I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Stealing the covers

Blake gave a groan as a sharp pain sliced through her temples.

"Ughhh," she moaned out gently, blinking her eyes open, only to scrunch them tightly shut again, at the dull morning light, that was currently shining in through the large window at the far end of her room.

She shifted down under the covers, turning over and instantly feeling a warm body beside her, stirring slowly beneath the sheets.

"Holy fuckin' hell," came Negan's sudden grizzled voice, Blake hearing him drag a hand down his scratchy, bearded face. "I feel like shit."

But the caramel-blonde woman, giving another moan out, merely ignored him and nuzzled her face into her pillow.

She was in her room, she knew that much, but the events of the previous evening were still pretty fuzzy in her head....something about a cut up foot and stolen wine.

Blake couldn't even remember getting back to her room. But despite this, she was still happy that Negan had spent the night here with her.

She gave a huge stretch now, before letting out a difficult sigh and opening her bleary eyes.

It looked like early morning, but even so, the bright grey light was enough to make her pounding head feel about a million times worse.

And by the looks of the dark-haired man in bed beside her, he was fairing no better with his own hangover.

"Shit, I mean, I know I have said this a thousand fuckin' times," he groaned out. "But I am never fuckin' drinkin' again..."

Blake pursed her lip. If she had had the energy, she would have rolled her eyes, not believing for one second that Negan would ever give up drinking as long as he lived.

"I don't even remember going to sleep," she soon murmured, giving a small yawn now, as she glanced beneath the sheets at her half-naked from, clothed now, in just her lacy underwear. "Did we have sex last night?"

But Negan gave a gruff huff, smacking his bearded lips together and raising an eyebrow.

"Nope," he said matter-of-factly, tugging at the covers a little. "You had a goddamn gigglin' fit, an' in all honesty we were both probably too fuckin' wasted to have carried on with that shit anyway."

Blake gave a hum of almost-recognition, a bleary memory of uncontrollable laughter appearing in her clouded mind.

"Hmmm..." she murmured out, musing, just as Negan gave a loud growl of annoyance.

"Jesus, Sweetheart," he said in a loud, carrying voice, that caused Blake to wince in annoyance. "You wanna steal the goddamn covers a bit more?!"

But Blake tutted, relenting a little of the white sheet she was currently clutching over her body.

"Well, sooooOOoooorry!" she snapped back in a huffy voice. "It's not my fault you take up most of the bed."

But Negan's dark brows shot immediately up into his hairline as he offered Blake an incredulous look of utter disbelief at what she was saying.

"Me?!" she retorted. "I ain't the one who likes to spread out like a goddamn starfish when I sleep, Darlin'!"

Blake smirked a little but turned her head away trying to hide it from the dark-haired leader of the Saviours, not wanting him to know he had a good point, instead reaching up and grabbing an old bottle of water from her nightstand.

Was it wrong for there to be butterflies in her stomach right now?

Probably.

But even so, just the way that she and Negan knew one another and their habits so well now, made her happy.