Open Waters

by RanebowStitches, TastyTaboo

Summary:

Son of the resident lawman in Alexandria, Carlton Grimes — tired of his father not taking care of their pirate problem — boards the vessel The Lucille, and sets out about getting rid of her Captain, Negan Morgan. This is the story about how he fails, a blessing to all involved.

Notes:

R: This story was soooo fun to write! It’s the first roleplay of Tabs and I and we clicked so beautifully~ I played Negan and Dwight, and Tabs was the best Carl~
I really hope everyone enjoys this labor of love just as much as we do! 💜

We’ve also created a playlist for this fic, so you can listen as you read ;)
Open Waters On Spotify

Chapter 1

 

Carl doesn’t expect to survive.

When he sees The Lucille on the horizon he kisses his little sister’s head and flees their home before the nursemaid can usher him into the basement. The sun is low on the approach and he makes his way to the docks, using the fuss of the many fishermen trying to gather their bounty and escape to safety as his cover.

He has only packed one change of clothes in spite of his grim outlook, quite imagining he is about to die, but still holding out hope that he may escape to a shoreboat before the captain’s crew catches up with him. He tucks his dagger and short sword close to his chest and steps into one of the barrels on the longest dock that’s usually full of salt for curing the fish. It’s at least a quarter full, but he’s been sneaking his rations to Judy and Mom for a while and fits easily, pulling the lid overtop and peering through the cracks to wait.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

The sound of pounding feet on the wet dock is loud as it vibrates through the barrel. The pirate’s whoop and holler as they make their way into the town, intent on a full night of drunken mayhem, the same as it has been every other month since the dreaded ship first showed up.

It’s quiet on the dock once the crew is in the town. The distant revelry echoing throughout.

Carl isn’t fool enough to think that they’ve left no one to guard the massive ship. He slips his way on board under darkness as night begins to fall knowing that the crew seldom leaves before dawn. He has been on many a ship, his home being a docking town, and he knows the general layout as well as he knows his own hands.

He listens carefully when he finally makes it to what he suspects is the captain’s quarters, but no sound aside from the creek and groan of the ship escapes the room. The door comes open with a squeak that makes him wince, and he twirls into the room and pulls it back shut while still crouched as he takes the space in. It is most definitely the captain’s quarters, thankfully empty.

The bed is an alcove that houses a large window, attached to either wall so as to not slip in the roughness of the water. There is space beneath it, for storage likely but it seems dusty and unused. Carl slips under the bed and focuses on pitching his breath to the ebb and flow of the waves. His father is always boasting patience and Carl will put it into practice on this, his last night.

This time the wait is long.

Hours pass, the distant sounds of the pirates lost within the lapping of the waves against the boat. It’s melodic and repetitive, only broken by an occasional creak or cough by the pirates left aboard to watch over things. The night grows long and dark around him.

It is only when sun drips in through the windows that the ship becomes active again. Stumbling footsteps shake the deck as voices call out orders. Soon enough, the boat pitches gently and moves away from the dock, setting sail to who knows where.

Carl knows this venture will take him far from home, whether that be death or the waves is still unknown to him. He’s seaworthy enough that the shift in the waves doesn’t pull any nausea, and smart enough to plant his feet against the wall so that he doesn’t slide out from below the bed.

Only a bit longer now, he’s sure.

~

“Alright, men. Ease her out nice. I know you’ve all got full bellies of mead, but until we’re in open water with a breeze in our sails, no one sleeps.” There are grumbles from the deck, but Negan ignores them. They do this every time, so he knows they know the rules.

He watches the town of Alexandria fade in the distance as they pull out of the port, the townsfolk surely cursing his name. The thought makes him smile.

Once they’re out on clear water with a strong heading, Negan sends the worst of the crew below deck to sleep off their night. They’re no use to him staggering around anyway. Once everything looks in order, Negan pats his first mate on the back, giving him the command. His bed calls to him with a voice like a siren, and the ocean is calm enough for a relaxing nap.

The door creaks as it’s swung open and closed, lock clicking into place. It’s blessedly quieter in his cabin, though the smell of the salt water seeps in. Placing his hat on its hook, Negan makes his way to his desk. Maps and charts are neatly piled there, along with a little ceramic pot with a decorative metal lid riddled with holes. He’d picked it up in the East and has loved it since.

Lighting a cone of incense, Negan tucks it into the pot, watching the smoke rise through the holes in the lid. He breathes in deep and sighs, finally heading to his bed. His boots are the only thing he removes before flopping back onto his mattress and sheets, too worn to bother with anything else.

Heavy boots fall by the bed and Carl keeps himself from flinching at the weight of them hitting the floor but only just. He knows there is no reason to think the captain will look under the bed but he tenses against the far wall anyway, hand tightening around his dagger. The bed doesn’t so much as creek above him as the pirate climbs into it and settles on top.

A scent makes its way under the bed not long after the man stops shuffling over top of him. It’s smoky and warm, somehow it makes him have to clench his jaw to contain an instinctive yawn. Rather than letting himself be taunted by the call of sleep, Carl begins counting slowly.

At five hundred, the man sleeping in the bed above him is breathing deeply, and Carl is slow and careful as he inches out beneath the space. Most unfortunately, the pirate sleeps on the inside of the bed closest to his window meaning there’s a large gap of mattress that Carl must cross to kill him. He is thin and much shorter than the lanky pirate, but he still has enough mass to make the mattress dip, so he is careful and slow, keeping as much of his weight on his back foot as he can.

He holds his dagger firmly, lifting it over the captain’s throat. In spite of the fact that he’s never killed a man his blade does not shake as he lifts it. He only thinks it’s a real shame someone so handsome must die this night.

“Killing a man sleeping in his own bed is a mercy, you know?” The captain doesn’t even open his eyes as he speaks, his breaths still slow and deep as if in sleep. It’s obvious the danger of the dagger at his throat either means nothing to him or he has accepted his fate to die that day. “Bit cowardly too.” His lips twitch into a smirk.

Carl’s stomach drops to his feet, and he almost yanks the blade back. He keeps it level though, hovering right at the pirates throat.

“We’ll go with merciful,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound quite as young as he feels. He imagined he would be terrified, yet in this moment he is only anxious.

“Mercy isn’t what my crew will show you after they find me dead,” Negan says, finally cracking open his eyes to look at his assailant. What he sees must be the angel of death, because lord is the boy above him beautiful.

He’d be chewed to pieces by his crew in so many ways.

“Indulge a dead man. Tell me what your plan is after you kill me. You gonna take on my whole crew? Sail back to your town yourself?”

“I figured I’d die actually,” Carl says in a burst of honesty as those big brown eyes hit him with a force he’s never quite felt before. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. “Or if I was lucky, get to a shoreboat before someone found your corpse.”

He realizes, in the back of his mind, that assassinations probably have a lot less talking. He’s sure that he should have cut the captain open before he even opened his eyes and now the man has seen him which might be worse. It puts a target on his family.

Negan hums, studying the boy above him. He’s young, but not a child. Old enough to die, but young enough to not have to. He’s dressed from head to toes in frills and filigree, the clothes of wealth or power. Something about him tickles the back of Negan’s brain, like he’s seen him before but can’t quite remember where.

“Most of my crew is passed out drunk right now. You’d have a pretty good chance at nabbing a boat,” Negan says, gaze tracing over the curves of Carl’s face. “But, could you find your way back home?”

“I’m not unfamiliar with ships and sea,” Carl says evenly. He tries not to focus on the way the man is looking at him, he should be well good at that from avoiding betrothals and flirting marines.

He focuses on better things, keeping his dagger steady where it scrapes the hair at the captain's throat.

For a stint of time after he’d reached four-and-ten his uncle Shane had taken him on the marine vessel he ran and Carl had picked up more than enough to get himself at least near to Alexandria. Between a lawman father, a governess mother, and a marine- Carl is more than able to read a map and follow the stars if the ocean is kind enough to him.

“Yeah? Hell, kid. You ever thought about becoming a pirate? You’ve got the makings.” Negan grins, licking at his teeth. He swallows and feels the cold steel press into his throat, making him shiver. He doesn’t doubt that this boy will stab him, can see the bloodlust in his blue eyes. He knows he could overpower Carl easily, but there’s a thrill in being under his blade that Negan wants to milk as long as he can.

What little boy hasn’t thought about it? No rules, no expectations to marry well or live correctly. Just the open ocean, danger and adventure.

Carl presses, the sharpness of the blade nicking the captain’s skin slightly, redding a small patch of his salt and pepper hair. “I won’t be the reason my mother and sister have to hide in a basement hoping not to be raped.”

Negan winces, sucking in a breath as he feels the prick against his neck. He chuckles darkly and tilts his head back, exposing more of his throat to Carl. “I did always hate that part of the job,” he says. “I don’t encourage that kind of activity of my crew, but I can’t speak for others. Not that you’ll probably believe me or care what I have to say.”

“I don’t,” Carl says, but he finds that he does. With the pillaging that happens in Alexandria, and having met so many marines, it’s hard to remember pirates are just as human as the rest of them.

“I have to kill you, you know,” Carl tells the man. There’s really no other option at this point. The captain has seen his face, it would be all too easy to tell who his parents are, he looks far too like them.

“And to think I thought we were becoming friends,” Negan says with a smile. His fingers itch to reach up and touch the boy’s soft face and long hair. As it is, he shifts subtly, getting into a better position for quick movements. “You sure there’s nothing I can say, nothing I could do for you to change your mind? Money, mead, blowjob?”

Carl’s brows quirk against his will and he narrows his eyes. He hates how casual this man is, how he’s clearly not taking the threat of his death seriously.

“Do I look like I need any of those things?” He doesn’t mean to ask, and he certainly doesn’t know where the venom in his voice comes from. The idea of being paid in some way to not kill a pirate captain is almost laughable.

“I mean, what man doesn’t?” Negan shrugs, letting his eyes flick down towards Carl’s waist before back up to his face. He grins again, all teeth and debonair. “Promise not to bite?”

Catching the way the man’s eyes flick over him, Carl banishes the heat that curls in his stomach and sneers. “You’re disgusting. I have a knife to your windpipe, and you’re thinking about sex?”

“Is it a crime to want to die thinking about something that brings me joy? It’s the little things in life that bring the pleasure in death.” Negan shrugs again, the movement shifting his hand closer to the one holding the knife. “You said this was a mercy killing, and yet you deny me my thoughts. How cruel.”

Carl’s eyes snap to the hand nearest to his wrist and he shifts, curving the blade of his dagger under the captain’s jaw. He has to act soon, he can’t push fully onto the bed without lightening his hand to pin the pirate’s arm.

“Cruelty for cruelty’s sake is more your thing,” he says, swallowing. “You want to think of something happy, now’s the time.”

Negan chuckles. Oh, he likes this kid. It’s too bad one or both of them is about to die.

“Tell me your name,” Negan says, looking into those ocean blue eyes above him like he’s trying to see into the soul of the boy trying to kill him. All of his focus is on the teen, taking in every breath and twitch, calculating and reverent all at once.

Carlton is a silly name and he had hated it for a long time, shortened it as a kid and never looked back. He thinks of it now, thinks he’s about to kill this guy and then the crew is probably going to kill him as well.

“Carl,” he says, not because the pirate has commanded it of him but because it’s the honorable thing to do. His father is the honorable sort, would probably be disgusted with Carl right now, but his father isn’t here.

“Mm, Carl.” Negan tastes the name like it’s ambrosia so sweet on his tongue. “Thank you.”

He opens his mouth like he’s going to speak again, but instead Negan is moving faster than he ever has. His hands come up to grab Carl’s arms with a bruising strength, pushing and twisting Carl to get the knife away from his throat. He thinks he can feel pain bloom in his shoulder, but he ignores it as he pushes a foot against the wall of the alcove, using it as leverage to sit up and turn, tackling Carl off the side of the bed and onto the hard floor.

Carl shoves the dagger as soon as he is grabbed, but everything goes far too quickly after the pirate murmurs his name like it’s something special. His entire world tilts and shifts, the bruising hard grip on his arms faltering and tightening once more as they fall to the floor.

His leg twists painfully and he half lands on it when they slam into the rocking floor of the ship, forcing a sharp yelp from his throat. He shoves against the hold, twisting the dagger wherever it has shoved into the captain. The handle is wet in his hand with blood.

“Fuck,” Negan groans through clenched teeth, grappling for Carl’s wrist so he can tug his hand away from the knife lodged in his shoulder. He manages to get a handful of the ruffles peeking from Carl’s sleeve, tugging on them to yank his arm back and pin it to the floor.

Carl hisses and thrashes, kicking out viciously with his good leg at the captain’s knee. There’s blood all over his hand, dripping down the handle of his dagger still lodged in the larger man’s shoulder to disappear against the red cloth of his frock coat.

“Let me go!” he growls, shoving his body upwards against the man to dislodge him. He has to get off of his leg, he hadn’t felt anything snap but it radiates pain all the way down to his ankle.

Grunting as Carl thrashes, Negan has the advantage of height and weight on him, holding him down by body mass alone. His stabbed shoulder radiates pain, and he knows it won’t be long until his whole arm goes numb. He can see the blood oozing out of him, and he prays to God it didn’t hit anything vital.

“Settle down, kid!” Negan curses as Carl manages a hit to his knee. He shifts to get his knees on either side of Carl, squeezing hard against his hips.

“Let me go, you filthy criminal!” Carl yanks at his wrist where it’s pinned under the man’s hand, twisting until he can kick out with his bad leg, gasping in pain as he finally gets it out from beneath him.

He plants his feet, whimpering at the pain it sends shooting up his leg, and thrusts his hips upwards trying to knock the pirate off balance. He claws at the captain’s side with the hand pinned at the elbow but it doesn’t do much other than catch at fabric with the coat the man is still wearing.

“So you can stick your pretty knife somewhere else in me? Don’t think so,” Negan says with a pained laugh. He lets go of Carl’s elbow to grab the front of his coat near his throat, yanking him up and dropping him down so that his head hits the wood floor with a solid thunk.

Carl groans, reaching up with his now free hand to shove at the handle of the dagger. He snarls up at the man even as his vision goes wobbly.

“I’ll get my pretty teeth in you next!” He snaps his teeth at the pirate when he raises him to slam him against the ground again.

“Don’t make any promises you can’t keep,” Negan bites out. His shoulder is on fire as he drops Carl again, grabbing at his other hand to pin it back to the floor. In a different instance, he’d love to be in this position with a beautiful boy, but as it is, he’ll be lucky to make it out of this with both arms.

Carl feels woozy from his head smacking the ground multiple times. His leg is an absolute aching pain radiating up into his hip. He’s going to have bruises on his arms at the very least.

In short, he’s rightfully pissed off, and the pirate’s strange death flirtation is not helping. “You’re disgusting!”

“Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before.”

Breath coming quick and hard, Negan’s trying to figure out how to wrangle Carl without letting him go when suddenly the door to his cabin opens.

“Captain, I thought I heard…” There’s a moment of silence as Dwight takes in the scene before him. He blinks a few times before bursting into action. “Holy shit! Are you okay?! Who the fuck is that?”

His yelling attracts the attention of a few more crewmen and soon there’s three in Negan’s cabin helping him up and hauling Carl to his feet.

Carl thrashes, slamming the heel of his good foot down on one of the crewman’s feet. The man lets go of his arm with a cry and he uses the distraction to ram his shoulder into the other man holding him, off balancing him.

He stumbles himself, almost going down with the second man as his leg screams in pain. The handle of his sword finds his slick palm and he wrangles it out of its sheath just as the first crewman rounds on him again, reaching out for him. Carl slices upwards, stumbling back with his injured leg, he torques the blade to compensate as he spins attempting to keep his feet.

There’s a gurgle and a thump, as he sways, angling the sword in front of him protectively. His admittedly still blurry vision lands on the man bleeding out between him and the pirate captain.

“Goddamnit! Grab him!” Negan’s voice is loud and commanding, pissed off beyond belief. He’d been having fun with Carl earlier, but now things were personal.

Another man appears in the door way, grabbing Carl from behind and tossing him out onto the deck like he’s nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Negan’s angry voice follows as he steps out as well, waving Dwight away from the knife still in his shoulder. “I said grab. I want him put into the brig, not thrown about.”

Carl shouts as he slides across the deck, his sword skidding in the opposite direction. He struggles to his feet, grabbing for anything nearby to pull him up. His balance is shot and with the sudden brightness of the new day after a night without sleep his eyes are even weaker.

Someone really does grab him this time, from behind with both arms pinning his own arms to his sides. He jackknifes his body, letting all his weight take him down to the ground again and with him his assailant. He doesn’t weigh much at all but it’s enough to send them both sprawling across the deck the wind completely knocked out of him.

“You call yourselves pirates? Can’t even hold onto a teenager that’s ten pounds soaking wet?!”

The thudding of feet and shouting is a dull roar as a crowd begins to form around Carl. Hands grab at him from all sides, tugging at his clothes and his limbs. Someone flips him onto his belly and holds him down with a heavy booted foot. His arms are yanked backwards, rough rope knotted around his wrists. His ankles get the same treatment, though it takes multiple men to get the task done and not get kicked.

Carl snarls and snaps at anyone who gets close enough, jerking and yanking at the ropes now layered over his clothes. When he’s to his feet, no less than six hands holding him in place, he glares harshly at the captain.

Some of his hair has escaped its strap and is sticking damp to the side of his face, he’s breathing heavily, his body is a puzzle of aches and pains, and now he’s left at the mercy of a pirate crew with no dagger and no sword to defend himself. So yes, all that’s left is for him to glare.

“Fuck, kid. You’re something else.” The crew parts to let Negan through. He stops in front of Carl, keeping about an arms length between them. The dagger is still sticking out of Negan’s shoulder, though the blood seems to have stopped leaking out for now. The arm connected to it hangs heavy, though his fingers twitch as he talks. “Just looking at you, I wouldn’t think you’d have so much fight in ya. Bet you’ve got bigger balls then some of my men with the way you snuck in here to kill me and held your own. Damn!”

A vicious victorious part of Carl is happy to see that he’s damaged the captain. Before this the man had felt untouchable but now he stands before Carl bleeding. Wounded by Carl’s dagger, the one he paid for himself, cared for and sharpened, the one with his initials etched into the handle.

“I’d like that back,” he says, in a feat of boldness that he summons just to eye his knife. Part of him hopes the pirate will kill him with it.

“Oh, you do, huh?” A grin spreads over Negan’s face, his eyes alight. Lord, help him. This kid knew just what to say to make Negan like him more and more. “You take back all the gifts you give?” He chuckles and shifts on his feet as the boat rocks.

“Only the ones that miss the mark,” Carl snipes.

“Captain, what should we do with him?”

“Hm, now there’s a question.” Negan leans down to be eye level with Carl, studying his face like he’s memorizing it. “What shall we do with you, Carl?”

Carl’s hackles raise at the question. How the hell is he supposed to answer something like that? Is he supposed to choose how he dies? How morbid.

“Did you give Lady Greene a choice last year when you burnt down her barn and killed her husband?” he spits.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t,” Negan says with a shrug and a wince. He doesn’t remember every transgression he’s had, though he likes to think he plays fair… when he can. “Maybe you should think yourself lucky that I’m giving you a choice and not just throwing you to the sharks outright.”

He pauses for a moment, looking Carl over again. “Or maybe that’s what you want? You came onto this boat with a death wish, didn’t ya?”

“What I want is you dead,” Carl tells him, head held high in spite of his bound and held state. He will not be forced to choose his execution, he’s not a criminal nor a lame horse.

Something occurs to him though. If the captain wanted him dead he would have already thrown him overboard rather than going through all this fuss, or stabbed him at the very least. “You know what I think?”

He jerks against the men holding him, trying to get close enough to the captain that his words come off just the way he wants them to. “I think you’re not saying what you’re going to do to me because you’re not going to do anything.”

“Careful,” Negan purrs, the smile on his face going sharp at the edges. He reaches out and takes Carl’s jaw in a hard grip, keeping their gazes locked. “Doing nothing is just as deadly as doing something.” He lets go and pushes Carl away, standing back to his full height. “Give our guest a nice bunk in the brig, would ya, boys? And leave him bound while you’re at it.”

Carl attempts to bite him before the captain pushes him back, snapping his teeth in hopes of doing just a little more damage to his captor. If he thinks a little hunger is going to break Carl he’s sorely mistaken.

“I hope your arm rots off!” he hisses over his shoulder particularly vindictively as the crewmen drag him away.

The brig is a damp, musty place with two cells shoved in the corner and a half mildewed haybale shared between them. When he’s shoved into the first one he keeps a firm distance from the hay even as he trips and stumbles, jerking himself to the side. Feet and hands both tied together he feels like a turtle flipped on his shell, wriggling in the floor to sit up while the cell door slams shut.

~

“Who was on watch duty last night?”

“Wilson and Malcolm.”

“Keelhaul the both of ‘em. Fuckers had to have been playing with their dicks to miss a whole ass person sneak on board and into my quarters. It’s unaccept- Ah! Fuck!”

Negan wheezes as Dwight finally rips the dagger out of him. New blood attempts to spill from the deep wound, but Dwight is quick with a rag soaked in tea and gin, mopping up the new and old blood and applying pressure to the wound. Negan hisses through his teeth, head tilting over the back of his chair.

“God, that stings.”

“It was in there pretty deep. You’re gonna have to change bandages daily and keep an eye on it. We should make port and get you to an actual doctor.” Dwight shakes his head, folding a clean and dry rag into a square before pressing that one to the wound.

“Well, the closest is Alexandria, but we can’t go back there right now,” Negan says through grit teeth. “Give the orders to head to The Kingdom. We’re on good terms with them still, yeah?”

“Yes, Captain.” Wrapping bandages around Negan’s shoulder and under his arm, Dwight ties them off tight. “And what of our passenger?”

Negan sighs, rubbing at his face with his good hand. He is so tired. “No food or drink for a few days. Check to make sure he’s still alive everyday, but don’t stay long. It’d be a shame to kill such a strong spirit.” The kid’s got moxie, that’s for sure, but he’s still young, and Negan knows that eventually everyone gets desperate enough. He doesn’t want to break Carl though, just crack him a little to see what’s inside.

~

It takes work for Carl to get on his knees but he breathes a bit easier as he does even if bending his leg makes it scream in pain. He’s pulled something likely, definitely twisted his ankle and jerked his knee in the fall. He focuses on the pain for now, knowing that it’s keeping him awake.

Arching back, his fingers find the ropes around his ankles. They’re layered, loose from their hasty tying but not loose enough to slip a foot through especially with his boots on. He pushes on his toes, working the ropes around his ankles until he can find the knots and then he gets to work. He knows that he would be much faster if his hands weren’t backwards and he could see the knots around his ankles but he’ll work with the flexibility he has.

After a few long minutes he manages to detangle the rope from around his legs. With his legs not bound together, it’s much easier to climb to his feet and think. He knows he can’t get his arms in front of him without possibly dislocating a shoulder, and while the pirates are bad enough at knots, he wants to demand how they lasted this long as sailors, they still managed to tie the rope around his wrists where he couldn’t reach the knots.

With a sigh, Carl begins testing bars. In a damp place like this it wouldn’t be uncommon to find one that is loose or rusty. He can’t slip through the bars to the outside but if his hands weren’t tied he could probably squeeze through to the other cell.

He sags against the wall of the ship when he finds all of the bars firm. Sliding down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor across from the haybale, Carl groans letting his head fall back. “I should have just slit his throat then and there.”

 

~

Carl’s Outfit Inspo Chaps 1 - 6

 

Chapter 2

Summary:

Carl spends some time in the brig.

Notes:

R: So happy to see people liking this story so far!! We’ll be updating Wednesdays and Sundays just so y’all know~

T: This is one of my favorite chapters because it’s mostly Carl just being a snarky dangerous thing in a cage. Hope everyone likes it as much as I do!

 

For three days there’s nothing but the sound of the ocean and the muffled sea shanties of the crew above. The sway of the boat indicated smooth waters, a small blessing as it is.

Dwight visits the brig twice a day during that time, morning and night. He says nothing, just confirms that Carl is alive. He came down once when Carl was asleep and banged on the bars, making sure Carl woke up, but didn’t interact with him other than that.

On the fourth day, Negan shows up.

His greatcoat is missing, just a loose black shirt tucked into his pants in its place. The collar is low, the bandages around his shoulder peeking out from under it. He carries a mug of ale and a bowl of dried meats and beans, salted veggies, and nuts.

“Rise and shine. Breakfast is here.”

Carl shifts, rolling his aching shoulders and curling his legs into a crisscross position. His leg has stopped hurting so much by now but until he’s out of this cage his whole body will be stiff and achy.

He glares at the pirate captain. Carl is honestly sure that the man is here to eat in front of him considering his hands are still tied at his back. Even more horrifying is the idea that the pirate will try to feed him and that he might be hungry enough to allow it.

“You still have your arm.”

“That I do,” Negan says with a nod. “Still hurts like hell, but I think I’m gonna make it.” He looks over Carl on the floor, at the dirty state of his clothes, hair in disarray. Something in Negan aches to smooth it back into the perfect ponytail it was in when he first saw Carl above him.

“Shame,” Carl comments to the pirate. He takes his own petty pride in not rising to his feet to meet the man. Of course the captain likely doesn’t know enough about civilized society to know the insult Carl is giving by remaining seated, as low and filthy it may be.

Negan chuckles. He does love Carl’s wit. “How are you faring down here, hm? Any open wounds? Hungry?” He bounces the bowl gently in his hand, trying to entice Carl closer with it.

“Oh it’s a real summer getaway down here in the brig,” Carl snarks before he can stop himself. The hunger is definitely beginning to get to him, and yet he can only think of his family who must be able to eat more now that he is gone even if he did sneak part of his daily meals onto his mother and sister’s plates.

“Uh huh. I mean it, kid. You got any wounds, you tell me. Don’t need you going gangrene on us.” Crouching down, Negan places the mug and bowl down on the ground through the bars so that they’re on Carl’s side. “I’ll leave these here for ya. You wanna come over here so I can untie you, or you gonna eat like a dog?”

Carl nearly says 'woof'. It’s almost instinctive to go against literally everything this guy wants.

This is the moment when Carl has to decide what wins. Pride or hunger? The simple fact of the matter is that he cannot kill the pirate if he’s dead.

So Carl pushes himself, swaying and stiff to his feet successfully containing the grimace that tries to spread across his lips. He steps up to the bars and takes a breath to steel himself before turning his back on the pirate. He doubts the captain will kill him but pirates are unpredictable at best.

Carl closes his eyes and shoves his bound hands backwards through the bars.

Quickly and quietly, Negan unties the knots in the rope. He’s honestly impressed Carl came so quickly. He must either be really hungry, or really prideful. Whatever it is, Negan’s just happy to have him following commands. Sorta.

“There you are,” he says, pocketing the rope once it’s off and taking a step back from the bars. He can just imagine Carl reaching through and clawing out his eyes.

Carl takes a deep breath in, squares his shoulders, and steps away from the bars. He stretches his chaffed wrists and stiff hands up above his head, eyes fluttering at the pops in his back and several of his fingers.

Dropping his hand to the leather tie in his hair, he unknots it and begins to finger comb his hair back out of his face, tying it back as neatly as he can without a mirror.

He raises a brow at the pirate. “You’re still here?”

“Is that a problem?” Negan asks, entranced by the show Carl unwittingly put on. Oh, Negan would love to sink his fingers into that long hair. He puts his hands in his pockets to quell the urge.

Carl rolls his eyes, glancing down at the food and drink. He crosses his arms so that he won’t reach for it and leans his shoulder against the bars watching the pirate’s face for any deception. “You’ll have to partake first anyhow.”

He won’t eat or drink anything this horrible man gives him until he knows the captain is willing to eat it himself.

Negan snorts and cocks his head. “Really? You think I’d go through all of this just to poison you? You’re something else. But, fine. I’ll humor you.”

Crouching back down, Negan reaches through and takes a piece of meat and a nut from the center of the bowl. He shows them to Carl and then sticks his tongue out, placing the food in his mouth, chewing exaggeratedly. “It’s the same food I feed me crew. It’s not steak ‘n’ potatoes, but it’ll fill you up.” He takes the mug back and swirls the ale before taking a swig of it. “This shit’ll make your pains go away that’s for sure.” He sets the mug back down and stands up, giving Carl a look of ‘ta-da’.

“Hm.”

It’s about as much vocalization as he’s willing to give the pirate. He crouches, picking up the mug first. He isn’t a huge fan of ale but needs must and he’s terribly thirsty. His mouth, if he was paying attention to that sort of thing, finds the lip of the mug where the older man’s just was, drinking deeply before he lifts the bowl and backs away to begin picking through it.

He’s aware that if he eats too fast it will all come back up again especially after so long without any food. He keeps his eyes trained on the captain as he partakes, still on edge.

“Good,” Negan says with a nod, just happy to see Carl eating. He was afraid Carl would refuse, would actually starve himself to death, and is glad to see that’s not the case. “I’ll be back with more later.”

With a turn on his heel, Negan makes his way topside, leaving Carl alone once again.

Carl acknowledges that it was smart of the pirate to not feed him anything that needs utensils. He sips the ale slowly as he finishes off his food. Both the mug and the bowl are made of metal so they cannot be broken and turned into anything he can use to stab. They’re heavy enough that he could perhaps use them to hit with but too awkward to get through the bars.

He frowns and settles in to wait, wishing he had some of his mother’s mint and daisy lotion for his aching and chafed hands and wrists.

That night when Negan brings Carl dinner, he tastes it in front of Carl before even attempting to set it down on the floor for him to take. “Oops, forgot the poison again,” he says jokingly, standing back to watch Carl yet again. It’s dark down in the brig with only the moonlight shining in through the small portholes, but he can make out Carl and that’s enough for him. Negan makes a mental note to bring a lantern next time. “Set your old dishes out here so I can take ‘em back to the galley.”

“Hm.”

Carl thinks about throwing the dishes at the pirate’s head but decides that the bars would be too in the way for it to work out the way he wants. Instead he gently trades out his mug and bowl for the new one, putting them in the same places so they will be easy to find in the low light of the brig.

He feels like he should have something snarky to say but he doesn’t really want to speak to the pirate at all. The solitude isn’t what has bothered him, nor the hunger, it’s the desperate boredom. There are no books, no training forms, no little sisters to take care of- just the cell.

“The food treat you well? Keepin’ it down?” Negan asks as he retrieves the empty dishes. He can’t smell any sick mixed with the salt and the damp hay, but it’s possible it’s somewhere.

He also just wants to make small talk. Carl obviously doesn’t want to talk to him, but Negan can’t help it. He loves to talk, and he’s so curious about the boy who wants so badly to kill him. It’s been killing him not to be the one checking on Carl in the brig over the past few days. Now that he’s given himself food duty, it’s like Christmas twice a day.

Carl hates him. He hates him terribly much and now that he’s eaten once he isn’t so terrified of being denied food once again. So he snaps at the pirate.

“One would think that with all you take from us you would have better to offer.”

“What do you think you’re eating, lad?” Negan snorts and crosses his arms, wincing at the pain that shoots through his shoulder at the movement. “You’ve been around ships, but I bet you’ve never been on long trips, eh? Your fancy food won’t last aboard a ship unless we salt the hell out of it or brine it. Trust me, I also wish we had better here, but it’s just not possible.”

To Carl, salted and brined food sounds like a luxury. He longs for pickled vegetables suddenly. With the Greene farm half burned down last year they’ve all been subsisting off of fish and the grain stores for the most part.

He zeros in on the slight wince he caches the man giving in the darkness due to his arm. It feels like a personal victory almost. “Was it your sword arm?”

Negan hums, surprised Carl didn’t have any quip back at him. He reaches up to ghost fingers over his shoulder wound. It’s stopped bleeding as of late, but the worry of infection always hangs overhead.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s still troublesome to have this one hurt, but at least I can jerk off just fine.”

“Hm,” Carl voices as he chews some of his meal.

Aside from the frankly concerning amount the captain talks about sex - and the even more concerning way Carl immediately thinks about the man doing such a thing - it’s awfully telling that he wouldn’t just lie. It would be easier to let Carl think that was his off-hand because it would give the pirate the upper hand if they were to fight again. “I’ll aim better next time.”

“I bet you will,” Negan says with a sharp grin. The moonlight catches his eyes the way it does predators in the night, shiny and out for blood. “Would love to have a real sword fight with you one day. One I’m wide awake for.”

Something in Carl curls up like a snake ready to strike at the look he’s been given. A part of him that his parents tried to get rid of when he was much younger wants to put his teeth in the pirate. “If you live that long.”

“Uh huh.” Tough words from someone locked up, he thinks, but doesn’t say. Pushing off the wall, Negan turns to head back to the deck, knowing he’s been gone for much too long. “Good night, Carl. Sweet dreams.”

“I hope both sides of your pillow are hot.” Carl lifts the mug and sips from it liberally wishing for literally anything other than ale.

“Ouch. Harsh, kid. Real harsh.” Hand over his aching heart, Negan shakes his head as he leaves to ascend.

The next few days are much the same. Negan brings Carl food in the morning and at night, and Carl wishes that Negan was dead. The sea is calm. The crew sings above. Same old. Same old.

Until the night that Carl got some visitors.

It’s deep into the night when a couple crewmen sneak their way into the brig to see the little treasure their captain has locked away. They light the lanterns that Negan has hung up during his previous visits, and bang on the bars like Carl is an animal in a zoo.

“Ah, well lookee ‘ere! No wonder the captain keeps ‘im locked up. He’d have the whole crew going mad if they got a glimpse of ‘im.” The crewman lets out a low whistle, his friend snickering at his side.

Carl is slow to get to his feet, standing away from the bars and observing the crewmen. He doesn’t see any keys or weapons on them so from what he can tell all they can do is reach through towards him, and it will be their mistake if they do. He still has the rope he initially untied from his feet, but he’s sure he won’t need it with two idiots like this.

They clearly don’t have the know how of their captain, or they don’t realize how much damage Carl did before he was in this cell if they’re making comments like that. He’s safe in this cage, safer than they’ll be outside of it if they aren’t careful, so he taunts them. “You want a glimpse of me? Is that it?”

He takes a step forward, just enough to make them think that he’ll let them touch. The wordy one is the one who reaches in first. Carl is fast though, always has been, and while he doesn’t have enough force to break a man’s hand by himself, the bars act as a fulcrum. He grabs the idiots wrist before he can get his arm all the way in the cell, throwing his entire body weight into bending it backwards.

There’s a snap, screaming follows, and Carl pushes harder, backwards, and in, the bone shattering and stabbing out of the man’s forearm as he screams in agony.

“Go on,” Carl pants with effort sliding one hand up to the exposed bone to grab it and yank. “Tell me how pretty I am!”

The second man, the laugher, curses at him, grabbing his buddy desperately by the shoulder, and then more foolishly, he gets close to the bars, trying to drag his friend’s arm back through. Carl takes the opportunity to twist the broken arm and take a feral stab with the splintered bone. He doesn’t expect it to go into the other man’s throat so easily… he’d only hoped.

The man gurgles around the bone in his neck, falling to the floor in a twitching pile. Blood spills out around him and his companion who slumps down to the ground, still pressed against the bars, arm flopping uselessly inside the cell. He’s passed out, either from blood loss or pain. It’s hard to tell.

The room goes silent as the stabbed man falls still. There’s no sound of boots running towards the brig, no yelling, nothing. It seems as though no one has heard the commotion.

“Hm.”

Carl kicks the arm still trapped in his cell and the bone squelches into the bloody wound of the other man’s neck. If no one wants to come down here and see then so be it, they’re either drunk or the sea has covered the screams.

It doesn’t matter to Carl. He may not have killed the captain, but by the time arm guy bleeds out then that will make three of his crew.

Carl leans back against the wall and slides down, crossing his arms and letting his head fall forward. The lanterns flicker over the bodies of the men, the red blood looking almost black. The lights are no bother, he’s been able to fall asleep anywhere he wants since he was a child.

The smell of iron is heavy in the air.

Morning cannot come soon enough.

Chapter 3

Summary:

A deal is made.

Notes:

Happy Sunday! Enjoy ~

 

The morning comes as it always does, sunlight filtering in through the porthole of the damp cell. The blood on the floor and the bodies shines, still tacky. Rigor has surely set into the men, the one dying not long after his mate, as the hours that have passed in the night seem longer than usual.

Thankfully they still only smell of blood and alcohol.

As the ship comes alive, the familiar bootsteps of the captain echo down the steps of the brig. “Rise and shine, lad. Got a treat for ya. Managed to find some extra… rum…” Negan halts at the edge of the cell, looking down at the bodies of his crewmen with an unreadable yet calculating expression.

Carl slowly opens his eyes, still lounging against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and ankles hooked together. He would look mighty casual if there wasn’t blood dried on his hands, clinging to the frilled cuffs of his shirt.

He eyes the captain, waiting. His food will likely be taken away but he’s fed up enough that he can go a few days again. Nothing said could make him regret disposing of the two filthy fools that came in here probably imagining taking themselves in hand from the sight of him, if their words can be trusted.

He quirks a brow at the captain.

Negan is silent for a long moment, holding Carl’s breakfast and staring at the mess on the floor. Eventually he scowls and without looking away asks, “Did they touch you?” in a soft but dark tone that would promise violence if the assailants weren’t already dead.

“They wanted to,” Carl answers evenly. He stays exactly where he is as he shrugs. “Not that it matters. I would have killed them if they came that close anyway.”

He well knows that the only reason the two would have gotten that close to the bars or reached in would have been to touch him. It’s obvious for anyone that looks at the bodies for long enough.

The scowl on Negan’s face only deepens. He turns like he’s going to leave and then realizes he’s still holding things. Quickly he places down Carl’s food and drink in the cell, making sure it’s away from any blood, and then heads back aboard the deck without another word.

“Hm.” Carl voices, leaning forward and taking the rum and the bowl of what seems like oatmeal thin enough for him to drink without a spoon. It’s a good breakfast really and the times Carl has snuck rum have him already knowing he likes it far more than ale even if he would prefer something less alcoholic.

It only takes a few minutes before the footsteps of multiple people come thudding into the brig.

“Oh my god…”

“Holy hell. Is that David?”

“Fucking shit.”

“Don’t get close to the bars.”

“Alright, c’mon. Stop gawking and get the bodies out of there,” comes Negan’s barked command. “They’re fish food now, and so is anyone else who steps out of line!”

There’s a shudder that runs through the small crowd, many of them trying not to look at Carl like they think they’ll get punished if they do. It takes a couple men each to grab the corpses of their mates and haul them out, leaving behind the tacky pools of blood and a bit of bone.

“What’s your plan, pirate?” Carl questions when the bodies have been taken away. He sets the empty bowl outside of the cage and swirls the remaining rum in his mug. “Gonna keep me here? The monster under the bed?” It doesn’t seem like there was any other reason to bring that many crew members down here other than to scare them.

“I wouldn’t have to keep you in there if I didn’t think you’d kill me and my entire crew once given the chance,” Negan snaps with a huff, glaring at the blood pools. He’ll get someone down here to mop them up soon. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve the stress building in his head. “These guys deserved it. I’m not… mad at you for that. They should have known better. I told you before I don’t encourage this type of behavior, and I meant it.” He looks up at Carl, a mix of every emotion shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to deal with them. You shouldn’t have had to.”

Carl doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t like the emotions on the captain’s face and he certainly doesn’t like the man apologizing to him like they matter to each other. Carl sips his rum, avoiding the pirates gaze.

“Don’t ruin my view of you as a badass, pirate,” he finally sneers with no other options at his fingertips. He has no leverage over this guy, no trust in him, and he doesn’t even know the bastard's name.

Negan chuckles softly and picks up the empty bowl from the ground. He watches Carl for a moment longer, the way he does like he’s memorizing every detail about the boy.

“I’ll try, Carl,” he says with a sigh, turning and heading back up the steps.

A few moments later Dwight appears with a mop and a bucket. He gives Carl a glance before getting to work soaking up as much blood as he can before it seeps into the wood.

Carl eyes the mopping man, who he had thought was the first mate before now. He edges around the cell, pushing the mop close to the bars but keeping his body far enough away that Carl can’t reach him. It’s smart.

“Why Alexandria?” he questions, finishing off the rum.

Giving a hum of acknowledgement, Dwight doesn’t look up from his job. “No real reason,” he says, frowning as he drips a bit of blood on his boot. “It’s an easy port. It’s always got supplies. The lawman is a bit of a pushover.” He shrugs. “It’s not like it’s the only place we make port and stretch our legs.”

The bitter laugh that escapes Carl is so startling it makes even him tense up. Of course the pirates picked their town because his dad is a fucking pushover. How could he have ever thought any different? After all it’s him on this ship trying to do something about the problem, not his dad. It’s him trying to protect his family and his town.

“How intriguing,” Carl says dully, dropping the empty mug outside the cell and resting his elbows on his knees, bloody hands stretched out in front of him limply.

Dwight winces at the sharp sound of the mug hitting the wood. “Yeah, I guess?” He shrugs and looks around. The floor is going to be stained for sure, but he’s done his best. If Negan doesn’t like it, he can get on his knees on scrub it himself.

Picking up the mug, Dwight gives another glance to Carl before heading out with his supplies. Everything is quiet for a moment before Dwight is suddenly there again, a clean but wet rag in his hands.

“Here,” he says, holding it just barely past the bars. “For your hands.”

Carl could pull him in, bash his head against the bars, do any number of horrible things to the man.

Instead he takes the kindness, slipping the rag from the pirate’s hands. Scrubbing his hands liberally, even pushing under his nails, he side eyes the man.

“My gratitude, pirate.”

“Name’s Dwight,” Dwight grunts with a nod. “And, yeah. No problem.” He scratches at the back of his head as he takes another look around the brig. It’s not a great place to be, and he’s honestly kind of impressed how well Carl is holding up.

He turns, one hand on the rail, and pauses. “You know… If you ask nicely, I’m sure Negan would bring you more than just food. Something to keep the chill away. Something to read.” He shrugs. “Just saying.”

“So that’s his name?” Carl wonders aloud, tracing the lines of each of his fingers to wash away the stubbornly clinging blood.

Carl holds out the stained red rag and when Dwight takes it he keeps hold until the man meets his eyes. “I only want one thing from him. His head. It’s the only way I can be sure he’ll never bring this crew back to Alexandria.”

He lets go of the rag.

A deep rooted exhaustion clouds Dwight’s eyes though the rest of him remains unfazed at Carl’s words. He sighs and steps back. “Yeah, sure, kid. I’ll let him know.”

He turns and leaves Carl alone with nothing more than the stains on the floor and the rotting hay.

And so, left alone once again, Carl sits back and waits, entertaining himself with memories, riddles, stories he can recall. Dwight is right about one thing, the cell is dreadfully boring.

When Negan shows up that night with Carl’s dinner he brings extra oil to refill the lanterns, lighting them to stave off the darkness while he watches Carl eat. “Rum again. It seemed like you liked that better? We don’t have a lot of it, so savor it, yeah?”

Carl sips the rum, rolling it over his tongue for a long moment. He looks the captain over, wondering if he’s still carrying Carl’s dagger.

“Negan. Interesting name that. Never heard it before,” the boy comments, setting the mug of rum between his feet so that he can pick apart the fish he’s been given. They were smart to give him a cut of fish with no bones, nothing to pick the locks with and all shredded up so that he has to eat like an animal.

“Yeah? You like it?” Negan leans backs against the wall, hands settling on his belt. He smiles, relaxed, like he’s chatting with an old friend. “Had it my whole life. Think it was my ma’s idea, but she passed before I could ask.”

“Someone somewhere told you that you were funny,” Carl observes after he’s finished chewing his first bite, frowning at the grease on his fingers. “I’d desperately like to string that person up by their toes.”

“Lord, you are just a little sicko, aren’t ya?” Negan’s grinning as he says it, the hunger back in his eyes. “You talk to your parents like that? With the way you’re dressed, I can’t imagine they’d take too kindly to it.”

“I don’t tend to talk to them at all if I can help it,” Carl shrugs. His parents are busy people. He sips the rum, holds it in his mouth for a moment and sets the mug down. “You never answered me earlier. What’s your plan?”

“Plan?” Negan works the word around in his mouth as he thinks, tapping his fingers on his belt. He probably shouldn’t tell Carl the whole truth, or maybe any of it. The fact is that right now all he has planned is just keeping Carl locked up. He’s a danger to him and his crew if he lets him out, and Negan’s shoulder is still too wounded for a fight.

He also really doesn’t want to kill Carl. He likes the kid, would love to have him as a part of his crew. It’s convincing Carl of that that’s the hard part.

“Well, right now we’re headed towards another port. You ever been away from home?”

Carl rolls his eyes. The pirate has no plan, it’s readily apparent in the way he completely avoids Carl’s question.

“Sure. Port Royal with the Navy,” Carl shrugs. “Terminus, Woodbury.”

“Uh huh, uh huh. So… No pirate ports, huh?” Negan bounces his eyebrows in glee. “If you promise to be a good boy, I could maybe let you run around when we land. I think you might like where we’re going.”

Carl thinks if he didn’t have to kill this man he would be turning tail and getting away from him as fast as he possibly could. If not for his overall disposition, for the way the words good boy make something surge in Carl that definitely shouldn’t.

“What on earth could you possibly offer me to make me be good?” Carl scoffs, scooping up the last of the fish on his fingers.

Negan crosses his arms, looking away for a moment as he recounts the conversation he had with Dwight earlier. They both knew the decision that had to be made. The crew would disagree for sure, wonder what’s so special about one kid to deny them their favorite vacation spot, but Negan sees something in Carl. Something great.

It’s getting Carl to trust him that’s going to be difficult.

“Immunity,” Negan says, his usual loose expression gone serious. “For you. For Alexandria. We’ll leave it alone. Take our business elsewhere.”

Carl lifts the mug and then lifts himself to his feet, stepping over to the bars of the cell. He hangs the empty bowl out of the bars, eyeing the pirate.

“Trusting the word of a pirate,” he hums and sips the rum, savoring it. “Alexandria for what exactly, pirate?”

Stepping forward, Negan takes hold of the bowl but doesn’t pull it from Carl’s fingers, letting them be connected by the smooth metal. “For your cooperation. For your company. I’d like to let you out of these bars without worrying about finding your pretty dagger in my heart or any of my crew.” He catches Carl’s eyes, blue like the briny sea. “We’ll only return to Alexandria to drop you off.”

Carl tilts his head.

He eyes Negan, searching for any trace of deceit. “If you are lying to me, hedging the truth in any way, I will know, and I will rip you open and remove bits of you in front of your eyes until they no longer see.”

Carl lets go of the bowl, holding his hand out to shake. Normally, after such a threat he would ask if he’d made himself clear, but something else feels more fitting here. “Savvy?”

“Savvy.”

Negan clasps Carl’s hand in his and give it a solid shake, a huge grin on his face. Oh, yes! He’s so excited he could scream it from the crow’s nest.

Releasing Carl’s hand, Negan reaches into his pocket. “Alright, this is how we’re going to do this. I’m going to give you this so you know I ain’t lying,” he says, pulling Carl’s dagger out. “But, I’m gonna have to prep my men so they don’t try jumping you the moment they see you out of bars. Also, Dwight has the key, so... Okay?” There’s no hint of a lie in his expression, just something like wonder and excitement. “I know it sounds suspicious as hell, but trust me. If I walk out of here with you after the mess you made of my men last night, they won’t be happy.”

He holds the dagger by the blade, offering the hilt to Carl. A dangerous move, but if Negan is asking Carl to trust him, then he has to trust Carl back. “Give me until tomorrow night. Savvy?”

“Hm.” Carl voices, taking the hilt of the dagger, the Grimes family crest on the pommel mocks him in spite of him requesting it himself. He twists it between his fingers, flipping it downwards and sliding it into its sheath.

“Savvy.” He takes a step back from the bars and a gulp of his rum. “It seems we’ve reached an accord, pirate.”

“Seems so. Pleasure doing business with you, Carl.” Negan winks and flashes a grin to Carl, eager now to release the news to his crew. “I’m gonna go inform Dwight of our agreement. You want the lanterns out for the night?”

Carl hums, looking into his mug, he has half a cup left to savor. “Better not to waste more oil.”

“Alright. Good night then, Carl. Tomorrow I’ll make sure you’ve gotten better accommodations.” Blowing out the lanterns, Negan takes one more glance back at Carl before ascending, praying to every god that he didn’t just make the biggest mistake.

Carl is slow to finish his drink. Part of the reason he hasn’t tried to escape is that he’s unsure if his plan will actually work. The other part is that, regrettably, while he has confidence in himself against a couple of men an entire crew would be too much for one person to handle. Especially someone as slight as himself.

When he finishes his rum, he sets the mug outside of the cell as always, eyeing the wider bars between the two cells in the moonlight flooding in from the porthole. Stripping himself of his frockcoat and his belts, he slides those through first. They are a large part of the reason many people do not notice his thinness and without his hands tied behind his back sliding through the bars to the adjoining cell only takes a bit of precise wiggling.

Now comes the real test. Do the pirates lock the cells when no one is in them? Carl gives the door a good hearty push and delights in the way it creeks open, unbothered by the noise considering no one heard his actions the night before. He pulls his overcoat and his belts back on as he exits the cell, drifting over to the cubbies he’s been eyeing on the opposite wall. There are extra hammocks here and he selects one for himself, lashing it between the support beam and the bars of the cell and testing it.

It is only a hammock, but after so long sleeping on the floor next to molding hay, Carl finds it quite the luxury. He is no longer protected by the bars of course, but he has his dagger for anything unsavory, and he settles with his hand wrapped loosely around the hilt.

Chapter 4

Summary:

Out of the brig and on to the deck.

Notes:

Thank you everyone for reading!! Drop us a comment with your favorite part~ 🥰

 

 

“Hello. What’s this?”

Sunlight filters in through the porthole, dust motes dancing in the air. Negan stands holding Carl’s breakfast with a bemused, but somewhat impressed, expression on his face as he stares at Carl free from his cage and lying in a hammock. “How…?”

“You really didn’t think I was going to stay there all night after you gave me my dagger, did you?” Carl questions, opening his eyes just to give the man a dull look.

“Well, I… I didn’t know you could wiggle your ass out anytime you wanted,” Negan says with a snort, stepping closer to hold out the food to Carl. It’s the closest they’ve been next to each other without bars between them since Carl had his knife to Negan’s throat.

“It’s grog to drink today. It’ll help keep off the scurvy.” He tilts the cup to and fro, hoping it’s enticing. “Just watered down rum with some citrus innit.”

“That,” Carl says, rolling neatly off the hammock to his feet, “sounds like the best thing you’ve given me since you tossed me down here.”

He takes the mug straight from Negan’s hand, paying little attention to the way their fingers slide together on the handle and swallows a liberal drink. It is the best thing Negan has given him, too. Rum, water, and juice all mixed together like something made just for Carl. His eyes flutter a bit as it slides over his tongue and he hums, most pleased.

“I couldn’t, by the way, not those first four days when I was tied up.” He eyes today’s bowl which is still tilted towards the pirate so he can’t see its contents.

Negan is entranced by the way Carl enjoys the drink. His little pleasured hum, the flutter of his eyes. There’s a peek of his pink tongue on his lips as he licks the remnants away. Oh, Negan could watch that forever. Has to stop himself from reaching out and touching.

“Huh?” He’s jolted back from his stupor by Carl’s words, quickly trying to add up what he’s saying to him. “Couldn’t what?” Offering Carl the bowl, it looks like today’s meal is porridge like grits with a piece of hardtack stuck in along the side, topped with some kind of salted meat.

Carl trades his drink for the bowl of food, practically forcing Negan to hold it for him as he lifts the hardtack, using it as a makeshift utensil for the porridge. He extends his middle finger to the open cell door, the one he most certainly wasn’t in the night before.

“Couldn’t squeeze through with my arms tied.” He answers. Of course it tells them how he got out but there’s a hundred ways to get out of a cell, you just have to be willing to try them.

“Huh.” Negan hardly spares a glance over to the cell, focused again on Carl’s mouth as he eats and uses Negan like his personal table. And fuck if Negan won’t just stand there and allow it. He knows he’s a little obsessed with the kid, willing to cut off a profitable port from their route just for him, but if being tied around Carl’s finger is wrong, being right sounds really boring.

“I’ll have to make sure to keep that other door locked in the future, or fatten up my prisoners. Whichever seems easier.” He laughs softly, amused at himself as always even as his eyes trace around Carl’s face.

“Or keep their hands tied,” Carl shrugs. The thought of Negan leaving him tied like that, having to lean close to the bars and feed him by hand every night… is both pleasant and deeply concerning so Carl focuses on his food.

The porridge is actually quite good with the meat in it even if the meat is tough. He takes the grog for a minute to sip from it before handing it back.

“Though… I doubt you have many like me in those cages,” he points out after chewing and swallowing politely.

“Quite right,” Negan says, doing his job dutifully. “Most I’ve thrown in there is my own men who needed a day or two to cool off from something or another. Other than that, I’ve had a few marines too proud to surrender, and other pirates too stupid not to.”

“Hm,” Carl vocalizes, scraping his bowl as clean as it will get and beginning to chew on the hardtack. He trades the bowl out for the grog and gestures with it to the stairs.

“Are they still scared of the monster under the bed, or can I get some much needed sun?”

“Ah, right! I talked to Dwight last night, me first mate if you didn’t know, and we made the announcement this morning.” He shifts on his hips, hooking a thumb back to gesture up the steps. “The men are a little pissed at losing Alexandria, but their panties will get untwisted soon. They’ve agreed not to harm you, and anyone who tries anything knows his ass will get keelhauled faster than a blink. I was comin’ down here to tell you, and give you food, and also let you out, but looks like you’ve got the last thing covered.” He leans in a little closer and smiles, reaching out to gently chuck Carl under the chin with his knuckle. “So… You ready to face the day?”

Carl rolls his eyes and steps past Negan. The man might be captain of this ship but he is certainly not Carl’s captain so the respect of allowing him up the steps first will be withheld. He sips from his mug as he begins up the stairs, truly savoring this drink.

“I do wonder, pirate, if given the choice, why would man prefer to be keelhauled rather than face me?” He’s seen it happen before. Half drowned and couldn’t walk for two days, entire body scraped up in a way that never quite healed right, half his nose gone.

Of course… he acknowledges that the chance of survival might be higher.

“It’s not about facing you,” Negan says with a chuckle, following Carl closely up the steps. “I know you can handle yourself. My men know you can handle yourself.” When they reach the top, Negan leans in close to Carl’s ear. “It’s because they think I have a claim on you, and if they dare to touch what’s mine, then they die.”

Carl laughs. It’s probably not the best impression, but he does, he just can’t seem to hold it in. Nor can he seem to hold in what he says next.

“Yours? I am no one’s.”

He’s loyal, ridiculously so if he trusts what he’s been told. It had bothered his mother and it had bothered Shane, but it will always be the one thing he got from his father that he’s at least minorly proud of. The thing about loyalty is that everyone thinks it’s about belonging to another person, but Carl is only loyal to what belongs to him.

“I know that, but they don’t,” Negan purrs. If anything, Negan feels like he belongs to Carl, but he’s not about to tell him that and make the kid really think he has power. “It shouldn’t come up, but just play along if it does, yeah?” He reaches out and playfully tugs on the end of Carl’s ponytail before straightening up and waving Carl more onto the deck.

“Welcome to The Lucille!” He throws his arms out, gesturing to the ship around them.

The sails are black and red, with crewmen dressed in similar colors mingling about. The wood is a deep chocolate brown color that shimmers in the sun. Carved railings and spindles around the edge showcase high craftsmanship, as does the lustful mermaid figurehead. It’s a beautiful ship, really, once one stops to take a look at it.

Carl finds that he would desperately like to shed his black and red frock coat as soon as he sees the deck in true daylight. The ship is beautiful, one he would have lusted after if it had made port without the accompanying rabble. He imagines if they were traders of some kind he would have bartered his way onboard years ago, run away from the endless expectations of a first born son in polite society.

But here, among these pirates, he does not want to fit in with them. If the sum of a man is greater than any other it can be measured not by wealth or status, but by experience and intellect, and in spite of the years these men have on him he finds most of them greatly lacking.

“She is quite beautiful,” Carl complements the ship, coasting his fingers lovingly over the starboard railing as he moves to lean against it taking in the waves. “It is a shame she’s in such terrible company.”

“You wound me with your words, dear boy. They’re so much sharper than your knife,” Negan says with a dramatic hand over his heart. “We take good care of Lucille, and she hasn’t let us down yet. She’s a good, strong fighter. Always thirsty for a little blood, but always beautiful. Like someone else I happen to know.”

He shoots a wink to Carl. The boy really does look like he belongs on the ship, already sporting the colors as he is. Lord, what Negan would give to have him fighting alongside him instead of against.

Carl scoffs, finishing off his grog with two long pulls that still leave him wanting more. He contends with the fact that the gold filigree on his coat and his general tidiness in spite of so long in the cage sets him apart enough for now. Perhaps he’ll get his hands on a coat of blue or gold when they port, after all he’d only worn his darkest coat in order to sneak onboard without being seen.

“Is this what you do? You flirt people into joining your crew?” Carl asks, turning his body so that he leans back against the rail, elbows propped across it as he begins searching with his eyes for his rapier’s elegant golden handle.

“Oh, the flirting doesn’t stop once they’ve joined,” Dwight says with a roll of his eyes as he steps up to the pair. Negan grins and throws an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close.

“Aw, you love it, Dwighty!”

“You get used to it.” Dwight snorts, leaning into Negan just a bit though his attention is on Carl. “Nice to see you out and about without a blade in your hand. If you need anything during your stay with us, you can let me know.”

“Dwight, thus far you remain my favorite man on this ship,” Carl says, eyeing the familiarity with some small interest before casting his gaze around the ship again.

He pulls his dagger out just to spite them, pinching it between two fingers and beginning to spin it in a well practiced arc. “You could tell me where my sword is.”

“I’m not your favorite?” Negan looks crestfallen, exaggerating his movements as he swoons back in shock. Dwight has to quickly reach out and grab him so that he doesn’t fall to the floor. “Woe is me on this day!”

“Negan, please. Making a fool of yourself…”

“Pssh. Fuck off, Dwight.” Negan rights himself like nothing happened, smoothing his hands down the front of his coat. “Never let me have any fun around here.”

Shaking his head, Dwight looks back to Carl. “Your sword is in the captain’s cabin. I’m sure he’ll give it back to you.” He slides a pointed look to Negan who flicks him off.

“Oh? What made you think you were my favorite?” Carl questions, twisting the knife around his fingers until he can point it at the captain. “Was it the stabbing?” He quirks a brow. “The fact that I never even cared to ask your name?”

Carl tuts, sliding his dagger back into its sheath and pushing off the starboard rail. He walks between them, pushing the empty mug into the captain’s chest. “I’ll retrieve it myself, god knows you probably haven’t oiled, sharpened, or shined the poor darling. If the state of my dagger is anything to measure by.”

“He’s so mean to me, Dwight. I didn’t know he didn’t know my name,” Negan laments, handing the mug and bowl to Dwight.

“I think you’re just disappointed that you’re not as well known as you think you are, and a little bit of a masochist at that.”

“You’re one to talk about masochism.” Negan grins as he leans it and nips his sharp teeth at Dwight’s ear, making the man yelp and turn away with a blush. Negan grins and pats Dwight on the back. “Keep the ship running like you do. I’ve got to catch up with Carl before he realizes the door to my room is locked. Kid’ll probably try kicking it down and succeed.”

“Have fun.”

Negan catches up with Carl, smiling all the while. “You’re real good with swords then? Since you’re concerned about the state of yours.”

“The blacksmith was a dear friend,” Carl says, pausing at the door when he sees Negan reaching in his coat, likely for a key. If anything at least the man has learned to lock his doors to keep out any would-be assassins.

“And my father is a fine swordsman, as fine as he is a gunman that is,” Carl acknowledges. He hadn’t had classic training like Carl, nor the military training Shane snuck into Carl’s visits. His father couldn’t beat him in a sword fight but damn if he couldn’t outshoot anyone he’d ever met.

“The sword is an extension of oneself,” Carl says, stepping into the captains quarters and casting his gaze around the room, “if you do not care for it it will fail when it is most needed.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Negan agrees with a nod, following Carl in and closing the door behind them. The last time they were here together, Carl was spilling Negan’s blood upon the floor. His shoulder throbs at the memory he hopes won’t be repeated.

“Your sword is here.” He goes behind his desk where a display case is set open, Carl’s sword laying on plush red velvet next to a few others. He picks it up by the handle, but then tosses it gently in the air to grab it by the blade and offer the safe side to Carl. “I was admiring it. It’s quite a piece.”

“It’s perfectly balanced and fit to my hand,” Carl says, palm finding home on the handle. He eyes the dulled blade from rolling across the deck and being uncared for for over a week with some distain. It’s still sharp enough to rend flesh from bone easily, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Carl twists the rapier in his signature loop, loosening his wrist and nodding to himself at the familiar feel. Sliding it neatly into its own sheath beneath his dagger, Carl feels much more centered as he always does with both weapons pressed to his hip. “It would serve no other the way it serves me.”

“It looks good in your hand,” Negan says, opening a drawer on his desk and retrieving his sword servicing kit, including his grease and sharpening stone. He places everything on his desk towards Carl, gesturing toward it with an open hand. “Feel free to use anything here to clean it up as you see fit. Can’t have a guest aboard my ship with a dull sword.”

Carl lifts the sharpening stone and one of the rags from the desk, eyeing the grease with little contained contempt. He has linseed oil in his coat, even if he’ll need to find more after caring for both his dagger and his sword. He imagines the pilot or the sea artist could better tell him how close to port they are than Negan, that is if the man has the hierarchy for such things on this ship.

“My appreciation,” he says, politeness winning over his contempt even as he about faces. He is more than tired of being indoors after so long and he will be servicing his blades on deck. He’d seen a perfectly nice banister to straddle near the helm where any sharpening dust could be knocked off into the ocean rather than on Lucille’s pretty decks.

Negan follows after like a great big puppy, wanting to learn everything he can about Carl now that he’s allowed to be near him without fear for his life. If he’s also keeping a watch on his men and how they look at Carl, well… that’s just a perk.

“What is it that you do all day?” Carl questions, throwing his leg over the banister, completely unbothered by the idea that he could easily fall right into the sea as he leans back against the railings arching up to the helm. “Other than being a nuisance, of course,” he clarifies, taking out his dagger first as it will be the quicker and easier blade to service.

“Anything a normal ship captain does,” Negan says, hands hesitating to reach out as he watches Carl put himself in a precarious position. ‘I swear to god, if this kid falls off…’ “Set the destination, train new crewmen, make sure the old ones are doing their jobs.” He ticks off the things on his fingers as he lists them. “Keep track of the books, make sure people get their share, make sure people are happy and content but disciplined all the same.” He shrugs. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to do during your time here? Could put you to work if you’d like.”

Carl can’t hold back the snort at Negan’s description of his work. “I’m going out on a limb and saying you’ve never been on a vessel that wasn’t a pirate vessel.”

He holds his dagger up to his face, point away from him, and eyes the blade before flipping it. Linseed oil pulled from his coat he dabs the whetstone with it and begins sharpening the rougher side of the knife between his spread thighs. “Either that or you’ve never had anyone competent enough to act as your quartermaster aside from Dwight who you claim is your first mate.”

He casts his gaze around the deck. Negan doesn’t actually have many pirates on board. He’s three short as well considering Carl's contributions. He wonders if he’s cost the pirate anyone important but he doubts it.

“I’m going to guess that you’ve never been on a pirate vessel,” Negan snarks back with a smirk, shifting his weight and crossing his arms. “It’s a bit looser here with the ranks and responsibilities, what with the high turnover rate due to… unplanned deaths.” He gives Carl a pointed look and shakes his head.

“Hm.” Carl lifts the dagger, flipping it in front of his eyes and tearing the sharpness against his thumb. “Give me your arm?”

He holds a hand out, waiting.

Negan goes rigid, face going serious as he studies Carl. His eyes flick from Carl’s to his hand and back. He can guess what Carl wants to do, but does he dare give him that opportunity? That power?

Slowly, Negan extends his arm out, placing it into Carl’s waiting palm.

Carl pushes up Negan’s sleeve slightly, having not even considered harming the man in any way. He tests the blade’s sharpness by shaving a bit of arm hair and hums happily at how easy it goes. “Perfect.”

He pulls the dagger back and wipes it down with the rag before sliding it back in the sheath. Wiggling his own arm in Negan’s direction before he pulls his sword to start on, Carl offers a dismissive. “I don’t really grow enough body hair to test it, I’m like my mother in that way.”

The sword will take much more time than the dagger did. “So why is Dwight your first mate rather than your quartermaster?”

Sucking in a breath, Negan’s shook from the metaphysical hold Carl had on him, blinking rapidly. “What… uh…” He pulls his arm back, running his hand over it like he can still feel the tickle of Carl’s blade on his skin. Fuck, this kid is dangerous in so many ways, and it’s got Negan’s dick twitching in his trousers.

He wants to get his hands on Carl so bad. Take off all his layers and see just how little body hair he claims to not have. Wants to set his teeth into Carl’s thighs that he’s got wrapped around that banister. Mark him up. Claim him in a way so that only Negan knows.

“He’s… kind of both, I guess. Again, the titles are kinda loose. I had an official quartermaster, but lost him recently to the siren call of a woman, so, we made do.”

Siren call of a woman what a joke. Carl endeavors not to roll his eyes too hard, shifting his body with the blade as he sharpens it. It’s a lot longer than the dagger, he has to lean forward to sharpen it all the way down to the decorative hilt.

“They say pirates are a dying breed,” Carl comments, not looking up from his work. “Seems like they’re right.”

Negan shifts forward, once again worried about Carl falling, but he laughs softly and shrugs. “Depends on who you ask. Think the marines are spreading rumors myself. Trying to calm people’s fears or something.”

“That’s the thing though, if it’s not fear of pirates it’s fear of something else,” Carl flips the blade and rocks forward, sharpening it. “Pirates are a fear that is known, take that away and what do you have?”

He turns, eyeing Negan for a moment. “Pirates are what put marines in control in the first place, whyever would they be trying to be rid of you if not for bigger prey.”

That’s the question isn’t it. The world is slowly being mapped, getting smaller and bigger every day. If it’s not the men of the ocean, the ones like Negan, that people are so scared of, then what is it? What are they trying to hide?

“There are scarier things in the ocean than pirates,” Negan says, voice ominous as he looks out over the horizon. “Sailing these seas isn’t all fun and games, sea shanties and rum. There’s horrors out here you’ve never dreamed of.” His gaze falls back to Carl as the side of his mouth ticks up into a smirking grin. “But, there’s also treasure. Treasure that everyone wants, not just pirates.”

“Greed makes the world,” Carl mocks, “every single corner and edge of it.”

He imagines from the pirates tone of voice he’s seen some such horrors in the past. He tilts his blade and tuts dragging it along the whetstone once more. “If it were easy, everyone would do it.”

Chuckling humorlessly, Negan nods and watches Carl’s hands as he works. He wonders if he can get Carl to do his swords too. “Very true.” Humming, he rocks on the balls of his feet, edging himself closer to Carl. “You say greed, but isn’t there something out there you want? Something more than anything?” He raises his eyebrows, curiosity shining in his eyes. “And don’t say my head or safety for your town. You’ve got that already, and that’s really not for you. What treasure lies in your heart, Carl?”

Freedom. It’s the easiest answer there is, it’s right there, right at the tip of his tongue.

As soon as he goes back to Alexandria, regardless of what he did and the time that he has missed, his mother will be there expecting him to choose a good high class girl from the city ports to marry, someone that can get his mother out of Alexandria. She thinks she’s too good for their small port town. When she came to be a governess she never thought she’d be stuck there.

“What could I possibly want? I have wealth, family, a purpose ahead of me,” the words make him sick to his stomach. He holds out a hand for Negan’s arm again, hoping to test the sharpness of his sword as well.

“A family you don’t talk to,” Negan says nonchalantly. He can tell there’s something in Carl clawing to get out. This spitfire kid who talks about ripping out organs and kills men mercilessly can not be happy trapped in his bourgeois house.

This time, Negan doesn’t hesitate to hand over his arm, trailing his fingers down Carl’s palm and wrist as he does it.

A swoop dances through his chest at the touch, sparks sliding up his wrist in a way they don’t even do with the blacksmith, and Carl resolutely ignores it, resting his blade against the grain of Negan’s hair. Still holding onto the man he jerks him forward, arcing the blade up and pressing the flat of it against his throat. He meets Negan’s eyes readily unbothered by his own sword inches from his skin.

“Do not endeavor to think you know anything about me and my family, pirate.”

Negan gasps, a smile curling over his lips as his heart pounds in his chest. Lord, he’d lean forward and kiss Carl right now if it wasn’t for the sharp blade at his throat. “You told it to me,” he purrs quietly, pressing forward as much as he can without cutting himself. “Said you don’t talk to your parents. That’s all I was saying.”

Carl’s jaw clenches, he knows his mistake in pulling this man close immediately, knows without a doubt that the one time he doesn’t have a blade between them will be his downfall. Carl lets the pirate go, leaning back and pulling his sword with him. He caresses the blade and then with as much grace as always despite his tingling hands he slides it home in his sheath.

“You put too much weight on the words said by men in cages, Negan,” he decides. Picking up the whetstone and the cloth, he holds it out to the man hoping at once for something to pull their attention away from each other.

Negan reaches out with both hands, sandwiching Carl’s and the whetstone between his. He tugs him forward, closing the distance between them again. “Maybe I do, though I tend to think that those are the men most honest with themselves.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, imagining them sinking into Carl’s pink lips.

With a breath, he lets go, taking the whetstone and rag with him. “I’ll go put these away. You’re free to join me or look around. Dwight should be by the wheel if you want to be with your favorite.” With a smile, Negan turns and saunters off back to his quarters.

Carl’s eyes flick up to the helm where Dwight is standing and likely saw the whole thing. He sighs, swinging his leg back over the banister. The quarter deck is only different in such a way that it’s emptier, only Dwight stands at the wheel.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer,” he assures the man. He’s never going to press anyone for information they don’t want to give unless it’s much needed.

“Ask me first, then I’ll decide if I’ll answer,” Dwight says, cocking his head as he turns towards Carl, offering his full attention. He’s curious for sure, but won’t agree to something that may get him in trouble.

Carl leans backwards against the railing in front of the wheel, arms crossed and ankles locked. “I can understand the allure of piracy.”

Bad fucking start. Terrible start really for someone who is supposed to be willingly going back to high society.

“But why him? Why this ship? What makes this man and this ship better than any other?” Carl questions.

Dwight hums, stepping up next to Carl and looking out over the deck. The crew may be short, but those that are left are running like a well oiled machine. Soft singing starts up amongst those cleaning the floor of the salt and grime, keeping the Lucille in pristine condition.

“You may not believe it, but Negan is a good man,” Dwight starts, folding his hands behind his back. “As good as a pirate can be, anyway. He doesn’t care much for laws, but he’s fair, and his rules make sense. He encourages the crew to be the same way, but there are always stragglers like the ones you took care of.” He looks to Carl with an amused raise of his eyebrows.

“I came from another ship, as many of us here have. My previous captain… He was not as kind as Negan.” He reaches up to graze his fingers over the marred side of his face. Memories he wishes could be forgotten float to the forefront of his mind. The smell of burnt skin forever in his nose. “Most captains are not as kind as Negan. He can be ruthless to enemies and those who disobey, but to those of us who just want to live our lives at sea… Negan offers us that freedom at a low cost.”

Carl takes in all the information, listening to Dwight speak intently. He’s sharply reminded of the kindness of a wet rag to clean his dirty hands. Of the way Negan had stared at the bodies next to his cell and asked if they had tried to touch Carl. If he had pulled something of the sort at home he would have been in irons faster than he could blink, no matter who his father is.

Carl his seen them kind which is interesting considering how his presence on The Lucille has come about. Perhaps, he needs to see them brutal as well.

Carl turns, one hand on the rail, and pushes himself up on his toes in a feet of public boldness he would never indulge in at Alexandria. Pressing a soft kiss to Dwight’s cheek where the burn scars are the most twisted, Carl says, “Thank you, for your honesty.”

He hopes, that if the captain can say such lecherous things to the man, he won’t be condemned for this bit of gentleness.

Pink spreads over Dwight’s face as he looks at Carl, a little shocked but not put off. He smiles softly, touching the spot where Carl’s lips pressed. “Yes, of course,” he says, softly. “I’ve no reason to lie to you.”

His eyes drift back out over the deck for a moment before landing on Carl again. “Um, thank you, as well. For choosing to trust us in the end.”

Carl laughs softly looking up to the sky as he leans back against the rail once more. “Dwight a little thing to know about me? I don’t trust a lawman, why would I trust a pirate?”

“Mm. I get it.” Dwight nods, unsure if he should be worried by that or not. “Well… I’m glad you’re not trying to kill us anymore. How’s that then?”

A truer sort of smile curls at the corners of his mouth. “If you’re right, and I can hold Negan to his word, then you’ll both be safe from my blade, Master Dwight.”

“I will consider myself safe then,” Dwight says with a firm nod. His belief in Negan is unwavering, built upon years of loyalty and friendship.

“This port we’re going to,” Carl starts after a few minutes of silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. “How far is it?”

“We’re still about a week out. Might want to find something to do until then.” Dwight chuckles, leaning over and resting his elbows down on the rail. “I can teach you about the ship, if you like. Give you some easy jobs. Negan’s got books in his cabin. I’m sure he’ll let you read them.”

“Seems I’ve put you down six hands,” Carl observes, letting his face come down from the sun, blue eyes opening to focus on the man beside you. “As a gentleman, it would be expected of me to assist you, no?”

Dwight shrugs as best he can from his position. “Not if you don’t want to. Negan’s been referring to you as a guest, I think, so if you’d like to just enjoy the ride, you may.”

“Now,” Carl says, letting his arms come uncrossed so that he can slap the banister lightly, “whyever would I do what he wants me to do? Hm?” Carl straightens, tightens his tied up hair and gestures to the deck. “Where will you have me, Master Dwight?”

Dwight smiles and stands up.

“Follow me, lad.”

~

As the sun sets on another day at sea, Dwight relieves Carl of the work on the nets he’d set him on. Clapping him on the shoulder, Dwight points toward the entrance below deck. “It’ll be supper time for the day crew and about the time Negan would take you your dinner,” he says. “You’re welcome to join the crew in the galley, or…” Candle light flickers through the windows of Negan’s cabin, warmth in the cool moonlight. “Negan takes his meals in his room.”

The invitation for Carl to join Negan is there, though Dwight doesn’t say it.

“I suppose it’s my turn to bring him food, hm?” Carl says, attempting to not lean into the weight of the hand on his shoulder. “Mind helping me fix the servings then?” He asks. “I wouldn’t want to overtake.”

“Sure. Come along.”

Leading the way into the inner workings of the boat, Dwight points out where the crew bunks are and also the ways to get to the ammunition, food, and weapon storage areas. He keeps Carl close as they make their way into the galley, the crew loud and boisterous after a day of work. No one had given Carl any trouble, from what Dwight had seen, but a few still shot some unsavory looks towards him.

Showing Carl where to go to grab the food, Dwight introduces him to the cook (“His name is actually Cook.”) who seems to take a liking to Carl.

“So, yer the one the captain’s been sneaking food off to, eh?” He dishes out a bowl of beans covered in strips of salted meat and a couple pickled eggs to Carl and to Dwight. It’s not grand food, none of it has been, but it’s filling nonetheless. “Glad to see you made it topside.”

“My thanks,” Carl nods politely to the cook, stacking the slightly larger bowl on top of the smaller one and taking the two mugs Dwight is holding out by the handles in one hand.

He looks up at the scarred man and gestures slightly with the mugs. “You planning to join us?”

“I can, if you wish it,” Dwight says, cocking his head to the side. He does usually eat with Negan, but he’s not sure if Carl would want him there as well.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Carl asks rhetorically, waiting for Dwight to lift his own serving and mug. “Did you think I was lying when I told Negan you were my favorite?”

“I just wasn’t sure how much you wanted it to be you taking the captain dinner, that’s all.” How much you wanted to be alone with him. Dwight picks up his share and then nods at Carl. “Lead the way, then.”

The intention in Dwight’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed and Carl takes a breath feeling as terribly transparent as glass. “I can assure you, Master Dwight, that Negan is not quite as charming as he imagines he is.”

Dwight would disagree, but he knows when to keep his mouth shut.

Carl begins the short trek to the captain's cabin, not pausing to allow Dwight to knock as he clearly wants to, pushing down the handle with the bottom of the mugs and stepping in. “Master Dwight and I were sorely lacking in intelligent company, so we decided to lower our standards and bring you a meal.”

Negan looks up from where he’s sat at his desk, glasses resting at the end of his nose and pen in hand. It seems as though they’ve interrupted him as he was filling out his captain’s log.

He grins and laughs at Carl’s little jab, closing up his book and clearing away space at the desk for his guests. “Well, now. I’m glad you’ve decided to do so. Dinner with such handsome company is always appreciated.”

“Yes, he’s quite fetching,” Carl says absently, unloading his hands onto the desk. The slightly larger bowl is slid in front of Negan with one of the mugs of (unfortunately) ale. It’s a good distraction from the look of the pirate in spectacles, which is horribly and annoyingly handsome.

He reaches back with his leg, hooking one of the heavy chairs with his ankle and tugging it forward so that he can sit in it, leaving more than enough room at his side for Dwight to do the same. He hadn’t realized he’d missed a table and spoon until now, lifting the utensil in his hand.

“Yes, isn’t he though?” Negan’s tone is odd, slightly suspicious. Him and Dwight share a look and a silent conversation, a skill gained only by being close with someone for a long while. It only lasts a moment but ends with a shrug and sigh from Dwight as he takes his seat and digs into his food.

“So, how was your first day on deck?” Negan asks Carl, removing his glasses, folding them up, and placing them to the side. He picks up his spoon, waving it toward Carl. “I think I saw you with the nets?”

Carl’s eyes follow the discarded specs for a moment, before sliding back to Negan. He’s no less handsome without them but this is far more familiar.

“If you’ll remember,” Carl drawls, spooning up one of the pickled eggs in his bowl and reaching out to plop it in Negan’s before lifting the other and depositing it in Dwight’s, “my first day on deck I attempted to kill you, and by all accounts it was quite wonderful until my untimely capture.”

Both men take a moment to blink at the egg they’ve been given, and both have the same thought. ‘How childish.’

Sinking his spoon into his, Negan cuts his egg in half as he rolls his eyes. “Alright, smartass. You know what I mean.” He scoops up a bite of beans and egg and chomps down on it. He can’t explain why sometimes Carl’s attitude is funny and other times it makes him want to wring his neck.

“You may roll your eyes at me, but I’ll have you know that there are many ways to make an egg and pickling the poor thing is an abomination,” Carl huffs, pointing his spoon between the two men.

It’s not that they don’t agree with Carl, it’s just that Negan and Dwight both understand how precious food at sea is. How hard it is to store and keep for weeks, months. How desperate you get when there’s little left.

In a fit of honesty, Carl lifts a spoonful of beans and speaks softly before eating them. “I had missed being in the sun. Leaning against the mainsail in the afternoon light was a welcome respite.”

Negan seems to deflate at the words, all signs of annoyance melting out of him. He smiles softly, studying Carl’s face and noticing the soft suntan on his cheeks bringing out a spattering of freckles across his nose. What Negan would give to kiss them.

“Good,” he says, noticing how Dwight also seems to be glowing in the candle light. “I’m glad.”

“You aren’t being as…” Carl gestures at Negan a bit widely with his spoon and glances at Dwight for help, “what’s the word?”

It is undeniably the worst thing he can do. His mother usually corrects him, snaps at him over his memory and his laziness in his former studies, but his father had always been there with a suggested word at hand and a curl to his bearded mouth. He’s surprised that he does not miss either.

Unfortunately, the two pirates aren’t much help, both just blinking at Carl, though not unkindly. They both seem to be giving him the time to think over his words and figure out what it is he wants to say. They’ve a few words in their own heads that, if pressed, they’ll suggest, ranging from irritating to charming.

“Animated?” He spoons up some of his beans, shaking his head. “No, not that.” He chews thoughtfully on his food and things. Snapping his fingers he swallows and points at Negan. “Verbose.”

Negan hums in understanding around his next bite, nodding. “Ah, well. Excuse me for being a bit tired. I may have pushed myself a bit much today helping with some of the rigging, and then there’s the…” He stops to take a bite, his eyes flicking to the log book he’d been writing in.

“Your shoulder?” Dwight asks, brow furrowing in concern. “I told you not to strain it.”

Negan waves his hand dismissively in the air between them. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”

“You know, for a pirate,” Carl points out, “you’re not a great liar.”

He doesn’t reach for the book for he knows that he won’t be able to process the nuances of its contents or it will give him a headache to look at. He won’t feel bad about the shoulder either, he thinks the wound is much deserved and Negan is awfully lucky to have kept the arm this far.

In spite of this Carl still drops his spoon to his bowl and opens his coat, unbuttoning the pocket he had pulled his linseed oil from earlier. “I’ll make you a trade hm?”

“A trade?” Negan’s eyebrows go up, eyes shining with curiosity. He leans forward ever so slightly, clasping his hands together on his desk. “A trade for what now?”

Dwight watches apprehensively, carefully setting his empty bowl down and taking a swig of his ale.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Carl says, pulling a vial that’s a different shape and stopper than the linseed oil from his pocket. “And I’ll give you this to massage into your arm at night.”

He twists the vial to show the small label on the side done in his own unsteady hand. Mint oil. Good for all manner of aches and pains and much safer to be near a cut than some of the pepper extracts he has.

Negan looks at the bottle for a moment before leaning back and smiling. “While that’s a mighty fine thing you have there, you don’t need to be concerned about what’s ’going on’.” He shakes his head, taking his mug and swirling his ale around in it. “It’s a no deal from me.”

“Hm.” Carl voices, twisting the long slim vial through his fingers, it flips between each finger eye-catchingly, and he nudges his still half-full bowl of beans towards Dwight.

“I find myself terribly picky today it seems and I can still taste the pickling,” Carl says easily. “Please, don’t let this go to waste.”

He can imagine very few things that you can put in a book that would worry a person. He has his own suspicions especially with how lanky both men are in spite of their inherent strength. The loss of Negan’s quartermaster could very well have something to do with it.

Dwight nudges the bowl back towards Carl with a shake of his head. “I’d really rather you eat it,” he says, soft worry in his voice. He saw how slight Carl’s arms were today when he rolled up his sleeves to work. He’s not sure how the kid manages to stand with the weight of his coat on him.

“A shame that,” Carl comments, not even reaching for the bowl. “I fear that eating it will strike me with nausea, and it will just be wasted anyway.”

Negan sighs, rubbing at his temples to ward off the impending headache he can feel coming on. He hopes it’s just from dealing with everything and not a sign that a storm is approaching. “Dwight, just eat it,” he snaps, knowing he can’t command it of Carl despite the fact that he also wishes it was Carl consuming the food. Negan’s sure that the boy will just be obstinate to anything he says, so why try?

“Captain?” Dwight’s concern switches to Negan, a frown tugging at his lips. Perhaps he should not have suggested dinner together without consulting with Negan first. He does hate when he’s in a mood.

“It seems,” Carl says standing and taking his ale in hand, with his other flat on the desk, “that I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

He sips the ale and steps away from the desk, hoping that the mint oil he has slipped behind Negan’s bowl will at least be used for the man’s clear headache. He starts making his way towards the door. “I have a hammock in the brig calling my name.”

“Yes… Good night, Carl,” Dwight says distractedly, standing from his own chair. Negan says nothing, even as Dwight rounds the desk to stand beside him. He leans down, taking Negan’s face in hand and presses their foreheads together, drawing a long sigh from Negan as the captain closes his eyes at the familiar touch.

~

Carl lays in the brig until he hears the ship go mostly quiet around him, empty mug dangling from his fingers. It is a good excuse if he’s caught in the kitchen when he isn’t supposed to be. Shane had told him once that a ship can have an excellent captain, a five star crew, and a cook who’s been on the sea a thousand times but the absence of a quartermaster or a first mate could be its undoing.

Once he deems it safe, he creeps out of the brig, mug in hand and makes his way near silently to the kitchen. There’s a crewman in the crows nest keeping watch but he’s looking out towards sea, not down at the deck. The kitchen is empty aside from the cook, snoozing in his own hammock, and his snores seem to mask the minute sounds that Carl makes as he picks his way through the kitchen.

The key on the cooks throat is most certainly to the hatch containing the food store, but Carl is skilled with more than stabbing when it comes to his dagger. It takes the finagling of his dagger and a fork to pop the latch but it comes open easy enough. He counts his way through food storage, noting the bare shelves and brainstorming each meal the cook could make.

Even with two less mouths than they started this journey at, it's clear that some of the ingredients haven’t been rationed correctly. They aren’t dangerously low, and would likely only run out a day or so before they make port if Dwight was right about the time period. It’s clear that even one extra meal not from these stores would help extend what they have.

With a nod to himself, Carl leaves, locking the hatch and making his way back to the brig.

 

 

Chapter 5

Summary:

Culture shock can cause some interesting miscommunication.

Notes:

R: Happy Sunday everyone! So glad people are enjoying our story so much!! Please let us know what you think about this chapter in the comments we would LOVE to hear from you!

 

Content warning for this chapter: Miscommunication (resolved by the end), mention of minor character death, and Carl has a panic attack/break down

 

It’s a bit later in the morning than usual when Carl gets his wake up call. This day, it’s Dwight descending down into the brig with breakfast in hand.

“So this is what you meant,” he says, examining the hammock with a nod of approval. “Nice. Probably good to have your own space for the time being too.”

As he holds out the bowl and mug to Carl, Dwight looks a little more rumpled than usual. His shirt not quite tucked in, collar open and only half hiding the teeth marks and bruises trailing along the side of his neck.

Images float through Carl’s mind unbidden, his imagination taking the sight of the marks on the first mate’s throat and going wild. He feels abruptly as if he cannot breathe imagining the captain’s mouth set upon Dwight’s throat in such a way.

Carl reaches up and takes his cravat knot in his fingers, loosing it and pulling the long strip of fabric off. He trades it for the bowl Dwight holds out and averts his gaze slightly.

“I’m going to guess, Master Dwight, that you hadn’t stopped to look in the mirror on your way out this morning.”

“Huh?” Dwight looks to the soft fabric in his hand, running his thumb over it in awe. He’s never felt such fine cloth. It almost feels illegal for him to be touching it. Is this what everything Carl is wearing feels like?

“I don’t understand, lad,” he says, looking between the fabric and Carl.

The soft laugh that escapes Carl at least distracts him from the shiver that that silly word provokes. Lad, a word he’s heard a hundred times and never reacted to before. He gets to his feet, trading the bowl once again and taking the fine gold fabric between his fingers once more.

Stepping close, far too close, Carl tips up on his toes and reaches behind Dwight, threading the cloth around his shirt collar. He does not tie it like a cravat but instead like the kerchiefs he’s seen a few other sailors wear in the past. Dropping back to his heels, Carl buttons one of Dwight’s buttons and pats his chest before taking up the bowl once more.

“Terribly territorial, that man,” he comments, lifting the spoon. His mind flashes once again to Negan, wondering how the captain will feel seeing the golden cloth concealing his marks and a heat sparks low in his gut.

Dwight’s gone pink from his neck to his ears, looking down at himself and trying to see Carl’s cravat now on him, understanding what Carl has covered up. He breathes out shakily, reaching to run his fingers over the silky tie. “That he is. He… He’s not going to like this, you know that?” Dwight swallows, debating on if he should just yank it off and throw it back at Carl or see how this all plays out. He feels like a buoy being pulled between two opposite currents.

“Then he should know better than to put you in such danger,” Carl snaps unthinking. He swallows, looking completely to his bowl as he takes the proffered mug and focuses on filling his belly.

He of course, completely misses the man’s reaction as he slips around him, taking his breakfast towards the deck where he can eat in the sun.

The morning crew mills about with yawns and soft chatting. A few men look to Carl as he passes. A couple even wave.

There’s a significant presence missing, Negan nowhere to be seen.

Dwight appears a few minutes later, taking his place at the helm. Carl’s tie around his collar is pulled a little looser, but it’s still covering all of Negan’s marks. There’s a nervous twitch to Dwight as he scans the deck below, trying to keep his sights off Carl for the time being.

Carl finishes his breakfast quickly and returns his dishes to the kitchen before gathering all his courage and approaching the helm.

“Master Dwight, I wonder terribly when the hull was last scraped off?” he asks carefully, looking more to where he can attach the rope swing to the rails than the man.

“Uh…” Dwight’s a bit taken aback by the question, not expecting that to be the first thing Carl says to him after their previous exchange. “Not for a couple months now, I suppose. Would have been the last time we made a stop at a neutral port.”

“Ah brilliant,” Carl decides, shedding his coat out from under his belts and laying it across the bannister in front of Dwight. It is heavy enough it won’t be taken by any wind and it’s to his belief that the first mate will keep an eye on it for him.

“The sea is remarkably calm today, I believe I’ll make that my job, if you’re amiable.” Quite frankly, he doesn’t expect he’ll allow Dwight to argue against him anyway and for some reason the first mate seems awfully tense anyhow.

“I, well…” Once again, Dwight is reminded at how slight Carl is seeing him without his coat adding extra padding on. The fine golden cloth around his neck is beginning to feel like an expensive noose. He swallows thickly. “You’ve done it before? Know how to tether yourself?”

“Of course I have,” Carl hums, pushing his sleeves up to where the ruffled ends clutch around his upper forearms rather than his wrists. “One of the crewmen has already shown me where you keep the supplies.”

He’s also gathered two buckets to hang on either side of the swing. He just knows well enough not to go casting himself off the side of the boat without telling the helmsman.

Dwight doesn’t really have any argument, so he just nods and acquiesces. It’s a normal job, it’s just a weird one to pick. “Alright, well… Be careful. Double check all your knots, and start on the starboard side, if you would.” He reaches out and places his palm to the top of Carl’s head in a soft show of approval. They’d need to get Carl a hat if he was going to keep spending his time outside like this.

Carl is imminently thankful that he keeps his hair so tightly pulled back, because if Dwight were to run his fingers through it and touch the skin of his scalp he might drop like a weight right here.

“No promises that I’ll finish,” he says, pulling away smoothly and not looking at the man. “Lucille is a large and beautiful craft, and I am only one person.” He escapes the quarterdeck to meet the crewman that had gathered the tether swing and the scraping knives for him.

Dwight watches him go, laughing softly at the thought of Carl even completing half of the hull. What grand ideas he has.

He returns to his duty, keeping watch over the ship and also Carl’s coat.

Scraping the side of a ship is familiar to Carl. It is a job he can easily get lost in the familiarity of, most of the barnacles and cling-ons being lost to the waves as he slowly makes his way across the first stretch of ship. He hums softly as he works, keeping his lips pinched so that he doesn’t forget himself and begin singing absently.

His hands will definitely be sore after a day of this but he finds himself caring little. With the sun on him and the foam of the sea tickling his skin he has little complaints. The buckets he brought fill slowly as well and he contends himself with that, after all if pirates are more picky than fishermen they certainly cannot roll their eyes over his taste in eggs.

~

Finally emerging from his cabin around midafternoon, Negan has his coat thrown over his shoulders like a cape and smells of mint. He makes his way to the helm to find Dwight and the helmsman speaking quietly.

“How’s our heading?”

“Still on course, captain,” says the helmsman, Peter. “Lady Luck is on our side with the nice weather and strong breeze.”

“Good.” Negan knocks on the wooden railing out of superstition before looking to Dwight. He tilts his head, silently pulling him a little bit away from the helmsman.

“Yes, sir?” Dwight keeps his hands clasped behind his back, fingers fidgeting together.

“How’s the crew taken to the smaller portions?” Negan asks quietly, scanning out over the deck.

“Don’t think they’ve noticed it to be honest, and if they have, no one’s said anything.”

“Good. If they do, just tell them the truth. It’s only until we reach The Kingdom and can restock.”

“Yes, sir.”

Looking about again, Negan frowns as he notices someone missing. “Where’s our newest member then?”

“Ah, he’s…” Dwight rubs at his scarred face before pointing to the rigging attached to Carl’s swing. “He wanted to scrape barnacles.”

Negan snorts, watching the ropes move gently over the side of the boat. “Alright. Whatever gets him off, I guess.” He turns back to Dwight, eyes finally catching on the gold kerchief. He frowns, reaching out to feel the fabric as Dwight goes stiff. “Perhaps there’s more than one thing that gets him off.”

“Negan, it’s not like that,” Dwight says, biting his lip. “I think he may have a bit of a fancy with me, but you know I’d never.”

Negan hums low, trailing his fingers along the cloth up to Dwight’s neck. He slips them under Dwight’s collar, pressing hard against the bruised and bitten skin. Dwight whines softly, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth. “He covered my marks. You let him. You know I’d let you fuck around with anyone if you wanted, but this… You replacing me for youth? Am I not enough for you anymore, Master Dwight?”

“Negan, please. That’s not what this is. He just… Put it on me, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by taking it off.”

“No, but you’ll hurt mine. I see how it is.” Negan scoffs, pulling his hand away like Dwight burned him. He turns and stalks away, leaving Dwight reeling in his spot.

The helmsman lets out a low whistle from behind him. “You’ve got yourself in some deep shit, huh?”

Dwight just groans and considers flinging himself off the helm.

~

Carl pulls himself to the deck when both buckets are overflowing. He carefully cleans the scraping knives and bundles the tethers and swing properly, leaving them where the crewman had told him to for the man to gather later.

Dwight seems busy speaking to the helmsman, so Carl takes his two buckets straight towards the captain’s quarters. With his hands full he has to sort of nudge the handle down and use his hip to push into the room, looking down at the floor so he doesn’t spill anything and cause a mess as he enters.

“What makes you think you can just continually enter my quarters without permission?” Negan has his back to the door, standing at his window and watching the rolling foam of the wake. His voice is heavy and dark, electricity on his tongue ready to snap.

“Door’s unlocked,” Carl points out, figuring the man is grumpy because he’s hungry. After all, he clearly had a good night so Carl can’t fathom any other reason. “I have something for you.”

He carefully sets the buckets down, far enough away from the rug for safety and shakes his arms out rolling his shoulders. He’s certainly going to be sore but it might be worth it if they can all eat something a little more than this morning.

Negan doesn’t want to turn around. Doesn’t want to give Carl the satisfaction of looking at whatever it is he’s brought. He wants to scream at him to get the fuck out of his cabin, get the fuck off his boat, and get the fuck away from him.

It’s only with great effort that he stills his shaking fists and turns silently to look at what Carl has brought. He is not ready for the heart pounding image of Carl, sun kissed and sea damp, wearing less clothing than Negan has ever seen him in before. Most of his hair is still tied back, but what’s not is curling at the ends around his face, framing it like a masterpiece.

The sight makes him furious, stomach roiling in lustful rage. Negan has to bite his tongue so hard to keep from growling that he can taste iron.

His eyes fall to the buckets of barnacles at Carl’s feet, and he sneers. “Why the fuck would I want those?”

“Oh honestly, how long have you been a pirate?” Carl questions and gestures to the buckets. “These little beasties are gooseneck barnacles. If we steam them we can crack them open and eat the meat like clams.”

Carl is desperately trying to contain his annoyance at the pirate’s rudeness. Clearly something is wrong but last time Carl asked what was wrong he was resolutely brushed off. He crosses his arm and says calmly, “They’re delicious and there’s plenty to go around.”

Fucking hell, the kid is solving their food shortage problem. Did Dwight spill that information to him when they were together? Why else would Carl be so adamant about this?

It somehow makes Negan even more angry to think that Carl found a solution when he could not. He grits his teeth and turns back to his window, trying to keep his breathing under control. He knows he should thank Carl, praise him for the expert idea, but he can’t. Not right now. Not while his thoughts are plagued with the image of his loyal first mate wearing Carl’s mark instead of Negan’s.

The imagined knife in his heart hurts worse than the one in his shoulder ever did.

“Get them off my floor and to the kitchen then,” he growls, glaring at his reflection in the window.

Carl takes a deep breath and sighs, if anything the barnacles can wait to be cooked until tomorrow and clearly he’s done something wrong. He steps around the buckets and makes his way over to Negan, giving the man a wide enough berth that it would be a little difficult to just lash out easily.

He leans back against the tiny slip of wall between two of the large windows and crosses his arms looking up at the man. “Alright. What did I do? Is this about me sneaking into the kitchen to count your supplies?”

He can smell mint this close and something pleased curls behind his ribs at the idea that the pirate actually used the oil.

“Get away from me,” Negan snaps, hackles raising. He doesn’t want to get physical with Carl, knows he can’t win a fight with the headspace he’s in right now, but also because if he goads Carl into hurting him their agreement would be void. Though it’s still doubtful that Carl believes Negan will uphold it anyway.

When Carl’s words sink in, Negan realizes that Dwight was at least innocent in one respect. The others were yet to be determined.

Carl, for some ungodly reason, thinks about his mother. She hated that she could never get his father to yell back at her, and his father was no better bottling everything up until he broke down. He doesn’t know why it comes to mind, he and Negan are in no way involved after all, but clearly the man is bottling something up.

“If I walk away, is it going to help? Or are you going to bottle it up until it comes out worse?” Carl asks softly. And, oh, he hates that actually, he sounds like some silly girl in those stories his mother reads.

Negan lets out a bitter laugh, caught off guard by Carl’s words. Was he really trying to help when he was the cause of this?

“Why do you have to stick your fucking nose into everything? Can’t you just follow orders?” He sets his glare onto Carl, wishing it were hot enough to set him on fire. “Or are you to used to giving them yourself to all your servants who wait on you hand and foot? Too used to being a spoiled rich kid who gets everything he wants, you have to take other’s stuff too, huh? Crossing boundaries you have no right being anywhere near, and still coming in here to shove it all in my fucking face.” Negan’s hands raise like he wants to grab Carl, shaking with rage, but he turns with a growl and moves away from him. “Just get the fuck out!”

It hits Carl that his well off clothes and accent have put him at an advantage of Negan never possibly guessing who his family might be without seeing their faces. He almost laughs and then Negan lifts his hands, to do what Carl doesn’t know, but he suddenly wants to push right into the angered pirate’s space.

“I’m not your crew, I don’t take your orders,” Carl reminds carefully. “As for taking things from you, well you’re going to have to clear that up for me because where I’m standing I’m lost.”

“How can you not-!” Negan’s shout turns into a yell turns into the shattering of a rum bottle as he picks it up from his side table and hurls it against the opposite wall. He’s panting heavily, feeling his emotions waging a war in his chest. His eyes sting, hot tears pressing against the backs of them. He blinks them away before they can fall.

And then suddenly, Negan seems to deflate. The rage turns cold, apathy taking over. He sniffs softly and rubs at his nose. “Why don’t you go ask Master Dwight? He can clear shit up for you.”

Carl flinches, violently at the shattering of glass and he’s by far more glad that Negan has turned away from him and cannot see it than he wants to be.

Confusion swarms his mind for only a moment before realization strikes and a laugh, mirthless and shocked, escapes him like a gasp of air. “This is about the cravat?!”

Carl stops leaning against the wall, marching over to Negan, and propping his hands on the desk not but inches from the other man. “Let me get this straight. I stab you, I kill three of your men, and you flirt with me? But the second I show an ounce of concern for a man you clearly hold in high regard, you become so angry you start to break things?”

Negan moves away again, unable to know what he’ll do if he’s too close to Carl. He doesn’t bother to remind Carl that he was locked up while Negan dealt with his deadly actions, so he has no idea how Negan reacted. He could have broken a hundred bottles, and Carl would be none the wiser.

He didn’t, of course, but he also had Dwight by his side during the ordeal, keeping him level headed. Helping him through it. Now, though… Well, that was the issue now wasn’t it.

“Myself, I can heal. Men, I can replace,” he says, rubbing at his chest where his heart aches. “But, cheating… disloyalty…” He sighs and shakes his head. “What fucking concern were you showing by replacing my claim with yours? Do you…” Negan suddenly looks at Carl, eyes wide, preconceived embarrassment flooding his veins. “Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

“Cheating- disloy- replacing- claim!?” Carl stammers confused. He knows his face is doing something sharply uncontrolled, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth opening wordlessly as he tries to form words to voice is utter and absolute befuddlement. “What are you talking about?”

Carl stands up straight and waves his hands in a bit of a slashing motion. “Scratch that, no, what? What is it that you think that I’ve done? Speak plainly, Negan, because clearly I’m just as slow as they always claimed.”

“Oh, Jesus and Mary and Joseph and Buddha and Shiva.” All the fight goes out of Negan as he practically falls into his chair, face in his hands. Lord, he has made a fool of himself. He can’t help the manic laughter that bubbles up inside, spilling out behind his hands. “Fuck, fucking, fuck.” This whole situation is the biggest misunderstanding, and he’s at the center of it.

Apologies to Dwight are already forming in his head as he drops his hands to look at Carl. “Obviously, we both think something different has happened here,” he starts, trying to shake off the laughter with a deep breath. “What I- What I thought, was that- Well, I assume first of all you saw my marks on Dwight, yes?” He gestures to his own neck in reference, shifting his coat off his shoulders so that his shirt collar falls open. They’re smaller than the ones on Dwight, but Negan has some matching red marks spattered about his neck. “They’re a show of our claim on each other. To be proudly shown off. So, when he had them covered… and had your claim on show instead…”

“God,” Carl’s voice shakes and he has to lock his knees because he’s pretty sure they’re going to come out from under him and he’s just going to be crumpled on Negan's floor like a knocked over stack of his sister's blocks. “You don’t know what they’re doing to us on land do you?”

Carl drags his hands across his face hardly even realizing he’s referred to himself in this. “For the sin of buggary, for the crime of it, even if it can’t be proven. I’ve seen the church whip men until they’re nothing but blood and bone, I’ve seen men get beaten to death in the street by their neighbors. I’ve seen men hung, and if they didn’t die immediately they were left up there to die slowly.”

He tucks his chin down hugging his arms across his chest. “Negan, that’s without proof.”

“Carl… Did you forget that we’re pirates?” A breath of a laugh passes through his lips, brows coming together. He has the urge to reach out and draw Carl in, offer some sort of comfort, but he’s unsure if it would be welcomed or not. “They’re doing all of that and more to us already.“

Carl feels like he’s going to take a breath and he’s not going to stop breathing until he falls over. “I need to-”

He about faces, blames the sway in his gait on the movement of the ship on the ocean. “He can keep it- It wasn’t- I’m not. Just, if you hate it so much, get him something for port.”

He moves towards the door, not even bothering to grab the buckets because he cannot go to the kitchen right now when he’s about to lose his mind.

“Hey, hey! Wait now!”

Negan is up, chair scraping back, and sprinting to catch Carl before he can leave. He barely manages to miss kicking a barnacle bucket before grasping hold of Carl’s arm. “Carl, stop. C’mon. Take a deep breath. Focus on me, hey?”

Carl takes in a deep, wet sounding breath. His eyes flicker to the hand wrapped around his arm. It wraps all the way around his arm at the widest part of his bicep and he lets out a hysterical little giggle that doesn’t help his breathing situation at all.

“You should- I- you… Let me leave.” Oh, his voice isn’t very steady. that’s not good at all.

“Carl, I don’t want you going out there like this. Don’t need all those eyes on you. Let’s just sit you down, okay?” As gently as he can, Negan encourages Carl to drop right down and sit on the floor. He kneels next to him, clasping Carl’s hands in his. “Breathe, Carl. Breathe.”

So Carl takes a breath and it comes out of him like a sob which is so fucking stupid because not a few days ago he was about to kill this man and now he’s sitting on his floor. Now he’s sitting on his floor just about crying when not even his family has seen him cry since childhood. All because of some stupid cravat, just like any other in his closet all picked out because he likes the silky fabric on his skin.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s alright. Let it out, hun. I gotcha.” God, Negan is such a sucker for tears, especially on beautiful boys. He’s not entirely certain why Carl’s reaction to what he said is so extreme, but he knows to wait to ask until his episode is over. For now, he can be a steady rock for Carl to focus on as he comes back down to himself.

Carl drags his hands away so that he can curl his whole body in around them and shove his head between his knees trying to breathe. He can’t fucking breathe at all and he’s made himself as small as he can, but there’s no hiding here like he could have down in the dark damp of the brig if Negan would have just let him go.

“He killed him,” Carl says, barely a whisper, barely a hiccup between his panicky breaths. He’d tried to forget. He’d tried desperately to forget, but it’s still there in his head like an infection.

Negan inches closer, resting his large hand on Carl’s back and rubbing in slow circles. How many times has he done this for crew, for friends? Green behind the ears when it comes to the horror of the sea. To the horror of the world.

“That’s not right,” Carl reminds himself, but he doesn’t want to remember at all. There’s a hand on him, large and comforting and Carl needs to leave. None of this was supposed to go this way.

“Shh, Carl. It’s okay. You’re safe. I promise.” Negan isn’t sure what Carl needs to hear, so he’s just saying any and everything that comes to mind, hoping something sticks.

Carl doesn’t even hear him, too caught up in remembering what he was trying to forget. “It was me.”

“Carl, hey. Look at me. What are you sayin’?” Negan doesn’t stop the circles his hand is going in on Carl’s back, but he does try tugging gently at his elbow. He wants to see Carl’s face, figure out what he’s mumbling about.

“He was just going to leave him there,” Carl mumbles, tears still flooding down his face as something pulls at him. “Hanging.”

“Oh, lord.” Negan caught that bit, putting some of the pieces together. “You’re too young for all this.” He clicks his tongue as he shakes his head, petting his free hand over Carl’s head when he couldn’t get him to look up.

“I couldn’t leave him like that,” Carl confesses, shoving his hands against his eyes to stop the tears or erase the images he wishes he could forget. “I had to.”

“You did the right thing, lad,” Negan murmurs into Carl’s ear, throwing caution to the wind and wrapping his arms around Carl to draw him into his chest. “You did him a mercy. It’s okay. He ain’t hurtin’ anymore.”

Carl goes slack, just like he did that night only no one is screaming at him for stealing their gun or associating with the wrong sort. He just feels wrung out, empty. He was never supposed to be here for this long. He was never supposed to survive this.

“I gotcha.” Pressing his cheek to Carl’s head, Negan holds him tight, rocking gently with the sway of the boat. He sighs, wondering how they got here. Life works in mysterious ways.

He starts to hum softly, a lullaby he’s always known the tune to but never the words. It’s melancholy but beautiful, just like the boy in his arms.

“You need to tell him you’re okay,” Carl mumbles, head feeling like it’s shoved full of rocks and eyes burning the way his chest is. “He’s probably worried about you.”

“Hm? You talking to me now?” Negan smiles softly, gently pressing his lips to Carl’s hair. “I’ll talk to him. It’s okay. He’ll understand. I’ll apologize. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

Carl shoves weakly at the man, but his arms are killing him from his laborious day and his head is so heavy he just ends up mushing his face against the man’s chest. “I never… told him.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Negan says quietly, shifting Carl in his arms so he can scoop the boy and stand up. He’s a little taken aback by how light Carl is, especially without his coat. Walking to his bed, he lays Carl down on the mattress, kneeling on the floor again so he can be eye level with him as he runs a hand over his face. “Stay here. Rest. Can you do that for me?”

If he were in such a place for more emotions right now Carl knows he would be having many about being picked up and moved so easily. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of the soft mattress underneath him even as his eyelids get heavy again. “I can’t be the reason you fight again.”

“Shh. It’s okay. I’ll explain it to him. Go to sleep, Carl.” Negan can’t even begin to wonder how exhausted Carl must be after that whole ordeal. It was exhausting just watching him.

Negan starts to hum again, running the backs of his fingers gently over Carl’s cheek, wiping away the tear tracks. He wishes he could go back in time and find who did this to Carl, run them through with his sword. No one deserves this grief, especially not one so young.

Carl doesn’t have the energy to fight him, and isn’t that something. He doesn’t remember the last time he didn’t want to fight someone. He drifts, leaning into the touch and nodding off.

Chapter 6

Summary:

Talks are had and misunderstandings are resolved.

Notes:

R: This chapter has a lot of fun interaction between Negan and Dwight I think ☺️☺️ Enjoy!

“Dwight… Can I talk to you?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

Dwight scrubs harder at the spot on the floor, unsure if it’s actually a stain or just a knot in the wood. Whatever it is, he’ll scrub it until Negan leaves or his fingers fall off. Whichever comes first.

“Dwight, please. I fucked up. I know that now. The situation wasn’t what I thought it was.” Negan fidgets where he stands over Dwight, trying not to look meek to the other crewmen around them, but trying not to impose over Dwight.

“Oh, really?!” Huffing, Dwight chucks his scrub brush into his bucket of soapy water and stands up. He crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot, giving Negan an ‘I’m waiting’ look. Carl’s fabric has come undone slightly from all his movement, but it’s still on and keeping his collar closed.

“Just… Come with me.”

Dwight rolls his eyes but follows Negan into his cabin. He’s about to shout when he sees a familiar form asleep in Negan’s bed. The fuck? “What… Did you bring me in here to brag?”

Waving his hands quickly in front of him, Negan shakes his head. “No, no. Nothing happened. Nothing like that.” He sighs. “Look, I found out why he…” He gestures to the golden kerchief. “He wasn’t trying to steal you from me, mark you as his like I thought he was. Kid was terrified you were gonna get arrested when we made port because of the ‘evidence’.”

“Evidence? Evidence of what?”

“Relations between two men.” Negan points back and forth between them, watching Dwight’s face pinch in confusion.

“He did mention something about you putting me in danger because of the marks,” Dwight muses, absently raising his hand up to caress his neck and shoulder where they are. “I didn’t get it at the time, but… I don’t understand. Why? We’d be more likely to be arrested for piracy way before sodomy.”

“He’s got some kind of trauma with it.” Negan runs his fingers through his hair, scratching at the back of his head. “Seems like Carl swings towards men as well, and someone around him wasn’t too keen with it. I think someone very close to him got the noose for it, but… You know how those ropes don’t always kill ya from the initial drop?”

Dwight nods, solemnly silent.

“Carl finished off the job, and it’s royally fucked him up.”

“Well, yeah. I would think it might.” Dwight lets out a breath, looking to Carl with sympathy swimming in his eyes. They’ve all lost friends to the hangman, but to lose a lover, to put them out of misery… Dwight can’t even imagine. “Doesn’t explain why he’s in your bed.”

“Ah.” Negan has the gall to look sheepish, tapping the toe of his boot on the floor. “He panicked thinking about his trauma. Took the wind right out of his sails. Poor thing basically collapsed, so I set him up there. Figured it was the least I could do.”

Dwight hums, nodding as he lets all this new knowledge sink it. He looks over when Negan takes a step closer.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he says softly, taking Dwight’s hand and squeezing it. “I should’a heard you out, but I let my head get the best of me.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Dwight agrees, watching Negan shrink away. He reaches out and draws Negan back in. “But, I also knew how you’d see it, and could have taken it off, but I just didn’t. So… I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to mislead you.”

Wrapping his arms around Dwight’s waist, Negan pulls him in close and presses their foreheads together. He breathes in the salt and the sun and something so distinctly Dwight that he loves so much. “So… Are we good?”

“Yeah, you idiot. We’re good.”

Negan grins and leans in, capturing a warm kiss from Dwight’s lips.

~

Carl sleeps on. Slightly fevered dreams of his family, of Shane, and of Patrick haunt him. Even in his sleep his hand finds the hilt of his dagger, a small comfort in such a time.

He thinks he hears someone speaking at some point, but he’s too deep to rouse himself at that point.

When he finally pulls himself from the clutches of sleep, it’s dimmer in the room. Out Negan’s window the sun is painting the horizon deep reds as it dips behind the sea. There’s an odd scratching sound nearby and Carl leans up, clutching his aching head with a groan.

“He awakens.”

Finishing the sentence he was on in his journal, Negan lifts the pen from paper and gazes over at Carl from overtop his glasses perched on his nose. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like someone tried to drown me again,” Carl mumbles, stumbling as he gets to his feet. His voice is raspy and his gait is the furthest from even. “Where’d I leave my coat?” he asks himself. With Dwight. He’s going to have to go hunt the damn thing down half miserable.

Negan closes his book and lays his pen down. “Hey, sit down if you’re still off kilter. Don’t need you falling over around here.” He taps his desk and then points to one of the chairs across from it. The familiar filigree is draped over the back.“Your coat is there by the way. Dwight brought it for ya.”

“Thank Christ,” Carl groans, immediately burying his hands in the folds of the coat. His fingers search out one of the many inner pockets. All of the vials are different and his touch finds a stopper with a swirl carved into it easily.

He collapses in the chair with a soft groan. Thumbing out the stopper, Carl dabs his fingers with some of the rosemary oil. Tracing his slick fingers against his temples and under his nose, he wishes the scent would help faster but it’s no true medicine.

“You’ve got a whole apothecary in that thing, huh?” Negan says as he watches with interest, trying not to let Carl’s shiny and wet fingers make him think of anything else. He nudges the mint concoction still on his desk towards Carl, the bottle about half empty now. “You want this one back? It really worked nicely. I thank you for it.”

“Keep it,” Carl mumbles, tugging his sleeves down and curling his arms together so that he can lay his head down against the desk and just breathe until the ache subsides. “I have another one.”

“Alright.” Negan starts writing in his journal again, the scratch of his pen soft in the warm silence. “You can use the bed again if you need it. Might be a tad more comfortable than the desk.”

“I just need to breathe,” Carl mutters. Half of him doesn’t think he can make it back to the bed and the other half of him is skin crawling thinking he’s been sleeping in a bed that two men share that he almost ruined. “I’m going to hurl myself into the ocean.”

Negan snorts and continues writing.

“I want to apologize for earlier,” he says very softly after a moment, turning a page in his journal. “I overreacted. Lost my head. Horrible qualities for a captain, I’m aware. So, I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize to me,” Carl says miserably.

He wants to lock himself back up or maybe hand Negan his dagger and point right as his shoulder and say ‘fairs fair’. Neither of those things are helpful in this moment though so he raises his red, aching eyes to the man and drops his chin on his crossed arms.

“It was just a misunderstanding. Neither of us even got stabbed.”

Negan laughs softly, glancing up at Carl. “Still time for that,” he says with a bounce of his eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood the only way he knows how; innuendos.

“If you want to stab me now’s the time,” Carl huffs tiredly, pulling his dagger and shoving it across the desktop. It skitters, the Grimes crest on the pommel facing Negan. Briefly, he wonders first what in the world he’s doing, but next if Negan will keep his specs on while he does it… that is if he chooses to do it.

Blinking at the dagger in shock for a moment, Negan laughs again, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant,” he says, starting to pen at the page again, eyes on the crest in front of him. “Was thinking about a different… dagger, if you catch my drift.” His eyes flick to Carl before back to the knife in front of him. This one has already been in him. He’d rather it not be again.

“I really, really don’t understand you,” Carl sighs, sitting up to tug his coat off the back of the chair. The ache behind is eyes is thankfully beginning to wane.

He tugs it on, situating it under his belts once more. Leaning across the desk again, he plucks the dagger up, flipping it in the air and catching it the correct way to sheath it like second nature.

“Honestly one minute you’re ready to fight me because I’ve unknowingly propositioned your first mate somehow,” he keeps his voice low, throat still raspy and sore. “And the next you’re flirting with me.”

“Mm…” Negan turns the page in his book and taps the end of his pen against it. “Right, well. How do I explain this?” He leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers together. “Dwight and I are not exclusive. We can each fuck other people if we want.” He twists a hand in the air. “Usually, we talk about it beforehand, which I think is part of the reason I lashed out earlier. But, it was mostly because of the way he was covering what I gave him with what you gave him.” He sighs and rubs at his temples. “My possessiveness clouded my mind.”

