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Shelter from the Storm

Chapter 20

Notes:

So we've reached the end! I want to thank every single person who commented, bookmarked, left kudos, or even just read this. I'm really blown away by the response to this story; I never imagined having this many readers at once for anything I write. So thank you for reading and engaging with my work (and special shout-outs to the people who made fanvids and fanart for this!!!!!!!!!! *O*). You're all wonderful, intelligent people, and I'm lucky to have you as readers.

I have another Regan fic in mind that I /might/ get around to doing (if someone else doesn't do it first lol), so hopefully you'll stick around for that, or, if you liked my writing, delve into the other stories I have to offer. They're not TWD, but you might enjoy them if you just take 'em as original fiction (since almost everything I write is AU).

Here's the illustrations I did for this fic: http://farewelltokings.tumblr.com/post/158630710966

Thanks again!

Chapter Text

Rick's room at the facility has a sliding door that leads out to a small porch. There's a garden out back, and from the outside the place looks like a really nice motel. Inside is about the same. The linens have flower prints that remind Negan of visits to his grandmother's house. Rick's lying in the bed and talking with Eric, his physical therapist, when Negan enters the room.

Rick's mountain-man beard was shaved away two days ago, replaced by thick stubble. He looks good, healthy. Negan wonders if he should shave his own beard, decides against it for now.

"Hi, Negan," Eric greets him, always chipper, like he chugs three Red Bulls every day. "We were just chatting. I can leave you alone if you'd like."

"Do me a solid and show the kids where you keep the Jell-O," Negan says.

"Sure! C'mon, let's go." Eric leads Carl and Judith down the hall, leaving Rick and Negan alone to sort out the tangled mess of their lives together.

As Negan moves closer, Rick tilts his head. "I just noticed you never actually stand straight. You're always lilting," Rick says with a laugh.

"My animal magnetism just keeps pullin' me in all directions." It's dumb, but it makes Rick smile, and Negan is momentarily filled with hope that they can salvage things. He takes a deep breath and decides to just go for it. "I hate to pull the relationship talk card on you, but are we still... a thing? 'Cause I can't tell if you want me around anymore."

Rick's brow furrows like he doesn't understand the words in that order. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Well, one, you've been kinda distant. I get that you're coming back from some serious shit, but I don't feel like you're happy to see me. And two... that fucking dream, Rick. What the goddamn shit was that? You have a dream that I'm some bloodthirsty psycho and suddenly you don't want me around?"

"I thought it was real," Rick murmurs. "I swear. Until I saw Abraham and Glenn... Everyone says it was a dream, but I saw it. I felt it. I went through it. That's hard to shake."

"Well, your subconscious is a real son of a bitch. Casting me as a villain? The guy who bashes in your friends' skulls for shits and giggles? I know I can be selfish and vulgar and self-destructive and, okay, I did that one time, but, Christ, Rick, is that really what you think of me?"

If Rick knew about Negan's own dream he'd probably throw the same question back at him. But Negan's holding on pretty tightly to the interpretation that his dream was metaphorical—he doesn't actually think Rick will physically hurt him. And Rick's actions in the dreamscape weren't based off something Rick told Negan in confidence.

Rick looks hurt, and Negan immediately regrets his tirade. No one that beautiful should look this sad. "Negan... That's not... No, of course not."

"I took care of Carl and Judith for almost two months, spent at least an hour at your bedside every day, begging and pleading God for you to wake up. I was gonna raise your kids if somethin' happened to you, and the first thing you say to me after all that is you don't want me there? Do you have any idea what that feels like?" Negan makes himself stop. He's treading too close to 'be proud of me' territory. Rein that shit in.

Rick shakes his head in stunned shock. "I'm so sorry. I still thought it was real—that you were..."

"I don't care about that. I care about why you thought it up in the first place. There has to be a reason that's where your brain went when you thought of me. Why couldn't I have been good to you?"

"Negan, c'mon. You are good. You took care of Carl and Judith like they're your kids too. You did all that for me, for them. I'm proud of you."

The pain and joy from hearing this is delayed. It starts small, like a pinprick, then ripples outward.

"Don't say that to me if you don't mean it."

"I mean it. I can't control my dreams. But I know who you are. That's why I'm with you."

