Chapter Text
It was that goddamned motherfucking cat.
For the last two weeks, two whole fucking weeks, Negan had been wondering what that smell was. It came and went, always seemed to be coming from somewhere new, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what the hell was causing it. At first the sickly smell of death had permeated through the dining hall and there had been some panic, people having thought that it was a person that had keeled over somewhere, or one of the dead had managed to amble in through the gates. In the end, it had turned out to be two-thirds of a squirrel carcass discovered in one of the air ducts.
Three days later, it was a chipmunk left to fester under a table in the rec room. Then another in the vents above the showers, and so on. For two fucking weeks. At some point along the line, between the third squirrel and the fucking rabbit that had wound up wedged in an impossibly high up gap between crates of medical supplies in the storage area, Negan caught on to the fact that these animals weren’t just randomly deciding to bite the big one all over the goddamned Sanctuary. Something was hunting them and leaving them lying around, half-eaten and stinking to high heaven.
And today, when he strode into his bedroom to find a dead bird in the middle of his neatly made bed and a scruffy-looking black cat licking itself clean of feathers, he realized he’d caught the culprit red-pawed.
He closed the door behind him quietly as to not startle it- he wasn’t sure what the hell to do now that he’d caught the little fucker, but he wasn’t about to just let it run right off and continue to leave animal corpses lying around for him to clean up.
There were small smears of blood on his nice gray comforter- annoying, he thought. “Those had better fucking come out with a good wash, you little hairball,” he muttered. “I fucking like that blanket.”
He edged toward the bed, not wanting it to run off- or, god forbid, start hissing and spitting. Turns out, he didn’t need to worry- as soon as he plunked down, the cat sidled right up to him, crawling into his lap with dirty paws and proceeding to climb right up his arm and wind around his shoulders like a furry little snake.
Negan glared, eyes narrowed at shiny green ones. “You’d better not scratch up my jacket, fucker.”
He got a friendly, soft meow in return.
Fucking cute. Dammit.
He’d always liked cats- Lucille had lovingly teased him about it before: big ‘ol tough guy, all bark and no bite, best friend to all the stray cats. They just seemed to find him, little scrawny wild things that lived in the woods behind their house.
“I don’t know why they’re always fucking coming to me,” he’d insisted over and over again.
“It’s because you keep fucking feeding them,” Lucille had laughed. And she hadn’t minded, not in the least. In fact, more than once, she’d suggested making the cats a permanent part of their family.
“They’ve tried to follow me into the car already. We could take them to the vet, get them fixed up. You know I love ‘em almost as much as you do, baby.”
Negan always turned her down when she suggested it. Had assloads of excuses, each more pathetic than the next: didn’t want to clean the litter box, didn’t want to get pay to them microchipped, didn’t want to deal with them scratching up furniture.
She saw right through it, he knew that. He’d used similarly weak arguments whenever they’d discussed that other thing that he didn’t like talking about.
He didn’t like getting attached, and he didn’t like begin responsible for the well-being of something so helpless. God knows he was never going to admit to that, though.
Funny how life worked. He’d spent his pre-apocalypse adulthood avoiding being responsible for another human life, and now he was responsible for so many that he sometimes lost count.
He wasn’t resentful, exactly. Not of the people. More of himself, for all those stupid fucking years he’d spent denying himself and Lucille something that they’d truly wanted together.
He looked at the cat, resting comfortably over his broad shoulders like a furry black scarf. Its tail twitched, swatting him in the face, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d have said the damn thing looked pleased with itself.
Fuck.
Negan grabbed the radio off of his belt, making a call down to Dwight. “Dwighty boy! Have someone get the fuck up here. Got another dead bird that needs dumping.” The cat rumbled a happy purr, like it knew what he was going to say next. Negan sighed deeply, resigned. “And bring me one of those fucking cans of cat food we use for the dipshit training center.”
For his generosity, he got swatted in the face with a tail again.