“You are just…” Carl makes frustrated motion trying desperately to think rather than flush, halfway too exhausted to be embarrassed by such intimate information, “the most perplexing man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

His head falls back against the back of the chair and he can feel how loose his ponytail has become. “I’m too hungry to try and understand this.”

Negan laughs again, removing his glasses and closing his book. “You obviously haven’t met too many pirates. A lot of us are very free with our affections.” He bites gently on the temples of his glasses, oral fixation getting the best of him as his eyes land on the exposed skin of Carl’s throat. “Dwight will be back with dinner soon. I hear we’re having barnacles.”

Carl lets out a pitiful little moan at the idea of food. He attempts to use it as a distraction for his desperate longing for such freedoms. “Bravo, I will have to thank him for his foresight.”

“I think we have you to thank for gathering our meal,” Negan says, feeling his blood rush at the soft sound Carl let slip. Fuck. There’s no way Carl knows what he’s doing to Negan. “I was blind to your efforts earlier. I’m sure the whole crew appreciates it.”

“I’ve no idea what you refer to,” Carl says evenly, lifting his head to give Negan a hard look. “The appreciation of your crew should go to the efforts of your first mate, who directed me to such a job. Don’t you agree?”

He won’t be solving the food issue at all if the crewmen refuse to eat because the food comes from the person who’s stabbed their captain and killed three of their mates.

Negan raises an eyebrow at Carl, the end of his glasses still between his teeth as he contemplates. “Yes,” he says slowly. “I suppose you’re right.”

Carl takes in the man’s face, from quirked brow to the way he’s pressed the arm of his specs between his teeth. He swallows heavily and averts his gaze, banishing his thoughts before they can even begin to plague him. And yet all he can think of are the teeth marks along Dwight’s throat and how Negan must have some terrible fixation with putting things in his mouth.

“It happens from time to time,” Carl acknowledges, propping his arm in the rest so that he can lean his temple against his knuckles.

Negan laughs softly, mirth in his eyes.

He sets his glasses down as he hears the handle of the door turn, Dwight pushing his way in balancing three bowls and three mugs on a metal tray. “I hope he wakes- Oh!” He smiles as he sees Carl in the chair, coming over and setting the tray down upon Negan’s desk.

“I see you’re awake. How are you feeling?” Dwight asks, reaching out to press the back of his hand against Carl’s forehead. His shirt is unbuttoned once again, collar open and marks on display, but he still has Carl’s cravat draped around his neck like liquid gold.

Carl tries to contain himself but he truly can’t help leaning into the touch of Dwight’s cool hand against his forehead. His eyes nearly slip closed before they pause on the man who’s joined them. The splay of his collar and the drape of Carl’s cravat seem to only enhance the sight of the bruises on Dwight’s neck, like jewels decorating a lady’s throat.

He clears his throat and averts his gaze. “Better now, thank you.”

“Good,” Dwight says with a sigh, unaware of the hungry look coming from the captain that has nothing to do with the food he just brought in. “Negan told me what happened. I’m so sorry about everything. I should have explained better this morning and prevented the whole thing.” He hands a bowl to Carl and passes one to Negan, jerking to a stop when the captain catches his hand.

“I told you not to blame yourself, love,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of Dwight’s hand before letting it go and taking up his bowl.

Dwight waves him off like it was nothing, though the tips of his ears have gone pink. “I know. I know.” He settles in the chair next to Carl, rubbing at his face.

He should look away, give them their privacy, after all hasn’t he done enough harm? But Carl can’t help but watch the soft caress of Negan’s lips along the back of Dwight’s hand, the one that had just been pressed to Carl’s own skin. Carl tries not to think unhelpful thoughts, and shifts the bowl in his hands.

“I believe it is me who owes you an apology, Master Dwight,” Carl says, setting the bowl on the desk and suddenly regretting putting his coat back on with how warm he feels. “But it seems a bit late.”

He taps the side of the bowl, raising his eyes to the pirate captain as he changes the subject. “Im going to assume you’ve never had these before considering your confusion earlier?”

Negan hums, poking at the bouncy meat with his spoon. “I have, it’s just… been a while.”

“He’s not much into shellfish,” Dwight stage whispers to Carl, digging into his own bowl.

“It just seems odd to eat something that was growin’ on the side of my boat and looks like a prick.”

Carl snorts and shrugs, scooping up a spoonful of rice and barnacle. “Honestly you’re very fussy for a big scary pirate captain.”

“Fussy doesn’t even begin,” Dwight mumbles, earning a look from Negan.

Carl chews and swallows politely not speaking with his mouthful and a pleased hum escapes him at the buttery salty food. “I’ve been told it tastes most like razor crab meat. I’ve never had crab, of course, but if it tastes like this I hope to someday.”

“We can see if there’s any crabs in stock at port. We’ll be refilling our stores there anyway,” Dwight says around a bite.

Negan hums around his own food, nodding, before he sits up a bit straighter and points his spoon at Carl. “Ah, I just remembered. I wanted to prepare you for when we disembark.” Taking a swig of his ale, he clears his throat and leans forward. “I know you were concerned earlier, but I wanted to assure you that where we are going is a pirate port. It’s a place safe for people like us, but…” His eyes catch on the gold swirls of Carl’s coat. “You may need to dress down if you don’t want that coat cut off your back. And stay close to either me or Dwight. I know you can fight, but there’s going to be a lot of people there that are far less nice than us, and you are pretty. Do you understand?”

Carl tilts his head, staring the captain down for a long moment. 'You are pretty'. If that doesn’t haunt Carl for at least the rest of the night he’ll be surprised. “I’m sure I’ll manage, but your concern will be taken into account.”

If Negan is right about this place, and Carl is sure he is based on the fact that he’s likely been there many a time, then Carl will be able to handle it just fine. If anything, he might fit in better, and isn’t that just a kick to the gut?

“Do heed his words, lad,” Dwight says softly, his own eyes scanning Carl like he’s seeing him for the first time. “We might need to outfit you a little. Let your hair down. Rub some dirt on your face.”

Carl cannot hold the shiver that races down his spine at the term of address this time and he prays it goes unnoticed.

“I assure you, Master Dwight, I am well practiced in blending into places I don’t belong,” Carl says evenly, not looking up from his food. “I am not being obstinate.”

“Good, then.”

They fall into a companionable silence as they eat, Negan making a few faces as he bites into his barnacles but eating them nonetheless. He places his empty bowl on the tray, licking his spoon clean, and Dwight stacks his on top.

“Mm. My compliments to the chef. Remind me to give Cook a raise.”

Carl adds his bowl to the stack last, the more pointed eater of the three, and finally takes his ale from the tray. “It was quite good.”

He will give them their privacy in a moment, he just would like to soak in the companionship for a moment longer as he drinks the swill they have been calling ale.

After he’s finished his drink, he stands and puts his mug on the tray, pulling the metal dishes towards him. “I’ll take these back to the kitchen and head to bed I think.”

“Thank you, Carl,” Dwight says with a soft smile and tilt of his head. The gold fabric around his neck reflects in the candle light and makes his blond hair shine.

“Have a good night, lad,” Negan says. “My bed is always open to you if you need it.” He smirks, biting at his lip, but there’s something in his eye that says he’s being kind with his offer. Knows what horrors can befell someone in the night, and what a warm bed can heal.

“Good night,” Carl says, head ducking as he makes his way to the doors. The way Negan says ‘lad’ doesn’t have the same cadence as it does coming from Dwight’s mouth - he hardly needs to be thinking of Dwight’s mouth - but the idea that the captain had caught his reaction to the other pirate saying it puts a quickness to his steps.

He feels both safer and somehow emptier when the door latches shut behind him. Carl decides resolutely to not focus on that either and turns toward the kitchen.

~

“You shouldn’t tease him so.”

“Who’s teasin’ who?” Negan threads the golden cloth through his fingers, pulling hard. Dwight gasps as he falls forward, settling more into Negan’s lap. “Watching you two drove me fuckin’ mad. The way he looks at you.” Negan growls, tugging again to bring Dwight down enough to bury his face into the side of his neck.

“Ah… ‘m sorry. I know he’s more your taste. I’m not doing anything on purpose, I swear.” Wrapping his arms around Negan’s shoulders, Dwight sighs and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Don’t be fuckin’ sorry, Dwight. I’m just whining ‘cause the pretty boy doesn’t like me.”

Dwight laughs softly, smiling against Negan. “I don’t think that’s true. You’re just a little intimidating.”

“Tcch, not to him.” Squeezing Dwight, Negan licks at his salty skin, catching a taste of the silky cloth on his tongue by accident. “Kid ain’t scared of me. He just hates me. For good reason, I guess, but still.”

Shivering, Dwight leans back and takes Negan’s face in his hands. “Just give him some time. We’ve still a bit of a journey to go for him to warm up to you.”

Negan sighs, nuzzling into Dwight’s calloused hands. “If you say so.”

“I do. C’mon now. Take me to bed.”

Chapter 7

Summary:

Welcome to The Kingdom!

Notes:

T: This chapter introduces us to one of my all time favorite settings in the game and if you can’t tell by the banner we get to hang with some more canon characters!!

 

Carl spends the next few days on the water avoiding the two men as best he can. It’s not so obvious as turning and running when he sees them, but rather keeping most of their interactions to mealtimes.

He strikes up a tentative acquaintanceship with Cook in the following days. Hiding away in the kitchen, helping clean up the food store for the upcoming restock, mumbling about how their quartermaster should have used some of the area for fresh fish storage much to Cook’s clear amusement.

If Negan and Dwight notice his fleeting presence in the next days they don’t mention anything. Though, Carl expects they don’t notice because they’re still healing together, enthusiastically if Dwight’s throat is anything to go by, still adorned by the gold of Carl’s own cravat. Another thing Carl does not focus on.

~

“Land ho! Port open!”

The words echo out from the crow’s nest, cheers answering from the crew below. A rousing chorus of song starts up that has the captain nodding his head and humming along as he leans against the banister at the helm and looks out over the sea towards the familiar island.

As much as he loves the sea, Negan can’t deny the pleasures land holds. In this case, food and medicine if his aching shoulder has anything to say about it.

He makes an announcement to the crew, letting them know the plan is to be beached for a week, and anyone who doesn’t make it back to the boat on time will be left behind. He sets up better security watches for the boat (“I swear, if there’s another assassin under my bed when I get back…”), and asks for people to look out for new recruits if they meet anyone who think may fit in with their crew.

By the time he’s done, they’re fairly close to the port. He looks around to find Carl, wanting to make sure he’s ready.

Carl is making a bit of a point to fit in, that is as best he can considering his options. The shirt and pants he had squirreled away in the off chance he had gotten off the ship are thin and were mostly packed into one of the pockets of his coat so that he wouldn’t return home bloody. He’s kept his shirt with the bloody cuffs because it will do him better at this port but he’s changed into the pants as they’re more loose fitting and cover more of his smart boots that have luckily roughened from his time aboard.

His coat is left on the hammock and he flips his long vest inside out to the less decorative velvety side, hooking the clasps in the same moment as he unbuttons the top of his shirt. Tightening his belts to his body rather than leaving room for his coat beneath them, Carl makes his way to the steps.

He has no mirror to go by, but he imagines looking generally a bit unkempt may help as he lets down his hair and scrubs his fingers through the salt stiff locks. What he wouldn’t do for a bath.

“Wow, someone roughs up good,” Negan purrs, appearing beside Carl when he spots him. Really good. Negan’s eyes are drawn to every new aspect of Carl’s new outfit, but especially his loose hair. He can’t help it when he reaches out and tucks some stray strands behind Carl’s ear, letting his fingers trail all the way to Carl’s jaw.

A shot of heat goes right through Carl and he’s distinctly reminded of the many other reasons he’s been avoiding the man. He raises his chin imperiously in Negan’s hold and props a hand on his hip, eyeing the pirate. “You didn’t believe I could.”

“No, no. Never said I didn’t believe. I’m just really impressed how good it looks on you. Like you were made to wear pirate garb.” Negan grins, chucking under Carl’s chin with his knuckle softly. “Do think we need to get you a hat though. Nice little tricorn would suit you.”

He couldn’t tell you why his mouth goes dry at the way Negan taps under his chin but it does. “You do realize I was wearing these same clothes before.” It’s not so much a question as a clarification.

“But not like this.” Negan gestures to all of Carl. “It’s the way you’re wearing ‘em. And no coat, hair down. Mmhm. It’s different. It’s good.” Negan wishes he get Carl to stay still long enough for him to sketch the boy in his journal, but he knows that’ll never happen.

“Anyway, listen. Did you hear my announcement to the crew?”

“I assume you mean that we will be on port for a week and not that you want me, a would-be assassin, to scope out potential crew members for you,” Carl comments, looking toward the stretch of land they’re headed towards. He tries not to acknowledge the pleased tingle that goes down his spine at Negan’s complementary tone.

“Your voice carries.”

“Good,” Negan snorts. “I’ve got a few more points I need you to know. First, can you whistle?”

Carl makes a confused sound and starts to whistle a navy shanty he picked up from Shane to demonstrate.

“Good. Can you do this?” Glancing around to make sure they’re far enough from any crew member as to not incite a panic, Negan lets out a slow, two note whistle. He does it twice to make sure Carl hears it well enough.

Carl catches his glance around and keeps his whistle quiet when he mimics it. “What’s that? An SOS?”

“Yeah. You hear that, you get your ass back to the ship, or if you need help, just do that really loud. Got it?” Negan’s face is serious, more so than Carl’s ever seen. “I don’t care what you think, but you’re a piece of this crew now, however temporary. You’ve worked hard these past couple days and took care of this ship and its people. In return, if Dwight or I aren’t around, any one of these scallywags who hear that whistle will come to your aid.”

Carl is unused to such sternness from the man but he nods stonily. “Of course. I assume they know that works both ways.”

I assume you know that if you need help I will provide it, is what Carl really means but that’s too much. He’s halfway through a plan to leave or get himself killed just so Negan won’t take him back to Alexandria, just so he won’t have to beg to stay. He’s well aware that he’s probably only been kept around because he’s something nice to look at.

“It’s good to hear it does.” Negan’s expression lightens as he reaches out and squeezes Carl’s shoulder as a ‘thank you’. “Alright, second thing. I want you to stay with Dwight and I for this first day ashore. After that, you’re free to run around as you like, I’m not your keeper, but I need to get you introduced to the right people and show you where Dwight and I will be bunking. You’ll be free to stay with us or come back to the ship or rent a room somewhere, I don’t care. Just… Can you do that for me? One day?”

Carl raises a hand faux-seriously. “I solemnly swear to stay with you both for at least one day.”

He will not be staying the night with them at all and the idea that Negan would extend the offer is laughable. He can’t just sit and watch their affection and act like it isn’t happening right in front of him. No, his hammock in the brig will suit him just as well as it has before.

Reaching out, Negan takes Carl’s raised hand in his, shaking it in agreement, though there is a brief moment where it looks as though he wants to place a kiss to the back of it but then rethinks his choices. “Good. Thank you. And not just ‘one day’, but today. Meet us at the gangplank once we set anchor at the dock.”

“Today.” Carl nods his agreement knowing he won’t be far from there anyway. He plans to soak up as much sun as possible just like he’s been doing the last several days. They’ve been moving to warmer waters than home and his coat has been shed while he’s working more than once, the thinness of his shirt doing little to protect from the sun.

“Aye, good, lad. See you soon.” Negan gives him another shoulder squeeze before heading off for some last minute preparations. He needs to change, pack his bag, and get back to the helm in time to anchor the ship. Based on how close the island is, he’d say he has about an hour, and then it’s go time.

Carl helps where he can but being a boatswain has never been his favorite job aboard a ship and he ends up stepping back when it comes time to anchor, allowing the crewmen with a better grasp on that part to do their work while he readies the gangplank. He tries not to notice that he hasn’t had to act on any other avoidance this morning as he can usually feel Dwight’s gaze from the helm only today it’s absent.

Once they’ve docked he waits by the lowered gangplank, hip cocked against Lucille’s bannister. The docks below are as busy as any others but far more colorful and a bit more disorganized than he’s used to.

When Dwight and Negan meet up with him, they’re both in spiffier outfits. Negan has a different coat on, a cleaner one, and a couple guns at his belt along with his sword. He’s got a bag looped over his shoulder and rings on his fingers, plus seemingly random baubles stuck to his belt. A large red hat with ostrich feathers along one side adorns his head.

Dwight is simpler though no less cleaned up. Where Negan prefers blacks and reds, Dwight favors dark browns. Carl’s golden cloth is tied around his wrist securely, peeking out when his sleeve shifts as he moves. It’s the only thing that really stands out on his person, though he is also sporting a few more guns than normal.

“You ready?” Negan asks Carl with a grin, excitement radiating off of him. “We’re headed there.” He points off in the distance, past the mercantile port town, to a red brick castle-like structure standing tall above the trees.

Something in Carl has him counting the extra weapons. He eyes the guns with a familiarity, tracing their elegant wooden handles and their decorative metal bits. Carl is willing to bet that at least one isn’t loaded - because that’s something Negan would do - and that Dwight knows exactly which one.

There’s a ring on his pinky as well and it catches Carl’s eyes as soon as he points. It’s silver, made for a noble lady’s hand. It makes Carl’s fingers itch.

He turns his gaze on the fort in the distance and nods. “Lead the way then.”

Negan does just that, stepping down onto the dock a few steps ahead of the other two. Dwight’s aware that they need to keep close to Negan, but not on top of him.

“Probably should have asked before, but you don’t have a problem with animals, right?” he asks Carl as they make their way down the dock.

Carl shakes his head before realizing Negan won’t see it and answering. “I love animals.”

His eyes trace over the busy docks. There’s other ships nearby, smaller than the Lucille, and several much smaller crafts. Thus far he hasn’t seen anything to imply this place is different than any other port, but he’s sure that will change soon.

“Good,” says Dwight, keeping pace with Carl.

As they step off the dock, they enter into a merchant alley that lines the bay. Booths and tents are set up against the sides of brick and wood buildings. Sellers hawk their wares; farm fresh foods, fabrics, jewelry.

It would all be very usual of a port if not for the animals sharing the space. Exotic birds roost in the curves of the tents, cats sun themselves on any horizontal surface, packs of dogs bark as they weave through the colorful crowd. More than one merchant has a monkey or a large lizard on their shoulder. There’s even quite a few people wearing animal masks like it’s some kind of carnival.

“We’ll come back here later,” Dwight tells Carl as he sidesteps a couple of strange striped creatures that look like small, sleek dogs. “For food and supplies, mostly. If you see anything you like, let me know.”

“Yes, right,” Carl mutters distractedly, attempting to keep the pace as he takes in all the sights. He’s never seen such a large group of different animals before, running around free.

He ducks under the swooping of a rather colorful parrot, twisting around in a circle as he walks to watch it land on top of the tent that seems to belong to a man selling fried bread. He could lose himself here easily but he made a promise so he flicks his eyes back to the two familiar pirates and picks up his pace to catch back up.

Out of the corner of his eye he catches sight of a golden necklace, a thin thing with four little circular plates hanging periodically from the chain. The latch is broken, a lemur is trying to paw open the bodice of her dress and she’s giggling. As they pass, his hand slips out, catching the broken latch and gently pulling the necklace with him as he goes.

He feeds most of it up his sleeve, the woman none the wiser, and begins using his thumbnail to bend the clasp back in place.

There’s a quick flick of a glance from Dwight as he checks to make sure Carl is still with him. If he saw the sticky fingers, he doesn’t say anything.

Making their way into town, the temporary market stalls are replaced by more permanent buildings boasting shops and taverns amongst other establishments. People and animals mingle inside and outside, taking advantage of the nice weather and trying to draw in customers.

Negan waves and smiles at a few ladies with spilling bosoms outside a brothel. They giggle and wave back, blowing kisses from their painted lips.

“Please tell me he actually has a place for the two of you to stay, and he isn’t staying a week at the brothel,” Carl mumbles out of the corner of his mouth to Dwight. The fixed necklace is draped around his neck, mostly slipping under his open collar, not exactly clockable at first glance.

He genuinely hopes Dwight will tell him they have somewhere because if not Negan’s invite to stay with them - that he has henceforth refused - would be so much worse.

“Yes, he does,” Dwight says with a laugh. “We’ll each get our own room too. Quite nice actually having some privacy once in a while. I’ll be honest, after I’m done helping buy supplies, I’ll probably spend most of the time tucked away. It’s a welcome reprieve from life on the ship.”

“Hm.” Carl voices noncommittally, eyeing what seems to be a black and white striped horse as it lumbers past pulling a cart full of dried beans.

He’d carefully suggested a few things to Cook for the list of food that the crew would need, not wanting to overstep but also wanting to make sure the men were fed. “If you wouldn’t mind, Master Dwight, I think I might join you. I’d love to explore some more.”

“Of course. After our meeting with the king, we’ll be free to roam,” Dwight says like it’s a normal thing to say, smiling at Carl. He’s glad Carl wants to get out and see things, and is proud that he’d like to do it at Dwight’s side. “Negan will probably stay put while his wound gets looked at, so it can be just us.”

“Oh pirates have kings now, interesting that,” Carl says almost cynically. Pirates don’t seem the sort to follow any man’s rule, in fact he was quite sure that pirates were against those sort of thing - monarchies, laws, and the like.

“Probably better if I’m not around when they look at it anyway,” Carl notes.

Dwight hums and leans in close to Carl, keeping his voice soft. “He’s not a real king,” he says, covering his mouth with his hand. “Not in the way you’re thinking. He’s a leader and a governor of this isle, but he holds no political power. It’s more just a fancy title.” He straightens back up and shrugs. “Like a captain.”

“Huh?” Negan turns and looks back, eyes flicking between the two.

“Nothing, sir. Just telling him about King Ezekiel.”

“Ah! You’ll like him, I’m sure.” His lips twitch up in a smirk before he turns back, leading them down a path that turns from dirt road to cobblestone.

Carl snickers, pressing his fingers against his mouth to force down any other laughter. He clears his throat and slides his arms comfortably behind his back. “This King? He must be someone you’ve both known a long while if Negan is willing to have his wounds looked at here, no?”

“Yes, some years now,” Dwight says, tapping his chin as he tries to recount how long it’s been. “This port has been one of our stops for a while now, and one of those times Negan got himself into a bit of trouble with a barkeep and a giant bird-”

“Allegedly!”

“-that had him brought before the king. Apparently, he talked his way out of any punishment, and also struck up a friendship with him.”

“Aye, my mouth is good for many things.” Negan turns back and makes a tongue in cheek gesture before laughing and looking forward again.

Dwight rolls his eyes. “Anyway, now we get the, as they say, royal treatment when we make port.”

Carl can feel the heat in his face. Through all the flirtation, all the overt comments, all the minuscule acts of care the two men have shown each other- Negan has never actually done something so crude.

Carl licks at his mouth, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks away from both men. “How fortunate. I’ll endeavor not to embarrass you both in front of your dear friend.”

Dwight just smiles, patting Carl gently on the back.

The path leads them up aways, the castle getting larger and larger as they grow closer. The amount of people around here diminish, though the amount of small houses and farms grows. The people they pass here are less colorful, though no less happy, waving at the trio as they pass.

Carl lifts his hand in a wave just the same as both of the men do. He could imagine himself sequestered away here, making a life on some farm among the free wildlife and colorful people. It’s so sharply different from Alexandria that he wonders why Negan would ever want to bring his people there when this is an option.

He imagines squirreling himself away somewhere here until the Lucille leaves just so he won’t have to go home, trading his things and living a life of creation like he had always wanted.

“Mm, think I might like to retire here when I’m done sailing,” Dwight says, his blond hair blowing gently in the breeze. “It’s nice. A nice place to rest in my final days.”

“Mm.” Negan nods, looking around, face pensive. “I’m going to die at sea.” Something about his tone is chilling, like he knows it’s a fact.

Carl's gaze has moved back to Dwight, watching him as he casts a wistful look to the fields around them. Perhaps the look is similar to the one Carl held a moment ago. Only his chest does this crushing, breathless thing at Negan's words and his focus flashes to the captain's back.

"I'm not quite sure you'll die at all," Carl finds himself tutting. "We were both supposed to die at sea and then you opened your big mouth and ruined it."

Negan barks a laugh, scaring a few deer grazing nearby. “See. Once again, my mouth saves me. Not sure if it can ward off death forever, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He looks back and winks at Carl.

Carl fears he might roll his eyes so hard they fall from his head. “Of course that’s what you get from that.”

“As if you could expect anything else.” Dwight matches Carl’s eye roll.

“Aye, fuck you both.”

Upon finally reaching the castle, the trio walk beneath an arched metal gate overgrown with plants and enter into a small courtyard. The path leads them down the middle to the large front door of the castle, but along the way they are flanked by two symmetrical ponds surrounded by vegetation. Within the water can be seen huge fish, scales shining gold, orange, and black.

Carl buttons his lips against an instinctive quip to that and picks up speed, leaning around the pirate to eye the large ornate front door. “So… Do you knock or…?”

Before anyone can answer, the door opens.

A bearded Samoan pirate dressed in black and silver stands before them. He’s got a metal gauntlet on his right hand that’s wrapped around the staff of a halberd. He looks at them all critically for a moment before recognition sets in over his features.

“Sir Jerry!” Negan exclaims, removing his hat and pressing it to his chest as he bows. “Is the king in, perchance? Accepting visitors and all that?”

“Captain Negan. Master Dwight.” Jerry nods towards each of them, gaze lingering on Carl for a moment. “The king is in his throne room. I’m sure he will be glad to see some old friends, as well as new. Follow me.”

They do as requested, another person in black and silver closing the large door behind them.

These new pirates are very shiny, is the first thing Carl thinks as he coasts alongside Negan towards where the bearded pirate is leading them. He eyes the stone walls and colorful tapestries as he goes, keeping his mouth firmly shut.

In truth, if it were just him he would probably comment about how this king guy must think very much of himself. Having a literal throne room and all. Alas, Carl promised to not embarrass his pirates so he keeps his mouth shut and his hands tucked firmly behind his back.

After all, it would be a real shame to get caught swiping one of the decorative (probably not completely decorative) weapons off the walls to inspect how sharp they may be.

As Sir Jerry opens the door for them, the group is met with the sprawling throne room. It's a true testament of wealth and confidence in how well protected The Kingdom is.

Either side of the walkway is adorned with chests bursting with gold coins and jewels that spill down into piles so deep that it seems almost as though a man could wade through them. The light from the windows set up high in the walls and the dozens of torches around catch on each piece and make it sparkle in the most tempting way.

Even farther in are piles of fine fabrics dyed in every color that could come from a man's imagination; each bolt of cloth accompanied by jewelry in similar shades. The whole room has an aroma of spices and incense, the smell most likely coming from the boxes of heavy metal containers with bold stamps pressed into their sides.

The whole room is a test of self control and Carl thinks they maybe should have never brought him here or should have put him in shackles at the very least. He can see every loose coin, every gleaming ring, every beautifully cut jewel.

He wants to grab Dwight or Negan and shake them and tell them to get him out of here before he filches something and gets all of them in trouble. Rather than that, he inspects the man in the throne as they approach, handsome and dark, perhaps Negan’s age.

The throne is sat in the middle of the treasure trove, carved from sturdy, gleaming wood. Sat upon it is the king himself. Ezekiel cuts an imposing figure decked in a heavy coat lined in fur. Large rings gleam on each of his fingers, shining as they run through the dense fur of the tiger at his side.

"Who dares demand an audience with the king?" His voice bounces off the high ceilings, echoing in the room.

"Presenting the crew of The Lucille." Sir Jerry rushes ahead to announce them.

"The Lucille? Then that means..." The furrow of Ezekiel's brow softens into a wide grin as he spots the familiar figures. "Captain Negan, you son of a whore. It has been too long since you've graced my land. Come. Come. What need do you have of The Kingdom? And don't you dare say you're here for pleasure. You always need something when you dock with us."

“Can it not be both, my liege?” Negan says with a laugh, striding to the throne but stopping a few feet away. He removes his hat and bows once again. This time Dwight does the same and motions at Carl to do as well.

Just as he’s been taught, Carl crosses his ankles and bows with a flourish. Well, not exactly as he’s been taught considering his father always said his bows were a little too eccentric.

Though it seems like here, eccentricity is good.

“Rise, my friends. Rise. You are now guests here at my castle, and I’ll see that you are treated as such.” Ezekiel rises himself from his throne and steps forward to pull Negan into a hug, almost engulfing him entirely. He pulls back and cups Negan’s face in his hands, turning it to and fro. “Ah, look at you.”

“Still handsome?” Negan says with a grin.

“Devilishly.” Ezekiel laughs and it echoes around the chamber, making the tiger at his heels twitch her ears. He moves next to Dwight, doing the same greeting.

Dwight gets even more lost within Ezekiel with how slight he is, but his smile is bright as the king examines his face. “First Mate Dwight. Ever loyal. Still following this louse around, eh?”

“He can’t get rid of me,” Dwight says with a shrug and a laugh.

When Ezekiel’s sights turn to Carl, he pauses and tilts his head, dreads spilling over his shoulder. Curiosity and wonder shine in his eyes. “You’ve brought someone new to my court! Tell me, boy, who might you be?”

“He’s-” Negan starts, cut off by a raise of Ezekiel’s hand.

“He may tell me himself.” With a nod towards Carl, the king’s full attention is on him.

While the king is distracted by the two pirates, Carl eyes the tiger as he raises from his bow. His elbow brushes one of the many hanging scarves, knocking a ring loose and he catches it behind his back before it can clatter to the ground.

He means to slide it back onto the scarf - probably - but then the dark skinned man is addressing him and it ends up slid to the knuckle of his middle finger mostly hidden by the frill of his sleeves.

Carl looks at the man through his lashes, face downturned enough to be respectful. The charm he’s used all his life prior to these last weeks spills from his lips easily. “Why only a stowaway, Your Grace, no one of import. Carlton,” he introduces, ducking his head again and proffering his unringed hand to the man in offerance to kiss his rings as he would any noble of high esteem.

What he receives instead is a handful of wet tiger nose as said tiger sniffs the offered hand.

“Such exquisite manners for a stowaway,” Ezekiel says, watching as his tiger circles Carl, sniffing him all over and even licking him in a few places. “The real question is, does Shiva approve of you, Stowaway Carlton?”

Carl can’t help the way he coos at the animal, dropping into a crouch. She is large, dangerous, but clearly some sort of domesticated. If this is how he meets his end, well at least he won’t have to return to Alexandria.

“How darling you are,” he murmurs to her, hand careful and gentle as he attempts to stroke her thick fur. “What a strong name for such a lovely woman.”

Shiva basks in the attention, turning and directing Carl’s hand to where she wants it along her back. Her tail swings in happiness, and a soft purr vibrates from her large body. She turns again to bump her head against Carl’s, holding his gaze with her entrancing eyes. It feels as though she is looking into him and weighing his soul.

“Positively praiseworthy, you are,” Carl assures the massive cat with a soft voice, not pulling his face from her searching eyes. “As intelligent as a goddess, you must be.”

There’s a beat of a moment before Shiva blinks and looks towards Ezekiel. He raises an eyebrow at her, and she chuffs softly.

“Is that so?”

Shiva chuffs again, looking back to Carl and licking her rough tongue up his cheek.

“I see. I see.” Ezekiel nods, his face serious.

Carl cannot help but giggle at the lick over his face and he carefully strokes along the tigers ears as he stands, legs burning slightly from crouching so long. “I do hope that’s a good thing, Your Majesty.”

“Aye, Stowaway Carlton. Quite good indeed.” Ezekiel smiles, something knowing shining in his eye. Shiva chuffs again before padding off back to her cushion next to the throne, allowing Ezekiel the space to tug Carl into a strong hug the same as he did the other men.

Perhaps it’s the scents of myrrh and garam masala ingrained into Ezekiel’s clothes. Perhaps it’s his heavy cloak, warm as it falls around him, the furred lining brushing Carl. Perhaps it’s such an intimate gesture being offered so freely. Whatever it is, something about being held by Ezekiel gives the inexplicable feeling of being safe.

“Oh!” Carl exclaims, stumbling as he’s tugged into the much larger man’s hold. Impossibly his eyes sting a bit at the gesture as he uncertainly hugs the man back.

He knows Negan had cradled him not long ago but it’s been terribly long since someone hugged him in such a kind familiar way. When the king begins to pull back, Carl blinks the emotion away and offers a small smile. “Please, just Carl is fine.”

“Just Carl it is then,” Ezekiel says with a smile, taking Carl’s face and patting it softly.

Stepping back, Ezekiel opens his arms towards his guests and welcomes them once more to his home. He declares that they discuss their business over food and ushers them all into an adjoining room filled with cushions and pillows and a long low table set down the middle. It’s dimmer in this room, Eastern metal lanterns with intricate designs cut into the sides hanging above them and casting interesting shadows about. The smell of spices is stronger here, especially as food begins to be brought to the table.

They take seats at one end of the table, Ezekiel choosing to sit across from Negan instead of at the head, and then insisting that Carl sat next to him. Dwight sits across from Carl, crossing his legs on the soft pillow beneath him. There are a few others sitting at the far end of the table, chatting and eating, but they don’t seem to pay the king and his guests any mind.

“I think,” Carl notes, looking around the room as his fingers stroke along the velvet of the pillow he sits on, not much different from the one side of his vest, “that there may be more color in this room than the whole of Alexandria.”

He once more wonders why Negan and his men would ever come to their tiny port when this place is an option and they are so readily welcomed.

“Alexandria? Is that where you hail from, Just Carl?” Ezekiel asks as he sheds his coat, letting it fall down behind him. He pours goblets of what looks like wine for the four of them, gesturing for everyone to dig in to the food as they wished.

“Indeed,” Carl nods, finding himself unbothered by the king’s jest. He lifts the wine goblet fluidly, far more used to these than the mugs aboard Lucille. The wine is more familiar than anything he’s had as of late, full bodied and not too sweet like the syrupy ones his mother enjoys.

He hums, pleased. “This is delicious.”

“I’m very glad that you enjoy it,” Ezekiel says. “Please, eat and drink to your fill. No guest of mine shall leave here wanting of anything.”

He turns to address Negan, who has set his hat to the side and is digging a piece of flatbread into a mixture of rice and vegetables. “Speaking of, tell me, friend, the reason of your visit.”

Humming around his bite of food, Negan nods and chews for a moment before speaking. “A couple reasons,” he says, washing down his bite with a sip of wine. “We needed to restock our food stores quite badly, and also… I’ve got a wound I’d like you to take a look at.”

“A wound?”

“Aye. I got stabbed in the shoulder.” Negan tries his best not to look at Carl when he says it, instead working off the top half of his coat so he can bare his shoulder. Dwight helps tug his sleeve down when Negan hisses in pain. “I don’t think it’s infected, but it’s still angry.”

Carl carefully moves chicken and as much of the cucumber, zucchini, squash mix he sees into his plate without coming off as rude. He’s eyeing the cups of creamy looking soup near Dwight’s arm when they begin pulling Negan’s shirt down and his eyes snap to him like they’re pulled by fishing line.

He clicks his tongue. “My dagger is unyielding and unforgiving but clean, of course it isn’t infected.”

And he knows if not the captain himself, than Dwight would have taken well care of the wound. He’ll need more than what Carl carries in his coat if he wants it to heal faster than natural, after all Carl was particularly mercurial with it.

There’s a moment of silence as Carl’s words sink in, Negan and Dwight’s eyes flicking between Carl and Ezekiel anxiously.

The tension is cut as Ezekiel laughs loudly, clapping Carl on the back jovially. “You are full of mystery, Young Carl. I love it! Tell me, do you have the weapon on hand? May I see it?”

This is Carl’s dagger, the one he had custom made, the one he’s loved dearly. It will always come back to him, and he pulls it from his sheath with ease. It might one day even be the blade to kill him.

He flicks it, flipping it through the air and catching it by the tip between two fingers, the hilt with their crest held out to the man beside him. If Negan didn’t recognize it with as many times as he has been to Alexandria, Carl can’t imagine this man from this far off land will.

“Magnificent,” Ezekiel says, holding his hands out with the question of taking it from Carl. “May I?”

“Can’t believe he’s praising the knife that stabbed me,” Negan mumbles to Dwight who just smiles and shakes his head. They’ve managed to free Negan’s whole arm, so that the entire left side of him from chest up is exposed. There’s still bandages wrapped around the wound, but now it’s much easier for Ezekiel to see where it is.

“My dagger is absolutely darling,” Carl snaps in Negan’s direction. He doesn’t look away from Ezekiel however. “Please, be my guest.”

Ezekiel takes the dagger with a thank you and feels the weight of it in his hand. “Mm. Good balance.” He looks between the blade the Negan for a moment, asking him to turn to the side for a moment. He hums and nods. “How far did you sink this lovely dagger into our friend here?” he asks Carl, rolling the dagger between his fingers for a moment before handing it back, handle towards Carl.

Carl reaches out, taking it and smoothing his finger across the flat of the blade about an inch and a half from the hilt. “I believe to here at least, any farther and it would have poked out the other side.”

He gentles his thumb down the side of the blade. “I twisted it as well, this side went inward and the other out.”

“I see.” Ezekiel nods. “Thank you very much, Young Carl. That is all I need to see.

“You on the other hand-” He turns and points at Negan who once again has a mouth full of food. “-I will need to see later to examine your wound. If I recall, I have a tincture that may do some wonders.”

“Thank you, Zeke,” Negan says with a sigh and a smile.

“Think nothing of it, my friend.”

Carl returns his dagger to its sheath, lifting a dual pronged fork to begin tearing meat from the chicken bone so that he can mix it with his vegetables.

“He’s been using mint oil for the muscle pains, but I believe he ran out and didn’t tell me,” he offers to the king. He’ll have to buy all new things for his oils, herbal medicines, and soap making if he doesn’t return to Alexandria, but that shouldn’t be too difficult with how many different stalls and shops they passed on the way in.

“I didn’t think you’d want to give up another bottle, so I didn’t bring it up,” Negan says with a shrug of his good shoulder. “It did work nicely though.”

“Mint is invasive, it’s the easiest oil to make,” Carl says, pointing his fork at Negan before he turns his attention back to Ezekiel.

“Mint, you say? I shall have to question you about this mixture later, Young Carl. It sounds promising.” Taking a drink from his cup, Ezekiel watches Carl eat with interest. “Is the food to your liking?“

“I’m sure your medicines far outreach my oils. Mother referred to it as nasty hedge-witchery after all,” Carl mumbles the last part, stabbing more food onto the prongs of his fork. “It’s delicious, thank you.”

“Wonderful.” Ezekiel smiles softly, reaching for some chicken for himself, along with a helping of yellow rice.

They fall into pleasant conversation, Negan and Dwight telling Ezekiel about happenings on the high seas and Ezekiel telling fantastical stories he’s heard from traveler’s passing through.

The atmosphere is warm, and the food is good, and before they know it the sun has set.

“I think we got a bit lost in conversation,” Carl murmurs, looking at the lowlight coming through the windows. He knows he’s spoken much less than the others, listening fascinated to their stories but he’s had a wonderful, most relaxed time of it. “I should get back to the ship.”

“The ship?” Ezekiel perks up, eyebrows raising as he stares at Carl in shock. “Why, no guest of mine shall ever have to sleep on the ship! The thought is abysmal! A blight on my hospitality!” There’s genuine hurt in his eyes to think that Carl had had such a bad time within his castle that he’d rather go back to a hammock on the boat. “Surely you will allow me to at least show you to a room. From there you may go and come freely.”

“I did not mean any offense, I assure you,” Carl rushes to say, finding the idea of upsetting the king after a day of being near the man duly upsetting. “It’s only, I haven’t slept outside of my-” he cuts himself off wondering when exactly he decided the brig was his room, “-the brig since I left Alexandria. I had assumed I would return for the night.”

His breakdown notwithstanding.

Ezekiel’s head whips over to Negan. “You keep this boy in the brig?!” His voice low yet booming all at once, commanding in its presence.

“I do not keep him there. He chose it,” Negan defends, frowning. “He’s got a hammock in there. It’s not like he’s on the floor.”

“The crew is still warming up to him,” Dwight offers, trying to relieve any of the tension he can. “It’s been better having him separate from the communal bunks.”

“I also offered my bed, but he turned it down.”

“That’s cause you’re in your bed,” Dwight says with exasperation.

“Well… Alright, but listen. Earlier I told Carl he had the choice to either stay with us here tonight, stay somewhere in town, or go back to the boat.” Negan taps the table as he lists the things off, looking to Carl for confirmation. “If he wants the boat, then I won’t stop him.”

“In honest defense,” Carl says, attempting to soothe the upset look the king still has, “I did also kill three of their men.”

His eyes flick for a moment to his two pirates before sliding back to the king. “A room would be appreciated, but perhaps one less,” ornate, tempting, grandiose, “large. I prefer more easily defensible places, I’m sure you understand.”

He maybe bats his eyes a little, angles his head the way he used to with the blacksmith, makes himself smaller and less dangerous looking with his hands tucked neatly behind him.

Ezekiel hums softly, looking between his company with furrowed brows. There was a lot to the story he was missing here, but he would ask Negan of it later.

For now, he sighs and pets Carl’s head like one might pet a tiger between the ears, his expression softening. “I understand. That I can do for you, Just Carl.”

“Much obliged, Your Grace,” Carl says evenly, almost preening at the attention as he presses a hand to his chest and bows slightly at the waist.

Oh, where did that pinkie ring come from? Did he pull it off someone during Dwight’s tale about the octopus that was in love with their last quartermaster? Must have.

“Come, come then!” Pushing off the table, Ezekiel stands and stretches. Shiva, who had joined at the head of the table at some point, also stands and stretches, yawning wide and showing off her large teeth. Ezekiel plucks his cloak up and secures it over his shoulders once more. “Let’s be off before we succumb to the siren call of conversation once again.”

Moving through the halls of the castle, reveals that only the main floor seems to be as over the top as its owner. The guest floor is much more toned down, only a few banners on the walls bearing the Kingdom’s seal.

Ezekiel stops in front of a wooden door set into the brick. “Negan, your room.”

“Thank you, my liege.” Ezekiel smiles and reaches out to pat Negan’s uninjured shoulder.

“Dwight, please take the one across the way.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“And Carl, you shall be down here a ways.” It’s just a few more feet to another door that Ezekiel opens and ushers Carl into. “Do let me know if it is not to your liking. I may have a broom closet somewhere that you could use.” He grins at his own joke.

“Oh, I can sleep anywhere if you decide that’s what you wish to do with me,” Carl says agreeably, and not at all falsely, “I appreciate your hospitality, your eminence.”

Once the king leaves and Carl is alone in the smaller room, still with rich bedclothes and decorative curtains around the windows, he sighs a soft breath of relief. Ezekiel had been more than kind but today had been a lot. A lot of seeing things he couldn’t have.

The bed is a single but it will do more than nicely, and for once Carl even pulls his boots off, not wanting to ruin the nice bedding any more than his general grossness from a fortnight at sea will. He settles atop the covers, weapons still at his hip, and crosses his ankles and arms as usual- settling in to sleep.

 

~

 

Carl’s Outfit Inspo Chaps 7-19

 

Chapter 8

Summary:

Bath time for the trio~

Notes:

T: The three stooges finally talk! Not the end of their brief misunderstandings but we’re finally getting somewhere!

R: I loooove writing bath scenes and this one is one of my favorites! Hope you enjoy it to~

 

It’s late morning, the sun almost done rising in the sky, when Dwight finally blinks his eyes open. He groans and stretches in his bed, feeling his muscles pull and back pop. Lord, when was the last time he had such nice sleep?

Rubbing his face as he sits up, Dwight looks around and is reminded of where he is. Ah. He’ll have to do some shopping today before it’s too late. They had gotten a little distracted yesterday.

Rising up, Dwight uses the chamber pot and washes his face in the washbasin, slicking his hair back with the water as well. He wonders if they should visit the bathhouse before leaving, the thought of warm water and soap a nice one.

Outside his room, he finds his breakfast waiting for him on a tray held up on a small table beside the door. Looking across the way shows that Negan’s is already gone, and Dwight figures he’s probably getting checked over by now. They’d meet up later for sure.

Taking his tray, he heads down the hall to Carl’s room, wanting to make sure the boy knew there was food for him and also to see if he was awake. Dwight is still in the loose pants and shirt he’d slept in, found in a drawer in his room, bare feet tapping lightly on the brick floor.

When he sees Carl outside of his room, he lets out a noise of surprise. “Oh! Mornin’. How’d you sleep?”

Carl looks up as Dwight approaches, breath catching at the sight of the man dressed in soft clothes with his feet bare. It’s practically obscene, far too intimate for Carl’s eyes and he hastily averts him.

“Just as well as I always do,” he answers easily, rotating the ring from the throne room around his middle finger to distract himself. “And you?”

“Fantastic. The beds here are amazing.” Dwight cocks his head as he studies Carl. “What are you doing out here then? Did you find your breakfast? It’s a usual staple here.” Dwight shifts his tray in his hands. “Still gotta eat mine.”

Carl's eyes flick over to the tray in Dwight’s hands and then avert, he has seen Dwight’s hands possibly a hundred times since boarding the Lucille, but with the soft sleeves of the shirt falling so high on his forearms and his fingers splaying under the ornate tray it almost seems too much.

“They put honey and lemon in my porridge. It was delicious,” he affirms, tongue skating over his bottom lip almost trying to taste the breakfast once more. “You should eat, I’m in no rush.”

“Yeah. Will you join me, back in my room perhaps so I can sit down while I eat?” Dwight asks with a soft laugh. “I’d enjoy the company.”

Carl’s first thought is that perhaps if Negan was anything like this in complete obliviousness, he would have succeeded in his false seduction of Carl. Carl takes a steadying breath and pushes off the wall he’s been leaning against, waving a hand towards Dwight’s guest room. “Please, lead the way, Master Dwight.”

With a smile, Dwight does just that, entering his room with Carl in tow. As promised, Carl’s room is smaller than his companions, which he notices now with being in Dwight’s. This room has a double bed and a wider window, looking out over the back of the castle. Dwight sets his tray down on a small dining table near the window that has two chairs tucked under it. He takes one and nods towards the other.

“Wanna sit?” he asks, lifting the little lid off his bowl of porridge and stirring it.

Carl eyes the large lip of the window above the table, light streaming through it invitingly.

“Do you mind if I-?” Carl hesitates hand faltering as he gestures to the window. No, he decides, that would be quite rude. He begins to step over and pull out a chair instead.

“Mind if you what, lad?” Dwight saw the aborted motion, following where Carl’s hand had been about to go. “Oh, you want the window ledge? Go on ahead. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Carl murmurs.

Something loosens in his shoulders, and Carl steps on the chair, only for a moment, before swinging up into the window. Anyone larger than him would be uncomfortable in the space, but as he curls himself in the pocket of stone, sunwarm glass against his arm through the thin sleeve of his shirt, Carl could practically purr.

If he’s ferried back to Alexandria he’ll have to deal with the near constant cloud coverage and his mother keeping him inside all the time once more. He can’t help but allow himself to bask in this while he has it.

Dwight smiles to himself, content with Carl’s silent presence as he eats his meal. He’s worried about the boy since he’d arrived on the ship, and is glad that he has become a person of comfort for him. Part of Dwight wishes Carl could stay with them on the Lucille for all of their adventures, but he knows he has a family to get back to.

Finishing up his cup of tea, Dwight clears his throat and stands, moving to find clothes for the day. He’s going through a drawer picking out a shirt when he says, “I see you’re in your same clothes as ever. You should have dressers like this in your room as well. You’re free to use whatever, and if you want anything washed you can ask a maid. They’re pretty nice about it usually.”

Carl is watching several huge blue birds swoop past the window. “Putting on clean clothes when I’m not clean wouldn’t feel right. And besides I don’t think any of the clothes would fit or be…”

He cuts himself off with a sharp breath through his teeth as he turns to speak to Dwight, seeing the man in the midst of shedding his shirt. Swinging his head back to the window he clears his throat, trying to remember where he was going with that statement.

“My preferred color or fabric,” he finishes a bit lamely.

“You’d be surprised,” Dwight says, unaware of the impact his state of undress is having on Carl. When you live on a boat with a lot of other men for a real long time you stop caring about things like nudity. “Though, now that you mention it, it would be nice to get clean first before putting on new clothes. I had been debating about going to the bathhouse in town, but I do think I’d like to. So, maybe I’ll put my dirty clothes on for now and bring a clean pair with me.” He taps his chin as he stands, sans shirts, looking over the clothes he has thrown on the bed. “We can shop and send the supplies back to the boat, maybe get some lunch, and then bathhouse after? How does that sound to you?”

Oh, a bath sounds absolutely wonderful. Carl closes his eyes just to think about it. “A bath sounds fantastic.” He scratches his jaw, fingers bumping against a salt stiff lock of hair. “I have a shirt and some soap on Lucille, but if the king won’t mind I could probably do with some pants.”

He pauses for a moment, “Shouldn’t we find Negan to see if he wants a bath as well?”

“I suppose we should. He does clean up quite well,” Dwight says with a chuckle, slipping on his dirty clothes. If he has any thoughts about Carl thinking about Negan, he doesn’t voice them. “I’ll leave a message for him to meet us there this afternoon. Grab some pants while we’re here, from this room or yours, and then I think we can be off.”

Carl rolls from the windowsill, dropping to his feet. He breezes past Dwight, planning to head to the other room to give the man the privacy to change. “Have him meet us at Lucille, he might want some of his own things,” he comments distractedly.

He bustles back to his own guest room, pawing through the drawers for a pair of pants that might fit him. Pausing on a particularly eye catching skirt, he runs his fingers across the fabric before shaking his head and moving on. There’s a dark brown, nearly black pair of trousers in one of the bottom drawers the fabric thicker and more sturdy than the ones he’s wearing now and with a test around his throat he finds they’ll probably fit.

Exiting the room as he rolls up the trousers, he frowns at them. The bundle will be much harder to hide on his person without some sort of coat.

Dwight exits not a minute later, looking as he did the day before except now with the bag that Negan had brought in with them over his shoulder. He offers to take Carl’s pants once they meet up. “Stick ‘em here next to mine, yeah? Oh, also…” He shoves his hand down one side of the bag and brings out a brown coin bag. “This is for you. Buy whatever you like.” He holds it out to Carl, the sound of coins clinking inside.

Carl tilts his head at the coin bag confused. “I don’t need that, I have some.”

He presses the flat of his palm against it, pushing it back towards Dwight. “Better to spend it on extra supplies, don’t you think?”

Dwight falters for a moment, frowning at the bag in his hand like it bit him. “No, no. It’s alright. Negan already factored it in to our expenses and everything.” He tries to give Carl the coins again. “It’s your wages, see? For the days you worked on the ship. Honest work, honest pay.”

Carl's brows push down and he stares at the bag of coin. It would help in the long run if he were going to escape into the depths of The Kingdom so that he didn’t have to go back to Alexandria.

He wraps his fingers around the coin pouch but doesn’t take it, eyeing Dwight. “You aren’t going to let me refuse, are you?”

Dwight grins, a rare expression for him. “No, I’m not.” He lets go of the bag, forcing Carl to take it else it drops. “Tuck it away and let’s go, eh?”

Carl fits the bag of coin behind his waistband where it can’t be easily seen or taken and begins to follow Dwight out. There are fewer people watching them this day as they make their way through the halls, but he keeps his hands behind his back as they walk anyway to stave off any temptation.

He hums happily as they step out into the tepid air of morning, the sun unimpeded by glass coating them.

Outside the door standing guard is Jerry, who smiles and nods at them. Dwight asks him to relay the meeting message to Negan, whenever him and the king were finished up.

“I will let the Captain know.”

“Thanks.”

Turning to Carl and seeing him soaking up the sun, Dwight smiles softly. He comes up beside him and looks out over the beautiful courtyard. “Ready?”

Carl’s eyes slip open and over to Dwight. The man has the coloring of the sky, glowing practically golden in the sunlight. Carl swallows, waving a hand towards the road. “After you, Master Dwight.”

~

They make it to town fairly quickly, and Dwight leads them back to the marina where the street of merchant booths is already bustling. Reaching into his bag, Dwight pulls out a couple sheets of folded parchment and hands them to Carl.

“Alright, here’s our shopping list. You wanna be in charge of that? Read it off to me and make sure we get it all?”

Carl takes the pages, momentarily distracted by a hog that seems to have a school of small sparrows riding on its back. He knows most of what’s on it, offered suggestions to Cook who had sat at the top of the ladder writing the list while Carl inspected the food storage area.

He looks down at the parchment in his hand, flipping the pages open, and stumbles stopping short. Embarrassment seeps deep in his bones.

“I can’t it’s-” cursive. If it were print he could muddle through with the letters flipping and mixing about but Cook must have been trained or something before piracy because even his numbers are written out in cursive.

He holds the papers back out, swallowing heavily and averting his gaze. “I can’t read this,” he reiterates softly. “I only know what I suggested.”

Dwight stops and slowly takes the pages back. He looks at the list and finds nothing wrong with it. Cook’s handwriting mixed with a little of Negan’s at the end all looks fine to him.

“You can’t… Like at all, or…?” It’s not a malicious question, simply wondering about this new information. With Carl showing signs of a well off family, Dwight had assumed he was fairly educated.

“I can read print passably, not well, the letters move and change on me,” Carl says, distracting himself from his embarrassment by inspecting the market place. “Cursive makes no sense, it’s nothing. A drawing at best and squiggles at worst. I can forge someone’s signature to perfection but I can’t read what the signature says.”

He eyes a dog-like creature, loping down the street as he shrugs. “My mother assumed it was laziness, how could the best governess around be unable to teach her son?”

Reaching out, Dwight gently takes Carl’s chin and turns his face towards him so he can look into his eyes. “Hey. If there’s one thing I know about you from these past weeks, it’s that you’re not lazy. You are so smart and hard working. Just cause you can’t read some squiggles on a page don’t mean anything. You got that?”

The praise washes over Carl like a waterfall, trickling down his back and straightening his spine. He can feel the heat on his face and yet he’s not allowed to turn away. He swallows, suddenly parched. “Got it.”

“Good.” Dwight lets go and runs his hand down Carl’s head, flicking the ends of his hair between his fingers. “New job then. I’ll read the list, you get to carry everything.” He smiles and cocks his head, starting down the road.

Carl grimaces in spite of his still burning face and looks around. “We may need to rent a wheelbarrow or a wagon of some kind.”

Laughing, Dwight shakes his head. “Don’t worry. The larger amounts of stuff will get packed and loaded on by others. I was mostly just teasin’ ya.” Dwight winks at Carl before taking a look at the list. “Alright, first thing… Rum.”

They make their way into the market, Dwight haggling skillfully at every stop, directing deliveries to The Lucille as they go. Carl keeps to his side mostly, whispering things he notices, pointing out ingredients with long shelf lives that may not be on the list, and taking.

It’s hard not to in such a crowd. There’s a woman waving her hands, fussing in another language at someone. Her bangles are so loose they nearly fall off thrice as they approach. Carl cannot help but tug her off balance by her corset strings as a distraction and swipe two of the bangles from her flaring arm as she turns the opposite way to see who did it. Two more rings find his palms, another necklace, that he slips into the hands of a child for the matchsticks she’s selling, and a coin purse from a particularly careless drunkard.

Carl and Dwight stop at one of the final stalls and his attention is taken once more by a tent overflowing with fabrics. “A moment, Master Dwight,” he murmurs with a hand carefully touching the man’s arm as he excuses himself from the pirate’s side for the first time.

Dwight watches curiously, following Carl just a few steps away. It’s interesting to him how moved by fabric Carl is. Dwight looks at the cloths near him, taking in the shiny brocades and colorful batiks. Nothing that he himself would wear, but beautiful nonetheless.

Carl ducks into the tent, eyeing each and every fabric with interest. This, however, is not for him even if he is searching for something that feels wonderful against his fingers and looks pleasing to the eye.

Red like rubies, blood, roses catches his eye. A silken scarf, sewn like a cravat much fancier than the ones he had worn for daily-wear. It’s made to be layered, eye catching like a bird’s plumage. It’s perfect.

Carl pulls it down with careful reverence, silk pooling in his fingers as he makes his way to the Madam of the tent. He gives the greying woman his most charming smile, bowing slightly at the waist across from her at the table.

“Madam, your textiles are exquisite but surely none can match your beauty,” he says. She seems sharply amused by him and offers him the cravat for a fourth when he knows it’s worth at least a half, so he squirrels an entire piece of eight into her hand and mimes kissing her knuckles in thanks before turning to exit and nearly running right into Dwight. “Hello?”

“Oh! Find something you liked?” Dwight asks, eyes running down Carl to find his purchase. Red? Dwight thought surely Carl was going to try and replace the golden cloth he’d given him, so seeing red is a bit interesting. And it’s such a Negan red. “Wanna put it in the bag?”

Carl eyes the bag with slight horror truly showing his privilege for the first time as he holds the scarf to his chest. “This is silk. Whyever would I crumple it into a bag?”

His eyes flick to the cravat he knows is still around Dwight’s wrist. “Please tell me you haven’t crumpled that satin cravat between hard fabrics.”

“Uhh…” Dwight blinks at Carl for a moment, shifting his sleeve up to look at the golden cloth around his wrist. “I’ll be honest, I had Negan tie it to me to keep it safe, and then I haven’t taken it off again, so…”

“Good, good,” Carl says taking a breath, he strokes along the golden fabric for a moment before snatching his fingers back. “Speaking of, we should get to Lucille before he gets impatient and leaves us.”

Laughing softly, Dwight nods and turns to lead the way. “He would never.”

Some of the supplies they bought is already being delivered to the ship as they arrive. Barrels and boxes of food being carted up the gangplank by strong men had them waiting their turn to get aboard, but they do.

“You were going to grab something from your bunk, right?” Dwight asks as he looks around for Negan, spotting him up by the wheel. He waves, and Negan waves back.

“Ah, in a moment,” Carl allows as they climb aboard deck. Dwight is already making a beeline for the pirate captain and Carl allows himself to follow. Waiting while the two greet each other before moving in for his own greeting.

“Bend down,” Carl says, with an emphasis of jabbing fingers at Negan’s waist.

“Yes, sir.”

He’s taller than Dwight even as Carl lifts up on his toes to throw the scarf around his throat. The color looks right there, roguish and handsome against Negan’s sun dark skin. “There, now you won’t have to be jealous any longer.”

Now you’ll both have something to remember me by, goes unsaid.

Negan’s cheeky smile drops into something a bit more genuine and a little surprised as he straightens back up and touches the scarf. “You… got this for me?” he asks, reverence in his tone as he feels the quality of the silk. It could have been made from hay for all he cares, just the fact that Carl thought about him was the real gift.

He swallows the emotion in his throat and tucks the scarf into the front of his coat, so it’s secure around his neck, before reaching out to pull Carl into a hug. “Thank you, Carl,” he says into his ear, pressing a kiss to his temple before pulling away.

“It’s not a big deal.” Carl can feel his face heating once more, which is far too much for one day, and he will be stopping it immediately. He pats the captain on the back hesitantly, his bangles clicking together. “They never told me all you pirates were so touchy feely.”

Negan laughs and takes hold of Carl’s hand before he can withdraw it. He holds it as he slips his thumb down Carl’s palm to his wrist, rubbing against the thin skin beneath the bracelets. “Don’t spread it around. You’ll ruin our reputation.” He winks and releases Carl.

“I think it’s very sweet that you chose to buy Negan something,” Dwight says, reaching up to feel the silk scarf. Negan tilts his chin up to give him ample touching room and also to preen. “And you did such a good job. It suits him well.”

“Of course it does,” Carl says, voice thin from the rasp of Negan’s calloused finger rubbing the sensitive skin of his wrist. His eyes can’t seem to stray from the sight of Dwight’s hand along Negan’s throat. “I have taste.”

Dwight rolls his eyes as Negan chuckles. “I suppose you do.” Dwight tugs softly at the scarf, making Negan playfully snap his teeth at Dwight’s fingers to make him let go. “Ah, you brute.”

Snickering, Negan turns and looks over the ship, chest and ego puffed with his new accessory. “It looks like things are going well here. We could probably head off if we’re ready. I heard something about visiting the bathhouse, and I am excited.” His eyebrows bounce as he shifts on his feet like there’s too much energy inside and it’s ready to burst.

“Need to grab some stuff,” Carl says, about-facing and making his way down from the helm to the brig.

He digs through his coat, pulling out first the bundle that is his extra shirt and pair of stockings before searching through his other pockets. He pulls the small cloth bag from one of his deeper pockets and paws through the paper wrapped cubes within selecting three. Lemon, cedar, and coffee go into his pants pocket and he grabs the roll of clothes.

Trooping back up the stairs, he rejoins the two pirates on the deck. “I brought extra soap in case you two didn’t have any.”

“Soap? Kid plans an assassination and brings soap with him!” Negan says with a laugh, but he sounds more interested than not.

“Thank you, Carl. They will be put to good use,” Dwight says, waving Negan off. His bag is a bit bulkier now, filled with Negan’s set of clean clothes now along with his.

They wait until the gangplank is free once again to disembark and head into town once again.

Carl squirrels his bundle of clothes into Dwight’s bag since his pants are already in there and rolls his eyes at the captain.

“It was to wash your blood off in the event I lived,” he comments snarkily well knowing that’s not why he had it at all.

“Uh huh. Sure it was.” Negan leads the trio once again as they begin their walk, head swiveling to look about as they go. His hat is gone, left in his room, so it’s easier to see his face as he makes expressions at the animals and people around them.

“I’d think you would be more used to this,” Carl comments, sidestepping a lemur that goes streaking down the street with a man chasing it. The step has him nearly bumping right into Negan. “Considering how familiar you are.”

“Just cause I’m familiar with it doesn’t mean it isn’t exciting,” Negan says, instinctively reaching a hand out to catch Carl as he comes close. “Plus, there’s always new things to find.”

Carl is too busy snatching the passing man’s mostly empty coin purse to pay much attention to the hand at his back. “I did see these huge aloe plants near the beach. I want to cut some later, but I need to find a glass maker first.”

“Glass maker?” Dwight asks from the other side of Negan, looking down the line at Carl. “What would you need a glass maker for in order to cut a bit of a plant?”

“Aloe is good for sunburn, burn creams, and it’s an interesting snack,” Carl tells him. “I don’t have any empty jars in my coat.”

“Huh.” Both pirates think about that for a moment, imagining the texture in their mouth with shivers.

“Think you could use it for-” Negan goes to make a jerking off motion, but Dwight smacks his hand down after one pump.

“Don’t you dare. I’m not dealing with your whining again when your dick stings because you put some weird goo on it.”

“Aw, that was one time.”

“You can,” Carl says, without meaning to actually answer. He puffs his cheeks out with air, breathing out with a hiss as he averts his gaze. “Generally speaking it’s good for your skin and natural.”

Dwight looks horrified.

Negan looks ecstatic.

“Kid, I’m gonna buy you the biggest fuckin’ jar.”

“Oh, someone kill me now.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when I get my aloe covered hands on you.”

Dwight balks at the notion, but his face goes red and he doesn’t disagree.

Carl clears his throat and chooses now whether he’s willing to commit to this line of information. Deciding he’s already halfway there he opens his mouth to inform them- “Coconut oil is better.”

As a matter of fact he should probably get more of that as well, considering he brought the last of his for his hair. He makes a mental note of that.

Negan’s eyes and grin are so wide while Dwight looks like he wishes he was buried in a hole. “Carl, please. Stop encouraging him.”

“Carl, please. Tell me everything.” Negan wraps his arm around Carl’s shoulders and pulls him in conspiratorially. “Or, better yet, you got any on you? We could test it out together later. You, and me, and Dwight makes three. He’s complaining now, but I bet he’d love having both of us-”

“Look! We’re here!” Dwight just about shouts, tugging on Negan’s free arm to drag him away from Carl. “Come along! Don’t dawdle!”

“I have to restock,” Carl says, considering moving out from under the man’s arm. He has just decided not to when Dwight pulls him away. “I use it to soften my hair,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “You probably should stop flirting with me, it clearly makes Dwight uncomfortable.”

And he doesn’t want them fighting because of him again.

Both men stop and turn to look at Carl, Dwight’s face paling just as fast as it had blushed earlier. “Ah, no, no! It’s not… I’m not… uncomfortable. I, uh…” He shakes his head, looking to Negan for help.

“He’s flustered,” Negan provides, moving to wrap his arm around Dwight’s waist. He smiles as he noses at Dwight’s jaw, making the man in question even more flustered. “‘Cause he likes what I’m saying. ‘Cause he won’t say it himself.”

Dwight huffs softly, face gone pink, but he looks to Carl and nods, confirming Negan’s words.

Carl’s neck heats and his chest hurts, indignation burning through him. It’s fine if it’s a joke, Negan seems just notoriously unserious after all.

“I am not a whore,” he snaps, blinking away any wetness in his eyes. “If you’re looking for a fun time I can direct you to at least three brothels.” There are, after all, many at this port.

“Oh… Carl, no. That’s not…” Dwight glances around before taking Carl’s hand and tugging them off the road and to a shaded area next to the bathhouse building where it’s quieter and there are less prying eyes. Negan follows, standing with his back to the road to help block them in even more.

“Kid, that’s not what I meant,” he says with a sigh, frown tugging at his lips. “I mean, it’s what I meant, but it’s not…”

“Negan, please shut up before you make it worse,” Dwight whispers, making Negan look like a kicked puppy as his shoulders fall and imaginary tail gets tucked between his legs.

Dwight looks back to Carl and bites his lip, suddenly nervous. “What he’s trying to say is that we know you’re not a whore,” he says quietly. “We like you Carl. For you. It’s in Negan’s nature to flirt and be crude, he just went a little far, I think. Is that right?”

“Well, it’s certainly what it sounds like isn’t it?” Carl seethes, pulling his hands from Dwight with a gentleness that rather contradicts his tone of voice. Carl crosses his arms, quite clearly closing himself off, protecting himself. “Wouldn’t you think the same? Two attractive men flirting with you to get you into their bed full knowing they plan to leave you somewhere never to be heard from again.”

Carl clicks his tongue and looks away, not wanting to see Dwight’s pitying gaze. “A bit far.”

“Leave you somewhere?” Dwight’s eyebrows pinch as he tries to figure out what Carl means. “Why would we just leave you… Oh. Oh, you mean take you home. To Alexandria.”

“Oh, fuck…” Negan rubs at his face with a groan. “Shit, Carl. I didn’t even think about that. You fit in so well with the crew, and just became a regular part of the day, I didn’t even consider…”

They’re quiet for a beat before Dwight says, “Do you want to go back?” almost too softly to hear.

Carl lets out a bitter laugh shaking his head almost exasperated. “Who sends themself on a certain death mission if they’re happy at home?” He throws his hands up for emphasis. “Of course I don’t want to go back!”

Dwight and Negan are quiet for a long moment, each studying Carl and doing the math in their head.

“Then… don’t?” Negan says it like a question, but there’s a spark of something like hope in his tone. “I only offered to take you back because I thought that’s what you wanted. Also, at the time, I think you still hated me. Do you still hate me?”

“Negan, that’s not the issue right now,” Dwight says, reaching out to gently touch Carl’s arm. “Carl, what do you want?”

“I never hated you,” Carl huffs. “I wanted pirates to stop endangering my baby sister!”

Carl takes a breath, attempting to cool his head. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t want to go home. I know that. I never wanted to be there, not after… Just- I would stay on the ship if I were welcome to,” he finally confesses.

“Of course you are!

“You’re so welcome!”

The two responses came at once, the pirates sharing a look and laughing.

“Look, we like you, Carl,” Negan says, stepping closer and crouching down so he’s not crowding Carl. “And I don’t just mean in a ‘wanna fuck you’ way. If you wanted me to be hands off, flirting off, with you, I would. You just say the word and I back off, okay? That’s not why we want you to stay, is what I’m saying.”

It’s, well, it’s different having to look down at Negan. He’s still roguishly handsome but his eyes are so much more detailed from this close. Carl looks away taking a breath and rolling his shoulders.

“I’m, it’s fine… I need, I need to adjust to whatever this is,” he pauses nodding to himself, “I’ve spent the last day and a half thinking I was going to have to jump ship while you cast off.”

He licks over his bottom lip and tilts his head back to the road. “Let’s go take a bath, okay?”

“Sure, kid.” Negan smiles and squeezes Carl’s arm softly before standing up and ushering the other two back to the bathhouse.

“You were gonna just stay here? Let us sail away without you?” Dwight asks quietly, walking close next to Carl. “Think I woulda been heartbroken, lad. I’m glad we got this figured out.”

“It wouldn’t have been a bad life,” Carl says with a shrug, trying not to put too much weight on Dwight's admission. “I could open my shop here even if it were just a tent in the market.” He nudges his shoulder against Dwight’s arm as they walk. “Besides, if I stayed here you would have seen me again.”

“Not as often as I would have liked,” Dwight says, ruffling Carl’s hair.

The bathhouse from the outside is one of the largest buildings in town. It has a large wraparound porch elevating it slightly off the ground, and chimneys above letting out steam. Surprisingly, it’s one of the only all wooden buildings in the area.

Climbing the steps, the trio enter into a reception area. A woman with a fox mask on greets them from behind a short counter, and Negan goes to talk to her.

“You ever been to one of these before?” Dwight asks Carl, waiting patiently as Negan books the room.

“No,” Carl says, tracing the details of the woman’s mask with his eyes. It’s pretty, exotic to him like all the things in this port. “We had a tub at home for once a week and wash stands,” he tells them, well knowing he was privileged to have these things. “Anything I should know?”

“We can explain it when we get to the room,” Dwight says. “It’s simple enough.”

Negan turns away from the counter and waves a key attached to a red feather. “We’re in room six. Let’s go.”

Heading down the hall, each door they pass is marked by a different color feather. The sound of running water echoes from everywhere, the temperature noticeably warmer than the outside. When they reach the red feather door, Negan unlocks it and holds it open. “After you.”

The room is good sized, floor to ceiling windows on the wall across from the door letting in tons of sunlight. Most of the room is taken up by a square pool built into and flush to the floor. The water bubbles softly, soft waves of steam floating up from it. Off to the side is another room divided from the main by a wooden privacy screen. Towels and storage are provided by a bookshelf on the other side near the door.

Bathing naked and alone with two men who he just figured out want to keep him, who he has understandably complicated feelings about, is probably not the best idea in the entire world. But Carl cannot find it in himself to be too worried when he sees the bathing chamber, washed in sunlight and full of hot water.

The room almost seems too peaceful for any distress he may have about the situation.

“What is the other room?” he questions curiously, making his way over to the shelving unit. He begins pulling the jewelry he’s amassed off. Six rings, four bracelets, and two necklaces make their way onto the shelf while he waits for a response.

“That’s where you actually wash off,” Dwight says, coming over and placing the bag of their clothes in another spot. His eyes flick to the jewelry before he turns and points towards the screen. “There’s a trough of flowing water against the wall and some small buckets, usually a stool to sit on.”

Negan walks over and folds back the screen to show Carl the room. “Drain on the floor catches all the water you use. I don’t know how it works, but it’s great.“

“Yeah, so you wash and get clean there, and then come back in here to sit and soak.” Dwight points to the pool. “This is heated by a hot spring under the building, so it feels fantastic.”

Carl drops the three coin purses he has with the jewelry and begins to unlatch his vest nodding along to their explanation. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they catch the water to filter and purify it or if it leads to some sort of irrigation system for crops.”

He folds his vest over and lays it on the shelf before dipping his hands into his pockets. He pulls out the small cubes of paper wrapped soap, holding the lemon out to Dwight and the cedar to Negan. “Here.”

He sets his own soap cube on the shelf with the two vials he brought so that he can reach behind his head to begin pulling off his shirt.

“Oh, is this the soap?” Dwight asks, lifting his to his nose and inhaling. “Mm.” Negan does the same, humming in delight, before he starts shedding his layers as well.

“Would you like to wash by yourself?” Negan asks, eyes flicking to the skin Carl is revealing. “Dwight and I can wait and wash together when you’re done. You can have first takes of the hot bath.”

“Uncharacteristically thoughtful of you,” Carl says, yanking his shirt over his head. He folds it over and stacks it on top of his vest. “I think,” he says, kicking his boots off with a little hop for each one, “that I might as well get used to you two if I’m to be trapped aboard a ship with you.”

He keeps his eyes to himself, knowing that the calm that the room has imbued in him will probably dissipate as soon as he focuses on either man.

“Trapped is a bit harsh,” Dwight says from where he’s also removing his boots, already topless. “But, listen, if you get uncomfortable at all, just say something. It’s okay.”

Negan hums his agreement, before looking towards Dwight. “Ah, Ezekiel smeared some paste on me and re-bandaged me up. He said not to get them wet, so I may need help.” The new bandages are clean and tight, wrapped around under his arm and plastered on with the medicine.

“That’s fine, hun. I can do that.”

Carl eyes the bandaging, ignoring the tattoos that seem to be begging for attention. “He should have used fish skin rather than cloth bandages, you quite literally live on water.”

Carl grimaces, finding that it’s probably not best to be insulting anything King Ezekiel has done especially in correcting Carl’s own actions.

He looks back down, undoing the fly of his pants and beginning to shed them along with his smalls. He folds them over, and snatches his stockings from his knees and feet, trying to ignore how completely and utterly bare he is as he trades the socks for his cube of soap. He peels the paper off of the coffee soap and begins to step towards the cleaning room.

“I’ll ask him about that before we leave,” Negan says, finding himself distracted by pale skin, untouched but for a shoddy scar below his right rib. He doesn’t get to look long before Dwight is snapping fingers in his face and giving him a hard look. Negan looks sheepish as he finishes getting undressed and unwraps his own soap.

Once Dwight is bare and all the clothes are stashed, the two men follow Carl, leaving the screen open since they’re all there anyway. “Where’d you get this soap, anyway?” Dwight asks, setting his cube down on the ledge of the trough and dipping his hands into the clean water. “It smells very good. Citrusy.”

“Citrus?” Negan smells his again. “Mine smells like a forest.” He steps up next to Dwight, putting him in the middle so they don’t trap Carl in.

“Made it,” Carl mumbles, basking in the warm waterfall that feeds into the trough, so distracted by the clean water beginning to soak his hair that he’s hardly even paying attention to the pirates. “You guys have lemon and cedar ones,” he clarifies, beginning to lather his coffee one in his hands. Like Dwight’s which has zest in it, Carl’s has coffee grounds throughout the little cube.

He begins scrubbing the soapy residue through his hair, working some of the knots out as he goes. Soft noises of discontent escape him with every more troublesome knot he hits. “Of course the one thing I wouldn’t bring would be a comb,” he grumbles under his breath.

“He made it,” Dwight says under his breath, examining the cube with even more awe as he begins to suds up and wash his arms.

Negan scrubs his hair first, keeping his head angled down to make sure water doesn’t run onto his bandage. It’s already a nuisance, and he’s debating about saying fuck it and just letting Ezekiel be mad at him later. “I’m sure there’s one back at the castle,” he says, rinsing out by scooping some water up in the small bucket provided and pouring it over his head. He shakes like a dog, making Dwight tut at him.

“I’ll get one from the market,” Carl decides, ignoring the spray of water from Negan’s direction as he rinses out his hair. “I saw a set that comes with decorative French combs and barrettes.”

He probably has enough stolen funds to not even have to touch the money he was given by Dwight for the combs. He begins soaping his body up, rejoicing in the way the coffee grounds in the soap scratch away the salt on his body and loosen his tight dry skin.

“Barrettes? Cute.” Negan gets as far as he can washing his lower half and torso before he plops down on the stool and whines at Dwight. Rolling his eyes, Dwight carries over a bucket of water and gets to work scrubbing Negan’s back and everything around the bandages.

“Mm. Quite like the cedar one too. You smell… rugged,” Dwight says, pressing a kiss to Negan’s head and taking a deep inhale of his clean hair. Negan smiles and chuckles, practically glowing under the attention.

“You would not be mocking me if you had to deal with hair as long as mine,” Carl huffs. He glances over, keeping his eyes firmly up. “That one was a lot harder to make. I didn’t know if the scent would take just letting the soap cure in a jar full of cedar smoke like that.”

“Well, it worked out,” Dwight says, rinsing any last soap suds off of Negan and checking him over for any last dirt. They switch spots so Negan can do Dwight’s back and hair, making him shiver as Negan practically turns it into a head massage.

“Also, I wasn’t mocking you,” Negan says with a soft huff, glancing to and away from Carl. “If you ever want help with your hair, I’d be glad to offer a hand. I know how to finger comb and braid and shit.”

Carl wisely chooses not to point out that he knows enough updos and braids that he could pass for a woman in court if he had enough hair. Instead he nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Carl finishes rinsing off and lingers under the shower for a moment before leaving them to their own devices and making his way back to the bath room. He stops by the shelf, laying his half used soap in the paper wrapper to dry and grabbing the two vials.

He steps into the bath, carefully, and settles in on the bench around the sides. Just enjoying the deeply hot water encasing his skin for a long few moments. He needed this.

The other two spend a little more time getting clean and talking softly to each other, giving Carl time to soak without their presence so close. They can tell he’s a little on edge with the way he’s avoiding eye contact, but so far think it’s going quite well.

Once they’re done, they store their soaps as well and then enter into the bath with deep sighs.

“Oh, fuck. That’s good,” Negan groans, making sure his bandaged shoulder is above the water line. He’s chosen the side across from Carl to sit down at, and Dwight follows, sitting beside him.

“Mm. I always forget just how good the hot water feels,” he says, leaning against Negan and closing his eyes.

Carl hums his agreement, opening his eyes to grab the vial that has coconut oil in it. Careful not to spill any he spreads it over his hands and begins to finger-comb it through his hair. He does this until his hair is lightly saturated with the oil and then he twists the hair over his shoulder so it won’t drag in the water, rubbing his hands together until the remaining oil has soaked into his skin.

“I brought this one for you two,” he says picking up the other vial.

Eyeing the space in between them, Carl frowns. He doesn’t want to throw the vial knowing one of them might not catch it or it could fall short into the water. So he pushes off of the bench, getting to his feet, and takes the couple of steps across the pool to hold the vial out to Negan who hasn’t closed his eyes yet.

“It’s for your beards,” he informs the man. Truly he can’t imagine how dry the skin under their facial hair is. He almost wrinkles his nose at the thought, itchy comes to mind.

“That’s mighty fine of you, lad,” Negan says with a smile, keeping his gaze up at Carl’s face and definitely not at the water dripping down his chest now that he’s stood up. Negan takes a breath and wraps his arm around Dwight, giving his hip a squeeze.

Maybe it’s the warm water, maybe it’s the soft noise Dwight makes, maybe it’s just cause Carl is standing so close and looks so pretty, but Negan can’t help to say, “I do seem to have my hands full right now. Think I might need you to apply that on for me.”

Making Dwight move because Negan is being an ass genuinely sounds like the worst idea Carl has ever had. So he sighs and shifts, sitting on his knees at Negan’s other side.

“I chose grape seed oil because of its light scent so you wouldn’t get a headache but now you’re going to have to deal with coconut too,” Carl says, part lecturing as he pours some of the oil into the palm of one hand before corking the vial again and setting it aside.

He grabs Negan’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, and turns the man to look in his direction. Rubbing the oil on both hands liberally, he reaches up and cradles the man’s bearded cheeks. He takes care to focus his eyes only on Negan’s beard as he massages the oil through the bristly hair all the way through to the skin.

Carl fears what he will show if he is to meet the pirate’s eyes.

Negan hums, surprised that Carl would actually touch him and not just throw the bottle in Negan’s face. He smiles softly, eyes falling half lidded as he sinks into the massage. Carl’s hands are soft, the few days of ship work not enough to callous them quite yet, and smell of his coconut oil. Negan knows his hair will also smell of it, and wants so desperately to sink his nose into those soft locks.

“Grape seed oil is my favorite,” Carl murmurs if only to fill the silence. “It’s a wonderful base for any scented oil and it’s good for your skin. It was also easy to get in Alexandria.” Carl nudges Negan’s head back so that he can massage the oil into the hair under his chin and down part of his neck. “I’ll probably miss my supplies the most, but I’m sure my mother has already gotten rid of it all even if I did go back.”

“We can get you more,” Negan murmurs, his voice vibrating through Carl’s fingers so near to his throat. “Whatever you want. Whatever you need.” If it made Carl happy, Negan would get him the world. “You obviously really like making this kinda thing. How’d you get into it?”

“I got shot when I was a kid,” Carl says with a shrug, ignoring the warm feeling spreading through his chest at the pirate's words. “Hershel Greene patched me up because it happened on his property, and Alexandria’s doctor was too far away helping a mother give birth.”

He could probably stop now, let Negan go and move on to Dwight, and he will in a minute, but for now he makes sure he’s gotten every inch of the man’s beard.

“They were scared to move me until I could walk on my own again,” he continues, “and Hershel’s wife used to make soap and some of the tinctures for the animals. I learned some from watching her and figured out the rest on my own.”

“Damn, you’re tough and smart, huh? Is that what made that scar on your ribs?” Negan’s free hand moves to motion toward Carl, the water splashing gently. He doesn’t touch him, but it’s a close thing. “The shot?”

“Yeah,” Carl breathes, the praise washing through him to join the warmth in his chest. He pats the side of Negan’s face twice before pulling back and grabbing the vial.

He stands, walking around the two and getting in his knees again, this time beside Dwight. “Alright, my dear, I’m going to need you to move a bit,” he says gently, taking Dwight’s jaw between his hands and shifting his head so he’s facing Carl a little more and leaning back on Negan’s shoulder.

Dwight hums, cracking open his eyes to look at Carl as he lets him move him about. Negan watches with interest, loosening his hold on Dwight to make his shifting easier.

Coating his hands in more oil, Carl begins the process again on Dwight’s more tapered facial hair.

“Oh, that does feel good,” Dwight murmurs, pressing into Carl’s hands as his eyes falls shut again.

“Carl’s takin’ such good care of us,” Negan purrs, entranced with the way Carl’s lithe fingers move over Dwight’s face.

“He sure is.”

“Christ,” Carl huffs under his breath, digging his teeth into the side of his mouth in hopes the pain will help distract him from the two men and their incessant praise.

We’re practically in public, he reminds himself, digging his fingers under the hair at the jut of Dwight’s jaw.

Dwight tries to hold back a whine at the press to the sensitive area, but a small noise escapes him. He swallows and hopes the warm water has flushed his skin enough to hide the pink surely climbing his cheeks.

Carl’s mouth drops slightly open, jaw flexing as he snaps his mouth shut, swallowing heavily. That sound might haunt him the rest of his days.

Negan smiles behind Dwight, eyes flicking up to Carl’s face. “Do let us know if there’s anything we can do for you in return, Carl.”

His eyes flick to Negan, betraying him as he thumbs along the hair trailing down to Dwight’s throat. “I, I’m sure there’s not, this is nothing really.” He looks back down to where his hands are working.

Tilting his head back, Dwight lets out another noise in a sigh, opening his eyes to look at Negan behind him. Negan smiles and presses a kiss to Dwight’s forehead, his eyes still on Carl. “It’s not just nothing to us, Carl. Whatever you’d like us to do for you, you let us know, okay?”

Carl allows himself one last caress of Dwight’s jaw before finally pulling away. They’ve already given him freedom, what more could he ask for?

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Carl hums, shifting to sit fully a little ways from Dwight to stretch out his legs, aching from sitting on his knees for so long.

“Please do,” Dwight says, sitting up slightly so he can reach up and feel his own beard and then Negan’s. “Oh, this is lovely. Thank you, Carl. Truly.”

“You know we’ll have to have you do this again,” Negan says with a laugh, sliding his fingers along Dwight’s hip and thigh under the water. “You’ve spoiled us.”

“You have shelving in the brig,” Carl comments, leaning back against the wall of the basin and closing his eyes so they won’t follow the line of Negan’s arm down into the water. “I’ll figure out how to make it hold jars and soap making tools,” he decides softly, hoping he isn’t overstepping. Just because they’re keeping him doesn’t mean he can change and take. “It’s going to take a while to find everything I had before.”

“Sounds good to me,” Negan says, silently looking to Dwight and then nodding towards Carl. Dwight looks over and then back at Negan, brows dipping in confusion. “I think at this rate, the brig is yours to do what you want with. We never really use it for its intended purpose anyway.” Negan gestures towards Carl with his chin and then gives Dwight a little push, encouraging him without a word.

Dwight’s brows lift as he understands, and though he rolls his eyes, he scoots closer to Carl. “Yes, and if you want to dictate me a list, we can keep an eye out for stuff at all our stops.”

“Better if I’m there for most things,” Carl brushes off paying no attention to the shifting water. “If you aren’t familiar with the costs you’ll be taken advantage of.”

They’ll be here for a few more days yet, he’ll have time to crawl through the markets and the local ecosystem once more.

Dwight and Negan have more of their silent conversation, Dwight unsure what Negan wants out of this, and Negan mostly just letting his curiosity and dick take the reins.

“I see. It would also be easier for you to spot other things you may need that you didn’t think of before hand,” Dwight says, close enough to Carl now that he can smell the coffee and coconut mixing on him. He reaches out, unsure where he can touch that won’t scare the boy too bad. Definitely nothing below the belt, he knows, so maybe…

Gently, Dwight touches down onto Carl’s shoulder and then slides his fingers to his long hair. “May I? I know it’s still wet, but it just looks so soft.”

Carl jumps slightly at the touch, eyes flying open. They instinctively go to the shelving where his weapons still lean before flicking back to Dwight. He doesn’t see why the man would want to touch his hair, it’s already been combed through with coconut oil and twisted around so that once it dries his normal waves will be manageable.

“I… you probably shouldn’t, I don’t want the oil coming out,” Carl says, feeling completely out of place and wanting not to disappoint the man. “Perhaps when it’s dry?”

“Ah, I see. Okay. When it’s dry,” Dwight says with a smile and a nod. He lets his fingers skim back over Carl’s shoulder and then down his arm before returning to his own lap. He sighs and sinks a little farther into the water, coming eye to eye level with Carl. “You said something about opening a shop before. Is your soap and tonics what you would sell?”

“It’s what I wanted to do before…” Carl’s voice falls a bit, memories for his family clogging. He changes tracks. “Before they told me I had to start looking for a wife.”

It isn’t a lie necessarily, just the last thing in a long line of things that made him feel hopelessly trapped. “Perhaps it will be my retirement plan from the sea,” he says, mouth ticking up at the reminder of what Dwight had said before.

“Sounds as good a plan as any,” Dwight says, bumping his knee against Carl’s. He leans his head back and sighs, before letting it lull over to bump against Carl’s shoulder. “I also had family that were pushing me for marriage, something to bring in money. Tried setting me up with a few ladies. Didn’t realize why I never liked any of ‘em until I realized my… proclivities weren’t in line with them.”

“I could have pretended,” Carl confesses, letting his shoulders relax a bit so that Dwight can make himself comfortable if he wishes. “It would have killed me, but I could have done it.”

“I couldn’t. More for the lady than for my sake,” Dwight says, shifting to rest more on Carl. “The thought of being with someone who doesn’t truly want me is devastating. I would never want to put anyone else through that.”

“I suppose that makes you better than me,” Carl allows, taking a breath, “but before everything happened I would have done anything for my family.”

He would have killed for them, died for them, and yes, even married for them. He still would, for Judith, he’s sure.

“Sounds very noble of you,” Dwight murmurs, finding Carl’s hand beneath the water and squeezing it in his.

Carl flips his hand, letting Dwight lock their fingers together. “I don’t know about noble.”

The water shifts as Negan scoots closer to Dwight’s free side, running a hand down Dwight’s arm. “I was expecting y’all to be a little more handsy and instead you got sappy on me.”

“Ah, fuck off. We’re allowed a bonding moment.” Dwight laughs, not moving from his spot on Carl.

“I think you’re handsy enough for the three of us,” Carl comments readily.

“Mm, only if you’ll let me be,” Negan says with a grin, sliding his hand along Dwight’s inner thigh. Dwight clenches his legs together to trap Negan’s hand and stop it from going higher, squeezing Carl’s hand at the same time.

“Honestly, you’re insatiable. You’re gonna scare Carl off.”

Carl sighs at the pirate captain’s antics. “Well he hasn’t managed yet.”

Tilting his head to look down the line past Dwight, Carl levels the man with a dull look. “You realize, if you make a mess of this pool I’m throwing you to the wolves when the staff gets upset.”

Negan snorts and tugs his hand out from Dwight’s thighs. “As if they’ve never had to deal with it before,” he says, but holds his hand up in surrender. “Alright, though. Have it your way. We should probably be getting out soon anyway. Too long in the hot water ain’t good for ya.”

Carl sighs a little at having to leave the sun soaked bath but nods. Gently pulling his fingers from Dwight’s, he nudges the man into a sitting position and gets to his feet.

“Do we have anything else planned for today?” He questions, sloshing some of the water from his body before climbing out and making his way over to the bath sheets.

“Don’t think so, besides maybe some dinner later,” Dwight says with a shrug and a yawn as he stands and then helps Negan up. They follow Carl out, grabbing towels and drying off. “Why? Got something you want to do?”

“Need to find a glass maker,” Carl comments as he pulls on his extra smalls and knee stockings. Reaching out to grasp the trousers he took from the castle, he continues, “Also figure out how to safely store things on the Lucille.”

“Right, right.” Dwight nods, pulling on the fresh clothes he took from the castle. His whole outfit is something new and clean and in lighter colors than he had before, making him look extra soft and his skin rosy pink. He wraps Carl’s golden fabric around his neck with a simple loop to keep it secure.

Negan also pulls on clean clothes, though his are his typical black, now with the splash of red from Carl’s scarf. “You want us with you, or you want to go off by yourself?” he asks, watching as Dwight yawns again.

“Seems rude to send my dirty clothes back with you,” Carl comments, eyeing the pile. He’s belting his weapons on over his shirt, grabbing up his various accoutrements and putting them on or stowing them away. “You are invited, of course, I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to anyway,” Carl says with a smile though his eyes stray to Dwight. “You do seem pretty tired though.”

Securing his bag over his shoulder, Dwight rubs at his eyes and shrugs. “It’s the hot water. It always makes me sleepy.”

“We’ll head back to the castle and get you in for a nap, love,” Negan says, tucking his dirty clothes into the bag and placing a kiss to Dwight’s temple. “Carl, if you don’t want to come back with us, just give us your dirty clothes. Gonna have ours washed anyway, we can just do it all at once.”

Handing over his clothes, feeling even more naked than he already did without his vest, Carl gives Dwight a soft look. Feeling it might come off a little patronizing to wish the man a nice nap, Carl turns his attention on the captain.

“You’re sure you don’t mind me taking over and changing your brig?” After what happened the last time he took and changed something (something that wasn’t his intention in the first place) Carl is understandably hesitant.

“Do it, kid,” Negan says with a slightly feral grin. “I’m kinda excited to see what you come up with to be honest.”

“It’ll be like having an apothecary on board,” Dwight says, fitting Carl’s clothes into the bag. It’s a little full now, but still able to close and latch. “I’m sure the rest of crew won’t mind either. Maybe you can charge them for things. Run a store out of the brig.” He chuckles, imagining them having a little shop aboard.

“We’ll see about that when it comes time,” Negan says, making sure they have everything, double-checking the storage shelves and patting his pockets. “I think we’re good to go.”

Carl shakes his head, making his way to the door to hold it open for the two pirates. “Feels silly to charge a crew I would be part of, unless someone is just demanding a lot.”

“Think it was just a heat induced idea from Dwight. Don’t worry over it too much,” Negan says with a shrug, guiding Dwight to the door.

Once they’re all out in the hall, Carl gestures a bit vaguely. “If I want extra funds I can always sell my excess to places like this and the like when we make port.”

“Sure. Don’t see why not.” As they reach the front, Negan returns the key to the front desk with a thank you and then leads the way back out to the road. “Alright, we’re gonna head back up this way. If you need us, you know where to find us. I think your glass maker may be down that side street there.” Negan points to a little offshoot of buildings before looking back to Carl. He reaches out to give him a pat on the head, careful not to mess up his damp hair. “Be careful, okay?”

Carl rolls his eyes. “I’m always careful,” he huffs, waving over his shoulder as he splits off from the two pirates.

Chapter 9

Summary:

Errands are run and dinner with the king is had.

Notes:

R: Already on chapter 9!! This one is very fluffy~ Enjoy!

 

The market, though visually different from any he’s been to, works just the same. He haggles with the glassmaker until he’s sure the glassmaker will never attempt to pull one over on him again, and has a selection of different jars and vials sent to the ship. The crate and straw packing of the glass gives him a wonderful idea for the storage in the brig, so he ends up visiting a few of the farms they saw on the way back to the castle.

He garners promises of a few small crates stuffed with straw from one of the older farmers in exchange for some of his pepper oils to use on the man’s aching hands. They’re to meet at the ship on the morrow in the afternoon which suits Carl wonderfully enough. It will give him the morning to gather ingredients from both the land and the market unless his pirates have a need for him.

Feeling pleased with his progress, Carl makes his way the rest of the way back to the castle a few rings heavier and three coins lighter. Making his way through the stone halls, he finds the rooms they stayed in again, tapping first on Dwight’s door and then, once he hasn’t gotten any response, on Negan’s.

There’s some shuffling in the room before the door opens, revealing Negan in a loose shirt open down to his sternum, a few tattoos on display, and soft pants. The scarf Carl got him is looped through the belt loops but left untied.

“Hi, lad. Have a good time shopping?” He stands aside and waves Carl into the room with a small book in his hand. There’s a lump in the bed beneath the blankets that can only be Dwight, sleeping peacefully.

“Hm,” Carl nods, eyeing the bed. He keeps his voice low as he steps in, “he really was tired, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s right conked out. Don’t worry about waking him though.”

Negan’s room has a similar window to Dwight’s with a good lip to lounge in and Carl is already making his way over to it before he realizes what he’s doing and jerks to an aborted stop. He blinks, glancing back at Negan. “I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out my storage issue, and I got the glassware I needed.”

Closing the door, Negan follows Carl, heading back to the table near the window where the chair he’d been in is pulled out. “Good! What ended up being the solution?” he asks, sitting down and offering the other chair to Carl with a wave of his hand.

Carl lowers himself into the extra chair feeling out of sorts for some reason. “The glass maker was transporting the glass in boxes of straw. I made a deal with a farmer for some crates and straw.” He curls his legs up in the chair to try and make himself more comfortable. “I’m meeting him at the Lucille tomorrow after I go ingredients hunting- unless you guys need me for something.”

Negan hums and lays his book down, running his fingers over the cover. “We’ve got nothing else planned for the rest of the week. You’re free to do as you want.” Negan cocks his head and twirls his hand about, excess energy always trying to find a way out. “Mostly I see Dwight staying here and relaxing, I’ll visit a few taverns. You can eat meals here with us and Ezekiel, or not. It’s whatever you’d like.”

“I’ll eat with you,” Carl says easily, voice light. “Not like I have many people inviting me to dinner.” He lifts his hands to his eyes and rubs at them feeling suddenly tired. They’ve done a lot today, more than he does even on the boat. “I need to make sure I get a lot more together if I plan to stay on the Lucille.”

Negan nods and smiles. He’s quiet for a moment, looking off out the window. “I’m glad you’re gonna stay,” he says. “Dwight’s glad too. You ever wanna go back to Alexandria to visit or to stay, you let us know, but… We’re happy to have you aboard.”

“I’m glad I get to stay,” Carl admits quietly. He can’t imagine any reason at all why he’d ever want to go back to Alexandria, and he’s about to admit that too when a jaw cracking yawn interrupts him. “Maybe I need a nap too,” he jokes. “When’s dinner?”

“Couple’a hours. Enough time to get a decent nap in.” Negan cocks his head toward the bed. Dwight’s curled up on one side, leaving ample room on the other of the large mattress. “Can use mine, if you like. I’ll wake you both up when it’s time.”

“If you’re sure he won’t mind,” Carl finds himself mumbling.

Carl shouldn’t, is the thing. He really shouldn’t. And yet he is, kicking his boots off and hanging his weapons belt on the bedpost before he can even give himself a chance to argue himself out of it. He lays atop the covers on the empty side of the bed, overlaps his ankles, crosses his arms, and shuts his eyes. He knows without a doubt - even with Dwight’s presence inches away and Negan’s across the room - he’ll fall asleep easily.

Negan just smiles and goes back to his book, ecstatic with Carl’s progress. He was so sure Carl was going to fight him on it, go back to his own room, but seeing him laying next to Dwight…

Oh, be still Negan’s heart.

He almost feels bad shaking them awake a few hours later to inform them that it was time for dinner.

A hand shakes his shoulder and Carl’s own hand snaps out from where it’s been folded, grabbing the wrist of the person touching him. He blinks, adjusting to the low light of the room as his fingers squeeze impossibly tight. Negan’s face swims into his vision.

Letting go, Carl sits up grimacing. “My apologies.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Negan says, shaking out his wrist. “Hell of a grip you got there. You sleep, okay? Hungry?” He presses his hand to Carl’s back, helping him sit up and feeling how sleep warm he is.

“Starved,” Carl mumbles, gently brushing Negan’s hand away so he can grab his sword belt from the bedpost and get to his feet. He bends to grab his boots and eyes the lump in the bed that is Dwight.

It’s almost concerning how long he’s been asleep, and Carl forgets that he should probably wait for Negan to wake the man. Reaching across, he prods gently at the pirate's leg. “Hey, it’s time to eat.”

Dwight groans and pushes the blanket away from his face, stretching his arms out. “Mm… What time is it?”

“Dinner time,” Negan says with a laugh.

Dwight scoffs and pushes up onto his elbows, looking about the room and checking the level of light. He smiles at Carl as well, throwing the rest of the blankets off and swinging his legs out of bed. “You eatin’ with us?”

“Don’t have any other invites,” Carl comments, hopping around as he pulls his boots on, blades bouncing against his side. “Have a nice nap?”

“Mm, yeah.” Dwight rubs at his face, noting the softness of his beard now that the oil Carl put on has soaked in. “Think I got a bit too much actually. Might have trouble falling asleep later tonight.”

“I’ll keep you entertained,” Negan says with a wink, bringing Dwight his boots. “We can even invite Carl again. Him on one side, us on the other. Kid didn’t move an inch while he slept with ya.”

Negan looks to Carl with a raised eyebrow. “You always sleep like that? So… stiff?” He imitates the way Carl’s arms were crossed and fake snores before bursting into giggles at his own joke.

“Considering I don’t snore?” Carl points out, taking his fingers through his hair. “Surprised you didn’t notice when I was in the cage.”

He looks the giggling captain up and down. “Perhaps I’m a more considerate bedfellow, I can only assume you roll around like a hound. Certainly act like one when you’re awake.”

It occurs to him in the back of his mind he’s being rude, but he’s nearly always like that when he’s woken up, and Negan should be more than used to it with how often he wakes him.

“Maybe you should sleep with me and find out for yourself.” Negan realizes that might be a bit too forward only as the words leave his mouth.

Luckily, Dwight snorts and stands up stomping a bit to get his boot all the way on. “He doesn’t roll around, but he will end up just laying over top of you like the heaviest, hottest blanket in the world. It’s great when it’s cold out.”

“You’re so sure I won’t just try and kill you in your bed again?” Carl comments, lifting his brows in Negan’s direction. He’s not serious, necessarily, but he’s also always woken up if people have touched him while he's asleep.

Carl has also never needed a blanket to sleep, takes issue with them getting all wrapped around him and tangled about his legs. He puts up with it in the winter, but he has to admit to himself that a place between the two doesn’t sound so bad at all.

“You said earlier you didn’t hate me,” Negan says with a pout, stepping closer to Carl with a faux whine. “I would hope that means you’d be less stabby with the knife.”

“Who says I’d need a knife?” Carl calls over his shoulder as he pulls the door open and steps out into the hall. Horrifyingly he almost runs into one of the chain-mailed pirates from before and he has to bite down on his tongue to not go utterly and completely red at the sight of him.

After all, assumptions can be made about Carl coming out of this room, especially with Negan and Dwight at his tail.

Negan doesn’t help it with his big mouth calling out, “I mean, if you wanna use your dick, I’m all for it!”

The Kingdom pirate raises an eyebrow as they all show up in the doorway, but doesn’t say anything besides informing them that The King is waiting for them in the dining room.

“Just where we were headed!” Negan says with a grin, hooking his arm around Dwight and Carl and herding them along like nobody’s business.

“Oh my god I’m going to kill you,” Carl whisper hisses, shoving two fingers right into the pirate’s ribs.

“Oof!”

He looks down the line at Dwight. “How do you put up with him?”

Dwight laughs, smile big and eyes shining as he looks back at Carl. “You get used to it. Learn to love it. Part of his charm.” He reaches up and pats Negan’s cheek in a ‘good boy’ way.

“Oh?” Carl hums, “I haven’t heard him be charming yet.”

“Can’t believe I’ve got two of ya ganging up on me.”

He side-eyes Negan. “You wanted this. You’re the one who told me to stay.”

“Aye, I suppose so,” Negan says, squeezing Carl a bit tighter and pressing a kiss to his head.

“He likes it,” Dwight says, also receiving a kiss to his temple. “We have more power over him than I think you realize.”

“No, no. I think he realizes it.”

Carl sucks in a sharp breath through his nose at the touch. He can’t keep dealing with this, this familiarity. Carl slips out from under Negan’s arm to push the door to the dining area open for the two pirates.

“I think you’re both full of it,” Carl comments lightly, half hoping Ezekiel is already in the room and will agree.

By the sound of his boisterous laugh, The King agrees.

“What, pray tell, are these two bastards up to now, Young Carl? Sit! Sit and do tell!” Ezekiel pats the cushion next to him, inviting Carl there with a grin.

“Just Negan’s usual brand of humor, I assure you,” Carl says, smile curling at his mouth as he waits for his two pirates to step into the room before shutting the door.

He walks over, settling on the floor pillow next to Ezekiel. “Nothing new.”

“I see. I see.” Ezekiel nods, patting Carl on the back before gesturing to the food on the table. It’s different from the other day, but no less fresh and colorful. Seems to be a bit more seafood this time mixed in with rice and veggies.

Dwight and Negan take their places and fill their plates with food as Ezekiel fills cups with a white wine and passes them around.

“Tell me about your day, friends. I heard you went to bathe, yes? You’re certainly looking less grimey around the edges.”

Carl fills his plate with buttery fish and steamed vegetables, reaching out to get the thin clam and seaweed soup that’s thankfully much closer to him today. “This place is beautiful, your grace, I believe I could see it a hundred times and still find something new.”

Carl closes his eyes with a pleased hum as he tastes the fish for the first time. The brine of the ocean is hardly present at all. “The bathhouse was an absolute wonder. I fear I could spend all day there.”

“I know what you mean! It is luxurious indeed!” Ezekiel cracks open the crab that is on his plate, digging out the meat with a small fork and dipping it into a small bowl of melted butter. He adds the meat to a pile of rice on his plate before scooping them both up for a bite. “And, Negan, how is the wound?”

“Kept it dry, like you said. Even in the bath,” Negan replies, sipping at his wine. “I do believe it is already feeling better, thank you. To be honest, I think you should have a little conversation with Carl about your salve and such other things. You two could share ideas and recipes.”

“Aye, Young Carl, I would be delighted to learn from and teach you anything I know, if you’d be up for it?”

Carl blinks a moment, surprised at the turn of conversation. He dips his head in a nod and swallows his food before speaking. “It would be an honor, your grace.”

Distracted, he spins his empty fork through his fingers. “I did wonder, though, why you didn’t use fish skin for Negan’s wound rather than normal bandages.”

“Well,” Ezekiel looks a bit taken back though he’s still smiling and doesn’t seem offended. “To tell the truth, I didn’t think he’d immediately go get near water quite yet.” He laughs as Negan makes a noise around his bite of food. “But also, I was fresh out! Though not to worry. It seems I’ve gotten a new batch in.” He nods his head to the table covered in its fishy meal. “Tell me, lad, how is it you have come to the knowledge of things like fish skin bandages and mint oils?”

“And soap,” Dwight pipes up, finally looking a bit more awake. “He makes soap.”

“Marvelous! Do tell, lad.” Ezekiel’s full attention is on Carl, so eager to listen to every word he has to say.

Carl shrugs, simple as anything. “I got shot.” He takes up his spoon pulling the bowl of soup closer to him. “Rather than a normal doctor I was taken care of by a farmer and his wife. They employed many of the practices they used on their wounded animals to treat me, and while I was in their household I learned some of Mrs. Greene’s trade of soap making.” He spoons up some of the broth and seaweed, speaking before he pops it into his mouth. “The rest I figured out myself.”

“No classical training? No book learning?” Ezekiel asks, marveled even more by how much ingenuity Carl seems to have. Also, by how much he has left to learn, how much he could teach Carl. Oh, yes. He does hope Carl will spend a day with him in his laboratory.

Carl flinches slightly, well hoping it goes unnoticed and drinks more of his soup. “No, nothing so grandiose as that. Just what one would need to know to survive.”

“Fantastic,” Ezekiel says with a nod. “Just fantastic. Well, Young Carl, you just say the word, pick a day, and I would be glad to have you as my pupil and my teacher!” He raises his glass to Carl before taking a hearty drink.

“Oh, I doubt there’s much I can teach you,” Carl says good naturedly, “but I appreciate the learning opportunity, nonetheless.”

He doesn’t terribly want to push Ezekiel off another day, but he wants to get everything done on The Lucille early enough that he isn’t rushing with his ingredients and his storage system when they leave. “Would you be free the day after tomorrow, your grace?”

“That sounds perfect! Gives me a day to gather up some materials for you, take down some notes, and clean up my workshop.” He grins as he leans in conspiratorially. “I don’t let anyone in there to clean, so unfortunately for me, I have to deal with my own messes.” He laughs and it echoes about the walls.

Carl wrinkles his nose, nodding his stark agreement. “I wouldn’t want anyone messing about with my tools either.”

“We’ll make sure the crew knows not to bother your things once you’re all set up on board,” Dwight says, looking at Negan who gives a nod. “Give you the keys to the cells. You can use them to lock things up if you want.”

“Ah, your brig room, correct?” Ezekiel says, still looking perturbed at the thought of Carl sleeping there.

Carl nods. “Private, easily defended, and if these two pick up anymore stowaways I can keep an eye.”

He casts a look towards Negan. “You got lucky with me, but I’m highly questioning your common sense.”

Negan snorts and laughs around a bite of rice. “Listen, kid. I’ll be honest. I only threw you in the brig cause you were pretty, and also cause you talked to me before sinking that pretty knife into me,” he says, pointing his spoon at Carl and letting his eyes trace over Carl’s face in the lantern light. “Anyone else who’d try that shit would have been overboard in a second. Has been actually. I’ve sent many a men to a briney grave.”

Carl rolls his eyes, turning his gaze back to the king and gesturing widely at the pirates across from them. “See what I mean? A pretty face and he loses all common sense. Thank the gods for Dwight.”

Negan looks to Dwight and bats his eyes, reaching out to run the backs of his fingers down Dwight’s scarred face. Dwight goes pink and leans into the touch. “Yes, thank the gods for Dwight.”

His words are mostly taken over by Ezekiel laughing loudly at the same moment, squeezing Carl’s shoulder jovially. “Aye, he’s always been like that. Better get used to it now, lad. Though, I think you’re quickly working your way up the ranks, considering they brought you here. You vying for the open quartermaster position I hear they have?”

“One would assume that they would hire someone who commands more respect,” Carl comments almost lightly. “Or perhaps someone who can read.” He tilts his mouth in a half smile, and shrugs. “I’m just terribly glad I helped Cook make that shopping list.”

Ezekiel blinks at the reading comment, but doesn’t get a question out as Negan waves his hand through the air. “You wanna go out there and try and recruit someone? It’s impossible! Every port is the same washed up dirty pirates who don’t know their dick from their hand and are only good for drinking and scrubbing the deck.” He huffs, jamming a piece of bread into his mouth.

Carl quirks a brow. “Clearly you aren’t looking in the right places. I met a woman just today who could read a map like breathing and didn’t need a compass to tell her where north is.” He frowns at his clean plate, finding himself still impossibly peckish, and pulls some of the crab meat over onto it. “Of course I’m sure you, like every other sailor I’ve ever met, would say she doesn’t belong aboard a ship.”

“There’s where you’re mixing up good ol’ sailors and pirates again,” Negan says, sudden interest sparked in his eyes. “Some of the best pirates are women, lad. And if this one is as good as you say she is, I’d love to meet her and offer her a job. Provided you could pick her out of the crowd? Please tell me you remember what she looks like and fucking pray she hasn’t already left port.”

Carl jerks in surprise. Then frowns at Negan. “Of course I remember what she looks like, I talked to her for a terribly long time outside the glassmaker’s.” He nods to himself, picturing the woman. “Her name is Arat, a terribly odd name, but I certainly wouldn’t tell her that.”

Negan looks to Dwight with a grin and raised eyebrows. “Think I may be going out tomorrow.”

“Fine by me. Do try and be nice. We want her to join the crew, not report you for indecency.”

Negan scoffs, pushing Dwight gently before looking back to Carl. “Before tomorrow give me a description of her so I can track her down. If you happen to see her while you’re fixing up your glasswork, have her go to the tavern on the corner, the one with the rat on the sign. Savvy?”

“Light skinned black woman, lovely ringlets with sun bleached tips, wearing a navy blue bandana,” Carl tells him. “Haven’t a clue if she has other clothes but she was wearing a black shirt, grey trousers, and a light brown belt. Had four flint locks.”

He tries to recall anything else as he eats more of the crab but eventually shakes his head. “That’s all I’ve got. I think she’s about Dwight’s height or a little shorter, definitely taller than me.”

Negan pats about his body, looking for something. “Dwight, write that down. Write that down.” He makes a noise of success as he pulls his notebook from his pocket and then makes a grabby hand at the pencil Dwight pulls from his.

“Well, she sounds like a solution,” Ezekiel comments with a nudge to Carl. “Good job, lad. If she doesn’t want to join your crew, send her up to me, eh?”

“Probably not to their quartermaster problem,” Carl comments with a shrug. “Doesn’t seem her cup of tea really, but a sea artist if I’ve ever seen one.”

And he hadn’t seen any sort of navigator other than Dwight or Negan aboard the Lucille. He had oft wondered if he killed their sea artist and they just hadn’t told him.

“Well, good to have competent crew no matter,” Ezekiel says with a shrug. “I’m sure you will help them in many ways, Master Carl.” He winks and takes a sip of his wine.

Carl flushes. He is sure it’s more the title, more the idea that he’s doing something helpful for Dwight and Negan, but Ezekiel is an attractive man and Carl is quite weak to compliments.

“I’ll do my best,” is what he ends up saying in the end.

“I’m sure you will.” Ezekiel smiles and digs back into his meal.

Full of good food and good conversation, they head back to the guest wing. The sun has been set for a while now, and even Dwight seems tired despite his earlier nap.

“You coming with me, or you want another night to yourself?” Negan asks Dwight quietly when they reach the doors, squeezing his hand.

“I’d like one more to myself if you don’t mind terribly.”

“You know I don’t.” Negan drops a soft kiss to Dwight’s cheek and then pats his ass as he turns to head to his room for the night. Dwight flicks him off, but it’s with a smile. “Good night, love.”

Catching Carl’s eye, Negan smiles, shifting his weight on his feet. “Would you like to join me?”

The horrible thing is that Carl wants to accept the invitation. It’s best he doesn’t though, best he remembers to keep his distance no matter how earnest this seems. They say they want to keep him but that doesn’t necessarily mean they want to keep him.

“Haven’t you learned your lesson by now?” Carl tuts lightly as he begins to move towards his own door. He grasps the handle and stops, looking over at the man.

He looks tired and melancholy in the lowlight, rejected and alone as he stands by his door and watches Carl go.

“I guess I haven’t,” he says quietly, looking away.

“Sleep tight, Negan.” Carl says it likely too nicely for how he usually addresses the man. Then, he steps into his little guest room.

“Good night, Carl,” floats through the air, but whether it reaches Carl’s ears or not, Negan doesn’t know. He sighs and goes into his own room, ready to just be asleep.

Carl sags against the door when he makes it into the room. Today has been a roller coaster and he knows he needs the time alone.

Part of him is over the moon to stay on The Lucille with Dwight and Negan, part of him wishes that he really could act as their quartermaster and be so important. The other part of him is terrified, he was supposed to be dead or writing marriage proposals to well-off women with his mother’s nails in his shoulders by now. And yet he is here, and he is about to commit to a life of piracy.

He spies his clothes folded neatly on the dresser when he walks over to the bed. Making a mental note to take them with him to the ship in the morning, Carl kicks off his boots and drops into the bed heavily.

What a day.

Chapter 10

Summary:

The group splits to do their own things, and future plans are made.

Notes:

R: This is a sort of transitional chapter but I find it quite nice to see what they all get up to~

 

 

After breakfast and checking in on Dwight, Negan heads into town to find this mysterious Arat. He has Carl’s description in his head, and in his journal, as he goes first towards the glass maker. It’s where Carl saw her yesterday, so it’s the best lead he has.

It takes him a few hours of searching around until finally he spots the only person who can possibly match the description Carl had given. She is in an intense round of the knife game in a tavern when he spots her, and based on the amount of blood on her opponent’s side of the table, she’s winning.

He has to play a round himself in order to talk to her, but he leaves the tavern with a new crew mate and only a few cuts on his fingers.

~

Carl pulls on his vest after breakfast and piles his other clothes in his arm, slipping a few extra garments from the drawers of the dresser thinking the king must not mind. He takes them all back to The Lucille as the sun really begins to make morning, the streets already starting to crowd around him.

Cleaning out the brig and both cells is messy work but he takes to it well, throwing out the mouldy hay and mopping up the floor before he sets up the storage system in the shelves.

Ingredients gathering through the market and the local fauna is practically the only thing that makes him eat in his determination to finish everything in one day. By the time he’s back on the ship and has packed away his ingredients, Carl collapses into his hammock figuring he can make it to the castle again later.

~

Dwight and Negan head to dinner that night without Carl. Not without waiting for him of course, but once the sun starts to set and he’s not there, they figure it’s okay to start without him.

Ezekiel’s questions his absence, of course, but they all hope he’s just chosen to sleep on the ship. A sleight tremor of worry works its way through the trio of pirates, but they push it away and enjoy the food as always.

Negan tells of his recruitment of Arat, showing off the cuts on his fingers. Dwight tells of a book he finished, and how he would have written the ending. Ezekiel tells of cleaning his workshop for Carl’s visit tomorrow, excitement radiating off of him.

They go to bed that night, Dwight in Negan’s, with whispers of plans for the next day on their lips, and just the hint of worry for Carl, hoping that he too has found a warm bed.

~

Carl gets to the fort the next day with apologies on his lips for missing dinner. He tells Dwight and Negan all of the ingredients he picked up almost excitedly, the most animated he’s ever been.

He seldom gets a moment to eat breakfast between his retelling of everything he’s done to the brig, ship keys jangling at his hip, before Ezekiel ferrets him away to the lab.

He feels as if he talks so much that day he might lose his voice. And though he won’t admit it, he’s terribly shocked at the amount of things he says being written down by the king. He hopes that the man isn’t just humoring him.

Ezekiel does send Carl off with a stack of his own notes (thankfully written in the king’s neat print), a book he claims has the answer to every ailment (complete with many illustrations), and a whole box of tools and ingredients Carl didn’t find in town.

