#'christ standish was right' well YES!!!

[thebeigelunatics]

SLOW HORSES (2022 — ) 🐴✨

#JUST WORK HUSBAND THINGS

[janeofcakes]

Chapter 64

(The next two weeks bring the funerals of both Harry and Standish. John takes the first week away from the surgery and goes back for the second, wanting nothing more than to make his life normal again. He has been quiet at home, which has worried Sherlock on more than one occasion. Each night after dinner, Sherlock finds John on the sofa staring blankly at the telly. He wasn’t sure what to do the first night it happened. He stood awkwardly just inside the room, trying to decide what to say or whether to say anything at all.

Without too much hesitation, he strode to the sofa and knelt before his doctor. John’s far away eyes had focused on him right away. He just looked at the detective’s face sadly and then whispered, “I can’t believe she’s gone.” Sherlock drew the smaller man into his arms and there they remained until John pulled back and motioned for Sherlock to join him on the sofa. He didn’t need to be asked twice. As soon as he sat, John snuggled up against him. They spent the night, and each one since then, just like that.

This night is no different, except John is far more conversational over dinner. Sherlock finds himself so excited to simply chat with John that he very willingly babbles incessantly on any subject he can think of, or that John thinks of. After everything has been cleaned up and put away, he walks into the sitting room with a big smile on his face. John turns his head and gives him a little smile from where he sits on the sofa. Sherlock trots over and takes his place next to him, tamping down the urge to kiss those beautiful lips that haven’t smiled so freely as this evening in the last fourteen days.

As soon as Sherlock is next to him, John lays his head in the man’s lap comfortably. Seeing the look of surprise on his angular face, John smiles up at him shyly.)

J: Okay?

S: (smiling back) Perfect.

(They watch an episode of The Office in silence with only their giggles and the show’s dialog filling the air around them. Sherlock knows he shouldn’t enjoy the sitcom. Like Mycroft, he should find it absolutely tedious, but he can’t help liking the quiet bloke. There is something cute and charming about him, and he also bears a striking resemblance to John. In spite of that, Sherlock knows full well he would watch even if the character didn’t exist. There is something so precious and unguarded about John when he chortles and outright laughs at the office antics. Sherlock marvels as he looks down into John’s face. He could stay here for days just watching John laugh.

Shortly after the next program begins, another in syndication, something cute with Dame Judi Dench and Geoffrey Palmer, John looks up at Sherlock with soft, soulful eyes.)

J: I’m sorry about the last couple weeks. I’ve been...

S: Grieving. (They share a look.) I understand, John. You were very fond of your sister, in spite of the circumstances of your relationship. You may have as much time as you need.

J: (the corners of his mouth turning up) Thanks.

(He picks up Sherlock’s hand and kisses his palm. Holding it to his chest, he turns his head back to the telly. Sherlock begins to stroke his flatmate’s hair. He watches carefully, allowing himself to deduce John and yet, trying not to invade his privacy. A level of respect he grants John alone.

John continues to look at the telly, but Sherlock can tell he is no longer watching, his mind on other matters entirely. Sherlock knows the oncoming question even before John voices it.)

J: You said she’d been tortured.

(He looks up at Sherlock again, his face open. They have not spoken of it since that first day and even then, to a very limited extent. Sherlock could see plainly that John hadn’t wanted to talk, or even to know. He was more than happy to give John the time he needed.)

S: Yes. They both had.

J: By the same person.

S: Yes.

J: Why?

S: I believe to obtain information about you.

(John’s eyes widen. Sherlock continues to stroke his blonde locks, knowing his deductions will be painful for John to hear, but also knowing he wants the truth and is ready to hear it.)

J: Me?

S: They have no other connection. The killer wanted something from them. Something they would not give up easily. A friend. A brother.

J: (expression hardening) Jim. You think it was Jim, don’t you?

S: (carefully) I cannot rule out that possibility.

J: (with a spike of anger and a warning tone) Sherlock.

S: Yes.

(The silence is deafening. They study one another intently. John releases the breath he was holding.)

J: Christ.

S: I could be wrong.

J: You’re never wrong. (scrubbing his hands over his face)

S: I was wrong about you. (John lets his hands drop on his own chest and stares unabashedly at his flatmate.) About us. I thought we should ignore our feelings and not risk our friendship. You know how wrong I was about that.