If any of the Saviors had something to say about their boss being followed around by a pint-size furball, nobody dared speak up. After a week, nobody glanced twice when he strolled in with the cat perched on his shoulder or padding along after him. Except possibly Simon, whom the cat seemed to hate with a singular passion.
“Fuck! Yeah, that’s about fucking right,” he’d muttered the first time he’d gone in to pet it and had received a swipe of claws in return. “Cats never did like me. I was always more of a gerbil man, myself.”
Amber and Frankie, on the other hand, adored the little guy. Negan counted that as a solid win- anything that got his girls excited and grinning was worth keeping around, in his book.
Plus, not that he was going to admit it, it was nice having something warm and alive nested up next to him at night, even if it was a six-pound sack of fur.
“It’s coming with us to Alexandria?” Simon asked warily, eyeing the cat with trepidation. “You sure, boss? What if it runs off?”
Negan snorted. “She’ll be fine. You scared she’s gonna try to give you a little shave again, Simon? Looks like you could use it, you’re getting a little bushy,” he teased, just to see Simon pout and comb at his prized mustache with his long fingers.
“It’s supposed to be. And no, I’m not scared of her. She’s just fucking-” he trailed off at Negan’s death glare. “She’s fucking great,” he grumbled. “I’m sure you having a kitten on your shoulder will scare the pants right off them. Let’s go.”
“Wouldn’t mind scaring the pants off of Rick…” Negan mused as Simon pulled out and onto the road, petting the cat in his lap thoughtfully.
Simon groaned again, deeply grieved by this turn in the conversation. “I know. Trust me, I know.”
“Bet he looks good without pants,” he continued. “You think you can do that for me, you little asshole?” he cooed at the cat. “Think you can help me get into Rick Grimes’ tight little pants?”
“I swear to Christ, if I have to spend the whole ride to Alexandria listening to you talk about Rick Grimes’ ass again, I’m going to fucking puke out the window. You described it in so much detail last week that I had trouble looking him in the eye after.”
Negan grinned. “As long as you fucking do it out the window, I don’t give a single shit, Simon.”
Negan took it as a sign of just how fucking well he’d whipped Alexandria into shape that he didn’t catch a single sidelong glance at the cat on his shoulder. Granted, he didn’t catch a lot of glances at all- most of the people here avoided his gaze like he would turn them to stone- or their head into mincemeat- if they looked at him the wrong way.
Yeah, he figured, that was probably fair. Not that he would ever kill someone over a stray look- he wasn’t that unreasonable. He’d probably give them shit about it until they dropped their gaze, though. He’d done as much to Rick before, that first week.
Careful how you’re lookin’ at me, Rick, he’d warned, both loving at hating the dangerous glare he’d been catching from the man. If he was being honest with himself, he fucking adored that little spark of rebellion in Rick’s blue eyes- it was anger and hate and something else, something ineffable that was so goddamned hot that it was very nearly distracting to be around. It made him restless, made him want to take the man by the hips and shove him up against the nearest wall, maybe get those legs wrapped around his waist and-
Distracting.
Not a problem, though, because the helpless, broken look in Rick’s eyes when Negan had made him drop his fiery gaze was also downright delicious.
Today, Negan was more than a little miffed that Rick wasn’t out front to greet him. He’d never outright told Rick that that was expected of him, but he’d felt it was unnecessary- Rick had always been there before, a ghost at his side, watchful and vigilant like he was making sure that Negan held up his end of the bargain and didn’t take too much. That lack of trust chafed him a little, but it had only been a couple months- Rick would see, in time, that he was a man of his word.
“Where’s Rick?” Negan chirped when spotted Carl seemingly filling in for Rick’s watchdog role. Carl, who was never one to hold back on the stink-eyes where Negan was concerned. This time was no different- the kid took one look at the can on his shoulder and gave him an impressively unimpressed glare.
“What the hell is that?”
Negan roared out a laugh, always amused by just how ballsy Rick’s kid was. “It’s a fucking cat, kid! I know the world went to shit when you were pretty young, but surely you still know your fucking animal shapes, right?”