~

Negan and Dwight decide on a nice day out exploring the gardens at the back of the castle. They talk about how adorable Carl was in the morning, and how glad they both are that he’ll get to be practicing something that is obviously a big passion of his. They know it was a rocky start, but they truly think Carl is going to flourish aboard the ship.

They get a bit lost in the maze of flowers and trees, and a little distracted when they realize there’s no one around to see them get up to things. Emerging at the castle again in the evening, they’re a little ruffled and a little pink in the cheeks, but nothing worse for wear.

Dinner that evening is a selection of meats, thinly cut and smoked, with multiple side dishes made to be eaten together with the meats. There’s also a soup base that Ezekiel shows Carl is customizable to whatever toppings you want to place in.

Carl finds himself talking at dinner just as much as he has all day, murmuring about the tinted glass Ezekiel had given him to overlay books and papers to make reading a bit easier and talking about leeches for probably far too long to be proper. He knows that once his head hits the pillow he will most definitely be out like a light, throat sore by morn, but he can’t help it.

The soup is delicious, as everything at the castle has been so far, and he bemoans that aboard the ship they won’t have any soups because it’s such a waste of clean water. It sends him on a mumbled tangent about rain catchers and water filtering before he realizes and shakes his head, asking how Dwight and Negan’s day was.

Carl finds himself both comforted and disappointed that he wasn’t jokingly invited to bed with the pirates again, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Like predicted, he practically falls asleep before laying in his guest bed.

~

In the morning, Negan and Dwight take breakfast in Dwight’s room. The window is bigger and color scheme lighter than the room Negan is in, so it makes for a better atmosphere. They leave the door open, a silent invitation for when Carl decides to walk by. Their plans are loose once again today, though there is a bit of sadness as they think about coming to the end of their week at The Kingdom.

Carl stumbles in for once, not quite fully awake. Even he can feel the atmosphere of bittersweetness in the air. He curls around his bowl of cheesy eggs with sausage so it doesn’t spill as he clambers up into Dwight’s window.

“Morning,” he mumbles to the two pirates raspily.

“Good morning,” Negan says, soft amusement in his tone as he watches Carl.

“Morning, Carl,” Dwight says. “How did you sleep? You had quite a day yesterday, yeah?” He smiles around a bite of oatmeal.

“As good as I always do,” Carl answers before digging into his breakfast. He’s leaning pretty heavily against the window, leaching the warmth of sunlight from the glass pane. “You both?” he asks after a moment, returning the sentiment.

“Good,” Negan says, looking like he wants to say something else but holding his tongue. The usual flirty gleam in his eye dulled down.

“Do you have plans for today, lad? We’ve only tomorrow and then the next we’ll pack up and ship off,” Dwight says with a soft, sad sigh.

“No plans. Finished all I had to do in the brig,” Carl confirms before he downs the rest of his food. He eyes the two men for a minute before commenting lightly. “For two sea loving pirates you both seem incredibly sad about going back to sea.”

“It’s this port,” Dwight explains. “We are not as attached to others as we are to this one. Though, even here, had we stayed another week, Negan would be itching for the sea.”

“She is my mistress,” Negan says with a hand over his heart. “I cannot leave her for too long.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re dramatic?” Carl questions rhetorically. He hangs his legs over the lip of the window and hops down.

“Only everyday since I was born.”

“Okay come on, let’s go, show me something I haven’t seen or whatever have you,” Carl sighs, waving them off the bed. They might as well make this day count instead of sitting around pouting.

Dwight hums and thinks as he starts getting dressed, tugging off his sleep shirt for a new day one. “What about taking him to a show, Negan? He’s surely never seen one of those animal plays.”

“Animal play,” Carl mumbles to himself. “Like a children’s theater?”

“The one with the masks where they’re on the stage and they blend in to the back?” Negan makes some wild hand motions, trying to show what he’s talking about.

Dwight chuckles and nods. “Yeah, that kind. What else?”

“I mean…” Negan’s smirk quirks up on the edge. “There’s the other type of play in the dark with the masks.”

“We’re not taking him to a burlesque show, you heathen.”

“I’ve actually been to a burlesque,” Carl comments with a shrug.

He’d quite liked it even if he didn’t react to it the way Shane had hoped when he took him to the gentlemen's club. It was well put together, and had a lot of energy, and while he doesn’t like women in the romantic sense, he is perfectly aware that they are very nice to look at.

“I like the costumes,” he tacks on with a little nod.

“He likes the costumes!” Negan says with a laugh, pulling his boots on before going to Carl and wrapping an arm around his shoulders to squeeze him with a one-armed hug. “You’re great, kid. I’ll take you to a burlesque show later when Dwight’s getting his beauty sleep.”

Carl doesn’t even attempt to weasel out of the man’s grasp, only tilts his head to look past him at Dwight. “You don’t like burlesque, Master Dwight?”

“Just not my thing,” Dwight says with a shake of his head, pulling his belt on and buckling it. “Like, I get it, but…” He shrugs and looks towards the two. “Doesn’t do a lot for me. I just get bored whenever we go.”

Negan straightens up, frowning at Dwight. “You never told me that. I thought you still had a bit of fun?”

“I have more fun watching you at the show than watching the show.” Dwight laughs and comes over to pat Negan’s cheek. “But, don’t worry about it. It’s not that big a deal.”

Negan just huffs and gives Carl a look that says ‘can you believe this guy’ with a pointed head nod towards Dwight.

Carl gives the facial equivalent of a shrug, head angling slightly and mouth pushing to one side. “I mean I get it. If the outfits weren’t pretty and the music wasn’t so fun I don’t think I’d care for it much either.”

He looks away from the two pirates, trying to remember the show he’d been to. All of the men had been loud and lecherous towards the performers, he’d felt it quite rude. But the way they sparkled, that’s where the real magic was. “I wonder if they make the clothes themselves.”

“Maybe.” Dwight shrugs.

“If we go to one tonight, you could ask of the performers,” Negan says, dropping his arm from Carl’s shoulders to his waist. “I don’t think they’d mind talking to you since you’re more polite company than the usual fare.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that,” Carl shakes his head. “I’m sure they would be awfully tired and craving privacy after something so energy leaching.”

“And besides,” he says, looking between the two pirates, “I’d hate to go and do something without Master Dwight on our last night here. Seems terribly rude.”

Dwight smiles and reaches out to tuck a strand of Carl’s hair behind his ear. “I wouldn’t mind, but… Thank you for thinking of me,” he says, letting his fingers cascade down to the ends of Carl’s hair.

Carl’s breathing hitches, eyes tracing Dwight’s face before Negan’s voice breaks him out of his trance.

“We’ll plan it for the next port, eh?” Negan says, watching Dwight’s fingers with a hunger. “Set Dwight up with a good book and a bottle of wine, and then have ourselves a night out?” He gives Carl a hopeful look, even easing his hold on him so as not to feel like he’s pressuring him, physically or mentally.

“Sounds like a plan, if no one feels left out,” Carl says with a nod. He straightens a little under Negan’s arm, averting his gaze. “Who knows maybe it will be a chance to dress up.”

“That’s the spirit!” Negan grins and shakes Carl gently, leaning in like he might press a kiss to Carl’s head but diverts at the last second. He pulls away and starts heading towards the door. “In the meantime, let’s go see something family friendly. We’ll probably make it for an afternoon showing and then can get some lunch afterwords!”

“Sounds good to me,” Dwight says, taking Carl’s sleeve and following Negan.

Carl is thankful for the hand on his sleeve pulling him stumbling forward. His brain is having trouble sifting through all the touches he’s been given this morning. Dwight’s hand in his hair, Negan’s arm over his shoulder, and that… that- what was that?!

He drops his bowl softly on the tray outside the room on their way out. “Right, yes, sounds great.”

Chapter 11

Summary:

The boys see a play and have some delicious food.

Notes:

R: Ahh this is one of my favorite chapters! I had a blast designing the play (which I was making up as we went and somehow it circled around perfectly haha) I hope everyone enjoys!

 

The theatre isn’t hard to miss once they turn the correct corner and see it at the end of the road. It’s a fairly large building with bushes lining the sides and banners up in red and gold. There’s already a small crowd mingling about outside, waiting for the current show to end so the next can start.

Negan leads them to the ticket booth set outside and being manned by a girl in a raccoon mask. Next to her is a booth selling animal masks of all species being run by a man wearing an eagle.

“Do you want a mask?” Dwight asks Carl as Negan flirts the price of three tickets down, pointing towards the booth. “They’re pretty neat.”

Carl steps over to the bench full of masks. There’s a few of each but not many, clearly they’re daringly made.

The lacquered eyes of a bird mask stare up at him, black and white beak jutting out handsomely. A magpie.

Carl looks at the man in the eagle mask. “How much?”

“Ah, ah! One has caught your eye, yes? Something calling out to you? To your soul?” The man grins, his mouth the only thing visible beneath his beak. “You may trade an item, any item, trinket, what have you, or pay what you think it’s worth.”

An interesting business practice but Carl will bite. He lifts the magpie mask, tracing a finger along the seam of the beak. Someone clearly put a lot of work into the crafting of this, the fine details of the feathers. Even the leather buckle strap is of good quality. Holding the mask up to his face he peers out of the eyes, the glass is tinted, that much is sure and the roundness makes his vision distort slightly but not an anyway he wouldn’t be used to after a few minutes.

Carl pulls a piece of eight from the hem of his vest and holds it out to the man. An entire piece, unquartered, had been worth a lot even to his family, and he’s giving a second one up in as many days.

“The craftsmanship is spectacular, please tell your artisan I said so.”

“Ah, I will! Thank you, little magpie! It’s very much appreciated. Enjoy the show!” The man pockets the coin and waves Carl goodbye, turning then to the next customer.

Dwight and Negan smile at Carl as he comes back over, eyeing his new mask.

“Ooo, what’dya get? A crow?” Negan asks, their tickets in his hand.

“Magpie,” Carl corrects. He holds the mask in front of his face for a moment before peering over the top of it.

“You smile now but imagine this thing coming at you in the dead of night with a sword in hand,” he comments, tracing along some of the feather detailing fondly. Yes, he thinks it would be quite frightening to someone caught unawares.

“All this boy thinks of is murder,” Negan stage whispers to Dwight who just laughs.

“I think it looks very daring. It fits you well, Carl. Good choice.”

“How much do those run? Should we get some too? What animal do you think I would be?” Negan smirks and strikes a pose, trying to convey something for them to base an animal off of.

“Rabbit,” Dwight says almost immediately.

“Rabbit,” Carl intones at practically the same time, covering his mouth so that he won’t laugh.

“Horny little buggers.”

Negan balks at the both of them, ready to be indignant about their suggestion until the idea really sinks in and he ends up nodding with a tentative agreement.

Carl flicks his gaze to Dwight. “There’s a border collie mask over there as well.” He’d been highly impressed with the carved fur, and the animal definitely fits Dwight.

“Oh?” Dwight hums, pinking at the ears at the lovely suggestion of his character.

Stroking his fingers down the beak again, Carl finally answers the initial question. “He told me to trade what I thought it was worth.”

“That’s an interesting business practice,” Negan says. “Wonder if they make any money. These must take forever to carve.” He holds his hands out to Carl, asking to see the mask.

“Well they certainly made money off of me,” Carl admits with a shrug, holding out the mask. The black and white beak angled to the sky.

He looks back at Dwight when Negan takes the mask. “Loyal, intelligent, pretty, not to mention having to herd this one,” he hooks a thumb at the captain.

Dwight laughs softly, waving Carl off with a smile. He tucks some of his blond hair behind his ear and clears his throat. “Yes, well. If you think so, then I believe it.”

“I should hope so,” Carl hums eyeing a few other passing patrons, “after all I’m far less prone to fibs and frivolous flirtation.”

“I take offense to that,” Negan says, handing back the mask. “Dwight likes my frivolous flirtation. Right?”

“Whatever makes you happy, dear.” Dwight pats Negan’s cheek.

He may be about to say something else, but at that moment a crowd of people exit out of the side of the building and the front doors open to allow the group the trio are in entrance. Negan wiggles in excitement, previous transgressions forgotten.

“He’s pretty excited about this,” Carl murmurs to Dwight, dropping his hands to buckle his new mask to the hip opposite of his weapons. It hangs there perfectly as if it were meant to be there.

“Anything I should know about this production?” he questions.

“I wouldn’t want to spoil anything,” Dwight says with a finger to his lips as they begin to file into the building. “But, it looks like it’s the rabbit and the wolf story. They change it up every so often.” He points to a woodcut print hanging up by the door of a rabbit and wolf interlocked in a circle, flowers around the edges. “I think I remember liking this one.”

Negan hands their tickets to an usher in a weasel mask as they enter, waving them towards seats near the middle of the stage.

“Well that boasts good things,” Carl says, taking Dwight’s endorsement with a nod.

Carl lets the men seat him where they please, settling between the excitable Captain and the much more calm first mate with slight ease. He eyes the stage set up with interest. He’s seen many a ballet but few theater shows in comparison.

The rest of the seats fill in with an array of people, some with masks tilted up on their heads and some with hand snacks. The front doors close as everyone gets settled, and the lanterns turn down except for the ones on stage. The crowd settles as a man in a tiger mask and a lady in a crow mask walk on stage. They’re both in all black except for their masks and a few accessories. The tiger has orange stripes down his back and a tail hanging between his legs, and the crow has feathers layered along her arms to look like wings.

“Welcome all! We are very happy to see you here today!” the tiger says, voice radiating out from the stage. The crow waves at everyone with two hands and a big smile. “Our show today is put on for your entertainment. We aim to tug at your heart strings-” The crow mimes the words, hands pulling at her heart. “-make you laugh-” She grabs her stomach, tossing her head back and noiselessly laughs. “-make you cry.” She balls her hands by her eyes, silently sobbing. “To help us do this, please refrain from talking during the performance.” The crow covers her mouth with both hands, looking left and right over the crowd. “Thank you and enjoy the show!” They both bow before running off stage.

The lights lower until only a single one in the middle remains lit.

Carl leans back in his seat, putting his lips together and keeping track of both the room and the stage. He honestly doesn’t think that this will be anymore his thing than the ballets were, but Negan at least seems excited about it and Dwight has shown some interest in the story.

He just has to make sure his attention doesn’t drift, or worse he falls asleep.

“There was once a rabbit, with fur as white as fresh snow.”

The curtain on stage opens to reveal a woman in a rabbit mask, dressed in white, tight fitting clothes that cover every inch of her from neck downward. She is curled up on the stage floor, the background behind her moving to reveal a full moon. She awakens, sitting up and stretching as the narration continues.

“She lived amongst a rabbit village…”

The story goes on to explain how though the rabbit is beautiful, she is shunned by much of the village for it. The other rabbits are jealous, and through the jealousy are cruel. Refusing to sell her food, tugging on her ears, even trying to pull her fur from her body.

“The white rabbit ran to the forest to cry and nurse her wounds.”

Carl honestly, doesn’t really understand why the rabbit would stay when she is treated so poorly. If she were truly an intelligent creature she would leave the silly village and grow her own food in the forest. He turns to say as much to Negan but is drawn short, remembering to be courteous to the other viewers.

He looks back to the stage, but his eyes catch on something. There’s a woman among the audience, wearing a fox mask. She’s dressed similarly enough to the workers that she normally wouldn’t be questioned, but Carl notices the sword at her waist which is something none of the other workers have had. It’s a broadsword with a tapered handle, much easier to move around in a crowd than a sword like Carl’s.

He watches her make her way through, stealing a ladies necklace as the rabbit weeps on stage. She steals a hairpin from a large updo as well and Carl can’t help but admire the actions. She’s picked a perfect hunting ground, here in the dark when people are dressed up and distracted.

Carl leans towards Negan again, setting a hand on his shoulder and leaning up to press his lips right against Negan’s ear. He keeps his voice almost completely silent. “Vixen mask, to our right, watch her.”

“Hm?” Negan shivers from the close contact but lets his eyes trail over to the right where Carl is looking. He notes the fox ears bobbing along through the crowd, the soft glint of jewelry moving in the darkness.

He’s about to ask Carl why he wants him to look at a thief, when there’s a loud roar from the stage, deep drums pounding and shaking the chairs. The wolf has arrived.

“‘Why don’t you run,’ the wolf asks. ‘Why do you not show fear in the face of death?’

“‘Death does not scare me. Death would be a comfort,’ says the rabbit, staring at the sharp fangs of the wolf. ‘I have no family. No friends. The world is hard. I would not miss it.’

“The wolf, for the first time in his life, feels something besides hunger at the sight of the rabbit.”

Carl’s gaze flicks to the side, eyeing the stage with renewed interest. He readies himself to turn back to it once he’s made his point.

“You can always trust thieves' hands to steal,” he whispers, “I would just prefer to have the hands on my side, wouldn’t you?”

Negan hums softly, his eyes on the fox again.

Carl lowers himself back into his seat, keeping part of his attention on the fox in the crowd but most once again on the stage where the two actors stand nearly nose to nose.

“Perhaps it was hunger in a different sense.”

The wolf and rabbit kiss to a crescendo in the music, before running off stage while the background changes once more. They’re back in the village with multiple brown rabbits on the stage who all look shocked and terrified as the white rabbit brings the wolf into town.

“The other rabbits avoided the white rabbit, who now had the protection of the wolf. It seemed better than the torture she had dealt with before, and yet she still found herself sad and longing for something.

“‘I can kill them for you,’ the wolf offered out of love. ‘Rid you of their stares, their jealousy, their anger. Say the word and they will die.’

“But the rabbit did not wish for them to die, and when the villagers realized that the wolf was no threat to them, they turned their abuse on him.”

A loud snap from a clapboard echoes out each time a brown rabbit on stage attacks the wolf, the lanterns flashing in time, and red streamers being strewn about to indicate blood. When the white rabbit finds her lover barely alive, she falls to her knees and holds him close.

He reaches up and leaves a bloody red handprint on her chest.

“The white rabbit held mercy no longer.”

Carl is much more intrigued by the play now. It clearly has the dramatic flair that Negan must love. However, Carl appreciates that it’s a story with multiple moving parts that must be the draw for Dwight.

What he had originally thought was just another retelling of a children’s story has gone quite dark. He appreciates that too.

The lights go red as the white rabbit begins slaughtering every other rabbit in the village, their blood staining her coat. The music is sharp like the blades she uses, red streamers flying, drums pounding.

When she’s finally slain the last brown rabbit, who twirls off the stage with one last dramatic spool of red ribbon, she falls to her knees again.

The lights go white, but the rabbit is still all red. A gasp goes through the audience.

The wolf comes on stage, bandaged but alive, and falls down beside the rabbit.

“‘Do you weep for your brethren?’”

“‘No.’”

“‘Do you weep for your actions?’”

“‘No.’”

“‘Do you weep for your soul?’”

“‘No.’”

“‘Then why do you weep, my love?’”

“‘I weep for my fur. My beautiful white fur, now stained as red as the harvest moon. Surely, you will no longer love me without it. I weep for losing you.’”

Negan sniffs and rubs at his eyes, trying to cover it with a cough.

“‘My dear rabbit, I never loved you for your fur. I love you for your fearlessness, for your fury, for your loyalty, and your laugh. You look as beautiful in red as you did in white, but it is not why I love you.’”

Carl bites back an amused grin and reaches out, giving the captain’s upper arm a squeeze. He’s glad he came. All around this is a bucket of wins. A good story, Negan getting all adorable and emotional, and hell even a possible new crewmate.

The play comes to an end with the rabbit and wolf running away together under the light of the full moon. The curtain closes and the applause roars out, Negan even standing to give his. The curtain opens again as the house lights go up, the cast all lined up to bow and wave at the audience.

“Pretty good, huh?” Dwight asks Carl as he claps.

Carl nods, clapping loud and even. “It surprised me. I’ll admit, usually these kinds of things bore me.”

He turns and smiles up at Dwight, giving his wrist a squeeze right over the cravat still wrapped there. “Come on. Negan has a fox to talk to.”

“Huh?”

The side doors open to let the crowd out, and even though they’re stuck in the middle, Negan somehow gets past a few people and out the doors ahead of Carl and Dwight. He’s looking left and right when they find him, eyes scanning the crowd for fox ears.

Carl whistles low and quick, an attention grabber that’s nothing like the whistle Negan taught him, as he tugs Dwight through the crowd behind him. Once he has Negan’s attention, he points to a woman in the crowd, head bent with light blond hair and a tattoo on her neck.

Giving a nod, Negan makes his way to the woman. He sidles up next to her, matching her steps. It’s interesting, he thinks, how many women may end up on his boat, and not because he’s trying to get them into his bed.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asks, leaning towards the woman so it’s obvious he’s talking to her.

Carl pulls to the side of the bustling crowd, eyeing the interaction. Close enough to hear but not close enough to make the woman feel trapped.

“Let’s hope this recruitment doesn’t end with him cutting his fingers up again, hm?” Carl mumbles out of the side of his mouth to Dwight.

“Is that what’s happening?” Dwight asks, staying just as quiet as he watches Negan try to chat up a woman who looks like she wants nothing to do with him.

“Clever hands,” Carl comments, lifting one of his own hands to flip a ring through his fingers in front of Dwight. It’s the noble lady’s ring that Negan was wearing on his pinkie. “We can always use those.”

Dwight’s eyebrows go up, a smirk on his face. “I knew you’d been gathering a collection, but from Negan too? Better watch yourself.” He chuckles, running a hand down Carl’s hair, thankful he was never much into jewelry.

“Oh, I’ll give it back,” Carl says, sliding the ring onto his forefinger where it will rest above one of the others he’s wearing. It’s the only one on his hand without a gem of some kind. “It’s not really my style.”

“Uh huh. Okay.”

A smack rings out from nearby, and they look up in time to see Negan rubbing his jaw and the fox looking pissed off but also amused. He leans in and whisper something into her ear that makes her think for a moment before nodding and shaking his hand.

With a hand to her back, Negan pushes her over to Dwight and Carl, happiness radiating off him. “Dwight, Carl, meet Laura! Laura, my first mate Dwight, and soon to be potion maker Carl.”

Carl’s brows fly upwards. “Potion maker?” He clicks his tongue indignantly. “I’m no witch.”

He turns from Negan to Laura, practically ignoring the captain. “I assure you, my lady, not all of us are like him … but he grows on you like a barnacle.”

Laura eyes him up and down curiously, takes in his weapons and the mask, the eclectic collection of rings on his hands. Likely, she sees him as somewhat a kindred spirit. “I’ll decide that for myself.”

A spark of amusement lights in Carl’s chest. She and Arat are going to be fine additions to the Lucille, he can feel it. “As you should, madam.”

“We’re happy to have you aboard,” Dwight says, giving Laura a little smile. “I assume Negan spelled out most details, but if you have questions once we’re on board, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“We look forward to sailing with you, lass. Thank you for giving us a chance,” Negan says with a dramatic little bow.

“I’ll be at the ship by morning,” Laura says with a self assured nod. She gives each of them a lingering searching look and then turns away, one ear of her fox mask peeking from the folds of her skirt.

Carl watches her go, finally realizing he’s still holding Dwight’s arm and releasing him. He crosses his arms over his chest. “If any of the crewmen ask Laura or Arat some shit like if they can sew, I’m stitching their mouths shut.”

“We’ll give them a talking to before we shove off,” Negan says with a laugh. “From what I’ve seen, those ladies can handle themselves, but I don’t want them to have to be on guard while on board.”

“Good, good,” Carl nods to himself. He turns his attention to the two men, smiling softly. “This was fun. Thank you for bringing me.”

“We’re glad you enjoyed it!” Dwight says as he reaches to pet Carl’s hair again, enamored by how soft it is.

“I liked the part when the rabbit’s fur turned red,” Negan says, starting to lead the group back to the road. “Production-wise I mean. She never left the stage, so how did they do that?”

“Lighting maybe? A practical effect with the costume?” Carl suggests, following along. “I imagine whatever it was is something easily replicated without much expense.”

“Sure, sure.” Negan nods, tapping his chin in thought for a moment before shrugging. “I’ll just chalk it up to the magic of theatre, eh? Anyway, I’m also glad you liked it. For a moment I thought you were gonna fall asleep.”

Carl shrugs. “It picked up. Initially it felt silly.” He had only really given it a fair chance because both pirates were so into it.

“I think all theater is a bit silly,” Dwight says. “But it has to be, right? They’ve gotta be over the top to be seen from the stage.”

“I suppose you’re right about that,” Carl acknowledges, sidestepping a lemur as it streaks down the road. “What’s the plan now? That seemed to take up a pretty good chunk of our day.”

“You hungry?” Negan asks, looking about at other shops as they walk. “We could grab some lunch. Maybe walk down by the water.”

“Have a picnic at the marina?” Dwight suggests, smiling softly.

“I could eat,” Carl says. Truth is, he could always eat. He doesn’t think there’s ever been a day when he hasn’t been hungry. Even coming from a family with a little money, someone always needs it more.

“There’s a bunch of food tents near the beach,” he recalls from when he was foraging for coconuts and aloe days before. “There’s this guy who makes these aloe and fruit drinks and I forgot to stop by the other day. Apparently they’re even cold because there’s a natural cold spot in the water where he’s set up near the tide.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting!” Negan lights up, though Dwight looks apprehensive.

“I just don’t know how I feel about drinking aloe,” he says with a shudder. The thought of the slimy goo in his throat has him almost gagging.

“Then you don’t have to get any, love, but I’d like to try it, along with something roasted.” A peacock walks by, and Negan eyes it hungrily. “Maybe some duck.”

“I’m sure there are just normal fruit juices,” Carl soothes, patting the man on the arm, “and if you’re curious you can try mine before you get some yourself.”

Dwight doesn’t look convinced, but he still gives a nod.

A deep hum escapes Carl at the idea of something spit roasted and cut up onto some bread. “Duck sounds good or lamb.”

“Oh, lamb! Haven’t had some good lamb in ages. You got good tastes, kid.” Negan sends Carl a wink, nudging him with his elbow.

“Better taste than you,” Carl huffs wrinkling his nose at the memory of the pickled eggs. His eyes shift over to Dwight for a moment. “In food at least.”

Dwight goes pink in the cheeks and slips Carl a soft look, while Negan chuckles and nudges him again.

The beach area is less crowded than the town, a nice reprieve from the hustle and bustle. It’s a nice day too, the wind coming from the sea bringing a cool breeze with it.

Carl points out a green tent that has darker green stripes on it, set up incredibly close to the tide. “That’s the drink tent I was talking about.”

Judging by the scent of meat and smoke on the air the spit roasters are farther up the beach. Negan’s been here though, he probably doesn’t need Carl pointing that out.

“Fantastic!” says Negan as he sniffs the air, practically licking his lips at the smell of food. “Oh, I can’t wait. This was a good suggestion. Good job, my dear lad.” He gives Carl’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.

Carl can’t help but throw a confused look over at Negan at the strange term of endearment. For some reason it just doesn’t fit, it doesn’t sound right. Too formal maybe?

“Wow, it’s practically in the water. That’s so interesting,” Dwight comments as they make their way onto the beach. He makes a face stepping into the sand. It’s the one thing about sailing and seafaring that he hates. Sand.

Carl adapts to walking on sand between one step and the next, trading his usual quick paced light steps for the slightly longer than average strides that you need to keep from sinking down. He glances at Dwight trying to distract the man from looking down at his feet. “I’m going to see if there’s any with pineapple I think.”

“Mm, pineapple is good,” Dwight says, looking over. “I’m also partial to anything red. Strawberry and the like. Though, mango is up there in my favorites. Might see if they have that.”

“Anything citrusy for me,” Carl admits, “tart but semi-sweet. I’m partial to lime over most others but I’d prefer something more flavorful with the aloe.”

“Lime is good,” Negan says, spinning on the sand to walk backwards so he can look at Carl and Dwight. “Better stock up on your citrus intake while you can too. No getting scurvy on the boat, alright?”

“Don’t be silly, I had Cook put dried greens on the list,” Carl says, eyeing a dip coming up in the sand and wondering if he should say anything or just let the captain stumble. “After we finish off any fruit we have that will help stave off scurvy until we can make port.”

As much as he would like to watch Negan stumble and fall on his ass Dwight would probably disapprove so he reaches out and grabs the pirate’s arm yanking him sideways. “Watch where you’re going.”

“Oh!” Stumbling slightly just from the tug, Negan rights himself, looking back at the dip Carl saved him from. He smiles and walks a little closer to Carl. “Thank you.”

“You know, Carl, I think Ezekiel had the right idea the other night,” says Dwight. “I think you are very capable of becoming our new quartermaster. Recruiting crew members, overseeing the food supply. All very important duties.”

“Pssh,” Carl waves him off. “I am not old enough to be taken seriously in the position, nor do I have any seniority on the ship.”

“Well, maybe not, but I still think you should be… an advisor, or some such,” Dwight says. “Until we find a new quartermaster, or you become old enough and well liked enough to become it yourself. Whichever comes first.”

Carl chooses to remain silent because while he doesn’t feel he deserves the position, he is irrationally annoyed at the idea of someone else getting the position. He steps up to the small line at the drinks tent and eyes the short list of fruit mixes that are thankfully written in large print. There, in fact, is a pineapple and aloe mix and he smiles slightly already decided.

When they get to the counter, Negan takes the lead and orders a plain aloe drink for himself and a mango for Dwight, looking at him to silently check that it was the correct choice. He pays and then steps back to let Carl order his.

“I’m so damn excited,” Negan says as he wiggles in his spot while they wait for their drinks.

“Why don’t you go run around while we wait? Burn off some energy?” Dwight says with a laugh, watching Negan with fond amusement.

Grinning, Negan leans in and bumps Dwight with his shoulder. “Shoulda worn me out better last night, Dwighty-boy.”

“How did I know you were going to say something like that,” Carl sighs. He has half a mind to call the man a horny toddler to his face.

“A pineapple and aloe, please, sir,” Carl requests, holding out an eighth to the man. The sliver of coin is taken from him and the man pulls a hollow coconut halve from a stack and ladles from one of the many watertight barrels half submerged in the sea. He holds it out and Carl takes it, thanking him before sipping the drink.

The drink washes over his tongue thick and delicious with a lovely prickle, and he hums happily before holding it out to Dwight. “Here try.”

“Hm…” Dwight looks at the drink apprehensively, not really sure if he trusts the consistency. He takes the coconut nonetheless and stares down into it.

“Please don’t throw up,” Negan says, stepping up with both his and Dwight’s finished drinks in his hands.

Dwight shoots him a look but then raises the drink to his mouth and takes a sip. He hands it back to Carl just as he swallows and feels a bit of aloe slide down his throat.

“Ugh… Nope. Nope. Don’t like it.” He shakes his head, making grabby hands for the mango drink in Negan’s.

Carl shrugs, figuring to each their own and begins to move away from the table. He doesn’t quite realize he’s speaking until he says, “You must be a spitter rather than a swallower.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and presses his hand against his mouth, shooting Dwight a wide eyed look. “I am so sorry. I don’t know where that came from, that was incredibly disrespectful.”

“It’s fine,” Dwight says over the sound of Negan laughing and choking on his drink at the same time. “I’m sure you know I’m used to it.”

“Holy shit, kid!” Negan’s still coughing as he comes up and smacks Carl proudly on the back. “I didn’t know you had it in ya! You’ve been holding back on me! God, that was fucking hilarious!”

Carl looks to the sky as if he’s going to find help there, fingers tight around his coconut cup. “Please, I didn’t mean to say it. It’s so not funny.”

“I beg to differ!” Negan snorts, turning away to cough once more before he finally gets all his drink out of his throat.

“Jesus, I think you’re gonna be the one to throw up. It wasn’t even that good of a joke,” Dwight says, rubbing Negan’s back.

“When it comes out of Carl’s mouth it is! Shit, kid. You gotta let your mouth work faster than your brain more often. I love it.”

“Oh, he’s never going to let this go,” Carl breathes regretfully to the sky. “I have to live with this forever now.”

“Damn right!” Negan cackles, grabbing Carl’s shoulders and leaning in to smack a kiss to his cheek before dancing away with a whoop.

Dwight laughs softly, sipping on his mango drink. He loops his arm with Carl and keeps up a leisurely pace as they follow Negan down the beach. “You’d think his drink was spiked with something, but he’s just like that.”

Carl doesn’t think his face is going to be anything but red for the foreseeable future. He sips his drink as they walk. “Are we sure he isn’t having a reaction to the aloe?”

He’s never seen an allergic reaction like this but Negan could surely manage it.

“Think he’s just been off the boat too long, honestly.”

Carl can’t even manage to look at the man next to him as they walk, too embarrassed. “For what it’s worth I really didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“I know, but it’s really alright. I was not slighted in the least. No harm, no foul.” Dwight takes a sip of his drink, glancing at Carl from the corner of his eye. “I do usually swallow, just so you know.”

Carl’s tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip and it's quickly followed by his teeth digging into the pink flesh. He was correct in his assumption that he wasn’t going to stop blushing anytime soon.

“I think you’re secretly just as bad as him,” he breathes into the rim of his coconut as he lifts it to sip again.

“Eh, he rubs off on you,” Dwight says with a shrug before hearing his own words and chuckling. “I mean, he does rub off… he can rub you off? Something like that. There’s a joke in there.”

“Dear lords,” Carl breathes, shaking his head. “I take back my apology you don’t deserve it after that.”

Dwight laughs, big and loud, his face lit up with his smile. He squeezes Carl’s arm in his and looks at him fondly. “You’re a good one, lad. I’m glad we get to spend more time with you.”

“Yes, well,” Carl says, skin prickling because of course Dwight’s voice always sounds unbearably warm when he calls him that, “I suppose it will take more than a few dirty jokes to scare me off.”

“Good.” Dwight smiles and looks up ahead of them. Negan has stopped and is standing near the edge of the wet sand, looking out to sea contemplatively. Dwight gently stops Carl, feeling the cool breeze blow as they stand back and study the Captain.

“You know, we only have tonight and tomorrow night left to enjoy the nice beds before it’s back to the ship for a while,” Dwight says quietly. “It would be a real treasure for us if you’d join us for at least one.” He looks at Carl and smiles. “Doesn’t have to be for anything but sleep. I just know it would mean a lot for the both of us if you were there too, but please, feel free to tell me no. I won’t be hurt.”

There’s a tug in Carl’s chest, something calls him to the idea - longingly - and something else pulls him away - scared. There are a thousand things that could go wrong if he accepts such a thing. He doesn’t point out that Negan does have a bed on board that’s more than comfortable, something in Dwight’s tone makes him think it won’t be taken well.

“He doesn’t seem like the just sleep type,” he says instead, eyeing the odd mix of longing and something else on the Captain’s face as he looks out to sea.

“I know, but he can be,” Dwight says with a sigh. “Negan’s a good man at heart. He knows the meaning of ‘no’ and ‘stop’ and won’t touch if it’s not welcome. He just has the problem that everything out of his mouth sounds like a joke, but not all of it is.”

Carl takes a deep breath and makes a choice he really hopes he won’t regret. “I’ll stay, to sleep.”

“But,” he says quickly, nodding towards Negan, “you can’t say anything to him until after dinner because we both know he can’t be normal about it.”

“My lips are sealed,” Dwight says, barely hiding his smile behind his drink. He gives Carl’s hair a pet before gently tugging on the ends. “Thank you. C’mon now. Let’s grab our captain and get some food.”

Carl nods vigorously. “I’m starving, and I think I smell that lamb I was talking about.”

“Alright.”

Once Dwight drags Negan away from the sea, they continue down the beach to the food stalls. Negan points out one selling slices of lamb on bread to Carl.

“That looks good, yeah?”

“It looks fantastic is what it looks,” Carl says, already trooping towards the food. He can smell the spices in the air and it’s absolutely mouth watering.

Negan follows Carl, intent on getting the same thing, while Dwight goes a few places down to purchase a plate of rice and sliced turkey covered in a gravy.

He finds a large log inset into the sand nearby and sits down to wait for the other two.

Carl leans forward and points at one of the lambs on spits. “Is that one spicier?”

“Yissir, yissir!” The man running the food stand nods. He gestures to the other one. “Less pepper rubbing zis one!”

“The spicier one for me, please sir,” Carl asks.

The man nods and looks to Negan. “An’ yousir?”

“Aye, the less spicy one for me, thanks,” Negan says, pointing to the one he wants. “I know my limits.”

“Ar’igh!” The cook says, lifting a large knife from a block and piling a large disk of bread each on two palm leaves. He moves first to Negan’s choice and hacks off several slices onto the bread before moving to Carl’s and doing the same. With their food in hand he hustles back over. “Tha’ll be one-four.”

Carl nods dipping his hand into the neck of his vest to try and get his fingers around two-eighths or a fourth to pay the man. He hadn’t cut very many of his coins.

“You need change?” Negan asks, watching Carl as he takes the food from the seller. “You wanna look in my purse there on my hip? Should have a bunch of fourths in there.” He wiggles his hip towards Carl, the change purse in question tied to him and tucked into his belts.

“You walk around like you want someone to steal from you,” Carl says, clicking his tongue as he removes two-eighths from his inner pocket and hands them over, ignoring the way the light catches on Negan’s ring still proudly sitting on his forefinger.

“Come on.” He takes up his food from Negan and tilts his head to Dwight. “Shouldn’t make him wait any longer.”

“They couldn’t get nothing out of there without me feeling it,” Negan says with a roll of his eyes, following Carl. “It’s tied shut and tied to me. Someone would lose a hand before I lost a coin.”

Dwight is half done with his food when the two arrive. He waves and then offers them spots on the log.

“Well, at least you have a better hold on your coins,” Carl comments, sitting down on Dwight’s left side. He balances his drink between his thighs and looks at this food, attempting to figure out how to eat it neatly without utensils.

Finally, he gives up and sort of folds the bread around the meat, glancing over at Dwight. “How is yours?”

“Delicious,” Dwight says, using his fingers to scoop up a bit of rice and gravy into his mouth. Negan sits down on his right side, wrapping up his meal in the palm leaf so he can hold it cleanly. He leaves one side open for biting into the bread and meat together with a pleased hum. “You get your lamb then?”

“Mmhmm,” Carl confirms. “What did you decide on?” He uses the chance to bite into his lamb wrap. A soft moan escapes him as flavor bursts across his tongue. The tingling burn from the spices spreads all across his pallet. He clearly made the right choice, and when he’s done he can soothe the heat with his aloe drink.

“Found some kinda turkey in a peanut sauce,” Dwight says, licking his fingers. “I prefer birds over red meat, usually.”

“I don’t really have a preference for type,” Carl says with a shrug, readying for another bite, “just flavor. I like something that tastes substantial.”

“And spicy as hell apparently,” Negan says, pointing at Carl. “I got the less spiced version, and I can’t even imagine eating that one.” He takes a drink of his aloe, sighing as it soothes his throat. It’s so good, but also so hot.

Carl glances down at the food in his hand. Sure it burns, and it’s definitely clearing up his sinuses, but he once spent three days chewing peppers for a salve to help a muscle his dad pulled before he had a mortar and pestle.

He shrugs. “It’s honestly really good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Dwight says with a chuckle, eating a piece of his turkey.

The sound of the ocean lapping at the shore is soft and relaxing as they sit and enjoy their food. A few palm trees near them blow in the breeze, their fronds providing a bit of shade from the hot sun. There’s a few other people walking about, eating food, or even trying to sell things.

One such lady walks up to the trio, showing off strings of painted wooden beads and shiny metal ones. Her English is broken at best, but it’s easy enough to understand she’s selling her wares. Negan and Dwight shake their heads no, so she turns her sights on Carl.

“You like? Yes?” She wiggles a string of golden beads in front of him and points from them to his jewelry.

Carl eyes the golden painted beads. They have a length to them, and could fit all the way around his waist. He likes the idea quite a lot. He digs into one of the stolen coin purses in his boot and from it pulls a mid-cut piece that’s more a third than a real fourth or half.

He holds it out to her, knowing it probably is too much for the simple string of beads, but he likes them and he’s spent very little money that he cannot replace. “I do like. Very pretty.”

The beads are placed into his hand at the same time that the coin is taken, the woman squirreling it away into her blouse. “Thank you! Thank you!” She gives a gap toothed smile and a little bow before moving on to peddle her wares.

“What are you gonna do with those?” Negan asks, setting his empty coconut onto his empty leaf in the sand.

Carl downs the rest of his drink, mouth still tingling, and sets his detritus on the ground. He feels along the line of beads until he finds the spot where one snaps inside another and digs his fingernail in slipping it out.

Standing, he loops the row of beads around his waist, snapping them back shut. Carl twists, looking the beads over where they rest a few inches above his overlapping belts, sitting comfortably beneath the one crossing his chest. They aren’t tight enough to hinder movement or break but they aren’t loose enough to fall down.

“Perfect fit,” he says happily.

“Oh…” Dwight and Negan’s eyes are both caught on the beads wrapping around Carl. Images of Carl in nothing but the beads flashing through Negan’s mind, making his mouth water.

Dwight reaches out and runs his fingers along the beads, thinking about tugging on them but deciding not to. “I thought you might have wanted to cut them off the string and make things from them,” he says. “But, this is nice too.”

Carl’s breathing pauses when Dwight’s fingers land on his new waist beads. His head is full of images of those fingers tangled in any and all of the hanging jewelry Carl wears, pulling him close by all his pretty things.

“I think this is exactly how these should be worn,” Carl says, pushing the machinations of his imagination to the side.

Negan hums in agreement. “I do too. Looks good on you, kid.” He wants to reach out so bad and feel the beads for himself, but he’s too far away, and he’s trying to be good about touching Carl right now.

Carl almost rolls his eyes and says of course it does, it’s pretty and shiny jewelry, it’s meant to look good. “She certainly knew who she was walking up to when she approached. It’s my color.”

The pirates don’t comment on how Carl is so covered in gold, the woman could see he was a potential customer from a mile away.

Carl looks around at the beach. “Did you two want to do anything else today? Or just relax until dinner?”

“Did you have any ideas?” Dwight asks, kicking his feet out in the sand. “We can do whatever you want.”

“I haven’t any ideas at all,” Carl decides. He feels almost as if he’s had a full day already, between the theater, the recruitment, and their lovely lunch. “If there isn’t anything we need to do to prepare for departure perhaps we can lounge in the library up in the fort? I know Ezekiel mentioned to me that the two of you usually spend time there when you visit.”

“He did, did he?” Negan stands and stretches, holding out his hand to help Dwight up. “That sounds good to me. Maybe get in a little nap before dinner.”

Dwight rolls his eyes, patting off his pants from any sand that clings to them. “I can show you some of my favorite books, Carl. Maybe help you find some on your interests. I can read them to you if you’d like. I read to Negan quite often.”

The captain smiles at Dwight, giving a nod, blush settling in on his face. “He’s got a good reading voice.”

Carl feels as if an elephant has come and sat on his chest. He cannot remember the last time someone read to him, or even the last someone offered. His mother had forbidden his father from helping him with his reading years ago now.

“I’d like that,” Carl admits. “I’d really like that.”

“Good.” Dwight smiles and brushes Carl’s cheek with his fingertips, Negan watching with restraint. “Let’s head on back then.”

Carl moves away a bit quicker than he means to, turning towards the fort and beginning to take lead so that the two men can’t see the way his whole face goes red.

Notes:

R: If anyone were so inclined to draw fanart, a nice picture of the three boys wearing animal masks would be kinda cool I’m just saying 👀

Chapter 12

Summary:

A nice time in the library leads to an exciting dinner.

Notes:

T: I’m so excited for this chapter! It has more than just the chapter banner imbedded in it this time, you all finally get to see the scene that I commissioned this art from! Please show the artist some love ^-^

 

Arriving at the library has Negan sighing as he flops onto one of the grand couches that line a reading area in the middle of the room. There are bookcases upon bookcases built into the walls, filled with a variety of texts. Study tables, reading chairs, and window seats are scattered about, each inviting in their own way. The big windows bring in a lot of natural light, but there are many lanterns strewn about to read by, as well as a large fireplace.

Dwight takes a seat next to Negan’s head, petting through his dark hair and earning a purr from the captain. “Pick out whatever you want me to read, lad.”

Carl eyes the shelves. There are signs on them lettered large and clear to show what is housed in each place. He feels a little embarrassed at how quickly he moves towards the poetry section. They are, after all, some of the easiest things for he himself to read which means he probably should pick something else but he’s grown to love them.

Picking a poetry book also means the reading will be quick and Dwight can pick something he likes more after. Carl selects a slim book with a blue cover and a stream detailed on it. It seems to be mostly nature themed poetry from what he can gather by squinting at a few pages.

Making his way back over to the two pirates, he holds the book out to Dwight. “How about this?”

Dwight takes the book and looks it over. “Oh, wonderful,” he says with a smile. “Wanna sit here, or shall we move to the window?” He pats the side of the couch to his right where Negan isn’t. “I know you like being in the natural light.”

Carl’s eyes flick to the lip of the window. It’s an absolutely perfect place for him to lay but there’s nowhere particularly comfortable for Dwight and Negan to sit. “Better not,” he mumbles, turning his eyes away from the window.

He sinks down to his knees next to Dwight, tilting sideways to rest on his thigh, and crosses his arms on the couch seat, pillowing his cheek on them. It leaves his weapons open to the room at large and gives him ample space to stretch out his legs if he so chooses.

Looking up at Dwight through his bangs and lashes, he tells the man, “Here’s good.”

“Oh…” Dwight has to take a moment to catch his breath that looking down at the sight of Carl on his knees has taken away. He reaches out to brush away the hair from Carl’s face. “There is very good.”

Negan looks over and lets out a soft noise. “Hi there,” he says quietly, shifting to rest his head on Dwight’s opposite thigh. He also reaches out to gently run his fingers through Carl’s hair, pulling back sooner than he’d really have liked. “What did you pick out for us to hear?”

Carl has maybe made a mistake, but he’s too comfortable to care. He likes where he is too much to move, enjoys the way that each man reaches out and gently touches him.

Laving his tongue over his bottom lip to part them, Carl’s eyes flick to the slim book in Dwight’s long fingered hand. “Poetry.”

Negan hums and smiles, closing his eyes and turning to face Dwight, burying his nose into the man’s hip. Dwight smiles and opens the book to the first poem, beginning to read as he gently combs his free fingers through Negan’s hair.

His voice is steady and warm as he reads, rhythm just right and tone changing up when the need calls for it. If he stumbles, he simply repeats the word and carries on without making a big deal of it.

By the third poem, Negan is asleep and snoring softly.

Carl drifts farther and farther as Dwight’s voice washes over him. He only knows that he outlasts Negan because he can remember Dwight lilting his voice just slightly over the man’s soft snores. He is, if not asleep, then definitely not completely conscious because he can't pull his eyes open on his own or even move, all he can do is listen.

It’s wonderful. In his half asleep state he relaxes a little, leaning his weight against the couch as he breathes deeply.

Dwight does read all the poems in the short book, though he thinks the latter ones fall on deaf ears. When he’s done, he simply closes the book and sets it aside, looking down on the two men asleep against him. He wonders if this is how it will be later tonight in the bed, or if they will put someone else in the middle.

As it is, Dwight lets himself daydream off for a while, unwilling to move while Negan and Carl sleep.

~

“Ah, I thought I’d find you in here! It seems- Oh!” Ezekiel quickly throws a hand over his mouth as he finds his three guests dozing on the couch in the library. Dwight’s the first to open his eyes, waving at the king.

“Hello. What time is it?” he asks, rubbing at his face.

“Time for dinner,” Ezekiel says, softer than the first time. “But, it can wait if you all are not ready.”

“No, no. We should probably get up and eat.”

Carl, who is at least more awake than Negan, shoves gently at the captain’s good shoulder as he uncurls his legs. The limbs are heavy and feel like thousands of ants are running around under his skin. Using the couch as an anchor, he shoves himself to his feet.

“Oh dear.” He regrets this action immediately, stumbling slightly.

“Careful, now.” Ezekiel is quick to catch Carl under the arms, helping hold him stable on his feet. “Stood up a bit too fast, eh?”

Meanwhile, Negan is stretching like a large cat on the couch, back arching over Dwight’s lap. “Mm… Wha’s happenin’?”

“Dinner time, dear.”

“Thanks,” Carl murmurs, shaking out his legs and rolling his ankles. He gives a small hop and nods finding his feet more sturdy beneath him. “What are we having?” he asks, turning to grin at Ezekiel.

“Eager, I see!” Ezekiel laughs, keeping a hand behind Carl incase he goes unsteady again. “I believe tonight is an array inspired by the lands of Mexico. I saw some colorful rice and beans and corn on my way through the kitchen. Should be some spiced meats as well.”

“For your food and company, your grace? Always,” Carl says smilingly. He can practically already taste the food.

Ezekiel laughs big and loud, squeezing Carl’s shoulder. “Well, alright! Let’s not keep you waiting any longer.” Dwight and Negan have stood by this point and seem ready to go, if not still a little sleepy. Negan mumbles something about spicy food again, but Dwight shushes him.

They take their usual seats at the table, food already laid out for them to pick from. There’s stacks of flour and corn tortillas in the middle surrounded by the meat and rice and toppings; Corn, in various colors, onions, tomatoes, and various sauces of all colors.

Carl begins filling his plate with flour tortillas and various vegetables and meats. He gravitates to things that smell strongly of spice first. “How was your day, your eminence?”

“Very well, thank you, Master Carl,” Ezekiel says with a wink, filling the goblets as he always does. Tonight it looks like a yellow beer, and he adds a wedge of lime to each glass. “And how was yours?”

“Oh brilliant,” Carl answers, plucking his lime up and squeezing it into the goblet with ferocity. “We went to a production, hired a new crewmate, and ate on the beach.”

“What a delightful day!”

Across the table, Negan is sniffing certain things and having Dwight taste test them. He’s also separated out some green pepper slices from the rice on his plate and is subtly trying to pass them to Carl.

“It’s the rabbit and the wolf play going on right now, correct? You’ll have to come back again when they do the tiger and the sparrow. Shiva gets to participate, and she so loves the attention!”

Shiva looks up from her spot at the head of the table when she hears her name, chuffing softly. She gets a head rub from Dwight for her efforts.

“Indeed it was,” Carl affirms. “It was quite something, surprised me.” Smiling over at Shiva, he pushes his plate closer to Negan, accepting the peppers. “I’m sure that she is absolutely magnificent on stage.”

“Aye, that she is.” Ezekiel tosses her a piece of meat that she catches in the air and swallows down with a purr.

They eat and chat as they have so many nights already, but once the main food is gone, and they’re just nursing their drinks, Ezekiel leans in conspiratorially.

“I have something to show you,” he says, slipping a hand inside his vest. “Found it while I was cleaning my workshop out. I’ve been going through books trying to figure out what it could mean, but haven’t a clue.” He pulls out a folded piece of smooth leather, laying it out on the center of the table. Little black dots and lines are set into the surface like a tattoo, seemingly random.

Carl is more focused on dessert, figuring that Ezekiel is speaking more to the two pirates than himself. He listens idly as he reaches out for what he thinks is a desert cake with chili powder on it.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Dwight says, reaching out to touch the leather and drag it closer. “Ugh, it feels like… skin.”

Negan leans in, studying the markings intently. “Not some kind of code is it? Dots and dashes equal letters somehow?”

“I tried that, but it’s not really uniform enough to be any kind of code,” Ezekiel says, chin in his hand. “Doesn’t correlate with any maps I’ve got either. They’re not islands or cities or anything, from what I can find.”

Carl glances over, chewing on his cake happily and narrows his eyes at the strip of leather. Putting his fork down, he leans half into the king to reach and pick it up, flipping it sideways and eyeing it up and down as he finishes chewing. He swallows and pushes a few dishes aside to better place it to where the three men can see him pointing.

“It’s Eridanus,” he comments, pointing to the very first X at the top side of the leather. “See this is Cursa,” he drags his finger along connecting each little dot and line to the last X, “and this is Achernar.”

“Wait… Eri… Eridanus? Why does that sound familiar?” Negan taps at his chin, eyebrows furrowing. He jolts when Dwight puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh my lord. They’re stars.”

“A star map,” Ezekiel says with glee, his smile growing large. He reaches for Carl, shaking him with excitement. “A star map you can read! Fantastic work, Master Carl!”

Carl attempts to not be offended and is largely successful.

“My uncle used to tell me that mermaids taught the first sailors to navigate via the stars,” Carl explains with a small shrug. It had been one of the things he had loved about Shane before everything happened.

“Eridanus is called the great river. There are many stories about it from many cultures, chief among them being the Greek.” He breaks off more of his cake, staring at the strip of leather with interest.

“Interesting. So, does it just show constellations, or is it truly a map leading somewhere?” Dwight asks. “And if it leads somewhere… Where?”

“If I had to guess, it’s a map, but that’s only based off of myth,” Carl says, tapping the leather softly as he thinks. “Do not take my word as law, but…”

He eyes the path of Eridanus again as it’s the focal point of the sheet. He can see pieces of other constellations but never the whole like this one. “They say that the path of the constellation is the path Phaethon - the god Helios’ son - took when he stole his father’s chariot and Zeus struck him into the great river.” He breaks off another piece of his cake with his off hand. “Of course they also say that Prometheus took the path of this constellation down to man with the fire he stole.”

The pirates all hum and nod, taking this information in. “I’ve read these myths,” Ezekiel says.

“Aye, I’ve heard the fire bringer,” Negan says. “But… that still doesn’t explain this.” He waves his hand at the star map. “Say we follow these stars. What do we find at the end? Fire?”

“That’s the mystery of it, yes?” Ezekiel says with a gleam in his eye. “The treasure marked with an ‘X’ at the end.” He points to the thick crossed lines near the bottom of the map.

“The tail of Eridanus should end somewhere in Brazil this time of year,” Carl points out. “It’s about November, perfect time to head to warmer waters.”

Negan hums, eyes calculating as his brain immediately starts tracking the route to Brazil. He’s been in those water before, but never with such a goal in mind.

“What are you thinking, Captain?” Dwight asks, seeing that familiar look on Negan’s face.

“I’m thinking we have our heading,” Negan says, looking around the table. “If thats alright with you, Zeke. It is your map.”

Ezekiel waves his hands, sitting back. “Please. You know my sailing days are done.”

“Carl?” Negan raises his eyebrows at Carl. “You up for an adventure?”

Carl lifts his goblet, rolling it against his bottom lip for a moment as he eyes the star map. “Is it even a question? Of course.”

Ezekiel grins and raises his glass. “Go forth, my friends! Find the secrets of the stars! Follow the myth! And if you do find treasure, bring some back to me!”

Negan laughs and raises his glass. “Here’s to legends and truth!”

“To the sea and her mysteries,” says Dwight, raising his.

Carl laughs softly and raises his as well. “To finding something worth discovering!”

Their glasses clink together and they drink deep, the thrill of new lands and new sights and new dangers coursing through them.

“We’ll have to pick up some star charts tomorrow,” Dwight says once their glasses are back on the table. “And a bit more food. Up for one more shopping day, Carl?”

“If you’ll have me,” Carl says with a nod, settling his empty goblet on the table.

Negan looks like he wants to say something cheeky to that, but Dwight stops him with an, “Of course. You know what we’re looking for, so I can’t do it without you.”

Carl waves a dismissive hand. “I’m sure Arat would be just as good if not better, but I’ll do as I can.”

Dwight makes a noncommittal hum and tilts his head. “Aye, she might, but it’ll be more enjoyable if it’s you by my side.”

Carl can’t help but smile softly. “I look forward to it.”

“While you two are off enjoying each other, Ezekiel and I will go through the library,” Negan says with a nod towards the king. “Find as much info about the myth or myths as we can.”

“Aye.”

“How did you come about this map, anyway?”

Ezekiel shrugs. “Like I said, found it while I was cleaning my workshop. I receive boxes of supplies from all over. Must have been tucked within one.”

“Check things that have to do with Pandora as well,” Carl says, ignoring the captain’s innuendo. “From what I know, her creation was directly related to Prometheus bringing fire to man.”

“We shall do that. Thank you for sharing your knowledge,” Ezekiel says, reaching over to pet Carl as he would Shiva.

Carl practically preens under the touch. “It wouldn’t do me any good to keep it to myself.”

His eyes flick almost nervously to Dwight. “Should we retire? Big day tomorrow it seems.”

“I think that sounds good. We’ll need the energy for tomorrow, eh?” Dwight reaches to run his hand down Negan’s back, earning a nod from the captain.

“Wonderful,” Ezekiel gives a nod, standing from the table. “Have a good night, my friends. Pleasant dreams. I shall see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well, your grace,” Carl says, getting to his feet as well and giving the man a slight bow at the waist.

Ezekiel gives him another pat before heading off, Negan and Dwight collecting Carl to head out themselves.

When they reach their hall of rooms, Dwight gives Carl a knowing look as he hooks his arms around one of Negan’s. “Carl, will you be joining us tonight?” he asks, trying to keep the smile off his face.

Negan’s not even looking at him though, sights set on Carl with a silent hope in his eyes. His fingers are twitching, breath held, as he waits to hear Carl’s answer. They’d been turned down all week, so Negan is ready for the disappointment, but he can’t help but still crave it.

“I thought we decided on this earlier,” Carl tuts, glancing away embarrassed.

After a breath, he steps towards the two of them. “Just to sleep.”

Negan blinks, his breath stuttering out as his mind catches up to what Carl has said. “Wait… Wha… You’re…?”

“Shh. Don’t hurt yourself, dear,” Dwight says with a chuckle, pushing Negan towards the room. “He’s going to sleep with us, okay? Just sleep. Is that good for you?”

Negan nods quickly, looking from Dwight to Carl as he opens the door and ushers them both in. “Yeah. Yeah. I can be good. I can be so good. Carl, just tell me if I overstep, okay?”

Carl’s traitorous brain immediately jumps to the many ways that Negan could be good for them. He banishes the thoughts, stepping into the room and trying not to feel as if he’s made his way into a wolves’ den.

“Trust me, you will know if you do,” Carl comments. He eyes the bed, skin already prickling with the knowledge that he is going to have to take off more things than usual. He ignores the discomfort, sliding his gaze briefly to Dwight for some sort of direction to where he needs to put his things and how he’ll best fit in the bed.

“There’s pajamas in here you can use if you’d like, Carl,” Dwight says, opening a dresser drawer and removing a soft shirt and pair of pants for himself.

Negan closes the door and starts removing his belts and weapons onto the dining table. He’s trying to quell his excitement, but there’s a tremble to his fingers and a smile plastered on his face. Even if he’s not going to get off, just having Carl agree to be with them is a big step, and he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“I…” Carl glances at the chest of drawers and grimaces, “I don’t really…”

Even at home he always just slept in his softest day clothes, or…well a few times in some of his mothers old night dresses after Judith was born and she needed more supplies than he needed clothes.

He turns away from the dresser to instead begin pulling one of the chairs at the small breakfast table out. He pulls his boots off first and lines them up underneath it. He starts stripping off his jewelry next, laying each piece on the tabletop. He pauses at his forefinger, pulling off Negan’s ring and turning towards him.

“You should have this back,” he comments, tossing the ring towards the captain.

Negan catches it with one hand, examining it in the lantern light. “Was wondering if you were gonna give it back to me,” he says with a chuckle, adding it to his own pile on the table. He steps out of his boots before slipping his shirt off, leaving him in just his cotton pants. “You’ve got some of the lightest fingers I’ve ever seen.”

Carl shrugs, more focused on divesting himself of his waist beads and his belts than his words. “Spent a lot more time around criminals than I should have growing up, you learn a thing or two.”

He slips his dagger and sheath off his belt and sets it aside from where he’s leaning his rapier up in the chair. The belts end up coiled around the sword along with his folded up vest and the rest of the coin purses on him.

“Yeah? Looks like it.” Negan laughs softly, looking over the mess of weapons and coin bags.

Dwight has finished getting his new shirt and pants on and is busying himself with turning the blankets down on the bed. It’s definitely big enough for the three of them with minimal touching, but he knows Negan is going to be sprawled over whoever is next to him regardless.

Carl lifts his dagger from the table, now only in his shirt and trousers, and turns towards the bed. Addressing Dwight, he angles his head towards it. “Where do you want me?”

“Would you be comfortable in the middle?” Dwight asks, slipping into the bed along one side and rubbing his hand invitingly over the center of the mattress. “I think that’s the most fair for us getting to share you, but if you rather the edge, we can do that.”

Negan nods in agreement, folding his arms behind himself to keep from reaching and touching just yet. Carl looks so soft in just his plain clothes, and god, Negan wants to eat him up.

Carl hums, flipping around his sheathed dagger to catch it by the handle, twirling it around his wrist and catching it again as he eyes the bed. He walks over, smoothing a hand over the flat top of the sturdy headboard. He lays his dagger there, right along the middle of the surface.

“A- yes,” he says agreeably, looking down at Dwight, “I can take the middle.”

He feels over the blankets, making sure both men will have enough slack and be unencumbered by him laying atop them. When he decides they will have more than enough cover, he climbs onto the mattress and settles in the middle- resting his head on the pillow Dwight has fixed for him, folding his arms, and crossing his ankles.

“You really sleep like that every time?” Negan asks, lowering the lanterns before coming over and slipping into the bed, under the blanket, on Carl’s free side. “Is it comfortable?”

Dwight makes himself comfy under the blankets on his side, laying on his side facing Carl. He chuckles softly and rests his hand over the one of Carl’s closest to him.

Carl peaks open an eye side-eyeing the captain. “It is good for your back and the symmetry of your face,” Carl quotes his mother.

He closes his eye once more, not pulling his hand from the other man’s. “You are better defended this way, and I find since I was shot I seldom can sleep any other way.”

“Interesting,” Negan says with a soft laugh, lying on his stomach with his face towards Carl. He reaches out himself to gently place his hand over Carl’s closest to him, seeing that Dwight did it and didn’t get stabbed. “Whatever floats your boat, kid.”

“Good night,” he tells the two men softly, acclimating himself to their touch as best he can. It doesn’t take long to fall asleep, it never does, even with the two foreign forms on either side of him.

Carl wakes briefly in the night when a weight settles over him, hand instinctively jerking up towards where his dagger rests before his tired eyes land on Negan. The Captain is sprawled halfway across him in his sleep, hand flung out to catch Dwight by the hip where the first mate has turned his back to him and is barely an inch from pressing against Carl’s side.

Crossing his arms back, Carl sighs and closes his eyes. Maybe he tells himself it’s not worth it to shove Negan off, but he knows deep inside that he loves this.

Chapter 13

Summary:

A lazy morning in bed results in some firsts.

Notes:

R: this chapter makes me go all giggly and feet kicking 🥰🥰

 

As the sun comes up above the horizon, Dwight feels himself come back into consciousness. His eyes stay closed as he comes out of the dream he was having, taking stock of his body. He can feel a familiar hand on him, and a body pressed along the line of his back. He smiles, remembering that they got Carl into bed with them.

Shifting, he presses a little more against Carl, reaching to place his hand over Negan’s on his hip. The captain must surely be using Carl as a pillow with how he’s reached over him, and Dwight wonders if Carl’s aware.

Carl wakes with dawn, as always.

Negan is practically on top of him, hand anchored on Dwight keeping them clutched tightly together. There’s not the room to slide a coin between their bodies and Carl could almost laugh at how right it feels.

Instead he sighs softly, threading his fingers through Negan’s hair where his head rests on Carl’s ribs. He lies in wait until Dwight begins to stir next to him.

“Good morning,” he whispers.

Dwight makes a soft noise in surprise, but smiles and tries to turn his head enough to see Carl. “Morning,” he whispers back, voice rough with sleep.

Good things can’t last forever, Carl knows, but he breathes deeply anyway, sweeping his fingers through Negan’s short hair. Soon enough someone will bring food by, he doubts it’s escaped the castle’s notice that he isn’t sequestered in his own room.

He tugs softly at Negan’s hair, not opening his eyes. “Good morning,” he says a bit more firmly to the captain.

“If you’re trying to wake him up, good luck,” Dwight says with a breath of a laugh. He shifts, loosening Negan’s hold on his hip enough for him to flip over and face Carl, resetting Negan’s hand on his hip again. Dwight smiles at the sight of Carl’s fingers in Negan’s hair, and knows that if Negan was awake, he’d be purring like a cat.

“Well, he woke up when I was trying to kill him,” Carl observes easily. He lifts his free hand above his head, grabbing his dagger in its sheath. Tossing it slightly, the handle smacks into his hand softly.

He lowers the dagger, pressing it flat between his ribs and Negan’s throat. “Hello, my dear,” he murmurs.

Dwight lets out a soft yip as Negan’s grip on his hip tightens. “Oh my…”

“Dagger again, huh?” Negan mumbles, voice thick and gooey. He tilts his head up, bumping his forehead against Carl’s chin. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Carl’s eyes lower to slits and he stares down at the man. They’re far too close together, Negan’s weight half on top of him and his hair tickling Carl’s nose even with his fingers still tangled in it.

“It quite seems the only way to wake you,” Carl says, voice hushed.

“Nah. There’s lots more ways,” Negan murmurs, his eyes still closed. “More enjoyable ways.”

Dwight chuckles, reaching out to skim his fingers over Negan’s cheek and down his jaw. “He’s a princess. Likes a kiss to wake him up.” Dwight traces Negan’s lips, shifting to rest his head on Carl’s shoulder.

“Hm.” Carl vocalizes, fingers flexing in Negan’s hair. His sheathed blade is still at the captains throat, and his body is still held still and pliant by the men resting on him.

“In my experience, touching someone in their sleep can be a very dangerous endeavor,” Carl speaks lowly. His grip tightens on his dagger, shifting it upward slightly, beneath Negan’s chin. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Sure, I understand,” Negan says, wetting the pads of Dwight’s fingers with the tip of his tongue.

Dwight makes a soft noise and pulls them away, resting his palm down on Carl’s chest, feeling his heart beat.

“I also understand that if you keep tugging on my hair like that, you’re gonna wake something else up.” He shifts his legs, still trapped below the blanket.

“Don’t be crude, love. We’re having a nice morning,” Dwight says with a click of his tongue.

“‘M just stating facts,” Negan sighs, blindly sliding his hand up to Dwight’s face to pat it just to be annoying. Dwight snorts and catches it, trapping it down against Carl’s chest.

Carl’s hand shifts from the older man’s hair to the back of his neck, squeezing. “You said you would be good.”

His eyes are on Negan’s mouth though, slick from his tongue and right there. He can't help but wet his own lips at the sight before digging his teeth into his bottom lip to stop himself from saying something more.

He wonders if they can feel the uneven drum of his heart under their hands and for half a moment he doesn’t really care. He wants and there lies the problem. He fears it can be seen right there on his face, and he’s only safe because Negan still has his eyes shut.

But Dwight doesn’t.

“I’m being good,” Negan breathes, almost a whine, shivering at the hand on the back of his neck. “So good. I ain’t done nothing but sleep.” Would still be asleep if they hadn’t woken him up.

Dwight shifts his hand, reaching out to press under Negan’s chin, tilting it up until his nose bumps Carl’s jaw. Negan’s breath is shuddery as he gently nuzzles in there.

“You’re being so good for me too, Carl,” he whispers. “Letting us be here with you. Letting us touch you. Did you sleep well?”

Negan’s breath shudders across Carl’s jaw tickling at the sensitive skin of his throat and he nearly gasps, just barely clamping down on it with his teeth digging into the plushness of his bottom lip. He clenches his eyes shut, whole body going still because that’s his only option as escape will just make everything so obvious.

“As well as I always do,” he answers thinly. It’s the same thing he always says when someone asks how he’s slept, but even he can hear the odd lilt in his quiet words.

“No better?” Negan asks with a small smile. He can feel Dwight pushing on his hand, so he lets it go slack until he realizes what Dwight’s trying to do. Following the direction of the push, Negan slides his hand up from Carl’s chest to cup around the side of his neck. His fingers dig into the nape of his neck where soft hair grows while his thumb traces the line of Carl’s jaw and tilts Carl’s head toward him.

Carl’s breath practically trembles out of him. He can’t control the way he leans into the hand at his jaw, Negan is so warm and the roughness of his palm feels wonderful against his skin.

He wants to say that he always sleeps the same. No matter where he is or who he’s with, he sleeps deep and even and wakes up with the sun. It’s been like that for as long as he could remember. That’s a lot of words for right now though, when he’s aching to just press as much of himself as he can into Negan’s palm. “Just the same.”

“Yeah?” Negan hums soft, feeling the way Carl is melting into his touch. He so nervous he’s going to fuck this up somehow, scare Carl by pushing too hard. He wants to open his eyes and see the beautiful boy in his bed, but he’s so afraid it’ll break the spell if Carl knows Negan can see him. He wants to give Carl the gift of privacy for as long as he can.

“Well, how did you wake up then?” he asks, shifting to move his head up a little higher, nose bumping Carl’s cheek now.

The same as he always does. “The sun.”

Except he’s hardly focusing on anything but the briefest of touches against his cheek. He gasps, mouth parting at the slight prickle of Negan’s facial hair against his cheek.

He can’t move, can’t make himself. He thinks moving would be terrible, but opening his eyes and finding that Negan is making fun of him or something would be worse. He doesn’t know what to do.

Negan hums again, trailing his nose over until it bumps Carl’s. Until he can feel Carl’s breath on his own lips and knows that they’re lined up without looking. He keeps a steady hold on Carl, so utterly surprised and elated that he hasn’t been stabbed or pulled away yet.

“Carl,” he murmurs, so, so softly. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

His heart is thundering under Dwight’s hand, he can feel it, and his fingers flex on the back of Negan’s neck where he’s still not pulled away. He’s weak for this, wanting in a way he never felt back in Alexandria. “Please.”

That’s all Negan needs before he’s pressing their lips together, kissing Carl with the gentleness he deserves but with the want that has burned in Negan’s chest since the moment he saw Carl. It’s perfect and warm and lazy, and Negan doesn’t want to wake up any other way ever again.

A horrible humming sound escapes Carl’s throat as he pushes up into the kiss, fingers scratching at the short hairs at the back of Negan’s neck. The kiss is wonderful. It’s not messy or too harsh or uncoordinated. It’s warm and soft and Negan isn’t pushing. It’s lovely.

Negan memorizes Carl’s noises, his scent, the softness of his lips. It’s all so good. So perfect. He wants so much of Carl. Wants to consume and take, sink his teeth into bone and eat and eat. He won’t of course, not unless Carl asked it of him, but right now he knows he’s still treading dangerous water.

With a few quick kisses to linger on, Negan pulls back just enough to breathe, breath coming heavy. He finally opens his eyes and feels his heart stop at the sight that meets him. Carl so close, pink lips wet from Negan’s, hair splayed out on the pillow beneath like a halo. Lord.

Carl is trying to catch his breath as soon as Negan pulls away, feeling more than a little flushed and bubbly inside. His eyes come open in slits and his chest heaves a little at the sight of the pirate looking over him… practically trapping him here and keeping him stationary with just his gaze. Carl nearly squirms at the thought, hand twitching and tightening on the handle of his dagger and consequently rubbing up against the hand still pressed to his chest.

Even though he knows what Negan said before about him and Dwight being open, the reminder that the other man is here is almost jarring. It’s as much of a comfort as it is something positively nerve racking. He can’t help but cast his gaze to the blond man, searching nervously for any kind of upset.

But there’s none to be found. Dwight is watching with a smile and light blush on his face, his eyes flicking up from where their lips had just been connected to Carl’s blue eyes.

“Good?” he asks, voice soft like he’s afraid any volume will break the moment.

Carl’s tongue slips out slightly, as if he can still taste Negan lingering on his lips. His gaze drops for a moment to Dwight’s mouth and then back up again.

Summoning every bit of boldness he has in hopes that just maybe Dwight will kiss him as well, Carl murmurs, “Could be better.”

Dwight grins as Negan scoffs playfully, loosening his hold on Carl’s jaw and pressing a kiss to Carl’s cheek.

“Let me see if I can help, yeah?” Dwight says, moving his hand from Carl’s chest up to his chin. Dwight turns Carl’s face more towards him and leans in, going slow and giving Carl time to pull back if he wants, before capturing his lips in a kiss just as warm and wanting as Negan’s.

Kissing Dwight somehow feels less dangerous. He can’t fathom why when he knows Negan is no real danger to him. Yet the soft, warm kiss that the first mate gives him just seems less like throwing yourself off a waterfall and more like stepping into one of those hot springs. It’s comfortable, safe, and Carl adores it just as much as he did Negan’s kiss.

When Dwight pulls back, he bumps their noses together with a smile, tracing Carl’s bottom lip with the tip of his finger. Carl’s lips are so pink and taste like him and Negan, an ambrosia Dwight could get drunk on.

“Good?” he asks again, eyes flicking over to see Negan watching the two of them with desire swimming in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Carl breathes, honestly a little lost and out of it. He’s half craving more, half ready to ricochet around the room with energy. He swallows. “Really good.”

“Good.” Dwight presses a quick kiss to the bridge of Carl’s nose before pulling back again when he feels Negan’s hand slip into his blond hair.

“D…”

“Yes, dear. I’m here.” Dwight reaches for Negan and they meet in the middle, kissing directly over Carl.

Carl nearly purrs. He doesn’t have to look away this time, he doesn’t have to be polite. He can just watch. And what a wonderful picture it is. He could watch these two men for hours, he has little doubt about that.

They pull apart with a soft moan from Negan. He licks his lips and looks down at Carl and then to Dwight and back to Carl before grinning. “Fuck, I’m so happy. This is great,” he says, smoothing a hand down Carl’s chest to his hip and giving him a soft squeeze.

“Quite so,” Dwight says, curling up against Carl and tucking his head in against Carl’s shoulder.

Carl hums, tugging softly at the back of Negan’s neck to pull the pirate back down half on top of him where he can pet his hand through the captain’s hair again. “I suppose we can laze a little longer.”

Negan laughs and melts into Carl’s touch, closing his eyes as he laces his hand with Dwight’s over Carl’s chest again. It’s a good position. He likes being close to both of his boys like this.

Carl finds that he could get used to this, that he wants to. And isn’t that just terrifying? Because that means he might have something to lose again. He takes a breath, stroking his thumb back and forth over the pommel of his dagger in the same tempo as he strokes through Negan’s hair.

Chapter 14

Summary:

Setting sail for a new adventure with some new crew~

Notes:

T: Welcome to our new adventure with our motley crew of characters! Warning from here, we’re using mythology fast and loose as a plot device.

R: Also another little brief misunderstanding/quarrel between the boys 🤭

 

The day goes by in a blur of shopping for maps and extra food for Carl and Dwight, and pouring over book after book for Negan and Ezekiel. By time they fall into bed together again, they’re too tired to do much else besides a goodnight kiss and pass out.

Gathering all of their stuff the next day, they share breakfast with Ezekiel before sharing a bittersweet goodbye. The King wishes them all a safe voyage, and slips Carl a few more shiny pieces of jewelry for his collection, before waving them off.

The crew is filing onto the boat by the time they arrive, getting the Lucille ready to set sail. There’s a couple new faces in the crowd, including Laura and Arat who already look thick as thieves.

“Ah, nice to be back aboard,” Negan says, taking a deep breath of the ocean air from up on the quarterdeck.

Carl rolls his eyes fondly at the Captain and makes a round of the ship while the two older men get settled. He makes sure everyone is on board, welcomes their two new crew members who seem to be eyeing him differently than before, and pit stops to the kitchen.

Cook at least is happy to see him, gushing about the smoked eggs and the water tight barrel he made sure they replaced for a fresh clam and fish supply. He slips the man a few vials of spices that weren’t on the list, happy to see Cook as well, before making his way back on deck.

“Everyone is on deck unless you two hired people I’m unaware of,” he says as soon as he sees Dwight. He’s eager to cast off now that he knows he won’t have to jump out and swim back to shore to keep from returning to Alexandria.

“It does look like there’s a few more mouths to feed. Whether they were hired or snuck on is still to be seen, but anyone not fit for the crew usually gets found out in a day or two and becomes shark food, so…” Dwight shrugs. “We have our heading from our star charts, yes? Let the helmsman know once we’re out of the port.”

Carl waves a hand. “Unless Negan has missed another stowaway under his bed we are set.”

He tilts his head towards Arat who he already has cross checking star maps and sea maps. “She’ll have our heading for him as soon as it’s required.”

“Good. Thank you.” Dwight smiles and reaches out to ruffle Carl’s hair. “I’ll go let the captain know. He’ll want to do his little speech for the crew before we shove off.”

And indeed, Negan shows up at the balcony of the helm a few minutes later, letting out his signature two toned whistle. The crew whistles back and turns the attention to the captain.

“Alright, men… and women… pirates! We are beginning a journey to find the secrets at the end of a myth. The road will be long and no doubt dangerous. I have no guarantee that you will live to see the end, nor do I know what we will find when we get there, but that’s the beauty of a treasure hunt, eh? We are voyaging out to seek answers, and carve our name in history! Who’s ready?”

There’s a grand cheer from the crew, everyone throwing their hands up.

“I ask again, who’s ready?”

A louder cheer rings out that has Negan grinning from ear to ear.

“Raise the anchor! Onward to adventure!”

Carl doesn’t bother to shield his smile from the rest of the pirates. He chuckles and shakes his head, gently nudging Laura who’s next to him. “Come on, let’s raise the gangplank and help the boys cast off.”

The blonde woman’s eyes flit between Carl, Dwight, and Negan before coming back to him as she follows him over to the gangplank. “Is he always like that?”

“Oh no,” Carl waves a dismissive hand, grinning over at her. “Usually he’s worse.”

Laura is clearly fighting a smile as they unlatch the gangplank and haul it aboard.

Once the anchor is raised and the ship is free, she catches the wind in her sails and moves on out of the port.

There’s something satisfying about the familiar rocking of the boat beneath Negan’s feet, he thinks. Something that you just don’t get on dry land.

He looks about at his crew, seeing how they’re working together. He’s glad to see them all looking pretty excited, though he knows in a few weeks time the morale may lower. That’s how it goes with these long trips.

As they enter out into the open sea, Negan looks for Carl or Arat to make sure someone has steered them in the right direction.

Carl sidles up next to the captain, arms politely clasped behind his back. “I think the helmsman is scared of Arat,” he comments lightly. He tries to share an amused look with the older man. “Not that I blame him.”

Negan snorts and looks up to see Arat pointing aggressively at a map and the helmsman nodding like his life depends on it, turning the wheel to get them into position. Negan laughs and rests a hand on Carl’s shoulder. “He can be as scared of her as ever, just as long as he listens to her.”

Carl hums nodding and glancing around the ship. He’s glad to be back aboard Lucille even if he’s somehow less sure of his place than before. “Do you need me for anything? Or shall I go assist Cook?”

“You may do as you wish, Master Carl,” Negan says with a wink down at Carl. “Things should be pretty smooth for a while now, until we sail into trouble.”

“You think you’re funny, but you aren’t,” Carl huffs, not upset but definitely slightly annoyed. He shakes his head and begins to walk towards the galley making the captain have to let go of him. “You know where to find me if you need me, Negan, try not to search out any trouble.”

“Don’t worry! It finds me!” Negan calls after Carl, laughing at his own joke.

“Don’t I know it,” Carl shakes his head, already making his way to the galley.

~

A few hours out on sea, Negan’s humming along to the song a few crewmen are singing as he makes his rounds. Everyone looks well, refreshed from a week on land with good food and good company. He stops when he finds Laura and Arat talking together, giving them a smile.

“Hello, ladies. I hope your first day aboard the Lucille is going well,” he says, folding his arms behind his back. “Don’t hesitate to tell me or Dwight if something is not to your liking.”

The two women pause their quiet conversation to gaze at the captain for a moment. They glance to each other once more before Arat shrugs and Laura narrows her eyes at the captain.

“There is some confusion about the hierarchy of your ship, Captain,” she says, tucking some of her blonde hair behind her ear. “Is Sir Dwight your first mate or your quartermaster? I was sure that you introduced him to me as first mate but Arat says that the handling of crews like this usually come from the quartermaster.”

Negan makes an uneasy noise and wiggles a hand back and forth. “Technically, he’s first mate,” Negan says. “We lost our last quartermaster, and haven’t replaced him yet, so Dwight’s taken one some more responsibilities as of late.” He leans in a bit and raises his eyebrows. “Though, young Carl, who is also a recent recruit, has been showing much promise in filling the position. Don’t let him hear me say it though. He thinks he’s unfit for the position, despite the contrary.”

Both women have their own predictions on what’s going on there, not that they’ll ever voice it.

Arat nods. “He’s a well-spoken boy with a good ‘ead on his shoulders. I could see ‘im in the position, but ‘e wouldn’t be wrong that an outsider might think ‘im a little young.”

Laura frowns at her newfound crewmate. “What’s his age matter? If he can do the work he can have the job. It’s a pirate ship not the royal navy.”

Arat gives a shrug. “Just sayin’ it like I’m seein’ it.”

“Aye, from the outside I get it, but anyone who talks to him for more than a minute can see he’s qualified,” Negan agrees with a shrug of his own. “Here’s hope that he sticks around long enough to grow into the position.”

Both women highly doubt the boy would be going anywhere, but before either can voice it the dinner bell is sounding from the galley. Arat nudges the other woman, grinning. “Soups on!”

Negan laughs softly and steps out of the way. “Have a good dinner, ladies! Thanks again for joining the crew.”

Both women politely excuse themselves from the captain and toe their way down to the galley with a few of the men not manning the deck. They’re almost surprised to find the topic of their conversation there, hair pulled back and sleeves rolled up as he helps Cook layer slices of pork on top of fluffy potatoes.

“I hope your first day has been well, my ladies,” Carl says, holding out a bowl for each of them, winking and hooking a finger at a barrel with a spigot down the line. “First night back the rum’s undiluted.”

“Aye, Master Carl,” Arat says, hustling her new partner in crime away to grab drinks before the boy can protest.

Carl stares almost dumbly after the women until Cook smacks his hip with the usual tray. “Better get movin’ ‘fore the captain has to come lookin’ for ya.”

“And you know he will,” Dwight says as he appears in the line, smiling at how adorable Carl looks all ready to work. He cocks his head towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s eat.”

Carl can’t help but roll his eyes, shooing Dwight towards the rum barrel for their drinks as he fixes a bowl for each of them. They meet up by the door, Carl holding out the tray so that Dwight can stack the mugs atop it.

“How’s your day been?” he questions as they make their way towards the captain’s quarters. It feels like he hasn’t seen Dwight at all since they stepped on board.

“Good,” Dwight says. “Bit busy. Had to talk to everyone, find the new people, get their info down. Make sure all our new supplies was logged. I worked with Arat for a bit to plot our course. She’s… interesting. Woman of few words, but good at what she does.”

Carl wouldn’t necessarily call her that. She has plenty of words, all of them are just blunt. “I’m glad. I was worried it would feel strange coming back on board but it’s not at all.”

Other than him feeling like he has no clue what he is supposed to be doing that is.

“Yeah, it’s a strange home, but home nonetheless.” Dwight gives a nod. “So, you have a good day then? Looks like you helped out Cook quite a bit? Might have to get you a chef hat instead of a tricorn.”

Carl snorts inelegantly, it’s not polite at all. “No, lord no. I just didn’t really know what I was supposed to be doing now that we replaced the people I murdered.”

He likes Cook, and he likes helping in the galley, but it’s definitely not his great love or anything like that.

“Well, we’ll just have to find you a daily job or something,” Dwight says as they reach the captain’s door. He knocks but doesn’t wait for an answer before opening it, the typical scene of Negan in his glasses, writing in his journal, greeting them.

“Must be dinner time,” he says, setting his pen down and smiling at the two.

“Yes, because why would we ever want to see you for any other reason,” Carl snarks, sweeping past Dwight with the tray so that he can bring it over to the desk.

Negan puts a hand over his heart and deflates like he’s been punched. “Ooh, you wound me, my dear. So cruel.”

Dwight laughs softly and moves around the desk to drop a kiss to Negan’s head before taking his seat to eat.

“At least one of you likes me,” Negan sighs.

“Like you more if you quit with that fake ‘my dear’ crap,” Carl huffs fondly leaning over to brush a short kiss across Negan’s cheek as he sets the man’s food in front of him.

Negan goes pink as he reaches up to touch where Carl kissed. “Who said it was fake?” he asks, smiling softly. “You are dear to me, are you not?”

“I tried to murder you a month ago,” Carl points out blithely, lowering himself into one of the chairs across from the captain. “Please, I beg you, learn some self-preservation.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I checked under my bed for little monsters first thing,” Negan says, picking up his bowl with a grin. “I admit, I was a little sad not to find you under it.” He winks as he takes a bite, moaning around his spoon.

“Master Dwight, please do something with him,” Carl huffs exasperatedly waving his spoon at the Captain.

Dwight glances between the two of them from over the ridge of his mug, swallowing down his drink of rum before shrugging. “I suggest just tuning him out.”

“Hey!”

“But, I mean… He’s also been tame so far. You know how dirty he can get.” Eyeing the captain, Dwight has a few ideas of how he can shut him up run through his head. Maybe when they’re done eating.

“I suppose he has been good,” Carl decides, pausing with his food halfway to his mouth. “Which is by and large suspicious.”

Carl eats the spoonful, eyeing the captain up and down. He swivels his eyes between the two men, noting the heat in Dwight’s gaze, and mentally concludes that he should retreat to the brig tonight. Perhaps Dwight can reward Negan for his good behavior.

“Think you’re just paranoid, kid,” Negan says with a laugh. “I’m just tryin’a have a nice dinner with my two favorite people, and you gotta come in here playin’ like you don’t even like me.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. His tone is still jovial, but there’s something serious underlying it.

Something that makes Dwight look up from his food to study Negan for a moment.

“If I didn’t like you, neither of us would be here,” Carl mumbles, so softly it can barely be registered.

“Anyway, how was your first day back on the Lucille, eh?” Negan asks, looking to Carl.

Carl sips his rum to wash down some of his food. “Quiet. Is that odd to say? After how loud The Kingdom was… it’s just so quiet.”

Dwight and Negan both nod. “Yeah… Wait until it’s the dead of night with naught but the sound of waves on the boat,” Dwight says, taking a drink with a faraway look in his eyes.

Negan hums and looks between the two men. “If things ever get too quiet, my door is always open to you both.”

Dwight looks up and gives him a small smile, ever grateful for Negan looking after him.

Carl laughs softly. “It must be a special skill. Turning every single thing into a way to flirt.”

Negan’s eyebrows furrow softly. He really hadn’t been trying to flirt that time.

Carl scrapes together one of the last few bites of his food and gives a little shrug. “I know it’s no captains cabin but I honestly am excited to be back in the brig, I fixed it up real nice.”

“Yeah? You’ll have to show us sometime,” Dwight says, finishing off his own bowl and eyeing the way Negan seems to be picking at his. “If you want blankets or anything, Negan should have some extra in here.”

“You would think after two nights of sleeping in the same bed as me,” Carl points out idly, pushing his empty bowl away to grab his mug, “you’d realize I don’t really use those.”

He lifts his legs to throw his feet up on the desk mostly by instinct and then jerks awkwardly, remembering himself, before crossing them instead. “But that’s nice, and I’ll keep it in mind.”

Dwight rubs at his neck, embarrassed, as he sets his own bowl down on the tray. “Right, yeah. I forgot. Busy day has my brain scrambled,” he says, nursing his own drink as he sits back. The rum warms his chest and his belly, and he’ll be sad when it starts to run thin. “Could roll it up for a pillow or whatnot then.”

Carl peers between the two men, thoughtful. Finally he looks at Negan and points a finger at Dwight. “That’s his thing isn’t it?”

He ignores any confusion and blunders forward before he can lose his nerve. “Your thing is the joking and the flirting and the generally being flippant even though you mean most of what you say,” Carl comments, finger wavering to Negan for a moment before going right back to Dwight, “and he takes care of people.”

The two men blink back and forth at each other before looking at Carl. “Well, sounds like you have us pegged, kid,” Negan says with a scoff, twirling his spoon in the air.

“I mean… it’s not like we’re doing it on purpose,” Dwight adds, frowning slightly. “Just in our personalities, I guess. Plus…” He looks to Negan, watching the Captain push away his half eaten bowl of food. “Negan takes care of people in his own way.”

Carl doesn’t even look over before pushing the bowl back. “Eat. I worked hard on that, you know.”

Negan bristles at the command, sitting up straighter and petulantly refusing to touch the food. He has half a mind to throw them both out, unaware of where the bad mood creeping up his spine has come from.

Carl shrugs, though, sipping his rum. “It’s really just an observation. There’s talkers and there’s doers and usually those kinds of people pair up.”

“I see,” Dwight says, keeping a keen eye on Negan while talking to Carl. “And, what kind are you then? You’re certainly one to get out there and get what you want, but you’re also witty with the tongue.”

“I guess I’m a doer,” Carl shrugs, knowing that if he’s going to point out the men’s vulnerabilities he should expend the same effort on himself. “Just not the same way you are.”

He sips his rum, eyeing the many rings on his fingers. “I like to be alone. So I give people things. Time, presents. It’s easier.”

Dwight looks to the golden fabric on his wrist at the same time that Negan touches the red scarf around his throat.

“We appreciate all that you give us,” Dwight says, reaching over to touch Carl’s arm gently. “And all of the time that you spend with us.”

“You’re both saps,” Carl mumbles into the lip of his mug averting his gaze. His face is lightly pink in the glow of the oil lamps.

“We try,” Negan says with a soft snort.

Dwight smiles and curls his fingers around Carl’s arm to give it a squeeze. “Like Negan said earlier, you’re dear to us. We just like to show that to you how we can.”

For all the things that Carl is good at, he isn’t good at the whole sappy thing. He’s not very nice and he doesn’t like most people. But he doesn’t want these two pirates feeling like he doesn’t return whatever fondness they hold for him.

He twists his hand around, giving Dwight’s forearm a squeeze as well. Searching for any words that he can shove out so they know he isn’t just taking advantage of this whole situation. What comes out is: “I see it.”

Not exactly a ringing endorsement but it’s words at least. Like he said before, he’s a doer not a sayer.

“Good.” Dwight smiles, holding on to Carl for a bit longer, studying his face, before he glances to Negan and gets an idea. “Now, uh, Carl. Could you help me with something? I’ve got something I need to give to Negan, and I just haven’t been able to find the time all day.”

Sliding his hand down, Dwight takes Carl’s and lifts it towards his face. “Could you give this to him the next time you see him?” Dwight presses a kiss to the back of Carl’s hand with a smile, knowing the captain is watching with interest.

“Christ,” Carl croaks, face burning. He knows it’s foolish to feel so bothered by such a thing when he’s slept in bed with them and kissed them on their mouths. He knows that in a logical sort of way.

He sets his mug down with an awful clatter that disrupts the whole cabin. He’s gentle when he pulls his hand from Dwight’s, shoving his own knuckles against his mouth to hide part of his embarrassment.

“You can’t just do that,” he whispers weakly.

“Aw, hun.” Dwight immediately looks remorseful, even though his eyes are locked on Carl’s blush. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push.” What he thinks is normal and tame is probably skewed from being around Negan too much, he thinks.

“It would have been less intimate to stick your tongue down my throat in front of the entire royal navy,” Carl mumbles feeling like he’s going to melt, and not in the nice warm way from their soft morning.

That has Dwight laughing, though he tries to cover it with his hand. “Well… That sounds more up Negan’s wheelhouse than mine. I prefer the soft affection.”

“Well, that’s quite a bit more than affection,” Carl says, gathering himself up and resisting shaking his whole body to get some feeling back into it. “If you want to give that to Negan you can do it yourself.”

He rounds the desk, stacking all the empty dishes on the tray before pausing next to Negan. “This is from me,” he enunciates clearly, giving the captain more than enough time to redirect him before dropping a soft, short kiss on his mouth.

He glances at Dwight, planning to offer the same before making a hasty escape, but it seems as if he still can’t look at the man without his face going aflame.

“Hey.” Negan reaches out and takes Carl’s hand, dropping a kiss to his knuckles faster than Carl can try to pull away. He knows he’s probably pushing things, but he wants to show his affection just as much as Dwight. And if seeing Carl flustered is a rare treat, well then he’ll just have to indulge while he can. “You give that to Dwight for me, huh? And keep some for yourself.”

“That’s- you-” Carl leaves the tray on the desk and makes his escape over to the door, shoulders prickling as they stiffen. “I will see you both in the morning. I hope you sleep wonderfully.”

Both men flinch as the door slam shuts behind Carl, sitting in silence for a beat.

“I don’t think he meant that. I think he’d rather us sleep very, very horribly.”

Dwight rolls his eyes. “Why did you push him? I didn’t know he was going to react like that to a kiss on the hand, but you did.”

Negan shrugs, looking at his half eaten bowl of dinner. “Just wanted to see what he’d do. I’m honestly surprised I didn’t get punched.”

“I can do that for you if you want.” Dwight rolls his eyes and slumps back in his chair with a sigh. God, they’re a pair.

They’re quiet for a moment, both thinking things over, until Negan asks quietly, “Does everything I say sound insincere?”

Dwight looks at him and shakes his head. “Not to me,” he says. “But, I know you. I’ve been around you for a long time. Carl hasn’t. You have to let him get used to it without it getting to you.”

“It’s just… frustrating. It’s like we’re not speaking the same language.” Groaning and rubbing his face, Negan stands and paces back and forth. “He likes us, I think, but I feel like everything I do is wrong.”

“Just give him time. We’ve got ample of that.” Dwight rises and catches Negan, pulling him into a hug. Negan sighs and melts into it. “It’ll work out.”

“I hope so.”

~

Carl cranks the key in one of the brig’s cells until it unlatches and then he throws himself into the newly cleaned area, snapping the cage door shut with the keys in hand. He drops to the floor like a marionette cut from its strings, cramming himself into the very corner of the cell. It’s stupid, he’s stupid, and it shouldn’t have affected him so much.

He glares at his traitorous hands and then he glares harder at the slight tenting of his trousers before tucking his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them so he can’t see either.

They’re pirates, they don’t get it - is what he tells himself. It’s like how he accidentally upset Negan with his stupid cravat. Culture difference or what have you. Carl can be normal by morning, he just needs a minute to breathe first.

Christ, he only feels his age when he feels stupid. His forehead drops to his knees and he sighs heavily.

Chapter 15

Summary:

Carl spends some time with Cook in the galley.

Notes:

T: I promise the miscommunication is almost over!

R: This chapter is cute though I loved writing Cook haha

 

“Knock, knock.”

Bowl of breakfast in hand, Dwight pokes his head into the brig. Carl seems to be focused on one of his tinctures, and Dwight wonders how early he got up.

“I brought you food. Kind of a habit now, I suppose.” Coming up next to Carl, he holds the bowl out to him, looking around at all the changes that Carl has made.

The brig is still quite obviously a brig but the storage spaces are now full of sturdy crates with a large net spread in front of them, several small clay herb pots have been hung from the center support beam right where the sunlight comes in through the porthole. There’s even a cleanliness about the room that it didn’t have before.

Carl looks up from where he’s set up his traveling apothecary. The waters had been calm this morning, gentle enough that he hadn’t been scared to start pulling out each smaller container of glass jars and vials.

He stills the hand he’s been using to mash up one of the slices of aloe he took from the beach, and holds it out for the bowl.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Dwight says. “Didn’t see you in the galley and wanted to make sure you ate, so.” He shrugs and takes a step back to give Carl his space, not wanting to overstep again and also not wanting to accidentally bump his work.

“How did you sleep?” Carl asks, setting the bowl down so that he can eat as he works. He’d fallen asleep in the cage and woken up the same as always, immediately taking to working on a small well of emergency tinctures and salves they might need on the sea.

“Just fine,” Dwight says, rubbing at his arm. If Negan were here he’d say something like it was a bit cold without Carl there with them, but Dwight keeps his mouth shut. He feels awkward after last night, not knowing what’s too much and what’s not. “I’ll, uh… I’ll leave you to it then. Don’t want to interrupt.”

“You could never be an interruption, Master Dwight,” Carl says softly, looking up from his mortar and pestle. “What can I do to help you today?”

“It’s just gonna be a lot of the same thing everyday now that we’re headin’ out on open ocean. Checkin’ on the crew, checkin’ on the boat,” Dwight says with a shrug. “You can help me do that, if you’d like, but you can also join the crew in anything they’re doing, or continue to help Cook. Whatever you’d like.”

“Just want to make sure I’m pulling my weight is all,” Carl comments, spooning up some of his porridge. The awkwardness is unbearable and Carl sighs, letting the spoon fall back into the bowl. “You didn’t do anything wrong… You know that right?”

Dwight looks away, crossing his arms over himself and holding onto his biceps. “I don’t know that, no,” he says. “We both… Well, Negan knows he pushed, and he’s apologetic for it, but… We’re not quite sure where we stand.”

Carl summons all the energy and emotional stability he can. “Exactly where you did yesterday? I don’t know what you want me to say here. I thought we were working towards something, and then you guys- What? Make fun of me?”

“What?” Dwight frowns, eyebrows furrowing as he looks back at Carl. “We didn’t? That’s not… What do you think happened?” These miscommunications were going to kill them at this rate.

“You kiss someone’s rings to show respect, that’s why you do it for nobles and kings. They have something over you - wealth, power. Ring kissing is a sign of respect,” Carl blurts out, stirring the porridge around before deciding there isn’t enough force in the action and going back to mashing his aloe. “You don’t just go around kissing people’s hands. It’s- it’s… deeply intimate. It’s,” devotion, “not just soft affection.”

Dwight blinks for a moment, watching Carl’s hands as they work the aloe. His rings shine in the light, and Dwight thinks he'd kiss them anytime any day if only he were allowed.

“More than on the lips?” Dwight asks, curious and also melancholy at the new info. He would rank hand kisses way below many of the things they’ve already done. If Carl didn’t view their kisses and sleeping together as intimate… what did he view it as?

“Does it not occur to you how vulnerable such a thing is?” Carl asks, unable to look away from his own hands. “Do you not understand the intrinsic loyalty in such a motion? Lowering yourself and laying something so loving upon someone’s most delicate, most useful, most dangerous part of themself?” Carl clamps his mouth shut, feeling as if he’s said entirely too much and nothing at all.

Dwight is quiet again for a moment, taking in the words, letting them play over and over again in his mind. He gets what Carl is saying, but even before he was a pirate, Dwight remembers giving out hand kisses as greetings to many a person. It wasn’t something nearly as intense as Carl made it out to be. Not to Dwight, at least.

“But does that not apply for kisses upon the lips?” he asks again. “A connection between lips is… intimate and dangerous in and of itself. To be allowed so close to another’s face is an honor. To be aware that they could bite at any time, sink their teeth into you, but have the trust that they won’t. Render each other speechless, speaking through motions and touches. Consuming one another. Giving a piece of yourself to the other.” Dwight’s hands shake softly where they’re still gripping his arms as he shakes his head and huffs out a breath. “Is that not intimate? Does that not portray loyalty? Vulnerability? Affection? Devotion?”

“Of course it’s intimate,” Carl finds himself nearly snapping, “but it is not the same. Not to me.”

His knuckles are white where he grips the pestle and he makes an effort to loosen them. He takes a breath, voice coming out much softer. “Have you not noticed at all that the women and the children of Alexandria wear gloves year round? Our hands are important to us, Master Dwight.”

Dwight had in fact not noticed, usually more occupied with getting food and drink at the Alexandrian tavern during their stops more than anything.

The aloe is starting to foam from how furiously Carl’s been liquidating it. He reaches out, plucking an empty jar from his collection. “My mouth is just a piece of my face, people see it everyday. As intimate as it is to share someone’s breath, to press your mouth against theirs, it is not the same as kissing an unclothed hand.”

“Well, your hands to you and my lips to me seem to be the same level of intimacy. I’m sorry I overstepped. I didn’t know your views on these things. I’ll try to be more conscientious in the future,” Dwight says, feeling his temper rise as he releases his feelings. He’s usually good about keeping a level head, but there’s a pit in his stomach lashing dark tendrils to his heart, and he knows he needs to leave. “So, perhaps think about that the next time you… Think about what we’ve already shared, from my perspective.” With a huff, he turns away, escaping back to the upper deck.

“I’m sorry but unless kissing your lips is a proposition of courtship or marriage in your culture, Master Dwight, then it is not the same,” Carl finally says thinly to the empty room. He scrubs his hands over his face and sighs, feeling miserable and like he has made this whole thing even more of a mess. He glares at his ungloved hands, the catalyst for this entire foolish venture, and wishes desperately that he had his gloves now.

~

Negan watches as Dwight comes up from the brig and immediately locks himself in Negan’s cabin. He frowns, wondering how they fucked up so bad to have Dwight throw a tantrum. Perhaps it would be good to avoid Carl for now, let things cool off. He’ll talk to Dwight later as well. He’s never seen his first mate so upset or angry except on very, very rare occasions, but he’s learned not to poke him while he’s still simmering.

Negan sighs. Day two and already drama. They’re going to be lucky to reach their goal in one piece at this rate.

~

Carl works in the brig until he’s out of simplistic tasks to do, entirely too worked up to focus on anything more complex. After he’s put away each and every piece of what he’s coming to refer to as his traveling apothecary, he makes his way on deck, cold half-eaten porridge in hand.

He feels that perhaps if such a thing is so foolish to Dwight and Negan, maybe he should just drop it, but the idea settles like a rock in his stomach. He cannot be blamed for the culture that he was raised in, or the fact that he puts so much stock on his hands.

He shakes his head at himself, feeling conflicted, and starts on his way to the kitchen. Perhaps Cook can at least put him to work.

~

Cook gets Carl set up peeling potatoes and carrots while he finishes up the last of the dishes. He can tell something is bothering him, call it chef intuition, so when he’s finally drying his hands off he turns to Carl and grunts.

“Alright, kiddo. What’s wrong with ye’?”

Carl sighs, but if there is anyone on this ship that he can say he’s friends with it has to be Cook. “I’m just being foolish.” He looks over at the man. “Don’t worry, once they calm down or what have you I’ll apologize and say being on the sea put me on edge or something. Hopefully no one will be treated ill because I’m Alexandrian.”

“You ain’t makin’ a lick of sense, Carl. What happened?” Cook leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Someone treatin’ you bad? I can give ‘em a talkin’ to for ye.”

Carl snorts inelegantly, pushing aside a perfectly cut peel and grabbing another potato. “Just a misunderstanding between myself and the boys in charge. Nothing to get yourself killed over.”

Feeling a bit curious if it’s all the pirates that don’t realize, Carl shifts a little uncertainly. “How long have you been going to Alexandria, would you say?”

Cook hums and gives a shrug, scratching at his beard. “Dunno. I joined up just a few years ago,” he says. “In my time onboard we’ve probably been about… twice a year? I don’t normally leave the boat for quick stops like that. Got some good lamb from that place though, I ‘member that.”

Carl nods evenly. He knows that gloves are more of a fashion accessory in England, and most other places they’re kept to the winter. It may very well only be an Alexandrian custom.

“I see, that makes sense,” he says more to himself than Cook. “Like I said, I’ll apologize when I see them again, hopefully our little misunderstanding is nothing to worry about.”

At least not for Negan and Dwight.

Cook hums low and looks Carl over, eyes scrutinizing every amount of bare skin he can see, suddenly wary for another reason. “Hey, they ain’t hurtin’ you none, are they? I know the Cap’n can be a bit of a talker, whole ship knows he’s a flirt ‘n’ a whore, but I ain’t ‘member ever hearing about anythin’ unsavory ‘bout him behind closed doors.”

Carl’s eyes bulge as he turns his gaze away from the potato, peeling knife jerking and shoving against his opposite hand. He hisses, putting both the potato and the knife down to shove his palm over the cut. He’s been flipping blades for years and a damn kitchen knife is what cuts him.

“Woah, there! Here.” Grabbing a clean towel, Cook comes over and presses it into Carl’s hand, holding it tight against the cut.

“No,” Carl says, half distracted. “No, they aren’t hurting me. Just you know, accidentally proposing to me and not knowing it.” He grimaces and looks between his bloody hand and Cook. “Forget I said that. I need to go clean this up. Apologies for leaving the job unfinished.”

“Aye, you’re alright, Carl. Go on then. Get yourself right.” Cook smiles and pats Carl’s head, shooing him out of the kitchen before he gets blood on anything.

He sighs and rubs at his face. Hopefully Carl’s mess with the captain and first mate gets cleaned up too. He’s got money riding on them working out.

~

Carl makes his way back on deck, frowning at his own idiocy. He’s not even stuck that bad, but he’s bleeding like a pig for some reason. He turns immediately to the brig and shuffles his way down to clean his wound and bandage it with something better than a kitchen rag.

Sighing, Carl thinks maybe he should have just spent all day in the cage. Life was simpler in there, that’s for sure.

Unfortunately life is never simple, so Carl abandons the safety of the brig and makes his way back to the galley. He tries to keep his eyes away from his hand, because now half wrapped in thin, clean bandages it almost seems like he has a part of his gloves back.

The dinner line goes as usual, the day crew filing through getting their food and drink. It’s just waning down when suddenly there’s a bit of a commotion at the door. A familiar shock of red and black can be seen moving through the crowd, though he’s stopped every few steps by a crew member asking what he’s doing down there.

“I can get my own dinner some days!” Negan laughs, waving them off, until he comes face to face with Carl behind the serving counter. The edges of his mouth go sharp as his smile falls slightly.

“Evenin’,” he says, giving Carl a nod. If he notices the way Cook is looking at him, he doesn’t mention it.

“Good evening,” Carl says politely. He piles two bowls of food and two mugs of ale on the tray and pushes it across the serving table to the captain. Both bowls are put together almost artistically rather than just slapped together, implying a level of care that doesn’t match the way Carl immediately sets to working on other crew servings.

Negan looks at the two servings for a moment before back up to Carl. “I think you forgot one,” he says, trying to sound lighthearted and more just sounding slightly desperate. He does want Carl to eat with them, to be with them so they can work things out, but he gets it if Carl still needs time.

“I think Master Dwight still needs some time,” Carl says, carefully lowering his voice. Considering he hasn’t seen the first mate on deck at all since this morning, it’s the best decision he thinks he can make.

Negan sighs and nods. “He’s mighty shook up,” he says, leaning in slightly towards Carl. “His heart is more tender than mine. That’s not to say I don’t feel the same, but, well…” He looks away, rubbing at his face, trying to find the words instead of the humor he usually deflects in. “That is to say, I do apologize for my actions last night.”

Carl swallows, waving a hand faux-casually. “No it’s… It’s a silly Alexandrian thing, don’t apologize. I’m sorry, and I’ll tell him the same when he’s ready to see me again.” Carl pushes the tray towards Negan a little more. “I’m sure he would appreciate your company though.”

“Alright. Alright. I can take a hint.” Negan laughs softly, taking the tray, though he gives Carl a soft smile and tilt of his head. “I’m sure he’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep. Don’t worry too much.”

Negan gives Carl a nod before heading off, working his way back through the crew with his dinner in hand.

Appearing beside Carl, Cook gives a low whistle as he watches Negan walk away. “Damn, kiddo. Got the cap’n wrapped tight ‘round your finger, eh?”

Carl puffs out a breath squinting at Cook in a soft, half glare. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it ain’t,” Cook says with a laugh.

Carl finishes dishing up for the crew and grabs his own bowl. Settling on the counter next to Cook so they can eat.

With a nod of approval, Cook digs into his food, leaning next to Carl. “Did a good job with these veggies. Can’t even taste the blood,” he says with a chuckle, eyeing the bandage on Carl’s hand.

“I find it advances the flavor anyhow,” Carl snarks, spearing the soft vegetables on his fork.

Cook laughs and takes another bite, contemplating his food and his words. “You say it’s not like that with the Cap’n ‘n’ ‘em, but I don’t think I ever seen the Cap’n lookin’ so contrite. He apologized.” Cook lets out an impressed whistle.

“I’m new and exciting. They will be tired of me soon enough,” Carl says, not looking away from his food.

“Nah, nah.” Cook shakes his head. “You ain’t hearin’ me, kiddo.” He points his fork at Carl. “I’ve been here long enough to see what it looks like when the Cap’n gets tired of people. He ain’t gettin’ tired of you. He would have already.”

Carl takes the last few bites of his food in quick succession. Turning to the wash tub, he sets the dishes down and starts to push up his sleeves again. “Never pegged you for the optimistic type, Cook.”

“Eh? I’m plenty optimistic!” Cook scoffs, finishing up his own meal before moving to stand beside Carl. He hands him a rag and puts him on drying duty so as not to get his bandages wet. “And, I’m just saying, I’ve seen the Cap’n have side flings, but I ain’t seen any of them eat dinner with him every night or get to go to the castle when we make port.” His eyebrows raise up at Carl.

Carl chews his bottom lip, drying one of the bowls thoroughly before reaching up and putting it in its proper place. “Believe it or not, Cook, you aren’t helping me feel better after upsetting them.”

“Aw, well.” Cook laughs softly, handing him another bowl. “I’m just saying… Don’t sell yourself short, kiddo.” He gives Carl a wet squeeze to his shoulder before focusing on the dishes.

Carl finishes helping Cook dry and put away the dishes in amiable silence. Finally done, he leaves his friend and troops up to the deck, eyeing the moon and the calm night.

He means to turn towards the brig, he really does. Only he turns toward the center mast instead, climbing his way up to the empty crows nest. Propping his arms on the rail, he sighs, looking out towards the sea.

Chapter 16

Summary:

Amends are made.

Notes:

R: This chapter is very fun I think. We get some emotional interactions and some flirting and some comedy~ All around good stuff.

 

“Oi, child. What’re you doin’ up ‘ere?” Poking Carl in his ribs, the barrelman grunts as he frowns at the sleeping boy. The sun is up, the new day begun. “Worried sick ‘bout chu down there.”

The poke has Carl waking and shifting immediately, barreling into a crouch and angling the point of his dagger at the crewman’s windpipe with a snarl.

Blinking away some of the sleep fog, Carl grimaces and pulls the dagger away, sheathing it and straightening from his crouch. “My apologies.”

“Jaysus, child. Jumpy much?” The barrelman doesn’t look too offended about the dagger to the throat, more just about Carl being in his spot. “Git now, ‘fore the Cap think you done jumped overboard.”

Carl sighs, rounding the barrelman and sliding halfway down the rope ladder to swing and jump down onto the deck. He peers up at the dawn sun wondering why anyone could be looking for him so early and then casts his gaze around the deck for Negan or Cook who must be looking for him.

Instead he finds Dwight, looking at him with a face of shock and relief from the quarter deck. Once he has eyes on Carl, his shoulders relax from where they were tensed up, and he hesitantly gives Carl a wave.

Everyone else seems to be going about their day normally, hardly giving Carl another glance after a nod or a, “Mornin’”.

“Good morning,” Carl says softly, almost hesitantly as he steps up to Dwight. He slides his tongue over his bottom lip and opens his mouth to say something only to falter before finally fumbling out an: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to make you think that I don’t care for you. I assure you, that is not what any of this was.”

“I’m sorry too,” Dwight says, leaning against the railing and looking down at his feet. “I should have asked permission before touching you in the first place.” He rubs at his arm, looking contrite.

“No I… I love it when you touch me,” Carl rushes to say and then he can feel his face flame. He glances away. “Would you believe me if I said I wish I hadn’t said anything?”

Dwight also goes red, a smile tugging at his lips. “I would like to believe that,” he says, looking up at Carl. “It’s okay to not want to be touched, though. Certain places, certain times. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Assume,” Carl says, before he can think about it much, he takes a step closer, looking up at the first mate. “Assume, please. If I’m bothered I’ll try to communicate it more gently.”

Dwight breathes a laugh, but nods. “Alright. I think I can do that.” He lifts a hand, hesitating for only a moment, before cupping Carl’s cheek gently. He runs his thumb under Carl’s eye, soaking in the soft skin and warmth.

“Good, yes, good.” Carl lifts his bandaged hand, pressing Dwight’s hand against his face and gently sweeping a thumb across the first mate’s knuckles. He revels in what he almost lost for a moment.

“Oh… What happened to your hand?” Dwight asks, eyeing the bandages. He wants to take Carl’s hand and examine it, but can’t seem to take it from his face now that he’s touching him again. “And… Why were you in the crow’s nest? I went to bring you breakfast this morning, but you weren’t in the brig.”

“Just a kitchen accident, not a big deal,” Carl says with a squeeze of his fingers. His eyes flick up towards the crows nest.

“It felt nice last night,” he tells the man instead of saying that if he went to the brig last night he would have spent another night in the cage.

Dwight hums, still looking concerned, but relaxing a bit. “Well then… I’m glad you’re safe and sound. It scared me something fierce when I couldn’t find you.”

“I assure you, Master Dwight,” Carl assures him softly, “not even I am fool enough to jump ship this far into the sea.”

“I should hope not,” Dwight says with a laugh, lifting his hand just to use it to tuck some of Carl’s hair behind his ear. “You hungry then? I left your breakfast in the captain’s quarters when I couldn’t find you.”

“Let’s go eat before Negan eats our portions out of spite,” Carl says laughing softly, giving Dwight’s wrist one last squeeze before letting him go.

“Oh, he wouldn’t,” Dwight says with a laugh, leading the way down the stairs and into the captain’s cabin.

Carl’s breakfast is sitting upon the desk, though the captain is not sat behind it. Negan is instead rifling through one of his dresser drawers and looks up in surprise when the two walk in.

“Ah! Found him, I see,” he says, abandoning his search to walk over and draw Carl into a sudden hug. “And it seems you two made up, considering you’re both here and not maimed.”

Carl buries his nose in Negan’s shirt, pressing practically his whole weight against the captain. He doesn’t know where the sudden need came from but he has a feeling it’s due to those two lovely nights where he had practically used the man as a blanket.

“Mhm,” Carl vocalizes, still half melted into the man before sighing and beginning to pull back. “Breakfast?”

“It’s on the table, darling,” Negan says, emotionally reeling from having Carl hug him back so fiercely. He’d really not expected it, but was pleasantly taken aback.

Giving in to desires, Negan lets Carl pull back but not before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Go eat. I’ll be over there in a moment. Lookin’ for something.”

Carl nods, moving over to lounge in his usual chair. He grabs his bowl of what seems to be nuts, oats, and sliced fruits and begins to dig in.

He eyes the first mate for a moment. “What would you have me do for the day, Master Dwight?”

Dwight sits in his chair beside Carl while Negan goes back to digging through his dresser, tossing clothes about. “If you’d like, there’s some ropes and sails that need mending. I know you did a good job on the ropes before,” Dwight says, picking up his own bowl and chomping into a large nut.

“I can mend,” Carl says offhandedly, gathering some of his breakfast between his fingers. “Can embroider, too, much to my mother’s disdain.”

“Well, what’s bad for her is good for us, eh?” Dwight smiles.

“Aha!”

Jumping slightly as Negan’s outburst, Dwight watches as the captain walks over, hiding something behind his back. He comes to lean against his desk directly in front of Carl.

“I have something for you,” he says, excitement and nervousness playing out over his face. “I feel like this can go very good or very bad, so please promise not to kill me if I’m wrong about this.”

“I promise to only stab you a little bit,” Carl says jokingly before he can stop himself. He clamps his mouth shut right after and sets his bowl aside, giving the man his full attention.

“My apologies,” he says, gesturing with his hand towards Negan. “Please, show me. I promise I will hold my emotions.”

Negan breathes a laugh. “Okay, so, I was thinking about what you said last night in the galley, about the misunderstanding being a ‘silly Alexandrian thing’. I was thinking and thinking about what it could have meant, when it finally hit me. I noticed on a couple visits a lot of the folks there wear gloves, and on one trip I picked some up.”

Negan brings out a pair of dark brown leather gloves from behind his back, offering them to Carl.

Sadness hits Carl like a six horse carriage, and he reaches out to pet along the gloves in Negan’s hand. They’re not a thing like his lovely sets of thin gloves that he embroidered himself in gold and blue.

