Work Text:
Before the Fall, Negan Smith had hardly even seen a gun drawn in real life, much less hear one go off. But that was more than a decade ago. Now he was being half dragged back to safety by a woman he didn't even know if he tolerated, and his ears were ringing like hell.
He winced as his bitch in bloody denim sat him down just inside the walls of an old apartment complex and snapped her fingers. He could see her mouth moving, but shook his head and squinted. She scowled, speaking slower, as if to a child, but he still couldn't hear anything. He raised his hand to stop her, but when he caught sight of his blood-soaked palm, he felt his body go cold.
"I think...I'm a little...dizzy."
~
When Negan woke up, he was lying in the infirmary and every part of his body hurt like a bitch. He tried to sit up, but a gentle hand pressed against his chest. He followed the arm up to the same woman from before, but she seemed almost worried about him.
"I'm fine."
"You aren't."
"And how the fuck would you know?"
She raised up a hand a foot from his face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
He rolled his eyes, shooting what he hoped was a glare her way. "I'm not a fuckin' kid."
"Then this should be easy for you," she shrugged, a smile starting to form.
He scowled, turning back to her hand for a full minute before shoving her hand away. "Fuck off."
She laughed brightly, leaning back in her chair. "Get some rest, you asshole. You can apologize to me for saving your life tomorrow."