Awake was not a word you would use to describe how you felt. You were more, drifting in and out of consciousness.
Your eyes opened, taking in Negan pacing in front of the bed. You were back in the upstairs bedroom as you were before.
How in the hell had he gotten you all the way upstairs?
Pain shot through your right side and you involuntarily released a groan.
Negan noticed you were somewhat awake and sank down to your eye level.
"Hey, you good princess? I tried patching you up a bit after I took care of that fucker. My stitching skills are not something to brag about though. How does it feel?" He seemed genuinely concerned, which you couldn't help but feel surprised about.
"Well, it feels like I got shot in the side." You groaned again, trying to sit up but Negan pushed you back down and shook his head.
"Whoa. Not so fast, darlin you took a mean hit and I'm surprised you didn't collapse from the force of it. You're stronger than I thought." His voice dripped with an emotion you couldn't quite place and it looked as if his eyes had softened toward you. His cussing had ceased to a bare minimum and this weird nice behavior was starting to become confusing.
"Am I still a bit delusional, or are you being exceptionally worried about me right now?" You slurred your words a bit, still making it clear you were in a drowsy state.
Negan sensed you weren't really right in your head and he stood, without responding, and walked out of the room.
~
The second time you woke, you were feeling a bit more level-headed and you were still alone in the room.
The door opened, not a second later and in walked the guy who had locked you in here earlier.
Dwit? Dwindle? Something weird like that.
"Karma's a bitch ain't it?" He set down a tray on the night stand next to you and stepped back, looking you over for a moment. You stared at him wordlessly until he realized you weren't going to grace him with a response, and he too, left.
Alone again, you decided to assess the damage and pulled up your blood stained shirt, forcing you to lean up and clench your teeth in pain.
Once your shirt was off, you stared at the mess that was the wound.
Negan wasn't bullshitting you, his stitching job was worse than if a 5-year-old had done it.
You sighed in discomfort, as you noticed that the bottom of your favorite bra had little splotches of blood on it.
"Fuck."
You looked up to see Negan standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, the other balancing Lucille on his shoulder.
Your eyes widened as it dawned on you that Negan was staring directly at your chest, a heated gaze making your body break out in goosebumps.
"Negan! What the fuck!" You shrieked, taking your shirt and covering your front, without putting it back on.
He cleared his throat and looked away, a hint of a blush forming on his cheeks.
Negan was fucking blushing.
The thought would have made you chuckle if your eyes hadn't focused on a certain bulging part of his body. He looked highly uncomfortable but neither of you said another word.