“Thank you.” He draws his hand back without taking them, eyes moving up to meet Negan's gaze. “It's a lovely thought, but I can’t. Even if it wasn’t my choice to take my gloves off, I cannot put them back on until married or widowed.”

“Ah… Okay. I see.” Negan nods, biting his lip and looking awkward now just holding the gloves. “I was afraid there would be something like that.” He sighs.

“What do you mean it wasn’t your choice to take them off?” Dwight asks gently. “If I’m allowed to ask that.”

“My mother made me take them off,” Carl says, not meeting the other men's eyes as he picks up his bowl to finish eating. “She wanted me to marry and take her to London.”

“Sounds like your mother is a right-”

“Negan.”

“Sorry.” Sighing deeply, Negan reaches out to place his hand atop Carl’s head. “Look, I’ll have these in here if you ever want them, okay? They’re good work quality, don’t gotta mean anything more than protecting your hands while you mend ropes or scrape barnacles. Just…” He shrugs and pets down Carl’s soft hair. “Just so you know, okay?”

“Just so I know,” Carl agrees, tapping his many rings against the metal bowl in his hand.

“Good.” Negan moves to put the gloves away in the dresser again, picking up all the other clothes he threw out of the way.

“So… Gloves signify wedded status, like a wedding ring?” Dwight asks, trying to figure out the intricacies of Carl’s culture. He’d told Dwight about how important their hands were, but nothing about the gloves.

“No,” Carl shakes his head. “We use wedding rings, same as anyone else if they can be afforded.”

He scrounges the rest of the oats and fruits into one part of the bowl. “You take your gloves off when you are ready to marry and some people choose to have matching gloves when they marry because your hands are a very intimate part of you meant to be shared with those closest to you.”

He’s gotten more used to touch in the last few months but someone kissing his hands is much different. He pours the rest of the mixture into his mouth to finish off his breakfast.

“Interesting,” Dwight says, munching on a piece of fruit contemplatively.

Negan makes his way to his chair once he’s done, plopping into it with a sigh. “Well, I tried.” He rubs at his hair and looks off to the side. “If there’s ever anything we can do, or anything we do that we shouldn’t, let us know, okay? This was a lesson for all of us, I suppose.”

“Just… perhaps attempt to not go proposing marriage to people who tried to kill you less than a monocycle ago,” Carl mumbles, reaching out to exchange his bowl for one of the small mugs of what looks like juice to wash it down.

“Do you have any other ways of proposing marriage we should know about?” Negan asks, leaning onto his desk with a grin. “I prefer the getting down on one knee and asking method. Preferably with a ring.”

Dwight snorts and rolls his eyes. “Just ignore him if you want, Carl.”

“Just those two,” Carl says after finishing chugging down his drink and putting the empty cup in his empty bowl. He leans back in his chair, keeping himself there rather than running off to mend sails or… doing something terrible like climbing into one of their laps and letting himself stay there.

“It’s nice having you two here in the day,” Negan says after a moment, just looking between the two with affection. “Get to see your pretty faces in the sunlight.”

Dwight rolls his eyes again but blushes softly, smiling as he continues eating.

“Maybe we should do breakfast and dinner together, huh?”

“I have no objections,” Carl says, pressing his fingers into the weird crick in his neck that he got from sleeping in the cramped space of the crows nest. He would definitely do better on the floor of the cage or in his hammock tonight.

“Good! Come on by in the mornings then. I think that will be nice,” Negan says with a grin. “Or, just spend the night here and you’ll already be here in the morning, eh?”

“Some nights,” Carl agrees almost amiably. He drags his teeth along his bottom lip for a moment before deciding to voice his thoughts because part of their issues have been unvoiced thoughts, and he isn’t ready to argue all over again. “You two have been together for a while, and I like the assurance that you’ll have time together without me,” he explains briefly. “Especially with there being things I’m not so ready for.”

Dwight smiles and reaches out to touch Carl’s arm, moved by the words. “You are too kind, thinking like that,” he says. “Do not be intimidated by our relationship or the things you are not ready for. You’ve seen how good Negan can be when you tell him no.”

Negan nods quickly, like an excited puppy getting praise.

“Truthfully, there are many nights that I don’t crave anything more than sleep. I even have my own bunk below that I frequent when I need my space,” Dwight explains.

Negan hums. “Lonely nights for me, of course, but I understand that I can be a bit… overwhelming.”

“All people are overwhelming,” Carl emphasizes with a shrug. “I just need to know that the two of you won’t be so concerned about the possibility of hurting my feelings that you don’t request the space or time you need.”

Feeling a bit transparent, Carl holds back a grimace and crosses his ankles to have something to focus on. “I do quite like the brig after all.”

“I don’t think Negan would ever be alone if it was an option,” Dwight says.

“Correct.” Negan leans back in his chair, raising his hands up behind his head. “Even if we were on other sides of the room, I enjoy having another presence with me at any time I can.”

“I think interaction with people gives you more energy while it just drains mine.” Dwight laughs softly.

Negan shrugs. “I just don’t like being alone, but I understand that most other people do, so…”

“Well, you can always come visit in the brig,” Carl says simply. “It is yours after all.” He gives a sneaky grin to the captain. “Worst I can do is lock you in the cages for an hour.”

Negan groans and leans forward again, hands falling to his desk and sliding like he’s grabbing for Carl and just can’t reach him. “Oh, kid, don’t fuckin’ tempt me with a good time! Woo!” His grin is playful, though his eyes shine hungry.

Carl snorts softly, reaching out to grasp one of the man’s reaching hands and squeeze it. “Down boy,” he jokes.

Negan groans again, squeezing Carl’s hand back. “Fuck, Carl. Keep talking like that and no part of me will be down. Goddamn. Woof.” He tugs on Carl gently, more just trying to let his energy out through his hold than to pull Carl anywhere.

Carl lets himself be tugged a little, leaning forward against the desk and angling his head towards the man. “Be good, we have things to do.”

Negan bites his lip and moans softly, tilting his head to look into Carl’s eyes. He wonders if the thump-thump-thump of his heart beating against his desk can be heard by anyone else but him.

“You’ll stay tonight, yes?” he asks softly, wetting his lip with the tip of his tongue and holding back from pressing a kiss to Carl’s hand the way he so desperately wants. “Please?”

“Of course,” Carl nods, before dipping his head to press a firm kiss against the captain’s mouth. When he pulls back, he squeezes the man’s hand again and stands up, leaving Negan to melt into a puddle on his desk.

“For now though, I have sails to tend to,” Carl tells him, grabbing his dishes and bending to press a kiss to Dwight’s mouth as well, only to hesitate not knowing if they’re well enough for that again. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and glances at the door. “Come show me?”

Dwight tugs on the front of Carl’s shirt to bring him down into the kiss, smiling as they part. “Of course.”

He stands and gives Negan a scritch on the head where it rests forlornly against his desk. “I think you also have things you should be doing.”

“Ugh… Give me ten minutes to cool my head. Both of ‘em,” Negan mumbles into the wood, waving a hand loosely.

Dwight just breathes a laugh and turns to follow Carl out.

Carl prides himself on the fact that his face isn’t absolutely on fire when he makes his way on deck. Taking Dwight’s bowl and mug from him, he twitches his head towards the galley.

“I’ll drop these off and meet you by the sails,” he offers the first mate. “I’m hoping you have a kit you want me to use as the one I have is for clothes mending and embroidery.”

“Yes, we have something. I’ll get it ready for you.” With one last pet of his hand down Carl’s hair, Dwight shoos him off to the galley and makes his way to find the kit for the busted sail.

Carl ends up muttering meal plans for dinner with Cook while he’s in the kitchen, waylaying him for a few minutes. He hurries back on deck with a grimace once he realizes, flashing Dwight an apologetic look as he makes his way over to the first mate. “I got distracted, my apologies.”

“That’s alright. Gave me time to get everything out.” Dwight shows where he’s got a box of tools set next to a pile of ropes and sails, the tears in the fabric plainly visible. “Should have all you need here, but if anything is missing, let me know.”

“Will do,” Carl says, already curling himself on the ground and pushing up his sleeves to get to work. If everything goes well he should have more than enough time to finish and help Cook in the galley once again.

Dwight gives Carl a smile and then heads off to do his own checks on things, knowing Carl will be fine to work by himself and would probably prefer it.

~

Carl works throughout the day cutting and rebinding ropes, mending sails, and folding and raveling everything up at the end to deposit them in their correct places. It’s always a good day when he gets to spend time under the sun doing something mindless, and by the time he hops down the stairs to assist Cook with dinner, he’s in a far better mood than he was the day before.

It must be noticeable, or contagious, because even Cook is smiling after getting a look at him.

They dish out dinner, as is the routine, before Cook passes Carl a tray with three bowls and three mugs. “Can I assume yer welcome in the Cap’n’s cabin again?”

“The way he tells it, I was welcome the whole time,” Carl says off-handedly as he accepts their usual tray, “not that it’s any of your business.”

Cook snorts and waves him off with a wink.

He leaves Cook with a fond look as he makes his way out onto the deck and about-faces to the captain’s cabin. It’s not too hard to press the tray down against the handle and slip inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

The room seems empty at first until movement off to the side reveals Negan digging through his drawers again, shirtless this time. He looks up as Carl enters and smiles. “Heya. Give me a second while I find a shirt. Spilled ink on the one I was wearing.” There’s a splotch of black staining his skin near his hip, though it almost blends in with the other tattoos littering his skin.

“I hope it was at least black,” Carl says, settling the tray on the desk and trying not to obviously leer. “I don’t know why you’re bothering,” he continues, unloading the tray to their usual spots, “you’ll be going to bed soon anyhow.”

“Yeh, but eating without a shirt feels… weird,” Negan says with a laugh, finally plucking up a large black shirt and slipping it on. It’s hardly a shirt really, with how deep the collar is cut, but it’s enough.

Making his way to his desk, he stops near Carl and lets his hand reach out to card through the ends of Carl’s hair. “Can’t wait to have you in my bed tonight. We just sleepin’?”

Carl makes a valiant effort not to tense at the idea of more right now, right after they’ve all just made up again. “Just sleep, if that’s alright with you.”

Part of him had been almost excited at the prospect of having at least one of the two men pressed against him in bed, but even the promise of that won’t keep him here if it’s more that Negan wants tonight.

“That’s fine, darling. I just like to ask,” Negan says, smiling and twirling a lock of Carl’s hair around his finger. He tugs on it playfully, not hard at all. “One of these days you’ll say you want more, and I won’t know what to do with myself.” He chuckles softly, eyes drinking in all of Carl that he can. He can’t touch like he wants, but damn it, he can look.

Carl turns his body more towards the man, bowing slightly at the waist and gesturing vaguely with a free hand. “I live to serve.”

His eyes flick briefly to the third place setting. “Is Master Dwight not joining us?”

“He’ll be along shortly. Got caught up in some drama with the helmsman and Arat.” Negan waves his hand dismissively through the air, making his way around the desk to his own chair and looking over the dinner in his bowl. “Looks good. You’ve been helping Cook, right?”

“For lack of any other orders,” Carl answers before Negan’s former statement catches up with him and he stiffens, voice going steely. “What do you mean by drama?”

“Nothing too bad,” Negan assures, taking a drink from his mug. “Peter, the helmsman, just got a little jumpy when Arat said something. I think he may have taken her tone as threatening? She might have also been threatening him. I’m not too sure on the details, but it should be all smoothed out now. Think Dwight is just making sure everything is copacetic before lights out.”

Carl nods, slightly, still frowning. He doesn’t like the idea that the crewmember he vouched for could be being hassled. “If there’s any problems they can always spend a night in my cages, after the last men who went down there with me that should be warning enough.”

Negan snorts softly and nods. “I’ll remember it.”

Just then, the door opens and Dwight steps in, sighing as he shuts the door behind him. “Well, that’s taken care of,” he says, rubbing at his face with a groan. He settles into his chair heavy, letting his head tip back. “The next time Arat tries to gesture with her knife, you can deal with it.”

“I will,” Carl says succinctly, finally allowing himself to sit now that both of his pirates are here. “Perhaps I’ll even do some gesturing with my knife.”

“I was talking to Negan, but thank you, lad. Sure she’d listen to you more anyway,” Dwight says.

“Honestly, yeah.” Negan snorts, picking up his bowl and starting in on his dinner. “Though, other than this, everyone has been pretty settled. Think a bit of boredom must have set in. We’ll have to find something to liven up the crew.”

Carl had more meant that he would join Arat in her knife waving but he’ll keep quiet about it for now. He pulls his own bowl towards him, going immediately for one of the smoked eggs with his spoon. “I forget that pirates don’t actually appreciate a calm, eventless existence.” He gestures vaguely around them. “This has all been so nice I find it almost odd that they would be bored.”

“Yes, well. It usually doesn’t start so soon, so who knows.” Negan shrugs. “But entertainment is good nonetheless.”

“A few men have been playing dice and cards in the barracks,” Dwight says, sitting up to take his own dinner in hand. “They’d surely find it entertaining if the captain joined for a game.”

“Hmm. Suppose I could.”

Gambling is most certainly not Carl’s thing and therefore he puts most of his focus into his food. He can’t be blamed that his mind wanders a bit, thinking of the enjoyable days he’s had lately, even with the abrupt change in his life and the now multiple misunderstandings they’ve been a part of. Carl has had more good days with these men in the last month than he’s had with his family in over a year.

He’s half through his bowl and has already eaten both his smoked eggs by the time he realizes he should be paying attention to the conversation. Only when he checks back in he can only really think of how tonight he finally gets to lay in bed with them again and just feel their bodies curled around them.

He clears his throat softly, ignoring the heat in his ears. “Did you manage to ask Arat and Peter how the time is going in our heading?”

“We’re on schedule,” Dwight says, tapping his spoon to his lips. “The weather’s been in our favor, luckily. It’ll still be a few weeks before we are anywhere close though.”

Carl nods, pawing together the remainder of his dinner. “Gives Negan time to figure out what exactly it is we’re chasing, perhaps.”

Negan hums. “I might steal you for a day to help with that,” he says. “You seem to know these myths and the stars better than I do. We could go over some of the books I borrowed from Ezekiel.” He sets down his empty bowl, settling back in his chair, hands linked over his belly.

Carl shakes his head slightly, pushing away his empty bowl and grabbing his mug to sip on. “I told you pretty much all I know. I could have even been wrong. If I had to guess based on what I know, we could be looking for the crashed chariot of Helios or even Pandora’s box.”

He mulls both over as he savors some of his grog. “To be honest with you, I don’t understand why a pirate would want either.”

“Then you obviously don’t know that many pirates,” Negan says with a grin.

“Pandora’s box?” Dwight frowns softly. “Isn’t the myth for that bad? Like it let out curses or something?”

“If the myth is to be believed,” Carl points out, ignoring Negan’s first statement because it is obvious, “all that should be left within it is hope.”

“Hope?” Dwight tilts his head, finally setting down his bowl and taking up the last of his drink. He feels like he needs it for this conversation. “Hope for what?”

“Just hope,” Carl says simply. He sips his grog. “When Pandora opened the box she released all the evils into the world, but she closed the lid before hope could also escape.”

He taps his many rings against the mug in his hand. “I suppose my assumption would be that the box either protects hope from the evils or the world would be a better place if hope were released. Though, I don’t know how much stock I would put in a myth.”

The pirates are quiet for a moment, thinking over Carl’s words. It’s a bit more than just treasure they could be heading towards.

“So… Say we actually found a box,” Dwight says. “If it’s the case of keeping hope protected, then we shouldn’t open it.”

“But if it’d make the world better to have it, then we should.” Negan taps his fingers together, bringing the points to his lips.

“There’s no way to know which it is, is there? The myths are all a little different. Nothing is set in stone.” Dwight sighs.

“On one hand, the world could get better,” Carl reiterates, “but on the other it could get worse.” He drains the last of his grog. “Who knows, perhaps there will be a way to ask. Or maybe, we won’t be after the box at all.”

“Have hope, kid!” Negan says with a laugh. “Whatever we find, it’ll be an adventure nonetheless.”

Carl snorts softly, leaning up to start stacking dishes on the tray. “I think you’re hopeful enough for the both of us.”

His eyes slip over to Dwight, who still looks exhausted from his time mediating. “You staying?”

“I suppose,” Dwight says, smiling softly. “Unless you’d prefer Negan to yourself tonight?”

“I’m greedy,” Carl says, scraping his rings against the side of the tray for emphasis before hefting it up. “I’ll be right back, hm?”

“We’ll be here.”

When Carl returns, sans tray, Negan and Dwight have changed clothes. Well, more or less. Negan has removed clothes and Dwight has switched his shirt for the one Negan had been wearing. It had been loose on Negan, and now Dwight is swimming in it. The luxury of abundant clean clothes was lost when they left The Kingdom, but it seems they’ve got some habits that are hard to break.

Carl goes over to his usual chair, stripping off jewelry, sword belts, boots, and his vest. Once again he has his sheathed dagger in hand when he turns towards the men and the bed.

There being no headboard, he plans to slip it under whatever pillow he’s using. “Where do you want me?”

Negan smiles and goes to Carl, placing a hand on his back and leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “You look so soft without all your stuff on,” he says quietly, guiding Carl towards the bed. Dwight has already crawled in and is lying down as far over as he can, pressed into the wall. The bed is not as big as the one in The Kingdom by any means, but they’ll fit, especially if Negan ends up on top, as he’s prone to do.

“Careful now, soft doesn’t always mean safe,” Carl points out. It would almost be a threat if he wasn’t smiling so indulgently.

“Don’t I know it.”

Carl slips his dagger under the middle pillow, checking once more that Negan will have enough cover if he lies on top of them before sliding onto the bed. He presses practically right up against Dwight, wiggling into his usual sleeping position and sighing contentedly.

Dwight throws his arm around Carl, nuzzling his face into Carl’s shoulder. “Mm, ‘s nice having you here.”

Negan blows out a few candles and lanterns before slipping into the other side of the bed. He runs his hand down Dwight’s arm that’s over Carl and sighs happily. He tucks some of Dwight’s blond hair behind his ear at the same time that he presses a kiss to Carl’s cheek. “Sleep well, my dears.”

“Goodnight,” Carl murmurs, already warm and fuzzy inside over being pressed between the two men. He’s sure he falls asleep even quicker than usual.

Chapter 17

Summary:

An exciting day of plundering leads to an exciting night of… /plundering/.

Notes:

R: and so begins the smut! ;3 Enjoy!

 

A few days pass before there’s a shout from the crows nest.

“Ship ho! Off the port side!”

It’s a small thing, flying no colors. “Merchants, most likely,” Negan says, looking through his spyglass. “Riding low with cargo.”

“What do you wanna do, Captain?” Peter asks, hands on the wheel, ready to follow orders.

Looking out over his crew, Negan can see the expectant faces. Excitement, hope, something to kill the monotony of the days. He smiles and addresses them. “Who here thinks we haven’t had a good plunderin’ in a long while?”

The crew shout in eagerness, whooping and hollering.

Negan grins and looks back at Peter. “You heard ‘em. Take us over. Let’s see what they’re selling.”

Carl shuffles giddily over to the grapples, making sure they’re untangled and prepared for use even though he’d just recently tended to them. The prospect of a good old fashioned pirate raid, when not performed on his home town, seems doubly exciting.

When he knows the crew will be safe to use the grapples, he bounces his way over to Dwight who is closer than the captain. “What would you have me do to assist?”

“Just be careful and watch your footing for now,” Dwight says with a soft laugh at how excited Carl seems. He thought the boy might have some reservations about this, but apparently not. “Don’t need you slipping into the ocean when we board. Have your sword ready if they try to fight. We normally don’t try killing anybody if they’re not deserving of it.”

Carl pouts more than a little performatively before his grin breaks it up. “Aye aye,” he intones with a playful bow, stepping back to clear the way, hand already on his sword hilt.

Dwight laughs again, shaking his head. Ah, youth.

As the ships draw closer to each other, it’s easier to see the fear growing in the merchant’s eyes. The way the pirates yell and jeer probably isn’t helping. Their ship only has one cannon per side, and it looks like they’re trying desperately to get it into motion, but are fumbling and unused to it.

First time running into trouble, Negan thinks with a grin. “Ready the cannons, but aim high. We’ll hit their masts and sails before the body. Don’t want to damage anything they may be hauling.”

Carl is, quite possibly, far too giddy for this. His parents would be appalled at the way he giggles, popping one of the casks of gunpowder open to help Laura ready one of the canons.

“Bet you a rose soap you can’t hit their center mast,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, mostly hidden.

“You’re so on, kid.” Laura is already diving forward to get one of the canon balls into the canon before she even accepts the challenge.

The merchant ship manages to fire first, but their aim is off, the ball hitting nothing but water. Negan has his crew hold fire until they curve around the merchant boat. Coming up from behind and out the other side, causing the merchants to scramble to their starboard, Negan raises his sword into the air. “Fire!”

Laura’s cannon screams as it releases its ball, smoke and fire plooming out into the air as the ball goes careening into the center mast of the merchant ship. She lets out a whoop of joy, making grabby hands at Carl as he passes over the gunpowder cask again.

“You’ve just earned yourself a rose soap,” Carl says, winking at the woman.

Laura rolls her eyes fondly. “Like you wouldn’t have given me one anyway.” She dives for another cannon ball. “I’m taking that mast down and getting Ratty one too!”

Carl can’t help but laugh.

“Hold!” comes Negan’s order over the smoke and the sound of splintering wood. He gauges the reactions from the merchant’s, can see them still trying to load their cannon again. Fighters, eh?

“One more time, then board! Fire!”

Carl crams his hands over his ears once more as Laura aims and lights her canon with a manic laugh. The shot is just as debilitating as last time, shattering the wood of the merchant ship’s mast.

Carl grabs from the nearest grapple when it’s done with, throwing it across to hook on the bannister of the other ship. He’s still tying their end down when Laura throws herself onto the line, balancing shakily before diving across into the chaos of the other ship. Carl keeps himself to their deck as he’s been told, keeping his eyes on the other grapples to make sure their crew can get back over safely.

Swords clang and clash as the merchants defend themselves. They’re easily outnumbered by the crew of the Lucille, but they’re putting up a good fight.

Negan drops down onto the deck next to Carl and grins at him. “You coming?” he says, gesturing to the merchant boat as he grabs a line and makes his way aboard with a loud whoop.

Carl laughs softly but stays aboard Lucille both wanting to make sure no one can get trapped on the other ship and to assuage any worries Dwight might have over this being his first raid. He’s always been more of a defensive fighter anyhow and he wants to keep an eye on Negan who technically shouldn’t be doing this considering his shoulder.

“Lord, he’s an idiot,” Dwight says as he steps up beside Carl, watching Negan twirl about on the opposing deck, pushing back the merchants who come at him. There’s already a few surrendering, throwing the hands up and begging for mercy from the pirates, even while others fight on. It’s the difference of who’s willing to live and die.

“It says more about us that we like him so much,” Carl comments easily. He makes his way over to where the gangplank is stored so they can lay it across to the other ship when given the signal.

“Unfortunately,” Dwight says with a snort, following Carl to help him.

The fighting clangs out for a few minutes more, feeling like hours with the adrenaline pumping. There’s a loud crack as another damaged mast gives way and topples into the water, finally causing the merchant captain to throw down his weapon. He knows that if they want to make it anywhere alive, they’ll need the time to repair rather than fight.

The pirates cheer before Negan sections crew off, assigning some to move the survivors off to the side and the rest to start raiding the storage. He looks up at Carl and Dwight, giving the signal to drop the plank.

Carl helps Dwight drop the gangplank over, stabilizing it and latching it down quickly. He takes a step back, eyeing the other ship. “What do you think they’re running anyhow? Spices? Fabric?”

There’s a shout from someone who comes running out from the belly of the ship, a bottle of drink in each hand as they run to show Negan.

Dwight raises his eyebrows and laughs. “Looks like there’s going to be drinks to go around. Probably spices too.” He nudges Carl gently. “Why don’t you go over and see for yourself?”

Carl doesn’t need any other encouragement before he’s stepping nimbly across the gangplank to the other ship. While the pirates are focused on the rum barrels, he joins Laura in going through the merchant’s personal items.

“Oh, how lovely,” he hums, pulling a square of satin bronzy fabric from one of the packs in the bunk room. He reaches up, tying the fabric around his head like a bandana for lack of a better option and glances at his partner in crime for approval. Laura just rolls her eyes at him, shoving half her body into one of the little compartments further down to dig through it.

Out on the deck, the merchant captain is moaning about how indecent it is to be robbed from. “Take me goods and supplies, fine. But stealin’ a man’s personal effects while he’s beaten…” He shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

“Could be worse,” Negan says, sidling up to him and making him jump. “We could be leavin’ ya with nothing, but we’re not that cruel. You’ll have enough to get back to land and lick your wounds.” Negan grins and pushes the man’s hat down over his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Carl and Laura prance out of the cabins with their own haul, the boy bouncing up to Negan with a soft grin and an ornate box in hand. It’s full of expensive, colorful quills with metal tips and he holds it right out to Negan. “For your logs?”

“Oh!” Negan’s eyes go wide as he takes in the beautiful quill pens. “These are wonderful! Thank you, Carl. I’m honored you thought of me. You’ll put them in my office for me, yes?” Negan grins and pats Carl’s head, taking in the new fabric wrapped there. “And, my. Look at this! You’ve got quite the haul.”

“Laura stole a letter opener,” Carl adds with a soft smile, watching the woman threaten one of the merchants with the ornate blade.

“I see that,” Negan says with a laugh.

Carl leaves the captain on the merchant ship, making his way over to Dwight. He pulls a thin book out of his vest and proffers it to the first mate. “Laura pointed this out for you, apparently it’s a copy of the diary of some famous inventor.”

“Oh?” Dwight takes the book with a pleased smile. “How interesting. I’ll enjoy giving this a look over. Thank you.” Dwight touches Carl’s face warmly, thinking it quite funny that he’s giving out stolen goods as gifts so happily. Carl is taking on the pirate lifestyle like a fish to water.

“Of course,” Carl says, pleased, making his way past the man to drop the quills off in the captain's cabin before he can move to help Cook make room for any rum or spices that are going to be stored rather than used immediately.

The crew is efficient in their raid, nabbing what they want quickly and heading back to The Lucille. It’s not long before they detach from the merchants and wave goodbye to the broken ship.

“Good work, people!” Negan calls out, making his way up to the helm and giving a rousing celebratory speech. The crew cheers their good fortune and luck, morale high into the sky.

Carl hands over the rose soap and one of his thyme soaps to Laura for a job well done with the masts, grinning all the while as he weaves between the merriment.

It seems, based on Negan’s jovial speech, that some of the rum they’ve pilfered from the merchant ship will fill bellies rather than going to storage. So, in the interest of no one getting too drunk they fall off the ship, Carl sneaks down to the galley to make something filling with Cook.

Dinner is served to a crew in good spirits, inhibitions lowered, and surely with no thoughts of work getting done tomorrow. Even Negan is more gay than usual, spending time playing games in the galley with the crew before Dwight comes to fetches him.

“I’ll help this oaf to the cabin if you carry the food?” Dwight asks Carl as they approach, adjusting a laughing Negan on his shoulder. Dwight’s a little pink in the cheeks from imbibing as well, but is still stable it seems.

Carl almost bursts into a fit of giggles at the sight of the two men, his own face flush and his body feeling practically liquid. Perhaps he shouldn’t have allowed himself to drink with Cook while they prepared dinner, but he finds that he’s at least steady enough to carry the tray after them if he watches his feet when he walks.

“I might be a bad influence,” he mumbles around a snigger, following them closely. “Cook is drunk.”

“Oh, my,” Dwight says around a laugh of his own, getting the door handle on the cabin and waving Carl in first. “To be fair, he is easily pressured.”

“He knows how to have a good time is all!” Negan says, trying to nuzzle into Dwight’s neck while he’s also being pushed and pulled into his cabin and then into his chair. Dwight tries to slap away Negan’s grabby hands from near his hips, but isn’t fast enough to avoid being pulled into Negan’s lap.

“I guess this is my spot tonight,” Dwight sighs, running a hand through Negan’s hair.

Carl can’t help but take them in, Negan wrapping himself around the slighter man and hooking his chin over Dwight’s shoulder. It’s a lovely image. “Good spot to be.”

He unloads the food onto the desk, pushing two servings and some watered down ale over to the pirates. Flopping into his own seat, he hums happily, kicking his feet up on the corner of the desk since he doesn’t exactly have the self control to stop himself. He gathers his own bowl, scooping up potatoes and gravy with relish.

Dwight reaches to take up both bowls, holding one under Negan’s nose. “You gonna eat, or do I have to feed you?”

Negan opens his mouth expectantly.

Dwight rolls his eyes and sets one bowl down in his lap, lifting a spoonful from the other into Negan’s mouth. The captain hums in pleasure, chewing the delicious food.

“This is some good shit. Mm.”

Carl hums his agreement, scooping up some of the beef. The heavily salted nature of it isn’t a bother in this meal, in fact it’s actually a boon. Either that or the drink has finally gotten to him.

“I am so glad we had the spices to make gravy,” Carl mumbles between bites.

“Mm, yes. Delightful.” Dwight eats a bite himself before feeding another to Negan. He goes back and forth until the first bowl is done, setting it aside to pick up the second. “Did you have fun today, Carl?” he asks. “You seemed very in your element.”

Carl thinks, with the hazy reality of being at least a little buzzed, that he was much more in his element when he was in that cage, murdering Negan’s boys. There’s a darkness in him, he knows, one he tries desperately not to think about.

He smiles at them, half hazy. “Was a good day, but I don’t think I liked it any more than any other good days on the ship.”

“Aw, come on! I saw you comin’ outta that cabin with your spoils!” Negan says, squeezing Dwight in his arms and laughing. “You were so fucking happy! Having the time of your life, you were! It was so cute. Goddamnit, he’s so cute, Dwight.”

“That he is, dear.” Dwight smiles, looking at Carl. He takes in the way the boy looks so relaxed with his feet up, remembering the smile on his face when he’d given Dwight the book. “Cutest pirate I’ve ever seen.”

Carl can’t help but roll his eyes a little, not truly annoyed but definitely exasperated. He grabs his own ale, tugging it over to him and taking a deep swig. “‘S just stuff. I can take stuff anywhere.” He shrugs. “Mostly I liked seein’ the crew having fun.”

“Mm, they sure had fun too,” Negan says, turning his head to bury his face in near Dwight’s neck, pressing kisses there and under his jaw.

Dwight hums softly, tilting his head back a bit to give him more room. “Are you done with dinner, Captain?”

“Mhm.” Negan nips at the bottom of Dwight’s ear, making him gasp softly. “Want dessert now.”

Carl quiets, eyes glued to the men. It’s a good view, Dwight all flushed in Negan’s lap with the captain’s mouth against his neck. It’s certainly a lead up to something else and Carl should leave.

He doesn’t. Opens his mouth to offer, then snaps it back shut. He admires the line of Dwight’s bared throat instead, wonders how it feels to have Negan’s teeth and facial hair scraping against it like that.

The empty bowl seems heavy in his hands.

With one hand sturdy on Dwight’s hip to hold him in place, Negan’s other hand runs over his thigh and up to his chest, just feeling Dwight’s body through his clothes and drawing soft noises out of him. Dwight rests a hand on top of Negan’s exploring one, not trying to stop him in the least.

“Negan… Mm…” Dwight struggles to get the half eaten bowl of food back on the desk without pulling away too much, and once he’s successful, Negan tugs him back in and goes to town with his mouth on Dwight’s neck. “Fuck… Gonna mark me up, love?”

Heat swoops almost violently in Carl’s stomach at the sound of Dwight’s voice. He’s becoming so quickly bothered that he might be dizzy, and he can’t even blame it on the rum.

His own empty bowl touches the desk much softer than Dwight’s did. He barely even looks at it, too focused on the way Negan is sucking at the first mate’s throat. He wets his lips almost in sympathy but really he’s almost itching to do the same.

Negan hums, eyes flicking open to land on Carl as he bites his teeth into Dwight’s skin.

He’s been caught looking, Carl knows. Maybe he would be more embarrassed if he was sober, maybe he would have left before they got this far. He meets Negan’s gaze, nearly shuddering at the heat of it and wonders if he should go, if Negan will tell him to leave.

He should’ve known Negan would never.

As Negan licks at the teeth marks he’s left in Dwight, he reaches out the hand that’d been feeling Dwight up and crooks two fingers at Carl. “Won’t you c’mere?” he asks, voice deep and thick.

Dwight looks up at the sound of his words and notices Carl like he forgot he was in the room. He laughs softly and also reaches an inviting hand out.

Carl shouldn’t, or maybe he should. It’s hard to figure out like this. Mostly he just wants to watch, and isn’t that a filthy thought? He’s glad for the length of his vest because he’s already firming up inside his trousers.

He drops his feet from the desk, standing a little too quickly for his rum-addled brain. He keeps a hand in the desk as he carefully steps around it, pushing the other dishes away and leaning back practically sitting in its surface inches from the two men. He grabs each of their hands in his, giving a squeeze before letting go, eyes dropping back to Dwight’s neck.

“View’s better from here,” he tells them, so very quiet.

Negan grins, pressing his mouth to Dwight’s ear. “He just wants to watch.”

“That’s fine,” Dwight sighs, already melting back into Negan. “Touch if you want, Carl, but you don’t have to.”

Negan growls softly, wandering hand finding its way up to grope at Dwight’s chest. “Tell us what you want to see. Want you to enjoy the show.”

The easy acceptance of the whole thing is almost striking in how casual it is. It comforts Carl somehow and he can’t help but follow Negan’s hands with his gaze. There are several things he can imagine those hands doing, nearly more than what he can imagine Negan’s mouth doing.

“Believe me,” he hums, “I’m enjoying it.”

“Good,” Negan purrs, tugging out the ties on Dwight’s shirt to splay it open. His chest and shoulders bare now, Negan dives in to press kisses and bites across his shoulder and shoulder blade. Dwight gasps and whines each time the sharp teeth sink in, head lulled back onto Negan’s shoulder.

“Fuck…”

Something about Dwight in less clothes is always eye-drawing. Negan is a peacock, it’s not odd to look at him or admire everything he shows off. Dwight is different though, quieter, softer, something he could get into trouble over.

Carl kicks his boots off, shoving them out of the way so that he can lift himself all the way up on the desk and crisscross his legs. He thinks he’s quiet enough to keep from interrupting Dwight’s pleasure but he wouldn’t be surprised if Negan noticed. He leans forward, ringed fingers curling under his chin with his elbows on his knees, watching intently.

Negan does notice, laughing softly at just how into watching Carl is. He likes it though. Likes putting on a show for him. Likes playing Dwight like a fiddle for an adoring audience. Likes seeing the hunger in Carl’s blue eyes.

He knows Negan is getting a kick out of this, but all Carl can focus on is the picture they make in front of him.

Negan shifts his hands, sliding one up under the front of Dwight’s shirt to feel the warm skin of his belly. The other goes up his back to bury into his blond hair, tugging on it to release an absolutely filthy noise from Dwight’s throat.

A pleased shiver races up Carl’s spine at the sound, and for a moment it’s hard for him to choose between what he wants to look at. The pleasure on Dwight’s face? Or the hand sweeping up his stomach?

Negan doesn’t make it any easier as he controls Dwight’s head via the grip on his hair, tilting it down so he can swallow Dwight’s moans in a kiss. It’s more teeth and tongue than anything, but Dwight reaches up to grab Negan’s face and keep him there anyhow.

He jolts when Negan’s hand reaches high enough to grip a pec, flicking across a sensitive nipple with his thumb. He whines and squirms in Negan’s grasp, trying to get away and trying to get more at the same time.

Negan has only ever really kissed Carl gently, firmly, sleepily. The sight of him kissing Dwight like this has all of the younger man’s blood buzzing around in his body.

Something in the flex of their jaws, the grasp of their hands, the give and take between them has Carl stuck, entranced. He couldn’t walk away even if he wanted to. It leaves him with absolutely sinful thoughts, thoughts he won’t voice… not yet.

“Mm, wanna eat you up,” Negan murmurs against Dwight’s lips. He tugs Dwight’s head back and trails his lips down his throat. “You taste so good. Feel so good.”

“Negan…”

Negan glances to Carl and smiles. “You’re doing such a good job for Carl, love. You like him watching, don’t you?”

Dwight bites his lip and nods as much as he can in Negan’s grip, eyes squeezed shut.

“You like showing off, huh? Like him watching you come undone.”

“Yeah… Yes…”

Carl can’t help but react to Negan’s words himself. They aren’t for him but he can feel his body tense and the growing need between his legs ache. He feels for Dwight, because if Negan were touching him like that, talking to him like that, he doesn’t know if he would be able to even answer.

“Beautiful, dear heart,” he breathes out the praise before he can stop his traitorous mouth, “you’re doing beautifully for us.”

Dwight makes a soft sound, opening his eyes to look at Carl. Heat floods his system as he realizes just how intently he’s being watched. Moaning softly, Dwight tries to twist like he’s going to hide in Negan’s chest, but Negan doesn’t allow him.

“Ah, no getting shy now, dear. Come on. Show Carl how much you’re enjoying this.” It doesn’t take much for Negan to turn Dwight to get him facing Carl. Negan runs his hands down Dwight’s thighs and pulls them open, hooking Dwight’s legs on the outside of his own. “There we go. Look at you.”

Dwight whimpers and drops his head back as Negan runs one hand up his shirt again and the other down over the obvious tent in his pants.

Carl’s eyes follow, drool collecting in his mouth at the idea of sliding to the floor and helping. He knows this part after all, arguably it’s one of the few parts he does know. He swallows instead, staying on the desk to watch.

“Such a lovely picture, darling,” he practically croons exercising his patience. He can’t touch himself yet, not until he’s memorized this picture, not until the other two are at least past foreplay.

“Isn’t he, though?” Negan agrees, pressing his lips to the side of Dwight’s neck he hasn’t worked on yet. With both hands, he goes to work on Dwight’s belt, unlatching it and slipping it out from the front loops.

He looks to Carl again, judging his reaction as Negan starts to unlace Dwight’s breeches. “You wanna see his pretty cock? How pink and wet it is? How hard you’ve made it just by watching?”

Carl's eyes drop to the two men’s gaped legs again. He doesn’t think the sight of Negan’s hands will ever get old but especially the sight of them on a belt. Carl can’t help but have to swallow again, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth for a few short seconds.

“I do, immensely,” he confesses, eyes flicking up to meet Negan’s, heated.

Negan grins, teeth sharp and hungry. “Good.”

Dwight jolts softly as Negan slips his hand down the front of his pants, gasping and rocking his hips. He grabs onto Negan’s wrists which earns him a click of the tongue from the captain.

“Hands up, dear. Go on. Let me work.”

With a groan, Dwight raises his shaky hands up and behind their heads grasping the back of the ornate chair like he’s done it many times before. He looks down at the sight of Negan’s hand disappearing inside his pants and then up at Carl, watching like a hawk.

“Hold this for me, love,” Negan says, yanking up the bottom of Dwight’s shirt and tucking it into his mouth. Dwight bites down on the fabric with a moan, his chest and torso exposed. He’s never felt so much like a flayed fish.

“Don’t you both make such a pretty picture,” Carl says, some part of him trying to soothe any nervousness Dwight might have.

Part of him feels like if any of them are out of place, it’s him. But like he said before, he’s greedy.

“So pretty,” he repeats much softer.

“So pretty,” Negan parrots, finally pushing Dwight’s pants down just enough to allow his cock to bob out into the open. Dwight sighs out his nose and tosses his head back again.

Licking his lips, Negan traces his fingers up and down Dwight’s shaft, watching it twitch and drip onto his belly. “God, doesn’t that just look delicious?”

Carl’s tongue darts out, sliding across his bottom lip without his say so as he eyes the first mate’s dick. It is quite lovely. Something he’s already picturing sliding across his tongue before he bites the offending muscle back into his mouth.

“Absolutely mouth watering,” he finds himself answering, voice a bit thin.

Negan rumbles in his chest, pressing a kiss to Dwight’s cheek. “Do you want to taste, Carl? Dwight surely won’t mind.” He watches Carl with curiosity, hands petting over Dwight’s lower belly.

Carl doesn’t know how he manages to do it so smoothly, dropping his legs and sliding down first to his toes then his knees. He barely has to scoot forward to lay his cheek against Dwight’s thigh, shaky breath fanning over the man’s dripping cock.

“Do you, dear heart?” he asks, so utterly wanting but not willing to press without knowing if he’s truly allowed.

Dwight shivers and looks down, moaning just at the sight of Carl so close to his cock. He releases his shirt from his mouth, Negan’s hand catching it quickly. “Please,” Dwight says, voice shaky with need. “Yes, please. Carl, please.”

Carl leans forward immediately as if he has been released from a tether. One of his hands ends up on Dwight’s knee for leverage and he slips his tongue out first, laving it up the underside of the man’s pretty pink dick. The salt bursting over his tongue from Dwight’s slick has him moaning softly against the shaft.

He wants to swallow the man down right here and now but he knows he needs to get him wetter first or it won’t be as easy. His eyes slide shut as he strokes his tongue back down again. It shouldn’t take him long to get the first mate wet enough, not with the way he’s drooling over the man like some sort of harlot.

Dwight moans softly, watching Carl work him over and shaking from the pleasure racing up his spine. Even with just his tongue, Dwight can tell Carl knows what he’s doing. “Yes, yes, Carl. Oh…”

Negan reaches back and takes one of Dwight’s hands off the chair, bringing it down to rest on Carl’s head. He laces their fingers together as they both dig into Carl’s chestnut hair.

“Look how pretty you are down there,” Negan murmurs, focus on Carl. “So eager. So hungry. Such a good boy.”

The sound Carl lets out over the praise is weak and needy. He’s glad of the way he’s stowed the bandana he stole because that means Negan and Dwight can bury their fingers in his hair. He leans into the touch briefly before returning his attention to Dwight’s pretty cock.

Having thoroughly slicked the man up, he kneels upwards slightly and wraps his lips around the head, rolling his tongue against the slit. Another soft moan escapes him at the taste and he sucks hard for a moment just at the head. It’s a strange surprise how much he missed this sort of thing.

Dwight moans, turning his face to bury it into Negan’s neck. He tries to rock his hips forward, seeking out the warmth of Carl’s mouth, but Negan’s got his other hand clamped tight on his hip, keeping him down.

“Feel good, hun?” he murmurs, watching Carl work.

Dwight gives a breathy, “Yeah,” and a nod, his hand clenching in Carl’s hair.

Carl rolls his tongue under the head, angling to the side a little and sliding down to take Dwight deeper. He squeezes Dwight’s knee, unbothered by the tiny rock of his hips but thankful nonetheless for Negan’s hand on the first mate. He likes this but it’s been a while since he did it last.

He pulls his mouth back up to the head before sliding back down again, this time farther.

“Fuck…” Dwight pants, looking down at Carl before squeezing his eyes shut against the beautiful image. God, he wishes he had a way to save it forever.

“Tell me what it feels like, love,” Negan says, smoothing his hand across Dwight’s lower belly.

“Warm,” Dwight breathes. “Wet… So good. His tongue… mm… So hot.”

“Wonderful.” Negan trails his hand down from Carl’s hair to his cheek, tracing his thumb around the seam of Carl’s lips and Dwight’s dick. He honestly can’t think of a more radiant sight. “Beautiful.”

Carl's eyes slip open at the touch and he looks up to Negan, more than a little hazy. He takes Dwight deeper into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks under the captain’s touch.

Shifting his hand from Dwight’s knee, he circles his fingers around what’s left of the first mate’s cock not wanting to risk swallowing down too much more when he’s half drunk like this. Massaging his fingers across the root, he bobs his head once more, eyes slipping back closed.

“God, that’s sinful. Delightfully so. Think you were made for this. To be on your knees with a cock in your mouth. Look so fucking pretty. Goddamn gorgeous.” Negan is rambling, he knows he is, but the sight beneath him just has his mouth running faster than his brain. Dwight squirming in his lap isn’t helping keep him sane either. “Fuck, and you. Letting the both of us have our way with you. Such a whore, aren’t you? You like it though. You love it. God, you’re so perfect.”

Dwight grabs Negan’s face with his free hand and smashes their lips together, shutting him up for the moment.

Carl moans at the filth spilling out of Negan’s mouth, shivering under the attention. He cannot help himself anymore, his free hand slips under the fabric of his vest and shirt, pulling at the buttons on his pants.

He swallows around Dwight’s cock as he finally slips his own hand into his pants. The whine that escapes him when he finally takes himself in hand is low and mostly muffled by the prick between his lips.

An answering whine spills from Dwight into Negan’s mouth, the vibrations from Carl making his leg jump and sparks to shoot up his spine. He isn’t going to last much longer at this rate.

Especially not with Negan grabbing his hips in both hands and rolling his throbbing covered cock up into Dwight. The tease of it against his ass makes Dwight almost sob as he grinds down onto it.

Carl pulls back slightly, focusing most of his attention on the upper half of the man’s cock where he can move his tongue easier. He strokes the rest of the length in the same languid fashion he’s stripping his own dick within the confines of his pants.

Carl’s hand is messy with his own drool and his breathing is shaky through his nose. His hips are twitching up into his own hand minutely even as he tries to stay still and give Dwight all his focus.

Negan finally breaks the kiss with bites against Dwight’s lips, trailing his mouth down to his shoulder again. He bites and sucks against the smooth skin, eyes trained down on Carl all the while.

He can tell Dwight is close from the tremors in his legs and the way his breath is hitching. “You gonna come for us, Dwight? You gonna be a good boy and give Carl your seed? You think he’ll drink it down, love? Or maybe let you come all over his pretty face. He’d look so good dripping with your spend, wouldn’t he?”

Carl’s nose wrinkles a little against his will. He definitely doesn’t like the idea of it all over his face the same way he likes the idea of it down his throat. Opening his eyes to look up at the two men, he presses his tongue right under the head and sucks, hoping to get his point across without having to pull away.

He hasn’t been paying as much attention to his own aching prick. It’s drooling in his hand, making his fingers messy and his halfhearted strokes a little smoother. It hasn’t really been his big concern in this, even if he would enjoy the rush of pleasure.

“Fuck… C-Carl… I’m close. So close.” Dwight’s breaths come fast and heavy as he tries to keep his eyes open and look down at the boy giving him pleasure. He can feel the prick of pain from Negan biting him again mixing in with the pleasure coursing through his body, making it all that much better.

“Think he wants to swallow you down, love.” Negan reaches out to bury his fingers in Carl’s hair again, scratching against his scalp and tugging at the roots. “Go on. Give him his dessert.”

Carl moans, and it’s not a quiet thing at all. He can barely keep his eyes open with the sensation of Negan’s nails against his scalp, shivering at the feel of it and everything they’re saying. His hands tighten for a moment, and he recovers with a roll of his thumb against the root of Dwight’s cock.

That’s all it seems to take for Dwight to tip over the edge. He comes with a shout and then a low moan, his knees trying to jerk together to trap Carl’s head between them. Negan’s hands on his thighs are the only thing keeping him from doing so. “Fuck, fuck, oh…”

A horrible little keen escapes Carl as he pulls back to drink down as much as he can. Some spills past the seal of his mouth and when he finally pulls off he collects it on his tongue, cleaning Dwight off as best he can before resting his cheek on the man’s trembling thigh and trying to catch his breath.

“You did beautifully, dear heart,” Carl finds himself murmuring moving his hand away from Dwight’s spent cock to stroke his thigh. “Thank you.”

Dwight makes a soft noise in acknowledgement, his head tipped back as he shivers in the aftershocks and tries to catch his breath. He receives a soft kiss on the cheek from Negan for his efforts.

“You both did so well,” Negan murmurs, smoothing the back of his fingers down Dwight’s cheek before doing the same to Carl. “Most wanton thing I’ve ever seen. Good job, my dear.”

Carl shivers, hand twitching on his prick. He buries his face against Dwight’s thigh with a whimper realizing just how much he’s aching now that all of his attention isn’t on bringing the older man pleasure. “Damn…”

Dwight lifts his head, wondering what could have made Carl curse when he never usually does. The pirates both realize at the same time.

“Oh, Carl, dear. Come up here,” Dwight says, voice a little strained from his moaning. “You took care of me. Let me return it.”

“We will break that chair,” Carl mumbles, half embarrassed, into Dwight’s leg. He shifts his hand, grinding the head of his dick against his thigh and gasps openly into the cloth of Dwight’s pants.

“It’s stronger than you might think,” Negan says, eyes tracking the movement of Carl’s arm and wishing he could see down below.

Dwight runs his hand through Carl’s hair, smiling down at him. “Please, lad? Wanna see you and touch you.”

“This is a horrible idea,” Carl mumbles.

But he still pulls his hand from his pants and clambers up in the chair anyway, half balanced on the armrests. He has to press one of his hands against the back of the chair, practically caging them to it so he doesn’t fall backwards or overbalance them.

He’s close to their faces now, very little space separating he and Dwight from being chest to chest. He presses his lips together so that he won’t beg one of them to kiss him, he has just had a cock in his mouth after all.

Not that that seems to bother the pirates the way they immediately grab for Carl and pull him in to press dual kisses against his cheeks and jaw and lips. Two sets of hands pet over his body from his chest to his hips, one slinking up the back of his shirt to feel his warm skin.

Carl is trembling under the onslaught of attention. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the back of the chair and his sword makes a loud thumping sound against the arm as he and whoever is touching his back shove his sword belt upwards. His fingers disappear back into his pants and he moans wetly against Dwight’s lips as he takes himself in hand again.

“Feeling good?” Dwight murmurs against Carl’s lips as Negan softly nips at the side of Carl’s neck. Lithe fingers trail down Carl’s arm, tugging at the waist of his pants. “Can I help? Can I touch you, dear?”

“Please,” Carl gasps, and oh he hates begging but for this he will. He lets go of his cock if only to help shove the waist of his pants down. “Please, please, please.”

Dwight’s fingers immediately wrap around Carl’s cock, slicking easily from how much he’s leaking. “Oh, you feel so good, Carl. What a good cock you have.”

Negan’s mouth leaves his neck for a moment so he can look down between their bodies and let out an impressed whistle. “God, that’s pretty. A pretty prick for a pretty boy.” The hand on his back, obviously Negan’s from how much larger and rougher it is than the one on Carl’s cock, moves down to claim a handful of Carl’s ass. A pleased hum vibrates through Negan’s chest.

“Oh, oh goodness,” Carl gasps, his now free hand grabbing forcefully at Negan’s shoulder for balance. He has the piece of mind for a second to be glad it’s not Negan’s injured one before the thought is lost to the abyss.

He was close already but with an unfamiliar hand on his prick and Negan roughly groping his behind he’s hurtling much faster towards his finish. “Close… ngh, damn, oh!”

“Yeah? You can do it, lad. C’mon. Come for us.” Dwight focuses his hand around the head of Carl’s cock, moving quickly and twisting his wrist slightly.

Lad. Carl loves it when Dwight calls him that. It’s such a stupid silly word and it doesn’t even sound the same when Negan says it. But Dwight calls him lad, twisting his hand around the head of his prick and Carl spills into the first mate’s hand with a low moan, forehead thumping down right against where Dwight’s shoulder presses into Negan’s chest.

“There ya go. Shh. Good.” Twin hands come up to rub at Carl’s back as soft kisses are pressed into his hair. Dwight wrings Carl out for all he can before letting go and letting Carl relax.

“Wonderful, pet. Really wonderful. I coulda watched that all day and never gotten bored. You’re fantastic,” Negan murmurs into Carl’s ear, rubbing his bearded cheek gently against Carl’s head.

Carl paws at Dwight weakly, turning his face against the blond’s throat. “We gotta move,” he mumbles breathlessly.

Dwight laughs softly and nods. “Okay. Okay. Can you stand?” he asks, ready to help stabilize Carl if he needs it.

“Yeah, yes, of course, yep,” Carl grumbles, practically shoving himself out of the chair. He does stumble, stepping back and using the edge of the desk for balance as he fixes his pants and clasps them shut.

“C’mon,” Carl says, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers towards Dwight. “‘S Negan's turn.”

“Oh?” Negan perks up, helping push Dwight off of him once he grabs Carl’s hand. “I get a turn?” He was honestly going to be satisfied just seeing the two of them get off, but if Carl is offering, he’d like to see what Carl has in store.

Carl can’t help but turn and look at Negan like he’s an idiot. “Wh- huh? Of course you get to- why would we not- what?”

Negan shrugs, shifting to relax better in his chair now that he doesn’t have two extra bodies in it with him. “You both had a good time, and I had a good time watching. Just cause I didn’t come doesn’t mean I wasn’t satisfied.” He tugs at his pants, trying to adjust the pressure they’re putting on his hard on. “Figured you two might be too tired anyway.”

“Is he always like this?” Carl looks at Dwight for an answer, only barely waiting for him to say anything before shaking his head and squeezing the first mate’s hand. He can tell he’s more verbose than usual, but he can’t tell if it’s the remnants of the rum or the fact that he’s just spilled all over Dwight’s hand. “Nevermind. Obviously I would love your input and assistance.”

Dwight laughs softly, but nods, feeling warm and fuzzy from his own orgasm mixed with the dregs of alcohol still in his system.

Carl lets go of Dwight, stepping over to Negan again and sliding down to his knees. He shifts slightly, getting as comfortable as he can without a cushion or anything under him. He reaches out to begin undoing the captain’s pants only to catch the man’s gaze and flush. “Christ, don’t look at me like that with your dumb face.”

“How am I looking at you?” Negan asks with a smile, his chin resting in his hand, elbow on the arm rest. He’s only gazing down at Carl with affection and adoration, nothing new.

“I don’t know, but it’s a lot,” Carl mumbles, gently drawing Negan’s cock out of his trousers. “Look at him,” he says, nodding his head back towards Dwight, “he’s pretty.”

He strokes the heated flesh in his hand, getting a feel for the girth in his palm, and then leans forward to begin running his tongue over Negan’s prick. It was easier not to be embarrassed when it was Dwight because there was so little attention on him. That and Negan is, well, bigger.

“You’re pretty too, you know,” Negan says with a soft groan as Carl’s tongue touches him. He feels like he might go insane finally getting something that he’s craved for so long. He reaches out to pet Carl’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair again.

“Scoot over,” says Dwight, lightly pushing Carl as he falls to his knees next to him. He smiles and reaches up to squeeze at Negan’s inner thigh. “Can’t let you have all the fun. We can work together, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, absolutely,” Carl mumbles. He turns himself, half to the side, spreading his knees to accommodate Dwight. When they’re both there, pressed together between Negan’s knees, he flattens his tongue, stroking it all the way up his side of the man’s prick.

“Fuck, you two are gonna be the death of me,” Negan groans, resting his other hand on Dwight’s head. His two boys between his knees and mouthing at his cock. Negan’s practically died and gone to Heaven.

Dwight follows Carl’s lead, licking from base to tip on his side of Negan’s cock. It’s a familiar taste to him, one that he’ll never forget and always long for.

Carl’s free hand slips down, tangling with Dwight’s between them. He thoroughly bathes his side of Negan’s cock with his tongue, wetting him down as much as possible, and he keens sharply when Dwight’s tongue brushes over his, leaning forward without thought to chase it.

It’s filthy the way Dwight moans as he lets Carl catch him, squeezing their hands as they kiss messily with Negan’s cock between them. The sight would surely make even the most experienced whore blush.

Even Negan.

He’s beat red, hands clenched in both of their hair, a running stream of curses falling from his lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Look at the two of you. Fucking, Jesus Christ. Jesus, fuck.”

The whole thing has Carl’s blood thundering around inside of him and he mewls against Negan’s cock, curling his tongue against Dwight’s once more, fleetingly. He slips upwards, kneeling up to take the head into his mouth and the girth of it certainly takes up more room in his mouth than any other cock he’s ever had. He’s glad of Dwight’s assistance in this, excited about it, utterly filthy with thoughts of it. He shivers in pleasure, willing himself to focus on the task at hand.

“Oh, goddamnit. Fuck… Careful, pet…” Negan knows he’s bigger than Dwight and can feel the way he fits snugly inside Carl’s mouth. Dwight’s got a hand on the base of Negan’s cock, keeping him up and aligned for Carl, and all Negan wants to do is rock his hips up. Thrust into that tight hold and that tight warmth. Slip down Carl’s thin throat and make his home there.

The sound he makes, the way Carl’s hand spasms in Dwight’s, the instinctive roll of his tongue pushing forward so that he can take the man deeper — it’s all terribly telling of how much Carl likes that name. He would perhaps be much, much more cognizant of any embarrassment if he weren’t getting foggier by the second.

Dwight pumps his hand over everything Carl can’t swallow, watching him carefully to make sure he doesn’t try to overexert himself. “Doing such a good job,” Dwight murmurs, pressing a kiss to Carl’s cheek. “You’re making Negan feel so good.”

Carl squirms, pushing away the curl of arousal that’s attempting to hook around his spine. He’s had his turn, this is about Negan. Except it’s very hard to remember that at the moment even when he has the man’s cock in his mouth because the whole situation is quite lovely.

Hollowing his cheeks out as he pulls back, Carl pauses with just the head in his mouth once more. Alternating between stroking his tongue back and forth over Negan’s slit and curling it around the head for a moment, Carl swallows and pushes back down.

“Christ, Carl. Fucking expert at this,” Negan moans, the spring in his lower belly tightening. He pushes aside Carl’s hair from where it’s fallen into his face, eyeing where Carl and him come together. He hopes one day to fill Carl another way as well, but today… Today is a good day.

Carl almost wants to pull back and mumble that of course he’s good at this. He likes this and it’s the safest thing you can do with another man on land - easy clean up.

Instead, he doubles down, opening his eyes a little to catch sight of Dwight and reel him in, urging him to lap at Negan’s cock instead of blocking Carl from taking more down. He can only handle a bit more at this angle but he wants it nonetheless.

Taking the hint, Dwight lets go and licks near the root of Negan’s cock up to where Carl is, bumping their noses gently. He heads back down and mouths at the base with a hum.

If Carl could grin like this he would. Since he can’t, he just squeezes Dwight’s hand and continues to work Negan over, pulling up and off when Dwight follows him. Flattening his tongue against the tip, Carl feels absolutely whorish as he meets Dwight’s gaze, wondering if the man will want to switch around or share like this again.

“Oh, please. Please kiss for me,” Negan murmurs with a deep groan.

Dwight smiles and does just that, leaning in and capturing Carl in a kiss around Negan’s leaking tip. He thinks there’s no better taste than this.

It’s an odd thing, to kiss around the head of a cock. Doesn’t mean it isn’t any less wonderful. Carl angles his head better, makes it easier to flatten his tongue against Negan and still reach Dwight without taking the attention away from either.

The little show they’re putting on must be at least as good for Negan as the other two’s was for Carl. He pulls back with that thought, sealing his lips against the side of Negan’s shaft and sucking.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fucking blow,” Negan moans, tugging on Dwight and Carl’s hair. “Get… Get together. Wanna come on you both. C’mon.” He tries to squish them together, Dwight clueing in on Negan’s idea.

“Stick your tongue out ‘n’ close your eyes,” he says to Carl, pressing their cheeks together and opening his mouth in example while Negan furiously strokes himself, aiming towards their faces.

Carl wrinkles his nose. “You’re cleanin’ me up,” he mumbles, voice far more wrecked than he thought it would be.

Closing his eyes, he lets his mouth fall open as well. The things he does for these pirates, he swears.

It only takes a moment before Negan is grunting low and spilling out over both their tongues. He manages to get it across the bridge of Dwight’s nose, but tries to keep it only in Carl’s mouth.

“Fucking hell… Need a drawing of this.”

Carl hums, trying not to be too annoyed by the spend on his cheek and chin as he swallows down what he’s been given. Licking his lips he opens his eyes so he can give Negan a soft, barely bothered scowl. “I think the memory will have to do.”

The effect is definitely lessened by the thickness of his voice and the seed on his face.

Negan grins and slumps into his chair, trying to get his breaths under control. “And what a memory it is.”

He leans forward again, grabbing both of their faces gently and licking his own cum off before dropping a kiss to their lips. “This was fun. Yeah? You two were so excellent.”

“Of course we were,” Carl mumbles, giving in and pressing forward to kiss Negan again since clearly the man isn’t bothered by the taste.

He pulls back after a moment. “Now can one of you help me up? I think my leg is asleep.”

Negan chuckles and tucks himself away, grabbing hold of Carl’s arm and helping him stand. “Prop up against the desk there until you can feel it again.” He pulls Dwight up next, who rubs at his face and yawns.

“Bedtime?” he asks, thoroughly exhausted now that the adrenaline and endorphins have settled down.

“Yes, absolutely bedtime,” Carl mutters, already starting to pull off his many accoutrements as he tries to roll the feeling back into his ankle. He pauses, wondering if he should ask to stay, before abruptly deciding he’s staying unless they specifically kick him out and continuing to pull off bracelets.

Dwight and Negan also shed their accessories before Negan sheds his shirt and Dwight goes to dig in the dresser.

“This is my favorite day,” Negan says with a soft laugh, helping Dwight take off his old shirt and put on the new one he picked out. “Successful raid, and successful after party, and I get to sleep with my favorite people. Mm. Yes.”

Dwight smiles at him and gives him a kiss before crawling into bed, eyes shutting the moment his head hits the pillow. He sighs and relaxes into the mattress.

“You’re a sap,” Carl says around a yawn after he’s shed all but his shirt and trousers. He shoves his dagger under the middle pillow, practically tumbling down next to Dwight.

“If Cook fusses at us for keeping dishes overnight I’m blaming you,” he tells them, crossing his ankles and folding his arms, waiting intently for Negan to slide in next to him like usual.

Negan snorts and blows out the lanterns, crawling into bed and immediately wrapping his arm around Carl and snuggling in close. “Mm. Goodnight, my dears.”

“Sweet dreams,” Carl says, already halfway to sleep, head turning slightly towards Dwight as he drifts.

Chapter 18

Chapter by RanebowStitches

Summary:

The morning after.

Notes:

R: Gonna be real honest, we almost forgot to post this one 😂 Wednesday just snuck up and I was like oh shit it’s /wednesday/ lol anyway some cute fluff for y’all~

 

The crew is slow to wake the next day. The jovial singing of last night is now groans of headaches and the occasional hurl over the edge of those who had drank too much. Half of the morning crew is still asleep in their bunks or asleep on the deck, even as the sun makes it to mid-morning.

In the captain’s cabin, Dwight is the first to stir. His mouth is dry and his eyelids feel like lead, but still he pulls them open and smiles at the sight of Carl and Negan beside him. Last night is a little blurry in his mind, but the main parts are clear.

He reaches out to run his fingers through Negan’s hair and then across Carl’s cheek, just taking in the moment of being with them.

Carl has gotten good at not reacting with his dagger to his new bedmates in the last days, but that doesn’t keep him from waking when Dwight touches his face. The room is just a bit too bright for comfort when he opens his eyes and his mouth tastes awful provoking a grimace.

Lifting his hands he roughly drags them across his face, digging his fingertips into his gritty eyes and mumbling into his palms, “I need water.”

“Best I could get you is some grog,” Dwight murmurs back with a smile, pressing his lips to Carl’s shoulder.

Carl hums softly, still into his hands though he’s smiling slightly now under the man’s attention. “Lord, that sounds wonderful.”

Dwight hums in agreement, going to nuzzle up into Carl’s neck when he notices something. He bites his lip and skims his fingers over the small bruise on Carl’s neck, right at the junction of his shoulder. “Oh my… Seems Negan got a little zealous with his teeth.”

Carl hums, dropping his hand to brush across the spot Dwight just touched. “Well, it doesn’t hurt, and I don’t feel particularly mauled, so he probably could have done better,” Carl jokes.

Dwight laughs softly and takes Carl’s hand in his, squeezing it softly. “He was probably unsure if you’d be okay with it or not. He surely didn’t hold back on me.” Dwight rolls his shoulder, feeling the soreness there. “But, he knows I like it.”

“I like it alright,” Carl shrugs, squeezing Dwight’s hand back while he yawns. “Would probably appreciate it more in other places.”

He flushes when he realizes what he’s said and is about to hide his face again when he sees the man shifting his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“‘M alright,” Dwight says with a nod, closing his eyes again and sighing. “Just tired. Worn out. A little sore.” He smiles. “All signs of a good night, eh?”

“I have some pepper oil if the soreness persists,” Carl tells him before turning to look at the captain half sprawled over him. “I’d get it for you now but…”

“It’s alright,” Dwight says with a soft laugh. “If it becomes a bother, I’ll ask for some, but for now I actually like it. It feels like a little reminder of our night.”

“For now,” Carl starts, jabbing his fingers into Negan’s side annoyingly. “We have stuff to do, so up.”

Negan hardly moves, his soft snores stuttering the only thing to show that Carl had any effect.

“Good luck with that,” Dwight says with a snort, sneaking his own arm around Carl and curling into him. “He probably won’t be very functional today.”

“One of us has to make an appearance,” Carl huffs, the endearing tone of his voice isn’t doing him any favors. “Preferably one of you considering the fact that you two are in charge.”

“I suppose,” Dwight says, running his fingers through Negan’s hair lovingly. He’ll rouse him in a moment, but for now, he’d like to just soak this all in.

Tilting his head up a bit to rest on Carl’s shoulder, Dwight asks, “And how are you this morning?”

“Other than my desperate need for a drink?” Carl asks rhetorically before continuing more seriously. “I’m wonderful. You? I didn’t… overstep?”

“Not at all, dear. I’m more worried about us having gone too far than you,” Dwight says, circling his fingers down behind Negan’s ear. “Everything was alright?”

“Yeah,” Carl breathes, reaching up to where Dwight rests on his shoulder to run his fingers down the man’s jaw. “It was great.”

“Good,” Dwight says, tilting his face into the touch so that Carl’s fingers run over his lips and feel his smile. He hopes it’s not too intimate with Carl’s hands for him to do so, though he only thinks about it after it’s already done.

Carl runs his thumb over Dwight’s bottom lip before pulling his hand away and tapping the man’s nose. “You’re stalling me.”

“Aye, I might be,” Dwight says with a laugh, pushing up on his arm so he can look down at Carl. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to his cheek and then his lips. “Can you blame me for wanting to stay in bed all day?”

Carl can’t help but hum into the kiss before pulling back and giving the man a soft look. “No, but it’s not exactly something we should do.”

Dwight chuckles. “I suppose.” He gives Carl one more kiss before moving down and pressing his lips to Negan’s temple.

“Dear, it’s time to wake up,” he murmurs softly into Negan’s ear, then makes sure he’s not holding onto Carl before giving a harsh shove and sending Negan to the floor with a thud.

“Ugh. Fuck.”

“Were we always allowed to do that?” Carl wonders, using the free space to stretch, back and shoulders popping slightly.

“I usually save it for special occasions,” Dwight says, leaning over Carl to see how Negan is faring.

“You awake, dear?”

“Unfortunately,” Negan groans, flat on his back, arm covering his eyes.

Carl resists the urge to pull Dwight down on top of him, turning his head to grin down at Negan. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Negan mumbles, lifting his arm just enough to look up at Carl from under it. If it is even that anymore, he thinks, noticing how high the sun is up through the windows. “How did you sleep?”

“Same as I always do,” Carl answers easily. It’s nice that the man still asks even if he knows how Carl is going to answer. “And you?”

“Good. The wake up could have used improvement.”

“You weren’t getting up any other way and you know it,” Dwight says with a smile, lying perpendicular over Carl, resting his arms on the edge of the bed. “You feeling okay overall?”

“Head hurts. Thirsty.” Negan smacks his lips together, sticking his tongue out. “Got cotton mouth. So, you know. Okay enough.”

Carl reaches down, idly fixing Dwight’s shirt over his waist and hips. “How’s your memory, old man?”

“Pretty good, I think. Why?” Negan sits up with a groan, rubbing his head and looking over at the two. “You hoping I forgot about last night, pet?”

Carl shivers, teeth immediately pressing against his bottom lip. He had perhaps hoped that particular nugget of knowledge had been lost to the rum. “No, no definitely not.”

“Mm, good.” Negan leans in and presses a kiss to Dwight’s lips before resting his chin down on the bed near Carl’s head. “Fuck. Sat up too fast. Made m’self dizzy.”

“Some food will do you good then,” Carl points out, scratching his fingers through the captain’s hair.

Negan practically purrs, closing his eyes at the petting. He keeps them closed as he feels Dwight move, the blond man sitting up and then swinging a leg over Carl’s hips. He stops there for only a second to get his balance before bringing the second leg over and sliding off the bed like it was nothing.

Going to their dishes from last night, he picks up their mugs and swirls the leftover liquid within. “Still a bit of grog in here, but we’ll have to make a trip for food.”

“Mine was ale,” Carl says, voice strained as he tries to push down the very instinctive arousal of briefly having Dwight straddling him.

Negan opens his eyes at Carl’s tone, raising his eyebrow in question. He doesn’t get a chance to ask because Dwight is back, sitting in the edge of the bed and passing out mugs.

“This one looks like ale,” he says to Carl as he hands him his, tasting a sip of his own to make sure it’s not ale on accident. Negan also sips at his before downing it in a few gulps.

Carl sits up, cradling his mug and sipping it down. It’s tepid rather than lightly chilled from the cellar so it does little to help with the taste of his mouth but it helps with the thirst. “Thank you.”

“‘Course.” Dwight gives Carl’s leg a little pat and smiles as he drinks down the last of his grog. “We best check on the rest of the ship soon. It seems quiet outside, but that doesn’t mean there’s not trouble.”

“Ah, they’re probably just passed out about the deck,” Negan says with a grunt, pushing off the bed to stand up. Dwight holds out his hands to help stabilize him if he needs it, but Negan waves him off gently. “Where’s my coat? I’ll go do a run of the place.”

“No clue, wasn’t exactly something I was focused on last night,” Carl says after he finishes off his ale. He slides out of bed, taking time to make sure he’s steady in his feet before he makes his way over to his own pile of belongings.

“I appreciate what you were focused on,” Negan says with a grin, following Carl to loosely wrap his arms around Carl’s waist and press kisses to his cheek and neck. “You had a good time, yeah? No regrets?”

Carl’s head tilts almost without his permission to give the man more room. “No,” he answers softly, “no regrets.” If Negan didn’t take Carl acting like an absolute harlot as his enjoyment, then the man is blind.

“Good. Very good.” Negan mouths at the little spot he left on Carl’s neck before trailing back up to his ear. He’s mostly just ecstatic that he can touch Carl like this now without the threat of a knife getting stuck in him. “Next time, wanna get my mouth on your pretty little cock, okay?”

Carl’s breathing hitches, and he snakes out of Negan’s arms lightning quick, face flush. He focuses on adorning himself rather than the other two men. “God, you just say these things.”

“He sure does,” Dwight says, throwing a shirt at Negan, who catches it as it hits him in the chest. He lets out a groan as he slips it on over his head.

“Can you blame me? Wanna just ravish the both of ye all the time. Ugh. Don’t know how alluring y’all are.” Negan huffs as he looks about and finds his coat on the back of his chair, slipping it on and tugging at the lapels.

“Yes, I’m so very alluring standing here trying to get my clothes on with my hair unbrushed,” Carl huffs sarcastically. He pulls on his vest and does up the clasps, before his hands go straight to all the jewelry he’s amassed.

“Yeah. It’s called looking ‘well fucked’. You’re welcome,” Negan says with a snort.

Meanwhile, Dwight’s stacking all their dishes onto the tray, already ready to go to face the day.

“You’re awful,” Carl grumbles, picking his sword belts up and moving around to the bed to retrieve his dagger. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder. “You two should start wearing more weapons, the merchant ship proves we’re getting into busier waters.”

Dwight hums and nods, giving Negan a look. “Yes, you’re right. We will be sure to, and I’ll let the crew know. Thank you.”

Carl pauses, swordbelt half pulled on, and turns to squint at the two men. “You… aren’t going to tell me I’m paranoid?”

Both pirates give Carl a confused look as they also begin strapping their swords to themselves. “Why would we? That’s a sound assumption,” Negan says.

“No reason, nevermind.” He shakes his head, finishing with his belt. Leaning up on his toes to give each man a kiss on the cheek. “I have to go comb my hair. I’ll be up for a job as soon as I’m done.”

“Sounds good, lad,” Dwight says, returning the kiss before picking up the tray. “I’ll be in the galley waking Cook up.”

Negan goes in with his own kiss and nods. “I’ll be doing rounds, making sure everyone’s alive and where they need to be.”

“See you both in a bit,” Carl mumbles, reaching under the desk to retrieve his boots. He pulls them on, hopping a bit on his way out the door.

Chapter 19

Summary:

“It’s my uncle's ship,” Carl croaks, fingers digging hard into his biceps where he’s crossed his arms. “Reinforced with extra masts and a tow hold. Prides himself on bringing back pirate ships to be fixed and pirates to hang.”

Notes:

R: This is an exciting chapter! 🤭🤭

 

The rest of the day is slow as the crew slug about nursing off headaches and exhaustion. Luckily, Arat and Peter seem to have imbibed less or have stronger tolerances because they’re awake and making sure the ship is still on course by time the trio make their way out of the cabin.

By the next day, things are pretty much back to normal, though the notice to carry arms has gone around and everyone seems to be fitted with more metal than before. They don’t pass anymore close merchant ships, though they can see ships sailing off in the distance. None come to them and they don’t go chasing, intent for now on their task and happy with their current haul.

It’s when they encounter a ship with navy flags a few days later that things take a turn.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Carl mumbles, rushing in a speed walk across the deck to get to Negan. He pulls the spyglass out of the Captain’s hand and points it toward the navy ship, feeling a bit like he’s made of lead. “Damn.”

Carl takes a breath, holding the spyglass back out to the Captain. His whole body is tense and for quite possibly the first time since boarding Lucille he seems honestly worried. “It’s The Huntress.”

“It sounds like you know this ship,” Negan says, his tone deadly serious. It’s a jarring contrast to his usual self. He places his spyglass back onto his belt and turns to look at Carl. “Spill. What info do you have?”

“It’s my uncle's ship,” Carl croaks, fingers digging hard into his biceps where he’s crossed his arms. “Reinforced with extra masts and a tow hold. Prides himself on bringing back pirate ships to be fixed and pirates to hang.”

The younger man swallows, eyes glued to the far off ship. “He’ll board.”

Negan hums, squinting at the ship in the distance. “What’s your opinion?” he asks, starting to think out loud. “Do we attack outright, hope our cannons aim true and are enough to send him running? Or do we let him get close enough to see you? Maybe it’ll be enough to let us pass? No… He’ll think we’re kidnapping you. Maybe you can talk to him? But, I don’t want him taking you, and he surely will.” He hums, tapping his foot as thoughts jump around his brain.

“If I see him, I’ll kill him,” Carl says venomously. He doesn’t much care for his parents but it’s the principle of the thing. “And if he gets hands on any of you,” Carl shakes his head, “I might do worse.”

“Ah, okay. I see. Not a good uncle then.” Negan nods, adding this new information into the flurry of ideas running through his head. Underneath it all is a little nugget of warmth in his chest from Carl threatening violence for his and his crew’s sake, making him smile just a bit.

“So, we attack outright? We’ve got swivel cannons at the front of the ship. Usually I’d say we’d get behind them to shoot, but seeing as they’re heading towards us, that tactic won’t work. We could still get some shots in from the front before lining up the broadside cannons though.”

“You’re in charge, my darling. I’ll do as directed,” Carl says softly, reaching out to touch the man’s arm. He pats once before pulling back, already untying his brown sash from his wrist to bandana his hair back. “But that bastard fucked my mom, so if I see him, I don’t want anyone getting in my way.”

“God, I love you when you’re murderous,” Negan says softly, reaching to give Carl a squeeze to his shoulder. “Sure hope he’s your uncle on your dad’s side, at that. Go get ready by a cannon as I rally the forces here. If we’re gonna use the swivels, we gotta do it soon.”

“With me,” Carl mumbles to Laura as he jogs down from the helm. She’s already proven her aim once, and she’s fast becoming someone Carl thinks he can count on.

“Listen to Negan, obviously,” he tells her as they retrieve cannon balls and gunpowder, “but I want that ship dead in the water. If you have a good shot, take it.”

There’s a moment of scramble before Negan is at the helm balcony shouting out their plan. “Our goal is maximum damage as fast as possible! Avoiding boarding would be in our best interests.” He stations people on the swivel cannons at the front of the ship and the broadside normal cannons. “Use heavy shot when we’re kissing sides with The Huntress. Taking out their hull instead of their masts will be easier and sink her faster!”

He gives a few more commands, making sure people are in place and ready to go. There’s a cheer from the crew who are ready and willing to put their lives on the line for their ship and their captain. Dwight gives a salute from his spot near the front, ready to help the swivels. Negan’s heart aches at the brief thought of losing him or Carl to this fight, but he pushes it down and salutes Dwight back. They didn’t have room for distractions right now.

“When they’re in range, fire the swivels!”

“Would’ve been nice t’ have our masks for this,” Laura comments, shoving a lighter cannonball into the cannon with a grunt.

“No,” Carl shakes his head, cutting a wick. “I want Admiral Walsh to see my face as he goes down.”

The blonde quirks a brow at him before putting her weight into shifting the cannon. “Personal stake?”

“Let’s just say, no one better try and get between us,” Carl says, squinting at The Huntress. “She’s almost in range. Get ready.”

It’s Dwight’s voice that shouts out, “Fire!” before the smaller swivel cannons at the front tip of the ship go off. The balls hit their marks near the deck of The Huntress. If anything they’ve definitely hit the captain’s cabin.

“Reload! Fire when ready!”

The wind is on their side, pushing them towards The Huntress faster than the other way around. If they survive long enough, there’s a possibility of them even making a hard turn and getting behind The Huntress.

But that all depends on how the parallel fighting goes, Negan thinks, watching the navy crew scrambling through his spyglass.

“Think you can hit their helmsman?” Carl questions, pointing towards the man before lifting up the powder barrel.

Laura squints, hands trembling with anticipation as she feeds the cannon another lead ball. “I can try. You want him dead or you want the wheel gone?”

“I want them unable to steer away,” Carl tells her grimly.

“Means they won’t be able to retreat,” Laura notes as he cuts a new wick.

“That’s the point, is it not?”

The boom from the swivels goes off again, one ball splashing uselessly into the water, but the others hitting. It seems like someone loaded in a chain shot into one of them, the twin balls twirling through the air and taking out a smaller mast.

“Get ready!” Negan shouts, watching the distance between the two ships close. He can hear the navy men yelling now, watching them run about to ready their cannons and grappling hooks.

“Fire at will!”

Laura fires and her shot rings true, shattering the wheel and turning the helmsman’s torso into ground meat. “Holy hell,” she gasps next to Carl, disbelieving.

Carl giggles, shoving his hand against her shoulder to shake her out of it. “Oh, I’m telling Cook we’re doing a special request for you, that was beautiful!”

Laura lurches towards one of the heavy balls, hefting it in her arms as quickly as she can. “We need to hit down, fill their ship with water. We won’t have many chances when they manage to board.”

“I have your back,” Carl squeezes her shoulder, before helping her ready the cannon once more.

“Excellent shots!” Negan shouts, grinning as he watches the carnage from above. Along with the wheel, it looks like another mast has been taken, though a large sail is holding it up.

He’s still debating with himself about what he wants to do. He’ll fight if he has too, of course, but he’s hoping they can take most of the navy men down with cannons and guns. His shoulder is still sore from the merchant boat fight when he really shouldn’t have used his sword but did. His best bet is to stay aboard the Lucille and let them come to him.

“Keep firing! Take them down! Cut their lines when they try to hook up!”

“I have your back,” Carl reminds Laura as he shifts to stand, drawing his sword, “but that doesn’t mean you need to have mine.”

“What? Master Carl, I’m not gonna-” Laura’s frizzy blond hair gets streaked in soot and gunpowder as she shoves loose strands behind her ear to look up at him. She cuts herself off when she sees the look on his face.

“They start boarding, I want you to get up to Peter and give us back up fire,” Carl tells her. There’s a musket up there, maybe two if he remembers properly.

Before she can answer, a hook comes careening over the rails next to them and Carl lurches forward. It’s not Shane on the other end. Carl cuts the line, grabbing the hook for safekeeping and hooking it on his belt.

The Lucille shakes with the force of her cannons firing as well as The Huntress’, the ships trading metal. Negan gives a brief thought to their pillaged rum getting shot out if they managed to hit their storage area, glad they got to drink what they had of it.

He pulls a small knife from his belt and makes his way down from the helm, cutting lines as he goes as relishing in the way the men attached to them scream as they fall to the water below.

The two ships are almost perfectly parallel with each other when another round of cannonballs go flying. He ducks under one that hits one of their masts, but watches as most of their heavy shots sink into the belly of The Huntress. Good.

Carl can see Shane now, boiling mad as he commands his men. He used to think the man was handsome in his uniform, used to think he was charming. Carl bets that’s what his mother thought as well.

As much as Carl wants to get his knife in Shane’s ribs, he isn’t going to board a sinking ship to do it. They’ve been lucky thus far and if he has to settle with watching the man drown he will. It doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen though, because Shane sees him too, face morphing briefly to something incredulous.

Carl’s attention is briefly taken by a shout from the front of the ship and he looks to find they’re being boarded where the men weren’t fast enough to cut the navy’s lines. Gripping his sword tighter, he looks down at Laura, taking aim once more. “After that one I want you on the helm with Peter, got me?”

She lights the wick, pushing away from the canon with a sloppy salute in his direction. “Don’t die! You owe me meat and potato pie!”

Things are a flurry once the navy men board.

Negan’s wielding his sword in his non-dominant hand and shooting with his other, preferring to kick out at men and push them over the edge when he can. He’s trying to make his way to Dwight who is still at the front and fighting off his own assailants, but can’t seem to make it off the main deck.

He finds Carl in the fray, going to him and defending his back. “You find your uncle?” he calls over the clamor.

“He’s seen me. He'll come,” Carl says, shoving the dagger in his offhand into a navy man's throat. He kicks the croaking man off the end of his knife sending him stumbling back and overboard.

“Let’s get to, Master Dwight, yes?” Carl asks, blocking Negan’s injured side and whirling out to face the captain’s would-be attacker.

“That’s where I was headed,” Negan says, glancing around and making sure Dwight is still where he left him. “C’mon. Up, up, up.”

Negan pushes through to the front, tripping men into Carl’s blades as they go. They make a good team, dancing around each other.

Carl’s pilfered grappling hook ends up pierced upwards through the roof of some navy man's mouth who tried to get his dagger out of his hand. The hook stays but the dagger finds home in his palm once more as he lifts his rapier to block another sword. His arm falters a bit under the weight of the blow, but that’s what you get for going against the man who taught you how to fight in the first place.

“Carlton, your mother has been worried about you, boy! You quit this shit so-"

Carl doesn’t let him finish, twisting their blades and shoving forward with an enraged shout. Shane doesn’t deserve his words, and he never did, he gets his blade instead.

Shane’s cutlass meets his rapier blow for blow, blocking and parrying as elegantly as ever. They’re well matched in this regard, but the admiral has more experience.

“Taking up with pirates?” Shane tuts, narrowly avoiding getting his arm sliced open. “Taking up with Negan Morgan of all water rats?”

“Captain,” Carl hisses, throwing his offhand up to catch a sword from some other idiot navy man against the blade. “Captain Negan Morgan.”

He pivots, shoving his dagger into the other navy man's arm, twisting around to use him as a human shield for one of Shane’s instinctive blows. “Don’t tell me you learn respect now, boy, for a washed up sea dog!”

“Think you’re just jealous, Walsh,” Negan yells with a cackle, purposefully leaving out the Admiral’s title as he spins away to finally meet up with Dwight. They go back to back simultaneously kicking out at two navy men and sending them over the edge with screams.

“He called me ‘Captain’, Dwight! Did you hear him?” Negan’s grin is huge, breath coming fast from the fighting.

“I didn’t, but I believe it, sir. Please, stay focused.”

“I’m focused. I’m focused. C’mon.”

Both men make their way back to Carl, protecting his back and side while leaving Shane for Carl to handle. They’re ready to step in if the Admiral gets a good blow in, but they know when to let Carl fight.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Shane asks rhetorically, attention never swaying from Carl as they trample over the dead man between them. “Your mother makes you take your gloves off, so now you’re out whoring yourself to pirates?”

If Shane is trying to knock him off his game it’s having the opposite effect. Carl shifts, turning his body and sliding his dagger right as if he’s going to strike out with it, making the man’s gaze flick to it rather than his sword.

“Maybe I’m just following in her footsteps!” Carl says, voice accusatory.

Shane’s jaw spasms, hand flexing and he parries Carl’s blow, sloppily just as Negan’s back braces against Carl’s. Sacrificing his rapier to the cause, Carl reaches back, around the captain, and yanks one of his flintlocks from his waistband.

I really hope this one is loaded, Carl has time to think as he cocks it and levels it at the overbalanced Admiral’s head.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Shane snarls.

BANG!

“Oh good,” Carl says hollowly, whole body vibrating from the force of his blood rushing around under his skin. “It was loaded.”

“Holy fuck, kid! Good work!”

A few of the navy men who saw Shane’s body slump to the deck drop their weapons in surrender, coward enough to abandon their duty once their leader is gone. Dwight’s rushing to the balcony and shouting that the admiral is dead.

And then, it feels like everything goes still. The air grows tight, sounds of clanging swords go silent, hairs on the backs of necks rise.

It’s like, for just a second, the world pauses. Basks in the deeds that have been done.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

And then, it all comes rushing back like the snap of a string.

Carl sees it before he can really process it if he’s honest. The navy man that raises his sword to slash down at Dwight as the first mate passes must be an idiot or working purely off of instinct.

“Dwight!” The scream of warning rips out of him even as he barrels over Shane’s corpse. He trips and uses the momentum to twist and shove his back right up against Dwight’s, sending the other man tripping forward away from the navy man.

Burning hot pain slides down the right side of his face, red staining his vision, metal filling his mouth and clogging his nose. He strikes out wildly, forcing his dagger up and out until he meets the familiar resistance of skin and bone. The person he’s stabbed drops, taking Carl with him, and he stumbles to his knees, trying desperately to blink the red out of his eyes but it’s being taken over by black.

“Negan?” He reaches out, searching but he doesn’t find anything but the slick boards of Lucille’s deck.

The sound of thudding boots grows closer and suddenly there’s arms wrapping around Carl, familiar and welcome.

“Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Carl, look at me. Shit. You’re gonna be okay. It’s gonna be fine. Fuck.”

Negan tilts Carl onto his back as he holds him so he can study his blood covered face. It’s not a deep stab wound, but it’s a bad slash nonetheless.

Negan knows Carl’s right eye is fucked.

“Don… be sca… red,” Carl slurs, reaching out to touch Negan wherever he can. “‘S gon… be oh… kay.”

He’s pretty sure his right eye is out for the count, if the pain is anything to go by, but none of his thoughts are exactly linear right now. All he can really latch onto is making sure Negan and Dwight are fine. “Dwight?”

He doesn’t get to stay up long enough to hear the answer. He slumps into the captain like a sack of rocks.

“Carl? Carl?! Fuck! No, no. Stay with me.” Negan can’t help the way his throat clenches as he shakes the boy in his arms, trying to get him to wake to no avail. He knows logically Carl isn’t dead, probably just passed out from the pain, but, god, there’s so much blood. He’s so still, and there’s so much blood. No. No. Not again. I can’t lose another. Not again. Please. Please. There’s so much blood.

“Negan, is he…” Dwight falls to his knees next to him, shaken but uninjured. Negan’s head snaps over to Dwight, bringing him out of his thoughts. He shakes his head quickly and shifts Carl towards Dwight.

“He’s passed out, but he should be okay. Fuck. He needs his eye looked at, and I don’t want to leave him, but I…” He chokes as he looks around. It seems like most of the men have surrendered by now, those who haven’t getting thoroughly outnumbered.

“You have to finish this fight. I know,” Dwight says, taking Carl gently from Negan and smoothing some of his long hair away from his bloody cheek. “Go be Captain. I’ll get this one cleaned and set to bed. Might have to raid his salves.”

“Okay. Okay.” Negan gives Carl one last lingering look, saddened for him at the blood staining his new bandana. He takes a deep breath and nods, pulling himself together. “Okay.”

Chapter 20

Summary:

The damage has been done, and now the surgery must commence.

Notes:

T: Just a warning this chapter has some graphic descriptions about the loss and “surgery” for Carl’s eye. If that bothers you, you can *probably* skip this chapter and be okay but there is going to be socket play like we tagged coming up soon and it doesn’t really go away.

 

The dead got tossed overboard, some with more respect than others. The pirates had casualties, but not nearly as many as the navy men. Small blessings.

Of the surviving Navy crew, Negan offered them two options: a job aboard his ship or becoming shark food. One spat at his feet and declared that he’d never be loyal to a pirate.

“You’ll never be loyal to anyone anymore,” Negan said, pushing him over into the roiling waves.

The rest of the men joined on.

~

Dwight strips Negan’s bed before placing Carl down upon it, washing away the bloody skin around his wound with saltwater and a clean rag. It’s a nasty gash, but Carl should survive, granted he doesn’t get an infection. He’ll know what to put on it, once he wakes up.

Dwight can’t help the silent tears that fall as he works. “Thank you for saving me, lad,” he whispers, gently lifting Carl’s sliced eyelid to see the damage behind it. He gags softly and lets out a little sob. “‘M sorry it cost you this. One of your beautiful eyes.”

One of your beautiful eyes.

Carl surfaces long enough to hear that much. The pain in his face is debilitating, burning so deep he can feel it in his bones. He shifts, gasping wetly in anguish as he snatches at the air near Dwight’s voice.

His flailing hand is grabbed and he hisses, trying to open his eyes but he can’t. It hurts too much. “Take it out! Take it out! Don’t let it rot inside me!” He’s heaving with the effort, body heavy and exhausted. “It has to…. come out…” he slurs, already fading again.

His outburst leaves Dwight shaking, staring at Carl in horror and shock, the image of his eye rotting away invading Dwight’s imagination.

Holy hell.

~

Negan’s on his way to his cabin to check on Carl and Dwight when he’s stopped by one of the new recruits. “Hey, you guys have a medic on board?” he asks, looking around at the various pirates bandaging each other up.

“The closest thing to it is getting cleaned up in my room right now,” Negan says with a nod towards his cabin, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why?”

“The Grimes kid is a medic? Damn. Didn’t know that. He’s going to need more than just a cleanup though. I can help, if you’ll allow me.”

Negan waves his hand. “Wait, Grimes?”

“Yes?” The man says it like he’s reevaluating Negan’s intelligence. “Carlton Grimes? The kid I saw get carried in there with the mauled face.”

It wasn’t that bad, but okay. “Huh.”

“Did you not know that?”

“He never felt the need to share his surname apparently,” Negan says, then quickly shakes his head. “But, anyway. You say you can help? You a medic?”

“As close to it as I can be, sir.”

“Alright. What’s your name?”

“Carson, sir.”

“Come with me, Carson. And know that if you’re lying to me, or attempt to harm Carl in any way, you will find out the meaning to a fate worse than death.”

“Yes, sir.”

~

Kid has a good system, Carson thinks to himself as he picks through the Grimes boy’s shelves. Seems like along with being an amateur medic he’s also a soap artisan.

“Hidden layers,” he mumbles to himself, pulling from the carefully labeled salves. Carlton’s handwriting hasn’t gotten any better, but he’s sure stocked up on tea tree and eucalyptus salves which will do him well.

A few shelves down there’s also a rudimentary medical kit. He snatches that as well, turning to the pirate. “Alright, hopefully this will be all we need.”

Negan gives a nod and then leads the way back up and to his cabin.

They enter to a shaking Dwight, kneeled down on the floor beside the bed, Carl’s hand clenched in his. He looks over when they come in like he’s been spooked, relaxing a breath when he sees Negan.

“How’s he doing?” Negan asks, stepping over quickly, one eye still on Carson. Carl looks so pale, though his wound is bright red.

“He spoke,” Dwight says softly, standing up, though reluctant to let go of Carl.

“What did he say?”

Dwight bites his lip. “To take out his eye. Not to let it rot inside him.”

Negan grimaces. He can’t even imagine the pain Carl must be in right now, coupled with the idea of something in you going bad. Ugh.

He turns to Carson and waves him forward. “Dwight, this is Carson. He says he’s a medic. Carson, my first mate, Dwight.”

“I said I’m close to it,” Carson corrects but softly, coming to set the things he gathered from Carlton’s room on the foot of the bed. “Sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances, Sir Dwight.”

He hovers next to the bed, eyeing the gash in the boy’s face. He knows Carlton has survived a bullet. Admiral Walsh had liked to boast about it often and the evidence is clear as day on the boy’s bared torso. This is different, though, head wounds bleed more for one, as proven by the still oozing gash even though it’s clear the blond man has been tending to it.

“Grimes is right, we’ll need to extract the eye,” Carson tells the two men grimly. He ducks to flip open the lid of the boy’s medical kit, eyeing the contents. There’s tweezers, at least, a couple different sizes and shapes of scissors, and plenty of bandages in wax paper. Kid’s smart, Carson’ll give him that.

“Grimes?” Dwight asks Negan softly.

“Later,” he says, just as soft.

Carson takes the tweezers and the smallest set of scissors over to one of the candles, to heat the metal up and make sure it’s clean. “I’m going to need something to put the eye pieces in, and you’re going to have to hold him down, I'm sorry to say.”

“I can hold him,” Negan says with confidence as Dwight begins looking around the room. There’s a squat glass jar with a cork on a shelf nearby only half filled with little shark teeth. Dwight dumps them out into a nearby decorative box holding some of Negan’s rings and then brings the jar to Carson.

“Will this work?”

“You will have to hold it for me, and hand me things.” Carson nods. “It feels wrong to throw it on the floor, I’m sure you understand.”

“I understand.”

Carson points the captain towards the boy on the bed. “You’re going to want to hold his arms and his head still. We don’t want him thrashing and making the injury worse.”

It feels shitty to talk about the kid like this but needs must, and if he gets emotional it’s not going to help Carlton in the least.

“Got it,” Negan says, taking in a deep breath. He lets it out and then goes about removing his coat and his cumbersome weapons, not wanting to risk anything getting in the way if Carl manages to flail just right.

He slips his boots off last and then climbs into the bed. This isn’t how he saw himself straddling Carl for the first time, but it’s the only way he can think to hold both his arms and his head. He pins Carl’s arms to his sides with his knees, squeezing tight, and reaches out to slide his hands under Carl’s jaw, gripping his face and head.

God, has Carl always been so small?

“Okay, I’m ready when you are, doc.”

Carson rounds the first mate, kneeling as stable as he can next to Carlton’s head. He lowers the tweezers, hovering, and takes a breath, looking up to meet his new captain’s gaze.

“I promise you, I’m not hurting him out of malice,” he tells the man before focusing back on Grimes.

“I know,” Negan replies, bracing for the worst.

The first wail Carlton lets out is heart wrenching, making Carson’s whole gut twist up like a knot, but he needs to get the bigger parts out first and they’re barely hanging on. Carson is careful with his scissors, separating the largest piece and dropping it in the jar. If he hadn’t been at sea so many years, the sight alone would make him sick.

It almost makes Dwight sick, if the way he gags is any indication, but he keeps his hand steady with the jar nonetheless.

“Maybe two more pieces,” Carson tells the man over the boy’s ragged panting. “But we need to clear away the blood if we’re going to do that, so I need you to soak it up, alright?”

“I can do that,” Dwight says with a nod, setting the jar down to grab a clean rag. Blood, he can do. It’s the gore. The knowledge that a part of Carl is now not a part of him.

Dwight shakes the idea out of his head and quickly begins soaking up the blood as well as he can.

Meanwhile Negan is above Carl, holding him as gently and as tightly as he can. Comfort words are spewing out of him, nonstop murmurs that he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking out loud. “Shh. Shh. It’s okay. You’re doing great. It’s okay, Carl. I got you. I got you. Dwight has you. It’s okay. Shh. You’re gonna be okay. I know. I know. Shh.”

“Alright, gentlemen,” Carson says, bracing himself. “Second piece.”

He waits for the blond man to hold the jar back up again and doesn’t comment on the way Dwight averts his eyes. He isn’t in the business of making people suffer their weaknesses.

The second chunk of messed up eyeball isn’t as easy as the first, but Carlton is almost warily quiet, hissing sharply as Carson cuts it off and drops it in the jar.

The third and last is the trouble, it’s the most dangerous, the piece with all the nerves. His own eyes burn with tears he can’t shed as he pulls the mangled bit forward, and Carlton screams bloody murder. His scissors are quick, and he drops both the scissors and the tweezers in the jar with the last bit, taking the bloody cloth.

“We need to stop the bleeding,” he tells them once Grimes is back to breathing heavily. “I can’t stitch the cut or assess the socket until then, but for now you should be able to let go.”

Negan nods and lets up, thumbing away the tears that spill from Carl’s good eye. He so desperately wants to lean in and press a kiss to Carl’s head, but doesn’t know how Carson will react if he does. Navy sensibilities and all.

He climbs off, sitting instead on the edge of the bed and taking Carl’s hand in his. “It’s okay now, Carl. It’s gonna be okay.”

Dwight is busy holding out clean bandages to Carson and taking the ones soaked in blood, mind on autopilot as he helps how he can.

It takes a while for the blood to taper down enough to see what he’s working with, but when it does Carson is quick about it, not wanting to cause Carlton any undue extended pain.

“I am going to have to stitch the cut,” he sighs, digging through Grimes’ medical box for a stitch kit. “We don’t want to close up the socket because it needs to be checked, so we’re going to fill it with a small wad of this clean bandaging he has in here.”

He does as he said he would do, stitching Carlton up and filling the socket. The boy barely grunts or shifts the entire time, energy having been expunged with the extraction. When he’s done and Carlton is all wrapped up, he pats the boy’s hand and turns to the two pirates.

“Wound that traumatic, he’s going to have fevers,” he tells them. “I highly doubt he will be up or cognizant for a couple of days. We’re going to want to change his bandages every day whether or not he bleeds through, and rub one of those oils I brought on the wound.”

Dwight and Negan nod, serious furrows to their brows. They won’t rest until Carl is back on his feet.

“Thank you,” Negan says, looking to Carl. “I know you did it because you know Carl and not because of any loyalty to me, but I still want to thank you on my behalf.”

“Aye, mine too,” Dwight says, wiping off his hands with a damp rag.

Carson waves a hand. “Carlton is a good kid. He helped keep me on the straight and narrow after my wife died.”

He looks past the two men to the bed where the boy is already starting to perspire. “I’ll always be more loyal to that boy than I was to Admiral Walsh.”

“Good to know.” Negan smiles softly before sighing. “Would you be opposed to checking on the rest of the ship? Make sure no one else is dying?”

“I’ll go with you,” Dwight says, knowing their men might not trust a navy man offering help so soon after a fight.

“Best to probably,” Carson acknowledges, scratching at his jaw. “May set a place in the brig until Boy-o wakes up. We’ve bunked in the past, and it will put me close to his medicines if someone crops up with a nasty surprise.”

He’s well aware he doesn’t have friends among the crew yet and his navy-mates likely won’t take kindly to him fixing up the boy who killed their boss. He knows most of the survivors weren’t folks who were aboard The Huntress at the same time as Carlton.

“Sure.” Negan reaches out and grabs Carson’s shoulder, making heavy eye contact. “I’m putting my trust in you because of what you’ve done here. Don’t make me regret it.”

“He’s loyal to you, I’m loyal to you.” Carson doesn’t flinch away from the stare, only pointing past the pirate at Carlton. “Only reason I was serving on The Huntress is because Carlton Grimes wasn’t a Commodore yet.”

Negan’s face breaks into a grin, the image of Commodore Carl flashing through his mind. Who would have known he’d make a better pirate? “Good, man.” With one last squeeze, Negan lets Carson go and waves towards the door. “Go on then. I’ll take first watch.”

Negan picks up a clean rag as Dwight and Carson leave, settling on the edge of the bed near Carl’s head. He sighs and dabs away the sweat beading on his forehead.

“Oh, baby boy… You didn’t deserve this. None of this. You’re such a fighter though. You’ll fight this. You’ll win. I know you will. It’s gonna be okay.”

He presses a kiss to Carl’s forehead and hums his soft, sad, lullaby he used to soothe the boy before.

~

They take turns sitting with Carl over the next few days.

Dabbing his sweat away, changing his bandages, wetting his lips with rum in leu of clean water. Most of the time Carl is silent and still, looking pale and so small in Negan’s bed. The other moments have him writhing with pain and fever, mumbling out disjointed words and phrases. Notably, his family’s names, the pirate’s names, and a repeated mumble of, “Don’t turn around.”

Negan’s unsure what Carl’s trying to say, so trapped in his mind as he is.

Most of the crew come through to visit during the days, groups of two or three men wanting to help where they can. Laura and Arat even spend a night on the cabin floor. The whole situation really makes Negan’s heart bleed, and he’s not even sure if Carl will believe him when he wakes up.

Chapter 21

 

Dwight and Negan are sitting on the floor, slumped against the bed, sleeping from pure exhaustion more than anything. Carson is nodding away in the chair Carl usually sits in for meals, only slightly more comfortable than the pirates.

This is the sight that greets Carl when, for the first time, he opens his eye unhindered by the fog of fever.

The pain in his face is a dull, radiating ache and he tries not to grimace because it seems to only make the pain worse. Head full of lead, he attempts to sit up and chokes down the roiling nausea that builds behind his teeth. His memory of what happened is frighteningly clear, just as it was when he was shot.

It takes a long few moments before his eyes… eye adjusts. The light in the room is dim, only the tiniest first dredges of dawn coming through the window. It’s enough to illuminate the three men in the room with him: two foolish worriers on the floor of all places, and an old friend in Carl’s usual chair.

His dagger has been sheathed and carefully laid next to his pillow. There’s a tray on the foot of the bed, tankard balanced next to his medical kit. He grabs the handle of the mug first taking a careful sip and finding it to be rum. It’s enough to soothe his parched throat at least.

He knows that he should wake the men, but he needs a moment without them hovering worriedly. Taking up his dagger, he pulls it out of the sheath, staring at his semi-distorted reflection in the blade. He unwraps the bandages with one hand, piling them in his lap, and stares hard at his face.

The scar starts all the way above his brow and ends past his cheekbone barely a finger or two from the side of his mouth. It explains why grimacing hurts so much. He wonders if it will hinder his speech at all.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid,” he sings softly, finding it does hurt, but not as sharply as his grimace. He tries the next line more out of the left side of his mouth, “I disdain all glittering gold.”

That’s much better actually. Carl continues as he pulls at the wad of bandages they’ve packed into his eye. “There is nothing can console me.” He takes a shuddering breath as he eyes his full visage in the blade of his knife. “But my jolly sailor bold.”

“Didn’t know we had a mermaid on this ship,” Negan mumbles, his head tilting back to rest on the mattress near Carl’s ankle. He blinks tiredly up at him and smiles, though it falls slightly when he sees the wound uncovered. “Nice to see you awake, Carl.”

Carl looks away from the blade with enough time to see Negan’s face fall. He grimaces and a twinge of pain shoots up the side of his face.

“I was awake some… I think,” Carl says out of the left of his mouth, reaching out to flip open his medical kit to retrieve some clean bandages to pack into his socket. His wrappings are still clean enough that he should be able to put them back on. “Told you not to go back to The Kingdom for me.”

“Is that what you meant?” Negan laughs softly, sitting up straighter. “I couldn’t tell what was dreams and what wasn’t.”

He shifts up onto the bed, taking the bandages gently from Carl and reaching up to take his chin in hand and tilt his head back. “I did have the thought to go back to The Kingdom, but we’re so far out. We wouldn’t even be there by now, and you’re already awake, so…” He shrugs and starts packing the bandages into Carl’s socket.

“Plus, one of our… new recruits knew a lick or two about medicine, so I felt pretty confident.”

“Carson’s wife was a midwife,” Carl supplies before he cuts off with a gasp, reaching up to grasp Negan’s wrist. The sensation of having something pushed inside of his face should be only painful but it’s not. It’s also foreign, and unsurprisingly very intimate.

The sensation sends sparks of pain and something else, something darker, radiating from that point all the way down his spine. Carl swallows, prying his fingers away from Negan’s arm. “My apologies.”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Negan says, trying to work faster but also softer. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I’m used to doing this when you couldn’t talk back.”

“No,” Carl says, almost breathless, “It’s fine, I’m… fine.”

Negan lets out a breath of a laugh as he pulls back and picks up the two oils they left near the kit. “These are what Carson chose for your wound. I let him pick around your stuff.”

Carl takes the oils, grateful to have something to focus on. “They’re both good for fighting infections and keeping rot off wounds,” he supplies, holding them up next to each other to judge which one has more. Finding the eucalyptus has more, he passes the tea tree back and pops the cork on the first getting ready to dress his face with it.

“Can I?” Negan asks, his voice soft and a little desperate, hands reaching to help. He just wants to help. Wants to make sure the people he loves are alright.

“This has really messed you up, huh?” Carl questions softly, holding the vial of eucalyptus out toward the captain.

Negan breathes out his little laugh again, relaxing slightly with the permission to help. He reaches up first to cup Carl’s good side in his palm, running his thumb under his beautiful blue remaining eye. “I’ve been messed up, baby. This is just… I need to know that I’ve helped in every way I can. It’ll just eat at me if I think I could have done more and didn’t.”

“You know I don’t regret doing it right? And that it doesn’t indebt either of you to me?” Carl asks, but it’s more rhetorical than anything. Negan’s touch is gentle but it doesn’t take away the ache from his face or the dull burn of the cleansing oil. “Making sure Dwight can still walk is worth more than the loss of an eye.”

“Aye, and we will thank you forever for your brave deed,” Negan says, being as careful as he can in his application, trailing down Carl’s cheek. “We will all mourn the loss of one of your beautiful sapphire eyes.

“But, this?” He gestures with the hand holding the vial of oil. “This is just selfish. I like knowing that I helped you heal. That one day you’ll be on your feet fighting again, and I’ll have helped get you there.” He smiles, a little spark of emotion in his eyes. “I care for you, Carl. Dwight cares for you. Hell, the whole crew does. You had so many visitors.” He sets the jar down and picks up the long bandages, starting to wrap them around the wound again. “But, I get to know that I helped you. For my own piece of mind.” He secures the bandages and leans in to drop a soft kiss on Carl’s forehead. “Just don’t die on me, or I’ll blame myself forever, savvy?”

“Yes, well,” Carl huffs, leaning back after a second. “Perhaps we can find me a real sapphire to replace it,” he jokes thinly.

Always with the shiny things, Negan thinks with a smile.

He cannot tell Negan how displeased he is that so many people are putting so much stock into whether he lives and dies. Instead he settles on a truth. “I care for you all, too.”

Averting his gaze to where Dwight is slumped against the bed, he reaches out and gently touches the man’s blond hair. “Which means I didn’t save your back for you to ruin it laying on the floor. Wake up, dear heart.”

“Mm, ‘m awake,” Dwight mumbles, twitching up at the touch. He rubs at his face for a moment before looking up and realizing who woke him with a gasp. “Carl?”

Pulling himself up onto the bed, practically in Negan’s lap, Dwight hovers his hands all around Carl before finally settling one on his shoulder and the other on the unharmed side of his face. “Oh, my dear boy. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got an eye cut out,” Carl says almost cheerfully under the weight of Dwight’s attention. He grins and it’s a horrible crooked thing, pulled up to one side because the other side hurts terribly and his face muscles aren’t working the way they used to.

“Starving, also,” he tacks on after a few seconds, realizing very abruptly that they might be taking this harder than he seems to be.

Negan wraps his arms around Dwight and hooks his chin over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go get some food, okay? I changed his bandages already, so he’s good to go for a couple hours.”

“Okay.”

Dwight sighs, watching Negan make his way out. He notices Carson still asleep in the chair before looking back to Carl with a soft smile. “You’ve been out for days. Do you remember anything?”

“Well everything but what happened when I was out,” Carl answers with an easy smile. He lifts the pillow he had been resting on and squints towards Carson.

He knows that his aim is going to be off, perception all messed up from missing an eye. He attempts to pretend he’s closing one eye, making up the difference, and throws the pillow at Carson. It seems he’s over-correcting because the pillow hits the desk and flops over in the former navy man’s lap.

Carson shoots up, pillow fisted in his hands as he turns his half-asleep gaze to the bed. He blinks furiously and then smiles. It’s not a handsome smile but most definitely a familiar one. “Welcome back, boy-o.”

Carl laughs. “Welcome to The Lucille, Sonny. Glad to see you.”

“With what eyes you have left.” The navy man brings the pillow over and drops it in the bed. “Good to see you awake.”

Dwight takes the pillow and dutifully tucks it back behind Carl. “It’s a good thing Mr. Carson here can fight as well as he can heal,” he says. “Couldn’t imagine what we’d done if he hadn’t been here to help.”

“You would have figured it out,” Carl says with a wave of his hand. “Besides, Carson is one of mine. He would have been fine.”

“Master Carlton is very stab happy. It keeps you alert,” Carson provides.

Wrinkling his nose, Carl looks over at the man. “You’ve met Laura.”

“I have. Quite the young woman,” the ex-navy man says, voice pleasant.

“Yes, her and Arat spent a night with you,” Dwight says with a smile, gently holding onto Carl’s wrist like he needs the reassurance that Carl’s really there. “Kept good watch over you. Made Negan and I take their hammocks so we could get some decent sleep.”

“You know I think I would remember a night such as that,” Carl says, unthinkingly lecherous just as Negan walks back into the room wielding their usual tray.

Carson lets out a wheezy laugh, reaching down to squeeze his shoulder. “Comments like those, boy-o, are why you never got caught out.”

Carl gawks up at the man for a moment before shoving him hard in the side. “You are the worst, Carson. You could have told me. How did you even know?”

“Well if I didn’t before,” Carson says, recovering from the shove far too easily for Carl’s liking, “then I certainly would have known with how these two acted by your sickbed.”

Carl’s face flames, and not just from pain.

Dwight looks rather like he’s got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, glancing away with a soft blush on his cheeks. “Yes, well.”

“Hope that’s not a problem for you, Mr. Carson,” Negan says, setting down the tray at the foot of the bed. There’s a fourth setting added to it that Negan hands to Carson with a raise of his eyebrow only after Carl and Dwight get theirs.

“My thanks,” Carson says, taking his food. “I’ve told you before, Captain Negan, I’m loyal to Master Carlton. Always have been. His choice in bed partner could not be less my business.”

“You two are horrible,” Carl sighs, digging into his porridge. He’s glad for something so soft and easy to eat because chewing is different with stitches in his face. “Thank you for the food.”

“My pleasure, Carl. If you want more, just say the word, though now that Cook knows you’re awake, he may just show up with more himself,” Negan says with a laugh, digging into his own breakfast.

“I can’t get used to the Carlton. It’s just not right,” Dwight says suddenly with a laugh.

“It’s his name,” Carson points out incredulously. Carl ignores them both because there is very little way to get Carson to address him any other way and while he isn’t a huge fan of his name it would almost feel weird if Carson didn’t call him that.

“I’d love to visit him instead,” Carl comments. He knows he can’t be above deck much while he’s getting used to his new perception, but he’ll be bored to death if he just has to heal in this bed. “Speaking of, where are my clothes?”

“Oh, well…” Dwight pulls a grimace. “Most of your stuff is waiting over on the dresser for you, but the blood wasn’t coming out of your shirt or the fabric you had on your head. We tried our best.”

“We still have them, thinking maybe one of your soaps might help, but we weren’t sure which. You can have them, but if you want fresh, dig through my drawers,” Negan says, though he rests a heavy hand on Carl’s leg. “But, not right now. I don’t want you up until you’ve eaten and been awake for more than a few minutes.”

“You worry too much,” Carl notes, but very clearly continues to eat rather than hopping up to assess his clothes.

“I highly doubt anything is going to get blood out of the fabric of my vest and shirt considering how light they are,” he says after a moment of eating. “I suppose if you’re going to be babying me, I can wear some of my less sensible clothes.”

“Just don’t want you over exerting yourself out the gate, alright,” Negan says with a huff. “Just take things easy for a few days, and let us know if you’re in more pain than what should be normal.”

“What’s more than should be normal?” Carl asks, glancing to Carson for assistance.

“Personally, boy-o, I don’t think you’re allowed to set that indicator considering your semi-constant abdominal pain,” Carson points out, settling his empty bowl on the tray.

“Hm,” Carl voices, “maybe a scale of some sort then. What amount of pain is worth being bored to death in bed?”

Carson gives him a quelling look.

Negan and Dwight aren’t much better.

“What do you feel like right now?” Dwight asks, his eyes flicking to Carl's torso, obviously worried about that now.

Carl attempts to think as he scrapes together the last dregs of his porridge.

“Half my face is on fire, and if I talk or move my face wrong it’s piercing,” he acknowledges idly. It’s certainly different from the low level throb he gets most of the time in his torso and the stitch he gets in his side when he’s running. It’s worse now, but once he grows used to it and the stitches come out he assumes it will settle.

“But to be terribly honest with you,” Carl says lightly, putting his empty bowl next to Carson’s, “my near violent craving for fresh bread seems worse.”

Carson heaves a sigh. “Why is it, that every time you get hurt, all you can think about is food?”

“Maybe his body knows the food will help heal it?” Negan says, studying Carl like he’s trying to peel away his skin and see what makes him tick.

Dwight just sighs and shakes his head. It’s obvious Carl has some weird pain tolerance that they can’t compare to. “Carl, just… Please try to rest. Eat and rest. For our sakes, okay?” He reaches out and smooths his fingers over the back of Carl’s hand to his wrist, squeezing there softly.

“Dear heart,” Carl says, grabbing Dwight’s hand and squeezing it against his arm, “I can rest just as well sat all cushy in the galley cutting carrots.”

Sitting in bed doing nothing sounds like its own personal brand of torture.

Dwight sighs and nods. “I suppose.”

“Probably good for him to practice with a knife like that,” Negan says. “It’s relatively safe, and will help him learn how to adjust to just one eye. Know a couple blokes who’ve lost an eye, and they say their balance and aim were the worst things to get used to.”

“Aim and balance will be difficult. I already know,” Carl agrees, attempting to hold in his grimace because he doesn’t want to make his face hurt worse. “But everything I do with knives is muscle memory. I can do it frontwards backwards and half-asleep.”

To prove his point he grabs his dagger once more, sliding it out its sheath. He looks at Dwight rather than his own hand as he begins twisting it through his fingers to twirl it across the back of his hand and start all over again.

“I’m much more concerned for my swordplay and marksmanship,” he confides, looking up to Negan.

“You’re a quick learner,” Carson says, but not without a certain graveness in his voice. “If anyone can relearn, it’s you, Master Carlton.”

“I can help with swordplay,” Negan says with a grinning smirk and a bounce to his eyebrows that gives away exactly what swords he’s thinking about. Dwight hits him in the chest and makes him laugh. “Really though. I can help. My sword shoulder could probably use the practice to help stretch it out.” He rolls his right shoulder, feeling the almost healed muscles pull tight.

“Sounds good,” Carl decides, chomping at the bit already to get his hands on his rapier again. “Of course, I’ll defer to Master Dwight on when I’ll be able to start.”

Dwight rolls his eyes but runs the back of his hand down the unhurt side of Carl’s face with a smile. “You can start when I know you’re able to move about normally and not fall on your own sword.”

“Well, I should get to walking then, no?” Carl says, drumming his hands on the mattress. “How else am I going to convince Cook to make bread?”

“Been out for days and lost an eye, but he’s awake for minutes and ready to go,” Dwight shakes his head good naturedly. “Alright. Alright. Come on. Let me help you up and get you dressed.”