J: (eyes softening) But who else would do it?

S: I can’t tell you that. We haven’t the evidence.

J: Which makes it even more likely to be him. He can cover his tracks.

S: Indeed. (He slides his fingers from John’s hair and cups his cheek.) I will find their killer. And I will protect you. I promise you.

J: I know you will. (He smiles and touches his warm hand to Sherlock’s face.) Thank you.

(He pulls Sherlock downward gently. His flatmate complies and bends to press their lips together. When they part, John turns into Sherlock’s belly and wraps his arms around him, snuffling into his shirt. Sherlock holds him close and they both listen quietly as Dench and Palmer attempt to outwit the nosy sister-in-law.)

*                       *                         *

(Another week goes by without any clear evidence or progress in the case, which only furthers Sherlock and John’s suspicions that Moriarty is responsible. However, with little else they can do, the two carry on with the Work and work at the surgery, and with their relationship. Their normal comes to them again so quickly and easily - conversation, affection, simple everyday touches, holding one another through the night.

Yet another week passes. John and Sherlock fall asleep in each other’s arms on a Thursday night, but only after a spectacular snogging session. The first in weeks and not a moment too soon for either man. There had been no distance between them since the deaths. John merely needed space and time to work through the loss of his friend and sister, and Sherlock freely gave him what he needed. But both find themselves craving heated kisses and desperate touches once again.)

(John opens his eyes slowly to see a pair of gorgeous silver eyes sparkling back at him in the morning sun that pours into their bedroom. He is on his side facing Sherlock, who has propped himself up on an elbow and is watching him wistfully. John blinks a few times and grins at his flatmate. Sherlock’s mouth quirks up and he has that look on his face again. John raises a brow, giving him a stern look.)

J: Don’t say adorable.

S: (slyly) I cannot tell a lie.

J: (narrowing his eyes) I don’t believe that for a moment.

(Sherlock laughs and leans forward to kiss John lightly on his cute, little, pointed nose. He keeps that description to himself, smiling wide against John’s lips.)

S: I’m pleased to see you are wearing my favorite pajamas.

J: I’m not wearing pajamas.

(Sherlock nips at his lower lip and then sucks it into his mouth. John moans quietly, making the detective’s cock twitch. He bites lightly on that delectable lower lip and lets it loose.)

S: (growling) As I said, my favorite.

(Their mouths press together hungrily. Their hands begin to roam somewhat restlessly. When John’s fingers finally stop tracing around Sherlock’s well-defined muscles, one hand is on his chest and the other on a pert bum cheek. Sherlock’s are low around John’s waist. John rolls onto his back, pulling Sherlock with him, not unlike the last time they were in such an embrace. Sherlock’s eyes snap open at the memory and he pulls back to study his flatmate cautiously.)

S: (in a warning tone) John...

J: I know. I’m sorry about last time, but I’m ready now. And I have an idea. (licking his lips) Something that shouldn’t trigger any memories. If you’re willing to try.

(Sherlock fixes him with a steady gaze.)

S: I will always trust you, John.

J: (very seriously) That may be your undoing, but thank you. It means a lot to me.

(Sherlock smiles and blinks slowly. He glides his long fingers up and down the sides of John’s chest and belly. The man shivers under his touch and smiles up at him almost shyly. He tips his chin up to capture Sherlock’s lips with his own. Tilting his head, their mouths slot together perfectly, deepening the kiss. John opens his mouth slowly and touches Sherlock’s lips with the tip of his tongue, lightly and smoothly. The detective sighs contentedly and allows his own lips to open. John dives in without hesitation.)

(After a luxurious snog, their hands roaming every inch of the other’s body, John pauses to look Sherlock in the eye. Without a word, he reaches overhead and comes back with a small bottle of lube. He squirts some onto his own fingers and looks at Sherlock hesitantly. The detective returns a questioning expression and then understanding dawns. He wets his lips and angles his body to allow John easier access. When those slick, compact fingers touch him, Sherlock’s eyes flutter shut and a low sigh escapes his lips. He must spend his life with this man. Every molecule in his body cries out in undying love for John Watson.

Sherlock’s mind continues to wander and float through pure bliss until the feeling of those fingers disappears. He opens his eyes and grumbles in protest. John chuckles and puts his hands on the man’s narrow hips. He pauses as if waiting for permission. Sherlock gives him a single nod and starts raising his hips, but still can’t keep from giving John a worried look when the doctor starts to bring Sherlock down on his own cock.)

