"WHAT'S ON THE MENU TODAY?"
I WROTE ANOTHER FIC WITH NEGAN
From the first moment you saw him, you knew you were going to fall.
It wasn't something you could control, because when the mind takes over the body and sets everything else aside, there's little you can do but succumb to that which has stolen your sanity.
Michonne had put you in charge of bringing him food, because she didn't even want to see him.
She knew she would have to confront him at some point, but she wasn't yet ready to look the man who had caused her so much pain in the face, so she sent you instead.
You knew nothing about him.
Everyone there said he was bad, that he couldn't be trusted, and that was the reason he was in that cell.
As you walked toward the cell with the food tray in your hands, you thought you had only a few seconds left to find out for yourself if the rumors were true.
You opened the door to the cell block with the key Michonne herself had given you and closed it behind you before heading toward the one at the very end of the right-hand corridor.
The man looked up when he saw you arrive, and without saying a word, you placed the tray on the floor and stood there with your arms crossed over your chest.
He simply observed you, his dark eyes resting on you attentively. "I've never seen you before," he chuckled, "and if I had, I think I would remember you." He added, "Who are you?"
“My name isn’t important,” you replied curtly, trying to maintain your composure. “What’s important is that you eat.”
A new, lopsided smile appeared on his lips, making you momentarily glance at them before returning your gaze to his face.
“Michonne sent you,” he said, not as a question, but as a firm statement. “She still doesn’t want to see me, and she sent you because…”
“To make sure you eat,” you finished for him. “She doesn’t want you to die before your time.”
“I see,” he murmured, looking at his plate. “What’s on the menu today?”
“You’ll find out if you eat it,” you replied, making him smile.
“Good answer,” he conceded. “But how do I know it’s not poisoned?”
You sighed loudly and picked up your spoon to bring some rice to your mouth.
He watched you as you chewed and swallowed, and when, after a few seconds, he saw you hadn't died, he picked up the plate and began to eat.
"I'll come back later to collect the tray," you replied. "For your sake, I hope it's empty."
"Stay," he blurted out suddenly, making your eyes widen in surprise.
"Why?" you asked. He wiped some sauce that had trickled from the corner of his mouth before answering.
"Well, because I'm locked in a cell that I probably won't get out of for the rest of my life, and I'd like to talk to someone, that's all."
"I have nothing to talk to you about," you murmured. "We don't even know each other."
"That's true! Why don't we start there?" “I’m Negan,” he asked playfully, “and you’re…” He raised his eyebrows and nodded at you, encouraging you to join the conversation.
“Y/N,” he repeated your name. “See? We’re making progress, little by little,” he murmured.
“No matter how nice you try to be, you’re not going to manipulate me into getting you out of there, you know that, right?” you blurted out. “That’s NOT going to happen.”
“Who said I intended to manipulate you?” he murmured, smiling. “I just want to talk, that’s all.”
“Okay,” you conceded, sitting down in the chair against one of the hallway walls. “What do you want to talk about?”
“How’s Judith?” "It's been a couple of weeks since she last came to talk to me," he said. "I miss our chats."
"Judith's fine," you replied. "She's been busy with some things lately."
"And what kind of 'things' are they?" “—he said, as he put a piece of rabbit in his mouth—
“Sentimental,” you blurted out. He chuckled softly.
“Those are the worst, yes sir,” he said. “I still remember when my heart was broken for the first time,” he continued. “I felt such a great pain in the center of my chest, I thought the world was going to end.” He shook his head. “It turns out the world DID end, and I’m still here,” he said. “That’s something I hadn’t planned on, BUT you do whatever it takes to survive.”
“Yes,” you affirmed, agreeing succinctly.
“Well, tell me more about the sentimental problems of the no-longer-so-little Judith Grimes,” he blurted.
“Why are you interested in knowing?” “—you questioned—
—Maybe I can help—he said, offering a smile that was meant to be charming, but ended up being mischievous—
—It’s not my place to tell you—you replied—if she wants, she’ll tell you herself the next time she comes to visit you.
—You protect your friends—he observed—that’s the first requirement for being a good person.
—What do you know about that?—you questioned—everyone says you’re bad.
—And what do you think, Y/N?—he whispered—Do you think so too?—he questioned—let me give you my opinion- he continued- "I think the reason Michonne has made you responsible for me isn't just because she can't stand the sight of me, but because, since you don't know me, you can't have a preconceived notion about me. Therefore, she's giving you the opportunity to think critically and form your own opinion based on the conversations we'll have over the next few weeks. Am I right, or am I wrong?"
“You’re not wrong,” you replied.
“Honesty” he added, “is another requirement of a good person.” “It’s a shame, I’d love to keep talking, but I’m finished,” he said, pushing the empty tray toward you. “You’ve done your job, you’ve fed the prisoner,” he said. “You can go now.”
“You don’t give the orders, Negan” you said. “Not anymore” you added, before he gave an amused smile.
“I have a feeling these next few weeks are going to be very interesting” he whispered, before you closed his cell door and left as quickly as you had arrived.