He stands up and turns to face Carl, holding out both hands for him to grab.

“If you think you’re going to embarrass me into staying in bed, you’re wrong,” Carl says, shoving his beloathed blanket off and twisting his legs over the side of the bed. “Every man in this room has seen me naked.”

Carson groans and shoves a hand over his face.

Carl takes Dwight’s hands and tugs himself up, swaying slightly as he gets to his feet. His center of balance is definitely off, and he’s dizzy which doesn’t happen often. “Yes, I will be needing more food. Apologies for that.”

“It’s fine, hun. Take it slow,” Dwight says, gripping his hands to try and stabilize him more. Negan comes up next to Carl and puts a gentle hand to his waist to help. “A rocking ship probably isn’t the best place to regain your balance, but not much we can do about that.”

“Psh,” Carl huffs, using their helping hands so that he can roll up on his toes and pop his ankles. Rotating his shoulders, he settles unsteadily back to his heels. “It’s a perfect place. It’ll keep me on my toes.”

He takes a few steps helped by the two pirates, trying not to push or unbalance them all. “I’ll put on my old clothes, and then Carson can take me down to the brig to get new ones and drop me off with Cook.” He gives the two men a soft look. “I’m sure there’s a hundred things that the two of you need to get done after toiling at my bedside for several days.”

“When we weren’t toiling, we were fixing the ship,” Negan says, now behind Carl as they make their way to the dresser a step at a time. “But our minds were always, and will still be always, on you and your recovery.”

“Well thank goodness for that,” Carl breathes mostly under his breath. He knows his face is starting to twitch and spasm from how much he’s been speaking but he graciously ignores it. “It would have made me feel worse to know something went wrong because I went and got myself hurt.”

He leans against the dresser when they get there, plucking at the shirt and trousers. “Just these. Carson will help me carry the rest, yes?”

“Yes, of course,” Carson confirms.

Dwight grabs the shirt, helping to get it over Carl’s head without touching his face. He’s frowning softly, but doesn’t voice his concerns, instead helping hold Carl steady while Negan works his trousers over his feet and then up his legs.

“You sure you feel alright?” Negan asks, petting his hand gently down the back of Carl’s head.

“I feel like I got my eye cut out,” he repeats, patting the captain’s chest after he gets his hands through the sleeves. “But I’m not going to start feeling better laying in bed feeling sorry for myself.”

He gives his best smile, feels how it falls short on his right side, and tries not to flinch. “We all have ways, and we both know mine has never been sitting down and being still.”

“Gonna give us both gray hairs, kid,” Negan says, rubbing at his face.

“Just promise to call for someone to bring you back to bed the moment you feel tired,” Dwight says, smoothing down Carl’s shirt and fidgeting with the hem.

“I will, don’t worry,” Carl says, pushing off of the dresser as Carson comes over to collect him and his things. “I’m sure if I start flagging, Cook will bring me back himself.”

“Okay. Yeah. Good.”

Dwight lets Carson take his place so he can go hold the door open for them. Negan stays behind Carl until they’ve stepped out of the cabin, Dwight standing next to him looking like two worried parents.

“I will be fine,” Carl tells them, only half leaning into Carson, “and I promise to lay down when I need it.”

They split from the hovering pirates on deck, making their way down into the brig. Carson makes him lean against the shelves when they’re firmly in the brig. “You’re too pleasant.”

“I’m too pleasant? What does that mean?” He points at one of the boxes at the very bottom of his shelves. “Hand me that.”

“No one who just had their eye cut out is this pleasant after, least of all the grumpiest young man I know.” Carson ducks to pull out the crate as Carl tugs his blood stained shirt off.

“Call it personal growth,” Carl huffs, and hisses in pain when he emotes too sharply. He sighs, unlatching his pants and kicking them off. He sighs, pulling his stockings from the pile. “I’m going to need your help with these.”

It’s not much of a struggle to get the stockings on with Carson’s help. By the time he shrugs his new shirt on Carson is raising his brows. “This is… different.”

“I don’t have that many clothes,” Carl diverts, grabbing black waist stays from the crate. They’re front lace, and when he starts fumbling with the ties, Carson reaches out to help.

“You aren’t worried how they’ll take these clothes?” Carson questions, oddly without a single ounce of judgment.

Carl grabs the golden skirt. “I just killed my uncle and got my eye cut out, I think I’m allowed a little…” he pauses looking for the word.

“Flamboyance?” Carson offers, holding his arms out on either side of Carl in case he falls putting on the skirt.

“Exuberance,” Carl decides on, tightening the skirt at his waist. He wiggles one foot out at Carson. “Help me with my boots while I put on all my fixings.”

“I’m with you, you know,” Carson says, kneeling to help with Carl’s shoes. “If this is you trying to scare me away.”

Carl feels steadier with all his jewelry on and his blades at his waist but only just. He still sighs as Carson stands up and reaches out, pulling the man into a hug. “Thank you, Carson.”

When they come back out of the brig, there’s a small crowd of crewmen waiting for them. Waiting for Carl.

“We saw ye walk out! Glad to see you awake again!” Peter says, smiling wide at Carl. There’s a murmur of agreement through the crowd, multiple people waving at Carl in happiness. “You need anything, you just ask, a’right? We’ll help ye however we can.”

“Thank you, Peter,” Carl says, smiling as best he can at their helmsman.

Not another step forward and Laura is throwing herself in his arms. He catches her, but is only kept on his feet by Carson and Arat’s intervention. He hugs Laura back, more than a little surprised. “Don’t do that to us again.”

“She was right worried ‘bout ya, sir,” Arat says, clapping him on the shoulder.

Laura pulls back from the hug and she looks tired. It makes something pang in his chest.

“I won’t. After all, I don’t have anymore eyes to spare,” he says lightly.

In spite of herself, the blonde woman grins. “Cook is expecting you, and I’m expecting my meat and potato pie.”

Carson continues to help him down to the galley after that, looking a little less worried behind the eyes. He pauses when they’re practically in the kitchen, looking around and assessing the area before he drops Carl off in a chair that must have been brought to the counter for him.

“Eh, is that who I think it is?” comes Cook’s voice from the inner food storage. He pops out with a few ingredients in his hands, but they quickly get set down when he lays eyes on Carl. “Ah! Look at’cha! Alive and walkin’ about!” He goes to Carl and pats his head gently, smiling wide all the while.

“Like you ever doubted me,” Carl finds himself scoffing. He doesn’t try for a large smile, an uptick on the left side of his mouth is enough for Cook and his aching face would probably protest anyhow. “How about meat and potato pie for dinner?” He hums. “I’m craving something bready and I promised Laura before I went off and passed out.”

“Sounds good to me, bambino. A little special somethin’ to celebrate you waking up, eh?” Cook grins and heads back into the pantry to retrieve the required ingredients, getting everything set about.

He slides a tub of potatoes towards Carl and hands him his favorite peeling knife. “You alright to do this for me? Don’t push yourself none.”

“What’s that one mean?” Carl asks idly, already lifting the knife like it’s an old friend, the first knife to taste his blood in years. “Believe me when I say I’ll tell you if I tire,” he assures the man already lifting a potato in his hand. He twists it looking for the perfect spot to start his peel.

“Mm…” Cook gives him a glance over but knows he has to trust Carl because he won’t listen to anyone else but himself.

Busying himself with preparing the dough for the pie shell, Cook tilts his head. “Ah, bambino? It means ‘little one’, ‘child’, but can also be an endearment term. Nothin’ bad, I assure.” He chuckles, sending a wink to Carl.

Carl should be annoyed by that, but he’s not. He points the peeling knife at the man. “I’ll allow it, but only alone. Can’t have people going around thinking they can call me a child.”

Cook snorts a laugh and nods. “A’right.”

As they work, Cook keeps having Carl sample the things he’s making. ‘Does the meat need more spices? Do the potatoes need more salt?’ It’s a not very subtle way to make sure Carl is snacking throughout the day, a mug of drink next to him at all times as well.

Once half the pies are in the fire, the other half waiting their turn, Cook turns to Carl. “You gonna stay to help serve it out too?”

Carl feels bad to abandon the man now, fingers tapping at his watered down grog as he deliberates, but he is tired. “I might actually need someone to walk with me back to the captains cabin to make sure I don’t trip.”

Cook has kept an eye on him in the kitchen but there’s not much space to test out his balance here and he doesn’t quite trust it yet. “I don’t know where my energy went.”

“It went to your face, bambino,” Cook says with a gentle smile, coming over and offering his arm. He’s got the fire closed up, so it’ll be safe to leave it for a few minutes. “Your body is tryin’ ta heal itself. It don’t wanna use its energy for makin’ food. C’mon now. I’ll take ye up and bring ye a pie as soon as they done.”

“Oh, how gentlemanly,” Carl teases softly, keeping his mug in one hand as he takes the other man’s large arm. He’s using Cook mostly as a safety net, wanting to get used to moving about the ship as quickly as possible. “We both know if I laid around and did nothing I would go insane.”

“More than ye already are?” Cook teases back, keeping to Carl’s pace and letting him lean on or grab his arm when needed.

As they make it topside, multiple heads swivel over. Most out of concern for Carl, but some surprised to see Cook out from the kitchen. The man holds a hand up against the sun, blinking quickly. “Aye, ‘s bright out here.”

“Carl?” Negan’s voice comes from somewhere on Carl’s blindside, the captain appearing soon after. He’s topless, tinged pink over his normal tan from being in the sun, hair sweaty and pushed back. Whatever he’d been doing was labor intensive and probably not great for the wound still visible on his shoulder. “You doing okay, hun?”

“Just, er,” Carl drags his tongue over his lips, eyes- eye flicking over Negan’s bared torso. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before but it doesn’t make it any less eye drawing. “Needed some sun,” he continues, “and maybe a nap.”

He jostles his shoulder against Cook, pasting on a half-smile. “Figured I’d make him suffer the sun to escort me back to the cabin.”

“Alright. Good. Glad to see you not pushing yourself,” Negan says with a smile, his shoulders relaxing with a breath. He gently taps under Carl’s chin and then gestures to the cabin. “Go rest up. You need anything, just holler.”

“You worry too much,” Carl ends up saying. He tugs at Cook’s arm a little and they continue on their way. It’s not until he’s safely ensconced in the cabin that he realizes no one has said anything about his attire at all.

“Must be a pirate thing,” he notes under his breath. Maybe there’s a whole load of pirates out there that are wearing clothes not of their sex.

“This isn’t as fancy as I thought it’d be,” Cook says, looking about the cabin as he leads Carl to the bed. It’s been remade since the last time he’s seen it, new sheets and blankets covering it. “This looks nice though. Ye need any help gettin’ comfy, or shall I fuck off?” he asks with a playful smile.

“I will always enjoy your company,” Carl says, relinquishing his mug to the man as he sits heavily on the bed. “I do think you’ll be bored to death of just sitting and watching me take a nap, though.”

“Aye, I’ve got pies to get back to as well.” Cook rests his hand on Carl’s head for a moment before tapping his nose. “Sleep well, bambino. You’re well cared for here.” He smiles before heading out, waving before the door closes behind him.

Carl lets out a breath, kicking his shoes off and pulling off all his jewelry. He drops it all in one of his boots and leans his rapier and dagger against the bed making himself comfortable. Arms folded and ankles crossed, he settles on his usual pillow and closes his eye.

Over the course of the day he’s gotten used to the burning pain in his face. He focuses now instead on the warm sun slashing across his body through the windows and drifts to sleep.

 

~

 

Carl’s Outfit Inspo Chaps 21 - 30

Chapter 22

Summary:

Negan and Carl spend the night together and find out just how sensitive Carl’s wound is.

Notes:

R: We are officially at the half way point!! 11 more weeks and the whole fic will be posted yaaaay!

T: Guys it’s socket play! Socket play, guys! Guys I’m so excited! Guys trigger warning! ✨Socket Play✨

⚠️ Socket play is in this chapter

“Should we wake him?”

“I don’t want to. He willingly took a nap.”

“Yeah, but at this rate he’ll wake up in the middle of the night starving, and at least right now his pie is warm.”

“I guess… It has been a few hours.”

“Yeah, he got a good nap in, he’ll get a good dinner, and then get some more good sleep. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“The two of you aren’t quiet,” Carl whispers in the exact same tone of voice as the two pirates. He shifts, pushing up on his elbows and opening his eye to turn and look at them. “Good evening.”

“Evening!” Negan grins happily at Carl while Dwight looks sheepish, holding a bowl with a warm pie within.

“Oh, dear, we didn’t mean to wake you,” Dwight says with a sigh, stepping over and sitting on the edge of the bed. He holds out the bowl to Carl. “How are you feeling? And don’t say ‘like you’ve had your eye cut out’, I swear.”

“You wouldn’t think it from how much Cook fed me while we were cooking, but I’m half starved,” Carl answers instead, gently pushing the bowl back to Dwight, “so let’s get to the table.”

Dwight looks apprehensive but nods and stands, holding out his free hand for Carl to take.

Negan’s already made his way to his chair, sinking into it with a groan. He’s got a shirt back on now, but it’s cut low and doesn’t hide the way he shifts his aching shoulder as he reaches for his own food. “Laura said she’s to thank for the pies. That true?”

“She took out their helmsman and steering column for us so yes,” Carl says, taking Dwight’s hand to pull himself up and leaving him with a squeeze.

He makes his way over to the desk carefully before leaning against it and flipping open his medical box where it’s been moved with one hand and reaching out to tug the sleeve of Negan’s shirt with the other. “Take this off and let me see.”

Negan blinks at him in confusion, one bite into his pie and still chewing. “Wot?”

Carl rolls his eyes… eye, oh that’s a weird sensation actually. He makes a face and blinks hard before focusing back on the medical box in front of him. “Your shirt, old man, take it off, and you can keep eating while I check your shoulder.”

“Aren’t you the patient here, young man?” Negan says, even as he sets down his food and tugs his shirt off with a grunt.

“He was fixing a mast today,” Dwight says, sitting in his chair and watching. “Probably shouldn’t have been.”

“Yeah, well… It needed fixing.”

“You can preach to me about rest all day, but I’m not the one that strained a muscle,” Carl tuts. He pulls a mint and chamomile salve out of the medical kit and unscrews the lid, dipping his fingers in the paste and lathering it in his palms.

The stab wound is pretty much on its way to simply being a scar but that doesn’t mean the muscles around it aren’t still aggrieved. Carl leans against the desk for stabilization and reaches out, taking Negan’s shoulder in hand. “Don’t shout, they might think I’m stabbing you again.”

“What-?”

It’s all the warning he gives before he pushes his thumbs into the hard knot a few inches past the old injury.

“Fuck!” Negan grits his teeth against the zap of pain that shoots through his arm, hissing and groaning all the while. “What the- Fuck? Ah, ah!”

“Don’t worry. They won’t think that’s a stabbing shout,” Dwight says from his spot where he’s munching into his pie contently.

“Shut the- ah - fuck up, Dwight.”

“Shh shh, it’s alright, love,” Carl soothes, working the stiffness out of the knot. It seems to be the biggest issue, but he knows Negan has one behind his shoulder blade as well which he’ll have to make him lean forward for.

The coil of muscle spasms and releases. Carl coos slightly, rolling his hand over the area. “There we go. One more and you’ll be all better. Lean forward for me.”

“Jesus Christ, kid. Give me a second to breathe,” Negan says with a groan, feeling the way his entire shoulder already feels looser. He knows what Carl is doing is working, but goddamn, it hurts!

He pushes up and leans forward with a curse under his breath, reaching out to hold onto Carl’s waist with his left hand and rest his head on Carl’s shoulder. “Alright, pet. Fuck me up again.”

The hitch in Carl’s breathing at the name is expected, so is the heat that fills him up at Negan’s touch. He ignores both, curling his fingers so that he can dig his knuckles into the knot in Negan’s shoulder. The angle isn’t right to use his thumbs and he has to wrap his arms around the man to get at the spot.

Due to all of that, this knot takes longer to release, but when it does Carl takes his time to soothe the pain away, rubbing the rest of the salve on his hands into Negan’s skin.

“There we go,” he murmurs, pulling back to drop a kiss on his forehead. “If you can, I want you to sleep flat tonight. It will help.”

“Okay, doc. Whatever you say,” Negan murmurs, sounding worn out from the whole experience, but he can’t lie that it already feels better. Sore as fuck, but in a good way.

When Carl goes to pull away, Negan wraps his arms around his waist and tugs him back in. “Nuh uh. C’mere. Sit with me while we eat. Please? As a treat for me sitting so well during that?”

“You’re going to have to let me turn around if you want me in your lap,” Carl says, rubbing idly at Negan’s neck. He’s tired, doesn’t have the energy to fight it. Especially when he wants it so badly.

“Wanna see Master Dwight’s pretty face while I eat,” Carl tacks on, glancing over his shoulder at the blond. He means to wink but he really can’t so he just gives the other pirate a soft smile.

Dwight smiles back and pushes Carl’s bowl and mug to the other side of the desk so he can grab them.

“I know. Just had to make sure you weren’t gonna run away first.” Negan smiles and kisses Carl’s good cheek, releasing him so he can turn. When he does, Negan lets his eyes travel down Carl’s body, hands reaching out to tug gently on his skirt. “Where were you hidin’ this cheeky little outfit, eh? Looks good on you.”

Carl lets himself sit, carefully making himself comfortable on Negan’s lap as he takes up his bowl. He nearly preens under the praise, nearly blushes too.

“It’s not exactly sensible for the work I usually do on the ship,” is what he decides on saying. “But it was in my color. I couldn’t just leave it there.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Negan says, running his hand down Carl’s leg and then up under the skirt, just past his knee at his inner thigh. “Makes for some easy access too, eh?”

Carl gasps softly, legs flexing apart almost instinctively, before he realizes and his face flames - not just in pain. He ducks his head, focusing on his food.

“Negan, he’s recovering and tired,” Dwight scolds, watching the scene with rapt attention. “And trying to eat.”

“I know, I know.”

“Didn’t know if you two would like it,” he offers up with a forced nonchalant shrug.

“We love it, pet,” Negan says with a kiss and a soft squeeze to Carl’s inner thigh before he removes his hand and reaches for his own food again.

“It’s very nice,” Dwight agrees. “Suits you.”

“Thank you,” Carl replies quietly.

He feels detached in a way. Like his blood doesn’t know where to go and his skin is all tingly, but rather than wanting to get up and go go go like normal he’s perfectly content to sit right here and eat his food. Said food gets consumed faster than usual and he ends up trading his bowl for his mug simply for something to do with his hands.

Negan and Dwight chat idly about different parts of the boat that still need fixed and stories they heard the crew talking about while they worked. Negan’s hands go to Carl once they’re free, tracing nonsense shapes up and down his legs, rubbing at his back and hip like Negan doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. He drops soft kisses to Carl’s face and head when it’s Dwight’s turn to talk, keeping his attention on the other man but devoting so much to Carl as well.

If Carl were a cat he would be purring. He’s practically melted into the man, eye half-lidded and only vaguely listening. It’s rude, he knows, but it’s not as if they’re speaking to him so he can just sit and enjoy the tones of their voices. He’s not asleep, or even dosing per se, but he’s definitely not entirely cognizant, brain all floaty and pleased.

It’s some time later when Negan shifts in his chair, taking Carl’s mug from his limp fingers.

“He’s still got some in here. Leave it for the morning?”

“Yes, I think so,” Dwight says, piling all the empty things onto the usual tray.

“Hm?” Carl flexes his now empty hands, he’d been rubbing his fingers against the dents in the metal, grounding himself.

He opens his mouth to say something but he doesn’t have anything to say. He watches Dwight pile up their empty stuff and has to remind himself that the man will come back after he drops the dishes off and that he’s not just leaving.

“Oh, are you awake, pet?” Negan asks softly, tilting Carl's chin up to look at his face. “We thought you were asleep with how quiet you got. ‘M sorry if we woke you again. We were gonna move to the bed.”

“Wasn’t asleep,” Carl mumbles voice almost airy. He focuses on Negan, taking him in as he tries to push away some of the brain fog. “I’m here.”

“Yeah?” Negan smiles, running his thumb over Carl’s chin. “I want to change out your bandage before bed. Can I do that for you, pet?”

“Okay,” Carl says agreeably. He knows he should push himself up, but he’s just so comfortable.

“Okay.” Negan sits with Carl for another moment, watching Dwight carry the dishes out of the room and just soaking in the relaxed boy in his arms. He kisses his head softly. “Baby boy, I don’t think I can pick you up,” he whispers. “Not after the work you did on my shoulder.”

“M’kay,” Carl breathes, skin all tingly and mouth tugging up on one side at the name. He stumbles to his feet, leaning against the desk. He doesn’t know if Negan will want him here or the bed so he waits.

Negan stands quickly after Carl, hands resting on his hips to keep him steady. “Let’s get you to the bed, okay? You’re doing great.”

“Yeah, okay,” Carl breathes, grabbing the medical box off of the desk so Negan doesn’t have to come back over for it. His steps are careful, and he’s too soft and warm to complain about the man’s hovering as he makes his way over to the bed.

Negan has Carl climb up into it, leaning back against the wall behind the pillows. Negan sits himself at Carl’s feet before carefully lifting Carl’s legs encouraging them to lay over Negan’s lap so he can sit closer to Carl’s face.

“Gonna unwrap you now,” he murmurs, slowly peeling the bandages from around Carl’s face away.

Carl doesn’t feel any specific need to respond so he just tucks his legs a little closer across Negan’s lap and hums a couple of notes to Jolly Sailor. He figures, if Negan lets him help with the stab wound, it’s only fair Carl allows Negan to help with the eye.

Negan stays quiet, smiling softly at how relaxed Carl seems to be. As he gets the bandage off, he sets it aside and looks over the slashes on Carl’s face. They’re on their way to healing, for sure, but he thinks they’re just deep enough to scar. The stitches will have to come out soon as well. He’ll add more of the oil once he’s done with the socket.

Plucking the old bandages from the socket, Negan notes that the traces of blood and, for lack of a better term, gunk has significantly lessened. He’s not the medic on staff, but he’d say it’s doing well on its way to healing.

Carl’s nose wrinkles at the feel of the packing leaving his eye. The pain he feels is constant and doesn’t spike at all when the bandaging comes out, but there’s something distinctly uncomfortable about something being pulled out of him.

Grabbing new packing from the kit, Negan gently begins pushing it back into Carl’s socket.

That feeling from this morning when Negan had pushed the first set of bandages into his socket comes back threefold. Sparks dance behind his eye, skittering across his skin and burrowing into his spine. Unfortunately, he cannot stop himself from shivering and moaning this time.

Negan stops.

“Are you okay? Did I… hurt you?” It didn’t sound like he hurt Carl, but Negan isn’t sure it’s what he thought it was either. Surely it couldn’t be…

Carl’s eye snaps up to Negan, parts of his brain that had been lax from being all curled up in Negan’s lap waking. His choices are making Negan feel bad or…

“No,” Carl says, so low it’s hardly above a whisper. “I’m okay.”

Negan studies him for a moment before nodding. “Okay.” He presses on the packing again, keeping his movements slow and gentle. This time, when he’s got his first two fingers in up to the knuckle, he curls them up to press the bandages to the top of the socket.

Carl doesn’t know why he can’t keep in the moan, he’s used to being quiet after all. It must be something in the sensitivity of the socket, something usually untouched due to it usually being full of his damn eye. It’s more intense than the pain in his face, that’s for damn sure.

Carl squeezes his thighs together beneath the skirt, shame filling his throat as he averts his eye.

Negan hums and nods, hoping he’s connecting the dots he thinks he is. “Carl, does it feel good when I touch you in here?” He gently draws his finger down one side of the socket, always making sure there’s padding between his finger and the wound.

Carl shudders. His prick is definitely starting to react even if his brain is all messed up and confused. He shuts his eye, face biting in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh. No, no. Do not be sorry. Carl, look at me.” Negan removes his fingers so he can take Carl’s face in his hands, careful not to touch the cut on his cheek. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Carl peels his eye open, watery and dilated as it is. He swallows, meeting Negan’s eyes. “It’s disgusting, shameful.”

“Says who? Huh?” Negan scoffs. “Look at me, Carl. Do I look disgusted? No. It’s fine. Perfectly fine.” He runs his thumb under Carl's good eye. “This is all new for you, my dear. There’s no one who could have told you what it’d feel like to have your eye cut out, to have someone touching around in there. I’m sure your nerves are so sensitive.” He licks his lips and tries to fight off his own sexual curiosity. “There’s no one here judging you.”

Carl squirms under the attention. He knows what any landlocked person would think, what his family would think, but he’s not there anymore, he’s here. He’s here and he desperately wants Negan’s fingers inside of him again, as filthy as that sounds.

“It’s so sensitive,” he murmurs. “It feels so much.”

“Yeah?” Negan breathes. “I bet it does, pet. It’s never been exposed before. Never been touched.” He licks his lips again, annoyed with himself that his oral fixation just wants him to stick his tongue inside. Absolutely not, not, not… yet.

“I wonder if it’ll still feel like that when it’s healed. When I can touch without the gauze in the way. If you’ll allow me too.”

“Christ, Negan,” Carl gasps, head tilting back against the wall. He shivers at the thought, mulling it around in his head and is ashamed at how much he wants to know.

The hanging bandages half out of his eye brush his injured cheek and he glances towards the door, deliberating. Negan is by far more… strange than Dwight, and Carl was already scared enough about Negan figuring it out. “I- we… He’s going to come back.”

Negan looks to the door himself before back to Carl, shaking his head. “No, he’s… You didn’t hear did you? While we thought you were asleep earlier, Dwight said he’d sleep in the bunks tonight so that we would have room for me to sleep flat like you said I should.” He reaches up to tuck a loose piece of hair behind Carl’s ear. “If you want to keep going, we can. Nobody is going to interrupt. If you want to stop, that’s okay too. I’ll finish you up quickly and we can go to sleep. It’s your choice, Carl.”

Part of Carl immediately rebels at the idea. He doesn’t know if it’s the instinctive distaste for the whole eye thing, or if it’s the idea that they would be doing something behind Dwight’s back.

“He won’t be mad?”

The question almost surprises him. It’s like he has already decided, and maybe he has. He wants this.

“Nah, but if it really bothers you, we can tell him about it later,” Negan says softly, running a hand over Carl’s leg. “I can tell him just myself if you don’t wanna be there. Not sure he’d be… as into it as me, but he won’t judge you none either.”

Carl’s breath practically shakes out of him. “Yes, okay.”

If Negan believes Dwight won’t be sickened at the very sight of him over this, Carl trusts him. Negan has known Dwight for forever now, he would surely know if this would be something that would upset the first mate.

“Okay,” Carl repeats, almost softer.

“Okay?” Negan confirms just as soft, smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah? Alright. How do you wanna do this? Just how we were? Want me to… touch anywhere else?”

“Anywhere you want,” Carl offers up, and it’s the easier decision. The other part is harder. He rolls his shoulders and shifts a bit, still half in Negan’s lap. “Want to lay down though.”

It’s safer that way, in case he goes all foggy headed again or gets dizzy or something like that.

“Sure. You lay down and put me where you want me, love. Next to you? Over you?” Negan shifts backwards to slide out from Carl’s legs, kicking his boots off in the process. He kneels up on the bed as he helps Carl lay down, trying to contain his excitement.

Carl shifts with Negan’s direction, bending his legs until Negan gets close again and then spreading them around the man. His skirt ends up rucked up to his thighs almost, and he attempts to relax into the bed, hands lax on either side of him.

Negan is still half hovering over him, all he would have to do is lean forward. “This alright?”

“This is perfect,” Negan says, scooting forward on his knees enough for Carl’s legs to sit comfortably up by his hips. With greedy hands, he tugs Carl’s skirt up just enough to reveal his pale inner thigh, dreaming of sinking his teeth into that skin. Not yet.

Leaning forward, Negan takes Carl’s face in his hands and studies his single blue eye. He takes a deep breath and waits for Carl to do the same. “You ready, love?”

Carl takes a breath. He’s never felt smaller than he does underneath Negan like this. It’s not a bad feeling at all.

He nods slightly. “Yes, I’m ready.”

With that, Negan leans in and kisses Carl. He keeps it warm and soft, not wanting Carl to strain the right side of his face. He trails kisses up the bridge of his nose following them with his fingers. “Here I go, pet,” he whispers, dipping a finger inside of Carl’s socket and pressing along the gauze on the side.

Carl gasps softly, the light press of Negan’s finger an echo of what it was before. That silly name will haunt him forever now. Pet, like one of the queen’s rabid dogs. He adores it. The mix of the two things already has his skin tingling in anticipation for more.

“Yeah? Good?” Negan murmurs, watching Carl’s face as he presses a little harder, curling his finger in.

“Mm,” Carl bites down on the moan but gives up halfway through, gasping. The whole right side of his face is low level agony, he can feel the pull of each unprofessional stitch. And yet, the sensation of Negan’s finger pressing inside, rubbing the thin bandaging against what might be the most sensitive part of him, is so heavily arousing that he barely manages to answer.

“Good,” he breathes, smallclothes already tightening.

“Good. Very good,” Negan purrs, petting Carl’s hair with his free hand, scratching at his scalp. “Love hearing you. Love seeing you feel good.” He tucks a little more of the bandage inside before rubbing along the top of the socket, pushing back as far as he can.

The zing of sparks that push sends down Carl’s spine is near violent. His skin tingles and his thighs spasm, tightening around Negan. The keen he lets out could probably be seen as pain but the way he squirms and jerks his hips is definitely pleasure.

“Fuck, look at you,” Negan breathes, absolutely enamored with Carl’s reactions. He slips his free hand down to press his palm over Carl’s covered cock, giving him something to grind against, and delighting in the fact that he put Carl in this state with just a few fingers.

“Negan!” Carl practically mewls at the touch, bucking up against Negan’s hand. The dual sensation has his fingers digging into the bedcovers, trying desperately to ground himself.

“Yeah. Love hearing you say my name. Sounds so good on your lips.” Negan growls softly, crooking his finger down and giving little taps along the bottom edge. “You feel so good for me, Carl. Go on, love. Use me. You’re doing so well.”

Carl has very little capacity for thought but one thing keeps coming back. He doesn’t want to do this alone, he wants to know if it’s affecting Negan too.

He shimmies his hips, a choked out gasp leaving him at the weird feeling Negan’s taps give, and pushes the man’s hand out of his way so that he can wrap his legs tighter around Negan and pull him in. “Please, ngh, wanna feel…”

“Feel what, my dear?” Negan asks, though he’s got an idea. He gently removes his hand from Carl’s eye so he can grab both of Carl’s hips and bring them together, grinding their cocks together through their layers. “You wanna feel how hard you get me? How much watching me finger your eye gets me going? Gets my blood pumping? Fuck.” He leans down to kiss Carl, rocking their hips together all the while.

Carl moans, releasing the bedcovers to grasp at Negan’s shoulders. His ankles lock behind the Captain and he rolls his hips in the direction Negan’s hands are pushing, keening against the older man’s mouth. “Yes, yes!”

Negan moans into Carl’s mouth, nipping lightly at his perfect pink lips. “Fuck, you make me so insane, Carl. Feel so fuckin’ good. Mm.” And god, how Negan wishes that he could also have something else inside of Carl right now. This same position would sink his cock so deep into Carl, really have the young man crying out. Negan shudders at the thought. “So good for me. Perfect little pet.”

The praise slides under his skin like a knife, and he whines in response, nails digging into Negan’s shoulders. He spares a thought, for once wishing he had pulled off his clothes just to feel more of Negan’s skin against his. Next time maybe, he can’t fathom separating now.

He parts his lips under Negan’s assault, wanting desperately for part of Negan to invade him again but not knowing how to ask. Negan is the talker, not him.

Negan takes the bait, licking his way into Carl’s mouth. He slides a hand up, burying it into Carl’s hair at the nape of his neck and directs Carl where he wants him as Negan traces Carl’s teeth with his tongue. He moans again, digging his other fingers into Carl’s hip hard enough that he’s sure there will be bruises.

Carl doesn’t really know how to define the sound he lets out other than pleased. His fingernails are probably leaving indents in Negan’s shoulders from how hard he’s gripping but all he can focus on is sucking at the tongue in his mouth, sparing a half deranged thought that he wants those fingers back in his face. It makes him shiver, thighs flexing around Negan’s hips.

Negan gives a particularly hard thrust before breaking their mouths just for a moment to pant heavily. “God, you taste good,” he murmurs, glancing to Carl’s right eye where some of the bandages still spill from. He kisses Carl again, moving his hand from his nape to tuck in the last of the gauze, rubbing along the side of the socket at the same time.

Carl’s eye rolls in pleasure, and the rolling is still an insane feeling, especially with Negan’s fingers in his eye. It shoves him right to the edge and he can’t help but clutch at Negan, hips rocking jitteringly. “Negan, please!”

“Come on, love. You can do it. Come on. Tip over that edge for me. C’mon, Carl.” Negan’s babbling as he watches Carl’s face, grinding their cocks together so nicely. He can feel his own orgasm sneaking up his spine, the tightening in his balls. “‘M close too, hun. So close. Come on.”

Carl falls over the edge with an almost sob, wrapping his arms all the way around Negan and pressing his forehead against the man’s shoulder as he pants and shakes apart.

Negan curls down around Carl as he comes not a moment after, a deep groan emanating from his chest.

It was the best orgasm he’s had in a while. He’s not even the least bit annoyed that he’s gotten his pants dirty.

He doesn’t realize he’s got his teeth sunk into Carl’s shoulder until he’s come down from his high and is pulling them out. He coos softly and licks at the bite mark in silent apology.

Carl squirms when he comes back to himself, more annoyed by his sticky pants than the bite he can feel Negan lavishing with attention. He lets his legs relax, sliding down on the bed.

Fingers coming up to scratch through Negan’s hair, he mumbles only half annoyed, “This shirt is not hiding that.”

“‘M sorry,” Negan mumbles, nuzzling in under Carl’s jaw to press soft kisses there. He lifts up to look at Carl’s face, smoothing his fingers across his unhurt cheek. “You did so good, love. How do you feel?”

“‘S fine, ‘m fine,” Carl mumbles tiredly. “Would pr’fr you to bite me other places… ‘n also not to spend in my smalls ‘gain.”

Negan laughs softly, pecking Carl’s lips. “I’ll remember for next time.” He smiles down at Carl, affection and adoration swimming in his gaze as he carefully tucks the last of the bandage into Carl’s socket. “Will you let me get you cleaned up, love? I need to finish your wound care, and I can give you a fresh pair of smalls, if you’ll allow me.”

Carl shivers at the touch, too wrung out for more. He doesn’t have the energy to argue about being taken care of at all. “Yes,” he mutters agreeably. “Sounds nice.”

“Good. You just relax, baby boy. I got you.” With one more kiss, Negan leans back, taking a deep breath himself and fighting off the orgasm fatigue. He knows he can finish this all up quickly, and then Carl and him can pass out.

He applies the oils first, smoothing them gently over the stitches, before rewrapping the whole thing in new bandages. With a kiss dropped over Carl’s covered socket, Negan gently scoots out of the bed, heading for his dresser.

He changes his own clothes first, wiping the half dried cum off his skin with his soiled pants. He grabs a pair of smalls that are probably closer to Dwight’s size than Negan’s and a clean cloth that he dampens in a bucket of salt water.

He comes back to Carl, and sets his things down before gently shifting his skirt up until it covers absolutely nothing. “Don’t think any got on your pretty skirt, love,” Negan murmurs, hooking his fingers under Carl’s dirty smalls and slipping them down and off.

Carl basks in the attention, body lax and malleable from his orgasm high. He hums when Negan starts cleaning him up, trying not to squirm away. “Good, love this skirt.”

After Negan has pulled him into a new pair of smalls, Carl scoots over in the bed pulling the covers up so Negan can just slide in. “Sleep time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Negan says, not even bothering to lower the lanterns before he crawls into bed. He’s a little sad he’ll have to sleep flat on his back tonight when all he wants to do is hold Carl close, but he gives his boy a few goodnight kisses before laying back and closing his eyes. “Good night, Carl.”

“‘M only doin’ this cuz you can’t.” Carl shifts, turning on his side and laying an arm over Negan’s waist. It’s definitely not his preferred position to sleep in but he’ll be able to reach his weapons still leaned up by the bed if needed. “G’night, love.”

“Oh…” Negan breathes, feeling warmth flood his chest. He rests his hand over Carl’s arm and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Chapter 23

Summary:

The morning after.

Notes:

R: A cute little chapter for everyone on this Sunday~

 

Carl, surprisingly with his four day coma and his little nap, manages to wake up with the sun as usual. He climbs over Negan, making his way out of the bed on steadier feet than the day before. He isn’t particularly quiet, but he knows Negan is an oddly heavy sleeper, so he drops a kiss on the man’s head and grabs his boots and weapons, taking them over to the desk to get ready.

When he’s done, Carl decides that he’s going to get the breakfast for once. He makes his way on deck carefully, not wanting to push himself too hard but still wanting to prove to himself he can. Carson is on deck already, mopping of all things, and he lifts a hand towards Carl. “Come find me later?”

“Will do!” the boy says over the ambient noise of the ocean as he makes his way to the galley.

Cook, grumpier than usual in the morning, squints at him and shoves a finger at the premade tray on the counter. “Better not overwork yerself.”

“I’ll endeavor not to,” Carl offers up, retreating back to the deck with the tray.

Dwight is in the cabin when Carl returns, sitting on the bed next to Negan and idly petting his hair. He looks up and smiles when he sees Carl.

“I assumed you were getting food when I came in and found you missing,” he says. “At least, I hoped so.“ He laughs softly.

“I’m feeling a little steadier on my feet today,” Carl confides, giving the blond a soft look as he settles the tray on the desk. “We missed you last night.”

“You look steadier,” Dwight notes before ducking his head down slightly and looking to Negan again. “Yes, I missed you too, but I knew we would not all fit with Negan laying like this.” And indeed, on his back and not half on top of Carl, Negan takes up much of the bed. “And I want his shoulder to heal up, you know?”

“If he doesn’t do anything stupid, he should be getting back to normal soon,” Carl tells him, unloading the dishes into their normal places, he eyes his cup from the night before and grabs it, finishing it off.

“I’ll sleep in my hammock tonight though,” Carl says, rolling his shoulders. “I’ve been sleeping in that bed far too much.”

“I know what you mean,” Dwight says with a laugh. “I regularly sleep in my own bunk. Sometimes, I just feel like sleeping by myself, and other times I like being with Negan, and now you too.”

He draws his fingers down Negan’s face, feeling the scruff of his beard that needs to be trimmed. “I’m just happy that Negan is kind. He allows me the luxury of choice. Understands when his… enthusiasm is a bit too much for me and lets me be by myself for a little while.” He smiles though there’s a sad glint in his eyes. “Others I’ve been with were not so accommodating.”

“Can’t say I have much experience with either,” Carl admits idly. He paces over to the bed, leaning against the wall and looking down at the captain. “I suppose we should wake him sweetly since he’s been so good lately.”

“Mm.” Dwight’s eyes catch on the imprint of teeth bruising on Carl’s shoulder, and he holds in a laugh. Very good, it seems.

Leaning down, Dwight captures Negan’s lips in a kiss, running one hand over his chest at the same time. Negan groans softly under him, making Dwight smile as he leans back. “Wake up, fair maiden. Your princes are here.”

“Well, I’m no prince,” Carl says, bending to press a soft fleeting kiss against Negan’s lips, “but I did bring breakfast.”

Negan mumbles, reaching up to rub at his face. “Mm… kisses and breakfast?”

“Yeah, hun. Kisses and breakfast. C’mon.” Dwight shakes Negan lightly until his eyes open and he blinks up at them.

“Ah… Two beauties for my sore eyes first thing in the morning.”

Carl snorts pushing off of the wall and making sure he has his balance before going to the desk. “Stop being a sap and come eat. I think Cook had to use the rest of our uncooked eggs, it’s some kind of scramble.”

Negan hums and sits up, reaching out to bring Dwight into a warm morning kiss before they both make their way over to their spots.

“Any plans today, Carl?” Dwight asks. “Going to help Cook again?”

“I need to see what Carson wants and check my stock after so many injuries in the crew,” Carl comments, making himself comfortable in his usual chair.

“After that I will probably go to the galley for a bit,” Carl admits. He feels he spends the most time there when he isn’t doing something on deck for Dwight.

“Sounds good. Remember to rest when you need it, okay?” Dwight picks up his bowl, stirring his food about before taking a bite. Whatever it is, it’s good.

“Yes, I know. Heal at my own pace and what have you,” Carl says, taking a bite of his food. He groans, pleased with the flavor of peppers bursting over his tongue. “Oh, that’s fantastic.”

Negan hums in agreement, already a few bites into his breakfast. His shoulder is a little sore this morning, but he can already tell it’s moving better. He’d have to think of some way to thank Carl, despite the fact that he’s the one who stabbed it in the first place.

Dwight talks about a strange dream he had the night before while they eat, in which they were back at The Kingdom, but they were all animals. Negan argues against the rabbit allegations, but Dwight says he can’t control his subconscious.

Empty bowls get piled up on the tray, mugs following shortly.

“I’ll take them,” Carl says, already collecting the tray. “I’m sure Carson is waiting for me.” He pauses to drop a kiss on each man’s mouth. “See you both at dinner.”

“See you, love.”

“Bye, pet.”

They watch him leave, smiling and waving.

Once the door closes, Dwight levels a look at Negan.

“What?”

“You two were supposed to be resting.”

“We did!”

Dwight crosses his arms over his chest, knee bouncing. “How’d he get the mark then? You roll over in your sleep and bite him?”

“Hey, now. Don’t put that past me, but… No.” Negan sighs. “We may have gotten up to a little something.”

“A little.”

“Yes. A little. We… uh… discovered something.”

“What does that mean?”

“Okay, first, promise you won’t freak out.”

“You know that just makes me want to freak out more.”

Negan winces and waves his hand through the air. “Promise.”

Dwight sighs and relaxes, letting his arms fall. “Okay, I promise.”

Negan watches Dwight for a moment, trying to think how to put his thoughts into words that make sense. “I was changing Carl’s bandages,” he starts. “And when I was putting them into his socket, ya know, he made a little…” Negan makes an approximate noise of the little moan Carl let out, making Dwight’s eyes go big. “And I thought I hurt him, but-but I didn’t. Apparently, those nerves in there feel fucking good.” He licks his lips nervously, looking away and fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck his eye hole.”

“What-? No! No, no. I just… Touched around in there with the bandages in the way. I never actually touched open wound, or whatever. I was careful, and I made sure he was okay with everything.”

Dwight looks at Negan for a long moment, thinking over his words. He’s really trying to not lose it, knows Negan wouldn’t do something rash like this for shits and giggles. He definitely wouldn’t hurt Carl. Negan might not seem like it sometimes, but he does think through his actions.

Sighing, Dwight nods. “Well, he seemed normal earlier, so I guess… It’s fine. What… It felt good for him?”

“Yeah. Kid was squirming in my lap with just me touching in there. God, it was so…” He hums and closes his eyes, remembering Carl beneath him. “Delicious.”

“You would be into it, you silly man.” Shaking his head, Dwight stands and makes his way to Negan, scratching a hand through his hair.

Negan grins, big and feral, leaning into the touch with a growl. “You love me and all my weird proclivities.”

“Unfortunately.”

~

Carl ends up finding Carson in the brig tossing a palm sized ball of rope in the air and catching it from the second hammock that’s been hung in the room. “You look like you’ve had fun.”

“Don’t be a cad,” Carl tuts, making his way over to the shelves to pull the secondary emergency medical box from behind his soap crate. He puts it down, flipping it open and begins pulling his wrappings off. “What’s with the ball?”

“I thought it might help with your aim and perception,” Carson fills in. “Play a little catch?”

Carl snorts softly, drawing his dagger so that he can check the status of his stitches in its reflection. Deciding they need one more day, he stows it in the sheath once more and starts to pull the packing out. The sensations are much more dulled when it is him filling his eye rather than someone else at least.

“I’m happy for you, Master Carlton,” Carson says after a long moment.

Carl turns, fastening his new wrappings around his face. “What do you mean?”

Carson waits for him to be done before tossing the ball of rope, clearly cataloguing his movements. Even still, Carl almost doesn’t catch it.

“You’ve made a place for yourself here. It makes sense with you,” Carson explains, flexing his fingers for Carl to throw the ball back.

Carl attempts his trick from the day before by pretending he just has an eye closed but frowns, realizing it would be dangerous to rely on that. Taking a breath, he carefully aims for the middle of Carson’s chest. The toss goes a bit to the left but it’s close enough for Carson to catch.

“I think this ship just turns all you old men into saps.”

“Watch it, boy-o.”

Chapter 24

Summary:

Dwight and Carl put on a little show for Negan.

Notes:

R: This chapter is just what happens when two bottoms make out while their top watches haha~ Enjoy!

 

Dwight comes to fetch Carl in the galley at dinner time, asking Cook how he’s been doing.

“Ah, right as rain, this lil’ one,” Cook praises with a hand stop Carl’s head. “Don’t know what I ever did without ‘im.”

“Oh, you’d be fine, hush,” Carl flaps a hand towards Cook. “You’re just trying to make sure I don’t practice my knife throwing in your kitchen.”

Carl grabs the usual dinner tray and rounds the counter towards Dwight. “Hope your day has been well.”

“Quite,” Dwight says, keeping an eye on the tray in Carl’s hands. He’s seen Carl already improve his walking and balance, but he just likes to make sure. “Almost have the ship fully fixed up. As much as we can without being at port anyway. How was your day?”

“Carson’s helping me with my aim,” Carl informs idly, making sure to take his time on the ladder-like steps up to the deck. “We’ve no clue if relearning my center of balance on a constantly moving vessel will help or hinder me on land.”

Dwight laughs softly. “We’ll see when it comes time for that, huh? It is an interesting thing, the human body. How it just gets used to things, relearns things.”

“Humans are fragile machines,” Carl comments, waiting for Dwight to open the door to the cabin, not yet ready to balance the tray like he used to, “but adaptable beasts.”

“Aye, cheers to that.” Opening the door, Dwight steps aside to let Carl through first before following and closing it behind.

Negan’s writing in his book as he tends to do in the later hours, looking up from behind his glasses as the two enter. He smiles and sets down the beautiful quill that Carl stole for him. “That time, eh? What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Smoked sausage and beans,” Carl answers, settling the tray on the desk. He takes in the handsome sight of Negan in his specs as he dishes everything out. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Doing good,” Negan says, rolling his shoulder back and forward to feel the range of motion. “No more of that tugging sensation.”

“Good, tell me if it gets tight again,” Carl tells him, with a half-hearted stern look. He takes a seat in his usual chair and picks up his bowl. “Or if any part of either of you is hurting. Lord knows I’ve heard the rest of the crew’s complaints, I’ll be checking them all over tomorrow.”

“Nice having a medic aboard,” Negan says, grabbing his dinner and digging in.

“I’m sure the crew will appreciate it,” Dwight says around a bite of his own food. “Do you have enough supplies for everything you’re working on?”

“Should do, unless of course someone is hiding something traumatic,” Carl nods, cutting up his sausage slices. He’s noticed that he instinctively starts chewing in the right side and it always aches especially with bigger foods. “I’m down on some cleaner bandages with my eye but I should stop having to pack it when the stitches come out.”

“We’ll have to get you a gold encrusted eye patch,” Negan says with a grin. “Something pretty to match the rest of your stuff.”

Dwight laughs softly. “Then you’ll really be looking like a pirate.”

Carl’s fingers clench around his spoon. Right, to hide it, because he went and marred up his pretty face. He forces a smile, paying attention to how it creases his face so he doesn’t put too much strain on the right. “Oh, I think something more subtle will be fine. Wouldn’t want to be gauche.”

“Oh, yes! Because everything else about you is subtle.” Negan laughs. “But, I think we were discussing getting you a sapphire, yeah? I do like that idea myself.”

Dwight makes a noise of interest. “Oh? Like a glass eye but sapphire?” He looks at Carl like he’s trying to imagine it there, a sparkling sapphire gem next to his real blue eye. “Oh, I think that would be wonderful, dear. Think about that, yeah?“

“Well, that’s all very far off anyhow,” Carl says, fingers drifting up to touch the edge of his wrapping. “Best not to dwell on it right now.”

Carl goes back to his food. “I mean you would need a jeweler for such a venture, maybe even someone far more trained with ailments. Seems convoluted.”

“I don’t agree with that. I think it would be a well made investment,” Dwight says, frowning around his bite. “I imagine it would be much more comfortable than an eyepatch, for one thing. Would probably protect the socket better too.”

“Aye, and we would get to see your pretty face unobscured,” Negan purrs with a smirk.

Carl can’t help but let his lips quirk up more organically than before, setting aside his empty bowl so that he can grab his mug. “You don’t have to ply me with pretty things, Negan. You already have me.”

“God, I sure do.” Negan licks his spoon slowly, letting his tongue flick off the end. “Hang me for wanting to cover you in things that enhance your beauty. I am but a simple man.” His eyes flick between the two men in front of him, studying both of their faces. “Mm, how did I get so lucky to have two lovers with such beautiful faces?”

“Flatterer,” Dwight mumbles even as he smiles and goes pink, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear, showing off more of his scars in the process.

“You’re incorrigible,” Carl mumbles, flushing hotly.

Besides, the way he sees it he’s found all of his pretty things himself and even added pretty things to the two pirates. Rather than pointing that out, Carl hums. “I suppose we will have to agree to disagree.”

“Mm, if you say so dear,” Negan says with a chuckle, placing his empty bowl on the table. “Of course, my favorite thing that you could wear is nothing, but I can see how you may be adverse to that on the daily.”

Dwight adds his bowl to the pile with an eye roll. “Alright. Keep it in your pants, Romeo.”

“I think I like all my sparklies too much to wear nothing at all,” Carl says, not rising to the bait, as he looks at his rings pointedly.

“We could meet in the middle,” Negan says, leaning forward to rest his arms on his desk and eye Carl up, imagining him in nothing but his jewelry.

“You’ll have to play your cards better than that,” Carl quips before he can stop himself. He takes a swig of his drink, averting his gaze.

Negan groans, practically melting on his desk and almost pushing things off. Dwight is there to hold back the books and maps that threaten to topple over the edge. “Dwight, do you see how he talks to me? Makes me want him so much. Got my mouth watering thinking of him in nothing but his shiny bits, and then he denies me.”

“He’s not denying you anything. He’s telling you to work harder,” Dwight says with a snort, bopping Negan on the head with one of the rolls of paper that refuse to stay on the desk since he shifted it.

Deciding he might as well commit, Carl inches his boot out from under his skirt and rests the side against Dwight’s ankle. “Do you not want to see me in just my shiny bits, dear heart?”

Dwight’s head whips over to Carl and he immediately goes pink to his ears. “I-Well, I… I never said I didn’t, now did I?” He clears his throat and casts his eyes down at Carl’s boot, gently pressing back against it. “It would be a sight to see for sure.”

The left side of his mouth curves into a halfhearted smirk. “Hm, and yet you tease Negan so.”

“You’ll find that he likes it,” Dwight says with a soft laugh, looking over and reaching out to play his fingers through the ends of Carl’s hair.

“Now that doesn’t surprise me at all,” Carl comments, not looking away from the man. He’s so beautiful, it makes Carl wonder why his head gets so clogged up about his wound when Dwight looks like this. Absolutely enchanting.

“Don’t go sharing all my secrets now,” Negan says quietly, watching the scene before him with rapt attention.

“Mm, think it’s only fair I share a little with Carl. Let him have his fun the way I do.”

Carl decides that playfully ignoring Negan is the best course of action. “What, does he think he’s terribly subtle about it?”

“Not all things, but there’s some little tricks I could let you in on,” Dwight says with a smirk, his fingers moving from Carl’s hair to his jaw, tracing the line of it gently.

“What? Like what?” Negan perks up, eyebrows drawing in.

“Perhaps the next time we’re alone, I’ll tell you, dear.”

Carl can’t help but lean into the touch, softening. “I look forward to it, dear heart.”

Dwight’s chest flutters the way it always does when Carl calls him that. He loves it so much. Loves Carl. Loves Negan. He is so happy to have found his place and his people.

“Good. We’ll have our own little party, hm? No captains allowed.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” Negan pouts, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. It’s all playful, over the top, dramatics of course.

Finally Carl grins. “Oh, don’t be so sour, love, I’m sure you’ll hear all about it in explicit detail.”

He reaches up to trace his fingers over the back of Dwight’s hand where it cradles his jaw. “Isn’t that right?”

“Mm… Only if you say I can tell him,” Dwight says, leaning forward towards Carl. “I’m good at keeping secrets if you need me to.”

Carl stiffens a bit. He knows it’s a tease but- “I would never ask either of you to keep something from the other.”

Both pirates sober a bit at the words, Dwight sighing softly. “I know, hun. Thank you. We would never ask it of you either.”

Carl leans forward the rest of the way, resting his forehead against Dwight’s. “I wouldn’t if you did. I need you to know that. I couldn’t.”

Dwight hums and closes his eyes, enjoying the closeness. “I understand, love. No need to worry about it.”

Carl breathes a sigh of relief. As much as he’s tried not to worry about this odd three people situation, he does, constantly. Worse than the worries that he’s going to get himself hurt are the worries that he’s going to fracture these two in some way.

“Good, thank you,” he murmurs once he finds his voice.

Dwight hums again and tilts his head to place a gentle kiss to Carl’s cheek. “Of course, love. Shh.” He trails his lips over, pressing a kiss to the corner of Carl’s mouth.

Carl shifts, slotting his lips with Dwight’s. It’s barely been a day but he feels like they’re more distant than he and Negan somehow. He kisses Dwight softly, slowly, drawing it out as much as he can.

And maybe that’s the difference. Dwight is the gentle touch on his cheek, the warmth of staying in bed for a few extra minutes, kisses that aren’t in a hurry. Negan is fast and hungry, all teeth and tongue and passion. Together they bring themselves to a happy medium. Together they show Carl all the ways he can be loved.

Dwight’s long fingers slide their way back to the nape of Carl’s neck, threading through the soft hair there and keeping him close as Dwight kisses back, tender yet breathtaking.

Carl could just melt. He imagines how these types of kisses would feel when he’s in that brain fogged, floaty place from the night before and nearly shivers. He lets a pleased sound bleed into the kiss, hand sliding down Dwight’s arm to clutch at his sleeve, anchoring himself here so he won’t cross the space and tumble into the blond’s lap begging for more.

Dwight smiles at the little noise. Good, he wants to praise, but he doesn’t want to break the kiss. He licks ever so softly at Carl’s lips to try and drink him up like ambrosia.

If either of them could focus on anything besides each other, they’d notice the sound of Negan’s quill scratching at a piece of paper.

Carl opens for him, leaning forward, pressing as much as he can of himself into Dwight’s space without tumbling out of his chair.

The action makes Dwight hum in delight, kissing Carl a little deeper, tasting his tongue with his. How intimate an action, to place your tongue between someone else’s teeth and trust them not to bite. Carl presses Dwight’s tongue against the roof of his mouth and sucks, humming in delight.

It’s Dwight who lets out a soft sound of pleasure now, the hand in Carl’s hair tightening for a second. He reaches out with his free hand to grasp the front of Carl’s shirt, tugging on him in an attempt to get him closer.

Carl has so little self control when it comes to these men. He shoves his mostly empty mug on the desk hoping it doesn’t spill, and presses one hand to Dwight’s shoulder.

He pushes forward, barely disconnecting their lips for a moment before hiking up his skirt so that he can slide his way into the blond’s lap. He pauses, for less than a second, waiting to see if he gets any resistance before sliding their mouths together once more.

“Oh…” Dwight breathes into the space between the kisses, pleasantly surprised to have a lap full of Carl. He has to admit, he’s usually the one climbing into other’s laps, but this way around isn’t so bad either.

He kisses Carl back as he has been, hands free now to run up and down Carl’s sides and then down to his hips. He feels the soft fabric of the skirt as he smoothes his hands over Carl’s thighs, not attempting to get underneath the way Negan might have.

Like this Carl can touch more. He can thread his fingers through Dwight’s hair, lightly scratch his nails through Dwight’s pretty facial hair. He shivers at Dwight’s touches, tucking his knees tighter around the man. He allows a soft keen to escape him encouragingly, curling his tongue up to trace the ridge at the roof of Dwight’s mouth.

Dwight groans, squeezing Carl’s thighs as a rush of pleasure goes through him, sensations overwhelming. He wraps his arms around Carl, hugging him ever closer as he shivers softly under Carl’s ministrations.

Carl falters, some of his weight pressing down on Dwight’s lap as he hums softly into the man’s mouth. Running his fingers down the side of Dwight’s throat where Negan’s lovely marks are fading, he sneaks his hand into the collar of the man’s shirt just so that he can press his palm against the skin there.

“Ah…” Dwight gasps softly, his fingers digging into Carl’s back. Carl’s hand feels so good on his skin. The craving to have them all over Dwight’s body is so strong. He wants Carl to explore him, map him out the way Negan has. He wants to be so known by these two.

Carl gives up on holding himself up, pressing down to seat himself on Dwight’s lap. He presses their chests together, angling his head back and changing the whole composition of their kiss in one fell swoop.

Dwight mewls into Carl’s mouth, practically melting and letting Carl do whatever he wants to him. It feels so good to be the focus of Carl’s attention, feel his weight settle in on his lap. Dwight loves it.

Carl pulls back enough to breathe, lips finding every inch of Dwight’s jaw. “So lovely, stunning, enchanting, dear heart,” Carl murmurs against Dwight’s ear, licking at the point of his throat where it meets his jaw but not nipping or sucking.

“Oh, ah… Mm… Carl,” Dwight breathes, shaking beneath the wonderful boy atop him. He can’t help the way he automatically turns his head away, giving Carl more room and silently begging for it. His hands go to Carl’s hips and fist in his skirt, trying to ground himself and keep Carl close all at once.

Carl lays kisses on all Negan’s marks, bathing them in his worship. He tugs at the collar of Dwight’s shirt where his hand is tucked, allowing himself the chance to scrape his teeth across the plane of Dwight’s collarbone, it won’t leave a mark but it feels nice to do.

He pulls back from Dwight’s collar, leaning up just to taste the man’s lips again. He could do this forever, even with the growing interest in his smalls, he adores the way they press together.

Dwight is just as enthusiastic, kissing back as soon as Carl’s lips are on his. He feels dizzy with all the attention being lavished on him, moaning and squirming all the while, feeling warm heat build in his belly but not the need to stoke it. “Carl… Mm…”

Carl pecks several times at Dwight’s mouth, his free hand scratching up through blond hair to massage at the man’s scalp. “Do you need something, dear heart?”

Panting softly, Dwight presses into those fingers while he catches his breath. His hands slide down to Carl’s thighs, thumbs rubbing circles in the fabric of his skirt. “N-No, I just…” He gets lost for a moment in the view of Carl over him, pink lips wet and kiss bruised. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“Aren’t you just sweet,” Carl murmurs, combing Dwight’s hair back with his ringed fingers. He falls into another soft kiss, the fingers he has on the man’s chest shifting to trace the line of his collarbone where he scraped his teeth not so long ago. He trusts Dwight to tell him if he wants something, if he needs something.

Reaching up, Dwight holds Carl’s jaw, feeling it work as they kiss. He can’t help but to shiver from all the little touches and feels like he just might burst from the sensations and emotions.

He lets his hand drop to where Carl’s is on his collarbone, tugging it over to rest on top of his quick beating heart. “Feel what you do to me,” he murmurs into the kiss.

Carl can’t help but hum, copping a feel of where Dwight has pressed his hand. He uses his hold on the man’s hair to tilt his head back and drops his mouth to the exposed column of Dwight’s throat lacing his tongue across the quick beating pulse point and mouthing at the lovely ball of his adam’s apple. “So beautiful, my dear, you make me crazy.”

“Ah… Carl, please. Please, please.” Dwight whines softly, digging his fingers into Carl’s hips and thighs. “Mark me, please. I want to feel it. Carl, please.”

Carl moans slightly at the biting pressure right where he loves it most, where he wants to be bruised and bitten up. “Can’t,” he gasps against Dwight’s throat, kissing reverently at one of Negan’s marks. “His.”

Dwight practically sobs at the denial, clutching at Carl even harder. That’s not what he wants to hear. That’s not what he needs. “Please. I wanna feel it. Wanna wear it. Wanna be yours. Wanna be his. Please, let me have both. Please, Carl.”

That’s about the time Carl breaks, half uncaring if Negan is mad at him later. He ducks, latching his mouth onto the older man’s collarbone and digging his teeth in while he sucks.

Dwight shouts out a moan, his head falling back over the chair. Yes, yes, yes.

“So good for us, dear heart,” Carl croons when he’s dragging his tongue soothingly over the mark, following the bone beneath to leave another like the place is a shelf of his care for Dwight.

“Carl, love… Ah, so good. You’re so good to me. To us,” Dwight breathes out between his gasps and moans at the little pricks of pain mixed with pleasure Carl supplies. He scratches his blunt nails up and down Carl’s thighs, rucking his skirt up to allow him access beneath. He squeezes and scratches at Carl’s bared skin while he writhes beneath his mouth.

Carl keens in pleasure as Dwight takes his nails over the sensitive skin of his thighs. He yanks at the collar of the man’s shirt so that he can get his teeth in the other collarbone wondering if this is who they are. If they’re just happy to claw and bite at each other like starved rabid animals. He finds he has no complaints.

“So sweet, my dear, so darling for us,” he says into a bite mark he’s left, small but hard enough to bruise and lovely enough to lick the sting out of.

“You’re so perfect, Carl. So lovely,” Dwight murmurs back, pushing his hands up to dig his thumbs into Carl’s soft inner thighs just at the edge of where his smalls meet his skin. It’s so warm beneath Carl’s skirt and between his legs.

Carl shivers, pushing up again to kiss Dwight. It’s messy, slick and far too loud, he ends it by sucking the blond’s bottom lip into his mouth as he draws back. “You feel so good, dear heart, just perfect between my thighs,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to each of Negan’s marks and then his own.

“Yeah? You feel good too. So warm. Mm.” Dwight slides his hands back, grabbing at Carl’s ass and dragging him forward the extra inch to press their hard lengths together. “See what you do to me, love? Amazing. You’re so amazing.”

Carl shivers and moans, bucking against Dwight’s length. He kisses up to Dwight’s ear, lowering his voice to bring attention back to the room. “Is he watching us, my dear?”

Dwight swallows as he looks over Carl’s shoulder, blinking away the haze in his eyes to focus on Negan at his desk. The captain smiles at him, looking blissed out as he leans back in his chair, a scattering of papers with drawings on them all over his desk.

“Yeah,” Dwight breathes, nodding softly. “Yeah, he is.”

“You wanna give him a show, dear heart?” Carl hums, tracing his fingers up and down Dwight’s neck, stopping to press his nails into the indents of his teeth, eliciting a gasp and deep groan from Dwight.

“We can,” the boy whispers jerking his hips again, “right over that desk, with you sliding your lovely prick between my thighs. Would you like that?”

“Oh… Oh, fuck. Yeah. Yes. Please? Carl, please?” Dwight’s hands squeeze where they’re still resting on Carl’s ass, but he slides them forward again to feel those beautiful thighs again.

Carl gathers his already rucked up skirt, tucking it around his swords and curling it into his sword belt to hold it out of his way. He eyes the desk when he slides off of Dwight’s lap, half full of scattered papers and their tray of dishes. He tries not to focus on the pages contents and instead moves the dishes off, onto his chair.

Pushing his hands up under the remaining length of his skirt he begins to work his smalls down, tilting his head at Negan. “Won’t you move your pages for us, love?”

“Of course, darling,” Negan says softly, eyes tracking all of Carl’s movements even as he begins to stack his pages and move them carefully into a desk drawer. He licks his lips as he watches Dwight stand on shaking legs, using the corner of the desk to help him stay up. “You two are so enchanting. Love watching the way you move together.”

“Well, aren’t you in luck then,” Carl hums, letting his smalls fall around the ankles of his boots. He reaches out to where his large medical kit is and pulls out a vial of aloe holding it out to Dwight.

When Dwight takes it, Carl bends himself over the desk, reaching for Negan. “Kiss?”

“Of course.” Negan lets himself be grabbed, moving in to press his lips against Carl’s. They’re so soft, and so red from kissing Dwight, but god, it always feels good to kiss Carl.

Carl knows his jaw can’t take it right now, that he risks popping a stitch or worse, but the idea of having these men on either end of him, using him, is enough to make him shiver. He reaches back while he kisses Negan searching for Dwight so that he can pull the man forward against him.

“I’m here,” Dwight says, taking Carl’s hand and stepping up behind him. He’s got the laces on his breeches loosened, the vial of aloe warming in his hand.

“You look good bent over my desk,” Negan says against Carl’s lips, smiling all the while.

“Such a lecher,” Carl tuts, nipping at Negan’s mouth. He turns his head, smiling softly at Dwight. “Whenever you’re ready, dear heart.”

“Just a moment, my dear. Oh, just a moment.” Dwight sets the aloe down to finish undoing his pants, feeling Negan’s eyes on him as he finally gets his cock free. He reaches out and flips up the bit of Carl’s skirt barely hiding his prize from him. Dwight has to steady himself at the sight of Carl’s perfect ass and legs, bare and ready for him. “Fuck, Carl.”

“God, I wish I could see what he’s seeing,” Negan murmurs, taking Carl’s chin and running kisses along his jaw. “Bet you look so fucking good back there. Make me wanna sink my teeth into that ass of yours.”

Carl hums allowing his eye to slip shut so that he can bask in the attention. “Prefer you bite me other places,” he comments idly. He crosses his ankles, making it easier for him to squeeze his thighs together later and turns to kiss Negan once again.

“You tell me where, and I’ll be there. You point, I’ll bite,” Negan mumbles into the kiss, letting Carl control it.

Meanwhile, Dwight is running his hands over Carl’s pale skin, biting his lip as he squeezes and releases Carl’s flesh, delighting in the feel of it. He grabs the aloe again, uncorking it with his teeth, and spilling a dab onto his fingers. He sets it down again, resting his clean hand onto Carl’s lower back as he presses his slicked fingers between Carl’s thighs.

Carl enjoys all of their touches but the slip of fingers between his thighs means he’s getting somewhere. He squeezes his thighs together testingly around Dwight’s hand.

“Later,” he finally tells Negan when he pulls back from the kiss. For now he’s going to enjoy Dwight’s touches.

Negan nods understandingly, watching the way Dwight uses the excess aloe on his hand to slick his cock up. God, that’s a sight he rarely sees but that he loves so much.

Taking hold of Carl’s hip with one hand, Dwight holds his cock in his other, taking a breath as he steps forward and presses the head of his cock to the crease of Carl’s thighs.

Carl hums in pleasure as Dwight slides into the sensitive space between his thighs. “That’s it, dear heart, just like that.”

“Oh… Oh, my,” Dwight groans, sinking as far as he can into Carl’s slick heat. He breathes out deeply, both hands on Carl’s hips, as he bends down and presses a kiss to the back of Carl’s neck. “You ready, love?”

“I’m ready,” Carl says softly, shivering at the brush of lips at the back of his neck, tracing his fingers along Dwight’s knuckles. “Use me all you need, won’t you, my dear?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Dwight kisses Carl once more, looking up and locking eyes with Negan. With a smile, Negan pushes up and kisses Dwight gently before returning to his seat.

“Go on, love.”

Carl could practically purr over being between these two men.

With a quick nod Dwight begins to rock his hips, moaning low at the delicious friction and pressure of Carl’s thighs squeezing around him. Every time he thrusts forward, he can feel the tip of his cock hit Carl’s balls, sending a little jolt of pleasure up Dwight’s spine that’s so delicious and addictive.

The younger man folds an arm atop the desk, bracing himself there. His balls aren’t a particularly sensitive place for him but every couple of thrusts Dwight pushes against them just right to make his thighs spasm and force little groans and gasps from his lips.

“Feel so good, dear,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

Dwight’s reduced to moans and grunts as he fucks Carl’s thighs, hands gripping tight to Carl. If his hips didn’t have bruises from before, he’s making sure they do now.

“God, he looks so good fucking you,” Negan says, in awe of the scene before him. “And you…” He smoothes a hand down Carl’s head, petting his hair and scratching at his scalp. “You look so good being fucked. You liking it, pet? You liking Dwight using you like this?”

“Mmhmm,” Carl draws out leaning into the touch. “He’s doing so well, feels so good.”

He just knows that the little finger marks Negan left on him will be joined by Dwight’s and he revels in that as much as the sensation of having his thighs fucked. It’s terribly whorish of him, this want to be used by these two, but the part of him that cares about that gets farther and farther away as time goes on.

“Good. Wonderful.” Negan leans in and presses a kiss to Carl’s head, trailing them down so he can nibble at the shell of his ear. “Tell me, pet. Have you ever been actually fucked? Taken a cock inside that pretty little ass of yours?”

Carl can’t help but shiver. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how filthy Negan can be without any embarrassment. He swallows another soft groan in response to Dwight’s thrusts and Negan’s words.

“No,” he murmurs, “‘s too dangerous on land.”

“I see, love. I see,” Negan coos softly, pressing kisses to Carl’s face. “You pretending Dwight’s really fucking you back there? Filling you up nice and full?”

Carl’s whole stomach swoops at the thought, he can feel his prick dripping over it. He likes this, it’s exactly what he wanted, he enjoys the sensation of Dwight thrusting between his thighs. Carl clenches his thighs together, tensing them up to give Dwight a tighter area for just a bit. “No,” he answers honestly, voice a little breathy, “but it’s definitely an alluring idea.”

“Mm, well you just let us know if you ever want it, eh?” Negan smiles as he swirls a piece of Carl’s hair around his finger before tugging on it. “You’re doing such a good job right now anyhow. Dwight is close. I can tell. The way his head is tossed back, the sound of his moans. I could listen to them all day.”

Carl moans softly, tightening up his thighs once more. He wants to feel Dwight fall over the edge so badly that words escape him.

“Fuck, Carl. Fuck, you’re so perfect. So warm. So tight,” Dwight breathes, bending forward and thrusting a few more times, slow but hard, until he’s groaning out low and coming between Carl’s legs. He collapses on top of Carl, breathing heavy, as he shakes through his orgasm.

Carl relaxes against the desk, luxuriating under Dwight’s weight. “You did so wonderful,” he praises, sneaking a hand down between his thighs to gather some of the spend and foamy aloe to use in stripping his own prick. “Thank you, dear.”

Dwight hums in response, shifting up enough to slip a hand around Carl’s jaw from behind and pull him back gently, making Carl's back arch as Dwight encourages his head to turn so he can kiss him on the lips yet again.

Negan purrs, watching the display like a satisfied cat.

Carl presses into the kiss greedily, hand working quickly in his length. He licks into Dwight’s mouth almost possessively, groaning in pleasure.

Dwight groans back, rocking gently against Carl, his soft length now rubbing against Carl’s ass. “C’mon, love. Come for me,” he murmurs into Carl’s mouth, wanting to know that Carl also got to feel good.

Carl mewls, shutting his eye and twisting his hand around the head of his dick. He manages the mental capacity to catch his spend in his hand as he topples over the edge with a soft moan.

“Good. Wonderful.” Dwight kisses Carl’s cheek before gently releasing his head so he can lay down again. He trails kisses down the back of Carl’s neck as he straightens up and looks down at the boy before him.

Carl’s trembling thighs are a mess of aloe and cum, and the sight should not make the heat boil in his belly as much as it does, but god, it does. Dwight is struck by the thought of, ‘I did that’, and he begins to understand Negan just a little bit more.

That of who is holding out a clean rag to him.

“Ah.” Dwight takes it with a soft thanks, quickly wiping himself down so he can tuck himself away, before working on cleaning up Carl’s thighs.

When Dwight is tenderly cleaning his hand off, Carl leaning against the desk as he lets his legs recover, he can’t help but smile at the two men. “You know I don’t mean for this to keep happening, I suppose I really can’t resist you both.”

He bends when Dwight releases him, shimmying the smalls back up so he can start fixing his skirt back. Side-eyeing Negan good naturedly he says: “Don’t go getting a big head about it.”

“You are hard to resist as well, dear,” Dwight says with a smile and a sigh, drawing Carl in for a tender hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Very hard to resist,” Negan agrees with a grin, standing up and walking over to his lovers. “I’m not hearing any complaints though.”

Carl clutches Dwight to him, pressing his face against his chest. “I really hate to do this and run, but I have to get started early if I’m going to check on the health of the crew tomorrow.”

Negan cocks his head. “You not sleeping here?” he asks, looking crestfallen.

“Negan, you know how sometimes I need a break? So does Carl,” Dwight says, giving Negan a look over Carl’s head. “I don’t want you giving him any flack about it.”

“I won’t. I just didn’t know.”

Carl stands steady, pulling back from Dwight to slightly reach out and grab Negan by his pants to pull him into their hug. “Relax, you’ll see me tomorrow. I might end up having something to report for once.”

“Oh, well… I’ll look forward to it then,” Negan says with a grin, wrapping his arms around the both of them and pulling them in tight. He presses obnoxious kisses to the both of them before they can push him away, laughing softly.

“Goodnight, you two,” Carl huffs sounding far too pleased as he picks up the dinner tray from his seat.

“Good night, love,” rings out as a chorus from the two pirates as they wave Carl out the door.

Carl makes a brief stop by the galley to drop off the dishes, careful not to wake Cook, and moves on to the brig where Carson looks up from his book where he’s laying in his own hammock. “You look like you’ve had fun.”

Carl reaches up to the lantern, dimming it without regard for Carson’s late night reading. “We are not talking about this.”

Carson laughs. “Sleep tight, boy-o.”

Chapter 25

Summary:

Carl fixes up the crew and enjoys some time on deck.

Notes:

R: This chapter has a lot of the side characters in it which I find very nice so hopefully you do too ~

 

“I said ‘m fine! Go check som’n else!” The barrelman waves Carl and his first aid kit away, escaping up the ladder to his crows nest. He didn’t look physically injured, so Carl can only take him at his word for it. There are others still limping about or favoring certain hands, so it’s not like there’s no one else to look at.

“That’s what John said, and I had to cut infection out of his hand,” Carl grumbles to himself, narrowing his eyes at his next target. He only has a couple more before he can escape to the brig, the galley, or even the captain’s cabin.

“Uh oh, doctahs here, and he got his eye on you, Enzo.”

“Fine by me. My leg is still, ah, fucking hurts,” Enzo says with a wince as he shifts his weight as if to show his mate proof.

“Hopefully it ain’t got that infection. ‘M gonna hear John’s screams in m’ sleep.”

“I’m going to throw you all overboard,” Carl says without any real heat. He flaps a hand at Enzo already making to kneel with his basket of medical supplies. “Roll your pant-leg up, man.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Enzo mock salutes before bending down to tug up the left leg of his trousers. “I think it, ah, still has wood in.”

“Wood?” his friend asks, fully invested in this instead of his mopping job.

“Aye, cannonball exploded the, ah, ship railing. The wood…” He makes an explosion with his hands. “… It get into my leg.”

“Christ sake, not a stitch of survivability in any of you,” Carl huffs, voice the same tone as a man cursing ruthlessly. “You’ll have to sit down and let me pull these out, some of them are healing over,” Carl grumbles, grabbing his scalpel and a pair of tweezers. “You best be glad I still have some gin and eucalyptus.”

“Aye.” Stepping over to one of the nearby gunpowder barrels, Enzo hoists himself up and sits upon it. “This good?”

“Good enough,” Carl says, kneeling in front of the man. Figuring he’ll go for the splinters that hurt the least first, Carl gets to work on the ones that aren’t healed over.

“You pirates are all so whiny,” he tuts when he begins on the ones where he has to slice skin to get them out.

Enzo grinds his teeth together, trying not to complain, but he can’t help the little Italian curses that spill from his lips.

When they’re finally all out, Carl wipes his tweezers and scalpel clean, dressing the cuts and old splinter wounds with gin and eucalyptus before wrapping the portion of Enzo’s leg.

“Grazie. Thank you,” Enzo sighs, tugging his pant leg back down. “It is nice having you to take care of us.”

“And it’s nice having a crew to take care of,” Carl says, standing up with his basket in hand, “so all of you should be doing your damnedest to stay alive.”

“Aye, sir.” Enzo grins and hops off the barrel, heading back to work.

Carl casts his eye around the ship wanting to see if anyone still needs his help. By the height of the sun, it would be useless to go to the galley now so if he doesn’t see anyone else he’ll head to the cabin.

“Hey, Carl? They said yer fixin’ wounds.” His next patient walks right up to him, showing a few slices on his arms he’d tried to tie off himself.

A few more men ask to be treated afterwards, and then it seems like everyone on deck is good to go.

Carl takes a deep breath before heading to the captain’s cabin. He can’t help the low level worry he has for some of the crew, but he pushes it in the back burner now that he’s done all he can.

“Can I use your mirror? It’s the only one I know of that’s on board,” he questions as he breezes into the room, glancing at Negan who seems to be working at his desk.

“Sure,” Negan says, barely glancing up as he opens a drawer on his desk and pulls out an ornate golden mirror with a filigree carved handle. He holds it out to Carl, still looking down at the papers on his desk. “Wanna look at that handsome face of yours? Don’t blame you.”

“Sure, we can go with that,” Carl mumbles, taking a seat in his normal chair and setting the mirror up so it’s tilted and he can use both his hands.

He begins to unwrap his face, taking stock of his socket which he hadn’t packed this morning. Everything looks fine enough. Making sure his hair is well out of the way, he grabs his tweezers and smallest scissors and gets to work on the lowest stitch in the soft, easy flesh of his cheek.

It’s not until Carl’s a few stitches in that Negan finally looks up. It takes him a moment, watching Carl neatly cut away another stitch, before the gravity of the situation hits him. “Woah, woah. Hey! Should you be doing that? To yourself? What the fuck?!”

Carl pulls the threading out of the stitch he’s cut, looking up at Negan confusedly. “They’ve been in for a week. Who else would remove them?”

“How about the guy who put them in?” Negan waves a hand towards the door, indicating Carson, wherever he may be. “It just seems unsafe for you to do it yourself.”

“Why's that?” Carl questions, looking back down to the mirror to clip the next stitch, these last few on the bottom are pretty close to the empty socket. “What am I going to do, stab my eye out?”

“Christ, kid,” Negan says with a shake of his head. “How are you even doing it with one eye? Isn’t your aim off?”

“Been practicing,” Carl shrugs, pulling the thread with a wince, he’s started to heal around some of these stitches so they pull the skin more. “Most of it is by feel.”

Negan winces in sympathy, unable to keep looking at Carl lest he gets too in his head about it. “You could always ask me. I’d do it.”

“I adore you, I do,” Carl says gently, clipping the next stitch which seems to be holding part of his bottom lid together and is subsequently uncomfortable. “I’m not letting anyone near my face with scissors.”

Negan sighs, knowing that he’s been beat. “Alright, just… Be careful.” He looks back down to his papers; updates from Dwight that he’s entering into his log book, calculations from Arat that he’s marking on a map, one of the drawings he did the other night that he’s working on refining. He’s bouncing between everything seamlessly, giving Carl glances every so often.

“Well my eyebrow will never be the same,” Carl says lightly as he pulls the very last stitch from his face. “But at least it’s no longer held together with thread.”

He reaches out to his basket, grabbing a mostly used vial of tea tree oil to spread over his face.

“Your poor eyebrow,” Negan says with a laugh, setting down his quill to look at Carl. His face looks better without the stitches for sure, but the slash mark will definitely fade into a hell of a scar. “Could always tattoo on the missing bit, ay?”

“If I get a tattoo it is most certainly not going to be the missing piece of my eyebrow,” Carl snorts, putting the vial away so that he can grab his wrappings.

Negan laughs again and watches him. “What would you get a tattoo of then?” he asks.

Carl hums, securing his bandages. “I don’t really know. I guess I’ve never thought about it.”

“Yeah, I suppose you wouldn’t have back when you were the clean cut lawman’s son, eh?” Negan snorts, taking off his glasses and biting on the end of the ear piece. “Most of mine don’t mean nothing. Got ‘em cause I liked the look. But I got a few that represent people or places that mean a lot to me.”

Carl freezes. He doesn’t know why it didn’t occur to him that Negan would know who he was. Especially after Shane, especially after several navy men joined the crew.

“Yes, right,” he says absently. “I suppose I would just have you and Master Dwight choose one for me.”

Negan hums, gaze heavy on Carl. “I’ll have to think about it myself then.” His first instinct is to want his bite tattooed on Carl forever, but he could just give that to Carl anytime he asked. Speaking of… “By the way, where is it that you’d prefer I bite you? For my future reference.”

Carl flushes. “Terribly frank conversation for the daytime, don’t you think?”

Negan just shrugs, unbothered.

Carl swallows, averting his gaze. He doesn’t quite like marks on his neck and shoulders, perhaps because they’re so easily seen but also because it’s not his favorite place to be touched. “My thighs, perhaps, my hips.”

Wetting his lips, Negan imagines biting into Carl’s soft thigh meat and practically purrs at the thought. “Noted.”

Carl narrows his eye at Negan. “If you bite my ass, I will beat you.”

Groaning, Negan throws his hand over his eyes like a fainting Victorian lady, dramatically falling back into his chair. “Oh, how you wound me, Carl! Deny me the very best things in life, you do! Not even once? One little taste of such a sweet fruit?”

“You’ll have to live without it,” Carl says tonelessly, only vaguely amused by the Captain.

“Ugh.” Negan continues to wither away for a moment longer before finally righting himself, though not without a pout on his face. “‘Least I still have Dwight’s.”

“Still have my what? Do I want to know?” Dwight asks from where he’s poking his head in the door, eyebrow raised. He smiles when he sees Carl, visibly relaxing.

‘No, you don’t,’ Carl mouths in his direction, shaking his head slightly.

“Your beautiful ass, my love,” Negan says with a lecherous grin.

Dwight goes pink almost immediately and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have asked. Anyway, I was just doing my checking rounds before dinner and hadn’t yet spotted our lovely medic, but I see he is here, safe and sound.”

“Safe as can be with this one,” Carl says, hooking his thumb at Negan. “Do you need help with anything?”

“If you’d like to walk the ship with me once more, I’ll just be grabbing dinner after,” Dwight says, already opening the door a bit wider in anticipation.

“I should take some of this back to the brig so we actually have room to eat,” Carl says, standing. He grabs both his large medical kit that’s been living in this room since his own time out of it, and the basket he brought in.

“Sounds good.”

~

“Arat said we should be there soon,” Peter tells Carl about a week later, watching him toss his rope ball around on the helm deck. “If you come on deck at night, look up. You’ll see the star we followin’ almost directly above us.”

“Magnificent, Peter!” Carl says, tossing the ball back to Laura who has agreed to be his partner today, Carson is trying to put together a safe way to practice his throwing with knives. “Have you told Negan?”

“The captain should know already,” Peter says with a little laugh. “He’s been tracking it on his maps the whole way, or at least he’s supposed to be. He asks for updates from Arat and I ‘bout everyday.”

Carl catches his rope ball and steps up some of the stairs, throwing it back to Laura with the different height perception. “In my defense, Peter, I’m not here to know where we are. I’m here as an accessory,” he tells the helmsman half jokingly.

“Sure, Master Carl. If you say so.” Peter smiles, looking out over the crew on the deck. “What do you think we’ll find, ay? Gold? Precious stones?”

“Have some fun with it, Peter,” Carl says, leaning back to catch the ball once again. “You can find gold and jewels anywhere.”

“My imagination was never my strong suit,” Peter says with a sigh, watching Laura almost fumble the ball when it’s her turn to catch it. “I’d love to find somethin’ truly amazing though. Something so astounding, no one else would believe our tale.”

“A herd of pegasi, the sun chariot, an unplotted vacation spot,” Carl lists off, having to jump a little to catch the ball. He can’t tell if Laura’s unpredictability is better or worse for this. “The possibilities are endless.”

“Aye, that they are. I just hope it’s something good. Would hate to travel all this way for nothing, ya know?” Peter sighs again, looking out over the ocean, watching the wake splashing behind the boat. “Hope it’s something I can bring back to my bonnie lass.”

“Well, if not,” Carl says, underhanded throwing the ball to Laura, “I have lots of jewelry I’ve… found, and I certainly wouldn’t mind you picking something for your fair lady.”

“That’s mighty fine of you, Master Carl. I’ll remember it.”

“Oh don’t you start with that too,” Carl clucks.

From the main deck a sudden chorus starts up, a group of men inciting the whole lot of them.

“Oh, a drop of Negan’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm!”

Peter snorts. “They love changing up the lyrics, huh?” He taps his foot to the beat, joining in for the chorus of, “So we’ll roll the old chariot along!”

“So we’ll roll the old chariot along!” Laura says, stamping her feet. It really throws off her next throw, and Carl has to rush to the side so the ball won’t go careening off the ship.

Not one for big sing alongs, but not wanting to keep Laura from joining in, Carl waves the woman off. He tosses the ball between his two hands. “I used to juggle for my sister. Bet I’d drop everything now.”

“I’m sure with some practice you’d be able to do it with yer eye closed,” Peter says, opening his hands in an ‘I’ll catch it’ gesture.

“How much do you want to bet that Carson is attempting to convince Master Dwight and Negan to let me throw knives on the deck?” Carl questions tossing the ball over to Peter. He’s gotten pretty adept with it lately, to the point where it’s more of a game and less practice.

Peter catches it easily, feeling the texture of it in his hands before tossing it back. “I don’t know nothin’ about that, but I’m sure the captain don’t mind it. It’s Master Dwight that I can see makin’ a fuss.”

Carl tilts his head, spinning the ball between his hands before tossing it the short distance back. “You’re right, Negan would probably make it a ship wide competition, the loon.”

Peter throws his head back to laugh, just barely managing to catch the ball in time. “Any other captain would have your head callin’ ‘em something like that. You ain’t wrong though. Captain Morgan is… Unique. Half mad sometimes, but still a fair man.”

“Oh, I adore the man,” Carl says, trying not to laugh at the man fumbling with the ball, “but he can be a bit silly sometimes.”

“Aye. That he can.”

The crew is on a rousing verse of, “Oh, a big breasted girl couldn’t do us any harm,” when Negan walks out of his cabin. He grins and joins in as Dwight and Carson follow him out.

Peter tosses the ball back to Carl before cocking his head towards Negan who looks like he’s having the time of his life. “Speak of the devil, ay?”

“The call of music entices all men,” Carl hums, catching the ball and moving with it in hand to the bannister of the helm so that he can watch the proceedings. No one is around to judge other than Peter if he sweeps his eyes approvingly over his two lovers.

“Aye, and that of a pretty face,” Peter says with a knowing smile, standing next to Carl and humming along with the chorus again.

As the next verse comes around, the crew looks to Negan for the next lyrics. He looks around and spots Carl watching, opening his mouth to sing, “Oh, a long haired boy couldn’t do us any harm!” The crew repeats him jovially, men whooping as loud as they did for the previous verse.

Carl snorts hanging his head and shaking it so that no one can see the way his face flames. “So unserious.”

“Sometimes a bit of fun is what keeps the morale up,” Peter says, nudging Carl with his elbow. “Go on. Give it a try. Offer up a line!”

“Oh no, not for me,” Carl says, lifting a hand, half smile on his face. “Unfortunately I only sing songs I know, and nearly never with others. I’ll listen to them having fun.”

Peter clicks his tongue, shaking his head with a furrowed brow. “You just gotta give ‘em the first line. They’ll take care of the rest,” he says. “Surely you can try that? Once?”

“You aren’t going to leave me alone if I don’t are you?” Carl huffs rhetorically.

He cups a hand next to his mouth on the uninjured side of his face and calls, “Oh a clever captain couldn’t do us any harm!”

“Oh, a clever captain couldn’t do us any harm!” the crew sings, some of them cheering and dancing around Negan who’s just grinning up at Carl like the boy hung the stars.

“See now. ‘S not so hard, is it?” Peter says with a friendly pat to Carl’s shoulder. “Nice being part of the crew and not just an accessory, eh?”

“Oh hush, you. You’re a terrible enabler,” Carl says, jostling his shoulder against Peter’s.

Peter just laughs and enjoys the song for a bit longer before returning to his post.

~

That night, after dinner is had and empty dishes are stacked on Negan’s desk, said captain leans back in his chair and takes a swig from his mug.

“Ah, today was a good day,” he says, licking his lips. “We’re close to our destination too. Can you feel it? That prickly feeling in the air? Anticipation roiling in your belly?”

“Think that’s just your dinner digesting, love,” Dwight offers with a snort into his mug.

“Either way,” Carl muses, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “I feel I should practice some swordplay before we dock anywhere, I wouldn’t want to be wholly unprepared.”

“We can cross swords tomorrow, as long as Dwighty boy says it’s okay,” Negan says with a bounce of his eyebrows towards Carl and a tilt of his head towards Dwight.

“I, of course, defer to you, Master Dwight,” Carl agrees, though it feels a bit odd that Negan wouldn’t have final say on the matter as the higher power.

Dwight hums, swirling his rum about his mug. “Well, you have been making progress with everything. I’ve seen the way you walk and work around the ship. You’re good with your ball.” He takes a sip and shrugs. “If Negan thinks you’re ready, then I’m okay with it.”

“Brilliant,” Carl says, grinning so quickly he almost forgets to correct it to avoid the muscle spasms. He looks from Dwight to Negan. “You better not try to go too easy on me. I’ll never learn that way, and I certainly never had Shane or Father go easy on me.”

Carl taps the guard of his rapier absently, shaking his head. “You would think I was extraordinarily bad at it from how many sprains and broken bones I got in comparison to the privates.”

“That… doesn’t make me feel better about giving my permission,” Dwight says with a frown.

“Oh hush, Negan is a far more gentle man than Shane Walsh,” Carl says, completely unworried.

“Ah, ah. But you already did give it,” Negan says with a grin over the rim of his mug. “How about I start off easy, see where you’re at, and then I’ll give it my all if I think you can handle it. Sound good?”

“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” he agrees, nodding along.

“Great! Oh, I’m excited,” Negan says with a little giddy chuckle.

“I can already foresee the crew watching you two like it’s live entertainment,” Dwight says with a snort.

“Yes, it’s going to be terribly entertaining for them to watch their captain trounce a boy in a skirt,” Carl pauses in thought. “Well, I suppose plenty of them are very unhappy with me right now considering I had to cut infection out of at least two of them and pull metal and wood out of others.”

Negan laughs into his mug, while Dwight shrugs. “I’m pretty sure that actually has endeared you to them. They know you did it to help, and they’ll be very grateful when those wounds heal quickly and without problems.”

“I’ll take your word for it, dear,” Carl decides. He taps his rapier again. “I wonder if we should practice the first few times with something other than swords, I wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt anyone.”

Looking around, Negan hums. “I don’t have any training swords on board. What could we use?”

“Mops?” Dwight suggests, swirling his drink again.

“We have at least four,” Carl points out. “They are what most people learn with initially.”

“Alright, then. I challenge you to a mop fight, Sir Carl. Tomorrow after breakfast, ay?” Negan leans forward and holds out his mug towards Carl for a toast.

Carl laughs softly, grabbing his empty mug from the desk to click it against Negan’s. “Sounds wonderful, love.”

Chapter 26

Summary:

One eyed sword practice is under way~

 

 

“Choose your weapon, sailor.”

Lined up against the railing are all four mops on board the ship. They’ve seen better days for sure, but they will work for their sword practice purposes.

“I’m making this fair so I won’t instinctively reach for anything else,” Carl says, pulling off his sword belt. He falters, not liking the idea of leaving these unattended and out in the open.

“Keep an eye on these for me?” he asks, already reaching to buckle them around Dwight’s hips.

“Oh!” Dwight laughs and raises his hands up to give Carl room to tighten the belt. “Sir, yessir.”

“Shall I give you mine as well?” Negan asks, unlatching his scabbarded sword from his belt and handing that to Dwight. “You are so good at handling swords, my dear.”

“Uh huh.” Dwight attaches Negan’s sword to Carl’s belt and waves them away. “Go on. Pick your mops.”

Carl was adept with more than one type of sword before his eye was cut out but he has always favored the rapier for its reach, lightness, and elegance. He grabs one of the longer mops, checking to see if the mop-head can be unscrewed. A smart man might keep the head on the mop for balance and to prevent it from being easily pulled from his hand, but…

“This is disgusting,” he murmurs, taking the mop head off and setting it to the side. He gives a couple of testing swings with the mop handle before looking up to Negan.

Negan follows Carl’s lead, also not wanting to swing around dirty mop water, and pops the head off the one he’s chosen. He gets a feel for it in his hands, swinging and jabbing with it, before nodding.

“Alright. Let’s move over here where it’s clear and do some simple moves first to see where you are with things.”

Carl shifts the stick in his hand, rolling his wrist and sweeping the implement in a few short slashes. It’s certainly different from a sword, nearly more difficult to maneuver.

“Parrying with this is going to be a nightmare,” Carl says finally, settling in a loose ready position.

Negan laughs and nods, getting his feet stable and raising his mop handle. “Yeah, but at least if we hit each other we won’t take chunks out.” He waves at Carl in a come hither motion, sinking into a defensive position.

Carl thinks the first strike is the most unsure he’s ever been in swordplay. Even as a child he was confident in such matters. He reminds himself after the first block that Negan is an accomplished swordsman as well and can easily protect himself from any of Carl’s slashes that go awry.

His next strikes are more confident, though he’s careful not to put his usual cocky flourishing into the movements. It’s not as fun without his dips and spins and parries but that isn’t the point of this exercise.

“Good, Carl. Good,” Negan says as he blocks another hit. He can see the way Carl is coming out of his shell a bit more as they go on, though he looks nothing like how Negan saw him fighting the navy men. This Carl is controlled and stiff, monitoring his body and his new perspective.

When Negan thinks Carl has gotten the feel for the basic swings down, he silently moves off the defensive and swings an attack on Carl’s blind side, aiming for his shoulder.

Even with the strike being on his dominant side, Carl’s first thought is his left hand jerking to his waist for his dagger. He’s blessedly able to correct himself before he gets very far, letting the weight of the mop-handle slide back in his hand and shoving his hand up in the air to block the strike with the new end of his weapon.

He shifts, putting more weight on his back foot. Twisting up in a sloppy parry that would do better with the resistance of a sword, he takes their sticks over and left to where he can see it again. “That was mean.”

Negan laughs, smile all teeth. “Most people you’ll fight will also be mean,” he says, sliding his handle along Carl’s before popping it off the end and taking a step back. “You did good though. I want you to be prepared for attacks from your right side. People are going to see your missing eye as a disadvantage to you and try to come from that direction. Want you ready for anything.”

“Yeah, well, if this were a real fight I would have stepped into your space and gutted you with my dagger,” Carl huffs, readjusting the mop-handle in his grip. “I suppose it helps that my dominant hand is on my blind side,” he says with a sigh.

“Yeah, I’m sure it does. Also, you may not always have your dagger for a number of reasons, so just humor me, huh?” Negan snorts and steps back in, swiping downwards with an easy to block swing. “Now, come on. Show me what you’ve got and earn back your sword from Dwight.”

“It would be awfully bold to assume he could keep it from me,” Carl says, clicking his tongue as he blocks and sweeps the strike out of the way. He steps in the same move to his left where he’s surer, mirroring Negan’s first swing in a feint before switching the angle of his mop-handle and jerking upwards where if unblocked the point of a sword would slide up through the armpit into the joint of the shoulder… Negan’s bad shoulder.

“Woah!” Negan manages to block the attack, pushing back against Carl’s handle and bringing them in close together. Negan grins between the crossed mops. “Alright, kid. Touché. Don’t put me out of commission before we really get to practice now though.”

Carl hums, completely unbothered by the proximity. “Oh dear, and here I was thinking you wanted me to be mean.”

He shoves forward, knocking the handle end of his stick into Negan’s stomach enough to take the wind out of him whilst sliding out of the way in case he does actually double over.

“Oof!” Negan coughs and rubs at the spot where Carl hit him, using his mop handle like a staff to prop himself up for a moment. “Christ, kid. You’re ruthless.”

“Come on, boys. Keep it clean. This is for helping Carl, not seeing who has the biggest dick,” Dwight huffs, crossing his arms as he leans against the rail.

“Well we both know that answer,” Carl mumbles, turning to give Dwight a half-smile. “I defer to you, Master Dwight.”

“Alright, alright. C’mon then. Basic drills now. No fun allowed,” Negan says with a laugh, sliding back into a defensive position.

Carl shrugs and takes a stance for one of the drill sets he’s been doing since he could barely stand. Running through the exercise almost absently, only putting more force behind each form when he meets harder resistance. It is the kind of thing he really could do blindfolded and while he appreciates the idea of getting back to the basics it isn’t helpful in his personal opinion.

They run the drills for a little while, some of the crew stopping by to watch as they go about their day. Negan ups the difficulty when it seems like Carl is getting bored of a particular set, trying to keep his attention.

By the end of a couple hours they’re both panting and sweating, each with their own bruises forming from where the other managed to get a couple hits in. Negan’s rubbing one on his side when he calls an end to things.

“Let’s take a rest, huh? Sit in some shade for a minute,” he says, watching as Dwight brings them each a cup of drink like the angel he is.

“You are a godsend, my dear,” Carl murmurs, taking the drink gratefully and moving to lay out on the deck where the main sail casts a large shadow. He stretches out, resting his mug on his chest, and then finally realizes he never changed like he intended to.

“I suppose the skirt doesn’t hamper my movements too terribly,” he comments to himself.

Negan leans against the mast, sipping his drink while Dwight reattaches his sword to his belt for him. When he’s done, Negan smiles and draws him in for a quick kiss.

“How’s about we call it a day, Carl? I think you’re fine enough to use your sword if you want to continue tomorrow,” Negan says, sliding down the mast to sit by Carl’s head. “The danger of the sword might even be a good thing. Help you focus or somethin’.”

“I’d like to try with the sword tomorrow, but I’m starting to think that I will never go all out with you,” Carl sighs, eyes closed as he tilts his head against Negan’s thigh.

“I’d rather appreciate if you didn’t. Don’t want either of us getting hurt,” Negan says with a chuckle, letting his fingers play in Carl’s hair. “I’m sure Dwight would appreciate it too.”

“I wouldn’t want to worry Master Dwight,” Carl says lightly before sitting up a little to take a sip of his drink.

“Aye.” Negan looks over to where Dwight is talking to Carson, Carl’s swords still belted around his hips. “He looks good with your swords on him. Might have to let him keep ‘em.”

“It would be unwise,” Carl says, though he still takes in the welcome sight of it. “They wouldn’t obey him the way they do me.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Negan chuckles softly, tangling his fingers into the ends of Carl’s hair. “Well, I’m excited to see how they behave for you tomorrow.”

“You do realize I’m not being facetious, correct?” Carl hums, turning his gaze on Negan. “Those weapons were finely crafted for me and me alone. They quite literally will not be wielded by anyone as well as I do.”

“Mm. I see. Designed for your hand only. Weighted for you and such?” Negan hums, looking back at Carl and running his fingers down the line of his nose. “Sounds fancy.”

“I’ll admit, the rapier was a gift,” Carl fesses up. “The dagger was all me, it’s something I wanted desperately and therefore it is also very dear to me.”

“You mean you made the dagger, or you had it commissioned?” Negan asks, his fingers trailing over Carl’s jaw like he’s just tracing his face.

Carl laughs softly. “Negan, I am skilled at many things, but these hands are not made for the smithy.”

He closes his eye, allowing the captain to do as he wishes. “I mean every piece of that dagger is made from material I bought with my money not my family’s. I designed it. I sat in on every forging session. Daryl even taught me to make the hunting snares that snared the rabbit that the leather of the handle is made of.”

“Damn. You just about made it yourself. This Daryl guy did a damn good job anyhow. I remember from it being wedged into my shoulder.” Negan snorts, circling around Carl’s ear and up to his temple.

Carl hums his agreement. “That dagger is precious to me, I treasure it more than anything in this world.” Likely not something you should say to someone you’re in a relationship with, but if Carl is anything it’s honest. “I’ll die with it in my hand or in my chest. I’ve no doubt.”

Negan makes a soft noise, taking a sip of his drink. He runs the backs of his fingers over Carl’s cheek, under his good eye. “Let’s hope for hand, yeah?”

“Yes, that’s the hope,” Carl murmurs, pressing into Negan’s touch slightly. Weeks ago this kind of tenderness out in the open might have scared him, but now he feels like he searches it out.

Negan takes another sip of his drink before setting it down, turning a bit towards Carl so he can really look down at him as he traces his features. The nice day, nice drink, nice company must have him in a mood because Carl’s story has him thinking back to his own childhood, and he can’t stop his mouth from speaking.

“When I was a lad, little younger than you, my mother got me a blade as a birthday present,” he says, softly. “Now, mind you, we did not have a lot of money. She had saved up weeks, probably months, of her meager earnings to buy this for me. She told me I was the man of the house since my dad skipped out on us years ago, and that I needed a way to protect myself and her.”

He pauses to take a breath, story not yet done but emotion welling in his chest.

Carl reaches up, grasping Negan’s hand and giving it a squeeze against his cheek. He hopes it conveys the support Negan needs for his story without him having to interrupt the man.

He opens his eye, looking up at the captain, waiting for more.

“I sold it,” Negan says, squeezing Carl’s hand back. “The next day, I sold it. I thought we could use the money for food, something that was scarce at my home.

“I was so excited to show my mother the money, I raced home. I wanted her to be proud of me for some reason. That I chose food over a knife, or something. But… She just looked heartbroken when I showed her. I couldn’t understand it at the time, but I get it now.”

Carl can almost picture it. Young Negan, kind and sweet, thinking about feeding his mother, thinking about how a knife was a waste of money. He understands where Negan was coming from, but he also understands how the man’s mother must have felt.

He doesn’t speak, figuring Negan still has more to say. He does shift though, sitting up to lean himself into the captain’s side. Something to say he’s here to listen to whatever Negan wants to get off his chest.

Negan gives a little smile to Carl, wrapping his arm around him. The support is appreciated. “I tried to buy the knife back,” he says. “But the man had paid me less than the knife was worth and refused to sell it to me unless I had the full amount. I offered to work for him, to make up the difference, but he wouldn’t hear it.”

Negan sighs. “After that, my mother got very sick. I’d wanted to save the money and try to earn more to buy the knife back, but I ended up spending it all on a doctor visit and some medicine. She died shortly after.”

“I’m sorry that you lost her,” Carl tells the man earnestly. “I understand what you were trying to do, it was sweet.”

“Yeah,” Negan breathes, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Carl’s temple. “I was angry for a long time. Angry at myself and the world. Ended up behind bars for a bit ‘cause I got caught trying to steal that damn knife.” He laughs softly, leaning back to rub at his face. “It seems like forever ago. Crazy how time flies.”

“Being angry at everything, that’s something that I know well,” the boy says, preparing to say something impossibly sappy. “I’m sorry it had to happen, but I’m glad it brought you here.”

Negan smiles, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Carl’s temple. “Aye, me too. It wasn’t too long after that stay behind bars that I jumped onto a boat to get away from there.”

Carl gives him a soft look before lifting his mug a little. “To jumping on board to get away from places?”

Laughing, Negan picks up his mug and clunks it against Carl’s. “Hear hear!” he calls before downing the rest of his drink.

~

Carl gets into a fighting position, rapier in hand. His dagger has been given to Dwight once again to keep any instinctive stabbings at bay. He takes a deep breath, nodding to Negan. “Okay, let’s see how this goes with swords.”

Negan swings his own sword through the air, getting readjusted to the lighter weight since the day before. “Keep things low, and we’ll do some simple drills to start off with like yesterday. Okay?” He moves into defense, sword up and ready.

“Low,” Carl repeats, nodding as he sweeps forward to do one of the simpler drill sets from the day before. The metal scraping is a lot more familiar than the annoying clacks of the mop handles.

“Good,” Negan says as they fall into easy step, swords meeting again and again like a rehearsed dance. The blades are easier to maneuver than the mop handles were, both of them obviously more in their element this time. “Tell me if anything feels off or if you want to move on.”

“I fear it will be the opposite,” Carl confesses, as they move across the part of the deck they’ve set aside for themselves. “It all feels so normal, I have concerns that I’ll become too sure of myself.”

Negan hums, clashing their blades and pushing forward. “Perhaps you should try blocking while I attack then? I can try to be… unpredictable.” He bounces his eyebrows, sliding his sword off Carl’s.

“Yes, because everything you do is just so predictable,” Carl says sarcastically as he takes a step back with the push of Negan’s blade and slides into a more defensive position once their swords are no longer connected.

Negan laughs and flourishes his blade off to the side. He doesn’t say anything before attacking, starting off with an easy enough slash from the left aiming for Carl’s side.

Carl, having complete vision on the left, is reasonably confident in his block and redirect. A part of him wonders what it would have been to fight this man before he cared about him as he moves fluidly into the next block.

Negan stays where he knows Carl can fully see him for a bit as he comes from the side and the top, before he starts throwing in slashes from Carl’s blind side. He wants to challenge the boy without accidentally hurting him. Finding the medium of pushing him without holding back is oddly difficult.

“You’re being obvious so I won’t get hurt,” Carl grumbles, parrying another slash on his blindside. “How am I supposed to learn with you treating me as a child?”

“Alright, alright. Humor me for a second. Turn around. I want to see where your blind spot ends.” Negan draws a circle in the air with his finger.

Carl makes a confused sound but turns anyway. “How exactly are you going to determine that?”

“Just tell me when you can see my sword without straining to look. Don’t turn your head or anything, okay?” Negan waits a moment before raising up his sword along Carl’s right side, moving it slow to determine where his vision starts and stops.

Carl frowns because he knows that he could practically see people coming up behind him with both eyes. Now though, he knows that he stops being able to see around when Negan is parallel to his right side.

“There,” he admits, weakly.

In a face to face fight he can see someone’s arm extending out and block or parry as needed. It’s easier, but this just proves he’s a liability.

“Hmm.” Negan steps close behind Carl, tucking his sword away for the moment. He eases his hand up along the right side of Carl’s face, waving it up and down in what he now knows is entirely dead space for Carl.

“Alright, new plan,” Negan says, clapping Carl on the shoulder to spin him back around. “How about you fight me face on, and we have Dwight fight you from your side?”

Dwight perks up from where he’s been leaning on the railing watching. “What?”

“Or whichever way, but I think the element of surprise you need to challenge you is having someone coming from your right when you can’t see them.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Carl questions. He trusts Dwight not to hurt him but he doesn’t know if he trusts himself not to hurt anyone else in his ineptitude. “I’m up for it, but I need to know that the two of you are prioritizing your safety in hand with mine,” Carl says, glancing between them. Maybe he should have asked Arat and Carson to help him with this instead.

“It’ll be fine. I want you still on defense. Just block us, and you shouldn’t hit anyone,” Negan says as Dwight comes over and stands at Carl’s side.

“If you want to try something else we can, but I see Negan’s logic in this,” Dwight says, drawing his sword.

Carl sighs, loosens up, and draws his rapier once more sliding into a defensive position. “Of course I see the logic, I just have fair concerns.”

“No worries, love. My skills are just as good as Negan’s.” Dwight squeezes Carl’s shoulder before backing up a few steps to stand to the back right of Carl, letting Negan initiate an attack from the front.

“That's not what I’m worried about,” Carl mumbles, trying not to blush, before lifting his rapier to block.

Dwight waits until Carl seems pretty into it with Negan before stepping forward and slashing sideways, aiming for Carl’s upper arm.

He doesn’t see it, he’s physically incapable after all, but the way Negan’s eyes flick minutely to the side and then the barely there creak of the deck floor over the ocean has him shifting and turning until he’s in Negan’s space rather than his own. He sweeps he and Negan’s blades upward, catching Dwight’s sloppily where theirs cross.

“That’s, um, not what I was supposed to do was it?” Carl asks after a moment of silence.

Negan starts to laugh softly, winding his free arm around Carl’s waist while Dwight just blinks in surprise. “No, I don’t think stepping into the enemy's arms would be quite what you’re meant to do, but good job on sensing where Dwight was.”

“Yes, well, that’s the problem isn’t it?” Carl huffs but leans into Negan. “You aren’t an enemy. If you were, I would have fractured your ribs when I got this close.”

“Well, that’s good to know! You could fracture my ribs and defend against the other guy over here-” he shakes their sword hands “-and then keep fighting. So, let’s try again where you don’t come in for a cuddle, but know that this would work. I guess.”

“Not sure how good of a teacher you are at this,” Dwight says with a snort, sliding his sword away and stepping back into position.

“We can practice all day, but we still won’t know if I’m a liability until we’re in an actual fight,” Carl says, though he still moves back into position.

“I’m pretty sure you’d be able to fight your way out of anything,” Negan says with a chuckle, spinning his sword in his hand. “C’mon now let’s do it again!”

Once again Negan goes in from the front, clashing swords a little stronger, a little more excited than before. They get into a groove before Dwight steps in, making to slash at Carl’s back.

Carl darts down and to the left, pushing out from between the two men and slamming his foot into the railing of the ship to throw his balance back around. It forces Negan to have to defend against Dwight instead and allows Carl to slam the pommel of his rapier against Negan’s good shoulder.

“Woah!” Negan staggers a bit, Dwight reaching quickly out to catch him with his free hand, careful of their crossed swords between them. “There ya go, kid!” Negan laughs and turns, following through with the motion to bring his sword down on Carl.

Slashing his rapier up, Carl redirects Negan’s sword, pushing out wide so that he can step back in. If this were a true three way fight Negan would have never put his back to Dwight in such a way because the blond would have attacked him.

Carl pushes his hip against Negan’s side with as much force as he can manage while moving to - not intercept because Dwight isn’t attacking Negan as he should - but slash his sword in the blond’s direction with the intent to back him off.

Dwight matches Carl’s slashes though, moving in while Negan is stumbling away from the hip check. Their swords clang and clash as Dwight pushes Carl to walk backward, a small crowd of crew coming to watch.

It gives Negan time to reorient himself and jog up on Carl’s bad side, kicking out his foot instead of his sword in an attempt to sweep Carl’s leg out from under him.

Carl sees the movement just in time, jumping over the sweeping leg and twisting around when he lands so that he can kick the unsteady captain’s other foot. He almost misses Dwight’s next swing, having to step firmly away from both men to dodge it before he can intercept the blond’s next with his rapier.

Dwight laughs softly as Negan topples to his ass, but he keeps his attention on Carl, fighting him face to face. “I think you’re doing quite well for yourself, dear,” he says as he parries Carl’s next move before returning it with a side swipe. “You have good sense of what’s around you despite your lack of vision.”

Carl is pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to pull this move if Dwight wasn’t distracted talking to him. He redirects Dwight’s sideswipe, letting go of his rapier when their arms are raised, catching the blade with his off-hand just under the handle where it’s dull. He slides into Dwight’s space catching the guard of the blond’s sword with his handle and twisting it out of his hand.

Dwight’s sword goes skidding and Carl lifts his sword to press the pommel against Dwight’s throat. “I think maybe I’m just too aware of where the two of you are.”

“Well, I suppose that’s flattering,” Dwight says with a smile, his hands up in surrender.

“Very,” says Negan from out of Carl’s right side right before he slides his arms around Carl’s waist and tugs him gently away from Dwight.

Carl grunts, leaning into the man as he slides his rapier into its sheath. “You are incredibly lucky he still has my dagger.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Negan says with a laugh. “I wouldn’t attempt this if he didn’t. I don’t plan on having that pretty dagger stuck in me again.”

Carl hums softly in agreement . “I suppose we’re done then?”

Picking up his sword, Dwight sheathes it before unhooking Carl’s dagger from his belt. “Do you feel confident in your skills?” he asks, holding the dagger out to Carl. “We can go more if you’d like.”

“I think,” Carl says, taking his dagger and moving to put it in its proper place, “that until I genuinely fight someone who isn’t crew, I’ll be concerned.”

“He cares about us all too much,” Negan murmurs, pressing a kiss to Carl’s cheek. “It was good practice nonetheless. Good to see that you can handle yourself, even if we were all holding back.”

“Hm,” Carl voices before gently removing himself from the man’s arms. “Alright, I’m going to help Cook. At least there I won’t be badgered by overwhelming sentiment.” He glances between the two men. “See you both at dinner?”

“Of course, love,” Dwight says, smiling as Negan moves to hug him instead. “We’ll see you then.”

“Give Cook our warmest regards.”

“Will do,” Carl calls, waving almost absently over his shoulder as he marches down to the galley.

~

After dinner, Negan lays down prematurely in his bed, leaving Dwight and Carl in their chairs. “Think you wore me out over these last two days, pet,” he says, stretching out and then relaxing into his mattress with a sigh. “We should be landing tomorrow hopefully. It’ll be nice to stretch our land legs.”

“If I have any land legs left,” Carl jokes lightly even though he has some concerns that his balance will be off from relearning it on a ship. He yawns a little. “It might be nice to go to bed a little early.”

Negan hums, looking over the two. “You could come over here and keep me company, ay?” He reaches out a hand, making a grabbing motion towards Carl.

Dwight snorts softly, still sipping at his grog. “That’s for you,” he says with a gesture towards Negan. “He’s been clingy lately when you’re not around. I’ve done my time.”

“Yes, because it’s such a prison sentence,” Carl snorts. He starts working his rings and bracelets off after finishing off his grog. They get piled on the desk with his necklaces and he kicks off his boots, pushing them neatly under the desk.

“You aren’t staying?” Carl asks, already standing up, hands at the buckles of his sword belts.

“Never said that,” Dwight says with a coy smile, crossing a leg over the other and bouncing his foot. “Just don’t feel like going to bed quite yet.”

“You’re secretly just as much of a lecher as he is.” Carl pauses for a moment after he says it, realizing he’s said something without meaning to again. These men have that effect on him. He tuts. “I swear I was well behaved before I got on this ship.”

Dwight laughs softly, shrugging. “Guilty as charged, I’m just less loud about it. And I think you’re plenty well behaved.”

“I like watching you unravel from your prim and proper upbringing,” Negan comments, his arm hanging off the bed now. “It’s fun.”

“You’re both giving me very different views right now,” Carl says, chuckling as he sets aside his weapons and starts to work at the laces on his stays. Taking off this one piece of clothing makes everything else on him so entirely easy for them to take off of him if they want to and he tries not to let that thought falter his hands.

Dwight just shrugs again, watching Carl undress with a soft smile. “Think our definitions of well behaved are just a bit different.”

“Mine and you two’s, or you and Negan’s?” Carl asks, taking a deep breath as he sets aside his stays and goes to unlatch his dagger.

“Both? All?” Dwight laughs, taking a sip of his drink.

“Mine is definitely from his,” Negan provides from the bed. “And I’m sure mine is different from yours, pet. Very sure.”

Carl’s eye slips half closed at the endearment, he fears it gives Negan far too much power over him. He’s about to lean back up when he sees his stockinged feet and he wonders if he should take them off. He’s seen both men walk around in here with bare feet so it should be safe.

“Don’t I know it,” Carl says finally, half sitting in the chair again to unlace his stockings from above his knees.

Dwight’s eyebrows go up at the sight, but he hides his mouth in his mug, afraid that if he says something Carl might change his mind about taking off his stockings.

Negan, though, can only wait until Carl has one off before opening his mouth. “Oh, what a treat. You’re so good for us.”

“You’re an idiot,” Carl huffs, tucking his first stocking in the correct boot before moving into his second.

“Mm, but I’m your idiot, eh?” Negan says with a grin, eyes roaming all the bare skin of Carl’s legs.

“Both of ours,” Dwight says.

“Aye. Both.”

“Well I don’t plan on giving you away any time soon,” Carl answers, tucking his other stocking away and standing with his dagger. “Either of you.”