S: I’m not sure this is wise.

J: (shaking his head and looking hopeful) He never tried anything like this. I think it’ll be okay. Please. All we can do is try. Some day I’ll be okay.

(Sherlock considers John’s words tentatively. He knows he can’t refuse the beautiful man beneath him, but doesn’t want to rush John into anything. He studies John carefully once again. He sees hope, love, want, slight nervousness, that stubborn spirit he so admires. Sherlock makes up his mind. If John wants to try, if he is willing to put his trust in Sherlock, then Sherlock will do the same for him.)

S: (quietly, sincerely) I’m with you no matter what. We’re in this together. If you have any doubts, if you feel any pain, just tell me and we’ll stop.

(John searches Sherlock’s face and seems to draw more strength and certainty from him.)

J: I will.

(They both nod and John lowers Sherlock down slowly, deeper and deeper until he is fully seated on John. After a moment to adjust to the feeling, Sherlock sighs and begins rocking on John’s hips. John keeps his hands on the crease at the top of Sherlock’s thighs, helping his lover establish a steady pace. He begins thrusting upward in rhythm, even raising his back off the bed, meeting each inward stroke and pressing further into Sherlock.

Sherlock pushes John to the bed again with intense kisses, moving faster as they devour one another. Closing his eyes and slamming his head into the pillows, John knows he’s already close and tries his best to think of some distraction that will make it last longer.)

J: (whispering urgently) God, Sherlock. Oh, fuck.

(John’s body tenses and lurches up against Sherlock as he comes inside him. They ride it out and begin kissing again at a fever pitch. Somewhere in the middle of it, John swiftly pushes Sherlock onto his back and straddles his hips. He attacks his mouth and snogs him to within an inch of his senses. Then he moves to Sherlock’s long, pale column of neck, nipping and licking hungrily.)

(All Sherlock can do is gasp and claw at John’s shoulders, his rock-hard biceps. Soon John moves down to Sherlock’s bare chest, his teeth scraping against a nipple. Sherlock’s whole body shudders with pleasure, his fingers running through blonde hair. John kisses and sucks his way down Sherlock’s belly, and then takes him in his mouth with reckless abandon. Sherlock inhales sharply while every muscle in his body tenses. His fingers stroke at John’s soft hair. He’s so close. So very close. And John knows it. He hollows his cheeks, moving slowly up and down Sherlock, licking with a luxurious tongue. Sherlock tries desperately not to thrash around wildly beneath his insistent doctor. His mind is blank, gloriously blank. He can think of nothing but John. His beautiful John Watson.

Suddenly, Sherlock’s body tightens into total stillness for a few seconds and then the orgasm crashes over him. He cries out, completely overcome. Fireworks explode in his brain. He gasps and pants until his body finally goes limp, sinking into the bed, boneless.)

(When Sherlock opens his eyes, John is crawling up his body to look into his blissed out face. With a smile, he kisses John affectionately and wraps his long fingers around John’s hipbones.)

J: Fuck me, that was gorgeous.

S: (with a playful smile) Really, John, that mouth. I can’t believe I just let you suck me off with it.

(John breaks up laughing. Sherlock watches him with soft eyes and a warm smile.)

S: I love when you laugh. It hasn’t happened as much lately.

J: (solemnly) I know. I want everything to be normal again too. Well, normal for us.

S: We are well on our way, John. (carding his hand through John’s hair) Things may not go back to exactly the way they were, but we’ll find a new normal. We’ll be fine. Trust me.

J: I do.

(Sherlock can’t help but shiver at the words and leans in to kiss John full on the mouth with all the feeling he can muster.)

J: Mmmm... (smiling broadly) We could give ourselves a few minutes and give it another go.

(Sherlock opens his mouth to respond, but doesn’t get the chance.)

Mrs. H: Boys! Are you awake? You have a special visitor. I’m just putting the kettle on.

J: Damn.

S: (smirking) We had best get up before she comes to fetch us.

J: Oh, god, you’re right. Hurry.

(Sherlock kisses him thoroughly one last time before letting him go. John grins and pulls his flatmate from the bed.)

(They walk into dining area, both cleaned up and completely dressed, looking fresh for the morning. Sherlock stops dead at the sight of his brother.)