"Then how come you've barely fucking talked to me since you woke up? You won't even touch me."

"Well, come here and I will."

Negan does, and Rick reaches out for him, sliding his hands up Negan's arm. The warmth of his skin is almost too much, and Negan shivers.

"You were distant too," Rick reminds him.

"'Cause I thought you didn't want me anymore. I thought you were afraid of me."

"No." Rick squeezes Negan's hand in his own. "It has never been like that. Ever." He meets Negan's eyes with so much acceptance that Negan almost looks away. But he doesn't, just faces it head-on like he's staring into the sun. He feels like he might burn up. "Everything in that dream was fucked. It wasn't just you. Tara and Rosita weren't together. Hershel was dead. Sophia was dead. Carol and Morgan barely knew each other. Judith was Shane's daughter with Lori. Carl lost an eye."

So that's why Rick made the comment about Carl's eye when he woke up. Nice to have context.

"I think that's why it hurt so much, seein' you like that," Rick says. "'Cause that's not you."

"But you were still into me, right?"

Rick laughs, and the sound washes over Negan like a cleansing rain. "Nah, you haven't let me do that yet."

"Rick, you fuckin' tease." That's never been something Negan wanted before Rick.

Rick links his fingers with Negan's own. "I could've died without ever telling you I love you."

Negan feels weightless, his heart hovering somewhere in his throat. Rick loves him.

Rick loves him.

It's incomprehensible, impossible. But there it is.

Rick doesn't notice Negan's internal screaming. "I thought about that while I was bleeding out. I thought about you and Judith and Carl. And I never told you, and I didn't want to die without you knowing that."

Negan tries to say something, but his throat is too tight, and if he fights it the tears building behind his eyes will fall, and, no, he's not going to cry.

But this is the happiest goddamn day of his life, so Negan doesn't care that his eyes are leaking and Rick's watching him. "You fuckin' sap. Whatever happened to not falling in love with me?"

"You're hard to resist," Rick says with a shrug and a smile.

"Speaking of hard..." Negan jokes, but all he wants to do right now is hold Rick for a while.

So he does.


Epilogue...

A welcome-home party for Rick takes place the following weekend. The backyard of the Grimes house is packed with well-wishers from their cozy little town. Abraham mans the grill, chugging a frosty beer while he cooks hamburgers and hot dogs. There's a picnic table loaded with potato chips, condiments, buns, and finger sandwiches. Duane, Sophia, Carl, and Judith play in the backyard.

Inside, Tara and Sasha have turned the kitchen into a makeshift bar while they mix drinks and throw back shots. Rosita sits on the couch with Glenn and Maggie, cooing over the newborn Hershel. Beth is there too, helping Carol set the table with paper plates, pies, gooey dips, and chicken wings.

Rick, however, is outside on the front porch like he's trying to escape all the merriment. Negan finds him here and can't resist poking fun at him.

"There you are, party pooper." Negan shuts the screen door and takes the empty seat next to Rick. Rick's holding a martini glass of something fruity in his hand. "Can't stand all the warm wishes? And what's with the girly drink?"

"Tara made it for me. Who am I to say no?" Rick shrugs, taking a sip. "And I'd tell you I need a breather from so much attention, but somethin' tells me you wouldn't understand."

Negan chuckles. He settles into the chair and stretches out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. "Y'know what this place needs? A porch swing. Isn't it Georgia law that you have to have a porch swing?"

Rick laughs, and maybe he's only humoring Negan, but Negan's gone so long without hearing Rick's voice or his laugh that it's like ambrosia to him now. "Lori thought we should have one too."

"Great minds think alike, Rick," Negan says, tapping his temple. "I thought you didn't believe in coincidences."

Rick makes his confused thinking face. "I said that?"

"You bet your ass. During one of our very first conversations."

"How do you even remember that?"

"I got a great memory for little things."

"Guess I have to reintroduce you to my cock, then," Rick says casually, then sips at his drink like a motherfucking boss.

Negan snorts a laugh. "Hot damn! I love this new, flirty Rick Grimes."

"What about the old one?" Rick asks with a curious smile.

Negan sees where Rick's going with that, and he's going to follow it all the way down. "Him too. I love 'Blushing Virgin' Rick and 'Cranky Dad' Rick and all sorts of other Ricks we don't even know about yet. You're all of them, and I'm fuckin' crazy about you."