“Good,” Dwight says, a soft blush touching his cheeks.

“Great,” Negan says, grinning and reaching for Carl again.

Carl rolls his eye - it still feels weird in his empty socket - and makes his way over to the man, sliding his dagger under the usual pillow and allowing Negan to tug him wherever he pleases.

“Oh, c’mere, pet. Want you on top of me for a minute. Wanna feel you. Please?” Negan says, taking Carl’s hand and trying to guide him over his hips.

Carl curls his fingers in his skirt, tucking it up just enough to slide, facing Negan, into the man’s lap. “I suppose you deserve the attention after helping me these last few days,” he murmurs, trying for flippant.

Negan’s hands go immediately to Carl’s hips, getting him steady as he grins up at him. “Oh, yes. Hello there.” Negan’s hands slide down to the hem of Carl’s skirt, sneaking underneath to run up and down the outsides of Carl’s thighs. “Mm. Like you up there, pet. Look so good.”

“You are just so full of flattery,” Carl tuts but he can’t help but enjoy the callousness of Negan’s hands against his skin, it’s almost relaxing.

“Only to those who deserve to be flattered,” Negan says, squeezing at Carl’s thighs gently, like a big cat kneading biscuits. He practically purrs as he slides his hands down to Carl’s knees and then down along the side of his calves. Bare skin that has been hidden beneath stockings, so warm and silky now.

Carl could revel in the touch, just let himself melt into it if he wanted to. He assumes it comes from not getting much touch like this before coming on the ship. He thinks if he melts into it though he’ll lean forward and just drift off on top of Negan.

The boy swallows, trying to come up with something to keep his attention. “Good that Master Dwight is around then, I think.”

“Aye, he’s doing a good job too. Watching you be so lovely for me.” Negan glances to Dwight who hasn’t moved but to set his empty mug down, hands now loosely clasped in his lap as he watches. Negan shifts his hands back under Carl’s skirt, digging his thumbs in along the soft inner part of Carl’s thighs.

Carl’s chuckle is a bit thin, trying not to react too heavily to Negan's hands on him. “Yes, well, I suppose this is a vast improvement to the first time I was over you in this bed.”

Negan laughs softly. “That time was nice too, for a little bit anyway. After all…” He reaches up one hand to cup Carl’s face, running his thumb across Carl’s bottom lip. “That’s when I first got to see your pretty face. Honestly thought I was already dead and you were the angel at the pearly gates.”

Carl nips at Negan’s thumb. “Don’t be a shit. I was literally going to murder you.”

“Are you glad you didn’t?” Negan asks with a soft smile, eyes tracking around Carl’s face.

“It varies from moment to moment,” Carl says lightly, it’s clear he’s joking.

Negan snickers, dropping his hand down to tug on the front of Carl’s shirt. “C’mere, you little spitfuck. Let me kiss you.”

“You know, I like that name,” Carl snarks, leaning down to kiss the man. “It fits.”

Negan laughs, burying his hands into Carl’s hair when he gets close enough, capturing a kiss from his lips with a soft noise.

Hands balanced on Negan’s chest, the boy lets out a pleased hum, opening up for the pirate without needing to be plied.

Negan rumbles in glee at how easy Carl has become. He remembers back when he could hardly be in Carl’s space, and now here he is, so deliciously letting Negan kiss him like he’s done it his whole life. And, god, could Negan kiss Carl forever.

In some ways, Carl thinks Negan is a bit like a big cat. He can feel the vibration of Negan’s chest against his palms and he can’t help but smile a little into the kiss. He’s sure it makes the kiss a bit awkward so he forces it away, focusing on Negan’s mouth.

The heat pooling in Negan’s belly from their kiss is warm and pleasant, but for once he doesn’t feel like pushing for it. He really is tired, and kissing Carl feels so good that he doesn’t really need more. If Carl wanted it, Negan wouldn’t say no, but right now tracing Carl’s teeth with his tongue is all Negan needs.

Carl sighs softly into the kiss, content. He lets his weight settle more on Negan, arms crossing over the man’s chest. It slightly changes the angle of the kiss but not enough to have to pull away. He half thinks if Negan goes back to petting him and feeling him up, without the focus of the kiss, he’ll fall asleep right here.

Negan hums softly, loving the feel of Carl relaxing over him. He keeps one hand buried in Carl’s hair, massaging his scalp softly, while sliding the other over Carl’s back. His warmth and weight settled over Negan feels so good, and he hopes Carl doesn’t choose to move to go to sleep.

Carl pulls slightly back from the kiss to get a breath in, arching into the touch a bit. “Gonna put me to sleep if you don’t stop.”

“That’s alright. Go to sleep, pet. ‘M not stopping you,” Negan murmurs, pressing soft kisses to Carl’s cheek and keeping up his gentle touches.

Something about it is comforting. A part of him, a very distant and foolish part, thinks perhaps he’s not pretty enough anymore for Negan to instigate something with. The larger part of him, however, is reveling in the easy comfort that is offered.

“You say that now,” Carl mumbles sleepily, moving a bit so that he can rest his head on his crossed arms, “but you won’t be saying the same when I’m passed out like an anchor on top of you.”

“Hun, I’d never push you off me. Love how you feel on me. Weighing me down into the depths of the subconscious.” Negan says while his own eyes close, fingers still drawing light shapes on Carl’s back. “You stay there all you like.”

Carl thinks, already half asleep as he goes lax on top of Negan, that at least this way Dwight will have more room. “M’kay,” he mumbles around a yawn.

Negan smiles and begins to hum his lullaby softly, only stopping for a moment when the bed dips as Dwight climbs in and gets settled. He kisses Negan and Carl before curling up beneath the blanket and closing his eyes.

Sleep calls to them all as the boat gently rocks them away.

Chapter 27

Summary:

The boys have some fun in bed together.

Notes:

R: This chapter is all smut you’re welcome XD

 

A beam of morning light casts over Dwight’s face and stirs him from his dreams. He groans softly and turns over, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He’s all set to close them again and go right back to sleep when he notices something.

It seems that Carl did fall asleep on top and astride Negan and stayed there all night. They look cute the way Carl’s passed out on Negan’s chest, rising and falling with each of his soft snores. Dwight smiles. It’s a rare sight to see Carl sleep in a different position than on his back.

Carl doesn’t dream, never really has, but he gets impressions of things sometimes. Occasionally he’ll wake in a better mood or in a cold sweat.

This morning, he hasn’t woken though. His hips are rocking minutely, rutting his hard-on into Negan’s hip just enough for friction. He lets out a soft keen in his sleep, warm and aroused.

Dwight has just closed his eyes again when the noise startles them open. He looks Carl over, wondering what it could have been, when he notices the soft movements of Carl’s hips. Oh.

Carl’s eye is still closed, his breathing normal, so Dwight can only assume that Carl is having a very pleasant dream. He bites his lip around a smile. It’s kind of a turn on watching him rut against Negan while they’re both asleep, but he also feels like he shouldn’t be looking.

Or maybe, not the only one looking.

Reaching out he pokes at Negan’s face, doing nothing more than stuttering his snores. Dwight huffs and clamps a hand over Negan’s mouth and nose.

Negan startles awake, but Dwight is quick to release him and shush him softly, moving closer so he can whisper in Negan’s ear. “Don’t move too much. Just feel what Carl’s doing.”

Whatever is under Carl jolts for a moment, upsetting his soft thrusts. He lets out a discontent sound, pressing hard against the warmth, before canting his hips again in a particularly pleasant way that makes him groan quietly. He’s starting to come to a little, but not enough yet to drag himself out of the heady, comfortable space he’s in though.

“Oh…” Negan breathes out into the air above him, eyes going wide. He turns his head to look at Dwight who is smiling wide, eyebrows raised. “He’s asleep?” Negan whispers as soft as he can. Dwight nods.

“Far as I can tell.”

“Fuck…” Negan’s fingers ache to touch the boy using him, to rock his hips up in response. He loves that Carl is comfortable enough on him to be having such dreams as this. He wonders if there’s images beneath Carl’s lids or just feelings.

If he comes in his smalls again, he’s going to be pissed, Negan thinks, reaching up to gently rest his hands on Carl’s hips and encourage his movements.

It’s the hands on him that finally coax him into wakefulness. Carl’s hips don’t really stop, the motion almost more comforting than it is arousing as he tries to figure out what’s going on. From the light in the room it’s even earlier than he usually wakes up.

He shifts his arms, shoulders stiff from sleep and lets out a puff of breath that’s almost a yawn but not quite, rolling his knuckles over his eye to knock away some of the brain fog. Finally coming to realize where he is, Carl stills his hips, blinking blearily up at the two men.

“S’rry,” he mumbles, “M’rnin’.”

“Mornin’, love,” Dwight says with a warm smile from where he’s pressing his pink face into Negan’s shoulder.

“Mornin’. No need to be sorry, though, pet,” Negan says, gently squeezing Carl’s hips in his hands. “You wanna keep going?”

“Mmm,” Carl lets his forehead drop to Negan’s chest again. He’s still groggy and over warm, arousal curled in his belly. “Do we have time?”

“‘Course we do, my sweet pet. It’s early.” Negan leans his head up to press a kiss atop Carl’s. “We have time to do whatever you want.”

Carl frowns a little. He doesn’t want to do whatever he wants, that’s a hard choice in the morning. He doesn’t know how to communicate that though so he sort of just squints over at Dwight and grumbles, “It’s hot.” Which he realizes is in no way helpful but it’s what he’s got.

Negan laughs softly while Dwight smiles and reaches out to pet over Carl’s hair. “Yeah, hun? Negan can get pretty hot. He’s great in the winter. You wanna get off him? You can come here between us. Let us take care of you?”

A whine escapes Carl unbidden because all of that sounds lovely but he would also have to move which sounds terrible. It hits him that he’s being very lazy and needy this morning which is wrong but he’s just so… something, he doesn’t know.

“Comfortable,” Carl says, but holds out his arm so Dwight can pull him off of Negan anyway.

“Don’t worry, love. We’ll keep you comfortable.” Dwight squeezes Carl’s arm before scooting back a bit, allowing room for Negan to wrap his arms around Carl and turn, depositing him gently onto the bed between them.

Carl lets out a sound almost like a giggle, shocking himself before his attention is pulled to the men again.

“There we go,” Negan coos, adjusting Carl onto his back before he leans in to press kisses over his bandages while Dwight scoots in on Carl’s other side and runs a hand over his chest.

Carl arches slightly into the touches, eye slipping back closed. He’s always liked sleeping between the two, and this is just one step better. “‘S nice.”

“Good. You cooler now? Feel better?” Dwight asks, pressing his lips to Carl’s other cheek. He slips his hand under Carl’s shirt, fingers teasing over his belly, just as Negan’s slide under the waist band of his skirt, running over the soft skin at his hip.

He’s wearing only three items of clothing, less than he ever wore before getting on this ship, and yet he’s still sleep hot and arousal warm so they’re almost too much. He shakes his head in answer, trying not to let his face go red even if he knows there won’t be much difference with the sleep flush on his cheeks.

“No? You want your clothes off, sweetheart?” Dwight asks softly into Carl’s ear. He pushes his hand up a little higher, rucking Carl’s shirt up to his chest. Negan purrs at the bared skin, leaning down to press kisses along Carl’s bare side and belly.

Carl shivers and gasps, never having been kissed there before. He lifts his arms a little, allowing Dwight to abscond with his shirt and toss it aside. When it’s gone he has space to slide his fingers into Negan’s hair and scrub his nails nicely against the captain’s scalp.

Negan purrs in response, groaning deep in his chest. Without his shirt, all of Carl’s torso becomes free game for Negan’s mouth to kiss and lick at to his delight.

Dwight keeps a hand trailing over Carl’s chest in gentle circles, feeling Carl’s heart beat and his breath stutter. He presses his own kisses to Carl’s jaw and shoulder, lavishing him in attention.

Carl can’t help but hum happily at every new nice place the men touch. He gentles Negan away from any spot that’s ticklish or just bothers him for some reason. The other places, however, he leans in preening under the attention.

“So good for us,” Dwight murmurs into Carl’s skin. “So perfect.”

Negan hums in agreement, giving Carl’s hip a squeeze. “Perfect. Wonderful. Ours.” He emphasizes his words with kisses up to Carl’s chest. His eyes flick to Carl’s face for a second before he lathes his tongue over one of Carl’s nipples, unsure how he’ll react but going for it anyway.

Carl wrinkles his nose up, making the right side of his face feel weird. He’s heard tell that some people like that sort of thing and has even seen Dwight react positively to Negan playing with his, but to Carl it just feels kind of wet. The squeezing of Negan’s hand at the thin skin of his hip even feels better.

He uses the hands he has in Negan’s hair to pull the man up into a soft kiss instead.

No on that then, Negan thinks as he kisses back, and it seems like Dwight saw as well, his hand straying away from Carl’s other nipple. They like learning Carl’s little things, what he likes and dislikes. It’s fun for everyone.

Carl makes a pleased sound into the kiss, unhurried and enjoying for a moment before loosening his hold on Negan so the man can pull away.

Negan kisses Carl for a moment longer before releasing his lips and nuzzling under his jaw. “You feeling good, pet?” he asks, sliding his hand into Dwight’s hair and getting a kiss to his wrist for his efforts.

“Nice, yeah,” Carl answers, head tilting back a little for Negan. He’s not exactly into the whole marking up his neck thing but he likes it well enough when Negan touches him there.

Taking the bait, both Dwight and Negan move in on opposite sides of Carl’s neck, kissing and sucking gentle bruises into the sensitive skin. Negan tries to hold his teeth back as much as he can, only scraping them a few times.

Carl shoves at Negan a little when his teeth get too insistent against his neck. “No biting there.”

“‘M sorry. Sorry,” Negan mumbles, kissing the spots in apology. He lifts up and presses a quick kiss to Carl’s lips before sliding down. “I can bite down here, right?” He reaches to tug Carl’s skirt down just enough to reveal the slight curve of hip below his waist.

Carl shivers, eye dark and blown as he stares at Negan. “I suppose.”

Dwight breathes a laugh across Carl’s throat as he tucks his head in against Carl’s shoulder so he can look down and watch Negan too.

“You suppose, huh?” With a grin, Negan leans down and kisses a spot on Carl’s hip just above the skirt. His eyes flick up before he gently sinks his teeth in, groaning at the give of Carl’s flesh.

Carl can’t help but squeeze his legs together. He moans, the zing of Negan’s teeth digging into his hip shooting up his spine. He was right about that then, he had some concerns that he wouldn’t actually like those sensitive parts of him bitten up, but he definitely does.

“Oh, he likes that,” Dwight says, delighted.

Negan hums, licking at his bite mark. “Good. So fucking good.” He trails kisses over Carl’s lower belly until he’s leaning over to reach Carl’s other hip, biting in there without any preamble.

Carl’s straining embarrassingly in his smalls, digging his fingers into Negan’s hair, moaning sharply as those teeth dig into his hip bone. “You’re a menace!” He hisses when Negan pulls back.

Negan grins, licking his lips like a predator that’s caught his greatest prey. “Aye. Just marking what’s mine.”

“Ours,” Dwight says, pressing a kiss to Carl’s shoulder as he wraps his arm over his chest.

“Ours, love.” Negan tugs at the skirt again. “Can I take this off, pet? Can I get you bare for us?”

They’ve seen him naked before, they’ve even seen him in more delicate circumstances. He appreciates Negan asking though. “Yeah, yes. You can.”

Smiling, Negan tugs off Carl’s skirt and smalls at the same time, placing them to the side with his shirt. He lets out a low whistle at the sight of Carl naked in his bed with Dwight cuddled up to him, bite marks blooming on his hips, and cock twitching in the air.

“God, you two look so good. All for me.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, leaning in to kiss Dwight and then Carl. “Gonna get my mouth on you, baby, okay? Wanna taste you so bad.”

An embarrassing whine spills out of Carl. He doesn’t know why but he reaches up, spreading his hands across his face. “Negan!”

“That’s my name,” Negan says with a chuckle, kissing his way down Carl’s body.

Dwight reaches up to try and take Carl’s hands away. “Don’t hide from us, hun. C’mon.”

Negan stops down at Carl’s hips again, running his hand up and down the seam of Carl’s thighs.

Carl swallows, curling his fingers through Dwight’s. He parts his legs for Negan.

It had almost been easier when Dwight was the focus or he was half blissed out from having his socket fingered. Now he’s the focus of both men, and it’s nearly too much to bear.

“There’s a good lad. Come here look at me,” Dwight murmurs, squeezing Carl’s hand. He nudges Carl’s cheek with his nose, trying to get a kiss while Negan draws Carl’s leg up so he can situate himself between them. He peppers kisses and soft nips along Carl’s inner thigh where it’s warm and silky like butter, groaning in delight all the while.

Carl practically mewls into Dwight’s mouth at the feel of Negan’s teeth dragging across his thigh. He pushes up into the kiss, hoping to coax Dwight’s tongue into his mouth if only to muffle any other embarrassing sounds.

Dwight moans as he gives Carl what he wants, licking over his tongue with a fervor.

Negan gets distracted watching them for a moment, before he continues on, kissing and licking up to the joint of Carl’s leg and hip. He inhales deep, memorizing the musky scent of Carl. It makes his mouth water as he nuzzles in at the base of Carl’s cock, laving his tongue from base to tip.

Carl groans, trying to keep his hips still and himself calm by sucking in Dwight’s tongue, putting his focus into the kiss. It doesn’t work much, he’s far too aware of Negan between his legs and what he’s doing there.

It doesn’t help that Negan wastes no time in swallowing Carl down, swirling his tongue around Carl as he takes him to the root.

“Damn,” Carl hisses against Dwight’s mouth, squeezing his hand tighter. He wishes Negan would just press down on his hips so that he wouldn’t be so worried about squirming or bucking.

“Does it feel good, dear? He’s got such a good mouth, doesn’t he?” Dwight asks, looking down at Negan bobbing his head along Carl’s dick. “Look at him, Carl. He was made to suck cock, he was.”

“Mmhmm.” The boy nods his head, eye tightly clenched shut.

He looks - because how could he not when Dwight told him to - and it’s absolutely the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen and also a huge mistake. He can’t stop himself from moaning whorishly and thrusting upwards into the slick, hot place that is Negan’s mouth.

“There you go, Carl. Oh, so good. Go on. Take your pleasure.” Dwight spills praise into Carl’s ear, taking the hand he’s holding down to press it onto Negan’s head. Negan hums, hooking his hands under Carl’s hips to encourage him to thrust up.

You’re supposed to stay still, Carl fears that’s common courtesy. And yet, his fingers tangle in Negan’s hair and he thrusts up again anyway. “Christ!”

Negan moans around Carl’s dick, looking blissed out as Carl uses him. God, it feels so good. Having Carl hit the back of his throat again and again, his leaking precome slicking the way. Negan could honestly stay here for hours.

Carl whimpers, tugging at Negan’s hair even as he thrusts up. “Y- you have to stop, I’m gonna-” he breaks off in a shuddering moan.

“Keep going, dear,” Dwight encourages softly in Carl’s ear. “He wants it. Wants you to come down his throat. Wants to swallow it all down. It’s okay.”

Carl moans Negan’s name as he tilts over the edge, fingers spasming in the captain’s hair.

“Good. Good, Carl.” Dwight smiles, pressing kisses to Carl’s shoulder as he watches Negan milk everything he can out of Carl, drinking it down eagerly.

When he finally releases Carl, Negan licks his lips with a groan and nuzzles his face into Carl’s soft inner thigh. “Oh, pet. That was so wonderful. Thank you.”

Carl shivers, still not entirely comfortable with all the attention. He strokes his fingers through the captain’s hair gently, trying to get his voice back in working order. “Felt good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, pet,” Negan says, trailing kisses up Carl’s body. Dwight tugs him up closer to his side, leaning up to kiss Negan, licking inside his mouth to taste Carl on Negan’s tongue. Both men moan softly, Negan cradling Dwight’s head in his hand so he can kiss him even deeper.

Carl watches, pleased to see the two men together, he finds much more comfort in this. Warmth still burns inside of him but it’s easy to ignore, tilting his head against Dwight’s shoulder so that he can watch the two men kiss.

Negan shifts over as he kisses Dwight, going from between Carl’s legs to between Dwight’s. Dwight hums happily, fluidly wrapping his legs around Negan’s hips like he’s done it a million times. They fit together like matching puzzle pieces.

Still, together, their hands seek out Carl. Dwight reaching up to gently card his fingers through Carl’s long hair, and Negan taking hold of Carl’s hip. They like to know he’s there even though their attention is on each other.

Carl shifts, rolling on his side curved up against Dwight. Tucking his head down so that he can feather kisses across Dwight’s shoulder over his night shirt.

He’d like to strip them both down. Wants to watch how their bare bodies slide together. Wants to learn every place they fit.

Negan’s hands find their way under Dwight’s shirt, pushing it up as he runs his palms up Dwight’s torso. He cups under Dwight’s pecs, squeezing appreciatively, and wrenching a groan out of Dwight. “God, love your noises,” he says against Dwight’s lips. “So fucking good.”

“So pretty,” Carl murmurs, hooking his fingers under Dwight’s shirt to see if the man will let him tug it the rest of the way off. When he does, Carl discards it and slides down, rolling his tongue over the nipple closest to him.

Dwight keens, hand tightening in Carl’s hair as he shivers from the sensations.

“Beautiful,” Negan says in agreement to Carl, flicking his thumb over Dwight’s opposite nipple and making him jolt with a whine. “What should we do with him, pet? Hm?”

Carl shivers at the name and scrapes his teeth over the skin just above Dwight’s nipple. “Whatever he needs, love.”

“Oh, that’s an endless list,” Negan says with a snicker, rolling his hips down just to stave off some of the pressure building. Dwight huffs and scratches at Negan’s back, tilting his hips up in response.

“Undress me, loves. Please?”

“Aye. We can do that.” Negan leans back, unlacing Dwight’s breeches before pushing his legs up so he can grab at the waistband and drag them down with his smalls, the way he’d done to Carl.

Carl can’t help himself, it’s as if he’s magnetized, hand immediately drifting down to wrap loosely around Dwight’s cock and stroke him from root to tip. “So beautiful, dear heart.”

“Ah, mm…” Dwight bites his lip, pushing into the touch and tossing his head back. It feels so good having the two of them touch him. If not for the distinct differences in their hands, Dwight wouldn’t know where Carl ended and Negan began.

As it is, Negan runs his hand down his thighs to his knees, prying his legs open with little warning. Dwight squeaks but goes lax, especially as Negan gets his mouth on his hip where he’d bitten Carl earlier. The thought of them having matching hidden marks makes Dwight shudder in pleasure.

Carl can’t help but think Negan looks much better between Dwight’s thighs, where he can see the full picture. He looks his fill for a moment before turning his attention back on Dwight’s chest, sucking the nipple back between his lips as he works his hand over the blond’s prick torturously slow.

“Ah!” Dwight melts into the sensations of both mouths on him, touching him in such sensitive places. He can’t help but squirm a bit, his body wanting more but trying to get away at the same time.

“Mm… Want you, D,” Negan growls against Dwight’s thigh. He lifts up to look down at Dwight, taking in the sight of Carl touching him hungrily. “Want to be buried deep in you so bad. Can I?”

Dwight nods, though his eyes also flick to Carl, wondering how he’ll feel. Dwight hopes he won’t mind. “Yeah… Please.”

Carl can’t help but moaning softly at the idea. He wants to watch that probably more than anything he’s ever wanted before. His loose hand around Dwight’s cock tightens slightly and he runs the pad of his thumb over the dripping head.

“So wet, darling,” Carl murmurs against Dwight’s chest. “Need it that bad?”

Dwight nods quickly, his hips jumping. “Yeah. Please. Fuck, I want it. Wanna be filled.”

“Alright, hun. I’ll fill you nice. Just how you like.” Negan pats Dwight’s thigh, before he looks to Carl.

“Be a dear and reach under that pillow there. Not the one with your knife, the other. Something we need under there.”

Carl let’s go of Dwight with more than a little reservation, but reaches under the pillow anyway. He encounters a familiar vial there and pulls it out with a soft chuffing laugh. He’d snuck this coconut oil into one of Negan’s pockets after that day on the beach.

“I’m surprised this isn’t gone yet,” Carl says with a hum, rolling back toward the two and holding the vial out to Negan.

“You sleep with us most nights. You know we don’t get up to too much all that often,” Negan says with a grin, taking the vial.

“You ready for me, D?” Negan murmurs as he pops open the vial and pours a little over his fingers.

“I’ve been ready. Fill me up.” Dwight digs his heels into Negan’s sides impatiently.

“Easy. Easy. Gonna have you stuffed full in no time.” Negan rewards Dwight’s huffiness by getting his first finger into him a little too quickly, not bothering to be as gentle as he usually would.

“Never said the two of you couldn’t do anything with me here,” Carl says distractedly, sitting up a little so that he can watch Negan press a finger into Dwight.

There isn’t going to be any stopping the arousal that surges in him at the sight. He’s getting so hard so fast it might be starting to make him dizzy. His gaze flicks back up to Dwight’s face, trying to memorize how he reacts to the touches.

Dwight hisses at the quick penetration, even as his hips chase Negan’s fingers. “You bastard...”

“God, I love it when you whisper sweet nothings to me, love.” Negan punctuates his words with another finger, scissoring them apart as Dwight digs his heels into him again.

“Ah! Think that… might be why you keep me around. Someone has to keep you humble.” Dwight’s eyes flutter as Negan finds what he’s been looking for, his head dropping back, hand reaching out to grab at Carl. “Yes! Right there! Yes! Fuck. Oh… Fuck. Mm.”

Carl leans fully into the blond, scraping his teeth over his fading marks on Dwight’s collarbones. He laps at the man’s bared throat, nipping his scarred jawline. “Sound so good, darling.”

He slides his hand across Dwight’s torso, just feeling his flushed skin under his palm. Peering down the length of the man’s body as he slides his mouth back to Dwight’s collarbone, he revels in the view of Negan between those strong legs.

Dwight melts into a pool of moans and curses, shivering beneath Carl’s touches and Negan’s expert jabs against his prostate. His cock jumps every time, leaking all over his belly. They’ve done this enough times that Negan knows him inside and out, and it’s overwhelming and amazing all at once.

“Fuck, Negan… Fuck me already. I’m gonna… I’m gonna come too fast,” he whines, trying to squeeze his knees shut around Negan.

Carl could just listen to them and get off. That doesn’t mean the picture isn’t wonderful though, and the blooming red bruises on Dwight’s closest collarbone are proof of his appreciation.

“Alright, alright. Shh.” Negan slips his fingers out of Dwight, patting his thigh soothingly when he whines again. He looks to Carl and back to Dwight, licking his lips as a vision comes to his mind.

“Mm… Can I rearrange you, dear? C’mere a second.” He reaches out to tug on Carl’s hair, drawing him in for a kiss. “Want your bandage off. Can I do that?”

Carl shivers, going pliant in Negan’s hold. He’s trying to kiss Negan again when the words catch up to him. “Yes, yeah, okay.”

Negan smiles and gives Carl another kiss, holding him there for a moment until he can feel Dwight nudge him. Pulling away just enough, Negan unwraps Carl like he’s a precious gift, running his fingers through his hair unobstructed.

“There you are, lovely pet. Your pretty face on full display,” he coos softly, pressing a kiss to the edge of Carl’s empty socket.

Carl smiles softly at Negan, but he can’t help but keep his head angled to where Dwight can’t really see the wound. He nudges Negan’s leg with his toes, “C’mon, he’s waiting for you.”

“Aye, both of y’all are impatient,” Negan says with a laugh. He runs his hands down Carl’s body, pushing lightly against his chest. “Go on and lay back for me, yeah? Wanna paint a handsome picture for myself here.”

Carl rolls his eye, laying back against his usual pillow. It certainly puts his embarrassing second hard-on on display but he tries not to focus on that. He assumes Negan just wants to be able to look at them both side by side while he has his way with Dwight anyway.

Negan gazes down at Carl for a moment, taking him in and capturing the scene in his memory, before he returns his attention to Dwight. “And you… C’mere.”

Dwight gasps as Negan takes him by the hand and sits him up, leaning in to whisper directions into his ear. Dwight bites his lip, going red to his ears, but nods his understanding. “We can try it.”

He waits for Negan to scoot back before looking down at Carl. With a quick turn, Dwight straddles Carl, their hard cocks barely brushing before he gets his hands planted up by Carl’s head. He smiles down at the boy, leaning in to kiss him softly. “He wants to take me like this,” Dwight whispers down to Carl, his blond hair falling into his face. “Is that okay with you?”

It feels almost as if Carl can hear his blood rushing inside of him. The kiss leaves him dizzy in spite of how short and sweet it was, and his hands come up, fluttering by Dwight’s sides for a moment before settling on the man’s waist.

“Christ, I could think of nothing better,” he answers breathlessly, eye devouring the sight of Dwight on top of him like this.

Dwight grins, pressing their foreheads together gently. “Good.”

“You two ready?” Negan has disposed of his pants and is dripping oil onto his cock, slicking it down as he gets into position behind Dwight. He can feel the shudder run through Dwight as he rests a hand on his lower back.

“Been ready,” Dwight huffs, looking back over his shoulder to give Negan a nod.

“Keep up the attitude, my love. See where it gets you.”

“Hopefully it gets me f-Fuck!” Dwight’s eyes squeeze close as Negan pushes half way in in one go, his hands settling on Dwight’s hips.

Carl shivers, attention trained on the man atop him. This whole thing already has his prick leaking against his stomach. He strokes his hands up Dwight’s sides gently, almost as if trying to help soothe him.

“Gorgeous,” he breathes.

Dwight pants and moans softly as Negan pulls out just to press back in, going deeper each time. “Fuck, gonna fill you up just how you like it. Show Carl how you can take all of my cock like a good wench.”

The words just make Dwight moan even more as he looks down at Carl gazing so intently up at him. God, being between the two is like Heaven on Earth, and Dwight wishes this never had to end.

Carl can feel the shift of the two bodies over him and it just serves to make him even more heated. He leans up a little, pressing his mouth against Dwight’s collarbone that he couldn’t reach before.

“Doing so well,” Carl hums between nips. “Look so pretty between us like this, dear heart.”

Dwight groans, dropping his head to press his face against Carl’s soft hair. He inhales his scent, remembering how it smelt from the bathhouse and the soaps at The Kingdom. Oh, he can’t wait to reach a nice port town again and get his lovers into a bath and a big bed. Mm.

He’s jolted from his fantasies as Negan sinks fully into him, balls deep with a bruising grip on his hips. He whines at the feeling of fullness within him, and even more at Negan’s stillness. “M-move, ya bastard. Please. Fuck me.”

“Shh. Goddamn. Trying not to blow my load right now. You’re so damn tight and warm around me. Taking me so good. I gotta calm down a second here. Fuck.”

Carl’s hands slide down, fingers finding the spaces between Negan’s on Dwight’s hips. He would just watch them forever if he could, memorize every second, every sound.

He angles his head a bit, shifting up to lean the side of his face against Dwight’s. “Listen to him, dear heart, you’re already driving him half mad.” If he doesn’t say anything he’ll fall silent, he knows. He’ll get sucked into everything happening and turn into a dazed, aroused mess.

Dwight whimpers and nods against Carl, his arms starting to shake. “I know. I know. It’s just- Mm… It’s so much. He’s so big, it’s overwhelming when he… Doesn’t move.”

Negan hums, wiggling his fingers against Carl’s in acknowledgement before he starts to pull back again.

“God, is it good though,” Dwight breathes, moaning when Negan thrusts back in.

“I bet,” Carl whispers, squeezing his thighs together a little as if it will help the ache. The breathlessness that fills Carl at the feel and sight of Negan thrusting back into the man has him speaking almost out of turn. “Don’t you feel so nice and full, darling?”

“Mhm.” Dwight nods again, eyes squeezed shut as he lets his head hang down. Every rock of Negan’s hips pulls a wanton noise out of Dwight, Negan groaning deep and spewing filth above him.

“Fuck, yeah, Dwight. Feel so fucking good. You were made for this. Made for my cock.”

Dwight’s shaking arms finally give out and he falls to his elbows, tucking his head in beside Carl’s. It changes the angle of Negan’s cock and has him brushing his prostate with every thrust, making Dwight practically sob in pleasure into Carl’s ear.

A gasping whine makes its way out of Carl at the change of position. He squirms, practically trembling at the sounds being fed right into his ear. It doesn’t help his case that with Dwight bent down like this he can see more of Negan, can watch entranced as the captain thrusts into his first mate.

Carl’s fingers tighten at Dwight’s hips, denting the skin between Negan’s own grip. His prick is practically drooling against his stomach but he doesn’t want to touch yet, doesn’t want to take his attention away from these men.

“Hi, my love,” Negan says with a grin, making eye contact with Carl without missing a beat of his thrusts into Dwight. He leans forward, sliding a hand down Dwight’s back and scratching it back up to pull a long keen out of him. “I hope you’re enjoying as much as we are.”

His moan should be answer enough but Carl fights valiantly to swallow down his mental fog and respond. “I am, god, of course I am.”

“Good. Maybe one day we’ll get you in Dwight’s position, ay?” Negan’s hungry gleam is clouded with lust, thinking about fucking Carl while he’s balls deep in Dwight. He slides his hands to Dwight’s ass, squeezing the soft flesh there and watching the view of his cock going in and out of Dwight’s hole. God, that sight alone could make him come. “Or maybe he can fuck you while I fuck him? Or any other way, I don’t care. Fuck.”

“Filthy,” Carl mumbles, as if the idea doesn’t make his cock jump against his stomach. He knows Negan can probably see it on his face though, the want, the arousal.

He can’t help but withdrawing one of his hands from around Dwight’s hip to press it against his prick, trapping the aching flesh against his slick stomach.

“The filthiest,” Negan says with a cackle and a hard thrust. Dwight yelps beneath him, falling from his elbows and landing chest to chest with Carl.

“Fuck, Negan. Ah…” Each thrust pushes Dwight against Carl, their bare skin sticky with sweat.

Carl practically mewls at the closeness, other hand slipping down to wrap loosely around Dwight’s cock so that each of Negan’s thrusts will push it into his hand. He keeps his own prick pressed between his hand and his stomach, shifting his hips a little to get the barest friction, much more focused on Dwight and Negan.

“Ah! Carl, mm…” Dwight buries his hands into Carl’s hair, holding onto him like a lifeline as he pants hot breath and moans across Carl’s skin. “Fuck, ‘m close. So close. ‘M gonna…”

“Come on, Dwight. Come for me. Come for Carl. Come all over Carl. Paint him white while I do the same to your hole. Get you nice and filled up just the way you like. Walk around filled with my cum all day, eh? Fucking hell.”

Carl moans far too loudly for his liking at the thought. While he isn’t thrilled about having it on his face, the idea of Dwight spending all over him and the idea of one or both of them all filled up and acting like normal… well it brings him right to the edge himself.

He leans greedily into Dwight’s touch, tightening his hand a bit on the man. “Please, please.”

That’s all it takes to tip Dwight over, coming with a sob all over Carl’s stomach. Negan groans above him, riding out Dwight’s orgasm as he clenches and shudders around him before spilling himself the deepest he can inside. “Fuck…”

Carl clamps his teeth down on his lip, holding in a truly embarrassing sound as he strokes himself to finish quickly, his own spend joining the mess on his stomach that his precum and Dwight’s spend made.

Panting softly, Dwight goes boneless against Carl. Negan’s still holding his hips up, slowly grinding into him to chase his orgasm, otherwise Dwight would have just crushed Carl.

Turning his face, Dwight presses a kiss to Carl’s neck. “Fuck, that was good.”

“Mmhmm,” Carl agrees, still half out of it, he strokes his cleaner hand along Dwight’s side, wanting to touch but not wanting to make everything that much harder to clean up. “You two did beautifully.”

“As did you, pet,” Negan mumbles, kissing a line down Dwight’s back until he’s bent over him enough to reach for Carl and stroke his fingers across his cheek. Dwight hums softly, closing his eyes and enjoying being sandwiched between the two.

Carl can’t help but think he didn’t do anything at all. He still leans into Negan’s touch though, rubbing a circle against Dwight’s hip. He could spend the rest of the day in bed with these men, but he knows they’ll be docking soon.

As gentle as he can, Negan pulls his flagging cock from Dwight and helps him tilt over to lay on his side off of Carl. Dwight sighs and curls in close, keeping his hands higher than Carl’s stomach.

“God, look at the mess you two made,” Negan says with a hunger in his eyes despite the physical exhaustion. He takes hold of Carl’s hand and brings it to his mouth, waiting for a moment to see if Carl will pull back. When he doesn’t, Negan licks away any and all of the spend he can find.

Carl shivers, eyes following the motion greedily. “Well, in our defense, we were told to,” he comments, too distracted by Negan’s actions to think of how the smarmy captain will react to him admitting he’s followed an order even if it was this kind of order.

“And you did it perfectly,” Negan says with a smirk, examining Carl’s other hand with his mouth before leaning in to lap it up off Carl’s belly.

“Someone’s not going to be hungry for breakfast,” Dwight murmurs sleepily from where he’s tucked into Carl, not even looking at Negan but knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Carl can’t help but laugh at the two men, reaching down to push his thumb against the side of Negan’s mouth. “Sometimes I can’t believe you two are real.”

Negan purrs and kisses Carl’s thumb. “Believe it, pet.” He smiles, tracing his fingers around the mark he’s left on Carl’s hip. “You’re covered in proof anyhow.”

Carl pulls his hand away quickly, flushed. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Not trying to be.”

Carl looks towards their clothes and things on the floor, taking a breath. “We have to get up soon, especially if we want to actually eat before we strike land.”

“Few more minutes,” Dwight mumbles, looking like he’s already back asleep again. Negan smiles and tucks some of his hair behind his ear.

“A few more minutes of basking in the afterglow, and then we can leave Dwighty boy here to sleep some more while we get dressed and get food. Sound good?”

Carl lets his hands rest on his stomach, already comfortable. “I might raid both of your clothes. It’s not like I came on the ship with many, and my vest is absolutely ruined.”

“Fine by me. I’ve got plenty to spare,” Negan says, crawling up to curl in on Carl’s other side. “If we make an actual port soon, we may be able to get things washed as well. Just depends.”

“There’s no getting the blood out of those,” Carl sighs, scooting a little more into Dwight so Negan won’t fall off the bed. “I’ll wash them and then use them for bandages or something.”

He taps his fingers along his stomach. “I suppose I should bother to get some more clothes the next time I have the chance.”

“Yes, I’d say so. With how much into fabric and jewelry you are, I’m surprised you haven’t already acquired a collection,” Negan muses, twirling a bit of Carl’s hair around his fingers.

“Clothes are harder to take, and I’m picky,” Carl informs idly. “Besides, it wasn’t really my focus when I was in The Kingdom.”

“Right, right.” Negan hums and leans in to press gentle kisses to Carl’s cheek and then his shoulder. “Well, next stop with clothes available we’ll make sure you get some, but until then, Dwight and I will love seeing you in ours.”

Carl hums, tilting his head a little to enjoy the scrape of Negan’s facial hair across his shoulder. “You’re going to put me back to sleep.”

“Should I not?” Negan smiles, skimming his hand down Carl’s chest just to feel his skin. He loves having his lovers bare in his bed. “It’s so tempting.”

Carl tries to hold in a yawn, failing spectacularly. “We have things to do.”

“Nothing a little sleeping in will bother,” Negan says, curling closer and kissing the healing cut down Carl’s face. “You used a lot of energy this morning, my love. Take a rest.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Carl huffs, though his breath catches when Negan runs his lips against the cut on his face. He doesn’t have the energy for that sort of thing, but damn if he hasn’t thought about it every day since it happened.

“You came twice,” Negan says with a soft laugh. “I don’t know how you’re even talking to me right now. The joys of youth I suppose.” He smiles against Carl, letting his eyes close as he tries to pull Carl under with him.

He knows these men are changing him, for better or worse they are. Before he got on this ship he never would have even imagined going back to sleep. He never would have imagined doing what he does next either.

“You can take the blame with the crew,” he mumbles at the captain, turning on his side and pressing back against the man as he throws an arm out to tug Dwight closer.

Negan just snickers and slots himself closer behind Carl, his own arm reaching out to hold onto both men in his bed.

“You laugh now, but you two have a meeting with Peter and Arat sometime this morning,” Carl mumbles, voice already trailing off. It doesn’t take long after that for him to drift into a light doze.

Negan just smiles, pressing a kiss to the back of Carl’s head and squeezing him closer.

Chapter 28

Summary:

Land ho!

Notes:

R: Wow the plot is back!! XD

 

“Land ho!”

Negan lets out the breath he was holding, gripping onto the rail as they approach the island in the near distance. “I’ll admit, for a second I was afraid this wasn’t going to be real,” he says to Carl next to him. “But I hoped so hard that it was, and I’m glad to see this trip wasn’t in vain.” He yawns softly, rubbing at his face, still a bit overtired from their morning activities despite the extra sleep they got.

Carl glances up from where he’s using some of his bracelets to hold the sleeves of his stolen shirt in place. It’s Brazil, he always knew it was going to be there even if they were going to an unmarked island inside a cove that Arat has been raving about since she spotted it through the scope.

“The way you talk, I’d think you always have some sort of plan when you leave land,” he hums. “Sounds awfully boring.”

Negan snorts and slides a hand into Carl’s hair near the nape of his neck. “Of course I have some sort of plan. What kind of captain would lead his crew into open ocean with no plan?”

Carl gives a teasing look. “A spontaneous one?” He waves the conversation away physically. “What I mean is, are you always looking for something?”

“Ah… Well, usually I suppose,” Negan says, turning to lean back against the rail. “Not always treasure or an adventure like this one we’re on now. Sometimes we’re just looking for a port. Sometimes a fight. Things like that. But I rarely just sail out onto sea with no direction. That’s how you get lost.”

Carl settles his elbows on the railing, watching their approach. “Guess I don’t have to dream about getting lost anymore anyhow.”

“Do y’ wanna get lost?” Negan asks, leaning closer to Carl with a raise of his brow. “Or did you just wanna get away?”

“If you’re lost,” Carl reasons, “no one can blame you for not finding your way back.”

“Mm…” Negan nods slowly, looking about the deck for a moment, watching the crew getting ready for disembarkation. He smiles and bumps Carl’s elbow with his. “Don’t think they’ll blame you for getting kidnapped by pirates either.”

Carl snorts, looking over his shoulder at the crew. “After they get the rumor mill started? I bet it will take little time before my wanted poster is right next to yours. I killed a decorated admiral.”

“Eh, from what I heard, he deserved it.” Negan laughs softly, looking over at Carl. “You were probably the only one who could have done it too. Just pray they do your pretty face justice when they draw up the posters.”

“Dear god, can you imagine them asking my father to copy from one of our family portraits?” Carl can’t help but laugh a bit madly. “Oh, the poor soul who would come for me thinking I’m like that.”

Negan laughs loudly and turns to wrap an arm around Carl’s shoulders, squeezing him in tight. “God, I’d love to see it. Some sap who thinks he can take on a demure little lawman’s son getting his ass wholly handed to him.”

“Well technically you already have,” Carl points out, leaning into the man. “But then again, Shane always said I had a darkness about me, so perhaps he didn’t underestimate me much at all.”

Negan hums, the vibrations running through his chest. “I like your darkness,” he says, tilting his head down to press a kiss to Carl’s temple. “Your murderous streak.” He kisses Carl’s cheek below his empty eye. “Find it quite attractive, really.”

Carl likes to think he’s getting used to Negan showing all this affection around others but it still makes him itchy and hedgy. He nudges his shoulder against Negan. “You’re a sap. I like your darkness too, you maniac.”

Negan giggles and squeezes Carl tighter before letting him go with another kiss. “Guess that’s why we work so well together, ay? Accepting and liking people for their good qualities and light is easy and boring, but peeling back the layers to see what they’re really like beneath it all and still sticking around… That’s the real stuff.”

A scoff escapes him, but he knows that Negan can see on his face that he doesn’t disagree. He nods towards the crew. “Go be captain, you romantic.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Negan leans in to give Carl one more kiss before he walks away with a grin on his face.

Carl shakes his arms out and stretches his back, moving over to where Laura and Carson seem to be prepping the crew’s guns. “Everything coming along?”

Laura nods, completely focused on her task and Carson picks up one of the flintlocks, holding it out to Carl. “This is one of the extras, I think we’d all feel better if you had a backup to your blades, boy-o.”

Carl raises no arguments. He takes the gun, sliding it into his waistband behind his belt. “I appreciate that.”

“A little closer and then we’ll lower the anchor,” Negan’s voice rings out from where he’s calling orders and getting people organized. “Get in positions, men! We’ll take two of the jolly boats. Prepare to lower them.”

“Are you two on ground crew?” Carl asks, watching Carson shoulder the medical bag Carl had put together a few nights ago.

“Aye,” Laura says stowing several guns in her own waistband, “Arat, too. Couple more of the boys.”

Dwight shows up as if on cue to help shuffle the ground crew to the little boats, watching and waiting for Negan to give the order to release the anchor. “Everyone ready? We don’t know what to expect here, so keep your eyes open,” he says, patting his own weapons to make sure they’re there.

“Keep your peepers peeled,” Carl and Carson both mumble, gripping the side of the boat. It gets them a strange look from Laura that they hardly notice, too focused on the captain.

Negan gives the order to drop the anchor a moment later, stopping the ship in her tracks once it hits the ocean floor below. He makes his way down to the jolly boats and helps get them lowered and get people boarded. Oars are passed about and then it’s a short trip to the shore.

Laura and Carl store one of the boats close enough to the trees that there is no risk of it floating away, doing a last check to make sure no one dropped anything before meeting up with Arat who is scribbling furiously in her mapping journal next to Negan.

“I can see her attention is taken,” Carl observes, stopping between his two men as Laura continues to Arat’s side. He thinks he hears the blonde mumble something about a tether on her way.

“How’re your land legs, pet?” Negan asks, reaching out to touching Carl’s shoulder though he’s looking out over landscape of the island, taking in the trees and the beach with a critical eye.

“Not as bad as I thought they’d be, but we’re still in sand,” Carl notes. “Just try not to laugh too hard when I eat grass while we’re stomping through the forest.”

“Oh, I’m gonna laugh so fucking hard,” Negan says, giving Carl a squeeze before walking a bit away to address the crew wandering around on the beach.

“Alright, everyone! We’ve reached the destination from our map, but the end goal is still a mystery. Let’s have a good look around, don’t spread out too far, and whistle if you find anything that looks significant.” He turns to Arat. “Do you have any suggestions on where to start, or is it all up in the air?”

Arat pats the map canister slung around her shoulder absently. “Ain’t much we c’n do on specific direction ‘til the sun starts goin’ down.”

Carl crosses his arms, glancing around. “I suppose we could find area where the local wildlife has made the foliage less dense. Hasten our travel time?”

“Cook made us bring some small barrels in case we came across clean water,” Carson reminds, hesitantly looking over Arat’s shoulder at the map she’s been sketching.

“Both good things,” Negan says, nodding along. “Let’s do Carl’s suggestion, and while we’re heading through keep an eye out for a water source. If there is any wildlife about, there’s gotta be fresh water. Also, keep an eye out for wildlife.”

Carl privately thinks that the only reason Negan became a captain is so he can tell other people what to do. “Would you like to take lead? Or should someone else?” He glances around at their small group. Not all of them have lanterns on their belts like he does, but it isn’t dark yet. “I suppose if I go ahead of you, you’ll have a better view when I fall on my face.”

Negan snorts and waves them forward. “Come along. I’ll lead the way in.”

Dwight pats Carl on the back as they begin the trek up the beach and into the trees. “You can just fall onto him and take him down with you,” he says with a wink.

“How do you know that wasn’t the plan?” Carl asks playfully from the corner of his mouth. He follows easily, almost laughing when he really does see Laura loosely tethering one of her belt-loops to Arat’s so the sea artist won’t go wandering off.

The rest follow easily as they look for areas of flattened foliage and downed trees to start their trek. Spreading out slightly, they get to work hiking through the rich forest the island holds, gazing about as they go.

It doesn’t take long for the sounds of the ocean to fade a bit and the sounds of the forest to take over. Carl is careful, but ends up having to reach out to touch a tree or Carson’s shoulder several times to navigate any tricky roots or uneven ground.

He perks when he starts to hear water again. “Hey, Arat, this little island should connect to the rest of the cove during low tide right?”

The dark skinned woman looks up from her journal. “Yeah, according t’ most maps. Why?”

“Just wondering if you think the great river bisects it or if the area has its own spring.”

Arat tilts her head a little before looking back down at her working sketch. “Huh. Logically it would be its own stream, but I’ve never known myths an’ legends t’ be logical.”

“Can say that again,” Negan comments, swiping a low branch away from his face.

“Let’s head towards that sound,” Dwight says, pointing in the direction of the water. He becomes the leader, Negan behind him, and it’s only another few minutes before the sight of a small river appears.

And something else.

“Woah.”

“Are we supposed to be woahing the pretty river or the shriveled up corpse,” Carl asks Carson quietly.

“Considering the body is all strung up… I’d say that,” the older man comments, half frowning at Carl before he squints at the body.

“It’s a good stream though,” Carl says, bypassing some of the others to gaze at the water. “I think it stems from higher ground, maybe we could take baths after drinking water collection.”

“Master Carlton please focus,” Carson sighs, tugging the boy back.

“He’s right, it is a good stream,” Negan says, circling the corpse with a wary eye. “And this poor soul is far enough away that I don’t think he’s poisoned it.”

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Dwight says, keeping his distance from the dead man with a pinched expression. “We’re either on the right path, or the very wrong one.”

Humming, Negan casts a suspicious look around, eyeing the trees up above. “Let’s hope for the right one and keep moving. Collect some water, but keep light on your toes.”

Arat has closed her journal for the first time since stepping foot on the island. She circles the hanging corpse frowning, Laura in toe due to their two foot tether.

“I think this’s where yer star map came from, Cap,” the sea artist says, for the first time her face coloring with a little disgust as she looks up at the bare back of the body.

Laura looks between the other woman and the body in shock before she takes a step back making a gagging noise. “Oh, that’s disgusting!”

“I knew it didn’t feel like animal leather,” Dwight murmurs with his own gag, going a bit green in the cheeks.

Negan steps back over and examines the skinned back of the corpse, holding his hand out to Arat. “Let me see it.” Taking the map as Arat gingerly holds it out to him, Negan holds it up to the corpse like he’s putting together a puzzle.

It fits perfectly.

A manic smile spreads over his face as he hands Arat the map back. “Right track! We’re on the right track!”

Arat is quick about rolling up the map and putting it back in the canister, wiping her hands off on her pants like she hadn’t been handling the thing for weeks. Carl holds in a laugh where he’s been filling up his waterskin and stands, initially shaky.

“Do you suppose we should keep heading inland, or take a break until the stars are out enough to guide us?” he asks, holding the water out for the captain to drink some. He doesn’t see why he should be greedy over it when he has the means to refill it.

Placing a steadying hand to Carl’s back, Negan takes the offered water and drinks his fill before handing it back. “Ah… good stuff.” He smacks his lips as he looks around, studying the sun and the stream. “Perhaps we wait? Our map is drawn of the stars. Seems logical that we should follow them, yeah?”

“This far down we might be able to see the stars before the sun sets fully,” Carl notes, holding the half-full waterskin out to Dwight.

“We can go ahead and collect the water so it’s ready when we come back through,” Carson comments, pointing to the small barrels John and Enzo had been carrying.

Carl nods. “If we don’t run into any trouble after we’re done, I’d like to collect some stuff before we raise anchor.”

“Stuff for your tonics and such?” Dwight asks, finishing off the water and bending to refill it before handing it back to Carl.

Carl secures his refilled waterskin to his belt and offers up a crooked grin. “That, and I’m trying to convince Cook that coconut is a lasting kitchen resource.”

Negan leans in and bounces his eyebrows. “As long as you also make some more coconut oil, I ain’t complaining,” he says, batting a swat from Dwight with a chuckle.

Carl blinks at him innocently. “What makes you think I don’t already have more?”

“Well, can’t have too much, now can you?” Negan matches Carl’s look with a grin, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple.

“Both of you are intolerable,” Dwight mumbles, looking away to watch John and Enzo try to fill the water barrels without falling into the stream, cheeks pink from more than the walk in the sun.

“I am guiltless,” Carl tuts producing his high society voice that his mother drilled into him for only a moment. “Innocent I say.

“Besides,” he says, back to normal as he watches Arat begin walking up stream with her journal once again in hand, “it’s good for you and you don’t have to buy it the way we do olive oil.”

“See. Exactly. Economical this one is,” Negan says, patting Carl on the head like he’s a good dog.

“Uh huh.” Dwight shakes his head, but can’t hide his smile away. “Whatever you say.” He sighs and glances towards the strung up body again. “Come on. Let’s look around… Over there.”

By the time Arat and Laura make their way back down stream to the clearing with the other pirates, the sun is starting to set, and Carl is gazing up at the sky. They could probably make their way without the map, but double checking is what keeps you from having to backtrack.

“Can I have the map for a moment?” he asks Arat once she’s close enough.

“You mean the tattoo?” The woman makes a disgusted face but pulls the canister down from her shoulder, unscrewing it and holding the open end out to Carl.

“Oh, honestly, it’s just skin,” Carl huffs, rolling his eye as he retrieves the leathery star chart. He ignores the weird look she’s giving him as he holds the map up parallel to the sky. It covers much more than what they can see being so close to their destination but it helps nonetheless.

“What’s our heading, Master Carlton?” Negan says in an imitation of Carson’s voice, sidling up along side Carl. He bends down to try and see the map and the sky the way Carl sees it, squinting between the two.

“Don’t be a prick,” Carl huffs, turning his body a little more to the left. He squints at the still dim stars in the sky and then looks back at the map.

“Looks like we’re following down stream,” Carl says distractedly looking at the water and wondering how far it goes. “We might have to cross over at some point but as far as I can tell we need to go straight on.”

He holds the map back out for Arat who allows him to slip it into the canister. She doesn’t argue with him so she must agree.

“Alright.” Negan stands to his full height and lets out a sharp whistle to gather attention, specifically of John and Enzo who are dozing by the stream. “Let’s head on down stream and see what we see while we’ve still got a bit of light.”

“At least a few of us have lanterns,” Carl says, glancing at Arat and John to make sure they haven’t somehow lost theirs as he falls into step with Carson once more.

The forest is denser this time and he ends up having to reach out and touch several more trees to keep his balance as they move alongside the water. He sincerely hopes nothing will be pursuing them through this foliage.

Negan grunts as he pushes through a thick barrier of foliage, cutting away most of it with his sword. Dwight falls into step next to him, his own sword out to help.

“Why do you think they killed the man with the map tattoo?” he asks, ducking under a low branch.

“Why else? Greed,” Negan says. “Bet you anything he thought he was invaluable because he had the map on him. Can’t kill the one who knows the way, right?”

“Unless you can take it away from him.”

“Exactly.”

“The real question is,” Carl mumbles to Carson as the man holds a leafy vine out of their way, “who killed him? And where are they now?”

Carson nods. “And how the tattoo got into your friend, the king’s, hands.”

With one more slash of his blade, Negan reveals a small clearing along the water’s edge. He hums, stepping with caution from where the forest soil turns into the pebbly sand.

“Interesting,” he says, looking over the water, and wondering if it’s a natural clearing or manmade.

Carl practically trips into the man’s back, grunting in annoyance at himself. He clutches the back of Negan’s jacket and pushes himself back right, trying to look around the captain. “Whats interesting?”

Negan grunts softly, and points ahead of him. “Just that the forest kind of ends here,” he says, walking forward carefully, and holding an arm behind him to help keep Carl stable. “The river keeps going though.”

“Huh,” Carl voices, leaning around Negan a little to look around. “I’m no sea artist but I’m sure I was looking at that map right.”

“Capitano, look here!” Enzo waves his arm in the air to gather attention before gesturing to the stream. He’s a little further down where it seems like the water takes a bend, but upon closer inspection there’s a small outcropping of rocks spanning the width of the river. “We can cross here.”

“Could be a sign,” Carson says optimistically as Carl straightens up and steps back to his side again.

“Could lead us to our certain deaths,” Laura mumbles.

“It’s just a natural dam,” Carl snorts as they all follow behind Negan. “But I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Well, it seems as good a sign as any. Shall we cross? Do the stars lead that way?” Negan asks, craning his head back to look up at the sky, holding onto his hat as he does so.

Reluctantly, Arat checks the map, angling herself with it as she looks up at the sky. She's quick about stowing it when she’s done. “Yeah, tha’s the way.”

Carl honestly is more sure about his footing on the rock bridge than in the forest, but he sticks near Dwight and Carson anyway as they cross. “We’ll have to use our lanterns soon.”

“Aye,” Dwight says with a nod, keeping a close eye on Carl.

The other side of the river is much the same as the one they were just on, but there is a patch of foliage down near the tree edge that they choose to venture into.

“Just out of curiosity,” Carl asks his two pirates as they walk, “do you think this will be our final destination or just another piece of the puzzle?”

“These things tend to go in steps,” Dwight says, waving away a bug buzzing in his face. “But sometimes we are lucky and the first stop is the last.”

“I think this will be one of many,” Negan says. “I feel like if the was the end, the map would not have survived for us to find it. Surely once the treasure is found, the map would be useless and then destroyed or left at the final place. Why circulate an useless map?”

“Master Dwight said something similar before, but what if we find what we’re looking for and decide not to take it?” The boy finds himself questioning. “Does the map just go back in circulation?”

“Suppose that’s for us to decide once we find it,” Negan says with a grin back at Carl. “Depending on what it is, perhaps we let some other poor soul go on a goose chase to find it, or perhaps we’ll be kind and destroy it to stop others from following in our steps.”

“Hm,” Carl voices thoughtfully, reaching down to start fiddling with the lantern at his hip. Once lit, he adjusts the flame, careful to keep it low enough he won’t burn his side but still cast a glow around him. “Either way, I suppose we’ll have a good story for King Ezekiel.”

“I hope so!”

The warm light of the lanterns make trudging through the forest in the dark a little bit easier, but not by much. Everyone has stumbled over an errant root or has gotten a branch to the face. Dwight’s about to question if they’re on the right trail when they finally step onto a solid surface.

Looking down, the soil beneath their feet has become stone, inlaid into the ground. Negan goes giddy with excitement, leading the group along the walkway.

The stone walkway is much easier to walk on so following the new speed behind the captain is much easier for Carl even in the growing darkness. Only he nearly runs right into the man again when he stops abruptly.

Carl pulls his lantern off his belt, raising the flame slightly to cast more light in the area. The structure in front of them is pretty big, a man made rock formation with a huge slanted boulder in the middle, parts of the huge rock disk in the ground overgrown with moss.

“Huh,” Carl says, stepping up next to Negan. “Is… is this a sundial?”

“Probably would be if the sun was out. Right now it’s a moon dial,” Negan says with a laugh and a nudge of his elbow into Carl’s side. “C’mon. Let’s look around.”

“Whoever told you you’re funny deserves to be pushed off a bridge,” Carl huffs, clicking his tongue as he splits off to inspect one of the overgrown areas.

Passing off his lantern to Carson, he kneels, digging his fingers into the moss and beginning to pull it away from the stone. He figures they need to clean all the moss off so they can see what the illustrations are. They’ve got time before the sun comes up to provide an answer after all.

John and Enzo copy him, using the lantern John has to work on clearing the other side of the stone. The moss is soft and peels off in sections like sheets, but the area is quite large.

“I love moss,” Enzo says, feeling the springy plant between his fingers. John just gives him a look and shakes his head.

“What does this look like to you?” Carl asks when he dusts the left over dirt clumps away from the stone. “An island?”

Carson grimaces. “I’m no map expert, boy-o.”

“We’ve got more of ‘em stars in lines o’r ‘er,” John says, kicking away the last of the dirt on his section of the stone.

“I believe I have a cart of some kind?” Dwight says, tilting his head as he looks down at the carving at his feet a few yards away. “A chariot, perhaps. Like the myth.”

“How do we know which one is what we’re looking for?” Carson questions.

“The shadow the dial casts, likely,” Carl hums, getting to his feet and looking at the large angled boulder. “The real question is, what time of day casts the correct shadow?”

Negan hums as he circles the stone, searching for a clue. “Is there anything in the myth that can help us? We know Phaethon traveled to the east to start his disastrous chariot ride, and that he’s struck down into the Eridanus river at some point, but I don’t remember reading a specific time that he’s struck.”

“I don’t remember any specific timeline for Prometheus bringing man fire either,” Carl sighs, crossing his arms as he casts his gaze around at the symbols he can see thoughtfully.

“Fire…” Dwight mumbles softly, suddenly looking off to the side of the stone circle. He kicks back a bit more moss before looking up, squinting at one of the trees in the moonlight. With a hum he scurries over to the other side and examines those trees as well. His eyes suddenly alight, and he turns towards John with a grabbing hand.

“Give me your lantern.”

“Wha’?”

“I have an idea. Let me see it.”

John barely has the lantern off his belt before it’s in Dwight’s hands. He steps back to look into the tree line again before hefting the lantern up into his hand like he’s about to throw it.

“D, what are you…?”

Carl watches, attention immediately taken by the man’s fast movements. He jumps, brows sliding up as the first mate does actually throw the lantern. It’s almost out of character for the man, and yet true to form. He's been more helpful than anyone else thus far.

The lantern shatters atop a pillar hidden amongst the trees, the top of which is a large bowl that instantly alights from the fuel and fire of the lantern.

Dwight grins as he turns back around and points towards the dial. “Did that do anything?” he asks, completely ignoring the look of shock on everyone’s faces.

“The things I would do for that man,” Carl mumbles to Negan, hand coming out to grab the captain’s wrist, half his attention on the way the fire seems to light up so much of the sundial.

“Lord, don’t I know it,” Negan murmurs back.

It’s casting a shadow now, black stretching across the white stone towards one of the carvings. Carl rushes over, dragging the captain with him until they stop right where the dial’s shadow ends. “My heart, I believe you solved it!”

“Oh, good!” Dwight says coming over to where Carl and Negan are. “I just thought it odd that only one of these pillars had a little pit on top, and then you mentioned the fire myth, so… Yeah.”

“You did a very good job, my love.” Negan reaches out to tap under Dwight’s chin just as the rest of the crew joins them. “You’ll get a reward for sure.”

“Anything he wants,” Carl promises, tugging Arat - and in turn Laura - over to the carving. “Copy this down. Do you recognize it?”

“Unfortunately,” Arat sighs, flipping to a new page in her journal and beginning to copy down the land masses in the carving. “We don’ have any maps on board of Greece. Also I’m sure half of these small islands don’ exist anymore, but this one,” she reaches out and pokes the only one with what looks like a gold sheen on it, “definitely doesn’t exist.”

“So, obviously, that’s where we need to go,” Negan says with a grin, shaking in Carl’s hold with excitement. “Greece! Should have probably figured that with the myths being from that area. We’ll have to make port somewhere and pick up some new maps, aye?”

“Sounds like it,” Carl says, squeezing the man’s wrist. He glances up with a joking sort of grin. “Maybe I can find some pants that fit and aren’t covered in blood.”

“Aye, though I do love seeing you covered in blood, pet,” Negan purrs down at him.

“It’s when I look my best,” Carl says agreeably, grin not dropping.

“Greece, eh? Ay, Enzo, maybe we can make a stop in yer country so I can see yer sister!” John says with a laugh, poking at Enzo’s ribs.

“I will gut you before you have chance.”

“So… are we done here?” Dwight asks, looking over Arat’s shoulder to see if she’s done with the drawing.

“Almost,” Arat huffs at the man’s impatience, continuing to make sure she has every last tiny detail.

“We’re going to bring more barrels on to get freshwater and wash down before we raise anchor, right?” Carl questions, glancing between his two lovers.

“Don’t see why not,” Negan says. “Island seems pretty deserted, ‘cept for the bugs. May bring the rest of the crew over in shifts so everyone can get a turn at the fresh water if they want it.”

“I’ll pass out soap,” Carl decides. “At least to anyone who hasn’t already asked me for some.”

“Good. Might make the smell aboard the ship pleasant for once,” Negan says with a laugh.

“Think we’re the cleanest pirates I’ve ever met,” Dwight says with a chuckle of his own.

“You’re certainly the cleanest pirates I’ve ever met,” Carl points out. He looks over at Arat and Laura as they raise to their feet. “Ready?”

“Yeah, we’ll come back t’ double check on our land shift,” Arat says. She clearly means she wants to come back in daylight without everyone watching over her shoulder, but Carl doesn’t point that out. He gets it.

“Well, I’d say this was a success. I feel very good about our find!” Negan says with a slightly manic smile. “We’ll chart a course to the nearest safe port, and then it’ll be off to Greece if things go well! Oh, I’m excited!” He does a happy little lean back, pumping one hand in the air. “C’mon, let’s get back to the boat and share our findings.”

Carl laughs softly, looking around to catch Dwight’s eyes and share a fond look.

Chapter 29

Summary:

Dwight gets his reward for figuring out the puzzle.

 

The river was cold, the baths brisk, but the crew of the Lucille all look, and smell, better for it.

They pull anchor once Arat has a detailed drawing of the Grecian island that they are meant to find, and also a heading for the nearest port town that won’t immediately arrest them upon arrival. It will take them another couple weeks to reach it, but they’ve plenty to talk about in the meantime.

“What materials did you end up collecting from the island?” Dwight asks Carl one night at dinner. “I don’t think I saw anything besides coconuts.”

“Cook and I managed to pull a whole cage of crab, so look forward to that,” Carl says, dipping his spoon in the stew they’re having. Clean water means soup, and god, does he love soup.

He swallows down a bite before he keeps on. “We found some soy plants as well and got a bunch of beans. I found some mint of course, we always need mint. Oh and apparently Enzo can make baskets with palm leaves, so we got a bunch of palm leaves while we were getting coconuts. I’ll actually have something to put my clothes in once I have more than two and a half outfits.”

“Two and a half,” Negan repeats with a soft laugh, enjoying his own stew.

“Wow, that all sounds wonderful,” Dwight says with a nod. “I’ll have to get it all down in our books tomorrow. Good work, hun.”

Carl blinks once, tilting his head. He likes that one, he thinks. As far as sweet names go it doesn’t have the visceral effect of ‘pet’ or the warm gooey feeling he gets when Dwight calls him ‘lad’. Overall he doesn’t hate ‘hun’ so he keeps his mouth shut about it.

“Just gathered what we could. The crabs are going to be our tester for a possible fish barrel,” Carl explains. “I know fish isn’t everyone’s favorite, but it’s something fresh when we’re away from port too long, and if we keep eating all that salted meat we’re bound to keel over sooner rather than later.”

“I like fish,” Negan says, licking his spoon. “It’s shellfish I have problems with. I don’t like to trust an animal I can’t make eye contact with.”

“I’m partial to fish and crustaceans. Crabs are good. Lobster is good too. Mm.” Dwight hums at the thought of a well cooked lobster slathered in butter and served over rice.

“There’s not a lot out there I don’t like,” Carl comments with a shrug before popping another spoonful of stew in his mouth. He’s been so hungry before that he’s eaten things he hated. He's been so hungry before that he’s eaten things that had molded. “I guess if I had to pick a favorite… I had this really good fricassee once when I was in London with Shane.”

“Mm, if we’re talking about all time favorite food, mine has to be pickled cucumbers,” Dwight says. “Delicious things they are.”

“I like a good steak myself,” Negan says with a hum. “But my favorite food would have to be something sweet. Anything sweet, honestly.”

Carl hums around his spoon, swallowing and withdrawing before he speaks in Dwight’s direction. “So you’re the reason there’s an extra jar of the cucumbers no one is allowed to touch.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Carl taps his spoon against his mouth in thought. “I wonder if Cook and I could make some hand pies in that little oven.”

“If you managed to make any kind of sweet pie, I’d do anything you asked,” Negan says, leaning forward with interest.

“You’ll already do anything he asks,” Dwight says with a laugh.

“You’ll already do anything I ask,” Carl says jokingly, jerking a little in his seat when he hears Dwight saying the same.

“Okay, true, but even more anything!”

“Cook and I would have to go through what recipes and ingredients we have on hand,” Carl says, pausing to finish off the rest of his stew, “so don’t expect anything fast.”

“Gettin’ my hopes up. I see how it is.” Negan sighs dramatically, depositing his empty bowl to their usual tray. “I appreciate it though. Thank you for looking for me.”

Carl settles his bowl next to Negan’s before taking his half-full mug in hand. “Don’t thank me yet.”

Negan wiggles his hand back and forth before his gaze shifts to Dwight. “Speaking of thanks, we still owe someone a reward for figuring out the sundial clue.”

Dwight blinks before shaking his head. “Ah, it was nothing. I don’t need anything special, really.”

Carl downs more of his grog to stabilize his nerve a little and then sets the mug aside. He leans forward towards Dwight a bit curling his knuckles under his chin.

“We did promise you anything you wanted,” Carl points out, “I mean who knows how long Negan and I would have just sat there discussing the fine details of myths and legends.”

“O-Oh… Well, I…” Dwight goes pink, leaning into Carl’s touch and wetting his lips with his tongue. “It was really nothing, and you two treat me so well anyway. I really… couldn’t want for anything.” He swallows, glancing back and forth from Carl to Negan.

“Hm,” Carl voices, thumbing along the cut of Dwight’s jaw and enjoying the prickle of facial hair against his skin. He turns his gaze over to Negan. “What do you think, love? Is he fibbing? Or is he just being noble?”

“Oh, he’s lying through his teeth,” Negan says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk as he studies Dwight’s face. “He wants something that he’s too embarrassed to admit.”

Dwight’s eyes flick away as his face heats up in guilt.

“Embarrassed? Dear heart, anything you want, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Carl says gently, squeezing the blond’s jaw a little for emphasis. After asking Negan to finger his empty eye socket, he highly doubts anything Dwight could want would be so embarrassing.

“It’s not… embarrassing… It’s just…” Dwight sighs, reaching up to take Carl’s hand from his chin and press it to his scarred cheek instead. “Not as deviant as something you two might pick.”

Carl’s mouth drops open a little in shock. “You’re calling me a deviant? How am I a deviant?”

“Think he’s calling me a bad influence.”

Then Dwight’s words catch up to Carl and he can’t help but sweep his thumb across the scar textured skin. “What is it then?”

“Well, the, uh… dip in the river made me yearn something great for that bathhouse back at the kingdom,” Dwight admits with a small smile. “I don’t think we could pull off a hot bath on board, but… maybe some pampering? I like when my hair is touched, brushed and the like. Maybe a massage?” He bites his lip, still nervous about asking for something so frivolous.

Shock coils around Carl’s spine first, and then follows immeasurable fondness. “Oh, what a wonderful idea, you absolutely deserve to be pampered, dear heart.”

He looks over at Negan. “I have more than enough coconut oil now. We can comb it into his pretty hair and massage it into his lovely skin, don’t you agree?”

Negan nods, gazing at Dwight with soft affection, adoration shining in his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that for you, my love.”

Dwight smiles and turns his face to hide it in Carl’s palm. “Thank you.”

Carl carefully pulls his hand away, pausing to squeeze Dwight’s before he withdraws completely. Standing, he grabs his mug and downs the rest of his grog, setting it on the tray.

“Alright, love,” he says to Negan. “I’m going to go get the oil. You should take these and get Dwight a mug of water. He’ll need it after a massage.”

“Aye-aye, sir!” Negan stands and takes the tray, dropping a kiss to Dwight’s head as he passes to leave the room, holding the door open for Carl.

Dwight laughs softly, moving to the bed to wait for his lovers to return.

Carl grabs one of his larger jars of oil from the brig quickly, ignoring the smug look Carson sends him over the edge of his book. He gets back to the cabin before Negan which surprises him slightly.

He can’t help but be amused at Dwight’s still dressed form. “If you want me to give you a massage you’re going to have to dress down a bit, my dear, only to your smalls if that’s what makes you comfortable.”

“Right, right.” Dwight laughs softly, standing to remove his accoutrements before he tugs his shirt off over the back of his head. Boots and pants are next, and he does choose to leave his smalls on as he climbs back onto the bed. It’s not that he’s opposed to his lovers seeing every bit of him, but in this instance he wants things to be relaxing and innocent, and if he has his ass out, Negan will be anything but.

“There we go,” Carl says, half praising as he kicks off his boots and discards his jewelry and weapons on Negan’s desk. He grabs his usual chair, bringing it over to settle it beside the bed so that he can use it as an end table.

“We’ll do your back first if that’s alright,” the boy tells him, rolling up his sleeves. “When Negan gets back you can lay your head in his lap and he can play with your hair to your heart's content.”

“Mm, yes, please. That sounds amazing,” Dwight says, getting settled on the bed. He lays down on his stomach and folds his arms to rest his forehead on. “You’ve done this before?”

“Pieces and parts. I picked it up from a couple of servants I knew,” Carl explains, wondering why Negan is taking so long to retrieve water. He scoops some oil on his fingers and begins to lather it between his palms, warming it. “Do you mind if I sit on your legs?”

“Go ahead,” Dwight says. “Do whatever you need, lad. I am in your hands.”

Just then Negan finally appears, a mug of water in each hand and a jar of pickled cucumbers under his arm. “Wasn’t sure how much water he might want, so I got two,” he says, bustling in and placing his items on his desk before looking over to his bed. “Oh, hello. Starting the show without me.”

Dwight snorts, peeking an eye out to look at Negan. “Glad you could join.”

“Just in time,” Carl inclines his head towards Dwight. “Come be his pillow and play with his hair, yes?”

“Oh, I got the good job,” Negan says with a chuckle, toeing his boots off and losing his weapons before climbing into the bed. He pillows Dwight’s head in his lap, moving his arms down to his side on the bed. Negan buries his fingers into the blond strands so readily available to him, pulling a soft groan from Dwight already. “Just relax, hun. We’ll take good care of you.”

Carl can’t keep the indulgent smile off his face as he slips onto the bed, straddling the first mate’s thighs. Negan is a much better talker than him, so Carl focuses on what he’s good at and begins to gently rub the oil into Dwight’s skin.

None of the knots Dwight seems to carry are as debilitating as the ones he worked out of Negan, and they have much more time, so he takes it slow, working to relax the man as he decides which places to tackle first.

Negan works carefully to run his fingers through every section of Dwight’s hair, tugging and scratching lightly as he goes. He murmurs sweet nothings and praises down to Dwight the whole time, just letting his mouth spill his affection in waves.

Dwight, for the most part, seems practically asleep, except for the random groans and sighs and shivers he gives, fingers twitching when Carl hits a particularly good spot. He feels warm and gooey under the attention from his boys, so grateful for them and all they do.

“Alright, dear heart, this one might hurt a little,” Carl warns when he finds a particularly nasty knot of muscle just to the right of Dwight’s spine at the small of his back. “Breathe slow, my dear.”

Dwight tries to do as he’s told, but he feels his breath hitch as a soft pain blooms from where Carl presses. He lets out a soft whine, but keeps still as Carl works.

Carl carefully presses out the knot with his thumbs, rolling it into submission until the tightness goes away. “Doing so good, darling.”

“So, so good,” Negan parrots, soothing Dwight with a rub at the nape of his neck.

Dwight just sighs in response, feeling his body loosen up under Carl’s fingers.

Carl hums softly, scooting down after he gathers a bit more oil to work on Dwight’s legs. He’s not as used to working on someone’s legs as he is the upper body so he’s much more careful here. He’s almost in his own relaxed floaty headspace taking care of Dwight like this.

Seeming to actually run out of words, Negan starts to softly hum as he braids and then unbraids and then braids Dwight’s hair again. He starts with slow sea shanties, sometimes sing-whispering the words. He ends up at his lullaby that he hums so often, chest rumbling with the notes.

When Carl finishes with Dwight’s legs, he gently takes the man by the hips and ushers him to turn over. “‘Round you go, dearest, let me get your arms and hands.”

“Mm…” Dwight mumbles softly, taking a minute to turn over. He blinks his eyes open to look up at Negan, who smiles down at him.

“You having a good time, my love?”

“Yeah. The best,” he says, looking down to Carl as he rests his arms down at his sides again. “Carl is very good at this.”

“I suppose it’s a useful enough skill,” Carl says idly as he takes his place straddling Dwight’s waist again. He reaches out to begin working across the blond’s left shoulder and arm first.

Dwight hums as he rests his head back again into Negan’s lap, eyes closing. “I appreciate it anyway,” he says, raising his free hand to gently rest it on Carl’s hip.

Negan smiles and sinks one hand into Dwight’s hair again, using the other to trace the features on his face.

Carl pinches his lips closed, focusing on his task. He’s starting to think they were right and Negan has been a bad influence on him, because he shouldn’t get even a little bit worked up about Dwight’s hands like this but he is.

He laces their fingers together loosely, rolling Dwight’s wrist until it’s no longer tense. Massaging his palms and each finger until he relaxes enough that Carl can pop each knuckle.

Dwight jolts a little at the first pop, not expecting it, but he just laughs softly at himself and relaxes again.

“Gonna sleep good tonight, love,” Negan says, smoothing out the lines on Dwight’s forehead. “You’re not gonna wake up for a week with how de-stressed you are.”

Dwight snorts and grins lazily. “Sure, sure.”

Carl lets out a low hum. “He deserves a rest.” He trades one arm for the other, beginning the process at Dwight’s shoulder once more.

“You both are too much,” Dwight says with a sigh and a smile, feeling his shoulder pop gently.

“You love us anyway,” Negan murmurs, brushing a bit of Dwight’s hair over his face like a paintbrush.

“That I do.”

Carl’s movements falter, barely a moment and probably unnoticed but they do. It’s times like these where he feels like he perfectly belongs but also feels like he’s terribly out of place. Swallowing, he takes Dwight’s hand in his, beginning the process of massaging it and loosening it enough to pop. “Almost done, dear, then you can drink some water and rest.”

“Mm, thank you, lad. You’ve done a great job wringing me out,” Dwight says, cracking his eyes open to watch Carl as he works on his hand.

Carl can feel the flush wash over his face, eye glued to where he’s working on Dwight’s hand. “You don’t have to thank me, dear heart, this was a reward, one I’m happy to repeat.”

“I like to thank you, though.” Dwight looks up at Negan. “You too, you big lug. Excellent job.”

Negan grins, his cheeks going pink. “My pleasure, dear. My services ring the same as Carl’s. You ask anytime, and I’ll come runnin’.”

“There we are,” Carl says softly as the last knuckle finally gives under his attention and pops. He rubs over the hand one last time before lowering it down next to the man. “How do you feel, dear?” he asks, moving to get up.

“Wonderful,” Dwight sighs, lamenting the loss of Carl’s weight on him.

“You want help to sit up?” Negan asks.

“Give me a second, and then yes. Don’t want to drink the water laying down.”

Carl steals a sip from the water as he brings it over along with the jar in case Dwight really does want a snack. “We’ll let you sleep once you’ve drank at least this mug, dear.”

Dwight hums, eyeing the jar of pickles as Carl brings it closer. God, Negan really does love him.

He gets help sitting up via Negan pushing him gently, groaning softly as he rolls his shoulders and stretches his back. “Oh, that feels nice. Hopefully I’m not too sore in the morning so I can enjoy it.” He laughs softly, taking the water and drinking down half of it in one go.

“I’ll sleep in my hammock tonight,” Carl says, handing the jar to Negan since he can’t really pop it open with his oily hands. “I want you to stretch out as best you can to keep your muscles from tensing up again.”

“Oh?” Dwight’s face falls, even as Negan cracks open the jar of his favorite snack. “Yes, alright. That sounds good.” He accepts one of the cucumbers from Negan as he fishes it out of the jar for him, biting into the crisp treat. Mmm.

Negan gives Carl a look over Dwight’s shoulder, also saddened by the loss of their third for the night.

Carl can’t help but be amused at the two leaning against the wall at the foot of the bed to watch Dwight enjoy his treat. “Don’t look so much like kicked puppies, it’s not like we’ve never slept separately before.”

“Well, sure… But it’s so much better when you’re here,” Negan says with a soft whine in his tone.

“Now, now. Carl is right,” Dwight says in between bites. “We’ve all rotated in and out for some reason or another, and we’ve plenty of other nights to spend with him.”

Huffing softly, Negan pouts. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Carl can’t wipe the half smile from his face at the captain’s childish antics. “We are stuck on this ship together near constantly, I’m more surprised that you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

“I would never,” Negan says with a gasp that’s probably supposed to be overly dramatic but comes out mostly genuine.

Carl can’t help but chuckle. “I wouldn’t be offended. I can be much sometimes.”

“I think Negan revels in much,” Dwight says with a warm look towards Negan as he finishes off his cucumber. He shakes his head when Negan offers him the jar for another. “Never seen him turn down someone’s company.”

“I’m just sociable,” Negan says, screwing the lid back on the jar and setting it aside on Carl’s chair that’s still nearby. “Don’t like being alone. Get in my own head about things when I’m alone.”

Carl thinks about that for a moment. “You know, I feel like I’ve spent a lot of my life alone.” Even when he spent time on The Huntress most of the crew avoided him on principle of him being Shane’s charge. After his mother gave up on his schooling, citing him lazy, no one in the house paid much close attention to him either.

“I did too,” Dwight says, sipping at the rest of his water. “Even on other boats I’d sailed on. I never felt as a part of a crew, a family, as I do here.”

Negan pulls Dwight in to kiss his temple, trying to hide a sad, far away look in his eyes. He hadn’t been alone. He’d been married. He’d been happy. Perhaps that’s why the silence seems so loud now.

Carl takes a breath, leaning off the wall. “I suppose it’s a good thing we found ourselves here then.” He steps over, stooping to give both men a kiss goodnight. “See you in the morning.”

They kiss back, Negan reaching out to catch Carl before he can get too far and kiss him again. “Good night, pet.”

“Sleep tight, lad.”

Carl shivers, giving them both a soft glare. “Sweet dreams, my dears.”

He leaves the room quietly, only stopping to scoop his jewelry into one of his boots and grab the rest of his things. Carson raises a brow at his entrance into the brig but makes no comment as he cuts the lantern off.

Chapter 30

Summary:

The Lucille docks for a little shopping trip and gain a few new crew members.

 

“Hey, pet, what languages can you speak or understand?” Negan asks as the port comes into view over the horizon, sliding up to Carl at the helm.

Carl catches the dagger he’s been throwing up in the air before he looks over at Negan. “Not much of a linguist. It’s a bit like the reading thing. I can understand some Spanish and because of Enzo and Cook I’ve picked up a little Italian. French is my best other than English. Why?”

“Just wonderin’. Where we’re makin’ port there’s gonna be a whole mix of people, like at The Kingdom, but… It’s not going to be as nice. Strap up with your weapons and keep an eye out while we shop, okay?” Negan rests his hand on Carl’s head, drawing him closer. “We’re just here for a map, your clothes, and some quick supplies refill. We probably won’t even stay the night if we can swing it.”

Carl eyes him for a moment. “You seem…concerned. Would you feel better if I kept Carson with me while I do my shopping?”

“Yes, actually. That’s a good idea. Do that. And…” Negan runs his eyes up and down Carl. “I would remove some of your glitter if I was you. This is a port where you want to blend in as much as you can.”

The idea of removing all of his pretty things after he worked so hard to collect them is annoying, but he understands where Negan is coming from. “I’ll be sure to blend then.”

“Thank you.” With a breath, Negan’s shoulders seem to relax from an invisible weight lifting. “I’ll be escorting Arat with the map shopping, and Dwight should have a team with him for the supplies. Find us if you need us, and use the whistle if you really need us.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Carl assures the man, sliding his dagger into its sheath. “And if anyone has issue with that, I’ll be on my worst.”

“I know you will be, my little blood fiend,” Negan says with as much endearment as when he says any other pet name. “Call me over so I can watch the fight, eh?” He grins and bends to press a kiss to Carl’s cheek.

Carl smiles a little. “You’re supposed to encourage me not to get in any fights you know.”

“Oh, yes. Right. Don’t fight. It’s bad, and dangerous, and you definitely don’t look so fuckin’ attractive covered in the blood of your enemies.” Negan whispers the last part directly into Carl’s ear, brushing his lips against the shell of it.

Carl can’t help but snort softly, batting the captain away. “Thank goodness we have Master Dwight around to keep us both in check.”

“He can only do so much,” Negan says with a purr, kissing Carl’s cheek again before leaning back. “Alright, let’s go get ready. We’ll be docking sooner than it looks.”

“I’m going,” Carl sighs, turning to begin his trek to the brig. He’s already decided that he’ll take the gun even if they aren’t his favorite, and that he’s going to keep an eye out for throwing knives while he’s at port, even if just to practice.

They dock amongst a few other boats in the small port, making their way off together. The town they enter is small, much smaller than The Kingdom, even smaller than Alexandria. Dark skinned men and women primarily walk about, the latter carrying baskets of food or cloth upon their heads. There’s a few English men in uniforms, but they’re keeping their head down amongst the townsfolk’s and pirates that roam around.

As they step foot into the shopping alley, Negan goes back over who’s going where and what time to meet back up at the ship. “See you all in a few hours, hopefully with some new purchases.”

Carson and Carl split off from most of the crew who are picking up supplies to get their hands on clothes. With Carson only having the clothes on his back from being on The Huntress they had planned to shop together anyhow, Carl’s ill gotten gains in hand.

They both manage to get a few outfits before Carl’s eye gets taken by a weapons stall that Carson has to eventually drag him away from while fussing that his dallying is going to worry the crew. Carl still makes off with three new throwing knives and an interesting little throwable explosive that he and Laura are totally going to dismember and reengineer.

Even with Carson’s worrying, they still seem to make it back aboard before Negan, and Carl knocks his knuckles against his friend’s chest. “See? Everything is fine.”

Dwight is next to arrive, his group of crewmen carrying the extra food and sailing supplies he’d bought. He directs them to put it away before spotting Carl and Carson.

“How was clothes shopping?” he asks, glancing about casually as he takes mental stock of who is back and who is not.

“Very successful for both myself and Carson,” Carl says happily, he’s already folded his new and old clothes into the basket. “How was supplies gathering?”

“Good. Good. Got some staples and even managed to get some sugarcane for someone’s sweet tooth.” Dwight looks around again. “Speaking of… Are Negan and Arat not back yet?”

“They aren’t,” Carl confirms, mind half on whatever he and Cook can put together for Negan. “Should we be worried?”

Dwight bites his lip but shakes his head. “No… Not yet anyway. We’ll give them a while more before we send out the search party.”

“I suppose we should help the crew get ready to disembark while we wait then,” Carl says, looking around the deck. “I think Carson is trying to convince John to help him make a target of some sort now that I have actual throwing knives.”

“Oh? Did you pick those up in town as well?” Dwight asks, eyebrows raising. “Just be careful with where you set up the target and all.”

“Oh yes, we felt it might help my aim,” Carl says in answer, leaning slightly against the man. “I wouldn’t set up where I could hurt someone, don’t worry.”

“Good, lad.” Dwight smiles, pressing a kiss to Carl’s head. “I’m excited to see your new clothes and also your throwing skills.”

“Well I suppose I’m excited to show off both then,” Carl says, preening from the kiss.

It’s about an hour later, the sun ebbing closer to the horizon, when Negan and Arat finally return. They’ve a few new men in tow with them, along with rolls of maps under Arat’s arm. Negan looks haggard and a little scuffed up, but he’s all in one piece.

“Oi! Cap’n’s back!”

Footsteps slap on the deck as Dwight hurries over, worry painting his features. “Where have you been? Who’s-?”

“We picked up some new crewmen along with the maps. I’ll explain once we’ve set off,” Negan says with a sigh, trying to push Dwight away from the gangplank so they can hurry up and go.

Carl waits until everyone is on board to start squinting at the captain, walking circles around the man as he moves. “Are you hurt? Do I need to get my basket?”

His worry comes out less worried and more automatic. If you weren’t paying attention you might not even notice the furrow to his brow or the way his gaze shifts suspiciously between Negan and the new men.

“I’m okay,” Negan says, resting a hand on Carl’s head and giving him a smile. He turns and motions to one of the new men who comes forward with a nervous look in his eyes. “If you would though… Omari here could use some bandages, and maybe some kind of salve.”

Omari holds his hands up, showing Carl the wounds around his wrists, blood both dried and oozing against his dark skin.

Carl is careful in grabbing the man by the upper part of his forearms to look over the wounds. “Nothing some mint salve won’t fix. Let me go grab my things.”

He looks back at Negan. “If any of the others need help have them wait here with Omari.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Carl steps away to gather his usual bunch of supplies from the brig weighing his medical basket down with extras just in case more happened than was let on.

In the end, it’s Omari and one other man who wait with Negan for Carl. They show him their wrists and their ankles, but those seem to be the only wounds they need cared for.

Carl tends to both of them carefully. He is silent with them, moving with clearly pronounced motions. It’s different than how he has tended to the rest of the crew, but if anyone asks he can kick them in the ankles and say he’s trying not to scare the new crew off yet.

When he’s finished he pulls the basket on his arm again and looks at them both as he steps back to Negan’s side. “There should be extra hammocks below deck in one of the crates. If you can’t find them ask John or Enzo,” he tells them, pointing out each man.

“Thank you,” Omari says, nodding to Carl and then to Negan. “Both of you.”

“It is our pleasure, really. Please, relax. Food will be served shortly after we take off,” Negan says with a smile and a gesture towards the open deck. The two men nod again and head off, examining their new bandages with shines in their eyes.

Negan sighs and rubs at the back of his head. “Alright. Good. Yeah.” He pats Carl on the shoulder before drawing him closer just to feel his warmth. “C’mon. Let’s raise anchor and get out of here.”

“Best if we do,” Carl says evenly, leaning into the captain. “I fear if we don’t, I’ll put much more trouble on this place than you did.”

As gruff as John and Enzo can be, Carl knows the newcomers will be in good hands. Still he can’t take his eyes off of them until they make it across the deck. When they do, he looks over the rest of the crew performing a mental head count. “I need to make sure Cook knows about the extra portions.”

“Sure, love. Go on. I’ll be directing us out of here.” Negan presses a kiss to Carl’s head before shooing him off.

They do a quick count before Dwight and Negan confirm everyone is on board and then it’s time to shove off. They catch the wind well and leave the worrisome port behind them.

Working with Arat, they get their new heading, traveling up the coast towards Spain so they can head on through towards Greece. When they’re done, Negan dismisses her and collapses into his chair, exhaustion seeping out of him.

“As many nutrients as we can pack in,” is what Carl ends up telling Cook as he rolls up his sleeves and takes his place beside the man in the kitchen. They end up making a rather thick rice meal, using a good chunk of the leafy greens Dwight picked up and shredding up fish.

Carl stays through the servings, even though the tray has already been prepared and the scent of the spices is frankly making his mouth water. He wants to make sure everyone manages to get food before he heads up to the captain’s cabin. When he’s sure, he takes the tray, nodding to Cook on his way out of the galley.

When he enters, Dwight is already there talking to Negan who has his books and quill out on his desk, but his glasses are pushed up to the top of his head as he rubs at his face.

“I couldn’t just leave them there.”

“I know.”

“It’s inhumane. I couldn’t…”

“I know, dear. It’s okay. No harm done.”

“I just… I feel disgusting thinking about what they’ve been through.”

“Yeah, but now they’re here and safe. You made the right choice, love.”

“Did better than I would have,” Carl says softly, settling the tray in its usual spot on the desk and beginning to unload it.

He rounds the desk to Negan’s side, gently pulling the man’s specs from his head. “Everything will work out. I’m sure that they can stay if they wish, or they can leave at the next safe port we find. Arat and Laura are moving their hammocks to the brig after they eat to give more room to the newcomers, and Cook and I can come up with a few ideas for food replenishment.”

Negan sighs and drops his hands from his face to look up at Carl. “Thank you, Carl. You’ve been such a big help. I hope your shopping went a little smoother than mine did.”

Carl sets the specs in their place and reaches out to cradle Negan’s face. “I found lots of lovely pretty things to add to my collection if that makes you feel better.” He sweeps his thumb across Negan’s cheekbone. “What do you say we dig in, hm?”

Negan nods gently, pressing into Carl’s hands for a long moment. “Yes. Let’s. And it does make me feel better. I can’t wait to see them.”

“I hear he also got some throwing knives,” Dwight says, taking his bowl from the desk.

“Oh? Very fun.”

Carl drops a kiss on Negans head before making his way over to his chair and taking up his bowl. “It seems I’ll have to postpone some of that fun. I want to make sure everyone gets settled… I know it isn’t my responsibility, of course, but still.”

“You have a kind soul, love,” Dwight says with a smile, stirring his food around before taking a bite. “You’re good at helping others. Everyone appreciates it.”

Carl points his spoon at the first mate. “Don’t go spreading that around.”

Dwight laughs, as does Negan, before they both focus on their food. It’s easy to tell Negan is tired and not himself when he offers no casual conversation topic, focus solely on his bowl before him. Dwight tells him about the sugarcane, to which he gives a smile and a thank you, but little more. It’s strange having the always boisterous captain so silent.

“We’ll head to bed soon, my love. Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” Carl asks as he sets his empty bowl on the tray and grabs his drink.

Negan looks up, smiling softly at the endearment, and clears his throat. “‘M fine. Just tired. I didn’t get into a fight so much as a scuffle.” He sighs and takes a drink from his mug. “Weapons weren’t even drawn.”

“Hm,” Carl voices, tapping his fingers against the mug in his hands… not nervously, just to tap. “I suppose Master Dwight and I will just have to lay on top of you tonight rather than the other way around.”

Negan chuckles and looks between his two lovers. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he says, finishing off his meal at the same time as Dwight.

“I wouldn’t either. Been a while since we got Negan in the middle, eh?” Dwight says with a small smirk.

“Sounds lovely, I think,” Carl agrees, before finishing off his drink and setting it on the tray. Without his jewelry on, he doesn’t have anything other than his weapons to take off while he waits for them to finish theirs, and he won’t be trooping to the galley without those.

Humming, Negan nods and finishes up his drink, rising out of his chair to start getting ready for bed. Dwight follows him, trailing his fingers across Carl’s shoulder’s as he passes.

“I’ll be right back,” he assures them as he takes up the tray. It doesn’t take him long to leave it in the galley knowing that Cook intends to make one of the newcomers his dish boy.

When he gets back he pulls his boots off first, leaving them by his chair as he works on his belts. “I’ll get the candles tonight.”

“Thank you, love,” Dwight says, already in his soft clothes and crawling into bed first. He’d helped Negan get undressed while Carl was gone, leaving the man shirtless and in loose pants as always.

Negan climbs in after Dwight, settling under the blankets before looking towards Carl. “Ready for ya.”

Carl bundles his belts around the sheaths to his weapons and kicks his pants off to lay them over the back of the chair knowing that because they’re Dwight’s if he sleeps in them he’ll wake up with them twisted uncomfortably around his legs. He makes his way around the room with his weapons in hand, putting out candles and lanterns before he comes to the bedside.

Leaning his weapons against the wall, he slides into bed promptly rolling on his side to loop his arm around Negan. “Goodnight,” he mumbles, laying his head half on his pillow and half on Negan’s to tuck his face against the captain’s shoulder.

Dwight copies the position, sliding his arm in next to Carl’s as he nuzzles his face in and kisses Negan’s neck. “Goodnight,” he murmurs.

“Goodnight, my loves,” Negan says, closing his eyes and soaking up the affection and warmth greedily. He falls asleep feeling more relaxed and safe than he has in a long while.

For some reason, it takes Carl a much longer time than usual to fall asleep, but he doesn’t stray from the two men’s side even once. When he finally manages to drift off, he’s practically curled himself around Negan’s arm as if anchoring himself against the man, fingers still lightly tangled in Dwight’s sleeve.

Chapter 31

Summary:

The boys spend morning in bed, and Dwight gets his fingers in Carl’s socket.

Notes:

R: More smut 🫣 You’re welcome 😂

⚠️ Socket play again in this chapter

 

Dwight wakes like that the next morning, a little sweaty from being pressed to Negan all night, but warm and happy to have him and Carl nearby. Negan’s snoring softly between them as the morning light fades in through the window, and Dwight just soaks it all up.

He shifts to press a kiss to Negan’s cheek, making his snores stutter, before looking over towards Carl with a smile.

The shifting of the mattress is what wakes Carl, and he yawns, pawing groggily at his good eye. Negan’s hand has found its way between his knees where they had been annoyingly knocking together the night before - half the reason why he doesn’t like sleeping on his side.

He blinks to fight off his grogginess and meets Dwight’s eyes. “G’mornin’.”

“Morning, love,” Dwight murmurs back, reaching out to skim his fingers over Carl’s cheek. “You sleep good?”

“As good as I alw-” Carl pauses, the usual answer halfway out of his mouth. “Actually, no… I wonder why…”

“No?” Dwight’s brows furrow slightly as he rests his chin on Negan’s chest so he can look at Carl. “How so? Bad dreams? Too hot?” He presses the back of his fingers to Carl’s forehead. “Stressed?”

Carl scrunches up his nose and it pulls at the still forming scar tissue and scabbing in his face uncomfortably so he drops the face immediately. “No idea. Just couldn’t fall asleep. My brain was too awake.”

“Interesting,” Dwight says, running his fingers through Carl’s hair. “Well, if you want to go back to sleep, or take a nap later, you’re free to do so.”

“Probably best not to,” Carl sighs, relaxing into the touch. He wonders if he couldn’t sleep because of the new people being on board, but he dismisses the thought because it’s not as if they were a danger to he and his.

“Alright, lad. Whatever you want to do.” Dwight trails his fingers down Carl’s cheek to trace along his jaw. “C’mere, hm? Let me give you a morning kiss.”

Carl shifts to hover slightly over Negan’s chest, tilting his head to accept a kiss from the first mate happily.

Dwight smiles as he presses their lips together, kissing Carl warmly. He keeps his hand on Carl’s face to hold him close, tilting his head to slot their mouths together.

Carl hums softly, pressing impossibly closer to Negan to better enjoy Dwight’s kiss. It’s always so easy to just let himself sink into their kisses, comfortable and warm and welcoming.

So engrossed in each other, they don’t seem to notice that Negan has stopped snoring beneath them. The captain smiles, biting his lip as he watches the two make out above him. Beautiful way to start the day.

Carl opens for Dwight slightly, not pushing for anything more but clearly inviting the man to lick into his mouth if he would like.

Dwight accepts happily, making a soft noise as he presses his tongue inside Carl’s mouth. He jolts softly but doesn’t pull away as he feels Negan squeeze his leg beneath the blanket.

“What a way to wake up,” Negan purrs, also squeezing where his hand rests between Carl’s legs.

Negan’s hand isn’t quite far enough up to affect Carl much but he still lets out a pleased sound. Tongue pressing up to trap Dwight’s in his mouth for a moment so that he can suck at it the way he likes. Clearly they don’t need to separate just yet if Negan isn’t feeling left out.

Dwight whines softly, letting Carl control the kiss and take what he wants, so willingly to just melt into him.

“God, you two look so good together,” Negan murmurs, eyes tracing the seam of their lips and flashes of tongue. “I’m so lucky to get this view. Two beautiful boys kissing in my bed. Think I ‘bout died and gone to Heaven.”

Carl shivers a bit at Negan’s words, rolling his tongue up against Dwight’s. If he doesn’t pull away soon the kiss will get too sloppy, he can feel drool pooling against his tongue and collecting at the corners of his mouth. Still, he doesn’t want to pull back just yet.

Dwight whines again and gasps softly into Carl’s mouth as Negan squeezes his hands, trailing them up both his lover’s legs.

“Love hearing your noises. Could listen to you two all the time. Should have you two going at it while I’m doing my book work just for some lovely background noise.”

Carl can’t help but gasp softly at the feeling of Negan’s rough hand sliding up between his thighs, breath puffing against Dwight’s mouth. It interrupts the kiss just long enough for Carl to swallow and switch their places, pressing his tongue forward into Dwight’s mouth to curl behind his teeth.

“Yeah, huns. Just like that.”

Dwight moans lightly, shivering at from all the sensations. He sucks gently at Carl’s tongue, curling his over it the way Carl did for him.

Carl likes sucking on someone else’s tongue much more than having his tongue sucked, but the sensation is pleasant enough to have him tugging Dwight more towards him. It presses them both more tightly to Negan’s sides, not having to worry about waking the man with their movements. He’s honestly half surprised the captain hasn’t said or done anything more ludicrous.

“You two make me so crazy. So good for me. So fuckin’ good.” Negan’s hands go ever higher, making Dwight shudder and rock his hips as Negan slides his hand into the seam of his thigh.

Carl squeezes his legs tight, trapping Negan’s hands between his thighs for a moment. The captain’s words only egg him on, changing the angle of he and Dwight’s kiss so that he can suck the man’s lower lip into his mouth and run his teeth across the soft flesh.

“Ah…” Dwight breathes, reaching out to steady himself with a hand on Negan’s chest. It makes Negan rumble in glee, eyes glued to Carl’s teeth digging into Dwight’s pink lip.

In a nebulous sort of way, Carl knows he should probably pull back and end the kiss. He doesn’t though, just keeps going with his fingers tight in Dwight’s sleeve where they’re both pressed against Negan.

Dwight whimpers softly into Carl’s mouth, rocking his hips against Negan’s hand again. He doesn’t necessarily want to get off, but the friction feels so good combined with the kiss.

Negan gives Carl’s thigh a squeeze, surely leaving little bruises in his wake.

Carl shivers, finally pulling away from the kiss to catch his breath and half glare at Negan. He doesn’t exactly mind the bruises but he has to give the man a little bite back for it.

“Are you feeling left out?”

“Who, me?” Negan says with a cocky smirk, wiggling his fingers as much as he can between Carl’s thighs. “I’m enjoying the show.”

Dwight pants heavily, falling a little back now that he’s released from Carl’s mouth. His lips are kiss bruised and so wet, looking absolutely debauched.

Carl rolls his eye, pressing his hand against Negan’s chest for stabilization. He leans up, pressing his mouth against the other man’s in a loose kiss.

Negan purrs in glee, lifting his head to kiss back gently. He feels Dwight fall back down at his side, nuzzling into Negan’s shoulder as he catches his breath and watches Negan and Carl kiss.

Kissing Negan, like kissing Dwight, has become one of his favorite things. Something that feels so indulgent that he never would have been able to immerse himself in on land. He knows that they should probably stop this and go about their day, but instead he opens for Negan, hoping to coax the man into licking into his mouth the way he likes.

Negan really needs no more invitation than that, immediately shoving his tongue in and tracing Carl’s teeth with it, feeling every groove and point. He groans softly, reveling in the taste of Carl mixed with Dwight.

It’s an exercise in will not to just climb up on top of the captain and plant himself there. He scrapes his teeth across the man’s tongue trapping it for a moment just to roll his tongue up against it with a soft hum of pleasure.

Gently, Dwight reaches down to remove Negan’s hand from his thighs, bringing it up out from under the blankets. He moves it to Carl’s head, smiling as Negan immediately digs his fingers into the long hair there and tugs at the roots as he continues kissing Carl.

Carl groans softly at having both of Negan’s hands on him, brain becoming clogged rather than staying on the logical path of getting ready for their day. He digs his nails into the captain’s chest slightly pushing up a little more to give Negan more access to his mouth.

Negan takes it greedily, curling his tongue around Carl’s before he tugs at his hair again to pull him back just enough to sink his teeth into Carl’s plush bottom lip.

They could fight like dogs for dominance but in the early morning like this Carl doesn’t have the energy. He would much rather allow Negan to take advantage of the way he goes pliant, gasping against the man’s teeth and licking over them to try and entice him back into the kiss.

“God, you taste so good,” Negan growls into Carl’s mouth, kissing him hard again. “Wanna eat you up. Consume you down to your bones.” He tugs Carl’s hair again, squeezing at his thigh, and nips at Carl’s lip until he can taste blood.

The moan that rips from Carl is wholly without his permission. Nails scratching against Negan’s skin he pushes up until he’s practically on top of the man, chasing the taste as best he can with a hand anchored in his hair.

“Love your sounds, my pet. My pretty pet. Let me hear you, see you, taste you,” Negan says, licking over Carl’s lip before licking into his mouth. He shifts his fingers, digging them under the bandage wrapped around Carl’s head, and pulls at it, wanting it off so he can see Carl’s bare face.

Carl can feel the wrapping around his face loosening but he can’t be bothered to care. He whines against the assault on his mouth, knowing he’s terribly hard from both the sharp pains and the way Negan talks so filthy and uses that name that always seems to make Carl react.

He reaches out, not all there, but knowing he wants to feel Dwight. Wants the first mate’s hands on him or his hands on Dwight.

Dwight reaches back and takes Carl’s wrist, directing Carl’s hand to his face so he can turn his head and kiss Carl’s palm, hoping it’s alright in the moment. He helps Negan get Carl’s bandage off, tossing it to the side, and then tucks Carl’s hair behind his ear to show off his socket.

Carl lets out an embarrassing little keen at the feel of Dwight’s lips against his hand, but doesn’t protest.

“So pretty,” Dwight whispers, trailing his fingers around the edge of the wound before Negan pulls Carl back to get a look at him himself.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Negan murmurs. He glances to Dwight before back to Carl, lecherous smile curling over his face. “Are you still sensitive in there, lovely pet? Can Dwight get a feel? Hm?”

Carl’s panting, out of breath, blood beading his lip with his erection practically shoved against Negan’s arm. He’s a mess. The surprise of feeling Dwight’s nimble fingers tracing the scabbing and pinking scar tissue under his eye rather than Negan’s on top of the filthy way the captain is talking to him has him leaking in his smalls.

He swallows down a needy sound and nods because he knows Dwight will be careful and he knows he wants it desperately.

Negan looks to Dwight again, watching his face as he concentrates so hard at dipping his finger into Carl’s eye socket so carefully. “Press in around the sides,” he directs, sliding his arm against Carl’s hard cock slowly. “The further back you go, the more sensitive it is.”

Dwight swallows and nods against Carl’s hand, pressing in and down along the inner walls of Carl’s socket.

Carl’s breath heaves out of him in a hearty gasp, good eye fluttering and hips twitching. It’s not a surprise that his socket is still so sensitive, but by god it really is. He wonders if every time they do this he will think it’s some fluke.

“Oh…” Dwight breathes, understanding now why Negan tried this in the first place. Carl’s reactions are something else.

“Feels good, pet? No bandage barrier this time. Dwight’s the first to touch you raw inside.”

“You can’t just say-" things like that, gets caught in his throat as the fingers in his socket twitch and drag across the bottom still just barely inside. A keen tumbles out of his mouth and he’s not sure if it’s from Negan’s words or Dwight’s touch.

“Can’t say what? How good it feels to have Dwight touching you where no one else has? Giving you pleasure like you’ve never felt?” Negan purrs, shifting his hand to slide it into Carl’s smalls and cup the head of his cock. He peppers kisses along Carl’s jaw as Dwight curls his fingers in a bit deeper.

Carl tries not to go slack like a cut puppet, tensing his shoulders even as he shivers over their touches. Dwight is gentle, sure, but it doesn’t change the fact that sparks are burning down his spine and fizzling out under his skin.

“Oh, you’re so warm inside, lad,” Dwight says with awe, twisting his wrist to run the pads of his fingers along the top of Carl’s socket. “It feels good?”

“So good, my heart, oh please-" A soft moan escapes Carl interrupting his sentence, and he’s thankful for it because he’s got no clue what other nonsense was going to come out.

“Love it when you beg, pet,” Negan murmurs, tilting Carl’s head closer via the grip still on his hair. It gives Dwight enough room to push his fingers farther in, curling them towards the back of the socket.

The lightning that shoots down Carl’s spine has him moaning loudly and thrusting into Negan’s hand. He’s leaking like crazy, he knows, and he can’t get enough of this but part of him wonders if this will be what it’s like when they… Carl keens at the thought.

“God, doesn’t he sound so good,” Negan growls as he turns his head and kisses Dwight’s temple. “He’s so fucking wet too. All from your pretty fingers in his pretty hole.”

Dwight whines softly, shivering at Negan’s words and Carl’s noises. He’s amazed at how sensitive Carl’s socket is, and can’t help wonder if any other places on the boy are the same.

“Negan,” Carl can’t help but whine, he’s leaving crescent shaped bruises in the man’s skin from how hard his nails are pressing and with the next twitch of Dwight’s fingers he can’t help but mewl out, “Dwight,” as well.

“Oh, Carl. Fuck…” Dwight bites his lip, shuddering from the sound of his name being so wantonly called from those soft pink lips.

“Say our names again, Carl,” Negan says, voice husky with lust as he presses kisses anywhere he can reach on Carl’s face. He holds Carl’s cock tighter, relishing in the friction. “Want our names on your lips when you come. Want us to be the only thing in that pretty little head of yours.”

As if he could think of anything else but them at this moment. Either way he acquiesces, voice breathy and broken as he hurtles towards his climax. “Please, Negan, Dwight- ah!”

“Good, pet.”

“Good, lad.”

Negan and Dwight watch on with rapturous attention, keeping up their ministrations to push Carl over the edge.

They’re horrible. They’re lovely. He could strangle them both, but he’d rather burrow himself between them.

Carl lets out the most obnoxiously needy moan, body tensing up completely as he tumbles over the edge. He’s definitely made a mess of Negan’s hand and possibly his smalls, but he only has the wherewithal to slowly tilt his head to the side as to not jar Dwight’s fingers and lean his temple against Negan’s chest as his brain goes foggy.

“Oh, yes. There you go, Carl. Shh. So fucking good. Enjoy it.” Negan presses kisses to Carl’s head as Dwight gently removes his fingers. He leans in to examine Carl’s socket, making sure it’s not harmed, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Love seeing you come, lad. Beautiful.”

Negan carefully extracts his hand from Carl’s smalls, keeping his hand cupped with as much of Carl’s spend as he can get. He had been trying to keep Carl clean, though he’s unsure yet how well he did.

Carl’s breathing shakily against Negan’s chest, trying to bring himself to a semblance of awareness. He shivers at the praise, sensitive to it with his brain up in the air like this.

He paws at Dwight’s waistband across Negan’s stomach. “Can I?”

Taking Carl’s hand, Dwight brings it up and presses kisses into Carl’s palm and fingers. “Just relax, my love. Thank you for thinking of me, but I am okay,” he says softly, trying to make sure it doesn’t sound like he’s rejecting Carl’s advances because he’s really not. “It was satisfying to me watching you come undone so fantastically. I need no more but to watch you enjoy it now.”

He tries desperately to ignore the heat that tickles through him at the feel of Dwight’s lips on his palm. Instead of focusing on that, he half pouts up at Negan, still too floaty to have a perfect handle on his self control.

“What, honey?” Negan says with a soft laugh at Carl’s expression, petting through his long hair gently. “You know Dwight’s like that sometimes. Nothing to get upset over.” He traces his finger down the bridge of Carl’s nose.

Carl scrunches up his nose and lays his head back down against Negan’s chest. He curls his finger in the captain’s waistband loosely, ready to be denied again or encouraged.

“You wanna get your hands on some cock that badly, huh?” Negan shifts slightly, letting Carl feel how hard he is in his pants. “I won’t stop you none, love. Go ahead.”

Carl’s face flames. “You don’t have to make me sound like such a harlot,” he huffs bitterly, but he’s still sliding down Negan’s body to wiggle the captain’s pants down his thighs and capture the head of his cock between his raw lips.

“But I love it when you’re a little wh- Ah, fuck…” Negan moans softly, biting his lip as he looks down to watch the show. Dwight’s watching too, drawing lazy circles on Negan’s chest with his fingers.

Carl still enjoys this immensely. All the times these men have touched him and been touched by him he’s loved, but there’s something about sliding down on one of their pricks until he can hardly think that calls to him. Maybe it’s the taste, maybe it’s the sensation on his tongue, but he has a feeling he enjoys the fullness of the act the most.

“God, that’s good. So good. Doing great, pet. Fuck.” Reaching up with one hand and down with the other, Negan threads his fingers with Dwight’s and caresses Carl’s head at the same time. He tries not to push, tries not to buck his hips, but, lord, is Carl’s wet heat so tempting.

Carl moans softly, sliding further down on the man’s cock. It pulls oddly at the right side of his face and that only manages to make him want to do more.

Dwight’s cock is easier to take, that’s why he had reached over to the blond first, but he’d planned to do both if Negan hadn’t gotten off by that point. He just had to take this a little slower than he wants, work his jaw open in increments and try to relax his throat.

“Don’t gotta… You don’t gotta get the whole thing, love. Fuck… Ah, don’t push yourself too hard,” Negan says with a groan, squeezing Dwight’s hand. The slow sink into the warmth of Carl’s mouth is pleasurable but maddening. He turns his head, coaxing Dwight into a kiss to distract himself for just a moment, and give Carl the time he needs.

Carl knows he can’t get the whole length of Negan inside at this angle. He almost rolls his eye. No if he ever wanted to do that he’d probably have to lay on the desk with his head tilted back and just let Negan use his mouth.

It’s an alluring thought, and he thinks on it for a moment while he wraps his hand around the remainder of the man’s prick. He certainly wouldn’t be opposed to such a thing, but perhaps they’re right and Negan has been a bad influence on him.

Negan groans into Dwight’s mouth, breaking away only to look down at Carl again. “He feels so good.”

“I know, my love.”

“God, his mouth is so wet and warm.”

“Yeah? He’s taking you very well.” Dwight shakes his hand out of Negan’s so he can slide it down Negan’s body. He follows the happy trail under Negan’s belly button and pets through the dark curls at the base of his cock, making Negan shudder and jolt softly.

Carl shifts his hand away for a moment, in case Dwight wants to touch more, hollowing out his cheeks to make up for the loss. As awful as it feels to think of himself so whorish, he adores when they talk like this and it probably translates to the way he works over Negan’s cock.

Dwight smiles and takes over where Carl’s hand was, wrapping around Negan and squeezing to draw a deep moan out of him. “Enjoying this, love?“

“You… know it,” Negan pants.

“Mm… You’re so hard. Bet you’re leaking so much in his mouth,” Dwight purrs, running his thumb up to meet the seam of Carl’s lips where they wrap around Negan’s cock. It’s a bit obscene, but so fucking good all at once.

Carl shifts a little, angling his head to the side a bit so that he can take Dwight’s thumb in his mouth next to Negan’s cock. His tongue isn’t quite long enough to do anything other than barely graze the digit but he does that anyway.

“Oh… Saucy little minx he is,” Dwight says with a shiver. “Oh, lad. You look so good with Negan’s cock in your mouth. Tease right under the head, yeah? He loves that.”

Carl draws back a little, displeased about losing the sensation of Dwight’s thumb in his mouth, but wanting to follow the first mate’s order. He tightens his sore lips around Negan’s girth and rolls his tongue up under the head.

“Fuck!” Negan jerks, his hand on Carl’s head tightening in his hair. “Oh, fuck…”

“Good. Just like that. Work him up nice and good. Make him writhe.” Dwight smiles, filthy words spilling from soft lips. He moves his hand up to touch Carl’s cheek, caressing it to feel the way he sucks on Negan.

Carl takes advantage of having pulled back, dragging Negan’s cock head across the ridges at the roof of his mouth to make himself shiver. Sucking on the way down again, he hums softly using his tongue as pressure in the underside of the man’s prick.

It’s usually not Dwight who’s talking to him like this and that just makes the situation all the more filthy.

“Good. Doing so good.”

Negan groans again and reaches out blindly to grab at Dwight. “‘M close. Fuck, so close.”

“Hear that, lad?” Dwight tucks a bit of Carl’s hair behind his ear. “He’s close to coming. Are you going to swallow it down like a good boy, now?”

The brain fog only seems to get worse with Dwight’s words. Fuzzy heat ripping down his spine at good boy like he’s some hunting dog.