S: THIS is our special guest??

M: A pleasure, as always, Sherlock. (giving John a nod) John.

J: Mycroft.

(Mrs. Hudson bustles in with a pot and mugs.)

Mrs. H: Oh, Sherlock, really! (placing it all on the table) It’s his first visit since he was shot. So good to see you again, dear.

M: (with a wry smile) Likewise.

S: We should’ve stayed in bed.

Mrs. H: Oh, Sherlock!

(She gives him a sharp look and he glares back. Meanwhile, John has poured himself and Mycroft a cuppa. He gestures to one of the chairs. Mycroft gives a slight bow and sits. Narrowing her eyes and feeling she has made her point, Mrs. Hudson starts down the hall to leave the flat.)

J: Ta, Mrs. Hudson.

Mrs. H: You’re welcome, dear, but remember... I’m not your housekeeper.

(The door to the flat closes. John looks from the nonchalant Mycroft to the seething Sherlock. He sips his tea and briefly wonders why the elder’s mere presence offends Sherlock so. Then all the history starts creeping to the forefront of his mind and he just sips again, eyes shifting from one man to the other.)

J: Well, what is it, Mycroft? (breaking the silence and becoming the focus of both men) You never come here without a reason. Is it a case?

S: If it is, I’m rather busy at the moment. The Yard’s finest are out of their depth once again.

M: I’m quite sure they are. (He puts his mug on the table.) As it happens, Sherlock, I am here as a courtesy to you.

S: (incredulously) A courtesy??

M: (looking at John) To both of you.

S: When have you ever...

J: (holding up a hand) Hang on, hang on. Let’s hear what he has to say, shall we? Then we’ll decide whether or not to stone him.

(Sherlock crosses his arms petulantly while John rolls his eyes and focuses on Mycroft, who has an undeniably charmed grin on his face.)

J: You were saying.

M: You are a treasure, John Watson. (glancing at Sherlock with satisfaction and undisguised amusement) I have never before met anyone who could silence my little brother so quickly. 

(John stifles a laugh while Sherlock steps forward impatiently.)

S: Your point, Mycroft, I suggest you get to it quickly.

M: James Moriarty is in England.

J: (leaping to his feet) WHAT?! Where is he? In London?

M: No. We found a trail in Cornwall. Seems he arrived yesterday. Don’t concern yourself. We will find him.

S: Forgive me, Mycroft, but the fools in your employ do not inspire my confidence.

M: Be that as it may, they are very effective.

S: They are the ones who lost him the first time.

M: (ignoring him) We’ve traced him to a specific area of Cornwall through his texts and phone calls to John.

J: You have a trace on my mobile? (silence) When the bloody hell were you going to tell me??

(They both give him a look that says ‘Don’t be an idiot’. John straightens and smooths down his shirt angrily, just so he has something to do with his hands.)

J: Right. Right. What was I thinking? Of course you do. Why tell me? That would be too fucking considerate.

(He stomps off. Both Holmeses watch him go and then return their attention to the matter at hand.)

S: You’ve no indication that he has been anywhere near London?

M: None. Obviously, we are tracking his movements carefully.

S: (snidely) Obviously.

M: (cocking a brow and scowling) I will alert you if anything changes.

S: See that you do. He cannot get to John again. I will not allow it!

M: I know what he means to you, Sherlock. Do give me some credit. (He pauses to cool his temper, letting a long breath out through his nose.) I will do everything in my power to protect him.

(Rather than respond, Sherlock ends the conversation with a sharp nod as John enters the room, still fuming. Sherlock turns to face his flatmate.)

S: Has he said anything about coming here for you? Something only you would understand?

J: (sarcastically) Are you really asking? Because I’d have thought you’d already know.

(Sherlock sighs and frowns mightily.)

J: (stubbornly) No. He’s promised to come back for me. Pretty blatantly, in fact, but not made it sound like the near future.

S: Do you believe him?

J: (pausing to give it real consideration) Yes. I’m sure he’ll be back, but he has other things to do right now.

S: (satisfied, he looks to Mycroft) I want to see where he’s been. I’m going to find out what he’s doing here.

*                       *                         *

(A few days later... John and Sherlock have just come from Mycroft’s office from which he was conspicuously absent, in spite of his extreme aversion to leg work. Sherlock immediately stalks into the kitchen, throwing off his coat and putting the kettle on, grumbling all the way. John watches after him with a small smile on his face.)

