Irresistible Danger

Supersize Me

Everyone in the kitchen was still frozen and watching as Negan announced that he had job for you. Staring at him in confusion for a few seconds before composing yourself, you asked, "What job would that be?"

"I need you to give me a full fucking inventory of the pantry for the upcoming supply run."

"Another one?" you blurted without thinking. Shit, woman, think before you speak!

Negan arched a brow and sharply commanded, "Did I ask for your fucking opinion?"

Shit. "No, not at all. Sorry," you stated meekly, staring down at the tiled floor. You had almost forgotten that the Negan in front of you was commander and all-powerful Negan, not the relaxed and joking Negan who you had played chess with yesterday.

A quiet voice piped up, "Mr. Negan, is there any way I can be of assistance to you, as well?" Trixie was standing to your left with her hip thrust out and a lock of hair from her pony tail twirled around her finger as she looked at Negan expectantly.

Slowly sliding his eyes over to her, Negan gave a gruff, "If I wanted your fucking assistance, I would've fucking asked you."

Turning back to you, he barked, "Let's get this show on the fucking road! You can't do a fucking inventory if you're just fucking standing there," he said with a wave of Lucille in the direction of the pantry.

Jumping into action, you grabbed a pen and paper out of a nearby drawer and led Negan across the large kitchen to the pantry while Trixie glared at your retreating backs. The pantry was basically like a huge walk-in closet that was set clear in the back of the kitchen. It had a cement floor that was filled with rows upon rows of wooden shelves which were packed with various foods. Walking over to the first row of shelves, you started scanning for missing sections of food and marking the items down on the paper. Negan followed behind you, silent and watching.

His silence was making you nervous, so you tried to engage him in conversation, "When are you leaving for the run?"

"Tonight," came the gruff reply.

You tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that his response caused. You knew supply runs were an important part of keeping the compound running, but your stupid subconscious was still sad that it meant Negan would be gone again.

"That's pretty soon. Are we running out of supplies already?" you casually asked, hoping that he wouldn't get annoyed with your interrogation. While he had automatically shut down any questions out in the kitchen, you got the sense that he was a little more relaxed now that you were out of sight of the others.

Staring at a shelf of canned corn in front of him, he replied, "I'm trying to keep Rick the Prick on his lily-white little toes, in case he's planning on fucking with me. Fucker won't expect another visit so soon, especially since we'll arrive at the ass crack of dawn. I figure we'll take more of his shit and give him something to fucking consider before he tries to fucking go up against yours truly."

"So why did you make it a point to ask me to do the inventory?" you wondered aloud.

"Because you're head of the fucking kitchen," he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were obvious. "Also because you come up with those weird ass recipes everyone seems to fucking like, so write down whatever ingredients you need extra of to keep the people fucking happy."

Negan hadn't been meeting your gaze at all during this entire exchange, instead focusing his attention on the shelves of food as if they were some intriguing riddle. His behavior seemed a little off, which gave you the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling you.