He shifts back up Negan’s cock a little, flattening his tongue under the head and sucking in encouragement.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” Negan tenses for just a moment before the spring in his belly snaps and he comes with Carl’s name spilling off his lips like a prayer. His hips rock shallowly with the waves of orgasm pulsing through him, keeping Carl’s mouth on him as he fills him up.

Carl swallows down what he’s given greedily with a pleased noise until there’s no more to take. Finally once he’s coaxed Negan through it, he pulls away leaning his head against the captain’s thigh to catch his breath.

“Wow, wonderful job, lad,” Dwight praises softly, looking up to watch Negan throw an arm over his eyes and pant to catch his own breath. “And good job to you too, love.” Dwight presses a kiss to Negan’s shoulder, feeling him laugh softly.

“Thanks, D. Kid’s got a hell of a mouth on him.”

“‘S my best feature,” Carl slurs against the captains leg feeling properly happy and floaty now.

Dwight chuckles and reaches down to brush the backs of his fingers across Carl’s temple. “Sure it is, love. You wanna come back up here and have a proper lay in?”

In honesty, Carl would be perfectly happy staying where he’s at with his face pushed up against Negan’s thigh. He does scoot up back towards the head of the bed though, knowing that sooner rather than later they’re all going to have to make an appearance on deck - especially having so many new crew members.

Negan and Dwight drag Carl in between them as he moves back up, both curling up around him and holding him close.

“Mm, it’s still early,” Dwight murmurs into Carl’s hair.

“Wake me up when you can smell breakfast,” Negan says, eyes already closed. They both know they’ll have to get up soon, but a few extra minutes of sleep never hurt anybody.

Carl laughs softly. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to fall back asleep, even with their morning exercise, but he does enjoy the closeness and the warmth of the two men pressed to either side of him. He supposes they can lay around until they catch a whiff of breakfast or the deck starts to get rowdy.

Chapter 32

Summary:

Some target practice, some rain, and a nice, soft night.

 

“We’ll be passing by Spanish ports soon. Do any of our newest members wish to get off there? We should also be able to drop them off in Italy or Greece if that suits them,” Negan asks Dwight as they look out over the deck from the helm.

“As far as I’ve heard, they all wish to stay on as part of the crew.”

“Is that right? Well, we must be doing something right.” Negan chuckles softly, watching Carl throw his new daggers at the makeshift target John and Carson put together for him. He hums and makes his way down the steps and over to Carl.

“How’s it going with the target practice, pet?”

“I’m only allowed to use the throwing knives or weapons provided by other people,” Carl says, lining up his next throw. The knife thunks into the board two inches to the left of the middle dot. “Apparently using my dagger is cheating,” he confides, looking away from the target to Negan with a soft grin. He’s had more free time lately in the working sense because many of their new crew have been given some of his tasks so he ends up supervising and keeping up with the general health of the crew.

Negan laughs loud and gives Carl a pat on the back. “Alright, alright. Let me see you use yours though. I want to see you hit that bullseye.” He grins and bounces on the balls of his feet in excitement.

Carl sighs a little and pulls his dagger from its sheath. He twists and flips it between his fingers not looking at his hand or the target board. He’s still standing in the same place, it’s not like it’s moved.

Throwing the dagger, it lands with a decisive thunk and Carl finally turns to look at it, squinting at the dagger protruding right from the middle of the board. “You see what I mean? Carson says it’s cheating, and I shouldn’t rely on it.”

Negan claps as his eyebrows raise. “It’s impressive, I’ll give you that, but he’s right. If we get into another fight with a whole ship and you throw your dagger, there’s no way of knowing when you’ll get it back. You need to get the feel of knives not made for you.”

He nods towards the target. “You’re so confident in yours that you don’t even look to throw it. Have you tried that with any others?”

Carl scrunches up his nose, moving to retrieve his dagger and the three throwing knives. “Of course not. You need to look to aim, and I wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt someone.”

“There ain’t no one for you to hurt over there,” Negan says, waving at the empty space beyond and around the target. “C’mon. Let me see you do what you just did but not with yours. It may give you a different perspective. Help you feel the odd weight of the knife and know how to shift to control it, rather than just looking and aiming and hoping for the best.”

Carl comes back to his spot from before, dagger stowed in its usual sheath. “Honestly, Negan, it’s like you think I’m magic or something.”

He twists and flips one of the throwing knives through his fingers. It’s slower than he usually does with his dagger but with practice he could probably do some pretty flashy stuff with these lightweight knives. It settles blade first between his two fingers easily, rather different than he would throw his dagger but not unfamiliar.

“I’m not going to hit a bullseye just because I’m not looking at it,” Carl huffs but keeps his eyes on Negan as he flings the knife.

Negan watches it zoom through the air and thunk into the target. He grins, eyes lighting up, and leans in to pull Carl into a quick, but heated, kiss. “Take a look for yourself, ay, pet? Tell me you aren’t magical again.”

Carl glares at the knife when he pulls back from the lovely, if surprising, kiss. “Or more logically, I’ve gotten used to where I’m standing and need to practice more from a different angle or distance.”

“You do that then,” Negan says with what can only be described as a giggle. “Keep track of your bullseyes. I’ll give you a kiss for each one.” He gives Carl a wink and a head pat before sauntering off again.

“I don’t need to,” Carl calls after him, “you’ll give as many as I ask for anyway.”

Just to spite himself, he throws the other two knives at the same time. He glares at the three knives all within a fingerswidth of each other. “Damn.”

 

~

 

Knocking on the doorframe leading into the brig, Dwight smiles and waves at Carl. “Hope I’m not disturbing any potion making in here,” he says with a chuckle, stepping in and looking over Carl’s little apothecary setup.

“Nothing so serious,” Carl says, taking down the last dried herb from the line. He’d been planning to grind them up for a few tonics but he hadn’t even brought out his burner yet. “Did you need something, dear?”

“I have something for you,” Dwight says with a nod. He pulls out a palm size box, opening it to show Carl a couple of golden rings and a gold necklace inlaid with precious stones. “Got it at our last stop and just forgot to give it to you in all the excitement.”

Carl pauses, eyeing the golden jewelry within the box. He’d been rushing around so much lately trying to deal with the new crew and his own problems that he hadn’t touched anything he bought at port either. He can understand how Dwight might have forgotten but also…

“What’s the occasion?”

Dwight shrugs, cheeks going soft pink. “No occasion. I saw them and thought of you is all,” he says. “Do you like them?”

“I do,” Carl says with a soft smile. He’s not worn much jewelry at all since they stopped so it’s easy to hold out his hand even if his brain screams about it. “Would you like to put them on me?”

Lighting up, Dwight nods. He rests the box down on the corner of Carl’s worktable, plucking up one of the rings and taking Carl’s hand gently. He slides the first ring onto his pointer finger, a simple thing with a leaf engraving. Dwight admires it on Carl for a moment before picking the next one up and sliding it onto his ring finger. This one is a little more intricate with a woven band.

“Perfect fits,” he says running his thumb over Carl’s fingers. There’s a moment where he begins to bring Carl’s hand up so he can kiss Carl’s knuckles, but he stops short, remembering the last time he’d tried that when not in the throes of lust.

Carl’s fingers flex and he gently pulls his hand away to inspect the rings. “They’re beautiful, dear heart. Thank you.”

His eye flicks to the necklace still in the box. “Would you like to put that on me as well? Doesn’t seem like I can just slip it over my head.”

“Yes, I’d like that.” Dwight takes the necklace and steps around behind Carl. He loops it around the front of Carl’s neck before shifting his hair to one side so he can clasp it easier. “There. How’s that?”

Carl reaches up, pressing his fingers against the gems. He was right, it sits much closer to his neck than his other necklaces. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

When was the last time someone gave him something so precious? It might have been as long ago as when his father gave him his rapier.

Dwight comes back around to see Carl from the front. He smiles and reaches out to touch the necklace himself, trailing his fingers up Carl’s neck to cup his face. “It’s my pleasure, dear. I’m glad you like.” He leans in to kiss Carl quickly but warmly before leaning back again. “It all looks very good on you.”

Carl can’t help but preen a little. “Well I highly doubt you would get me anything that looks bad on me, dear heart.”

“I think you just make everything look good,” Dwight says with a soft laugh. He tugs on a bit of Carl’s hair before pulling back.

“Flatterer.”

“I’ll get out of your hair now. See you at dinner, love.”

“See you.” Carl returns to his herbs for now. He’s not on duty to help with dinner tonight, which had initially miffed him, but he needs to make a sleeping tonic for one of the new crew members, and John has been complaining about headaches recently that he’s hoping to absolve.

 

~

 

Rain hits the deck in fat drops.

“Can we go around the storm?” Negan calls up to the barrelman in the crows nest. Dark clouds are already creeping over the ship, making the bright afternoon seem like the dead of night.

“It’s movin’ too fast, sir! We’d hit it no ma’er what!”

“Fuck.” Negan wipes rain from his face as he turns to address the crew. “Alright, get things tied down quickly and then take your places! We’ll push through it. Little bit of rain never hurt no one!”

Carl has to resist just flopping over in the middle of the deck and starfishing under the rain. He allows himself a moment of turning his face up to the rain before heaving a sigh and glancing around to see who needs help or direction.

He runs into a dripping wet Dwight first, who looks surprised to see him. “Carl? Dear, you don’t need to be out in this. Why don’t you go help Cook?”

Carl sighs, casting his gaze out at the rain. “It’s a shame. I’d love to just lay out in it.” He looks back at Dwight, taking a silent pleasure in getting to see the man’s clothes sticking to his form. “I’ll act as you please, Master Dwight. Perhaps I can convince him to mull some of the alcohol.”

“Well, I mean…” Dwight breathes a laugh. “If you’d rather get a shower, I don’t mind that. I just thought you’d prefer to be somewhere dry.” He reaches out to pat Carl’s damp head. “Do as you like, dear, just be careful. The deck gets slippery in storms, and the crew isn’t known for grace and balance.”

Carl decides to go ahead and duck down into the galley while everyone is still rushing around the deck, prodding Cook until he agrees to warm some rum with the dried orange peels and cinnamon Carl had provided to go with dinner - much to the chef’s new assistants' shock and awe. When that’s done, Carl troops back on the deck and up to the helm where Peter is holding the ship steady.

Collapsing in front of the steering column with a pleased hum, he folds his hands behind his head and revels in the cold rainfall.

“You’re an odd one, Master Carl!” Peter says over the thud of rain on wood, laughing as he grips the wheel. “Hopefully some of the men have some of yer soap left. This is a good chance to get some of the lingerin’ smell out of ‘em.”

Carl has no illusions to the fact that he’s probably one of the best smelling people on this ship. He grins up at Peter. “Do you not enjoy a bit of downpour, Peter?”

“S’alright, I suppose,” Peter says with a snort. “It’s the waves and the lightening I’m not particular about. This storm seems to be behaving herself though.”

Carl hums, closing his eye. “Part of me thinks this ship is blessed somehow. Seems it’s made it through some sticky situations.”

“Aye, maybe so. I’ve seen stranger things,” Peter says with a shrug despite Carl not looking at him. “At least it’s a good thing for us if it is.”

“It’s certainly been a good thing for me,” Carl says lightly.

“Good to hear it then.” Peter lets the wheel go, letting it spin out a bit before catching it, riding into a wave instead of getting hit by it. “Maybe ask the captain about his blessed Lucille. He might know somethin’.”

Carl waves a dismissive hand. “If Negan wants to tell me something he will. For now I’ll just trust Lady Lucille to keep us all safe.”

“As if I’m not doing a little of that work over ‘ere,” Peter says with a playful roll of his eyes, trying to turn the wheel to get them back on course. It’s probably a lost cause for now. They’ll have to wait for the storm to pass to reorient themselves.

Carl can’t seem to stop himself from giving Peter a teasing grin, knowing the man won’t see it as anything other than friendly ribbing. “Feeling under appreciated, our fearless helmsman?”

“Who? Me? No, no! Of course not!” Peter laughs, getting the boat steady again as the rest of the crew finally get the sails closed up. They bob in the churning waves, but now don’t have fear of being blown over.

“Oh good,” Carl says lightly. “I mean what would we even do without you, darling?”

“You’d all be visiting Davey Jones, that’s what.” Leaning against the wheel, Peter looks down at Carl, smiling at how relaxed he seems to be getting rained on. Kid loves the sun and the rain. One would think he’s a house plant.

“Best that you’re with us then,” the boy says around a grin. He’s fully soaked now, down to his bones. If they weren’t in such a warm climate it wouldn’t be near as lovely, but he can’t help but bask in it.

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter rolls his eyes but smiles, taking his hat off to push his wet hair out of his face. “Hope Cook makes somethin’ good tonight. I think I deserve a good meal for all my hard work.”

“I have it on good authority that the drinks at least will be good,” Carl supplies a bit impishly.

“Oh, yeh? Well then.”

“What is goin’ on up here then?” Negan suddenly pops up from the stairwell, eyes flicking from Peter to Carl laying on the floor. “Are you okay? Gonna catch your death like that.”

“It’s warm enough, Captain. Think he’ll be fine.”

“It feels wonderful,” Carl says happily, opening his eye and blinking away some of the rain to look up at the captain. “Everyone safe and sound?”

“Yeh, sent most of the crew below deck for now,” Negan says, coming over to stand above Carl, blocking the rain from falling on him. “The storm is moving pretty fast. Think it’s just going to be choppy waves and rain for a bit. Nothing too bad.”

He looks up at Peter. “Good job on the wheel.”

“Thank ye, captain.”

“You’re blocking the downpour, love,” Carl huffs good naturedly, but there’s still a tinge of complaint in his voice.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my liege,” Negan says with a fake haughty accent, bowing before stepping around to stand by Peter.

Carl gives a playful wave and produces his poshest accent. “You are forgiven, peasant. Be grateful.”

“Oh, I’m very grateful. Thank you, oh, benevolent king.”

Peter laughs softly, looking between the two. “Anyone else talk to ye like that, they’d be in the brig, eh?”

Negan laughs and shrugs. “I know how to joke around, Peter. Please.”

“Ah, haven't you heard? I practically live there,” Carl snickers at his bad joke.

“Uh huh. Uh huh. I still think you could lock someone up in there,” Peter says. “Then they’d be locked up and have to deal with you, Master Carl.”

Negan wheezes out a laugh, slapping Peter on the back. “Now, now. Don’t make me lock you up in there.”

Carl clicks his tongue. “I’ll choose to believe that you think I’m terrifying rather than annoying Peter, just so you don’t get locked up.”

It’s a ludicrous idea but it’s all fun and games. Especially since he highly doubts Peter would ever do anything to upset Negan so much.

“Oh, yes. Very terrifying, Master Carl. I’ve seen what ye can do with those knives. Don’t want no trouble there,” Peter says, shaking his head. He adjusts the wheel a few clicks as he notices an oncoming wave before settling back upon it.

Carl snorts. “Best you stay on Negan’s good side then, I suppose.”

Negan grins at Peter, bouncing his eyebrows. Peter just snorts and shakes his head.

“Aye, sir.”

 

~

 

They’re only a little off course by the time the storm has passed and they can let the sails out again. It doesn’t take them long to find their heading again and get back on track.

Carl is still drying out his hair when he steps into the captain’s cabin now in dry clothes, a soft pair of trousers and what he’s pretty sure is Dwight’s shirt. He has only his jewelry from Dwight on, whalebone hair comb pinched between his lips as he wrings his hair with the towel.

“Well, hello there. How was your rain shower?” Negan asks, looking up from his books. His eyes slide over Carl, drinking in the sight of him looking so soft and damp. Oh, he could stare at him for days.

Carl lets the towel drop around his neck to pull the comb from his mouth, showing off his unbandaged face and his wild, damp hair. “Exactly what I, and several others on the ship, needed.”

“Good,” Negan breathes, scooting back in his chair. He reaches out for Carl, waving him closer. “C’mere. Let me comb your hair. Please?”

Carl round’s the desk, proffering the comb. He knows Negan isn’t going to be terribly rough on his hair so he doesn’t ask him to be gentle. Instead, he turns around and waits for the captain to pull him down wherever he wants.

That just happens to be between his legs. “Kneel down, pet,” Negan says, tapping Carl on the shoulder with the comb.

Carl tamps down a shiver and slides down to his knees as comfortably as he can on the wooden floor.

“Good. Thank you.” Negan smiles and begins combing at the ends of Carl’s hair, taking it in small sections as he goes. He works his way up once the bottom is free of tangles, humming a soft tune as he does his task meticulously.

Carl tries not to drift, but he can’t help but let his shoulders loosen and his eye slides shut. He enjoys Negan’s soft humming and the gentle prickle of someone handling his hair.

It takes about twenty minutes for Negan to finish combing through, but he keeps it up anyway, just enjoying the feel of pulling the comb through Carl’s hair. It’s relaxing, and he likes doing things like this for his loved ones knowing it feels good for them too.

He eventually sections Carl’s hair into three chunks before he puts the comb down. Carefully, but with skill, he braids them together, tying the ends together with a ribbon he plucks from his desk. It previously held a map together, but Negan thinks it looks much better in Carl’s hair.

With fingers and comb spokes stroking through his hair it isn’t surprising that his brain gets all fuzzy. Between the soft light in the room and his sluggishness from Negan’s hands on him he’s surprised he hasn’t just slumped over yet. Then again, he would much prefer to clamber up in Negan’s lap and tuck his face in the captain’s neck.

“I’m all done, my love,” Negan whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of Carl’s head. He keeps his hands on Carl’s shoulders to stabilize him, seeing the way he’s wavering. “Would you like help getting up?”

Carl’s knees ache and his head is cloudy so he just mumbles a soft, “Yes,” and lifts his hands a little hoping that Negan will either offer him some stability or just pull him up into his lap where Carl doesn’t have to think.

Negan reaches to take Carl’s hands, half acting as an anchor and half pulling Carl up to his feet. “C’mere, pet.” Tugging Carl gently into his lap, Negan eases him sideways so he can slide an arm around his back and tuck him into it.

Carl could practically purr, tucking his nose against the warm skin of Negan’s throat. He thinks he might never get used to that name, it might always pull a reaction from him even if that reaction is a pleased sigh as he curls his fingers in the captain’s shirt.

“Oh, how good you are,” Negan breathes with a smile, squeezing Carl softly. “So sweet for me.“ He sighs and closes his eyes, basking in the weight and warmth of Carl on him.

Carl processes what Negan says as if he’s rolling his brain through molasses but he smiles against the man’s throat when he does. He is good, he’s so good.

The door to his cabin opens a long moment later, Dwight coming in and immediately spotting the two. He closes the door softly. “Shall I leave?”

“No, love. Stay,” Negan says, tracing random shapes along Carl’s arm with his fingers.

Dwight nods and steps over to press a kiss to Carl’s head and then to Negan’s lips.

“Hello,” Carl mumbles when Dwight’s lips press against his head. He means something like he’s happy Dwight is here, or he missed the man, but hello is all he can manage right now so it will have to do.

“Hello, lad. Don’t get up on my account,” Dwight says with a soft laugh, knowing Carl is basically asleep without being asleep right now. “I like this braid. Your work?” He nods towards Negan, making his way back around the desk to his own chair.

“Yeah. I combed out his wet hair and couldn’t resist,” Negan says, shrugging the opposite shoulder that Carl is on. “Wish I had some beads to braid into it.”

“Mm. Something gold. He’d like that.”

“Yeah. I think he would.”

Carl lifts a hand, playing with the tail end of the braid and eyeing the way Dwight’s two rings look next to his hair. “Pretty.”

“Very pretty, pet. Yeah.” Negan says with a smile, watching Carl for a moment. He looks back to Dwight and finds him scooted forward to lean his elbows on the desk.

“These are the rings you got him, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dwight says with a nod, smiling with the knowledge that Carl is only wearing the jewelry he got him.

“Good pick.”

“Thank you.”

Carl plays with the rings on his fingers trying to think about all the other jewelry he’s collected and what pieces will go with them. He has a lot of silver jewelry but if they don’t find anything special at their final stop he might hand some of it out to the crew like he promised with Peter. Most of his jewelry is silver actually, opposed to all the fabrics he usually grabs, but silver is easier to find because most of it is fake.

“Why gold?” he asks after a moment.

“Hm?” Dwight cocks his head at the question, shrugging. “I dunno. I think I just associate it with you.” He lifts his hand to show Carl’s golden cravat still tied around his wrist. He smiles and presses it to his cheek.

“I think gold matches your coloring more,” Negan says, running light fingers down Carl’s hair and face. “It goes good with your hair.”

Carl hums, deciding that those are both very good answers. Dwight would look very pretty in bronze or copper. He should keep his eyes out for something of the sort. Negan… well Negan looks best in black.

He turns his face back to tuck it into Negan’s neck, practically boneless in the captain’s lap. He just has to keep himself awake until dinner and then he can drift away.

The pirates fall into quiet conversation, Dwight eventually taking over writing Negan's bookwork that he was doing while Negan dictates. Once it's done, Dwight closes everything up and clears off the desk. "I'll go get dinner," he says.

"Thanks, love." Negan watches him go with a smile, gently squeezing Carl in his arms.

"You hungry, dear? Dwight's gonna get us some grub."

Carl could eat, he could definitely eat. He spares a thought to wonder if the new kitchen assistant is as good as he was before coming back around to answer. With a nod, Carl says softly, “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. You can stay right here if you want. Don’t gotta move at all,” Negan says, rubbing his chin gently against Carl’s temple, scratching him lightly with his short beard.

Carl giggles, shoving his fingers against Negan’s sternum in reprimand. “Alright.”

Negan laughs softly and looks down at the boy in his arms, running his big hand up and down Carl’s thigh. “You’re so cute when you get like this. So soft and quiet. Where do you go? What’s going on in your brain?”

Carl should probably be offended but he’s too focused on how nice Negan’s hand feels rubbing up his thigh through his thin trousers. “Nowhere, nothing.”

“Mm. Interesting.” Negan keeps up his petting until Dwight pushes back into the room, tray in his hands. “Ah, heads up. Food’s here.”

Carl is probably more excited to see Dwight right now than the food, but he lets go of Negan’s shirt anyway in preparation to be moved around as the captain sees fit so that they can eat comfortably.

Dwight sets the food down as Negan shifts Carl slightly. “You want your own bowl, or you want me to feed ya?” he asks, watching Dwight come around the desk with a bowl on his hands and a question in his face.

Oh… Well Carl likes that idea very much but it seems sort of childish. The mistiness of his thoughts is no help to the indecisiveness that must be showing on his face. He hums unhelpfully wishing the decision would just be made for him.

Negan and Dwight pause long enough to realize Carl isn’t going to answer before Dwight moves forward. “Here, dear. How about you hold the bowl for Negan and he can operate the spoon. You two can share.” Dwight takes Carl’s hands and sets the bowl within them, only letting go once he’s sure Carl has a grip on it.

That seems like as good an idea as any. Carl cradles the bowl against his chest, the warmth of the food inside seeping into his skin nicely. Negan will take first bite, Carl knows, because he’s the captain and Carl and Dwight almost always wait to see him take the first bite before they dig in.

“The ale is also warmed and spiced,” Dwight says as he makes his way to his chair. “Reminds me of Christmas.”

“I know,” Carl says softly. I asked doesn’t come out.

“That so? Sounds good.” Negan stirs the chunks of meat and carrots and potatoes around in the bowl before scooping up a bit of all three and taking a bite. “Mm. That hits the spot.” He scoops up a bite for Carl while he chews, holding it to Carl’s lips.

Carl opens up, accepting the bite carefully as not to spill. It’s as good as anything Cook has made, but he can feel in his mouth that the vegetables aren’t cut to the uniform perfection he always gives them. It doesn’t really matter, just something he notices as he pushes the food to the unscarred side of his face to chew. “Good.”

Negan smiles and nods, taking another bite before offering one to Carl. Dwight watches them while he eats his own, sipping at his ale every so often.

"Seems the new kitchen boy is fitting in well," Dwight says softly. "Though, I'm sure Cook misses you, dear."

The new kitchen helper probably fits in better than Carl ever did. And yet, even now that he’s not doing the jobs he was doing before it feels like he’s busy all the time. Part of him thinks he gets asked as many questions as Dwight does these days.

“Maybe,” Carl acquiesces once he finishes chewing his bite. It’s not like he’s been gone for anyone to miss after all.

Dwight hums and shrugs. Knowing he's not going to get much conversation out of Carl, he turns back to Negan and they fall into easy talking while they eat.

When Negan finishes the one bowl, he trades it for the other, continuing to share bites back and forth with Carl until it's all gone. He then replaces the bowl in Carl's hands with a warm mug, encouraging him to drink.

Pleasantly fed, Carl sips on his lukewarm spiced rum listening idly to his two pirate’s voices. Resting his head against Negan’s chest, he hums a near silent tune as the captain’s voice rumbles into his ear.

As the night grows long and the candles burn down, Dwight eventually collects the dishes and carts them away to the galley. While he's gone, Negan collects Carl up in his arms and moves him to the bed.

"Where do you wanna be, honey-love? Middle? Edge?" Negan asks quietly as he pulls off Carl's boots and weapon belt. He tucks the sheathed dagger beneath his pillow the way he always sees Carl do it.

Carl yawns, feeling way too light. It shouldn’t be so easy for Negan to move him around like this. Still, it’s not like he minds much, especially like this. “Don’t care,” he answers, rolling his ankles and curling his toes now that he’s not wearing his boots.

"Alright." Negan kisses Carl's forehead. "Let me get undressed now, you just relax." Negan moves back to start taking off his own boots and his outer clothes, looking up as Dwight enters into the room. They smile at each other, Dwight coming over to kiss Negan warmly before getting ready for bed as well.

Carl watches them, already half drifting off to sleep. Sometimes it’s just terribly nice to exist in the same space as these two men, and it’s still surprising they let him at times. He closes his eye figuring he won’t fall asleep yet but knowing if he does they can move him around as they see fit.

Privately, Carl doesn’t think he’s ever been so comfortable in any other place with any other people. But he’s once again far too tired to dwell on that at the moment.

Dwight finds his way into the bed, climbing over Carl to ease in next to the wall. He buries himself beneath the blanket before curling in close to Carl and pressing a kiss to his cheek as Negan snuffs out the candles. Soon, the captain crawls into bed along the edge, throwing an arm over Carl so he can touch Dwight too as he sighs and closes his eyes.

"Good night, my loves."

"Good night, dears."

Carl is barely awake enough to slur, “G’night.” Basking in the warmth all around him, he falls asleep quickly.

Chapter 33

Summary:

My heart is pierced by Cupid.
I disdain all glittering gold.
There is nothing can console me.
But my jolly sailor bold.

Notes:

R: Ready for some action? 👀

 

He wakes early, refreshed almost, and squirms out from between the two men not wanting to wake them. His hair is still in the braid from the night before and when he pulls the ribbon free its left wavy and shiny and untangled. He can’t help but smile a little about it as he collects his boots and grabs his dagger from the bed to start putting everything back on.

He leaves his snoozing partners to go to the galley, eyeing the deck were everything is tied down. There’s a sheen of wetness and the sky is a pale blue-grey, but he can’t smell any incoming rain. He decides not to have anyone untie anything yet, he’ll defer to Dwight for the decision.

Cook seems pleased enough to see him and put him to work, his assistant still asleep due to the early hour.

 

~

 

“He’s left us,” Negan mumbles about an hour later when he wakes, Dwight under his arm instead of Carl.

“Oh, hush. You know he likes to get up much earlier than us. He probably went to the kitchen.”

Negan grunts, burying his nose into Dwight’s hair and squeezing him close.

 

~

 

Carl is unsurprised to find the two still curled together in bed when he totes in their servings of oatmeal - Negan’s done up much sweeter than his or Dwight’s - and rashers. He moves to the desk, hoping the smell will push the two to waking up, and begins to dish everything out to the correct spots.

“Look at that. He’s here. And with breakfast,” Dwight murmurs against the hollow of Negan’s throat.

Negan grunts again and tilts his head back to sniff the fragrant air, also giving Dwight room to drop kisses in along his neck. “Mm.”

Dwight blinks open his eyes to look at Carl, waving at him from where he’s still tucked into Negan. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning,” Carl responds, smiling warmly at the two. “Are you going to join me or do I need to bring your portions to the bed?”

“Breakfast in bed doesn’t sound so bad,” Negan mumbles, but Dwight is already pushing away and sitting up. Negan whines, but lets him go with a huff.

“We will join you, lad. Won’t we, Negan?” Dwight gives Negan a shake to his shoulder, making the captain grumble.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Carl smothers a laugh with his hand and takes a seat, reaching out for his bowl. He cradles it in his hands but doesn’t eat yet, waiting for the other two to join him. “Arat seems positive we’re over halfway to our destination, I saw her when I stopped by the brig to rewrap my face and grab some of my other gold jewelry.”

Negan half sits up, half gets pushed up by Dwight, and scratches sleepily at his beard. “He rewrapped his face,” he whines to Dwight.

Negan well knows Carl isn’t going to walk around all day with his socket open to the elements. God forbid the sea water gets in somewhere it hasn’t healed all the way or some other equally awful thing.

“Yes, yes. I know. C’mon, ya big lug.” Dwight gets Negan to his feet and then into his chair, handing him his bowl before taking his own seat and breakfast with a sigh.

He looks to Carl and raises his eyebrows, cocking his head towards Negan. “Like a big toddler.”

“Oh worse,” Carl commiserates. “Judith was much easier than he is.”

Dwight snickers, watching as Negan takes a bite of his oatmeal with a pout on his face. It’s not doing much to dispel the toddler allegations, but it does look cute on Negan’s gruff face.

“Judith… is your sister?” Dwight asks, taking a bite of his own breakfast with a hum.

“Yes,” Carl answers easily, lifting a rasher to take a bite. He sees no reason to lie to the two of them, they know who he is after all.

“Help take care of her a lot, did ya? My family had me watchin’ over my baby cousins at one point ‘cause I was the oldest,” Dwight says.

“The housekeeper and I watched her most of the time,” Carl confirms. Either way his mother and father both having jobs that was just the easiest way until Judith could get old enough to attend his mother’s lessons.

“Mm, I see.” Dwight nods, biting into a rasher of his own. “Well, I’m sure she’ll grow up just fine having had you looking out for her. Bet you taught her loads of good stuff.”

Carl snorts. “I taught her to bite if a stranger grabs her and all the best hiding spots in Alexandria. Not exactly parent of the year lessons.”

Negan laughs softly at that, halfway done with his oatmeal.

“Well, I mean. Those are good things to know,” Dwight says with a smile. “She won’t have anyone mess with her, that’s for sure.”

“No one would dare,” Carl says sternly, gathering one of his last few bites on his spoon.

“Yes, well. Good then.” Dwight takes another bite, licking his spoon clean a moment. “So, we’re about to this mystery island, eh?” he asks, changing the subject.

“According to Arat, if the island even exists we should be there in a few days,” Carl says, done with his oatmeal he picks up the rasher he had saved for last.

“And if it doesn’t exist, we’ll just be floating in the middle of the ocean, I imagine,” Dwight says with a chuckle, setting his bowl aside.

“So nothing out of the usual,” Carl comments lightly, stacking his bowl on the tray.

“Yes, but then we’ll be without a clue of where to go,” Negan says with a sigh, adding his bowl to the stack. “So, how’s about a little more belief in this island, eh? For my sake.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Dwight says with a chuckle and a poor excuse for a salute.

Carl rolls his eye, standing to lift the tray into his arms with a light smile towards Dwight. “Oh honestly. Of course we know where to go if the island isn’t there. Greece.”

He steps neatly around his chair, tray propped on his hip as he makes his way to the door. “I mean just think of the food!”

“Mm, spanakopita,” Dwight says with a far away and hungry look in his eyes.

“Oh, and baklava!” Negan says with a grin. “Even if… when we find the island, afterwards we should still visit Greece.”

Carl huffs a laugh as he sweeps out of the room, intent to drop their dishes and start his rounds.

~

 

Carl is standing at the helm when he hears it, trying to teach Peter how he flips his knife through his fingers with a kitchen spoon. It’s Judith’s voice calling out to him, soft and sweet and singing. He looks around for her, his own dagger pausing in his hand.

The kitchen spoon drops with a clatter as Peter looks up as well, confusion scrunching his features. “Delilah…?”

One by one, crewmen stop where they are along the deck, craning their heads around as the voices roll in on a soft mist.

Carl’s brows crinkle in confusion. The fog in his brain isn’t the nice floaty kind he gets around Negan and Dwight sometimes, it’s suffocating like black smoke. He reasons that Judith couldn’t possibly be calling out to him, especially with it sounding too smooth to really be hers.

As the thought passes he hears Negan’s voice. His singing voice is more familiar, more comforting. But again, there’s no reason Negan would be signing right now. Carl clutches his head.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid… I disdain all glittering gold…”

From somewhere below there’s a cry. “Don’t listen to it! Cover your ears!” a desperate sailor shouts, shaking his stunned mates. “It’s not real!”

“My Delilah. She’s here…?” Peter murmurs beside Carl, letting go of the wheel.

The captain’s cabin door suddenly bursts open, Negan stepping out looking haunted yet desperate. Tear tracks run down his face as he looks around, frantically trying to find the source of the voice in his head. “Lucille?”

“There is nothing can console me… But my jolly sailor bold…”

The appearance of the man supposedly singing snaps Carl from his stupor, and he looks around. He curses when he realizes what is happening, eyes catching on Laura who seems to be bodily holding Arat back from leaping overboard.

Aside from himself, it seems like Laura and whoever shouted are the only ones not being lured by the song.

“Knock her out!” he snaps, launching himself towards Peter and dragging him back by the coat. He slams the butt of his knife against the man’s temple hard enough that he knows the outline of his family crest might bruise into his friend’s skin. Laura, albeit with more hesitation and struggle, follows his lead slamming Arat’s head against the banister.

He’ll have to check them both for concussion later, but for now they need to stop the others. “Help me grasp ropes. We’ll tie who we can and knock out who we can’t.”

"Got it!" Laura springs into action to follow Carl's commands, knocking people down on purpose as she runs to grab rope. She's quick to run back, leashing people around the chests and pulling them back towards a mast, but isn't quite fast enough to prevent one man from stepping over the edge. He screams as he plummets into the sea below, a violent thrashing echoing back. "What is this?!" Laura yells, pulling on the rope with all her strength and tying it off.

Carl slams his shoulder into Negan, knocking the captain back in his room knowing none of the windows open within the captain’s cabin. He hopes, as he ties the door shut, that the captain isn’t desperate enough or smart enough to break a window.

According to legend and myth the most likely answer is… “Mermaids? Sirens?”

It doesn’t matter right now, he sprints across the deck, catching Enzo by the back of the shirt and yanking before he can throw himself off the ship, kicking off against the bannister and throwing them both to the ground. He doesn’t have time to tie the man when he sees one of their newer men making way to the other side of the ship. He slams his knife through Enzo’s shirt as deep in the floor as he can with a silent apology to Lucille and takes off again.

Meanwhile, Negan is pounding on the cabin door, trying to break out, while the chaos on deck is happening. The voices in his head change from Lucille to Dwight to Carl, all singing the same entrancing song, and all trying to pull him into the sea.

Logically, he knows it’s not right. Lucille is dead, and Carl just shoved him in here, but… But the call is so strong. The fog in his head so thick.

From below deck, Dwight appears, holding his head in agony as he looks around frantically. Spotting Carl, he shouts, “We’re sitting in dead water! Open… Open the sails… We need to… to move…” He groans, eyes clenching shut as he fights against the voices in his head. With a gasp, he looks out towards the port side and begins walking towards it.

“Fuck!” Carl pants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He clocks another man’s head against the railing, shoving him towards the mast as he sprints once again across the deck. He reasons that concussed is better than dead, knowing that when they all get out of this he’s going to be spending his night waking up all the people they’ve knocked out and asking them benign questions.

On his way towards Dwight, he looses a throwing knife, slinging it at the pulley rope holding the mainsail up. He’ll fix it later.

“Laura! Make sure no one is trying to crawl out portholes!” he shouts, slipping past the hatch Dwight just came out of on his way to grab the first mate. He pulls the belt that he usually keeps slung around his chest off, the pouch he keeps emergency medical pieces in skittering across the deck as he tackles the blond, attempting to hold him down long enough to belt his ankles together.

Dwight falls with an, “Oof!” still trying to claw his way towards the railing with his hands.

There’s a shout from Laura as she pulls another person back from the edge. She stabs her sword downward off the side of the boat, the yowl of an injured animal echoing through the night. There’s a ripple among the crew, like they all come to for a breath, before they’re back to their entranced states.

“I thought mermaids were supposed to be pretty?!” Laura yells, tying off a few more people to another mast before heading back to the edge, sword at the ready.

The sound of claws scratching at wood reverberates through the mist, the singing getting closer as the monsters do.

“Yes, well, they’re-” Carl cuts himself off, dragging Dwight across the deck by his ankles to secure him to one of the rope hooks. “We’ll talk about it later!”

With everyone on deck now secured or knocked out, Carl rushes over to one of the on deck cannons. Angling it over the edge, he finally looks over the side of the boat.

Women as white as seafoam claw against the hull, digging their claws into Lucille. Wild eyed and covered in steely scales and watery membrane. He can understand how at one point these creatures might have been beautiful - angular faces, porcelain skin, luminescent eyes. Currently they’re hissing and growling at him though, rows of teeth gnashing in his direction as he loads the cannon and draws his flint from one of his remaining belt pouches. He’s not as practiced at lighting something with a throwing knife, but his dagger is pinning Enzo to the deck, so he makes it work.

Bang!

The creatures screech, breaking into a horrible frenzy. Four of them pounce on the bloody corpses of the two he hit, and he’s not sure if they’re going to eat them or are trying to get them back in the water.

Laura yells as she races up and down her side of the boat, stabbing the sirens in the face and popping them off like screaming barnacles. From below deck, the lower cannons start to fire as the sirens crawl over the portholes, blowing them away.

"That must be John! I watched him go below!" Laura says, hearing a cannon on Carl's side go off. John must be running back and forth, lighting every cannon he can. Even so, more and more sirens slip out of the water and onto the hull of the boat, making Laura groan. "There's too many!"

Fire.

This whole thing has been about fire so far. These are water creatures, so they must be affected by fire. They have linseed oil, Carl knows because they use it to finish some of the parts of the ship when they need to fix things and they use it to sharpen blades. It’s also so dangerous that it’s kept in glass or metal jugs out on deck where it can be easily thrown off-ship if it combusts.

Abandoning his place for a moment, Carl goes careening up the deck towards the bow. He doesn’t bother to be worried about using up resources right now, they can restock this easy enough, he’s more worried that the risk he’s going to take might harm The Lucille if the sirens don’t scatter into the water to put themselves out.

He shoves one of the jugs in Laura’s arms, shouting over his shoulder as he hustles back to his side of the ship. “Put that on them and wait for my signal to light it!”

"Got it!"

Running down the side, Laura drips the oil onto the gnashing faces of the monsters, stabbing any who are too close to the top for comfort. She chucks the empty jug at one once she's out and looks back to Carl.

Carl bashes his empty jug into the face of a creature that’s gotten too close, sending her toppling into the water. Pulling his throwing knife again, he sets it against the start of his flint, breathing heavily.

“One! Two! Now!” he shouts, striking his flint.

He doesn’t know if the creatures are inherently flammable or if the linseed oil was more flammable than he thought, but the fire that streams across the sirens’ marble skin is brilliant. It starts with one and their flailing only has it spreading.

It's the same on Laura's side as her flint sparks, flames spreading in seconds. It's not long before the once beautiful singing is entirely replaced by the screams of the sirens, shrill and ear piercing. Those of the crew that are still conscious cover their ears as they're ripped from their fantasy fog.

As the sirens begin to fall, it's noticeable how much lighter the boat starts to get, like it's being lifted from the very sea by the hand of God. The sails flutter, trying to catch the breeze.

Carl nearly collapses against the side of the ship, glaring down at the sea for a long moment until he’s sure that the creatures are gone. He knows that soon all of the men they haven’t knocked out will buck off the fog imposed on them, and he’ll handle that when he gets there.

For now, he stumbles over to Laura, reaching out and dragging the woman into his arms. Touch like this is unusual for him outside of Negan or Dwight, he never hugged anyone but his sister before this ship, but he thinks they both need it.

“You did wonderful,” Carl tells her, squeezing her to him, “and I thank you ardently.”

"Fucking hell," Laura pants, gripping onto Carl with shaking hands. "That was insane. What was that? What were those? Why weren't we affected? Are the others okay?" Questions keep spilling from Laura's lips as her mind races to try and come to terms with everything that just happened, leaning into Carl for support.

Carl holds the woman up, reaching up to squeeze the back of her neck comfortingly. “Some derivative of sirens or mermaids, I believe. Did you hear any voices at all before you grabbed Arat?”

"I... I heard... Arat singing," Laura says with a frown. "But it didn't make sense. Arat doesn't sing, and she was standing next to me. It wasn't right."

“There’s a lot of myths out there about mermaids and sirens and their singing,” Carl says, pulling back from the hug to squeeze her arms and stabilize her on her feet. “My going theory is that they sing in the voices of those we love to lure us to our deaths, and that’s why you and I and John were able to break out of it.”

"But... why did we break it and not anyone else?" Laura asks, looking over at all the men groaning where they're still tied against the masts. John is popping out from below the deck, breathing heavy and looking exhausted. She looks back to Carl and frowns. "I don't understand it."

Carl hopes he isn’t going around spreading secrets when he says softly, “It might be because the only people we love are on board.”

He shrugs glancing at Carson, tied up with some of the others who he knows was calling out for his dead wife. “Or because our logical thinking overruled whatever power the siren's voices had.”

"Weird," Laura breathes, a light blush on her cheeks as she looks over at Arat. She pulls gently away from Carl to go to Arat, checking her over and making sure she's not bleeding anywhere.

"Christ, wot the fuck was all that then?" John asks as he steps up to Carl, rubbing at his head and looking around like he's afraid another mermaid is going to jump out of nowhere.

“Best not to think about it.” Carl pats John’s arm gently.

He looks around at the chaos of the deck. “Do me a favor and untie everyone? They can help gather everyone we knocked out so I can check them over. I have to go let Enzo up and let Negan out.”

John catches Carl's shoulder before he can walk too far. "He's a'right? Enzo? I saw a couple men from below hit the water, but I... I didn't see who it was."

A little bit of recognition drifts through Carl and he hooks his thumb over to where Enzo is pinned to the deck by his shirts. “I’d let you get him but I don’t think you’ll have better luck with my dagger than him.”

John sighs once he lays eyes on Enzo, shoulders falling in relief. "Tha's a'right. Just wanted to know he's safe. Thank you, Master Carl." He gives Carl a squeeze before moving off to untie the men from the mast.

Carl steps over to Enzo first, leaning down to pluck his dagger from the deck, with an easy twist and pull. He slides it into its sheath before offering his hand to Enzo. “You alright?”

"As much I can be..." Enzo groans as he takes Carl's hand and sits up, rubbing at his head. "Splitting headache. I thought... ah, I thought I hear my sister..."

“Yeah, me too for a minute,” Carl confesses looking around the deck as the man gets to his feet. “I’ll put together a bunch of headache tonic in a bit. Help John, alright? I need to go let Negan free.”

The boy makes his way over to the captain’s cabin, grimacing guiltily as he passes Dwight who is carefully unbuckling himself from Carl’s belt. When he gets there he finds the blade of Negan’s sword pushed through the gap in the doors uselessly hacking at the ropes. They’re too damaged to try and save so Carl pulls his dagger and slices the rope.

He pushes the doors open, gaze near Negan’s feet. “Sorry about that.”

Carl's barely finished his sentence before he finds himself engulfed in a tight hug, Negan clutching onto him tightly. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You're okay. Fuck. You're okay."

Carl lets out an urk of shock, lifting his arms to squeeze the man just as tightly. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Laura, John, and I chased them off.”

"Chased what off?!" Negan pulls back just enough to look at Carl's face before shaking his head. "Nevermind that, where's Dwight? Is he okay?" Negan doesn't let go of Carl as he steps out onto the deck, looking over his recovering crew for his first mate.

"I'm here! I'm okay!" Dwight's suddenly in Negan's arms, grabbing onto both him and Carl.

"Thank God."

"Carl saved me. Saved a lot of us," Dwight says with a sigh.

“They were whatever derivative of mermaids or sirens you want to go with,” Carl answers anyway, tilting his head against Dwight’s shoulder for a moment.

“By my count we lost three, but I won’t know for sure until I do a headcount,” he says and then heaves a sigh, pulling back to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Which I need to do, and then I need to make another batch of headache tonic, and we should probably have the crew eat on deck tonight to make sure everyone is alright.”

Negan and Dwight nod in agreement, both reaching out to cup opposite sides of Carl’s face.

“Are you alright?” Dwight asks.

“Of course,” Carl assures them, reaching up to squeeze their wrists comfortingly, “I mean it’s not as if I got lured like the rest of you.”

Negan and Dwight have a bit of a skeptical look on their faces, but they can’t deny Carl’s words. They nod and let him go.

“Okay. Let’s go then.”

“I locked Cook in the pantry before I came up, so I’ll head down there for now and send everyone I find up,” Dwight says, giving kisses to Negan and then to Carl before heading off.

“Tell him to set me up the big soup pot on the stove,” Carl says, catching Dwight’s arm. “My little burner and cauldron aren’t big enough to make headache tonics for the whole crew.”

Realizing how much of an order that sounds, Carl tacks on a soft 'please' before letting the man go. He looks up at Negan after, grimacing a little. “I’ll have to check up on everyone we knocked out through the night in case we did any serious damage, you may not want me in your quarters tonight, love.”

Negan reaches out to pull Carl into another hug, pressing his lips to Carl’s hair. “Don’t think anyone’s gonna get much sleep tonight anyway. You come on back to the cabin whenever you can, okay?” He pulls back and looks into Carl’s eye. “Thank you, Carl. Who else did you say helped? Laura and John? Have them come see me once your headcount is done.”

“If I can pull them away from Enzo and Arat,” Carl assures the man, faux lightly, patting him on the chest. “And you don’t have to thank me, I figured you would know that by now.”

“I know, but I still like to,” Negan says with a smile. “C’mon now. Let’s get this ship back to shape.”

“Ah,” Carl winces. “I might be responsible for some of the damage.”

“A little damage is worth the lives you saved.”

Carl begins walking towards the deck once more, eyeing how all the knocked out men have been carefully laid side by side including Arat who has her head cradled in Laura’s lap. The others are standing in wait, some clutching their heads still and most with fear or confusion writ on their faces. Carl does a mental count hoping that more than just Cook come up from below deck.

Negan leaves the people to Carl after they do a quick walk around and check in with everyone. The captain instead starts looking to his ship, noticing the broken pulley rope on the mainsail and a few scorch marks along the hull. He sighs and rests a heavy hand down on the rail.

“Lucille, thank you,” he murmurs, looking out over the dark sea.

Dwight reappears with Cook and the rest of the crew in tow a moment later. John had knocked a few of them out, but many had been locked in the galley or too big to fit out of portholes.

Carl sighs in relief that his initial count was correct. “Only three.”

Still, that means they’ve lost three men, which cannot be good for morale or even his own conscience. If he had just reacted faster…

“Okay,” he claps his hands together. “I’d like everyone on as light of duty as possible but as always please get your tasks from Master Dwight. I should have headache tonics for everyone within the hour but anyone who feels they might be physically ill from the pain please go to Carson as he knows where I keep the premade ones.”

He counts out in his head, turning to Cook. “Can we make something hearty but easy on the stomach in short time? A thinner stew or a meaty porridge?”

“Aye, can handle that, Master Carl,” Cook says with a nod. “Also got the big pot ready for ya. What the hell happened up here?”

Carl sighs, eyeing the unconscious. None of them seem to have any bleeding, and they’re all breathing evenly. “Some derivative of mermaids or sirens is my best estimate. I wouldn’t think about it too hard.”

He steps away, toward the brig. “I’m going to grab what I need, and I’ll meet you in the galley. Carson, come with me.”

Carson, still massaging his fingers against his temples, comes to his side looking wan. “Yes, Master Carlton.”

Cook gives a salute before heading back to the kitchen to start up dinner as Carl has requested, mumbling about mermaids all the while.

Carl collects what supplies he needs for a large batch of headache tonic, shoves one of the ones he has down Carson’s throat, and leaves the man with explicit instructions to assist anyone at his own discretion and keep track of anyone who should get a tonic first.

He immediately moves to the pot as soon as he gets into the galley glancing at Cook as he sets everything out. “I’ll help where you need it since I’m here, just let me know.”

“You just focus on the tonic for now, bambino. I’m makin’ a simple enough meal,” Cook says, giving Carl a smile. “I’m not exactly sure what happened up there, but thanks for helping save us all. I thanked Master Dwight earlier. If he hadn’t of locked us in, ‘m not sure where we woulda been right now.”

“Yes, well, perhaps he should have locked himself in along with you all,” Carl says, voice light and teasing but shoulders tense. “No matter, we’re all safe for now and you don’t have to go around making it sound so heroic,” Carl comments, cultivating the fire under the pot.

“If you don’t want me to, I won't, but I’ll thank ye all the same,” Cook says, reaching out to pull Carl into a one arm hug. “Now, focus on yer tonic and I’ll focus on dinner. Let’s get this crew back in business!”

Carl ends up having to pour servings of his tonics into their usual mugs for dinner but he manages to get Cook to spare a measure of gin for each to even it out. With that they’re ready to be served with each serving of food which should also help with the lasting symptoms.

“I imagine everyone will be waiting on us, no?” he asks, glancing at the dinner bell and wincing at the idea of such a loud noise. “I’ll go call everyone down to get their servings.”

“Sounds good,” Cook says with a nod, ready to dish out the food and tonic to the ailing crew.

Carl troops up to deck. “Everyone come grab dinner and drinks, we’ll be gathering together on deck to eat tonight, so please make sure everyone knows.”

With that said, he makes his way back downstairs. He, Dwight, and Negan have their tray as normal but he plans to at least make sure everyone gets their food before taking it up to join the two men.

The crew files in in an orderly fashion. A strange sight from a normally pretty rowdy bunch, but everyone seems too tired for any revelry. They all take their portions with thanks and head back up to the deck, sitting together in lines or huddles as they eat and talk softly to each other.

Even Negan and Dwight are out on the deck, sitting on the floor and leaning against the cabin doors together.

Carl brings up their servings, half an eye on the crew glad to see everyone awake now. Peter does have a nasty bruise in the shape of the Grimes family crest, and Arat has an upsetting knot on her forehead from being bashed against the bannister though.

He comes to sit on the ground with his two pirates, setting the tray in their small circle. “I just want to be around to make sure I’m here if anyone gets sick to be honest, but I figured everyone being together after such a scare would be a good idea.”

“It is a good idea,” Dwight says with a nod. He’s pressed against Negan’s side like they’re afraid they’ll lose each other if they aren’t touching. “Thank you for taking care of everyone. I’m sure they all appreciate it.”

Negan nods in agreement, reaching out a hand to touch Carl’s shoulder, like he’s making sure he’s real.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be sick of me by the end of the night,” Carl says lightly.

“Perhaps, but they’ll still appreciate it.”

Carl lifts his mug to sip his own gin and tonic. “I keep thinking about a story that Hershel told me when I got shot. It’s all so strange.”

“What story, love?” Negan asks, taking a bite of his warm food and humming.

“According to Hershel, mermaids were the first navigators. They taught sailors how to get to places using the stars but the sailors took advantage of them,” Carl explains, trading out his mug for his bowl. “They captured them, used them as maps aboard their ships, and well, they even had their way with the beautiful maidens of the sea.” Carl taps the side of his bowl. “From such acts came the sirens, birthed to protect their mothers. Angry man eaters with their mother’s sweet voices.”

Not exactly a happy story to tell a child but Hershel had more been trying to make sure Carl didn’t have any childish designs on his young daughter. The thought almost makes Carl laugh now. “If you saw them you would understand why I was thinking of it I think.”

Dwight and Negan are quiet for a moment, chewing over their food and the story before Negan looks up at Carl. “What did they look like?”

Carl recalls for a moment, really he hadn’t looked hard before setting them ablaze, more focused on everything else, but they would be hard to forget.

“Striking, beautiful, and horrifying,” are the descriptors he decides on. “It looked as if they were carved from marble, covered in hard scales with luminescent eyes and shark-like teeth.” Negan and Dwight shiver from the description alone.

Carl finishes off a bite of his food. “But behind all that, it was easy to see that they came from maidens of the sea. I imagine that if I were attracted to women I would have perhaps had a harder time.”

“Interesting,” Dwight says over the rim of his mug, sipping at his drink. He has a far away look in his eye as he thinks over the fogged memories of the night. “I didn’t… I didn’t get close enough to the edge to see one, but, God… I was so sure I’d heard Sherry’s voice.” He points to Negan and then Carl. “And yours, and yours. They were beautiful, but… haunting.”

Carl swallows, stirring his food around in his bowl. “Yes, my going theory is that they sing in the voices of those we care about, and that’s why Laura, John, and I were able to shake it off.”

Dwight and Negan look a little taken back as those words settle, feeling their warm dinner turn cold in their bellies.

“What… What do you mean? It sounds like you’re saying you don’t care about…” Negan’s jaw clamps shut before he can finish, looking away. Had they gotten it all wrong with Carl?

Carl keeps his eyes on his bowl. “Negan, everyone we love is on this ship. I knew where everyone was, Laura had to knock Arat out herself, I’m not entirely sure how John managed.”

The knots of worry in Dwight and Negan’s bellies unwind, realization dawning. “Oh…” They smile softly at Carl.

Feeling embarrassed, Carl scoops up his mug as well. “It’s just a working theory based on what knowledge I have.”

“Whereas I heard someone who is back on land, and I’m sure you heard…” Dwight gently rests a hand upon Negan’s shoulder as he nods.

“Yeah. I heard her.” Negan sighs. “It was beautiful and haunting like you said. I’m so… To think that I got to hear her voice again, but it wasn’t even her. Just some creature imitating her. It’s…” He has to press the heels of his hands to his eyes to stop the tears from falling.

“I know, love. I know.” Dwight frowns, rubbing his hand soothingly along Negan’s back.

Carl opens his mouth to mention that Judith was first before abruptly snapping it shut as Negan covers his face. He puts his things aside and crawls around the tray to Negan’s other side.

Reaching out carefully, Carl takes the back of the man’s neck in hand giving him a squeeze. He doesn’t know who Negan has lost, who he has heard the voice of once again, but it’s clear it was someone he loved dearly and Carl can’t help but spare a thought for Carson who he knows heard his long dead wife.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he whispers, leaning up to press his forehead against Negan’s hair.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Negan whispers, but he doesn’t drop his hands until he can feel Dwight press against his other side. He sniffs back the tears and wraps his arms around his two lovers, holding them close.

Around the ship, the soft sound of muffled sobs can be heard, everyone coming to terms with what has happened. Memories of lost ones resurfaced, and exhaustion making even the strongest constitution weak to emotion. Melancholy is like a blanket covering the whole ship as the crew attempts to comfort each other in this trying time.

“It’s going to be okay,” Carl says, unaware of how his voice carries like this. “I know it hurts, but I promise you so long as you live you will heal and it will be okay.”

It’s easy to believe that his words aren’t for the captain alone. Maybe they’re for himself, too, or maybe they’re for everyone. One thing is certain, and that is that they need to be said.

Negan takes a deep breath and lets it out slow. “Thank you. I am so grateful to have the two of you here with me.” He squeezes Carl and Dwight in his arms, pressing kisses to their cheeks.

“Of course,” Carl says softly, turning to press a kiss of his own to Negan’s bristly cheek before he pulls away to reach for his food and drink. “Now eat up. The people we knocked out aren’t the only people I need to keep an eye on.” He doesn’t move away from Negan’s side though, content to finish his food next to the captain.

“Alright, alright.”

They eat in a comfortable silence, close to each other and looking out over the crew. Negan feels like he should probably give some kind of speech, an eulogy for the men they lost, commendations for the ones who saved them all, but he can’t find the energy. Can’t find the words. All he can do right now is hold on to the ones he loves most and hope that they don’t slip out of his grasp.

“Okay,” Carl says softly, regretfully, when he finishes and sets his dishes on the tray. “I need to start doing rounds. See you when I see you?”

Negan nods, though the look on his face is heartbreaking. Dwight reaches out to take Carl’s hand and give it a squeeze. “I’m going to get Negan into bed. Find us in there, okay?”

“Is it really okay for me to leave the crew like that?” Negan asks as Dwight helps him stand. “I’m the captain. I shouldn’t run off to my bed. You’re the first mate. Shouldn’t you stay as well?”

“They’ll understand, love, and Carl is looking after them.” Dwight gives Carl a knowing smile. “They’ve been in their quartermaster’s hands all night.”

Carl feels a little bit like a hammer has been taken to his ribs. He offers a smile back before grabbing their tray. “Guess I can’t refute that anymore, huh?”

“Don’t think so, dear.”

Carl slips down into the galley, dropping off the dishes and checking on Cook and his assistant first. They’re doing marginally better than some of the others, but Carl thinks it might be because some of the sound was muffled being locked down in food storage.

Many of the worse for wear men are still out on deck. Peter and Arat haven’t gotten physically ill but Arat’s pupils are a little blown, and Peter confesses to feeling nauseous. The headache tonic is still working its way through everyone’s systems, but Carl is mentally noting everyone he needs to check on throughout the night.

He truly doesn’t feel comfortable enough leaving the crew until most of them are in their hammocks. John and Enzo seem to be doing well enough that they volunteer to take watch, and Carl privately thinks they’re just looking for a moment of alone time to check on each other. It’s none of his business though so he takes a candle with nails pushed into the two hour mark and retreats to the dark of the captain’s cabin as quietly as he can.

He finds Negan and Dwight already tucked into bed, but they’re not yet asleep. Whispered words float in the air between them, stopping when Carl enters as they look over at him.

“Hello, love. Everyone doing okay?” Dwight asks.

“For now,” Carl says, huffing a relieved breath as he sets the metal candle plate down on the desk. “I have a nail set to fall two hours from now so I can wake everyone who is concussed and check on them.”

“Sounds good, dear. Why don’t you take the outer edge so you can get up without hassle?” Dwight scoots closer to the window to make more room, Negan following him.

“As much as I would love to,” Carl says honestly as he takes a seat in his usual chair, “I really don’t sleep as lightly as I need to when I’m with you two.”

“Oh…”

“Pull your chair over here then, love?” Negan asks, reaching out for Carl. “Don’t gotta get in, but we just want you close.”

Carl glances at the candle, there’s not really anywhere safe to set it by the bed. Really he would have stayed out at the helm if he didn’t know John and Enzo were having a quiet moment.

Breathing in, Carl pushes up out of the chair, deciding that he’ll probably just stay up. He lifts it, bringing it over to the head of the bed before settling back down. “Better?”

“Very.” Negan smiles up at him, Dwight pressed along his back, both of them reaching out towards Carl.

Carl offers up his hand, the one only decorated by Dwight’s gold rings glinting in the low candle light. “Get some sleep, I’m right here.”

Two hands squeeze around Carl’s before letting go, the two pirates settling under the blanket and under the gaze of their young lover. It’s not long before Negan’s light snores fill the air.

It hits Carl all at once when everything is quiet and he can just take in the sight of his lovers safe and alive, curled together in the bed. The bone deep exhaustion of the day drops on his shoulders like an anchor and impossibly his missing eye begins to burn.

It’s an odd sensation, being able to cry from an eye that’s no longer there. A low distressed sound escapes him and he claws at his bandages, yanking them off his face because suddenly they itch, and he can’t handle them getting wet right now. They pool in his lap, stark against his dark pants but blurred by the dark and his awful silent tears that he can’t seem to hold in.

In his despair, he doesn’t seem to notice that Negan’s snores have stopped. Only when the captain’s hand reaches out to touch him does he realize that the man is awake.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Negan whispers softly. “You held it together for so long, you can let go now, pet. You’re safe.”

Carl shakes his head letting it drop so that his hands can press against his forehead, thumbs digging into his temples. He’s not worried about himself at all. A part of him never even really thought he was in danger, which he knows would sound awful to say to literally anyone on this ship, but it’s true.

He sniffs, blinking hard with his good eye to try and banish the tears. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Well, whatever it is, we’re here for you,” Negan says. “We all had a bit of a scare, but it’s okay now. Like you said.” He tries to give Carl a sleepy smile, but it’s half pressed into the pillow.

Carl gives him a thin, watery smile. “I know it sounds like a lie right now, but I swear I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be sorry. You can always wake me. No matter the reason.” Negan’s words dissolve into mumbles as his eyes close again, his hand still reaching out to bump Carl’s knee.

Carl curls one of his hands around Negan’s, sweeping his thumb across the back of it as he wipes his tears with the other. Giving Negan a squeeze, he brings the hand up and presses his lips firmly against the man’s knuckles. “Sleep well, love, I’ll be here.”

Chapter 34

Summary:

Carl makes his rounds with Negan in tow.

 

When two hours pass and the nail drops, Carl leaves to check on the crew.

Negan stirs just enough to turn over and curl into Dwight. He stirs again when Carl comes back, but doesn’t move to acknowledge him, still tugged down too much by sleep. His snores resume promptly as darkness takes him once again.

Carl resets the nail twice more that night but doesn’t sleep a wink, vigil next to the bed until sun up. He performs one last check up on everyone before breakfast and goes to the galley to retrieve their normal tray, tired but feeling better knowing everyone who remains made it through the night.

Dwight is up and stroking Negan’s hair when Carl walks in with breakfast. He smiles and waves, eyeing Carl up, noticing the exhaustion written in all of his movements and his features. “Morning, love. How is everyone? Did you sleep at all?”

“As far as I can tell, no one is in danger of kicking the bucket as soon as I take my eye off them,” Carl says, setting out their usual places even though his chair is still by the bed. “The important part is that I’m going to sleep like a rock tonight.”

“Why don’t you take a morning nap, my dear? You need sleep to be functional,” Dwight says with a frown.

“I’ll be fine,” Carl assures him. “I’ve done more on less, and I’ll just feel worse when I wake up if I do.”

Dwight sighs but nods. “Alright,” he says, even though what he wants to do is force Carl down into the bed and make him sleep.

Looking down at Negan, Dwight trails his fingers over his features before leaning down and kissing him softly. “Wake up, love. Carl is here.”

“Mm…” Negan groans, shifting beneath the blanket for a moment as he comes back to consciousness. “Carl?”

“More accurately,” Carl says, smiling softly at the two, “breakfast is here.”

“Mm… You’re more important,” Negan mumbles sleepily, turning over to reach for Carl with grabbing hands.

“How about breakfast in bed today, lad? Your chair is still here anyway.”

“I’m not letting you two trick me into getting into bed,” Carl huffs, not even trying to load the tray back up. “And today we have hardtack and I’m not risking crumbs in the sheets.”

Negan groans in woe, throwing his arm over his face dramatically. “He’s seen through our ruse. Why must he deny us so?”

Dwight laughs softly and pats Negan’s chest. “C’mon now. You know you would complain if there were crumbs in your bed.”

“Ugh.”

With a push and a grunt, Negan gets his feet under him and patters over to Carl, drawing him into his arms first thing he can.

Carl practically melts into the man’s hold, arms curling around his bare waist and fingers digging into his skin. Nose buried in Negan’s collarbone, the boy lets out a relieved noise. “Good morning, love.”

“Mornin’,” Negan mumbles back, his face buried into Carl’s hair. He presses kisses there as he holds Carl for a long moment, just enjoying having him in his arms.

Once he finally lets go, Dwight moves in for his turn, hugging Carl tightly and tucking his face into the side of his neck.

When the two finally pull away and take their seats Carl moves to retrieve his chair. “Arat and Peter are bound and determined to get us back on track today. I’ve stationed Carson with them to make sure they don’t overdo it.

“Laura and John,” Carl says as he lifts his bowl, “are on cannon maintenance after us all having to very hurriedly use several of them yesterday, and everyone else is either doing their usual or waiting for Master Dwight’s instructions.”

“Sounds like you’ve really gotten everything under control,” Dwight says, breaking up his hardtack into his bowl. “How is the morale of everyone? Negan was worried since we left them early they would resent us, but I can’t see our crew doing that.”

“I think everyone is too concerned for each other to resent anyone right now,” Carl says, gathering his grits on his hardtack. “It would probably benefit them to see you both out and about today though.”

“Yes, I was planning on walking the ship and maybe giving a little speech,” Negan says, stirring his grits. “Something rousing and encouraging. I know it was a horrific ordeal, but I can’t help feel that the sirens are a sign that we are on the right path to our goal.”

Carl offers a thin smile, trying to show his support. He personally isn’t one for big speeches, but Negan knows the crew far better than he does. “That’s a great idea, I’m sure they’ll appreciate some encouragement.”

Negan hums, burying his hardtack under his grits.

After breakfast, they venture out. Negan goes to the helm to check on Peter and Arat first before leaning against the rail looking down over the deck to give his speech. He keeps it short, as short as he can, but he commemorates the fallen and praises Carl, Laura, and John for being the saviors of the crew. He shares his hopes that this has them on the right track, and encourages everyone to keep on keeping on.

In the end, the morale seems a bit higher, and that’s really all Negan could ask for from his crew.

Carl slips down to the brig after the speech, shoulders feeling uncomfortably tight over the praise. It’s not the kind he likes is what he keeps thinking. He doesn’t want to be praised for this.

Scrubbing a hand over his face he gets to work on fixing up extra headache tonics, nausea relievers, and sleeping draughts.

A few hours pass before Negan makes his way down to the brig, knocking on the door frame as he enters. “Hey, pet. You in here?”

Carl blinks up from bottling sleeping draughts and yawns around his, “Yeah, what do you need me for?”

Negan sighs and smiles softly. “Just wanted to check on you,” he says, stepping over and resting a hand on the back of Carl’s head. “I know you didn’t sleep any last night, and Dwight says you won’t nap. I don’t want you pushing yourself today.”

“I’m almost done with this,” Carl informs him, leaning his head back into Negan’s hand, “and then I’m just going to be running a check on everyone. Nothing strenuous.”

Negan hums and gently massages his fingers into Carl’s scalp. “Alright then.” He leans in to press a kiss to Carl’s temple. “What are you concocting anyway? More headache tonic?”

“Did those earlier. I wanted to have some sleeping draughts available, I noticed people were having trouble last night.” Carl knows it was probably mostly from the previous day’s events, but he still thinks it’s a good idea to have them.

“Mm. Good then.” Negan slides his hand down to the back of Carl’s neck. “Don’t know what we did without you. I’ve never had such a healthy crew.”

Carl hums softly, some of his tension bleeding out with the pressure of Negan’s palm against the back of his neck. “I’m sure you all did fine, you made it this far.”

“Aye, but not without our fair share of scurvy and the like,” Negan says with a grimace, softly rubbing his fingers along Carl’s neck. “You’ve made the quality of life here on the ship increase tenfold.”

“Hm,” Carl voices, focused on the gentle pressure on his throat until the words catch up with him. “Honestly, it is not hard to avoid scurvy. The fact that you were not bringing greens onboard and drying orange and lemon peels is unimaginable to me.”

“Mm, our last quartermaster was not as educated in this area,” Negan says with a sigh. “We mainly used the lemon mixed with the rum to ward it off.”

“Which is fine short term,” Carl points out, straightening up to continue filling the remaining bottles he has out. “But it’s not exactly healthy to be drinking alcohol as the body’s primary source of liquid either.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not my fault it keeps so well,” Negan says with a laugh, letting his hand fall lower, tracing down Carl’s spine.

“I know you’re trying to distract me away from what I’m doing,” Carl says, pushing a cork into the bottle he’s just filled. “But now I’m just going to be thinking about how to put rain catchers on deck.”

Negan laughs softly and leans in again to press a kiss to Carl’s cheek and then nuzzles his way over to Carl’s ear. “Then, should I try harder?” he whispers, sharp teeth grinning against the shell of Carl’s ear.

Carl tries to give the man a stern look but ends up laughing softly. “No, and definitely not in a shared room like this.”

Negan whines, sliding his hand back up and tangling his fingers into the soft baby hairs at the base of Carl’s skull. “You’re no fun, my love. The risk of getting caught is what makes it exciting!”

“Well you can risk getting caught with our better third,” Carl says fondly, “but I enjoy my privacy.”

Negan snorts softly, pecking another kiss to Carl’s cheek. “Alright, lovely pet.” He leans back, tugging playfully on Carl’s hair as he pulls his hand away. “You want me to leave you be, then? Let you finish up your potions?”

Carl lifts the last bottle to ladle the very last draught into it. “With this one I’m done, and we both know I wouldn’t chase you away, but I should check on everyone.”

“I’ll come with you then,” Negan says, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I did a bit of a walk around earlier, but I haven’t seen everyone individually.”

“If that’s what you wish,” Carl says, corking the sleeping draught and putting it in with the others. “Let me clean this up and we can go.”

All of the herbs go in their places first before the draughts are put with the other medicines and Carl slides the cauldron over to clean more thoroughly later before wiping his hands down and turning to leave. “You can leave if you get restless. I’m just mother henning at this point.”

“I’ll be okay. I just want to spend time with you, to be honest,” Negan says, following along on Carl’s heels. “This whole thing still has me a bit shaken up. Would rather be with someone than in my cabin alone.”

Carl spares a thought that maybe Negan would have been better off if he had knocked him out but discards it just as quickly. “Well the more the merrier I suppose.”

He starts his rounds with the men on deck, forcing them away from each job - something he notices is a little more difficult with Negan looming over his shoulder - to check their eyes, hearing, and ask them a litany of questions. Many of them keep giving him these awed looks that make him feel sort of uncomfortable, so he tries to ignore it, figuring it’s due to the speech from this morning.

Negan for the most part stays out of Carl’s way despite being glued to him. He makes small talk with the sailors once Carl is done with them, continuing on when Carl does.

“You ever thought about being a doctor?” Negan asks when they’re in between people.

“Not even a little bit,” Carl answers honestly. “I wanted to sell soap and had unfortunately resigned myself to being a kept man by some high society lady.”

“Hm, well, now you’re a kept man by some pirates, ay?” Negan bumps Carl with his elbow and laughs. “But how’s about now? You can do anything you want. Still wanna sell soap? We could set that up. Have you sellin’ at every port we stop at.”

“Seems a bit convoluted don’t you think?” Carl hums, stepping below deck and zeroing in on his next unwilling patient. “I mean, seems a little redundant when as pirates you just take what you want anyway.”

Negan shrugs. “If it’s something you’d like to do, I say just do it. It’d be more for the experience of selling and supplying people with a good than making money, I suppose, but if you like it, then who cares?”

“I might take you up on that if I had the space to actually make my own lye or cultivate a soy crop,” Carl comments lightly, “but I’m fine just providing for the crew. I even have requests.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s pretty good then! Glad to see the crew taking a shine to good hygiene.” Negan laughs, but he really is happy for Carl. He’s so glad Carl’s managed to integrate into the crew so well.

Marco spots them at Negan’s laugh and immediately looks around for an escape.

Carl jabs a finger in the young man’s direction. “So help me lord, Marco. You can’t run from me on this ship so you better go ahead and sit your behind down.”

“I swea’ ‘m fine, Masta’ Carl!”

“You have two!” Carl lifts two fingers. “Count them! Two! Broken ribs!”

Negan’s eyebrows go up, grinning maniacally at Marco. “Two broken ribs? Hey ho, Marco! I don’t want to see you doing nothin’ but swabbin for a week or so, you hear me?”

Marco grimaces. “Ye, Cap’n.”

“Oh, he respects you,” Carl tuts, grinning over his shoulder at Negan before turning his stern face back at Marco. “You. Sit. Shirt off. Now.”

Marco sighs and settles on a barrel, carefully pulling off his shirt. “Ya says I was fine this mo’nin’.”

“And you will continue to be fine if I make sure your ribs haven’t shifted out of place,” Carl says, gently taking the other boy’s arm in his hand and leaning close to look at the bruising on his dark skin. “Negan, bring me that lantern.”

“Aye.” Negan takes the nearby lantern off its nail and brings it close so Carl can examine Marco. “Yeesh. Really did a number on ya here. What was this from exactly?”

“We weren’t exactly gentle when we were tying people up, my love,” Carl says gently. They certainly weren’t the perfect heroes Negan made them out to be in his speech.

“Better hurt than dead,” Negan says with a grunt.

Carl takes the lantern, gently pressing his fingers to Marco’s chest and back just to make sure the ribs haven’t shifted. “You still breathing alright?”

“Yessir.”

“The pallet we make up for you comfortable enough?”

“Yessir.”

Carl hums, pulling his hand away. “I need you to tell me if this starts hurting anymore than it does now or if you start coughing. Do you understand that, Marco?”

The young man looks a little nervous, eyes flicking between Carl and Negan before dropping to his feet.

“He asked you a question, son,” Negan says, gesturing to Carl as he takes the lamp back from him.

“Yessir, I unda’stan’.” Marco says tensely.

Carl takes pity on the other boy, waving him to pull his shirt back on. “You won’t be bothering me, Marco. I don’t care if I’m in the captain’s cabin or on the deck. If you think something is wrong you come tell me. It’s what I’m here for.”

Marco turns his big brown eyes on Carl, nodding shortly. “Yessir.”

Negan smiles and nods before turning to place the lantern back on the hook where it belongs. “Let the others know that too. If anyone needs anything, doors are always open. If you can’t find Carl, ask me or Dwight or even Carson. We’ll be able to find him for ya.”

“The ship is only so big,” Carl huffs fondly, rolling his eye as he glances around to make sure no one else below deck needs his assistance. “If I’m not with one of you, I’m at the helm or in the galley.”

Negan shrugs. “I dunno. Sometimes I just lose people. I once looked for Dwight for hours because we just kept circling each other without realizing it.”

“I don’t even want to know how you managed that,” Carl says amusedly, moving back to the step ladder. “I only have to check with our galley men and then I’m done unless someone asks me for something.”

“Sounds good,” Negan says with a smile. “This has been quite nice. I enjoy talking to everyone like this. Really helps me get on with the crew. I’m always afraid they’re gonna think I’m disconnected from them or the like.”

Carl can’t help but quirk a brow at him. “You think you’re disconnected from your crew? Negan, darling love, you know all of their names, you saved over half of them from shit situations, and you know exactly where you’ll find each of them when we make port.” Carl scoffs a little. “Disconnected? What rubbish.”

Negan can’t help the heat that hits his cheeks as he tucks his hands into his coat pockets and scuffs his boots along the floor. “I can’t explain my paranoia, but I’m glad for your reassurance. Thank you.”

Carl scrunches his nose. “You don’t gotta thank me, you just have to remember that you’re captain because they like you as captain, not because you have a ship.”

Negan laughs and nods. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“It happens every now and again,” Carl notes, making his way towards the galley.

Negan just laughs again and ruffles Carl’s hair, following him in. He waves to Cook, who looks panicked for a second until Negan explains he’s just shadowing Carl.

“Gave me a heart attack, capitano. Thought you were gonna complain about ya food,” Cook says, a hand over his thundering heart.

“I ain’t never done such a thing in my life. Just cause I don’t get here often don’t mean it’s a bad thing when I do.” Negan huffs.

“Aye, supposed I was thinkin’ of some other ship I worked on.”

Carl leaves them to chat, much more focused on Cook’s assistant that he still hasn’t pulled a name for. The man grimaces when he catches sight of Carl but to his credit he does immediately stop what he’s doing and offers up his hands.

Carl checks the security of the bandages on his fingers and inspects them for new blood. “Your nails are going to start growing in again in a few days and it’s going to be uncomfortable for you. When that happens we’ll need to take these off to let your fingers breathe. I’ll have Master Dwight move you to another job for a few days.”

The man nods, examining his bandages. “Thank you,” he says softly.

Cook laughs loudly at something Negan says before smacking the captain on the back. “You said it!” He shakes his head.

Negan chuckles and waves him off then, moving closer to Carl as Cook goes back to his food prep.

“I’m done for now,” Carl says as he turns to Negan only to bring a hand up to contain a yawn. “Just have to stay up until dinner.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap beforehand?” Negan asks with concern tugging at his features as he wraps an arm around Carl’s shoulders.

“I’d much rather sleep the night, love,” Carl tells the man, leaning into his side. “Waiting won’t kill me.”

“Alright, well…” Negan leans in close as he starts to lead Carl away, voice dropping so only Carl can hear. “Would you like me to help keep you awake back in the cabin? A little stress relief we could probably both use?”

Carl hums. “As nice as the offer is, it would do more to put me to sleep than keep me awake. Not exactly something I’d be upset over but better saved for later.” He can’t deny the thrill in the idea of Negan putting him to sleep that way, waking him up that way, or anything in between.

Negan hums, pressing a kiss to Carl’s head. “Alright, lovely pet. Let’s go stand at the helm then, yeah? Make sure Peter is doing well and keeping our heading.”

“You know he’s been calling himself an honorary Grimes?” Carl comments, reaching up to tap his temple. “Keeps saying he has the crest to prove it as if I don’t feel awful enough about the whole business.”

Negan bursts into loud laughter, practically falling into Carl with the way bends over to wheeze. “Oh my lord! I’m giving him a commendation! That’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard!”

Carl is trying not to smile and having a tough time of it. “It’s horrible! I knocked the poor man out and dropped him on the floor, and he keeps claiming that’s how all brothers are.”

“Aw, let him have his fun. You saved his life, you did!” Negan says with a squeeze to Carl’s shoulder. “He’s right about the brothers thing. I’m an only child myself, but I had some friends who were brothers, and those two never quit wrastlin’.”

“I was nothing but kind to my sister, I’ll have you know,” Carl huffs. “Wrestling, ugh, no. Not my thing.”

“I think it’s different when it’s two boys with a small gap in age,” Negan says with a snort, pushing Carl up the ladder back to the upper deck. “I don’t think anyone would try to wrestle a toddler.”

“I should hope not,” Carl tuts as he steps up to the helm only to come face to face with Peter’s smirking face. “Oh bugger off.”

Negan laughs loudly again, stepping up to Peter and leaning in close to look at the bruise on his head. “Well, damn! You weren’t lying! This shit is solid! Peter Grimes! Nice to meet ya!”

“Don’t endorse this nonsense,” Carl sighs, pinching his nose. Arat and Laura are looking on, grinning from the map table. He points a finger at them. “You either.”

“Ah, come now, Master Carl. Just a spot of fun,” Peter says with a grin, only wincing slightly when Negan tries to run his finger over the mark.

“I harmed you!” Carl squawks feeling bereft. “I harmed you, and you make fun out of it!”

“A bump on the head is worth not being carted off the boat by a sea witch, eh? Think ‘m allowed to make fun of wha’ever I want after all that.”

Negan loops his arm around Carl’s waist and gives him a squeeze. “Sometimes it’s easier to laugh about things, pet. Especially when you live to tell the tale.”

“Bah,” Carl waves a hand. “Tell that to his wife when she asks why he’s got the mark of a lawman dented in his head.”

“My bonnie Delilah will still love me, dents and all,” Peter says with a lovesick look in his eyes.

“Think she’ll love having him home alive, in any piece,” Arat murmurs.

“At least she’ll know who to write the thank you letter to,” Laura says with a chuckle.

“I’ll have to meet the woman in person if she’s to be my honorary sister in law,” Carl snarks, eye closed and arms crossed as he leans against his usual bit of bannister.

The group laughs, Negan leaning in to smile against Carl’s temple. “There ya go! What a lovely family reunion it will be!”

“She’d love you,” Peter says with a bit too much serious emotion in his tone. “She’s a bit of a spitfire, but she’s so caring and sweet.”

“Most good women are,” Carl says though he can’t fight the way he leans into Negan’s touch. “In my experience that is.”

There’s a hum of agreement from the group as Negan rubs his cheek against Carl’s head like a cat looking for attention.

Chapter 35

Summary:

Carl finally gets some sleep.

Notes:

R: May the fourth be with everyone today~ Enjoy this little chapter~

Negan has at least managed to coax Carl into grabbing a change of clothes and lounging in his usual chair in the captain’s quarters by the time everyone starts making noise about dinner. It won’t be terribly long before they’re all on the hunt for a previously unknown island according to Arat, and it seems the captain wants everyone - most of all Carl - well rested and well prepared.

Dwight pushes through the door with their food, smiling at the sight of Carl in his chair and Negan scribbling away in his book. He sets their tray down on the desk before turning to Carl and tapping a knuckle under his chin. “Hi there, lad. How was your day?”

“Well it felt more like two,” Carl says, giving the man a tired smile. “How was yours?”

“Just fine, love. Here. Eat up and then finally go to bed, I swear.” Dwight presses a bowl of steaming food into Carl’s hands, kissing his forehead while he’s at it.

“Tried to make him nap, but he refused,” Negan says in his defense, closing up his books.

“Oh, I know. Stubborn little one he is.” Dwight plops down in his chair with a sigh. “Everyone seems like they’re doing well, though. Good job with all you do, lad.”

“Pick a side,” Carl jokes as he digs into his fish and rice. “Am I too stubborn, or am I doing a good job?”

“Well, I think you still could have done a good job even if you had had a nap, but…” Dwight shrugs, shoving a bite into his mouth in lieu of a better answer.

“You’re stubbornly doing a good job,” Negan supplies, waving his spoon towards Carl.

“Yes, well, it’s not as if I would have been able to sleep anyway,” Carl says unthinking. “I was half out of my mind thinking I’d wake to all of you walking overboard.”

Dwight and Negan pause in their eating to look at Carl, their eyes going wide with sadness and realization. Negan remembers waking in the night to find Carl crying and puts two and two together.

“Oh, hun…” Dwight reaches out to gently place his hand upon Carl’s knee. “You could have told us that. We would have understood.”

“Better to have some of us well rested than none of us,” the boy says diplomatically though his eye lingers on the hand over his knee.

Negan huffs and shakes his head. “Just… eat your dinner and then get your ass into that bed. That’s an order from your captain. Got it?”

Carl points his spoon at the man. “Captain or not, when have you ever known me to follow orders?” He scoops up one of his last few bites. “I might just make you carry me. I am exhausted after all.”

“I would gladly do that,” Negan says, faux sternness on his face. “Not like I haven’t done it before.”

Dwight just smiles and gives Carl’s knee a little squeeze before returning to his own dinner.

“The way he talks you wouldn’t think he was trying to flirt his way into my pants all afternoon,” Carl notes, glancing over at Dwight as he scrapes together the last of his food. “I was starting to think he had some sort of thing about me taking care of his crew.”

“He’s got a thing about everything,” Dwight says with a roll of his eyes.

Negan scoffs, now pointing his spoon at Dwight. “I take offense at that. I may have a lot of things, but not for everything.”

“Sure, dear.”

Carl can’t help but laugh softly at the two, trading his bowl for his mug and finding it pleasantly full of tart lemony grog. “I’ll be sure to keep my eye out for the things you speak of. Could be good fun to have something to tease him about for once.”

“Oh, just ask me later. I can tell you lots of them,” Dwight says with a cheeky grin, raising his eyebrows.

“You two are menaces,” Negan says, grabbing his mug to hide behind.

“Oh, now we’re the menaces,” Carl clicks his tongue completely unoffended.

“I have no idea what you mean, dear. We are so completely innocent,” Dwight says, placing his empty bowl down and winking at Negan. “No amount of menace in us at all.”

“Well,” Carl drawls, rolling the edge of his cup against his lip, “maybe a little menace.”

Dwight chuckles, crossing his leg over his knee and reaching out to trail his fingers through Carl’s hair. “Alright, maybe a little.”

Carl hums softly, leaning into the touch. He finishes off his drink and sets the mug aside, content to wait a bit longer to collapse in bed.

Negan doesn’t let him sit around for too long, though. Once he’s done with his own meal, he scoots his chair back and makes his way to Carl. “Alright, c’mon. Bed time for ya, pet. Let’s go.”

Without much other warning, Negan bends down and takes Carl’s hands, throwing them over his shoulders, before scooping Carl up and hoisting him out of his chair.

Carl thinks that just about every time Negan picks him up he’s going to have to mentally disparage himself for being a swooning maiden. He may be slight and a head shorter but it’s not as if he’s light. It seems it’s always going to give him a rush of heat.

“Are you going to let me dress down or will you be doing that for me as well, love?”

“I can do it just fine,” Negan says with a toothy grin, making his way to his bed and gently lowering Carl down to it. “You want to take your dagger while I get your boots?”

Carl doesn’t bother to confirm, just starts pulling his belts off and sliding his dagger off the end as soon as he’s cushioned on the bed.

Negan hums a soft tune as he kneels down and goes to work removing Carl’s boots, placing them to the side. He takes the rest of Carl’s weapons and belts and sets them near his boots before placing his hands on Carl’s thighs. “Anything else, my pet?”

Carl thinks almost seriously about propositioning the man but decides he’s much too tired and wouldn’t want to actually fall asleep while it’s happening lest he insult him. He takes a breath and then tries not to grimace. “Quite frankly, I’m not exactly fond of these clothes right now.”

He’s been wearing them for days straight now, and while that usually doesn’t bother him, he keeps finding little spatters of blood or ash from the sirens, and it takes him right back to before. He hasn’t really had the time or energy to change yet however.

“You want the ones you brought to change into, or you just want to sleep bare?” Negan asks, already slipping his hands under Carl’s shirt to help him get it off. He can tell Carl is tired and not in the mood to play around, so he tries to keep his touches perfunctory and casual.

“Those are for tomorrow,” Carl says softly, practically purring at the feel of Negan’s hands sweeping up his sides, “but perhaps leave me my smalls at least, it’d do me no good if someone needed me in the night and I was bare.”

“Depends on who needs you,” Negan says with a bounce of his eyebrows and a half smirk. He tosses Carl’s shirt away before working on his trousers, careful to only take those off when he tugs them down.

“I expect no one outside of this room will need me naked,” Carl huffs fondly. “Unless you seem to think I have designs on someone in your crew.”

“I meant Dwight and I, ya smug bastard,” Negan says with a snort and no malice. He tosses Carl’s pants away, sure that Dwight is already picking up all the dirty laundry, before maneuvering Carl fully up on the bed. “Go to sleep now, eh? We’ll be in soon.”

“You…” Carl yawns, shoving his dagger under the pillow Negan laid him on. “…better be.”

Negan smiles and leans in to kiss Carl. “Goodnight, my dear. Sweet dreams.”

Dwight pops up from over Negan, bending down to give Carl his own kiss. “Sleep well, love.”

Carl accepts both kisses happily, before getting nice and comfortable with his ankles crossed and his arms folded. He’s sure they’ll move him or Negan will roll half on top of him when they actually come to bed, but until then his usual way is just fine.

 

~

 

No one disturbs them in the night, leaving them to sleep into the morning wrapped up in each other. Dwight and Negan originally try to give Carl space when they crawl into bed on either side of him, but it’s quickly thrown out the window the moment Negan throws his arm around Carl and drags Dwight in.

Carl wakes once, at his usual sun-up time and grunts in displeasure, turning and burying his nose in Negan’s chest. It is very quickly decided that he is not going to be first up today.

That pleasure goes to Dwight, who wakes to find himself flush with Carl’s back. He smiles and nuzzles his nose into Carl’s hair, inhaling deep before pressing a kiss to Carl’s shoulder. Waking up like this is one of Dwight’s favorite things, and he’s so thankful that they are all safe and together. Scares like the other day are a heavy reason why Dwight would love nothing more than to retire early from pirating, but he knows Negan would never go for it.

Carl wakes slightly, feeling Dwight shift behind him, and he reaches back a bit fumbling and mumbles against Negan’s chest, “Sleep.”

“Oh…” Dwight breathes, smiling against Carl’s skin. “Okay, love.” He catches Carl’s hand, squeezing it softly as he lets his eyes close again. He’s not sure if he will fall back asleep, but he’ll never say no to staying in bed with his lovers.

Carl hums softly, bringing Dwight’s arm back around him like Negan’s and pressing a purposeful kiss against his fingertips. Happily ensconced between the two he settles back in young for at least a few more minutes of dozing.

Dwight really has a hard time falling back asleep after that. His fingers tingle where Carl’s lips touched, Carl’s own words about hand kisses and marriage proposals rattling around in Dwight’s head. He can’t tell if it was purposeful, or just a product of being sleepy. He knows lips have touched hands during passionate nights, but there were always other distractions. This though… Should he ask about it when they wake? He doesn’t want to upset Carl again. Ugh.

After another hour or so, Carl finally begins to stir because he’s hungry, mumbling discontents under his breath as he stretches trying not to knock into either of his lovers.

With a soft noise, Dwight shifts back just a hair to give Carl room to move. He watches Carl for any sign or discontent or regret or… anything really that can stop the buzzing in his brain.

“Morning, love. You awake this time?” he whispers warmly, pressing his lips to Carl’s shoulder again.

“Mhm,” Carl hums reaching up to scrub some of the grogginess out of his eye, “‘m starved.”

“Yeah, hun? You hungry?” Dwight smooths a hands down Carl’s side, patting his hip. “I can go get us breakfast if you wanna stay here a few more minutes. Maybe wake Negan up for us.”

“M’kay,” Carl mumbles, knowing that he probably needs to shock himself awake a little as well. He spares a stray thought for if it will bother Negan to push him out of the bed and then decides he’s too tired to care, wrapping an arm around the man for the moment.

Dwight leaves with a kiss to both their cheeks, slipping his boots on before slipping out the door.

Negan shuffles slightly from all the movement and noise, but doesn’t open his eyes. He curls in closer to Carl, sliding his hand down to his lower back with a pleasant hum.

“‘S time to get up,” Carl mumbles, pressing his fingers uncomfortably into the man’s ribs.

Grunting, Negan digs his own fingers into Carl in retaliation. “Mm… Don’t wanna,” he murmurs.

Carl heaves a sigh. He did give Negan a chance to get up on his own after all. Tightening his arm around the man, he twists and shoves them both off the bed. He lands with a grunt and what will definitely be a sore hip for an hour.

“Oof! What-!” Negan groans, his grip on Carl tight in his sudden worry of Carl getting hurt. He sighs and lets his head thunk back onto the floor, defeated. “I hate that he’s taught you that.”

Carl shifts and yawns, trying to sit up from Negan’s clutches. “You should’ve seen that coming.”

With a laugh, Negan twists and flips their positions, caging Carl in with his arms and leaning in to kiss him. “You shoulda seen this coming,” he says with a grin, trailing his lips along Carl’s jaw.

Carl laughs softly, reaching up to scrub his fingers through Negan’s hair. “How do you know I didn’t?”

“Mm… Suppose I don’t. Though, I would think the bed would be comfier,” Negan says, shifting his weight to one arm so he can trail his hand down Carl’s bare chest to his hip and squeeze.

“Sure,” Carl recognizes, enjoying the skin on skin, “but then we’d have gone back to sleep.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that either,” Negan says, laving his mouth along Carl’s neck and over his throat. “You know you can always wake me up with a kiss, by the way. Don’t have to throw me out.”

Carl hums, tilting his head back to allow the man access. He might not enjoy bites there but he appreciates the soft touch of the man’s lips and tongue and the prickle of his facial hair. “Seems like that always leads to us staying in bed.”

“What’s wrong with that? You got better things to do than stay in bed with me?” Negan asks with a purr, loving the way Carl opens himself up for him. He’s careful to suppress the urge to bite, but he can’t help sucking a little mark high up on Carl’s neck where his shirt won’t cover.

Carl laughs softly, digging his fingers into Negan’s side in reprimand. “Believe it or not you have a whole ship to run, and if I like it or not, apparently I’ve been helping.”

“Gosh, really? A whole ship? Why, aren’t we lucky?” Negan laughs. He raises his hand back up to cradle Carl’s face, trailing his lips to Carl’s lips to press a warm kiss there.

The boy practically purrs, accepting the kiss greedily. Exactly why he didn’t wake Negan up this way.

“Honestly, I’m gone ten minutes and y’all end up on the floor?” Dwight snorts a laugh, a tray with their breakfast on his hip as he looks down at the two.

“Wasn’t me,” Negan pouts, running his thumb over Carl’s cheek as he leans in to kiss him again.

The kiss is short because Carl breaks it, laughing a bit as he smacks Negan in the shoulder lightly. He looks up at Dwight still smiling. “You told me to wake him up.”

“Aye, that I did.” Setting the tray down on Negan’s desk, Dwight waves at them to get up, settling into his own chair. “Come on now. You said you were starving, yeah?”

Negan presses one more kiss to Carl’s lips before getting up and then helping Carl to his feet. “Starving? Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

“Feels a bit sacrilegious to eat without my clothes on,” Carl comments as he settles in his chair next to the bundle of clean clothes. “But I really am hungry.” He reaches out, scooping up his bowl. The oatmeal and nuts mixed together inside have a distinct coconut smell meaning Cook took him seriously when he said he should use coconut water for some of their meals.

“Eat up, hun. I’d rather you be fed than clothed,” Dwight says, taking a bite of his own food before going pink as he realizes what he just said.

“I too would rather prefer that!” Negan says with a laugh, falling into his chair and grabbing up his bowl.

“Oh, I’m not surprised at that in the slightest,” the boy says, amused as he sweeps his spoon through the sweet smelling breakfast.

They eat in comfortable company, Negan quiet for once as his mouth is occupied by food and mind still sleepy. Dwight’s is still buzzing from Carl’s actions earlier, but he keeps a tight lip on his thoughts, wanting to discuss with Negan first. He crunches a nut between his teeth satisfactorily as he lets out a soft sigh through his nose.

“I’m gonna have to tell Cook how happy I am that he took my suggestion,” Carl says when he finishes, trading his bowl for his mug to get a few sips of his morning drink.

“What suggestion is that, love?” Dwight asks, already cradling his own mug in his hands.

“The coconut water for cooking to preserve some of our drinkable water,” Carl explains briefly, setting his half-full mug down so that he can stand, stretching as he goes, and begin getting ready for the day.

“Ah, is that what that flavor was?” Negan asks, eyes glued to Carl as he moves about, drinking in all of the bare skin while he still can.

“I liked it,” Dwight says with a nod, also watching Carl, though a little less lecherously.

“Satisfied your sweet tooth a little, I hope,” the boy says lightly as he pulls his socks. He pulls the pants first from the pile of new clothes, stroking his fingers across the velvet pattern for a moment before beginning to pull the tight trousers on.

“Quite,” Negan says, licking the remnants of breakfast off his lips, though his gaze is caught on the soft meat of Carl’s thighs right before they disappear beneath his pants. “These some of your new articles?”

“Mhm,” Carl hums, picking up the shirt with the ruffle front that he’d picked because it had looked both like the cravats he used to love and some of the billowy shirts he’s seen Negan and Dwight wear.

“Oh, I like this,” Dwight comments, watching the look come together. Negan nods, leaning forward on his desk to get a better angle.

“This is the best part,” Carl says, lifting and shaking out the thin, knee-length jacket he had picked up. Green with silvery gold embroidery. He’d seen it while they were docked and rushed to it immediately, finding with a thrill that it was the perfect size.

Dwight and Negan watch with bated breath as Carl slips the jacket on, giving a soft round of applause once he’s fully dressed. “Oh, wow. Look at you!” Dwight says with a beaming smile.

“Give us a turn, ay? Let’s see it from all angles.”

“I won’t be able to comfortably wear my crossbody belt with this outfit,” Carl points out as he gives a slow turn. He pulls his jacket open to show them the inner lining. “But look! Pockets!”

“Oh! How fancy!” Dwight laughs softly, gesturing for Carl to come closer so he can see better. “Could you not put your belt on before the jacket? Or would it still get in the way?”

“Would feel wrong,” Carl says, stepping closer. “This jacket is pretty close fitting.”

Dwight hums, running his hands down Carl’s body and examining the jacket closer. The texture is nice around the brocade and the color really works well with Carl’s hair. He can feel how tight the jacket sits against Carl’s sides and hums. “Ah, yeah. I see.” He lifts the flap to see the pockets before feeling the velvet on Carl’s pants near his hips. “This is all very nice.”

“Dwight, dear heart?” Carl speaks softly, brows quirking up, face red from the touches. “I just put these clothes on.”

The ‘I shouldn’t take them right back off’ is clearly implied.

“Ah, right. So you have.” Dwight laughs softly, raising his hands up to take Carl’s face in his hands. “Sorry about that, love.”

Carl reaches up to squeeze Dwight’s wrists. “Maybe just wait to feel me up until after dinner, yeah?”

Dwight smiles and nods. “I can do that,” he says, easing Carl down to give him a warm kiss. “Are you off to check the crew then?”

“If I didn’t, I’d be slacking,” Carl huffs around a smile, mouth still tingling from the kiss. He leaves their side to grab his rapier from beside the bed and his dagger from within it. “But it shouldn’t take me the whole day this time. I’ll likely find myself on the helm with the usuals or teaching John to throw knives. Apparently after seeing what I did to the mainsail pulley he thinks it’s a useful skill to learn.”

Negan nods. “I agree. Good for many reasons.”

“Just be careful. We’ll be out shortly,” Dwight says, giving Negan a quick look that says he wants to talk to him.

“Half the time I’m more careful than Negan,” Carl mumbles, mostly to himself as he slides his waist belt on, weapons heavy at his hip. He’ll need to stop by the brig to drop off his other belt and switch some of the things he usually attaches to it to his pockets.

He drops a kiss on Negan’s cheek before slipping out of the room, already intent on his tasks.

Negan sighs as he watches Carl go, gooey smile on his face. “God, I love it when he’s like that. All cute and affectionate. How’d we get so lucky to bag a catch like him?”

“Only God knows,” Dwight says with a snort, picking up his mug again and rolling it between his hands. He can feel Negan watching him, silently waiting for Dwight to speak what’s plaguing his mind.

Finally, Dwight clears his throat. “Do you remember when Carl was telling us about his gloves? How his hands are special to him and his people?”

“Yeah, of course,” Negan says with a nod, eyebrows tugging in as he tries to figure out where Dwight is going with this.

“And you remember how upset he got because I kissed his hand that one night without knowing the implications?”

Negan nods slowly.

“Well, earlier, before we got up, I woke up and kinda shifted. Woke Carl up a little too,” Dwight says, taking a sip of his drink. “He didn’t want to wake up yet, so we kinda settled back in, but I had taken his hand at some point there, and he…” Dwight raises his hand to his mouth, watching Negan’s eyes light up as he connects the dots. “He kissed my hand. Granted, he was still very sleepy, but… It just doesn’t seem like something he’d just do. Not after our discussion about it.”

“He did it to me too.”

“What?”

Negan nods, hands gesturing quickly through the air. “Just the other night, when he stayed awake all night after the mermaids. I woke up at one point, heard him cryin’, wanted to comfort him. I think he thought I’d fallen back asleep already, but he also-” Negan repeats Dwight’s gesture of bringing his hand to his mouth. “- did that to me.”

Dwight blinks in shock and awe at Negan, coming to terms with this new knowledge. He looks into his mug for a long while like it may hold the answers before looking back to Negan. “We have to ask him about it, or I’m going to go mad.”

~

Carl’s Outfit Inspo Chaps 35-43

Chapter 36

Summary:

The boys discuss feelings before all three tumble into bed for some fun.

Notes:

R: we’re in the home stretch after this!! Only a handful of chapters left! I’m sooo excited!!

 

“You’re stressing yourself out about it, you just have to let it flow,” Carl says to Peter, demonstrating a simple pass through his fingers with the spoon he’s been having Peter practice with.

Peter frowns at the spoon as it’s handed back. “Can you do that with everything?”

“Quills are too flexible,” Carl offers up, “and buttons are usually too small.”

The helmsman tries again and over corrects trying not to drop the spoon, having to stoop a little to catch it. “What did you learn with?”

“I mostly used whatever I could get my hands on. Sticks, rulers, a fancy fountain pen, a butter knife.” Carl shrugs. “The trick is to get used to similar stuff before you move on to different tricks.”

Peter slowly weaves the spoon between his fingers the way Carl has been showing him. The movement is jerky and at a snail's pace, but it’s a start. “What’s the smallest thing you can do tricks with?”

“Probably a die, or a coin,” the boy says thoughtfully, leaning back against the bannister. “Those are different tricks though.”

“What kinda trick can I get for a doubloon?” Negan’s voice floats up from the stairway before he appears over the rail, grinning at Carl and Peter. He’s already fishing a coin out of his pocket, tossing it to Carl with a flick of his thumb. “Something good, I hope.”

Carl catches the coin in front of his face, weighing it in his hand for a moment as Negan approaches. “Won’t be as flashy as the knife.”

He flips the golden coin over the backs of his fingers quickly, getting used to the feel as it transfers through his knuckles. Forwards then backwards and then forward again before tucking his thumb behind it and flicking it to his other hand to do the same. When he finishes with his off hand he flicks it up in the air, reaching out with his other hand to catch the spinning coin on his middle finger. It only spins for a second or two before he pushes up and catches it between his first two fingers.

“That last part is a lot harder with one eye actually.” Carl tries not to be frustrated about it. It isn’t his usual fare after all.

Negan and Peter clap softly. “We can’t do that with two eyes, so it’s extra impressive you can do it with one!” Peter says with a large smile.

“It was very good, pet. I could watch that for hours.” Negan laughs softly, leaning back against the rail near Carl. “Keep the coin, yeah?”

“Bold to think I’d give it back after you interrupted my lesson,” Carl clicks his tongue, but he’s sure the effect is lessened with the slight flush to his face. He squirrels the coin away to one of his hidden coin purses. “You’ve been out on deck a lot more lately,” he notes.

“Have I?” Negan scratches at his beard, looking off into the distance. He will need to shave soon, he notes to himself, the hair just a bit too long for his liking.

“You have, sir,” Peter supplies helpfully.

With a shrug, Negan huffs. “Okay, well… It’s my ship. Think I can be out on the deck if I want, yeah? Ain’t no reason.”

Carl snorts a little at the man’s standoffishness. “It’s not like we said there was anything wrong with that.”

Negan shrugs again, not looking particularly bothered.

He turns his attention on the helmsman, extending his finger towards the spoon. “You said you wanted to learn, keep practicing. It’s almost time for dinner.”

Leaning gently into Carl, Negan watches Peter practice, trying to give a few pointers of his own when the helmsman drops the spoon for the second time. By the time the dinner bell rings, Peter is better than he was but now complains of achy fingers.

“Meet you back in the cabin for dinner?” Negan asks Carl as they descend the steps to the lower deck. There’s a flicker of light through the windows on the cabin doors, Dwight already within and moving around.

“Mhm,” Carl hums, already turning to descend into the galley for their food.

It doesn’t take long for him to retrieve the tray from Cook and make his way to the captain’s cabin. It seems they’ve finally started to run low on some of the salt-preserved meat because the man has finally broken into the live crab. The crab and corn chowder is mouth watering enough that he contemplates stealing his lovers’ portions for a brief moment only to push the door open instead.

He’s greeted with the sight of Negan in his chair and Dwight sitting on Negan’s desk in front of him. Negan’s hands are resting on Dwight’s thighs as he looks up at his first mate, nodding along to whatever he is saying. They both stop and look over as Carl enters, smiling at him.

“Mm… What did you bring? It smells delicious,” Dwight says, trying to wiggle his way off the desk though Negan’s grip won’t allow it.

“It looks like crab and corn chowder,” Carl answers, bringing the tray over to balance on a clear part of the desk, “and I’ll be honest I considered absconding to the crows nest with all three servings.”

“Don’t you dare,” Negan says with a laugh, finally releasing Dwight so he can jump down and make room. “It does smell delicious. Hope Cook made enough for seconds. Think this might be a popular order.”

Dwight ruffles Negan’s hair before heading to his chair, skimming his fingers over Carl’s shoulders as he passes.

“The bowls are pretty full up,” the boy points out as he starts dishing them up, “but I’m sure if he knew we all loved it he’d make it again.”

Negan hums in delight, thanking Carl as he’s handed his bowl. He hardly waits before digging in, groaning like a man come undone at the first bite. “Oh, fuck. That’s good.”

“Thank you, love,” Dwight says, taking his bowl from Carl, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of it in his hands.

Carl settles in his own chair, bowl cradled in his hands as he begins to dig in. A soft groan leaves him as the flavor slides over his taste buds. “Oh, I’m going to need this again.”

There’s murmurs of agreement from the other two, though their focus is mainly on their delicious dinner. It’s a comfortable silence as they eat, pleased to have good food and good company.

Dwight takes up his mug when he’s done with his meal, sighing into his chair. “Mm… I could get used to meals like that. Remind me to make sure we have those ingredients stocked at all times.”

“A chowder here and there would be nice,” Carl says as he trades his bowl for his mug. “I wonder if he was able to because he saved the water ration from this morning with the coconut water.”

“Perhaps. You’ll have to interrogate him to find out,” Negan says with a laugh, patting his belly. “Either way, it was delicious. Compliments to Cook and all his helpers, including you, dear.”

“I’ll pass it along, though I didn’t help today to be clear,” Carl says, finishing off his drink and setting the empty cup on the tray.

“No, but you helped with the coconuts, thus leading us here to delicious crab,” Negan says with a laugh, setting his own mug down. He hums and reaches towards Carl, gesturing for him to come closer. “I want dessert now. C’mere and sit with me, pet?”

Carl laughs softly, getting to his feet. “One of us has to take the tray back, you know.”

“It can wait,” Negan says, eyeing Carl up. “I just want to hold something sweet awhile.”

“I’d say flattery will get you nowhere, but I suppose that’s proven wrong,” Carl hums, shedding his jacket and sword belt into the chair before rounding the desk.

Chuckling, Negan makes grabbing hands at Carl as he gets closer. “Flattery will get you so many places, I don’t know who steered you wrong.” He gets a hand on Carl’s hip and tugs him in, feeling the velvet patterns on his pants. “Oh, these are nice. I didn’t get to touch this earlier.”

Carl props his hands on the man’s shoulders so he can straddle him without falling over. “Might be my favorite pants I’ve ever had.”

Negan purrs in delight at the way Carl positions himself in his lap, running his hands over Carl’s thighs to trace the soft shapes there. “They look good on you. Feel good on you. I’d say they’re pretty high on my favorite pants list, right next to ‘none’.”

Carl hums. “How did I know you were going to say that? Lecher.”

“You love it,” Negan purrs, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. He wraps his arms around Carl’s waist and draws him in, pressing a kiss to Carl’s cheek before nuzzling his face into Carl’s neck.

“I suppose I do,” the boy agrees, tilting his head to give the man better access.

From over Carl’s shoulder, Negan makes eye contact with Dwight. The two share a silent conversation before Dwight stands up and comes around the desk, sitting where he’d been when Carl had first entered.

Carl hears the shuffling from behind him and though he knows they can all fit in this chair without it breaking, he spares a thought for the bed where whatever this is - be it them curling up together or getting frisky - would be much more comfortable.

Negan hums softly, rubbing his bearded cheek against Carl’s jaw for just a moment before pulling back enough to allow Carl to see Dwight as he quietly says, “Dear lad, we have a bit of a question for you.”

“Of course,” Carl says, hands drifting up to scratch through Negan’s hair. He has to admit he’s a little confused about Negan prefacing first.

Negan can’t help but closing his eyes and pressing into the touch, acting like a big cat getting pet where he loves best. “Listen to Dwight,” he mumbles, trying to shake himself out of the lull Carl is putting him under.

“Well, I certainly listen to him better than I listen to you most days,” Carl jokes softly, continuing to massage Negan’s scalp with his nails and the pads of his fingers.

Negan huffs a laugh, smiling as he reaches up to take one of Carl’s hands in his and tug it gently away. He keeps hold of it as from the other side, Dwight, who has stood from the desk, reaches out to take Carl’s other. They both squeeze the hand of Carl’s they’re holding and look at him with warm smiles.

“We want to ask,” Dwight says again. “If you remember kissing our hands the other night and this morning? We know that’s… significant to you, and want to understand if it meant something more or if we’re just thinking too hard.”

For some utterly ridiculous reason, Carl doesn’t even tense up. He feels like he should, caught out like this, but he doesn’t. It’s just as easy to be between these two men now as it was this morning.

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t mean it,” Carl replies. He means to tack something else on, a reminder that he knows it’s not the same for them or that it doesn’t make sense because they’re three pirates. He doesn’t.

Elation washes over Negan and Dwight at Carl’s words. They might not inherently understand the gesture, but they understand the feelings behind it. The significance it holds for Carl.

They are only too glad to share with him that they feel the same.

Together, Negan and Dwight bring Carl’s hand that they’re holding up to their lips and press a kiss to his knuckles. Dwight’s closing his eyes like he does when he kisses on the lips, but Negan’s eyes are open and locked on Carl’s expression.

Carl swallows, flushing dark, unable to cover his face up with his hands held like this. He swallows, hands squeezing theirs, bereft of words.

Negan trails his lips to press another kiss to the backs of Carl’s fingers, smiling against them. Dwight opens his eyes to look at Carl, shifting his hand to press another kiss to Carl’s palm.

“This okay?” Negan whispers, eyes tracking Carl’s face intently.

It’s like Carl finally remembers how to breathe, filling his chest with air and shivering at the sensation. “Yeah, it’s okay,” is almost a whisper as he breathes out again.

“Good.” Unfolding Carl’s fingers, Negan gets to work pressing soft kisses to each tip until he ends at the thumb. He presses his cheek into Carl’s palm and nuzzles in there.

Dwight watches with affection in his eyes, trailing his own lips down to Carl’s wrist and back up. “We just want you to know that we mean it too. We feel the same, dear.”

The whole situation feels intensely intimate. Not that they aren’t intimate all the time, but his hands are another thing, and it’s all making him a bit squirmy.

“I’m glad,” Carl responds softly, stroking his thumb over Negan’s prickly cheek as he angles his gaze to meet Dwight’s eyes.

Dwight chuckles softly and leans in to press a kiss to Carl’s cheek. “Good, lad.”

“Had Dwight worryin’ himself to death for a while there,” Negan says, his free hand finding those velvet swirls on Carl’s leg again. “Can’t let him think too much or he goes in spirals.”

“It’s good we got it cleared up then,” Carl hums, tugging Dwight down to give him a real kiss.

“Mhm,” Dwight hums in agreement against Carl’s lips, kissing back with a smile.

When Carl finally pulls back from the kiss he feels more settled. He leans down to kiss Negan next, unable to wipe the stupid grin from his mouth.

Negan laughs softly into the kiss, nipping playfully at Carl’s lips as he pulls away. “Ah, we should throw a party. Wish we had some of that bubbly wine Ezekiel gave us. Can you even imagine what he’s going to think the next time he sees us?” Negan loops his arms around Carl’s waist and squeezes softly. “Carl still looked like a royal rich boy back then.”

Carl can’t help but laugh, head falling back a bit with the force of it. He tries to get control of himself, covering his mouth with the hand that had been on Negan’s jaw. “Could let him throw the party. Then we wouldn’t have to clean up.”

“Aye! There’s an idea!” Negan grins, bouncing his eyebrows and laughing along with Carl. Dwight joins in softly, running his hand through Carl’s hair.

“I don’t think I’d mind a little party. We’ll have so much to tell him by time we’re back, treasure in hand, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Negan jostles Carl slightly in his excitement. “The answer to his map, and Carl, the greatest treasure of all.”

Carl snorts. “As bad as that line is, I do agree. I’ll be glad to see him again.”

Treasure or not, he’s enjoyed this whole adventure tremendously and he gets the feeling that with Negan’s storytelling skills the king would enjoy hearing about it.

“I will as well,” Dwight says. “And glad to see those beds. Mm.” He sighs just thinking about the nice, big beds in the castle.

“I’ll be glad for the food,” Negan says with a groan, head thunking back against his chair. “Zeke really knows how to put on a feast.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind a trip to the bath house again,” Carl adds in with a pleasant hum.

“Mm, yeah. Can bring more of your delicious soap, and we can soak for hours,” Negan says, his hands going to Carl’s waist and squeezing him gently.

“Maybe not hours, but yes. The bath house is a favorite of mine as well.” Dwight reaches out to tug gently on a lock of Carl’s hair.

“Well, so long as Negan doesn’t try to eat any of the soap,” Carl jokes, leaning in to the touch, “then I certainly have no objections to staying there as long as possible.”

Negan snorts a laugh and leans in to playfully nibble at Carl’s jaw. “I’ll eat you up, ay? My little sweet treat.”

“That’s awful,” Carl groans.

Dwight rolls his eyes affectionately. “I’ll go take the tray back now while you enjoy some dessert.” He leans down to press a kiss to Carl’s head before making his way back around the desk. “I’ll be back.”

“Guess that makes me dessert,” the boy says, shaking his head affectionately.

“You bet it does, baby boy,” Negan says with a hungry grin as the door closes behind Dwight. He squeezes at Carl’s thighs, trying to tug him ever closer in the chair. “What do you say to me getting you outta these fancy pants? Moving to the bed? Hm?”

Carl puts on an exaggerated thinking face for a moment enjoying the light mood they’ve cultivated. “I suppose I’d be amenable to that.”

“You suppose,” Negan says with a laugh, hands traveling to the front of Carl’s pants in an attempt to undo them. “Anything else you suppose you’d be amenable to?”

Carl leans back a little to shimmy his shirt off over his head, not wanting it to end up somewhere on the floor. “Suppose you’ll just have to try your luck.”

Negan hums, distracted by the skin suddenly on display. He’s got Carl’s pants popped open but he can’t resist the temptation of Carl’s bare torso, running his hands up Carl’s sides and leaning in to kiss down the line of his collarbones.

Carl hums softly, not so carefully reaching back to drop the shirt on the desk. He’ll have to get off of Negan’s lap to take his bottoms and boots off, so he’s in no big hurry.

Carl is warm beneath Negan’s big hands, so soft and pliant against his lips as he tastes Carl. He slides his hands up to cup under Carl’s chest, feeling the bones of his ribs just beneath, the way they expand and contract with each of his breaths. Negan presses his lips over Carl’s pounding heart and can’t help but revel in how alive Carl is.

“You’re being awfully,” Carl pauses, humming happily at the soft kisses that are peppered up his sternum, trying to find the words, “patient this evening.”

“Just savoring my dessert,” Negan says, sliding his hands to Carl’s back and feeling up into his shoulder blades with one and down into the curve of his lower back with the other. “Just wanna touch you. Feel you. Taste you. You’re so decadent for me.”

Carl laughs softly even as he leans into each touch, preening under the rasp of Negan’s hands against his bare skin. “A little much, but I guess I’ll take the compliment.”

“Have you met me? I’m pretty sure ‘much’ is in my description,” Negan says, chuckling low. He pushes his one hand lower, slipping it under the waist band of Carl’s pants and smalls, eager to grab a handful.

Carl hums his agreement, plucking at Negan’s shirt as he man palms his ass. “You could get me out of these if you let me up, you know.”

“Mm, I know.” Negan mouths against Carl’s jaw, giving his ass a squeeze before extracting his hand. “You’re just so… mm.” He kisses him once more before pulling back, letting his hands fall away reluctantly. “If you want those pants to stay clean, you best get them off quick.”

“Incorrigible, I swear,” Carl says fondly, slipping out of Negan’s lap to lean against the desk so he can begin the process of removing the rest of his clothes.

Negan watches with a gleam in his eyes, licking his lips as more skin is revealed to him. “Can you blame me when you look so ravishing, my lovely pet?” He works his own shirt off to give his hands something to do, unbuckling his belt next.

Carl can’t control the flush that stains his face, glaring weakly at the man before shuffling off his trousers and smalls to leave them with his shirt on the desk. He spares a thought to wonder what’s taking Dwight so long and how fast they can get him out of his clothes when he comes back.

