The Ruins Part 2 (Sequel to The Ruins)

Chapter 19

When Mal woke up the next morning, she was momentarily disoriented, not recognizing the room she was in. Her mind reeled in panic for a moment- Where the kids? AJ? Everyone? Where the hell am I?

It took a minute to come back fully to herself, remembering where she was. She flopped back against the pillows, allowing herself a moment to just enjoy the softness, the warmth and comfort of a real bed, of blankets and sheets and a mattress beneath her.

She thought back to last night, to Negan outside with her, how he'd been so kind to her. He ruminated on the gentle words, the offer to come to her if Mal ever woke up like that again, the feeling of lips on her forehead that had lingered long after they'd said their goodnights and parted ways.

She was ashamed to admit that she'd nearly asked Negan to stay with her then. In her moment of shaky weakness, she very much wanted to request that Negan keep her company until she fell back asleep, talk to her until she drifted out of consciousness like they'd done alone at night. She always slept so much better then.

As it was, she had replayed the memory of Negan's lips on her forehead and his surprisingly soft-spoken words in her head until she'd fallen asleep alone. And it seemed to work- she had slept much less fitfully, not waking up until just now. She rolled over in bed and checked Negan's watch. It was just past eight.

She rolled out of bed, padding barefoot down the hall to check on the kids and AJ- only to find her friends at the table, the kids on the floor playing truth or dare, Max sitting at the counter and Judith toddling around underfoot while Negan worked away over the stove.

A warm, sweet scent filled the kitchen, and Mal leaned over the counter to get a better look after greeting her friends and the kids. "Are those...pancakes?"

Negan swung around, artfully flipping a pancake in the skillet. "Sure as shit are, Mal! We've got blueberry and plain, which kind d'you want?"

"Language," Mal chided halfheartedly, still eyeing the pan hungrily, mouth watering. "And blueberry."

It was a strange and wonderful thing, eating blueberry pancakes in her- her!- kitchen with her friends and the children and Negan. It was very nearly normal.

She was still in the good mood that pancakes and domestic mornings provided while her friends were giving eye brow raising looks at Mal, wondering where she slept, and Mal avoided answering. while he was out on his morning patrol.

Before they were about to head out, Mal packed everything she needed in her pack, and chose to wear the jacket that Vix made. She left towards the second floor where Mal didn't want to go to, however, Mal thought about getting a hair cut. Cut some dead ends, and maybe thin it since it was so thick and heavy her neck sweats profoundly.

Knocking on the door, a large dark woman with golden brown skin, mixed of Asian and Arabian opened the door; a disgusted look glared at Mal. And Mal grinned, entering without permission.

"Hello, sluts," she said.

Catherine smiled. Mal liked her more than the other of Negan's wives. She was more sensible on keeping things to herself. She did it for points- sure she likes the pleasure, but isn't like an animal releasing their heat.

"I heard one of your ladies cut hair. Want a trim and maybe make this hair less thick." Mal suggested, looking at the cowering women. Sarah, the bleached white hair, left the room, avoiding eye contract with Mal because of the incident last year when she knocked her flat and tried to escape. She did deserve a good smack.

"I'm the hairstylist, names Danielle. You take a seat in there." She said.

"Alright, then." She settled herself in one of the chairs at the makeup table, and Danielle set to work on her hair, wetting it first using water from the kitchen sink and then snipping away with a sharp pair of scissors she'd run home quickly to get. Danielle chatted conversationally about the Saviors going off and- God, Mal could rip her ears off to be in peace- about Negan as some of the ladies were agreeing about something nasty about him, chunks of dark hair dusting the shoulders of Mal's jacket.