“Why the hell is it on your shoulder?”
“Because she fucking likes it there. You got a goddamn problem with that?” he challenged, “And you never answered my fucking question: where’s your daddy?”
Carl’s good eye seemed to twitch every time Negan talked about Rick. Like he knew exactly what Negan's intentions were with Alexandria's leader. Negan reveled in it. “He’s at home. Judith woke up from her nap and he’s trying to put her back down.”
This was of interest to Negan- he loved Rick’s little girl, much to Rick and Carl’s horror. “Well, him not being here simply will not fucking do, kid. Take me to him.”
Carl’s eye narrowed. “I just told you that he’s busy, asshole.”
At that, Negan met Carl’s glare with one of his own. “And I told you to take me to him anyway. I fucking sound like I’m dicking around? Did I miss some fucking memo that says I’m gonna be takin’ orders from you, kid? Because I sure as shit don’t remember getting that.”
Carl breathed out heavily through his nose, reminding Negan of a bull ready to charge. He almost felt bad for goading him- almost, he liked the kid- but he wasn’t about to stand down because Carl decided to smartmouth him. “Fine,” Carl hissed through clenched teeth.
Negan’s grin returned. “Fucking great! Knew you’d come around, kid.”
He followed after Carl, a spring in his step. This was by far his favorite part of their weekly Alexandria pickups. Nothing better than getting to see a hot guy get flustered and flushed while you grinned down at him, and that was exactly what Negan got out of Rick with all his antagonizing.
Rick was never nearly as happy to see him, but that was just how shit went sometimes.
He strolled into Rick’s house and right up the stairs, making a beeline for Judith’s bedroom despite Carl’s snippy protests of he’s trying to get her to go back to sleep.
There was something about seeing Rick with Judith that made Negan’s heard melt in his chest- that sweet, unguarded parental adoration that was so pure, so selfless. That feeling of goddamn, this is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen usually lasted a few seconds before the feeling of jealousy crept in at the edges. He hated that right now, standing in the doorway and watching Rick rock Judith on his hip, his voice soft in a way that Negan knew was only because he didn’t know he was being watched. He hated that gut-deep feeling of jealousy and the knowledge that no matter what, he could never have that kind of tenderness, that kind of selfless love for a child of his own.
Not for the first time, he hated that cowardly man he’d been when he was younger. Lucille had deserved so much more than him, so many times over.
Judith noticed him first, her blue eyes going wide when she spotted him over Rick’s shoulder. She made a gurgly giggle that made Negan light up- only to realize that the smile she wore wasn’t for him. Rick turned, met him with a scowl, and Judith’s chubby arms reached out to Negan’s shoulder, to the kitten still perched there. Rick’s eyes fixated there too, confusion swimming.
“Why do you have a cat?” He asked, eyeing her warily.
“Because I fucking want to have a cat, Rick. You got a problem with that?”
Rick bit the inside of his lip, and if Negan didn’t know any better he would have sworn that the smaller man was suppressing a laugh. “It just sit like that all day? On your shoulder?”
“Sure does. She fucking loves me. And your litter girl seems to love her,” he nodded at the still-reaching Judith, and Rick pulled their girl a little closer to his chest.
“Can you take it out of here?” Negan’s eyes narrowed, and Rick scrambled to cover his rudeness. “I don’t want her to get scratched or bitten or something.”
“She doesn’t bite, and she won’t scratch anyone but Simon. C’mon, Rick. Let her play.”
Rick got this look sometimes when Negan talked- like he was being forced to swallow a mouthful of something sour, his face all pinched and strained. It never failed to make Negan want to tease the hell out of him. Which he was just about to do- when the cat leapt off of his shoulder and onto the floor, winding herself charmingly around Rick’s ankles, purring like a motorboat.
And, like absolute magic, Rick softened like butter, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his pretty lips. “Fine,” he muttered, lowering Judith onto the floor. “But if that cat so much as hisses at her-”
“Then I’m sure you’ll go full papa bear and kick her right out. Take a fucking pill, Rick. Relax. They’ll be fine.”