S: I don’t know where he could be. He never leaves his bloody office.

(John chuckles softly and shakes his head, turning toward the dining table only to stop dead. Sherlock’s voice reaches his ears, but John doesn’t hear him.)

S: Where the hell is he? He doesn’t do fieldwork.

(John doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. He has seen what is on the dining table. Before he can stop it, before he can even think, fear cuts through his heart like ice.)

S: The very idea of rising from his chair for anything more than going to his home or coming here to harangue us is inconceivable.

(He steps away from the counter and walks into the next room, still complaining.)

S: There’s something he’s not telling me. (He stops behind John and frowns. John’s shoulders are lightly trembling. His head hangs low, looking at something in his hands.) John? What is it?

J: (shaking his head) I was wrong. He’s coming.

S: (tilting his head, frowning) How do you know?

(Slowly, deliberately, with an expression of defeat, John turns to face his flatmate. He holds out a shiny, red apple so Sherlock can see the words I MISS U gauged out of its skin. Sherlock’s shoulders drop, his lips parting to release a quiet exhalation. His disheartened eyes lift from the apple to John’s face. His dark blue eyes are wide and shining.)

J: Why hasn’t Mycroft said something if he’s in London? (His voice is shaking and his eyes are beginning to fill, even as he defiantly blinks them back.) I want this to be over. I want it to end.

(Sherlock darts forward, closing the distance between them in two quick strides. He grasps John’s biceps with both hands and squares his shoulders. John’s slackening hand drops the apple. His eyes follow as he looks down, crestfallen. A tear drips down his cheek.)

S: John, look at me. He will not take you again. I won’t let him. He’ll kill me first.

 J: He would. Gladly.

S: No. He will interfere in our lives no longer. Both of us, and Lestrade, and Mycroft will do everything in our power to make sure he can’t hurt anyone again. (He pulls John into a close embrace. John suddenly feels safe and warm in Sherlock’s arms, even with the chill of Jim’s threat still in his veins.) Especially you. He will not hurt you again. I love you, John. More than words can ever express.

J: (clutching at Sherlock’s back and finding his voice again) I know, I know. I love you too, but...

S: No. (Sherlock pulls back to meet John’s eyes.) No buts. No doubts. We’ll protect you. I’ll protect you.

(John looks at him with soft eyes, tilting his head. He wets his lips and gives Sherlock a small smile.)

J: I believe you.

S: (in that dark, breathless tone) Trust me.

J: (whispering) I do.

(Once again, those two words send shivers down Sherlock’s spine. His imagination grasping for images unbidden of John standing before him in a dark suit, a flower on his lapel. Their fingers are laced together. A voice finishes asking John a quiet question and he smiles genuinely. I do.)

J: Sherlock? (The detective’s eyes focus again as that door in his mind palace snaps shut.) Are you all right?

S: Yes. Yes, of course. Let’s phone Lestrade and then see if we can find my wayward brother, shall we?

(Meanwhile... on a bridge overlooking a small stream.)

JM: Don’t look now. There’s a mad man behind you.

(Mycroft Holmes turns to face the sinister smile of James Moriarty. He glowers at the shorter man.)

M: James...so good to see you again.

JM: I’ll bet. (Mycroft continues to glare, but with a look of disinterest.) What do you want? I don’t have all day.

M: You will forget my brother AND Dr. Watson.

JM: (with a short laugh) Or what?

M: (raising an eyebrow) I will bring down your network. Your organization will crumble around you. You’ll be powerless. (He smiles wryly.) Can you do that, James? Live without power?

JM: (eyes narrowing) You’ll never do it.

M: Really? And why is that?

(Jim leans in close and whispers dangerously.)

JM: Because I will kill your “friend”. (A hideous smile comes over his face.) If you do even one thing to keep me from taking what’s mine, I’ll make it slow...and painful...and I’ll make you watch.

(Mycroft’s perpetual chill gives way to a split second of horror before reclaiming its typical indifference. The smile on Jim’s face widens. He looks very satisfied with himself as he steps back again.)

JM: I’m glad we understand each other. (He starts walking away, but stops to look back at the older man.) It’s a shame to be in love, isn’t it, Holmes?

(He walks away casually, laughing quietly to himself.)