Rick is prone to blushing when presented with a sexual joke or situation, or, Negan's learning, when someone's open and honest with him. His cheeks flush pink, but he doesn't look away, because this isn't something he has to be embarrassed about.

"Feeling's mutual," Rick says. "'Bloodthirsty Psycho' Negan and 'Really In Touch With His Feelings' Negan are both fine in my book."

"As long as I can plow your ass like a pro, who's complaining, right?"

"Stop," Rick chuckles. He sets his glass down and covers Negan's arm with his hand. His fingers are damp and cold from condensation, but his touch still warms Negan like a fire from within. "I'm with you, okay? No matter what."

Negan wants so badly to believe this, but first he'll have to forgive Rick for the dream. It's not something he can issue like a certificate, and he'll have to keep forgiving Rick until it takes. But Rick isn't the type to allow himself to be miserable just to spare someone's feelings. He's headstrong and knows how to take control, and if he thought Negan was a threat to him or his kids he'd have taken him out by now.

Rick would lay down his life for his family. If push comes to shove, he'd lay down yours too. He saw this same quality in Negan and didn't shy away. Lucille had feared Negan's devotion; Rick held steadfast and said, "Me too."

The rumble of a motorcyle engine sounds in the distance, growing closer until the bike appears at the end of the street. The rider's wearing a leather jacket with embroidered wings on the back. He comes to a stop curbside of Rick's house.

"Another adoring fan," Negan says.

The rider dismounts the bike and takes off his helmet. He has long, greasy brown hair and a scowl that seems etched onto his face. He heads up the walkway. "Rick."

"Daryl?"

"Beth here?" Daryl asks, his boots thumping on the porch stairs.

"She's inside. I didn't think you'd come."

Daryl shrugs. "Glad you're not dead."

A touching sentiment.

Daryl's eyeing Negan like he's trying to figure out if he's seen him before.

Negan gives him a wide grin. "Hi, I'm Negan." This doesn't ring any bells for Daryl, but Negan didn't think it would anyway. "Currently doin' Rick."

Negan doesn't have to look at Rick to know he's blushing.

Daryl huffs a noise that might be a laugh before heading inside.

"Great conversationalist, ain't he?" Negan says, turning back to Rick, whose cheeks are still slightly flushed.

"Me and Shane arrested his brother." Like that's the only way Rick could explain their acquaintance.

"And he still came to your party?"

"He's currently doin' Beth," Rick says, mocking Negan's choice of words.

"Shit, you need GPS to follow the sex lives of this town." Negan steals a sip from Rick's drink. It's actually pretty good. "Wait, Beth? Really?" Rick nods. "Looks like you're not the only blue-eyed innocent to fall for a bad boy, huh?"

Rick smiles at him and takes back his glass.

Negan sighs, contented, but an errant worry has been gnawing at the back of his mind since Rick woke up. "Are we just not gonna talk about you goin' back to work?" Negan loves the domesticity of their lives together, of cooking dinner and reading to Judith and helping Carl with homework and being with the man he loves. And he wants it all to last, to never again be interrupted by tragedy or grief. He doesn't think that kind of steady comfort is compatible with Rick's line of work.

"Sick of me already?" Rick jokes, but he knows what Negan's asking. "I'm gonna take some time off to think things over. My gut tells me I should hang it up, but I don't know if that's a smart decision or one I'm making just 'cause I'm scared."

"As long as you're thinking about it. We'll figure something out. That's what we do."

Rick nods and moves to get up, but Negan stops him with gentle hands.

"Wait. Just sit with me a little while, okay?"

Rick seems to hear the thread of neediness in Negan's voice, because he settles back into his chair to sit with him. Negan reaches out and takes Rick's hand in his own. Their fingers entwine perfectly. Rick doesn't pull away or try to hide their interlocked hands. They sit there on the porch, watching the sun begin to set as long, gauzy fingers of clouds stretch out across the pinked sky.

Negan wants to melt into this moment and live in it forever. He knows deep in his soul that he belongs here with Rick and Carl and Judith and the open-hearted people in this town who have accepted him as their own.

He takes a deep breath of the lazy evening air and tries to make this moment last a little longer.