Rick’s eye twitched a little at being told to take a fucking pill, but he had the sense to let it pass. He settled down on the floor across from Judith, back to the nursery wall, and Negan followed suit, placing Lucille against the far wall. He was pleased when Rick didn’t shrug away from the closeness, letting their knees bump when Negan sat beside him. “So. That thing have a name?” he asked.
“Not really,” Negan shrugged. “Not an official one, at least. I’ve just been calling her asshole or little fucker. Shit like that.”
“Would’ve thought you’d have named her already. What with you namin’ that thing and all.” Rick gestured to Lucille.
“Lucille’s a special case,” Negan muttered, a little more wistfully that he’d intended. He could Feel Rick’s eyes on him then, his blue gaze curious and searching.
“What’s it mean?” Rick asked boldly. “Lucille. She somebody you knew?”
Negan watched as Judith giggled and patted at the cat playfully. “Yeah,” he said, surprising even himself with the admission. “She was.”
“Was she your daughter?” Rick asked quietly, his voice gentler than Negan had ever thought he’d hear it. Negan shorted, shaking his head.
“Nah. Never had kids. What the fuck made you think that?”
“I don’t know. You took an awful quick likin’ to Judith is all. It’s like you’re a different person when you’re around her.”
“Never had kids. I didn’t…I wanted them, but I didn’t.” He was quiet for a moment, contemplating if he should even say the rest of the words threatening to spill from him.
“They’re a lot of work,” Rick conceded.
“Lucille always wanted them, though,” Negan said quietly, and he felt Rick turn to him again. “Even when we first started dating. Not that we were fucking…fucking trying to get knocked up then or anything. It wasn’t like that. She was just…she was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, right from the fucking get-go. Told me on our first fucking date that she wanted marriage and kids, didn’t bat a goddamn eye about it.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“I told her that if she wanted all that on the first date, we probably should have gone somewhere other than the goddamn movie theater.” Negan smiled sadly at the memory, faded and worn at the edges as it was. Beside him, Rick made a soft sound that Negan realized after a moment was a laugh.
A fucking laugh. From Rick fucking Grimes. And he thought he’d given up on miracles a long time ago. He turned to Rick then, their shoulders pressing together, and met his eyes. For once, there wasn’t hate and disgust roiling there- there was something soft, and understanding.
“Good to know you used to care about someone. That you’re capable of it.”
Negan leaned in a little closer, enough that he could hear the hitch in Rick’s breathing when it quickened. “There’s a whole fucking lot more that I’m capable of than you know, Rick. You wait and see.”
Rick did it again- that almost-smile- and all Negan wanted to do was lean in a little further, close the gap between them and see what kind of look Rick would have if their lips met. He settled for the smile, though.
For now.
Carl stomped in then, taking in the scene- Rick and Negan leaning into each other on the floor, Judith playing with the cat- and scowled so hard it was a wonder that his jaw didn’t ache. “Your people are leaving, asshole,” he spat at Negan. “You can go now.”
Negan suppressed an annoyed grunt and pushed to his feet, collecting little fucker off the floor while Rick scooped up Judith, who seemed more worn out after tying to toddle around to keep up with the cat. He thought he heard Rick mutter something under his breath to Carl about watching his mouth, and he snorted.
“Well, I don’t know about you, Rick, but I think today’s been a real goddamn success.” He grinned impishly, one hand sliding down Rick’s shoulders to settle on the small of his back, just to see that adorable pink flush creep across his face.
“I, ah,” Rick muttered, dodging his eyes. “Next week.”
“Next week,” Negan agreed, looking Rick up and down once more before turning on his heels. Halfway down the stairs, Rick’s voice made him freeze.
“Negan. Next week, if you wanna…bring your cat again. To play with Judith, I mean…that would be alright. She seems to like her.”
Negan threw Rick a winsome smile over his shoulder. “Sounds like a nice little playdate, Rick.”