(Mycroft watches after him, scowling. Only when Jim has disappeared from sight does Mycroft allow his shoulders to sag. He lets his head drop back and stares up at the sky, furious that he dropped his poker face.)

M: Damn.

*                            *                          *

(A week later, Greg summons the detective and his blogger to a video viewing room at New Scotland Yard.)

G: We found the assassin’s victim, an Abigail Smart, on a tube surveillance camera a few days before her death. I think you’ll find it interesting.

(They settle in and begin watching endless swarms of people walking through the Charing Cross station.)

G: There’s matching footage from about two months before her death as well. I have people looking back farther, and at other tube cameras.

S: (immediately irritated) You called us in here for this?

G: (defensive) You’re lucky we have anything. She’s not an easy woman to find.

S: The incompetence of your officers can hardly be blamed on her.

J: Sherlock!

G: She doesn’t want to be seen. I’m telling you, Sherlock, there’s more to Smart that meets the eye.

(The detective glares at the footage impatiently, punctuating his annoyance with a dismissive huff in Greg’s direction. John glances at his flatmate.)

J: We haven’t come up with anything either, Sherlock. (He glares at the smaller man.) You know as well as I do that Greg wouldn’t call us in without good reason.

S: I beg to differ.

G: (crossing his arms) Name one time.

S: We have come when bidden countless times to make statements for your pointless reports.

G: (unfolding his arms and straightening) That’s proper procedure.

S: It’s a waste of time.

(John sighs and watches the screen while the two men argue. Soon the figure of Abigail Smart walks briskly, but casually into the shot. She pauses to set down her case next to a kiosk, picks a brochure from the kiosk, and walks out of the shot. Sherlock, who had apparently been multi-tasking, pauses his side of the argument just long enough to take a breath and launch into a very different tyrade.)

S: You wanted us to come here for that?!

G: Sod off.

(Sherlock turns his back and stalks to the opposite wall for a good sulk while Greg stares daggers at his well-tailored form.)

J: (totally exasperated) Really, Sherlock? Really? We haven’t even seen the whole clip! (looking to Greg) I assume it gets more interesting?

G: (tearing his eyes from Sherlock and giving John a nod) It does.

(Greg starts watching the footage with John again while Sherlock huffs behind them. They watch a full minute as no one pays any heed to the abandoned case. John is just beginning to contemplate tube safety and the risk of explosives left in unattended cases when a familiar face appears on the screen. His eyes pop open wide, along with his mouth.)

J: HOLY SHIT! IT’S HARRY!

(Sherlock spins and takes his place between them again.)

S: What??

(They watch as Harriet Watson walks through the station, picks up the case rather expertly, and disappears from sight. Greg stops the recording and looks at them smugly.)

G: Now you know why I wanted you to see it.

[thran-duils]

Not Threatened

Title: Not Threatened (Fly the Coop, Part 3) Pairing: Reader/Negan, Reader/Tara Chambler Summary: Reader escapes with Sherry and decides to go find Rick and his group. Negan is not pleased he has lost two of his wives. Eventual Reader/Tara. Words: 1,087 Warnings: Language Author’s Notes: Tara coming in the next part! :)

Part 2 || Part 4 || Masterpost  || Fanfic masterpost

Rick had sat down with you and listened to what you wanted while he waited for Ezekiel to make a decision. You hadn’t caught what the decision was and you weren’t about to prod. You didn’t want to come off as nosy. That would be sloppy.

When you finished speaking, he sat back in his chair, silent. His eyes were scrutinizing, watching you closely. He didn’t seem to know what to make of you.

“Negan doesn’t seem like the type to give up something he’s lost easily,” Rick finally said. You waited for him to continue, thinking you knew where he was going with it. He looked at you pointedly. “Especially a woman. Two from what you’re telling me.” He had been going where you thought he was.

You agreed, “He is quite attached.”

“So, you can see why I would think it’s not safe to bring you back with us.”

You’d been expecting this. “Negan thinks I’m incompetent in protecting myself. He never saw me out on the road and he’s never seen me kill a walker. He’s gonna be looking for me – and Daryl and Sherry – for awhile and I wouldn’t be surprised if he looks back to your home. But, he’ll eventually think I got eaten by a walker when he can’t find me. He thinks I’m delicate. I played that part well.”

Rick looked like he was trying to not smile.

