupid unicorn jammies.
"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked her reddening eyes searching his face for any sign of his intentions.
"I'm not into hurting women," he replied.
"Are you going to rape me?" her voice trembled.
"Fuck no! That would fall under hurting women. That shit is so no cool," his harsh words making her flinch.
Relieved, she began to sob uncontrollably. "I thought I was the last one," she wept.
"Last one? On Earth? Not even close, doll. What's your name?" Negan asked.
She stared at him. The tears were starting to slow and she was taking deep broken breaths.
"Sweetheart, when I ask a question, I expect an answer." He said with a stern look.
"I'm sorry. I have... to remember... to talk out loud. It's been a while. Um...people called me Sunny," she said trying to regain some composure.
"Are you fucking serious? Your name is Sunny? That's fucking adorable." he raised his eyebrows and chuckled.
She glared, "No. I said people called me Sunny. I didn't say that was my name."
"Well, excuse the fuck out of me," he laughed," Are you going to tell me your real name?"
"No."
"No? Why the fuck not?"
"What's your name?"
"Me? I'm Negan." He leaned forward on his knees clicking his tongue to his teeth. God, he loved a hot woman with spirit. The chase was as addicting as the victory. And there was always victory. "Now, don't try to distract me, sweetheart. Why won't you tell me your name?"
"I just don't like it," she shrugged," What are you doing here? How did you find me?"
"My men saw you climbing into your house, got a nice fucking little shock from your fence, and I came to investigate. You should trim your branches if you don't want anyone visiting," he winked at her.
"Dead bodies can't climb trees so I wasn't all that concerned. You said 'your men.' Where are you from? How many of you are there?" she sat up straight wincing as she felt the knot on the back of her head.
"Nuh-uh. You're trying to distract me again," his dimples appeared with the curve of his grin, "Why don't you like your name?" he teased.
"I just don't like it. If this is the end of the world, I'd rather just forget it," Sunny tried to sound nonchalant but knew this was not going to end any time soon.
"Is it an ugly name? Bertha? Olga? Prudence? Agatha?" His smile widened. "Come on. Just tell me."
"No to all of the above. You won't guess it, and I won't tell you. Would you like some ice tea?" She stood and immediately regretted it. Dizziness planted her right back on her butt on the couch.
"You hit your head pretty hard, darlin'. You might have a concussion. Why don't I help you to the kitchen because some fucking ice tea sounds fan-fucking-tastic." He gently grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet.
"Do you always cuss so much?" Sunny took advantage of their proximity, as he put his arm around her, to look at the first person she'd seen in 2 years. He was tall. Much taller than her. Maybe over afoot. She only reached his chest. He was fit wearing a leather jacket and some sinfully tight jeans. She blushed, realizing this was the closest she'd been to a real man... ever. Ugh, he even smelled good. She felt a warmth spread in her abdomen.
Stop being desperate, Sunny. You've made it this long...you can keep going. You are a sex camel. You do not need to jump his bones. Why did I have to wear these jammies? Don't I have anything that doesn't look like I belong in kindergarten? Why do I even care? I have known him for minutes. Why are you thinking of any of this? I wonder if his stubble tickles. Oh my God, stop it.
He settled her on a stool in the kitchen, "Yes, I fucking do. Where are the glasses, sugar?"
Pulled from her inner thoughts, she pointed him to the right cabinet and watched as he made his way around the kitchen and brought her a glass of mint-flavored ice tea.
"My eyes are up here, doll. But I don't mind you looking. I am quite a fine fucking specimen." He smiled as her face turned beet red. "How old are you?"
"I turned 20 last month."
"You know the date?" Negan asked quickly.
"I even know what day of the week it is," she smiled, "calendar's over there. I have the next 10 years printed out."
Negan walked over and studied the calendar with all its little red dashes crossing off the days. It was the first time in forever that he felt the comfort of knowing when he was. It made him feel grounded in a way he hadn't expected. The things you take for granted.
"So, Sunny," he turned to face her, "this is a pretty fucking sweet setup. How the fuck did you find this place?"
"Um...I didn't find it. I lived here before. With my family. I grew up here."
"You grew up in an underground house?"
"Yes."
"Care to fucking elaborate, honey?"
"Do I have to?"
"Don't make me ask twice," his voice became stern.
"Fine. My parents, may they rest in peace, were crazy. Like, probably, certifiable. My dad was a doomsday prepper and my mom was an extreme couponer. Add in a winning lottery ticket and that's how you get this," she gestured at everything around her.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Your parents won the lottery and blew it on prepping for the apocalypse? Waste of fucking money!" he couldn't believe it.
"I do believe I said they were crazy. What would you have done?"
"Any god damned thing I wanted! Travel, yachts, extravagance, women. I would have fucking indulged in excessive ways. You were 18 when all this shit started going down. Why were you still here? Why hadn't you flown the nest?"
"I had a trust fund that I would've gotten at 21 so long as I remained in my parents' good graces. My sister took off at 18 and they cut her off. Never saw her again. I only had a few more years... I would've been able to do whatever I wanted. Go where ever I wanted. Now, I'm actually grateful they wanted to live like mole people. I've got food, water, and shelter. Even have a pretty good movie selection."
"These supplies ain't gonna last forever, doll. The fuck you going to do then?"
"I try not to let myself think about that." That was a lie. She thought about it all the time. She knew exactly what she would do. She knew it had to be through her brain so she wouldn't come back. But whether he knew it or not, she had years. She wasn't sure how much he had seen.
"Soooo, what do you have to eat here, Sunny?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like to stay for dinner?" her mom's years of hostess training kicking in, "I have some pasta I can make."
"Oh, I'm not just staying for dinner, sweetheart. You might have a concussion because I scared the shit out of you. I'm spending the night. Make sure you're ok. Least I can fucking do."
"Wait, what?" Holy shit. His royal hotness overnight. Calm down libido! There are a couple of bedrooms. He will probably be in Mom and Dad's and you will be in yours. I need to shave! No! Hairy legs will be your only link to sanity. When is the next time you will find a man as hot as that? He's old enough to be your dad! He could, definitely, be my Daddy. What does that even mean? Calm your tits and every other tingly body part!
The war inside her head mingled with images of smooth legs wrapped around his waist. Rough fingers and a soft mouth exploring her body. Seriously, how hard had she hit her head?
"That blush is very pretty. Whatcha thinking about, Sunny?" He leaned over the countertop until their noses almost touched. She lowered her head avoiding eye contact. She didn't want to know what she would find in his.
"Nothing," she managed to squeak. His hand gripped her chin gently forcing her to look up.
"I don't like liars, baby. Now, be a good girl, and tell me what turned those cheeks that delicious shade of pink." His gloved fingers stroked her jaw.
Sunny's eyes widened and bit her bottom lip. Desire and power. That's what she saw in his hazel eyes. Her stomach flipped. A slew of word vomit proceeded, "I can't remember. Concussion. Short-term memory loss. It's a thing. You can sleep in my parent's room. I'll get dinner started. Go watch a movie."
Negan's eyes narrowed, a slow creeping smile spread across his face. He maintained his closeness as he dropped his hand from her face, "I don't like taking orders from others either. We'll discuss sleeping arrangements after dinner, and I'll go watch a movie, but only because I want to, doll."
She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. His hand flexed. His dick twitched. He ran his fingers through his chin scruff, his mind delving into possibilities of what her sass could lead them to. She didn't know any better. A blank canvas. Unjaded by this world and what it has become. What people have become.
What I wouldn't give—no, not yet—but she could be what I've been looking for. If I play my cards right. I'll just have to wait and see.
He needed her to want it too.