“How do we know you aren’t playing a part right now?” The woman, Michonne, behind Rick asked you. Her arms were crossed, off-standish.

Meeting her gaze, you vowed, “I don’t have to. I don’t feel threatened.”

She didn’t look convinced. Rick was hard to read, so you didn’t know what he was thinking.

“Bringing back both you and Daryl isn’t a smart idea.”

“I know what I’m asking of you –”

“I don’t think you do.”

Clearing your throat, you conceded, “Fine, I don’t know the extent of what I’m asking you. I can’t see the future. But, I can get a general gist of what a risk you would be taking in taking me in for a multitude of reasons. One being the safety of your group.”

Rick nodded, “Correct.”

You fell quiet and let him think again. He looked over his shoulder at Michonne, who merely peered down her nose at him, saying nothing. But you could tell they were communicating without speaking. Their eyes said enough. Rick turned his gaze back to you and said, “I have a feeling I shouldn’t turn you away. But, I need some time to think.”

That was better than you had hoped for considering how much he seemed to rely on Michonne’s opinion and she seemed to not trust you. With good reason, you had to admit. You couldn’t blame her. “Fair enough.”

Rick got up and told you, “I’ll let you know.”

<> <> <>

In the end, Rick had decided to keep you here at the Kingdom with Daryl, who was extremely reluctant. It made sense to you that Negan wouldn’t think to look here. And it seemed that the Saviors never came into the compound here, so it would be safer. Part of you thought Daryl was more pissed he was stuck at the same place as you again, even if it wasn’t the same. He had shot you an angry look and stormed off after his group had left.

Morgan was kind and offered to fully show you around and you accepted graciously.

<> <> <>

Simon walked up the stairs to Negan and Negan didn’t even have to ask him how it had gone by the look on Simon’s face. Negan rolled his eyes, sighing annoyed.

“None?”

“No.”

Negan swung Lucille angrily, letting off some steam. He threw his arms out, “Where the fuck could they have gone?”

“They might not even be together.”

Negan snorted loudly at this, “I highly doubt that. Daryl, yes. He could definitely take care of himself. You’ve seen the fucker fight. Sherry, maybe. She’s done it before with Dwighty-Boy. But Y/N? No.” Negan shook his head at Simon. “She’s with one of them or both of them. Daryl seems the type to take pity and help out people, so I doubt he would have left them. Especially when he encountered Y/N. She’s the one I’m most worried about.”

Simon looked thoughtful before saying, “They could’ve gone to another compound.”

“I highly doubt Gregory would take in one of Rick’s people. Ezekiel…” Negan paused, thinking. “Maybe. But, I don’t think so. Fucker is crazy. I don’t think Sherry would put up with that fucking shit for a moment.”

He shot Simon a look and asked, “Rick look nervous?”

“He never looks nervous.”

“I would have to disagree with that,” Negan pointed out. “Did you see him shitting his pants when I was going to make him cut off Carl’s fucking hand?”

Simon laughed, “Right. Well, he was actually quite cheeky. Telling me they would go out right then to find us some stuff. Sucking up.”

“He’s protecting his group,” Negan said. “I respect that. Swallowing his hate.”

“Didn’t seem to know that Daryl was missing,” Simon commented.

Negan pondered this before saying, “Maybe he really doesn’t know that he’s gone. And he doesn’t know where he’s at. I don’t fucking believe it for a goddamn second but maybe. But where the fucking fuck would that shithead have gone otherwise?”

Shrugging, Simon stated, “He might still be out there. Maybe he’s not a dumbass.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Negan looked deep in thought. He wiped his face and said, “But then that means that Y/N and Sherry might still be out there.” He shook his head, looking worried. “Christ.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Better fucking hope so,” Negan muttered under his breath.

Simon sighed before saying, “I gotta help them unload some shit.”

Waving him off, Negan said, “Go then.”

Simon left and Negan stared off across the field past the walkers up against the fence. He couldn’t keep wasting time and resources searching for them. But, he also was not going to put up with that kind of betrayal. He knew deep down Sherry had to have been the one to make the decision and she drug Y/N along.

His fingers stroked the locket in his pocket. He hadn’t taken it off his person since Dwight had brought it back.

He was actually worried. He vowed he wouldn’t be too hard on Y/N if they found her. Just that she came back.

~~~

Tags: @imamotherfuckingstar-lord, @klaineaholic