“Fuck, look at you.” Negan gives up undoing his pants to lean forward and slide his hands up Carl’s bare thighs, squeezing the soft flesh and ogling the way his cock fits so perfectly there between them. “God, makes me wanna just bite into you. Sink my teeth in and never let go.”

Carl shivers, leaning more heavily against the desk. “That might make some things hard.”

“Make me hard,” Negan says with a giggle, leaning in to press a kiss to Carl’s belly. “Let’s get you to the bed, hm? Wanna spread you out. Get a good look.”

Just then the door opens and Dwight shuffles his way back in. He’s surprised for only a second at the sight greeting him before he smiles and bites his lip. “I see I’ve missed some things.”

“He’s certainly succeeded in getting me out of my pants,” Carl huffs, red faced as he reaches up to unravel his bandages. He’s not exactly sure how welcome it is, but he doesn’t want to get them sweaty as these ones are some of the last few clean ones they have.

Negan looks ecstatic as the bandages come off, watching with unmasked glee. “More than just his pants.”

“Well, good then. What’s on tap for tonight then?” Dwight asks, plucking off his own shirt and boots before making his way around the desk to get an eyeful of Carl.

Carl isn’t entirely comfortable with the staring so he averts his gaze as he sets the bandages aside, reaching out to help with Dwight’s trousers. “I’m not exactly in charge here.”

“Of course you are, love,” Dwight says with a laugh, stepping closer to make it easier for Carl to undress him. “Whatever you say goes, and if you don’t like something, we don’t do it. You hold so much power.”

Negan nods enthusiastically in reply, just watching the show before him.

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Carl comments, looping his fingers behind the waistband of Dwight’s trousers and smalls. He tugs them down, following them down to kneel and pull them away when Dwight steps out of them.

Negan snorts softly, twirling a finger into Carl’s hair. “It’s not work. Not when it’s you. Not when it’s Dwight.” He stands up and brings Dwight in for a kiss, pulling a soft moan from him. “It’s just what comes natural from knowing each other and being together.”

Since he’s already knelt, Carl reaches out to pull Negan’s pants off as well. He waits until they’ve pulled away from the kiss to speak, not wanting to distract from each other. “I meant being in charge.”

“That’s what I’m talking about too,” Negan says with a chuckle, kicking away his pants and then reaching to help Carl stand up. “We’re all in charge in our own ways.” He takes Carl’s chin in hand and leans in to kiss him next.

Dwight gently gives them a nudge. “Let’s take it to bed, boys.”

Carl hums noncommittally, moving towards the bed. He slides one knee onto the mattress and leans into it, sitting at the end of the bed with a foot on the floor. He looks up to the two waiting for any indication of what they want to do.

Taking charge to put on a little show for Negan is one thing, but he’s not exactly comfortable seconding the whole thing or making demands right now.

Dwight crawls into the bed next, receiving a soft smack to his ass as he does so. Dwight lets out a chirp of surprise, batting a hand back at Negan. “Honestly.”

“You put it in front of me. Don’t know what else you thought I’d do,” Negan says, reaching out to pet Carl, gently scratching down his scalp. “And you, waiting so pretty-like. What a good boy you are.”

Carl shudders, a fissure of pleasure dancing up his spine at the praise. He leans into the touch with a soft sound.

“A wonderful boy,” Dwight says, coming up beside Carl to lean against him and kiss his cheek.

Negan purrs, looking at the two of them in his bed. How he gets to enjoy this, he’ll never understand. Some deity out there must really like him.

He reaches out to pet Dwight as well, feeling good having a hand on both his boys. “You two look amazing together. My two beauties.”

Carl leans in to Dwight, enjoying the warm skin on skin contact. Perhaps if he didn’t also think the blond was one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen, he would question Negan’s tastes. In any other eyes Dwight and Carl might be too damaged to even look at for long.

“Are you planning to just watch then?” Carl asks faux innocently.

“Mm, I could,” Negan says, trailing his fingers down to curl under each of their chins. “Watching you two together could never be boring.” He directs their faces together like he’s playing with dolls, grinning when their lips touch.

Carl presses into the kiss without fanfare, angling his head to slide their lips together loosely.

Dwight hums, closing his eyes as he kisses back, reaching up to cup Carl’s cheek and hold him steady. The bed shifts as Negan climbs in, pressing himself to the back wall to give himself a front row seat to the show he created.

Carl spreads a hand along the back of Dwight’s neck, tangling his fingers in the other man’s hair and opening himself up for the man’s tongue. These kisses seem to always lead to something more, and he feels far more on level ground now.

Dwight breathes a soft noise into Carl’s mouth, licking inside with glee. His hands fall to Carl’s waist, squeezing gently as he enjoys the feel of Carl's warm skin.

Carl takes that as encouragement to slide closer on the bed, sliding his tongue against Dwight’s and trapping it against the roof of his mouth for a moment with a soft suck.

Dwight whines softly and practically melts into Carl, letting him lead them in their dance.

Negan watches on from the sidelines, hand on his cock, slowly stroking himself. His eyes roam every inch of his lovers, seeking out the places they touch and come together. The way Carl’s skin dips where Dwight’s fingers press. The view of Dwight’s blonde hair tangled in Carl’s lithe fingers. Everything about them is beautiful and arousing.

Dwight’s whine slips into Carl’s bones like liquid pleasure, egging him on. He rehooks his arm around Dwight, sliding forward so they’re practically chest to chest and he can rub his tongue across the blonde’s licking into his mouth.

Part of his brain drifts to Dwight’s hands on him. He’d seen Negan press his fingers into the first mate before, would Dwight do the same to him? How would it feel? Certainly they would be easier to take than Negan’s being as thin as they are.

Dwight groans softly, breaking the kiss briefly to pant heavily, dragging air into his lungs as he runs his hands up and down Carl’s back. “God, you’re good at that,” he mumbles, trying to drag Carl even closer as he reconnects their mouths.

He should be good at it. It’s what he had the most experience in before he met these two after all.

Carl nips the man’s bottom lip, letting his other arm come up to wrap around him as well so that he can arch into Dwight’s touch. He knows he’s already hard in a distant sort of way, more focused on rolling his tongue against Dwight’s and dragging the tip against the sensitive roof of the blonde’s mouth.

Pleasure rolls down Dwight’s spine, making him shiver and moan. He loves how Carl kisses him and touches him. It’s different from Negan, but no less amazing.

Holding on tight to Carl, Dwight leans back and drags Carl with him, lying back on the bed with Carl overtop. He keeps kissing Carl throughout, licking over his teeth and tongue all the while.

Carl lets out a small, shocked noise into Dwight’s mouth, pulling back just enough that their teeth don’t clack together. He finds himself giggling softly at the other man’s excitement, nipping just barely at the blonde’s tongue as he resituates himself.

The movement has him bucking against Dwight’s hip and gasping at the stimulation, digging his fingers into the bed next to the man’s head.

“Mm… You hard, lad? All for me?” Dwight murmurs against Carl’s lips, sliding his hands down to Carl’s hips and then some. He tilts his head back to breathe for a moment, baring his throat to Carl.

“Yes, for you, yes,” Carl pants softly against the bared skin. He scrapes his teeth along Dwight’s windpipe until he can gently wrap his lips around the man’s adams apple and suck.

“Ah!” Dwight moans low, shuddering under Carl. Heat runs through him, his own cock leaking against his belly. Pressing his fingers into Carl’s hips, he encourages him to thrust down to grind their cocks together.

And Carl does, rolling his hips against Dwight’s and digging his teeth into the jut of the man’s collarbone. “Lord, listen to you.”

“Doesn’t he sound amazing?” Negan says as Dwight lets out another whine and moan. “He’s always so loud. So noisy. Especially when he’s getting fucked.” Negan bites his lip, squeezing the base of his dick to stave off the sudden rush from the thought of Carl fucking Dwight in front at him.

Carl hums, it would be thoughtful if it didn’t have half a moan hidden in it from their rocking hips. “He does sound pretty when you fuck him.”

“Nn… Ah…” Dwight squeezes his knees together, gripping tighter to Carl as he rocks up into him. “Carl…”

“Listen to that. Saying your name. Oh, that’s good,” Negan says, leaning in a little to get a better look. “You wanna fuck him, pet? He’ll scream your name if you do. Wanna sink into him?”

“That what you want, dear heart?” It’s not exactly how he pictured this, not that he really preplanned any of this at all, but Carl isn’t upset about it. He pulls away a little, hovering so he won’t get off before he’s ready, and reaches for the pillows.

Dwight nods up at him enthusiastically. “I want it if you do, love.”

Between the three of them there’s a knife, a book, and a vial of oil in this bed at any given moment. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will do just fine,” Dwight says with a breath of a laugh. He looks over to Negan and smiles. “And you are enjoying, yes?”

“Oh, yeah. Don’t worry about me. I’m doing fucking great,” Negan says, fisting his hands in the bed for a moment to release some tension. “Do you want me to walk you through anything, pet? Have you done this before?”

“Walk me through it,” Carl tells the man earnestly before biting down on the cork and pulling it out. He certainly knows how to slick up his fingers, and he wants the coconut oil to be warm when he puts them in Dwight.

“Alright, we’ll take it slow so you get the feel for it, and get Dwight good and ready for you, okay?” Negan says, shifting slightly on the bed to hover closer. “You want him on his back like this, or on his hands and knees?”

Carl doesn’t particularly like Negan asking him to make all these decisions to be perfectly honest, but he’s not going to voice that when he’s on uncertain ground. He takes a breath as he recorks the vial and sets it aside, rubbing his dry hand across Dwight’s thigh. “Like this is fine.”

“Okay, pet. Then, here. We’re gonna tuck this up under his hips.” Negan grabs a pillow and hooks his hand under Dwight’s closest knee, tugging it back to his chest. Dwight whines softly and replaces Negan’s hand with his own, holding his leg up and out of the way before he does the same with the other one. Negan pushes the pillow up under him before patting Dwight on the ass.

“Good job, love. Keep yourself nice and spread like that for Carl, okay?”

“Yeah. Mm… I got it,” Dwight says, adjusting his hands under his knees and curling his toes.

“Good. Okay, pet, got your slick? Go on and get Dwight nice and wet. Start with one finger.”

Carl’s breathing is not in any way even, even if he tries to make it sound that way. The sight of Dwight all spread out in front of him is enough to make him lightheaded, blood in his body not able to decide between staining his face red or making his prick harder.

He reaches forward, light and careful, rubbing two of his slicked up fingers against the pink furl of Dwight’s hole. He feels punched out, and he feels like he’s bitten off more than he can chew, gasping softly when he slowly presses his middle finger into the heat.

“There you go, love. Nice and easy. Breathe. You’re doing good,” Negan says softly from beside Carl. He reaches out and places his hand to Carl’s back, feeling the way his breathing and heart flutters. “Take your time. Don’t push yourself. Dwight likes it slow anyway, don’t you, love?”

Dwight sighs softly and hums in agreement, trying to relax for Carl as he looks down to watch.

There’s a good part of Carl, the part of him that hails from being born of a devout town, that believes the devil made these two just for him. He can’t say he minds, entranced in the stretch of golden skin in front of him, sliding his finger in and out of Dwight’s heat.

Negan’s touch only serves to make him more breathless. He tries to ground himself with his dry hand, reaching out to touch the back of Dwight’s thigh and rub patterns on the thin skin with his thumb.

“You’re doing so well, love. So good. When you feel ready, and when you think Dwight is ready, go ahead and add another. If you’re unsure if he’s ready, go on and ask him,” Negan says, reaching out to brush some of the hair from Dwight’s eyes.

Dwight makes a soft noise and pushes into Negan’s hand, eyes still cast down on Carl. He’s being very patient because it’s obviously Carl’s first time, but Dwight can’t remember the last time he’s gone this slow. It’s such a tease, and he knows Negan knows it.

Carl doesn’t ask. He’s seen how quickly Dwight and Negan can get to it after all. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t gentle when he slides his second finger in, crooking his fingers up and getting a sense of the space.

The back of his neck feels like it might catch fire and there’s a lasting sense that he’s going to mess this up somehow. Neither thing stops his want from coiling in his chest.

Dwight sighs and drops his head back, whining softly. “Oh, you’re so close… Please, please…”

“Curl your fingers up a little more, pet,” Negan purrs into Carl’s ear, eyes locked on the place where Carl’s fingers sink into Dwight. “A little deeper. You’ll feel it, and he’ll feel it.” Negan can’t help reaching out to slide his hand along the back of Dwight’s other thigh, feeling the way he twitches softly.

Carl shivers at the sensation of Negan’s voice pressed right into his ear. He readjusts slightly, shifting his fingers in further and bending them to rub the pads against Dwight’s slick, hot insides. It’s filthy, but Carl can feel himself getting twitchy and impatient already.

With a jolt and a whine, Dwight almost loses hold of his legs, eyes squeezing shut as a lick of pleasure runs up his spine as Carl manages to bump that spot inside.

“There you go, Carl. Good. Aim for that when you’ve got your dick in him, yeah?” Negan licks his lips, squeezing into the meat of Dwight’s thigh. “Go ahead and open up your fingers inside there. Really stretch him out. Get him nice and loose and wet. Add more oil if you need. Can never have too much.”

Carl spreads his fingers, committing the spot to memory. He knows it will feel different and probably be harder with his prick rather than his fingers.

He does reach for the oil again when he thinks Dwight might be ready for a third finger. He’s careful not to spill any but he’s not cheap about it like Negan suggested. Slowly, he presses the third finger into the blond, watching for any indication of discomfort even as he slides his fingers deep and curls his fingers up - easier now with his three fingers inside.

“Oh, fuck! Ah… Yes, that’s good, Carl. So good,” Dwight moans, rocking back slightly into Carl’s fingers as he gets used to the stretch. Carl’s fingers are nowhere near Negan’s size, so it’s a pleasant pull rather than the quick and rough way Negan tends to prefer. Not that Dwight minds either way.

“Mm, look at him. Writhing on your fingers. It’s good isn’t it? You can stroke his cock a little too, if you want, but careful he doesn’t blow too soon.” Negan chuckles, moving his hand from Dwight’s thigh to his chest to squeeze at one of his pecs and draw out another mewl from him. Negan smiles, eyes tracing every bit of Dwight’s expression. “Such a beautiful creature.”

“Pretty,” Carl breathes in agreement. He reaches up, flattening his palm over the length of Dwight’s cock and pressing it against his stomach. It won’t be enough to get him off, but every little movement will grind it against Carl’s palm. It’s something he does to himself on occasion, though much less since joining the Lucille.

“O-oh!” Dwight’s hips rock even harder, chasing the duel sensations of Carl’s hand on his cock and Carl’s fingers inside of him. It’s amazing and maddening all at once. Everything feels great, but nothing is enough.

Carl can’t help but be glad that Dwight is so worked up. Aside from it being the most stunning sight, it helps with some of the first time fear of not doing this well or finishing up too fast. Carl hums, twitches his fingers up again, and grinds the ball of his palm against the base of Dwight’s cock.

“Gorgeous, dear heart,” the boy can’t help but breathe, eyes tracing all over the trembling man’s form.

Dwight shudders hard and whines, his grip on his legs slipping. Negan is quick to catch the one on his side, gently shushing Dwight as he keeps it up for him. “Carl, please. Carl… Dear… Please, fuck me. I need it. So bad, please,” Dwight babbles, grabbing at the bedding now that his hands are free.

“You heard him,” Negan says, petting his free hand down Carl’s hair. “You ready, pet?”

“Yeah.” He’s as ready as he can be anyway.

Carl shudders, heat saturating his whole body and burning down his spine. He’s gentle when he pulls his fingers out and grabs the oil again to slick himself up. The cool touch of the oil helps him settle a bit and calm down.

He kneels up a little, scooting closer on the bed and positioning himself how he’s supposed to. Taking a steadying breath, he looks to Negan for something. A go ahead, an instruction, even an encouragement.

Negan smiles and leans in to kiss Carl gently, sliding his hand down Carl’s back. Negan can’t help but remember his own first time. The nerves, the excitement. He’s glad he gets to be here for Carl’s to help him through it. “You got this, love. He’s begging for ya. Go on.”

The first press inside is like nothing he’s ever felt before and it leaves Carl gasping, "Oh", voice strained and airy. He has to anchor himself on Dwight’s hip with his dry hand as he presses inside, slow and steady. He knows that his size is not a problem in comparison to Negan but if he doesn’t go slow for the first push he thinks he might forget how to breathe.

“That’s it, lad. Mm…” Dwight bites his lip around a moan as he sets his leg around Carl’s hips, trying not to squeeze and pull him in.

A very, very distant part of Carl’s brain is saying that this is a terrible idea and he’s going to disappoint them. Only, that part of his brain isn’t the one that’s in charge right now because literally all Carl can focus on is how Dwight feels squeezing around his prick.

“Christ,” Carl pants out, swallowing to try and get a hold of himself. He rocks his hips, trying to find a more natural motion.

“You’re doing perfect, love. Just perfect,” Negan says with a groan, distracted by the sight before him. His hand is back on his own dick, going at Carl’s pace so he can pretend to feel it too.

“Perfect,” Dwight parrots, head falling back as a soft whine escapes his throat. “Want you. All of you. Please, please.”

Carl lets a miserable sounding keen slip, pressing forward until he’s fully seated within the man. He drops his forehead down against the leg Negan is still holding and shivers at the sensation. “‘M gonna be too fast.”

“Shh, shh. That’s okay, love,” Negan coos, pressing a kiss to Carl’s temple. “Take a minute. Breathe. Just goes to show how good Dwight feels, yeah?” He smiles against Carl’s hair, looking sidelong at Dwight.

“It’s okay to be fast, dear,” Dwight pants out, feeling satisfactorily full up of Carl and trying so hard not to rock his hips. “You’re doing excellent. Just, mm… As long as it feels good for you. I want you to come in me, okay? Whenever that may be.”

“Good Christ, you’re both killing me,” the boy mumbles into the blond’s leg.

He takes in a shaky breath and wraps his still semi-slick hand around Dwight’s cock deciding that he can at least get the man a little closer as he rapidly approaches his own climax. It’s not so different to roll his hips the way he usually does when he’s grinding against one of them, he just has to pull back a little more. He tries to match the pace of his hand to those jerky movements.

“Oh… Yes. Yes, Carl,” Dwight groans as he jolts from the pleasure. He hums as Negan places down his leg so he can wrap both loosely around Carl’s waist, feeling his uneven thrusts. There’s something so nice about the inexperience, about being the first person Carl’s entered. Dwight can’t help but feel honored to have the privilege.

Carl moans, wrecked and cracked open by the experience. His dry hand finds its way to Dwight’s hip, trying not to dig in too roughly and only slightly succeeding.

“Dwight,” he whines, eye clenching shut and head falling forward a bit. His hand works over the man’s cock with much more skill than his rocking hips, but he does honestly try to find that place again, the one Dwight liked before.

Dwight moans Carl’s name back, shivering and clenching down around him everytime he manages to hit that bundle of nerves inside. Dwight knows with time and practice Carl will get better, but it honestly does feel so good with what he’s doing right now.

Reaching up a shaking hand, Dwight cups Carl’s cheek and tilts his head up to see his pretty face. His pink lips are open and panting in ecstasy, pupil in his one blue eye blown wide. Dwight feels a surge of warmth knowing he helped put that expression there.

“Fuck, Carl. Yeah. Harder, please. Please, please.”

Carl turns his face into Dwight’s palm, planting a messy kiss right in the center. A trembling breath escapes him as he steadies himself and does as the man told him.

Going harder makes the spring of arousal at the base of his spine coil tighter. He tries to balance it out, twisting his hand around Dwight’s cock.

“Ah!” Trembling with every thrust, Dwight melts into a litany of moans and whines and Carl’s name. His eyes clench shut as pleasure runs up his spine, twisting the spring in his lower belly tighter and tighter.

“Can’t,” the boy gasps around a moan, body starting to tense. What rhythm he has is becoming looser by the second as he hurdles towards climax. “‘M coming.”

“Yes, come. Carl, fill me up,” Dwight pants out, forcing his eyes open so he can watch Carl as he tips over the edge.

The moan that falls from his mouth when he tips over the edge is half a sob. His hips jerk and his grip around Dwight’s cock loosens for a few seconds as all the pressure suddenly releases. It feels strange, he thinks distantly, to climax inside someone like this.

He sags a little, whimpering at the sensitivity of it all. His brain is all orgasm fogged, hand working mechanically over Dwight’s cock as he leans forward to pant against the blonde’s ribs.

“Oh, fuck…” The spring inside Dwight snaps at the feel of Carl’s cock pulsing inside him. The idea of being filled to the brim by Carl blankets over his mind as he comes, washing warmth over him in waves. It leaves him panting and dazed, but pleasantly blissed out.

It takes a moment for his brain to come back online and then he’s pawing at Carl’s face, trying to drag him closer for a kiss. “C’mere, love.”

The kiss is a mess. Really they’re both a mess. Carl doesn’t care though, just leans into the man and kisses back for all he’s worth, a little sluggish but still wanting.

“So good,” Dwight whispers into Carl’s mouth as their lips slide against each other’s. “You did so good.” He’s distantly aware of the sound of Negan groaning, probably coming all over his fist, but Dwight can’t find the strength to turn his head away from Carl just yet.

Carl shivers at the praise, sucking at the man’s bottom lip so that he doesn’t say anything embarrassing. The overstimulation has him trembling as he pulls out, fingers flexing on the blonde’s hip.

“Ah…” Dwight squeezes his legs around Carl as the movement sends another jolt through him. He relaxes with a sigh, running his hands down Carl’s chest. “Gonna look at your job well done? You got me so full I’m leaking.” Dwight’s used to Negan being the dirty lech he is, so the words just come naturally without him thinking if Carl actually would like to see his cum spilling out of Dwight.

A whine escapes the boy and he glares without heat or intention. He starts talking without thinking, probably still too cum drunk to reserve his words. “Dear heart, I can get going again embarrassingly fast if you keep talking like him.”

“Hey, now. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” Negan huffs softly, his eyes trained down near their hips where he’s trying to get his own look.

Dwight blinks and then laughs softly, squeezing Carl again. “I’m sorry. You’ve got my mind going fuzzy. I didn’t think,” he says, pressing a kiss to Carl’s jaw. “Not that I would mind if you wanted to go another round, but it would be more for your sake.”

“Don’t apologize,” Carl mumbles, face red. “If we were closer to a bathhouse I might’ve offered to clean up the mess,” he tacks on, flicking his tongue out to lick one of the faded marks on Dwight’s collar for emphasis.

“Mm… Now who’s gonna get who going again?” Dwight says with a shiver and a laugh. He rolls his head over to look at Negan, reaching his hand out towards him. Negan catches it easily and brings it up to press a kiss to Dwights palm.

“I see you’re done as well.” Dwight’s eyes flick to the cum spattered across Negan’s belly. “Was gonna offer myself up for seconds.”

“Goddamn… And you call me the whore,” Negan snorts with a grin, the idea of sinking into Dwight after he’s been fucked by Carl already taking root in Negan’s mind. “Next time. We do that next time.”

Carl hums tiredly trying to summon the energy to move because they all at least need a wipe down with a wet washcloth. “And here I thought next time was my turn.”

Negan chokes softly, eyes going wide as Carl’s words register. “We can do that too,” he says, reaching out to run his hand down Carl’s back. “Oh, we can do that too.”

“How did you like this time, love? Good for you? Have a good time?” Dwight asks, petting his free hand over Carl’s hair.

“Was nice,” Carl answers, the best part was probably who he was with rather than what he was doing. If he does it again he thinks it will be less nerve wracking but this time… “Was a lot of pressure. Didn’t want to mess up.”

“There’s not much to mess up,” Dwight says, smiling softly. “But I understand. It felt good for me. You did very well. Did having Negan talk you through it help?”

“Mhm,” Carl shifts, looking at Negan through his lashes. “Didn’t touch me as much as he normally does though.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Negan says softly, swirling his fingers over Carl’s skin. “I knew it was going to be a lot since it was your first time and all. Didn’t wanna overwhelm ya by also getting my hands on you.”

“Interrupt,” Carl repeats incredulously. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”

Negan snorts and barks out a laugh, brushing back Carl’s hair so he can see all of his face. “Listen! I was trying to be helpful!” He traces under Carl’s eye socket with his thumb carefully. “Plus, I like watchin’ sometimes. It’s fun. But, fine. Next time you get to fuck Dwight, I’ll get my hands all over you, huh? How’s that?”

Carl shivers, unable to turn his flushed face away from the touch. “You could get your hands all over us right now with a wash cloth,” he snarks.

“Uh huh. Uh huh. I see how it is.” Negan chuckles and shifts, leaning down to press a kiss to Carl’s cheek and then to Dwight’s lips before he climbs off the bed in search for a wash cloth and some water.

Dwight hums softly as he twists some of Carl’s hair around his finger. “Who do you want to take you as your first, lad? When the time comes. Any preference?” he asks softly, lips pressed to the top of Carl’s head.

“Doesn’t really matter to me,” Carl shrugs, enjoying the soft tugging at his hair. “Love you both the same an’ all.”

A yawn interrupts him and he curses always being so sleepy after he climaxes. “Guess you would be easier to take for the first time, but I’m greedy.”

“So is he,” Dwight says with a smirk, eyeing Negan as he digs through rags to find a clean one. “Even when he acts like he’s not.” He kisses Carl again, feeling warm from the reminder that he loves them. “Think we should give the honor to him. I’m not much for that position anyway.”

That’s fair, Carl knows it’s a lot of pressure even if it’s really pleasurable. “He’s going to have to be slower with me than he is with you.”

“He will be. Trust me. He knows he can’t just jump into it with you,” Dwight says with a soft chuckle. “He goes fast and hard with me because we both know I can handle it, and because we both like it.”

“Course I trust you,” the boy huffs. If he didn’t they wouldn’t be here. “It’s nice to watch, that’s for sure.”

“I’m sure it is.” Dwight grins, wrapping his arms around Carl and squeezing just as Negan arrives with a damp cloth in hand.

“Alright, separate now so I can get the spunk of ya.”

Carl pecks Dwight’s chest before backing off unsteady on his knees for a moment. He shuts his eye and stretches his arms up above him, back cracking solidly, figuring Negan will clean Dwight and himself up first and hand the rag off to Carl.

He does clean himself up first, wiping at his stomach and the dark hairs under his belly button, but then Negan moves to Carl, resting a hand on his hip. Negan swipes at Dwight’s cum that has transferred to Carl’s belly, making sure to get every bit he can.

Carl sighs softly and leans against Negan a little as the man wipes him down. “Thank you, love.”

“Of course, dear,” Negan says, giving his cock a quick clean to get off any excess oil before pressing a kiss to Carl’s cheek and then moving on to Dwight. “Next time, I’m using my mouth for this. Lotta good spunk wasted here.”

Dwight rolls his eyes, letting his legs fall open a bit more as Negan works down between them. “Should add some to your morning ale, eh? Get your fix that way.”

“You jest, and yet…”

Carl wrinkles up his nose. “Gross.” He yawns and crawls over to curl up next to Dwight, pressing his face into the blonde’s shoulder. “I’ll keep drinking my usual grog, thanks.”

Negan snickers and finishes up his cleaning, tossing the cloth into a pile of other soiled rags. He crawls into bed on the opposite side of Carl, pressing flush up against his back. “Mm… Time to sleep?”

“Yes, please,” Dwight says, eyes already closed as he buries his nose into Carl’s hair. “Goodnight, my loves.”

Carl hums softly, throwing his arm around Dwight and melting back into Negan. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” Negan says with a press of his lips to Carl’s head before he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him.

Chapter 37

Chapter by RanebowStitches

Summary:

Land ho!

 

“It’s… It’s really there.”

The crew all stand stock still along the port side rail, watching as the island that is on no maps appears out of the fog like it was dropped into existence. Even from a distance, they can see lush greenery growing around a stark white temple sitting somewhere near the middle of the island. Negan doesn’t have to point it out for everyone to know that that’s their goal.

“Dear Christ,” Carl gasps, reaching out to shake Peter excitedly. “Those are peach trees!”

“That’s what you’re focused on here?” Peter asks with a breathless laugh, still staring out at the island. “Christ… It’s pretty, ain’t it?”

Carl scoffs because of course the island is pretty. Most places with lush foliage and white sands and colorful fruits would be considered such. But the peaches. “Clearly you’ve never had a good peach if you think my focus is off.”

Peter just snorts and reaches out to ruffle Carl’s hair.

“How quickly can we dock?” Negan’s voice makes Peter jump to attention, finally peeling his eyes away from the island.

“It looks like there’s a bit of shallow reefs around the island, Cap’n. We just need to get a bit closer and then we can anchor and send people out in the boats.”

“The jolly boats won’t be needed,” Arat says as she appears from the stairs up to the helm deck. She points out to the end of the island and holds her spyglass out to Negan. “There’s a dock.”

Taking the spyglass, Negan focuses it through the lingering fog until he can see what Arat is referring to. Lo and behold, there is a dock large enough to tether The Lucille jutting off the end of the island like it was made for them.

“Well, that just made this easier,” Negan says with a grin, handing back the spyglass. “Peter, onwards to the dock!”

“Aye, sir.”

“A dock on a mysterious magically appearing island,” Carl comments cynically, but his gaze flicks once more to the peach trees and he shifts. “I’m going to see if Cook has any empty barrels, and how many water casks we can refill. Fruit that bright has to have some freshwater nearby.”

“You do that, pet,” Negan says with a smile, squeezing Carl’s arm as he walks past.

“Is food all he thinks about?” Peter asks as he takes his position behind the wheel.

“He’s keeping you fed and watered, isn’t he? Wouldn’t complain if I was you,” Negan says with a snort, looking out over the island again, amazed that they actually made it.

“Not complaining. No, no. Just wonderin’.”

“Uh huh.”

 

~

 

“There’s peaches on the island, so big and bright I can see them from the helm,” Carl tells Cook when he gets down to the galley.

The older man’s brows flick upwards. “I’ll get you a barrel, bambino.”

“Well at least someone gets it.”

 

~

 

It doesn’t take them long to reach the dock and tie up the ship. Negan encourages everyone to come, positive that leaving the ship unmanned is a good idea only in this instance. “We’ve reached an uncharted island, the culminations of our efforts and tribulations! It’s only right that everyone gets to see it.”

Though they all seem to agree, a few still hang back as Negan descends first, Dwight on his heels.

Carl makes off the ship not far behind the first few. Cook, his assistant, and Carson hot on his heels. “We should keep our eyes out for figs too. I hear they’re native to these territories and I’ve always wanted to try some.”

The three men are listening to him quite amused, sharing looks among themselves. They’re sharing in both the open wonder of the whole situation as well as Carl’s enthusiasm.

“He’s been tryin’ ta figure out hand pies for the captain for a while now,” Cook mumbles to Carson conspiratorially as Carl speeds up his pace to catch up with his lovers.

Negan throws his arm around Carl as they step off the dock onto soft sand together with Dwight, gazing around at the forest before them. “We made it, boys,” he says, voice growing tight with emotion at the end. “We fuckin’ made it.” Dwight gives him a soft smile and rubs his back.

Carl jostles his shoulder against the man’s ribs softly. “Don’t say you doubted us, love.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t. It’s just… Amazing to see all our hard work come to fruition, eh?” Negan grins, scanning the area. “Think there’s a magical path to that temple thing we saw, or shall we start bushwhacking?”

“Honestly, before we did anything I was going to get a snack,” Carl comments, eyeing the treeline. “Have you talked to Arat? She copied down a bunch of stuff from the sundial.”

“I haven’t yet. Too excited to get my toes in the sand,” Negan says, looking back to see where the navigator may yet be.

“I’ll go with you, lad. I’d like to see these peaches for myself,” Dwight says, moving to stand by Carl.

“Don’t worry I brought pliers,” Carl says, banking towards the first tree with low hanging ripe fruit that he sees. He reaches up, checking over a soft reddish orange peach for any sign of rot or bugs.

Dwight follows along, reaching up to feel at a peach himself. “Mm… Soft,” he says. “They look good. Cook give you a barrel, did he?”

“He’s having his assistant and Marco gather everything up,” Carl says distractedly, pulling his chosen peach off the branch and reaching into one of the pockets inside his new overcoat for the pliers.

“I see,” Dwight says, plucking his peach and then stepping closer to Carl to watch him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a fresh peach. I’ve had preserved ones, like when they get stored in jars and become mush, put into pies and such, but never like this.”

“I’ve only had them once before,” Carl explains, opening the pliers and stabbing them through the top of the peach where the stem was growing. He twists and yanks the pitt out, letting it fall to the ground. “Want me to do yours?”

“Yes, please,” Dwight says, amazement on his face at the ease that Carl plucked the seed out. He holds his peach out to Carl. “I didn’t even know that was in there. Can you eat the soft skin, or do we peel them?”

“You can eat the skin,” Carl says, rolling his peach back in his hand to grab Dwight’s and repeat the process. “At least I do. I’m sure some people don’t like the texture, and it gets peeled off for most foods, but I like it.”

“I’ll try it first then and see how I feel,” Dwight says, taking his peach back and examining it with wonder.

Slowly, he brings it to his lips and takes a small bite out of the side as if it were an apple. He makes a soft noise as a little juice bursts out, pulling it back to wipe at his chin, but his eyes grow as he chews the piece he got. “Oh… Oh, it’s so good.”

Carl has never been messy with food before but peaches, well, they’re hard to be clean with. He slurps the juice rather rudely when he digs his teeth into the fruit and what follows is a soft groan. Licking his lips after he chews, he offers a grin. “And Peter was making fun of me for being excited. Fresh fruit is the best.”

Dwight nods in agreement as he takes a bigger bite of his. “This is delicious. So sweet,” he says, watching the juice drip down his wrist. “They won’t last long on the boat, but it’ll be nice to have them while we can.”

“Doesn’t matter how long they’ll last,” Carl mumbles around another bite of the peach. “We can use them for pies, juice, breakfast, and I think Cook knows how we can dry some.”

Dwight hums, mouth full of peach, as he nods. Fantastic, he thinks. This fruit may be the real treasure they’ve come to find.

Carl feels an absolute mess, juice on his chin and trickling down his wrists. He casts his gaze around at the crew getting their land legs back and grouping amongst themselves to look around the beach and treeline.

“Think we’ll find anything other than a magic island full of fruit?” he asks lightly, twisting the half finished fruit in his hand to start on another part. “Or should we count our wins and become peach traders?”

Dwight laughs loudly, slurping at some of the juice on his hand. “It would be a lucrative business indeed, but I do think there will be more to find here. Not sure someone would make a map and leave a bunch of clues just to hide their peach farm.”

Carl shrugs, looking at all the trees. “Orchard like this? Seems like something worth keeping to me.”

“Perhaps,” Dwight says, popping the last bit of his peach in his mouth and waving his hand to try and get the juice off. “Delicious but messy things, aren’t they? Let’s go wash off in the ocean, eh?”

“Well worth a little mess I think,” Carl comments, following behind the man as he finishes off the last of his fruit.

“Very much so,” Dwight says, stepping up to the edge of where wet sand meets the flowing tide. He crouches down and rinses his hands off in the water, collecting some to splash across his chin as well.

Carl crouches to do the same, glancing over to Negan and Arat. “Think they have any ideas? Or should we expect to wander aimlessly?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve got something figured out,” Dwight says with a laugh, looking over to see Negan pointing aggressively at a map and Arat shaking her head. “But that won’t stop us from wandering anyway.”

“If they start fighting, I’m taking her side,” Carl jokes softly, standing up and shaking the water off his hands away from them.

Dwight snorts and wipes his off on his pants. “Aye, I probably would too,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows. “C’mon. Let’s see what they say.”

Carl keeps pace with Dwight along the beach, grinning at the sight of several crewmates following their lead and plucking fruits from the trees to taste. He crosses his arms behind his back when they get there, leaning between the two to look at the rudimentary map. “We have a heading?”

“Of sorts,” Negan says with a huff, resting his hand on Carl’s head like he needs the emotional support it gives. “We agree on the direction, but not the method of getting there. Arat wants to look for an opening into the forest, which could mean walking the perimeter of the entire island, whereas I’d just like to go straight through.”

Carl glances up at her and smiles hoping to keep the peace. “We’ll send him and the other physically strong guys ahead first to cut through, it will be practically the same.”

Arat huffs and opens her mouth to say something when Laura suddenly appears and shoves a peach in Arat’s face. “You have to try one of these!” Laura says, juice still shiny on her lips and chin from the one she obviously ate.

Arat stares at her for a moment before sighing and taking the peach. “Fine. We’ll go wit’ the captain’s plan,” she says, looking between the men.

Carl pulls his pliers from his pocket once more, holding them out to her handle first. The fondness he’s cultivated around this crew seems to thicken in his chest. “Don’t we always?”

She takes the pliers with an eye roll, watching as Negan breaks from the group with a giggle of excitement. “I’m going to go round up some men who’re good with a machete. Two shakes,” he says, running off with Dwight following him.

Arat pulls the pit from her peach, dropping it to the sand before handing Carl his pliers back. Laura watches her eagerly as she takes a bite, giving a nod and a hum. “It’s good.”

“Isn’t it? We’re bringing some with us, right?” Laura asks, looking to Carl.

“Oh yes,” Carl confirms, tucking the pliers away. “I have big plans for those peaches. I’m sure Cook will hate me in a week's time.”

He glances around a little conspiratorially. “Though, I’m sure if we gorge ourselves on a few while we’re on land no one will mind so long as we can fight if the situation calls for it.”

Laura snorts and wipes at her sticky chin with the back of her hand. “I don’t think I could eat more than two. They’re really rich to me. Don’t wanna be hurling up peaches later if I can prevent it.”

“I suppose I’m a bit of a glutton then,” Carl says, eyes on the trees. “Even a stitch of hunger and I’ll be grabbing for the closest one.

“Abundant food like this doesn’t happen often,” he adds on after a moment's thought. “Maybe we’ll find other fruits.”

“Aren’t olives a thing in this area?” Arat asks around a bite of peach.

“Ugh, I hate olives.” Laura makes a face, crossing her arms and shaking her head.

“Think you’re jus’ picky,” Arat says with a snort, earning a scoff from Laura.

Carl hums. “I was thinking more figs, but Master Dwight might like olives. I know he has a fondness for pickled cucumbers.”

“Aye, I’ve seen him sneaking a snack of those between shifts a few times,” Laura says with a soft laugh. “They’re good, but they’re not that good.”

“Picky.”

“I swear to God…”

There’s a shout from Negan to announce that he and the group he’s made will be starting in on the vegetation. “All those who want to follow, bring up the rear! We’re headed towards that temple, and hopefully, towards what we’ve been looking for this whole trip.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Carl says lightly, falling into step with Laura, “I get made fun of every time we have pickled eggs because I sneak them on Negan and Master Dwight’s plates.”

Laura grins and bumps Carl with her elbow. “I feel you there.”

The forest is thick at the edge, but no match for ten men with sharpened steel. They hack their way in in a matter of minutes, looking around before pushing forward. The forest begins to thin out once they’ve made their way inside the tall tree canopy. The shade from the leaves feels good upon their skin, and the air moves by in a cool breeze.

Carl ends up chatting with the women for a bit longer before moving farther up to keep pace with Dwight. “How are we doing? No one is hurt or anything right?”

“Not that I know of,” Dwight says, pushing a hanging vine out of his way. “Negan thinks it might take us an hour to get there if the forest stays this easy to travel through.”

“Let’s hope for easy then,” Carl says, even though he’s just about always hurting for a fight. It felt wrong to bring up the sirens because in spite of the panic it had been the first fight he’d gotten since Shane, and he’d needed it. Still sort of needs it.

“Aye.” Dwight smiles and gives Carl a squeeze to his shoulder.

They walk for a while yet before Dwight asks, “You find any more fruit or potion ingredients?”

“Not yet,” Carl says, and to be honest he hasn’t been looking that hard. “We’ll have time on the way back.”

“Aye, so you think, but what if we find the treasure and try to take it but the whole island begins to sink into the ocean?” Dwight grins, tugging Carl close as they walk, spinning his dangerous tale with a tone of playfulness. “Or the gods become angry with us and strike down lightning for attempting to steal their precious hidden treasure? What then?”

Carl hums, “I think you’ve been reading too many books.” He shrugs though, not too worried. “If not this island then the next one. We have the peaches, and I’m not running terribly low on anything aside from perhaps bandages.”

Dwight pouts softly, throwing his arm over Carl’s shoulders. “Think I should start reading you more books. Get a little imagination in that head of yours.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to you taking time out of your busy schedule to let me listen to your pretty voice, dear heart,” Carl says leaning into the touch easily, “but I’ll have you know I have plenty imagination.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Dwight nods but gives Carl a smile. “We used to have nights aboard the ship where we’d all share stories and act out plays on deck. We’ll have to start it up again. Think we got so focused on everything new happening it just kinda stopped.” He hums, looking up at the canopy above them, dappled light moving across his scarred face. “But, I also wouldn’t mind reading to you. Negan’s got a collection of story books in his cabin. Good ones.”

“You two were real patrons of the arts before I came along, it seems,” Carl says, eyes drawn to the man, though they seldom aren’t.

“It’s nice to have some various entertainment aboard the ship during long voyages,” Dwight says. “Though, back then we weren’t eating nearly as well as we do now, so perhaps it was more a distraction.” He shrugs. “Though, I’ve always liked to read, and I think you can tell Negan has a thing for showmanship.”

“As much as he may be, and don’t tell him I said this, I do like it. Occasionally he can even be downright charming,” the boy comments almost confidently.

“There’s a method to his madness for sure,” Dwight agrees, looking ahead to watch Negan slash at a few low vines with a bit more pizzazz than necessary. “He’s like one of those colorful birds showing off his feathers to attract a mate, and we’re just the fools who like pretty things.” He laughs softly, no bite to his words.

“I won’t argue with you there,” Carl says, joining the blonde in appreciating their lover.

Just as the sun is reaching its peak in the sky, the ground beneath their feet turns from dirt to laid stone. Someone points out that it looks similar to the stone at the sundial island when they all stop to rest and examine it.

“Good sign, I’d say. We must be getting close,” Negan says with a grin, looking to where the trees are beginning to thin in the direction they’ve been heading.

“I hope so,” Carl says lightly, pulling the pit out of another peach before handing it off to one of the hungry machete wielders. “At this rate we’re going to have to camp wherever we’re going if it’s safe enough.”

“Aye, we just might,” Negan says, scratching at his beard. He glances over his crew and makes sure people are doing okay, knowing this is more land walking than most of them have done for a while.

He sits down on a fallen log himself and sighs, stretching out his legs. “You got another one of them peaches on hand for me?” he asks Carl, giving him a sideways smile.

Carl takes a few steps off the path and pulls another from a low-hanging branch. Twisting the pit out and discarding it, he holds out the fruit. “The trees are a little sparser out here, but it seems almost like this whole island was an orchard at some point.”

“A very interesting fact,” Negan says, taking the peach with a thanks and biting into it. He makes a half hum half growl of pleasure at the taste and nods. “A very tasty fact. I’ve never had a peach taste as good as this before. Wonder if there’s something in the soil.”

Carl twirls the pliers around in his hand as he glances around at their crew, tips of his ears pink. “Who knows. Maybe it’s blessed,” he says offhandedly.

“Mm, maybe,” Negan says, licking the juice that runs down his palm without a hint of shame. “‘Tis is a mystical magical island. Wouldn’t put blessed soil past it.”

Carl’s eyes track the path of the man’s tongue and he swallows, pulling him back to the present. “Poses the question… if the soil is blessed then what’s cursed? It can’t have just been the sirens in our way.”

“Aye, seems too easy if we can just walk in, huh? Keep your eye peeled as we grow closer, pet.” He chomps into the peach, chewing with thought.

“My eye is as wide open as it ever is,” Carl replies, he’s never trusted anything easy.

“Good.” Negan pops the last of his peach in his mouth and licks his fingers clean. “Let’s give the men a few more minutes and then keep on moving, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Carl says, making the only good decision he can and taking a step away. “I’m gonna go check in on the girls and Carson.”

“Alright, love,” Negan says, hiding his knowing smile behind his hand.

They get going again once everyone has had some food and water, continuing on following the stone path. The farther they go, the nicer the stones look and thinner the trees get until finally they break the forest line. High up on a hill in front of them is the temple, shining white in the late afternoon sun.

“Nearly there!” Negan says with a grin, wiggling excitedly. There’s a few cheers from the others, though they sound more relieved than anything.

Carl doesn’t want to bring down the mood so he doesn’t speak loudly, but he knows Carson hears him when he murmurs: “Something is bothering me about this.”

“What’s bothering you?” the ex-navy man questions just as softly as they plod along with the others.

“It’s too easy.”

The air begins to grow thin as they head up the hill. A soft fog rolls in around their heels. Their footsteps fall slower, hairs raising as electricity seems to permeate the atmosphere around them. Someone points out that the grass growing tall around the stone is littered with bones, and it causes a stir amongst the crew.

“Keep on your toes,” Negan says, giving Dwight a look. He nods back and rests a hand on his sword hilt. Something feels… off.

They only go a few more steps when suddenly there’s a shriek of terror from the tail end of the group.

They turn to see John, pale as a fresh sail, running up the hill with wide eyes. He falls against Enzo who stares at him in shock and confusion. “It’s-It’s-!” John points back down the way where he’d been bringing up the rear, a humanoid shape blurry in the light fog moving jerkily. “It’s alive! The skeleton!”

Carl’s first and more logical instinct is to check John for sun fever. Fortunately he doesn’t, eye casting its gaze to where the man is pointing as he palms out one of his throwing knives.

Skeletons don’t just up and walk around, so the idea that this one might go down from a human killing wound is slim. He still throws the knife right for the lumbering figure’s head.

It hits its target, wedging into the skull and popping it clean off the body. There’s a tense moment as they watch the legs continue moving up the hill towards them, and then the bones begin to shake and fall to pieces against the stone.

“Is that it?” John asks after a long moment of silence as they all wait to see if the skeleton will rise again. “That doesn’t seem-”

“Holy shit!” Laura shouts, brandishing her sword and swiping at a new skeleton that’s burst out from the grasses beside her. She manages to dismantle its left arm but in its right it holds a heavy broadsword. With an undead roar, the skeleton raises its weapon and brings it down to clash with Laura’s.

“I knew this was too easy,” Carl hisses in Carson’s direction. He draws his rapier just in time to intercept a heavy blow from an axe hurtling towards the man next to him.

Pushing forward and up, he disarms the skeleton but the damn thing keeps coming, heedless of its unarmed state. Slashing hard, he takes its head off holding in a giddy laugh as the body begins to shake apart, leathery bits of skin being the only thing to hold some pieces together.

“What are these things?” Laura shouts as she kicks the ribs out of the ghoul she’s fighting.

“Skeletons,” Peter supplies, ducking to avoid a slash from the one focused on him.

“Not helpful.” Laura huffs as she rolls her eyes, looking about.

A horde of the undead are lumbering towards them with rattling bones and rusted weapons. They’re easy enough to dismantle, but the sheer number of them has every crew member fighting without rest.

Carl keeps his excitement in, thrilled to be in a brawl where his crew isn’t trying to drown themselves and he can focus on the fight. He slips forward, past Enzo to meet another skeleton head on, taking it down at the knees and kicking its head like a ball away from its body when it goes down.

“We can find out what they are later!” he shouts to Laura as his rapier comes up to parry a short sword. “Bigger problems than what to call what we’re killing right now!”

At the head of the group, Negan and Dwight fight back to back, keeping each other safe from all directions.

“On your left!”

“Got it!”

Negan can’t help but laugh as he rips the jaw off a skeleton and hucks it away into the grass. He lands a solid strike across its chest, watching it crumble at his feet. He kicks the bones away just in time to swing at a new one coming at him. “Christ, how many of these things are there?”

'Not enough,' Carl thinks, slamming his dagger through the side of one head and using it to knock off another. He shakes the skull off of his knife, cracking loudly on the ground as it falls.

“Marco! Watch yourself!” he shouts when he catches sight of one of the skeletons lumbering in behind the boy who’s still recovering from his ribs and has been breathing shallow all day. He flings the knife towards it, catching it in the shoulder and sending it stumbling back so the other boy has enough time to finish with the first.

“Thanks!” Marco shouts through his panting, turning to face the new one with a groan.

The sound of metal clanging and bones rattling seems never ending. The pirates are all breathing heavy by the fourth wave, a few taking hits they would have been able to deflect if their muscles weren’t tired and slowed.

“Are… Are we fighting new ones, or are the old ones coming back?” Dwight asks, shoving his sword through the chest of one and pushing it into another.

“I’ve not exactly been counting!” Carl calls out, using the femur of one of the skeletons to knock the head off of another since his rapier is currently stuck between the ribs of the first.

“Whatever it is, I’m getting tired! I think we need a new tactic,” Laura shouts, cursing as she gets jumped from behind, the skeleton biting into her shoulder. Arat is there to pull it off, busting the skull over her knee.

Shoving the skeleton off the end of his sword with his boot, Carl makes his way to Dwight and Negan trying to keep his eye out for his dagger or his throwing knives which have been lost in the fray. It seems like Peter has gotten his hands on one of the throwing knives at least.

“Think we could start a fire somehow?” He questions, sword sweeping up to cut a skeleton off at the waist.

“A fire?” Dwight asks, kicking a skeleton away before spinning around to switch sides with Negan.

“It’s worked every other time, and some people aren’t exactly having as much fun as-” he cuts himself off, kicking out at one of the shamblers.

“A fire! Yes! Of course!” Negan says with a grin, popping off a skull and chucking it at another. “Does anyone have a lantern on them? Any kind of oil? Flint?”

Carl didn’t bring a lantern this time, with so many people off the ship carrying things. He does pause in his assault to unclip his flint from his belt and chuck it to Negan before diving off into another fray with Cook who’s knife work is a whole lot better than his sword work. Not that he’ll tell the man that.

“Aye, bambino. I come off th’ ship for the first time in ever and the dead rise!” Cook says with a huff, slamming his shoulder into a skeleton. “Think this may jus’ be a sign I should stay in m’ kitchen.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Carl huffs, kicking the fallen skeleton’s skull away from its crumpled body. “You’ve got me here, ay? Nothin’s gonna happen to you.”

“Don’t say that, now. Some wily fae will hear ya, and it’ll be all over for me,” Cook says with a laugh.

Just then, there’s a shout from Dwight and a cackle from Negan as one of the skeletons near them burst into flames. There’s a broken lantern in Negan’s hand, his sword dripping in oil and wax. “Watch out!” he calls as the skeleton moves towards the group, bumping into a few of its friends and setting them ablaze as well.

“Come on, have some faith,” Carl says, patting Cook’s shoulder with a wicked grin. He keeps aware of their place in this all, attention mostly on their undead foes, but part of him is caught on Negan wondering if he’s going to light the sword on fire as well.

The thought has barely left his mind before Dwight strikes the flint and sends Negan’s blade up in flames. There’s a manic grin on his face, the fire dancing in his eyes, as Negan starts slashing at every skeleton he can reach.

Someone else with a lantern and a flint lights a skeleton up near the tail end and sends it careening into a couple of the others. The crew begins to step back into the grass, pushing the undead towards each other on the stone path.

“Don’t let the grass catch. Would hate to see a fire take out those peach trees,” Cook says, stamping down on an ember that falls a little too close to the edge.

Carl’s nodding along to Cook’s concerns, but his focus is mostly on pushing the undead towards their flaming companions. He’s nearly giddy with excitement watching Negan slash through the shambling corpses.

“Oh, I’m gonna dream about this,” he mumbles to himself, using his rapier to bat a flaming, wailing skeleton back towards the stones.

As the undead fall to the fire, the flames going from warm red to cool blue just before they snuff out, it becomes apparent that the more they set ablaze, the less that appear, much to everyone’s relief. Negan flourishes his flaming sword, knocking skeletons away from the grass, until the last of the flames burn out.

Carl hums as he picks through the detritus, swiping his knives from the ash and bone. His dagger is handed over by Marco, and his last throwing knife is returned from Peter.

Bobbing back over to his pirates, he stretches his arms out above his head and pops his back. “I think that went rather well. I’ll give everyone a minute to breathe and then see if any injuries need to be dressed.”

Negan slashes his sword through the air to lick out the little bit of fire still burning before sheathing it back at his hip. “Sounds good, pet. Good thinking with the fire.”

“Yes, very good,” Dwight says, panting softly. “Though, I dare say you were having a bit of fun fighting these skeletons, huh?” He gives Carl a knowing smile, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

“It would be more unusual if I’m not having fun in a fight,” Carl says offhandedly, already squinting at where Arat is looking over Laura’s bitten shoulder. He trusts that if she needs stitches she’ll let him know.

“Mm. I’d still like to know who or what these things were,” Dwight says, crouching down to pick through a pile of smoldering bones. “Some of them were wearing what looked like bits of armor. Perhaps soldiers of some sort?”

Negan rolls his shoulder a few times, humming. It’s felt better since Carl helped massage it and it’s healed over time, but the fight seems to have stretched it out a bit and made it sore. “Guards maybe?”

“Whatever they were, they were fun to fight,” Carl mumbles, crouching to lift a skull in his hands. “Some sort of protectors of the temple perhaps?” He’s sure they can research about it later. Maybe the answer will be in one of The Kingdom’s thousands of books.

“Sounds as good an explanation as any,” Negan says, looking out over his crew. Most people look okay, just tired, but Negan can see a few have spilt blood. “Let’s go check on everyone and then continue on.”

Carl drops the skull, stretching out his fingers as he bounces back to his feet. “I really should check Marco’s ribs. Should probably have kept closer to him during the brawl.”

“You can’t be everywhere at once,” Dwight says with a sigh, standing back up himself. He makes a soft noise and falls slightly into Negan who catches him quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Negan asks, looking Dwight over.

“I’m okay. I think I just twisted my ankle.” Dwight lifts his foot and wiggles it, hissing softly. “It’s not too bad. I’ll live.”

Carl is back crouching before he even takes a step away, reaching out to gently take Dwight’s calf in hand so that he can rest the man’s foot on his thigh, unbothered by dirtying his trousers. He carefully inspects the ankle, pulling the boot leather away. “When did you twist it? Which way? Did it pop or crack?”

“Ah!” Dwight wobbles off balance for a moment, before Negan helps correct him. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m fine. I did it sometime during the fight… I don’t remember. It didn’t seem to start hurting until just now.”

“Your body just ignored it during the fight, probably,” Negan says, squeezing Dwight gently with the arm around his waist.

“It doesn’t seem to be swelling,” Carl murmurs, squeezing gently along the man’s ankle. “Does this hurt? Or just when you put pressure on it?”

“Ah… It hurts a little, but not as much as when I stepped down,” Dwight says, wincing softly. “It’s okay, really. Go on and help someone else who needs it, love.”

Carl hms, stroking his thumb gently up the side of Dwight’s leg. “I’d like you to still tell me if it continues to ache by the time we go to bed tonight. We can compress it and elevate it if need be.”

“I will, lad. Thank you.”

He carefully lowers the man’s foot back to the ground and dusts off his pants before standing and spying Marco. “If that little shit tries to hide from me…”

Chapter 38

Summary:

Hope is found.

Notes:

R: Ahh!! They made it yall! 😭 I’m so proud of the boys and the crew and of Tabs and I haha~

 

Once those who need it are patched up and ready to go, they continue on their hike to the top of the hill. With no more distractions, they make it to the temple with ease, Dwight leaning on Negan, and step inside to see what treasures await.

As far as Carl can tell, this looks like any other temple. A huge altar wraps around most of the room, Olympian gods frozen in time and glaring from their marble statues. There’s a depression in the middle of the floor, the only cutout in the white stone. Around it are raised, brushed golden words… Greek words.

“Does someone know Greek?” he asks softly, already inspecting the empty temple for more clues. It feels eerie, the way everything is so clean, but there’s no devotees around to have done it, to have made offerings, or to stoke the fires that should be in the sconces and fire pits.

There’s murmurs through the crowd, but a lot of negative head shakes. They know a lot of other languages between them all, but Greek seems to be missing.

That is until Omari steps up from the center of the group. “I do,” he says quietly, moving to stand beside Carl. He rubs at his wrists nervously, the scars there deep but the wounds nicely healed thanks to Carl.

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Carl hums, looking around to see if anyone has an unbroken lantern to give the man some light to read by. He ends up having to get his flint back from Negan and taking a half empty lantern from Cook who had taken a step back from the fight when the bodies had started going up like bonfires.

Omari takes the lantern and studies the text along the ground. His eyebrows pull in, concentration and confusion tugging at his features. “I can read it,” he says a moment later. “But… It don’t make much sense.”

Most written word doesn’t make much sense to Carl, but he tilts his head at the foreign script anyway. “What do you mean?”

Omari hums and makes a wiggly motion with his hand. “I mean it says… ‘Those who made Pandora, light the way’. Does that mean anythin’ to ye?”

Carl looks up at all the glaring olympians and their dead altars, each offering sconce empty of flame. “Actually it just might.”

He looks to Dwight and Negan. “Pandora was the first woman, made by Zeus, but he’s clearly not the only one, and I’ve heard several versions.”

“One of the books Ezekiel had said that Hephaestus actually made her. ‘Fashioned her out of earth’, or some such,” Negan says, keeping a hold on Dwight who is leaning on him to keep the weight off his ankle. “You thinkin’ we light up the ones involved in her story?”

“Seems our only option at present. I’ll light Prometheus, too, just to be safe,” Carl says, accepting the lantern back from Omari. As the person who can move most freely, he walks over first to Zeus’ sconce.

Dropping some of the flaming oil into it, it catches near immediately and he has to take a step back. The other two aren’t exactly close to the king of the gods so it takes a minute before he’s standing in front of the last drizzling flames into his sconce.

With the three flames lit, the crew seems to hold their breath, waiting anxiously to see if anything will happen. There’s a solid moment of silence, their eyes flickering around the now lit space, before someone asks quietly, “Did it work?”

The depression in the floor in front of Omari groans and with a rasp begins to retract as Carl joins them once more. He looks down at the receding trap door with raised brows, the glow of the lantern shining on a revealed staircase.

“Well that answers that.”

“Stay close, everyone. Tread carefully,” Negan says, squeezing Dwight a little closer as they begin to make their way down the stairs. He keeps close to Carl as well, staying in the glow of the lantern.

The staircase is thankfully not narrow or steep and when they get to the end there is a door. It doesn’t seem to be blocked in any way, just two ornate marble doors with Greek carved over top and brushed in gold once more.

Carl lifts the lantern higher and glances at Omari. “Do you mind, dear?”

“Aye, it says…” Omari squints at the letters, lips moving as he silently sounds out the words. “‘Choose wrong, and perish’.” He glances back to Carl with a grim look on his face. “Choose what, I wonder.”

“Ominous,” Carl comments lightly, handing off the lantern so that he can grab the handles of both doors and push them open.

The chamber within bursts to life in front of their eyes. Sconces and torches igniting as the doors swing open, illuminating a room full of containers from barrels to chests to boxes among piles of offerings and treasures.

Negan lets out a low whistle of wonder as they step inside, gazing around at all the different receptacles in awe. “Would you look at that…”

The rest of the crew follows, jaws going slack in amazement and eyes settling on shiny treasure and jewels. John goes to touch a golden jewelry box near him, but Arat pulls him back. “Don’t. Touch. You may kill us all.”

“One of these is Pandora’s box?” Carson questions from behind Omari as they shuffle in, casting their gazes around.

Carl very pointedly shoves his hands in his pockets so that his sticky fingers don’t get the best of them. “Allegedly.”

“How do we know which it is?” Dwight asks, frowning softly as he studies a plain looking blanket chest nearby. It looks so much like the one he used to have at the foot of his bed. “There must be a thousand or more different boxes in here.”

“I suppose we will make an educated guess,” Carl says evenly, eyeing up some of the boxes.

“I can tell you it’s not these,” he comments, gesturing to a few treasure chests before resolutely shoving his hand back into the confines of his pocket. “They’re Spanish make, just look at the studs.”

“So, you think we’re looking for something Greek?” Laura asks, coming up next to Carl. Her hands are also shoved into her pockets the way Carl’s are. “You don’t think maybe it’s a trick? A bluff? Like, we think it’s going to be Grecian but then it’s not?”

“I’m just saying it’s the safest bet,” Carl comments with a shrug, glancing over at the other thief. “Think about it. Greek myth, magical Greek island, Greek temple full of Grecian gods. Why would you not commit to it for the one last thing?”

“To trip people up! There’s always something at the end of these things to fool ya at the last second,” Laura says with a huff. “You think they wanna make it easy for you to find the thing they hid?”

“Yes, because the flesh eating sea women and the unkillable corpses were so easy,” Carl snarks right back.

“Listen. I’m just saying it might not be as simple as finding a Greek box.” Laura pulls her hands out of her pockets to cross her arms over her chest and stomp back over by Arat.

Carl rolls his eye and speaks loudly in her direction as he casts his gaze around the room, “You’re right about one thing. It’s probably a jar.”

“A jar?” asks Peter as he walks by, tapping his chin as he gazes at a pillow of clasped lockets. “Why a jar?”

“The myth originally states Pandora opened a ‘pithos’, a vase, and it got translated funny down the line,” Negan explains as he and Dwight examine a pile of empty but corked bottles.

“Probably big though,” Carl says, rocking back on his heels. “I mean wouldn’t it have to be to hold all that bad shit? And most of the depictions I’ve seen have Pandora with some large container…”

“Something, uh… Like this?” It’s Enzo who calls down from the end of the room, pointing towards a large vase that’s half buried within other containers and jewels. There’s no mistaking that it’s Grecian made, and it does seem to be the largest jar in the temple.

Carl blinks and then narrows his eye, briefly wondering if Laura was right and this is too easy. “Exactly like that,” he says carefully.

Everyone moves down to gaze at the vase, murmurs of questioning going through them. “Don’t touch it! What if it’s not right? How do we know for sure?” Laura voices the loudest, gripping onto Arat’s wrist with paranoia and fear. “I don’t like this.”

“Well, I mean… who’s to say all of us would die,” Carl points out. “The words on the door weren’t exactly clear.”

Carl takes exactly one second to think about it before boosting himself up on his toes and grabbing the handle of the pithos’ lid. He gives it a firm yank, stumbling backwards a little when it’s way easier to pull off than he imagined.

“Carl!”

“No!”

“Holy shit!”

Negan and Dwight both rush forward, catching Carl from behind and looking him over with fearful eyes. “Why would you do that?! Are you okay? Do you feel okay? Christ! I swear to god, if this doesn’t fucking kill you, I will! Goddamn it…”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” Dwight is chanting under his breath, running his hand over Carl as if to make sure he’s still solid, tears brimming in his eyes.

“Hm? I feel fine,” Carl says assuredly, reaching out with his free hand to pat Dwight’s hand. “The chance that we were wrong was basically none, and it’s not like I was going to let anyone else try it.”

“Just don’t… Don’t do that again,” Negan says, drawing Carl into a tight embrace and burying his face into his hair. “Fuck. Don’t let me lose you like that.” Dwight’s arms wrap around Carl from the other side, squeezing him as well.

“Not to break up this tender moment, but does this mean we chose right?” Laura asks hesitantly, staring at the now open jar.

“One would assume,” Carl mumbles, face flushed from within the embrace of the two men. “Honestly, you two, it was just a lid. Have some faith. Think I’m going to be bested by a jar after everything I’ve been through?”

“It’s a magic jar in a magic temple with a death warning on it. You don’t know what could happen!” Negan huffs, but he gently lets Carl go. “Just… Warn us next time before you decide to be impulsive.”

“Think you might not realize what impulsive means,” Carl says fondly, straightening his coat as he steps back towards the pithos. He gently lays the lid on the floor next to it and grabs the edge, pushing up on his toes to look in once more.

He blinks and then blinks again.

“Um… Does anyone else see the sleeping woman?”

“Huh?” Negan, Dwight, and a few of the crew step forward and peer inside alongside Carl. Sure enough there’s a woman curled up inside the jar, sleeping away like nothing is wrong.

“D’ye s’pose she’s magic?” John asks quietly, his eyes lighting up as they trace her beautiful features.

“Would think so, being sealed up in a vase like tha’,” Enzo whispers back.

“Do we wake her?” Laura asks, looking to Carl for answers.

“Bet you a whole eight that’s Hope,” Carl says to the blonde.

He reaches into the pithos, half afraid she’s just an extremely realistic carving. His fingers land gently on soft, warm flesh as he touches her shoulder. “Madam? Can you hear us?”

There’s a silent beat of time as everyone waits for a reaction, an equal mix of anticipation and anxiety. Then, the woman blinks open her eyes slowly, yawning softly. She hums as she looks up, tensing at all of the eyes staring down at her. “Γειά σου?” she says nervously.

“Ah,” Carl grimaces, glancing back at Omari and ushering him over. “Translation, dear?”

Omari laughs softly as he peers inside. “She said hello, but… perplexed like,” he says, giving the woman a wave. She raises her fingers in a confused greeting. The furrow between her brow loosens as Omari begins to speak to her in choppy, unpracticed Greek, asking her if she can understand or speak English.

“Ah… Yes,” she says, nodding, before biting her lip and looking fearful again. “You have not come to take me away, right?“

Carl realizes very abruptly that he is in a room full of pirates. It’s not that he didn’t know, and it’s not that he isn’t self aware, it’s just that in his heart these are all good people. His gaze flicks to Negan. “I didn’t sign up for any kidnappings…”

He looks back to the woman in the pithos. “Perhaps you can settle something for me, do you have a name you’re willing to share?”

“My name… I am Hope,” Hope says, and it almost feels like the air in the room gets a little lighter.

Carl smiles, and he might not have a pretty smile anymore, but he can’t much help it. “Hello, Hope. I’m Carlton. I believe we’ve been looking for you for a long time now.”

Something shines in Hope’s eyes, and when she smiles back it makes the flames around the room burn a little brighter. She shifts within her jar, getting to her feet and standing up carefully. The crew lean back to give her room as her head pops up above the lip of the pithos.

“Ah, I haven’t seen this room in ages,” she says, eyes scanning over everyone. “My… There is many of you.”

“The crew of The Lucille,” Carl introduces with a wide gesture before reaching out to touch Negan’s shoulder, “and her esteemed captain.”

Negan bows low with a flourish of his hat in his hand. “Madam Hope,” he greets when he straightens up with a grin on his face. “We have traveled very far, following map and stars, to find your lovely island and the treasure within. It is such an honor to meet you.” He holds out his hand for hers, which she gives demurely, and he places a soft kiss to the back.

“Oh…” Hope giggles softly. “Such a gentleman. I do hope you don’t plan on taking me away from here.”

“No, of course not, Madam. We may be pirates, but kidnapping maidens is not what we do,” Negan says, releasing her hand after a reassuring pat. “Though… May I ask why you’d rather be locked away?”

Hope sighs softly and runs her fingers along the rim of the jar. “If I were to be taken away from here, the evils and wickedness of the world would be able to find and devour me, leaving the world bleak and hopeless.”

Carl is so focused on Negan being genuinely charming that for a moment he almost doesn’t register her words. He boggles at her for a moment before taking a deep breath in. “It’s well and truly good, then, that we don’t intend to take you from your safe haven.”

Hope smiles and warmth blooms in everyone’s chests. “Thank you.” She hums as she looks around again, taking in all the eyes on her. “I do feel bad though. You came all this way, were so hopeful for a treasure to take back with you…”

Carl couldn’t give a fuck about a treasure at the end of this journey. He can pick up something valuable anywhere after all.

He glances around at the pirates, however, figuring that feeling is not completely shared. He doesn’t have any suggestions of course so he looks to Dwight and Negan, hoping they or Hope will offer some sort of answer. “I’ll be honest, the peaches were enough for me but…”

“Oh, how about I bestow a blessing upon something for you? Your ship perhaps?” Hope asks, looking to Negan.

He smiles sheepishly, shuffling a foot on the ground. “Ah, you see…”

“Oh… Oh, yes. She already is. I can feel it.” Hope nods knowingly.

“Carl, what about your dagger? You use it so much, that might come in handy,” Dwight suggests.

Carl averts his gaze and tries not to grimace. He doesn’t necessarily succeed. “Technically my darling is blessed as well.”

“Is there anything around here that’s not blessed?” Laura huffs, throwing her hands up.

“What about, eh…” Cook speaks up, tensing slightly under Hope’s gaze as she turns to look at him. He blushes softly and fiddles with his fingers. “I’m not sure if it would be doable, signora, but could, maybe, perhaps we get the mugs aboard the ship blessed? Everyone uses ‘em, so everyone would get the, uh, benefit.”

Hope smiles and nods. “I could do that for you.” Cook blushes deeper and grins. Hope looks back over the crew. “Does everyone agree on this?”

“Sounds like a wonderful idea to me,” Carl says, biting down on his smile so he won’t poke fun at the man for his flush.

“If it’s not too much to ask for,” Negan says with another bow.

“It’s perfect,” Hope says with a soft laugh. She snaps her fingers and the fires in the room glow hotter for a moment before settling down. “Done.”

“Oh,” Carl breathes surprised, glancing around the room of riches. “We didn’t even have to bring them here?”

“Thank god,” John says under his breath. “Would have taken us about three days goin’ there and back.” Enzo snorts softly and bumps John with his elbow.

“Your ship is docked on my island,” Hope says. “So my blessings can reach it just fine.” She hums and yawns softly. “You may also each take a piece of gold or a gem if you’d like.” Most of the crew perks up at that and immediately begin breaking off to look for one item to take.

“That’s mighty generous of you, madam,” Negan says, eyeing a sapphire nearby.

“I’m not using them,” Hope says with a laugh.

Carl hums, glancing around the lavish things in the room. Too many things to ever choose from. He keeps his hands in his pockets and decides not to be overzealous. He has enough shiny things for now without taking from this room.

“Do you get many visitors, Hope?” he asks, watching the crew break off to look at all the jewels and gold.

“Not anymore, and not ones ever so smart as you,” she says, folding her arms on the lip of the jar and resting her chin down on them. “Most who find the island don’t end up in this room, and the ones who do usually pick the wrong vessel. It’s been ages since anyone has woken me.”

Carl thinks that sounds quite sad and lonely. “There are lots of peaches on this island, well worth coming back in my opinion. If we do, could we bring you anything?”

“That’s a very kind notion, you pure, sweet thing,” Hope says with a melancholy smile, tilting her head against her arms. “But once you leave the island, your time on it is done. You will be unable to find it again, no matter how hard you search. Please, do not drive yourselves mad trying to do so. It would break my heart.”

“Ah,” Carl voices before joking with her lightly: “Well if this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, then I’ll be sure to steal as many peaches as I can hold.”

“Please, be my guest,” Hope says with a laugh. “If you plant any of the pits, they are guaranteed to grow, and the fruit the tree bears will be just as delicious.”

Carl tries to imagine if he can get Negan to allow him to grow fruit on the ship. He’s already going to push for rain catchers at the bow but a peach tree and some kind of citrus at the helm would be helpful. “That’s extremely helpful information, thank you, Hope.”

“Of course,” Hope nods gently, looking off to the side as Negan approaches her with the sapphire in his hand. It’s a jagged gem, uncut and rough.

“You’ve done so much for us already, madam, but I was wondering, hoping, there might be a way this could…”

Hope holds her hand out for the gemstone. “I know what you wish for, sir. Let me see what I can do.”

Negan places the rock into her palm and she curls her fingers around it, squeezing hard. She closes her eyes and concentrates for a moment until she releases a breath and opens her hand. Revealed is a perfectly smooth orb made from the sapphire.

She turns and holds it out to Carl.

Carl is gentle when he picks it up even if it’s a bit weighty in his palm. It feels like his chest has been robbed of air. Reaching up with his free hand, he pulls at the bandages wrapped around his face.

He trusts in Hope that the sapphire is clean, prodding carefully at his face to hold the messed up parts of his eye out of the way so that he can slot it into his socket. He shivers, the jewel sliding into place perfectly, and lets go of his face. It’s an odd feeling, he can tell there’s something foreign in his face, something hard and heavy. He certainly couldn’t sleep with it in, but he could grow used to it during the day.

Carl looks between Hope and Negan. “So?”

Kneeling down on one knee, Negan takes Carl’s face in his hands. He runs his gaze all over his features, taking in the way the sapphire gleams in the socket. “Stunning as always,” he breathes, running his thumb under Carl’s socket gently. “Honestly, the sapphire might just take away from your beauty, but it looks very good. A wonderful match to the real one.”

Flushed, Carl presses his face into Negan’s palm and kisses there. “You’ll see me enough without it, I’m sure. I certainly can’t sleep with it in.”

“Mm. Good then.” Leaning forward, Negan draws Carl in for a soft kiss. “Does it feel alright? Doesn’t hurt?”

Thinking for a minute, Carl shifts his gaze around, goes through the act of blinking even if it doesn’t work on one side, tilts his head back and forth to see if the eye moves. Finally he shrugs.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Any more than his face usually hurts, that is. He hums. “But it will take some getting used to. It has weight that an eye doesn’t.”

“Sure. Of course,” Negan says with a nod, letting his hands fall to Carl’s waist.

“It suits you, Sir Carlton,” Hope says with a smile, her eyes blinking softly down at him. “Your lover chose well.”

“Some days I think he knows me better than I do,” Carl says lightly, looking away from the man holding on to him to address her.

Hope giggles softly, watching as Dwight limps over, flipping a silver drachma between his fingers. He leans against Negan as he looks Carl over. “What’s going on over- Oh! Look at that!” Dwight grins and reaches out to touch Carl’s cheek. “Didn’t know you could get any prettier.”

“Flatterer,” Carl huffs fondly, reaching up to squeeze the man’s hand. “Commit this place to memory, dear heart, apparently we can’t come back.”

“We can’t? Oh, that’s a shame,” Dwight says with a click of his tongue. “Best grab as many peaches as you can then.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Carl says lightly, before glancing back at Hope. “Are you sure we can’t do anything for you before we leave? Bring you a quilt for your pithos? Give you some books?”

Hope smiles and shakes her head. “I’m perfect in here, but thank you for asking. The only thing I need is my lid.” She points to the round lid on the ground at Carl’s feet.

Negan plucks it up as he stands. “Shall we destroy the map that brought us here, or circulate it once again to maybe bring others here?” he asks as he hands her the lid.

“That is up to you to decide,” Hope says. “Just know that the more who find me, the more chances for me to get stolen.”

Carl’s vote is immediately for destroying the map. He knows very well that there aren’t many out there as good as they are.

“It was wonderful to meet you, Hope. Thank you,” he tells her with a smile.

“Thank you, Sir Carlton, Captain Negan, and your crew. I couldn’t have asked for better visitors, and I will remember you always,” Hope says, sighing contently and filling the air with the gentle feeling of optimism. “I wish you good fortune on your journeys hereafter.”

Carl feels unendingly lighter after she says that. Lacking in words he just nods carefully and watches as she begins to settle herself back in the pithos.

“Sleep well, Hope,” Negan says softly, giving a little wiggle of his fingers before looping his arm around Dwight’s waist to help him counterbalance. He looks at the coin in Dwight’s hand and smiles. “Find something shiny, love?”

“Aye, a Greek coin,” Dwight says, showing Negan the stamped silver. “To remember this all by.”

Carl leans forward, tapping it. “I can twist up a wire to hold it, turn it into a necklace charm so it doesn’t need a hole in it, if you want.”

“Aye, I’d like that. Thank you, lad,” Dwight says with a smile, tucking Carl’s hair behind his ear to show off his new sapphire eye better. “How’d you manage to find such a smooth gem? Does it feel alright for you?”

“Negan found it, got Hope to clean it up for me,” he answers softly, still a little in awe of the whole thing. “I’ll get used to it, I’m sure.”

“Good then. Well, shall we gather everyone and get out of Hope’s hair? Seems she’s quite the sleepy lass, eh?” Dwight asks, looking at the reclosed pithos.

“Think we’ll make it back before dark?” Negan asks, helping Dwight walk towards the rest of the crew who are now showing off their finds to each other. “We could always set up a little camp in the temple until morning.”

“Best to sleep upstairs probably. Bigger space to spread out,” Carl comments. “Cook brought some rations and we can make up the difference with the peaches,” he tacks on, eyeing Dwight’s ankle concernedly.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Negan says with a nod.

Addressing the crew, he herds them back upstairs after a few give whispered goodbyes and bows to Hope. The trapdoor closes behind the last of them and doesn’t seem like it’ll be opening again anytime soon.

“I’m sure the other sconces are safe to light if we want more visibility,” Carl says gesturing to the offering disks in front of the statues. “Hope would have warned us otherwise.”

“I’m on it,” John says with a salute towards Carl, rushing off to crack his flint at every god’s altar. It grows steadily brighter within the temple as he gets them lit, and even the air warms up pleasantly.

Negan helps Dwight sit down and lean against a pillar, drawing his hurt leg out straight. “Is it worse?” Negan asks, rolling up the cuff of Dwight’s trousers. The pale skin of his ankle is lightly bruised, but at least no bones look out of place.

“Nah, same as before, just… Walking around hasn’t helped ease it, you know?” Dwight says with a hiss and a dry chuckle.

Carl sits at Dwight’s feet criss-cross and takes the blonde’s foot gently in his lap. Removing the man’s boot he eyes the bruising.

“I’m going to wrap it, tightly. It’s going to ache but I want to keep it in place,” Carl says, pulling a roll of bandaging from one of his pockets. “If it still aches when we are back on Lucille tomorrow we’re going to soak it, and I’m putting arnica all over it.”

Dwight sighs and nods. “Yeah, alright. Go ahead,” he says, steeling himself for the pain he knows is going to flare through his leg as Carl wraps him up.

“What’s arnica?” Negan asks, taking Dwight’s hand and squeezing it supportively.

“Those little yellow and white flowers we keep seeing all over the place,” the boy says as he carefully but firmly wraps Dwight’s ankle. “I’ve had Carson and Marco collecting them. I can make a paste for bruising and swelling with them.”

“Ah, I see,” Negan says, pressing a kiss to Dwight’s temple as he breathes tightly through the ache. “Carl will have you fit as a fiddle in no time, love.”

“You put too much faith in me,” Carl says fondly, securing the bandages. “But I’ll do my best.”

“We know you will, hun,” Dwight says with a soft grimace. “Thank you.” He slumps tiredly against Negan, sighing softly. “I do feel bad for getting myself hurt. Such a dumb thing I could have done.”

“Cheer up, dear heart,” Carl says gently, leaning up to peck the blond on the lips. “Enzo still thinks I haven’t figured out he has a dislocated shoulder.”

Dwight snorts and laughs, reaching up to cup Carl’s cheek with his hand. “I think you should go fix that for him, lad. Would be the kind thing to do.”

“Oh, my heart,” Carl says with a cutting smile as he reaches up to pat Dwight’s hand. “He’s going to hate me afterwards, especially since he didn’t tell me immediately.”

“Oh, yes. I’m aware.” Dwight laughs again. “C’mere. Kiss for good luck and then go take care of him, yeah? He’ll thank you later on.”

Carl lets himself be pulled in for a real kiss, melting into it a little. When he pulls away he gives Dwight’s hand one more squeeze before moving to stand. “Sure, right after John finishes doting on him, maybe.”

“Just make sure he doesn’t hurt himself further,” Negan says with an eye roll. “I swear, these men.” Dwight chuckles and turns to press his face into the side of Negan’s neck, closing his eyes and just soaking in the warmth.

It takes bitching and whining and Carson holding Enzo still because John is too worried to be of any help, but Carl is able to crack the man’s arm back in place pretty easily. He does some rounds after, making sure there’s no one else trying to get away with hiding injuries.

It doesn’t take long before Carl is dropping back down next to his lovers just about ready to pocket his new eye and sleep the night away. “Is it wrong of me to say I already miss the ship?”

Negan chuckles, finishing off the little bit of ration Cook passed around to everyone. Dwight is asleep against him, snoring softly from being propped up. “Nah, I get it. Ship’s got a nice warm bed ‘n food in her belly. Here we’re gonna be sleeping on polished stone. Not really a comparison.”

“It’s more that it’s safer there for me,” Carl admits softly wondering if he’ll be able to get any good sleep at all between waking up to scope out if everyone is safe. “But that, too, I suppose.”

“Think we’re not safe here?” Negan asks, reaching out to wrap his free arm around Carl and tug him in on the opposite side of Dwight. “Don’t suppose Hope would have warned us if we weren’t?”

“Sure, she would’ve,” the boy mumbles around a yawn, tilting his head against his lover’s shoulder, “but logic doesn’t really help the paranoia my hindbrain feeds me at all hours.”

Negan hums and presses a kiss to Carl’s head. He wishes Carl wasn’t so anxious, though he does think it’s lovely how he cares for the crew. “It’ll be alright, pet. Take a rest. You deserve it. You can check on everyone later.”

Carl lets a sigh slip out and reaches up, prodding gently under his eye to push the sapphire out into his other hand. He wraps it in some gauze and slips it into his pocket, sagging back against the pillar.

Negan gives him another soft kiss before settling back himself, falling into sleep with his lovers surrounding him.

Chapter 39

Summary:

The crew heads out, satisfied with their adventure.

Notes:

R: Y’all were so close to the end! It’s so exciting ahhhh!

 

“Here they come! I can see ‘em!”

The few crewmen who decided to stay aboard the ship breathe a sigh of relief as their captain and their friends appear from the tree line.

“Told ye they was fine.”

“You didn’t know shite!”

“Quit yer bickerin’ ‘n get the plank down!”

Most of the land crew rush to get back aboard the ship, but Negan, and subsequently Dwight who’s still leaning on him, stops on the edge of the dock and turns to look back at the island. The afternoon sun lights up the temple on the hill like a gleaming palace, and Negan tries to commit it to memory so he can draw it later.

Carl stops next to them, following the captain’s line of sight. “Feels odd, doesn’t it?”

He slides his hands into the outer pockets of his coat. “I mean we’ve only been here for a day, I know, but it’s just so peaceful. Hard to pull yourself away knowing you can’t come back.”

“Yeah,” Negan breathes, running his hand across Carl’s back and tugging him in close. “This is it. This was what our map led us to. We did it. We found it. We have some mementos to take back, stories to tell. We’ve still got the return trip, but this is it.” He sighs. “I feel so satisfied and yet…”

“And yet you aren’t fulfilled yet,” Carl fills in, leaning into the Captain’s hold. “Don’t worry, once you get to make a big production of our whole adventure to King Ezekiel I think you’ll settle in a bit.”

He glances across Negan’s form to Dwight, hoping to convey the idea that soon enough Negan will be itching for another adventure no matter how he feels now. He can’t help but let his lips quirk up at the idea that they’ll be there for that one too.

“Oh, yes! I can’t wait to tell Zeke everything! He’s going to love all of it.” Negan grins, some of his lost excitement coming back. “Enzo requested we make a stop in Italy as we head back, but after that I think it’s a straight shot to The Kingdom, yeah? Unless anyone else has other requests?”

“None from me,” Carl hums, shifting to allow himself to be moved towards the ship, “though if we’re stopping in Italy I’m taking the chance to have good bread and wine.”

“You can have all the bread and wine you want, pet,” Negan says with a laugh, taking one last look at the island before following Carl up the dock with Dwight in tow.

“I can’t wait for some fresh pasta,” Dwight says with a dreamy hum.

“Oh, yum, pasta,” Carl groans softly. “I’m going to gain a stone while we’re there, I can feel it.”

“Mm… It’ll just help fill you out in all the right places,” Negan says with a smirk, pinching Carl’s ass to emphasize his words.

Carl contains the instinctive swipe in Negan’s direction but just barely, arm jerking awkwardly. He glares back at the man with only a touch of real heat. “Don’t do that.”

Negan just snickers and waves his hand innocently through the air, so tempted to do it again just to spite Carl. “I’ll kiss it better later, pet. Go on now. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“I’m committing mutiny,” Carl grumbles as they slip on board. “I’m taking over your ship. I’m going to plant fruit at your helm and make all of your men wear silk.”

Laughing heartily, Negan reaches for Carl again. “Oh, yeah? You promise? I’d love to see you try and get these men to wear anything so fancy.”

“The fruit idea isn’t so bad,” Dwight comments, pushing against Negan to get him to let go so he can sit atop a nearby barrel.

“Not fancy,” Carl huffs, leaning against Dwight’s barrel, well aware that his own clothes don’t really back up that statement. “Soft, breathable, easy to move in. You can wear silk and it not be…” He rolls his wrist, trying to summon the word. “…ornamental.”

“Uh huh.” Negan’s gaze runs up and down Carl only a second before his greedy hands slip in under Carl’s coat and grip at his waist. “Well, Captain Carl, are you going to give a rousing speech before we shove off? Inspire the crew and congratulate them on a job well done?”

Carl rolls his eye, and the motion feels extra strange with the sapphire in his socket. “Oh, go be a showman. We both know I would never.” He tries not to feel too physically nauseated at the sound of Negan calling him captain. Hopefully it doesn’t show on his face that the joke went too far, and he never should have started it.

Grinning, Negan leans in and presses a kiss to Carl’s cheek, giving him a squeeze as he lingers for just a moment in Carl’s space. “Mm, love you, pet,” he says softly before leaning back and reaching for Dwight next, who ends up laughing into a kiss as Negan trails his fingers up his sides.

“You menace. Go get this damn ship started so I can eat some pasta,” he says, batting Negan off of him.

“Aye, aye!” With one last glance at his lovers Negan trots up the stairs to the helm, gathering attention as he delves right into his speech.

Dwight just shakes his head and runs his fingers through Carl’s hair. “How do we put up with him?”

Carl snorts, leaning into the touch, nausea replaced by the warm feeling he always gets when Negan says something affectionate like that. “You know half the time I’m asking myself how he puts up with me.”

Dwight chuckles. “I wonder sometimes how he’s not bored with me,” he says. “Whenever I push away his advances, go sleep in my own bed… I know he knows sometimes I just can’t handle intimacy, but I still end up feeling bad anyway.” Sighing, Dwight looks up at Negan gesturing loudly on the helm.

“As if anyone could ever be bored of you,” Carl says, tilting his head back against the man to get a look at him. “Besides, I don’t think you should feel bad. I think part of him likes the idea of having to seduce you all over again.”

Dwight snorts and smiles down at Carl, brushing away his hair from his face and tracing his features with nimble fingers. “Well, when you put it that way… I suppose so, hm?”

Carl hums, eye slipping closed as he lets the sounds of the ship settle around them. “It’s sweet how much he loves you. A lot of the time I feel special just because I’m allowed to see it so closely.”

“Same goes for you, lad. The way he looks at you…” Dwight sighs dreamily. “It’s so lovely. And you bring about a gentle carefulness in him that’s so nice to see.“

Carl can feel the heat spreading across his face so he doesn’t open his eye, better to just be flushed without the eye contact. “Yes, well, I won’t say it isn’t nice. Not much gentleness to be found elsewhere.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Dwight brushes his fingers over Carl’s pink cheeks with a soft laugh. “We’re so lucky to have him, and each other.”

With a hum, Carl finally opens his eye and gives Dwight a soft smile. “Well you won’t find me disagreeing with that.”

Grinning, Dwight taps Carl on the nose just as there’s a cheer from the crew. It seems Negan’s speech is over, so everyone is running to their places to hoist the anchor and let out the sails and set course away from the magical island that exists on no map.

“Do you need help to the captain’s cabin or your hammock?” Carl questions. “I’m planning to go make at least a little arnica paste after we’re fully on course.”

“Yes, the cabin please. Think that’ll be easier for keeping my ankle straight,” Dwight says, pushing himself off the barrel and landing on his good foot. He wraps an arm around Carl as he gingerly sets his other down on the deck. “Thank you, dear.”

“There’s no need to thank me, my heart,” the boy says, looping his arm around the blonde’s waist to take some of the man’s weight before walking them slowly to the cabin.

 

~

 

They stay in Italy for a few days, refueling and seeing the sights.

Dwight eats so much pasta the first day, he’s laid out with a stomach ache the next, one that he claims was very worth it.

Negan picks up a few bottles of wine for his personal stash while they’re there, tucking them away in his cabin for later.

Carl spends his time in Italy alternating between exploring with crew members, hustling money out of people's pockets, and filling his belly with anything delicious he can find. His clothes aren’t tighter when they leave, but he still insists he’s gained at least half a stone as well as a terrible love for potato based pastas.

~

 

The seas are smooth, weather fair with light storms every so often, as they make their way to The Kingdom. It takes just a few weeks before the lush land is visible on the horizon.

“I wish we had a way to alert Ezekiel of our coming. You know he’d put on a big greeting at the docks if he knew,” Dwight says, leaning against the rail and letting the wind and sea spray whip his hair about. He’s probably due for a cut by now.

“I suppose shooting a cannon up in the air would do more to worry them than let them know we’re on the way,” Carl says, light and joking from where he’s sprawled semi-precariously on the railing next to the man.

“Aye, I think so,” Dwight says, keeping half an eye on Carl in case he begins to fall.

“What we need is a carrier pigeon,” Negan says as he appears, stepping up aside the two. “Tie a little note to its leg and let it go.”

Carl scrunches his nose up. “Lord, I hate carrier pigeons. There has to be a better way, I just cannot for the life of me think of one.” He turns his head towards land, squinting. “Perhaps someone will see the ship on approach and tell him.”

“Perhaps,” Dwight says with a shrug.

“What’s wrong with carrier pigeons?” Negan asks with an astounded face, crossing his arms over his chest.

“For one thing, hawks are far superior,” Carl says imperiously, some of the poshness coming out in his voice. “They can carry more, weather the elements far easier, and won’t starve to death over long distances.

“Secondly,” the boy wrinkles up his nose, “pigeons are so messy.”

“Well, look at fancy-pants over here slandering the good name of pigeons,” Negan huffs with a roll of his eyes. “Hawks are fine, but they require too much for food. Pigeons are easier to care for, and they don’t even need training. They just know where they’re going. Also both of those birds are messy, that’s just what you get with animals.”

“They’re hunting animals,” Carl points out, well aware that this is a dumb argument but unwilling to give in. “You don’t even have to provide the food, especially out here on the water where they can get fish.”

Negan makes a face and shakes his head. “And then you have to deal with having fish carcasses all over your ship. Disgusting.”

“Obviously, you’re both wrong,” Dwight pipes up, just wanting this inane discussion to be over. “Truly the best bird for a pirate on the seas is a parrot.”

Carl opens his mouth to disagree, but abruptly decides he doesn’t want to argue with Dwight. “If that’s how you feel, dear heart.”

Dwight grins in delight while Negan sputters behind him. “Wha- But- Oh, uh huh. Okay. I see how it is,” he says, looking away from Carl and raising his nose up in a dramatic flourish of ignoring him.

Carl can’t help but laugh, head tilted back against the railing. Once his mirth quiets he can’t help but breathe a pleased little sound. “Oh, I don’t know how I got along without you two.”

“Pretty poorly, no doubt,” Negan says, already forgetting that he was supposed to be mad at Carl. He sidles up closer and wraps a loose arm around Carl’s waist, leaning down to nuzzle his face into Carl’s hair with a pleasant hum.

Carl reaches up to scritch his nails through Negan’s hair with a hum. “Pretty poorly indeed.”

Negan hums and smiles, purring like the big cat he is. Dwight watches the two with adoring eyes, The Kingdom in the distance forgotten for the moment.

“Lean any farther into me and we might be swimming to shore,” Carl jokes knowing that someone would fish them out of the water long before that became an option.

Negan chuckles and tightens his grip on Carl’s waist. “I wouldn’t let you fall, my dear pet,” he says, pressing a kiss to Carl’s temple.

He hums and leans back to straighten up, looking off to gauge how much longer it might be until they dock. “We’ve still got a while. Let’s get a final count on everything and make sure everyone’s received their pay so they can have a good time when we land.”

“Master Dwight and I have already separated out the two groupings,” Carl says with an easy hum, holding his hands out so Negan can pull him from his prone position across the railing. “With all the extra soy and lye I picked up in Italy, I also have some full sized soap bars we can sell while we’re ported to supplement some of the money we couldn’t pick up on Hope’s island,” he tacks on.

“Wonderful,” Negan says, hoisting Carl up from his spot and making sure he gets two feet on the deck before he even thinks about letting go. “Such marvelous work done by a fantastic first mate and an exquisite quartermaster. This ship would not sail without you.”

“Oh I assure you, your Lucille is wiley enough to sail without any of us,” Carl says teasingly with a click of his tongue, “I daresay she’d get on much better without us around picking fights all the time.”

“That’s what you think, but my Lucille is bloodthirsty! She loves a good fight, even if it’s just a verbal one.” Negan pats the rail like one might pat a horse. “She’s a feisty one. Always has been. Always will.”

Carl tosses a grin over to Dwight. “Seems he has a type, no?”

“He has many,” Dwight says with a snort, turning to lean against the rail with his hip.

“Aye, but you two are my favorite.” Negan sings the last word, reaching out to gather the two into his arms and squeeze them both close in a forced group hug.

Carl twists in Negan’s arms so as not to get his elbow or his sword hilt in Dwight’s side. Prodding his fingers into the captain’s side and brushing his lips across the man’s neck at the same time, Carl works to get the grip loose.

“Yes, yes. You’re our favorite too, love,” he says fondly, “but we really should pass out pay before the men make us swim to shore.”

Negan laughs softly, pressing noisy kisses to both of his lover’s cheeks before letting them go. “Yes, yes. C’mon then. Let’s hop to it.”

They pass out payments and Carl takes time to pass out little cube soaps to everyone for their time on land with actual baths. It doesn’t take very long for everyone to get squared away. By the time Negan reminds everyone to whistle for help if they need it, and when the first group will trade with the second group for land time, they’re close enough to The Kingdom to actually start docking.

Carl gathers his things while the crew goes about their work. A small bag with some clothes and a journal is joined by his big basket of soap bars wrapped in paper. He brings them up from the brig to meet up with Dwight and Negan, a bounce in his step.

“Ready?” Negan and Dwight also have bags with them, slung over their shoulders filled with some clothes and books and a bottle of wine to name a few things. They move towards the gangplank as the boat is anchored and docked, helping to set it up and see off the first round of crew. They follow quickly after, leaving the ship in good hands.

“Need any help holding that?” Dwight asks, gesturing to Carl’s soap basket as they step onto the dock. The sounds of the market in the marina are already floating over them, the familiar voices of sellers and buyers haggling mixed with strange animal calls.

“Thank you, but I can carry it,” Carl answers, eyes already drifting around. He thinks he could spend a hundred lifetimes in this place and still be awed by it. “I’m wondering if I can sell them to the bathhouse, or if I should just plop a table nearby one day and see how it goes.”

“We can check when we go in. I’m sure the bath house would love them.”

With the basket on his arm he’s less inclined to swipe things as they move through the crowd, but really some people make it too easy, and Carl still has several new sparklies by the time they make their way to the less crowded areas on the way to the castle.

Chapter 40

Summary:

The boys arrive back in the kingdom!

Notes:

R: So close to the end only a couple more weeks ahh

Also for your listening pleasure we’ve made a playlist on Spotify for this fic! Enjoy:
Open Waters on Spotify

 

Negan is a grinning, giggling mess by the time they reach the castle courtyard, trying to urge Dwight and Carl along faster through the front gardens. “Calm down. We’re here already. The castle and Ezekiel ain’t going nowhere,” Dwight huffs with a laugh at the sight of Negan practically bouncing on his feet at the door. He waits until Dwight and Carl are in finally in the entranceway before knocking loudly on the door.

It creaks open not a minute later. “Ah, back so soon, Captain Negan?”

“You know I can’t stay away, Sir Jerry!” Negan gives a little bow as Jerry opens up the door wide enough for them to file in. “Zeke in?”

“The king is in his laboratory right now. I’ll escort you to the throne room before sending word for him to come up and greet you.”

Carl wraps both hands around the handle of his basket as they walk into the throne room, determined not to swipe anything from their friend. He’s most excited to share all of the valuable medical intel he gathered from treating his own eye and the other crew members’ wounds while they were gone. The journal the king gave him is a weight in his bag.

“Do you suppose I should have brought a gift for Shiva as well,” he asks as they wait. “I wouldn’t want the lovely woman to feel left out.”

“I think some good scritches would work well enough, but we can always pick up a fish from the market later if you’d like,” Dwight says, looking around the room like it’s the first time he’s seen it. From the stained glass to the glittering jewels and fabrics stacked up, it’s always a sight to see.

“I’m sure she’s exceptionally well fed,” the boy decides lightly. “And it’s not like I brought the king anything substantial, just my notes and my descriptions of the sirens for Negan’s art.”

“I think that’s wildly substantial, lad,” Dwight says with pride in his voice, running his hand down Carl’s hair. It’s hard to believe the last time they were here Carl was almost still a stranger to them.

“I brought him wine,” Negan pipes up, pointing to his bag like an excited child.

“Because I’m sure he doesn’t have any of that,” Dwight stage whispers towards Carl good-naturedly.

Carl muffles a laugh behind his palm, basket shifting a little as its weight settles in only one hand. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, but I believe he’ll appreciate your stories more, my love.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Negan waves them off, perking up as the sound of doors opening echoes through the room.

“Presenting his royal majesty, King Ezekiel, and his lady, Shiva!” Brisk footsteps sound from behind the throne, the king and his tiger appearing not a moment later. Ezekiel grins wide as he spots the trio and approaches them with open arms.

“Ah! Friends! It is so good to see you safe and sound back from your journey!” He engulfs Negan in a hug, the furs he’s wearing practically swallowing the captain up as he hugs back. “Oh, I must hear everything and tell you of some things as well!”

Carl is already dropping into a crouch when he sees Shiva, crooked smile gracing his features as he sets his basket aside and waits to see if she’ll allow him the pleasure. A happy sound escapes him as she practically barrels into him, and he half hugs the tiger, burying his face in her fur and digging his fingers into her ruff. “Hello, my lady! You look beautiful as always!”

Shiva chuffs softly and purrs loudly, rubbing her furry cheek against Carl in greeting. Dwight pats at her back haunch until Ezekiel pulls him into a hug of his own.

“Oh! Hello, my lord.”

“Been keeping him in check, Master Dwight?”

“As always.”

Ezekiel grins and pats Dwight’s cheek before turning his attention to Carl. “And looky here! My what a difference some time aboard a pirate ship will make!” He plucks Carl up and into a hug, leaving Shiva to give a low whine.

Carl can’t help but burrow a bit into Ezekiel’s hold. The big, warm presence of the king is something he will always be drawn to.

“Good differences, I’d like to think,” he says into the man’s chest. “How have you been, your majesty?”

“Very well, Stowaway Carlton,” Ezekiel says with a loud laugh that shakes Carl in his arms. “Or, should I say, Wanted Carlton? You’ve gained a bit of a reputation from the navy, you know? Did you really bring down an admiral like the posters say?”

“I can assure you, he deserved it,” Carl says, leftover malice staining his voice as he loosens his arms around the king a bit. His voice goes back to light as he continues, “It seems I have a never ending list of names and titles these days.”

“Wait, wait. What posters?” Negan asks from where he’s now crouched down and rubbing Shiva’s belly.

“Oh? Have you not seen them?” Ezekiel asks. “I’ve had a few visitors bring them in from other ports.”

“We didn’t really stop at popular ports during our trip,” Dwight says.

“Ah, yes. Of course. Here let me see…” Letting go of Carl, Ezekiel turns and steps aside to dig through a gilded end table. “I have it here somewhere…” Negan stands and moves closer, almost getting hit as Ezekiel pulls back with an exclamation. “Here!”

He hands the poster to Negan who begins to read, “For crimes against the Royal Navy and Her Majesty…” His eyes suddenly widen before he devolves into laughter. “Wait! Oh lord- Who- Who drew this?”

Carl hops over, leaning heavily around Negan’s shoulder. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or make a disgusted noise at the picture they used for the prints.

“Technically this would be the most recent visage of me other than your renderings,” he points out. “It seems to be copied from my bachelor painting for the marriage contracts my mother was sending out.”

This just makes Negan laugh even harder, doubling over as he wheezes. Dwight takes the poster from his hand before it can get crumpled and looks at it himself.

“Oh… Oh my.” He can’t help but chuckle a little as well. “Well, you were still as handsome back then as you are now, though with your eye gone, these posters are wildly inaccurate for numerous reasons.”

“Eye gone?” It’s then that Ezekiel really looks at Carl, taking in every feature. He reaches out and cups his face in his hands, gasping at the sight of a sapphire where Carl’s right eye once was. “What?! How did you lose an eye?!”

Carl is still recovering from Negan doubling over under him when Ezekiel pulls him around so he cannot be held responsible for his absolutely awful response of: “Oh, I lost sight of it somewhere between here and Greece,” in his most flippant tone.

That puts Negan on the floor, getting sniffed by Shiva as he struggles to pull in air around his laughter. Dwight quickly picks up his captain's hat from where it's rolled off onto the floor.

Ezekiel doesn’t find it quite as funny as he stares at Carl, brushing his thumb over the scar on his cheek. “It’s healed very well,” he notes. “I’m sure you had a hand in that. I am sorry you had to experience something like this.”

“Hm,” Carl voices, unable to be truly solemn with Negan cackling on the floor next to them. “Better this than other things, I believe. Besides, it’s seems I adapt and heal quickly.”

“Aye, that as it may be…” Ezekiel looks over to where Dwight is trying to pull Negan up as he descends into a coughing fit. “Why don’t you tell me the whole story over dinner tonight, yes? And I must hear of your adventure! You went to Greece, you said? Wonderful!”

“And Italy, and part of Africa, I think?” Carl tilts his head in thought. “Negan will be able to tell it all better, I’m sure,” he brushes off. “I was just around mother henning the men and causing trouble.”

Ezekiel grins and pats Carl’s cheek. “I would expect nothing less, lad. Now, let me show you to your rooms! Set your stuff down, get settled, and I will have a wonderful dinner made up for us!”

Helping Negan up, Ezekiel gives him a few pats to the back as he finally comes down from his laughing fit, wiping away the tears from his eyes. “Fuck. Haven’t laughed like that in ages. Can we keep that poster?”

“Of course.” Ezekiel chuckles, guiding the trio off to the same hall of rooms they used the last time.

“It’s utterly horrible,” Carl deadpans as he keeps pace with the men, basket of soaps once again in hand. “Do try to keep it out of my line of sight.” He quirks his brows at Negan who will be the least bothered about the joke. “Shouldn’t be too hard, should it, love?”

“I’m tacking it up above my bed,” Negan snarks back with a silly grin. “Gonna look at it for company when I don’t have you there with me.”

“Oh, you’ll be looking at it a long time if I have to come in that room and see that thing,” Carl clucks. “I mean between the pieces of my eye on your shelf and everything you’ve drawn of me, there has to be better company than a painting I loathed the whole time it was being painted.”

Ezekiel gives Dwight a look, eyebrows raised. Dwight just shakes his head and silently tells Ezekiel that they’ll explain later.

“Should I submit one of my better drawings to be used in future posters, you think?” Negan says, looping his arm around Carl’s waist. “I’ve got a few that I think show off your good sides.”

“Every side is my good side,” Carl says faux-haughtily, not pulling away from the captain’s hold, “but we both know I wouldn’t trust you to send anything appropriate.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t share anything that’s for my and Dwight’s eyes only, pet. I’m too possessive for that.” Negan leans in to press a quick kiss to Carl’s head, laughing softly as Ezekiel gives Dwight another look. Oh, the king will be full of questions by time dinner rolls around.

Carl hums. “Knowing you, my love, you’ll send in a comic of me killing the admiral in cold blood, and it will be a whole scandal.”

“Oh, I should draw that,” Negan says, tapping his chin. “I’d hang that above my bed for sure.”

“Of all the things to hang over your bed, dearest, I do believe you can come up with something far more lovely,” Carl says with a shake of his head.

“I’m a simple man,” Negan says with a snort and a shrug. “Maybe I’ll just put up a drawing of your co-”

Carl’s hand flies up to slap across Negan’s mouth before the man is interrupted.

“And we’re here!” Ezekiel claps his hands and gestures to a door on his right. “For Master Dwight, the room with the largest windows. Across the hall is for Captain Negan, and down just a few steps is for Admiral Slayer Carlton.” He turns to look at the trio, taking in the sight of all of them together. “The dressers are stocked with clothes. Feel free to use whatever you wish. Place anything dirty near the door and it will be laundered and returned the next day. All the same as any other visit.”

The boy gives Negan a wide eyed, punishing look, before separating himself and trying not to flush too brightly as he meets the king’s gaze. “We thank you for your kindness, your majesty. But please, just Carl is fine. Lord knows no one else addresses me with titles.”

Ezekiel smiles and places a hand to Carl’s head. “Just Carl. Right. I remember now.” He moves to leave back the way they came. “We dine at six. Same place as always.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Dwight says with a bow. “As always.” Negan gives a nod and a short bow as well before Ezekiel heads off with a flourish of his furs.

As the king disappears around the corner, Carl shoots Negan an exasperated look. “Talk about my cock in front of someone else again and Dwight just might let me drown you.”

Dwight snorts and drops a kiss to Carl’s head before turning and heading into his room, leaving Negan spluttering for himself. “Oh, come now! I didn’t even say anything about it. I was merely going to mention its existence.”

“Its existence hardly needs to be pointed out,” Carl huffs, turning and stepping into his room from last time, kicking the door closed lightly. “Honestly.”

 

~

 

About an hour later, there’s a soft knock on Carl’s door, Negan’s voice on the other side. “Hey, pet. Are you awake?” It’s soft, as if he’s trying not wake Carl incase he is asleep.

Carl looks up from the dress he’s been inspecting, moving over to the door from where he’d been tracing a swath of embroidery. He palms the door open and blinks up at Negan. “Is it dinner already?”

“No, we’ve got a while yet,” Negan says, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s just, uh, Dwight is taking a little pre-dinner nap, and I was a little lonely. So I was wondering if you’d be amiable to some company or if you were still mad at me?”

“I am never going to be mad enough at you to turn you away if you’re lonely,” Carl says softly, stepping away from the door. “Should I grab some funds for exploration or should we abscond to the library? I think I saw some chess tables in there last we were here.”

“We can do chess,” Negan says, tapping the door open a bit more. He’s changed into softer clothes, less layers, and seems to have washed his face. “Before that, though, I was also kind of wondering… Oh, what’s that?” His eyes have fallen onto the dress Carl was admiring, attention snapped like a taut string.

Carl can’t help a bubble of amusement at Negan’s easy distraction. He waves a hand at the red and gold fabric spread across the bed. “It was in the wardrobe. I daresay it’s even more beautiful than the skirt I stole last time.”

“Yeah, it is.” Negan lets his eyes glide over the red silk and golden embroidery, trying to imagine it on Carl. “Fancier too. You’d need a party or somethin’ to wear that to, but damn if I wouldn’t love to see you in it.” He hums, lost in his imagination for a moment.

“Not much place for a dress like that on a ship, pirate or otherwise,” the boy jokes, albeit with a little disappointment.

Negan chuckles and nods. “We’ll have a talk with Zeke. See if we can’t get a little ball thrown, huh? And if not, maybe you can wear it about town, and I can be lucky enough to have you on my arm.”

Carl suppresses a flattered smile, chest going a little tight at the suggestion. “Thoughtful of you. I’d be honored.”

Negan smiles and gives a little bow. “I’d be the honored one.” He gently takes Carl’s hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it. For a second he’s afraid he’s crossed the line with a hand kiss, remembering what they mean to Carl, but then remembers that they’ve passed that point in their relationship. It’s a complete flip from the last time they were here when Negan could hardly get Carl to even sleep in the same bed.

His smile can no longer be pushed down. Carl squeezes Negan’s hand. “I suppose we can both be honored, no law against it.”

He gives one last glance at the dress before gesturing to the door figuring Negan can ask what he wants on the way to the library. “Shall we go, love?”

“Ah, right.” Negan makes a quick step into the hall before stopping abruptly. “I wanted to ask if you could…” He points to his jaw where his beard is longer than it’s been in a while. “Perhaps shave me? I could do it myself, but, uh… I like when someone else does it.”

Carl blinks in surprise. “I could, yes.”

He doesn’t have problems with facial hair himself, but he’s tested the sharpness of his blades by shaving off hair enough to know how much pressure is needed for it. Not to mention his exceptional coordination.

It does seem a little odd for the moment however. “Now? Or when we visit the bathhouse?”

“Oh… Yeah, the bathhouse does make more sense doesn’t it,” Negan says, scratching at his neck. “We can do it there. I’ll bring my kit when we go.”

Carl curls their arms together, leaning against the man’s side with a soft chuckle. “You know, last time we were here, I would have balked at the idea of you letting me put a blade to you like that.”

Negan snorts and nods, tugging Carl along as they begin to make their way to the library. “My shoulder was still oozing from where you had put a blade in me.”

“I maintain that you deserved it at the time,” Carl says lightly, but this is an old song and dance at this point. “I’m sure one day you’ll get me back.”

“Mhm, one day I’ll get something in you,” Negan says with a playful growl.

“You only have to play your cards right, my love,” Carl says fondly, patting the man’s arm as they round a corner. It truly shocks him that Negan and Dwight don’t seem to take notice of how easy he is for them.

“I know,” Negan says with a smile, tugging Carl just a little closer.

 

~

 

They play a few rounds of chess before heading back up to wake Dwight and then make their way to dinner. Ezekiel is waiting for them in the cozy dining room filled with pillows and candles, Shiva snoozing at the head of the table.

“You know, as good as Cook is, I really missed this,” Carl comments, taking his old place next to the king after a small bow.

Ezekiel smiles and pets a hand down Carl’s head in greeting as Negan and Dwight sit on their cushions across the table. The table boasts an array of food from South America. Colorful rice, corn based items, and spiced meat line the table.

“It is nice to have you back. I missed our dinner talks,” Ezekiel says, moving a tortilla to his plate and beginning to scoop various fillings onto it.

“Yes, because I’m such a wordsmith,” Carl jokes easily, not bothering with the tortilla yet. He wants to mix all the ingredients he thinks are good together and then spread it across a tortilla to try.

“Your input is appreciated, no matter the amount,” Ezekiel says. “It is so interesting to see what a few months away have done for you though. Look at your outfit! Why, when you first showed up here you were so… particular. The sea has roughened your edges in a good way.”

Carl clicks his tongue looking down at his fitted velvet pants and his gold and sage coat. “I beg to differ, I’m dressed much prettier than last I was here.”

“Aye, but in a way you are dressed more… you. I don’t quite know how to describe it,” Ezekiel says with a wiggle of his fingers.

“Well,” Carl hums, mixing together his rice, beans and vegetables while reaching for a corn tortilla, “I suppose I cannot argue with that.”

Ezekiel chuckles and then turns to Negan and Dwight, watching the former already taking a huge bite of his stuffed tortilla. “Now, please, tell me of the adventure! Did the map work? What did you find?”

They fall into easy conversation mostly led by Negan telling their tale across the seas. Of finding each clue and facing down foes. He tells of Dwight throwing the lantern to set the pillar ablaze, making him smile and blush. He turns things over to Carl when they get to the mermaids, but can’t help to interrupt when he thinks Carl isn’t describing them as well as he did to Negan before.

Near the end, Negan pulls out his bottle of wine for Ezekiel and they have a grand toast to friends and adventures. Dwight shows off his drachma that Carl wrapped nicely in wire, and Carl shows his sapphire, their spoils from the island.

“Oh! We should grab a peach seed from the boat for Ezekiel to plant,” Negan says, thumping his hand onto the cleared table and looking at Carl. “He’s got a whole fruit tree orchard, but I bet he’s never had a peach like that.”

“I’ve been making Cook save all of them. We will only be able to fit one on the ship if I want a lemon tree too,” Carl points out before glancing over at the king. “You can have as many as you want. I’m led to believe they too are blessed.”

“I would love to add some blessed peaches to my fields. Thank you,” Ezekiel says. “If you need any seeds or cuttings from my lemon trees, or any other fruit, you are very welcome to them.”

“I’ll have to take you up on that,” Carl says with a nod, mostly to himself. “It will take forever for it all to grow enough to fruit, but it’s not like we don’t have the time.”

“I think it will be very nice having fresh fruit on board,” Dwight says, finishing off his glass of wine and pushing it away from him on the table. He leans over, slipping his arm through Negan’s as he rests his head on Negan’s shoulder.

“I do as well,” Negan says, looking down at Dwight with a soft smile.

Carl tries not to kill the mood by bringing up the fact that it will probably take years for the trees to grow enough to fruit. “I’m sure it will be a novel experience. I’ve surely never seen a navy ship with fruit trees aboard.”

“Maybe we’ll start a new fashion for ships, eh?” Negan chuckles softly, turning his head to press a kiss to Dwight’s head. “Well, Zeke, dinner was amazing as usual, but I think I ought to get this one to bed.”

“Of course, my friends. You must be tired after such an adventure as the one you’ve been on. Are you planning on exploring the town tomorrow?”

“Think we’ll be visiting the bath house in the afternoon, yeah?” Negan looks to Carl for confirmation on their plans.

“Absolutely,” the boy confirms, pushing up onto his feet. The fuzzy uncomfortable feeling of sitting on his legs too long buzzes under his skin and he grimaces, rolling his ankles. “I have to see if they’ll buy soap and get you looking a little less scraggly.”

Negan hums happily and nods, helping Dwight up as they stand.

Ezekiel follows, walking with them out of the dining room. “Carl, would you be willing to share those notes you talked about with me tomorrow after your bath?”

“Of course,” Carl confirms easily, keeping pace with the three men as they slip out of the dining room. “I could leave you my journal if you’d like. Give you a chance to read through.”

“Oh, that would be marvelous! I thank you, Young Carl,” Ezekiel says with a grin, unable to resist tacking on some form of title every now and again.

Carl shakes his head slightly but gives no other comment. “I’m confident you can read my handwriting at least. It’s one of the few lessons that stuck with me.”

“Good. I’m glad that it has.” Ezekiel stops and wishes them goodnight at the base of the stairs, letting them climb up themselves.

Dwight breaks away to have a night to himself in the large, comfy bed, saying goodnight and giving Carl and Negan kisses beforehand. Negan stalls outside his door, looking at Carl with a question in his eyes. “You gonna go to yours, or would you like to sleep with me?”

The smile Carl gives is a little thin, he feels bad for ditching out on the man when Dwight has already gone his separate way but… “I’d like to spread out all comfortable tonight, but I’ll be with you tomorrow for sure, my love.”

“That’s fine, dear,” Negan says, drawing Carl in for a warm kiss and giving him a soft smile. “Sleep well, pet. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Notes:

R: If anyone wanted to draw Carl’s wanted poster, I’d love them forever just saying

Chapter 41

Summary:

Another trip to the bath house!

Notes:

R: I love when people shave each other in fics it’s so 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

 

Carl is already up when the breakfast trays are brought around, grabbing up his and moving down the hall to Negan’s room with a yawn. He manages to get the door open and get both their trays on the table before flopping heavily across the man’s body to try and jostle him awake.

“Mm… Wha?” Negan barely jolts at the weight of Carl on him, reaching up to rub at his face with one hand and feel who’s on him with the other. When his fingers touch long hair he smiles sleepily and digs them in. “Hello, love,” he mumbles, yawning softly.

“Good morning,” Carl hums, pleased at the feel of Negan’s fingers digging through his hair. “They brought us fresh eggs.”

“Oh? Sounds delicious.” Blinking his eyes open, Negan looks down at Carl, massaging his fingers across Carl’s scalp. “Shall we eat in bed like heathens?”

“If you want me to sleep in this bed tonight then you’ll come to the table,” the boy says, poking and prodding the man in an attempt to encourage him to get up. “There’s toast as well, and I’m not sleeping with crumbs.”

Negan laughs and bats at Carl’s hands. “Alright, fair. At least c’mere, and let me kiss you good morning.”

Carl shifts, digging his knee into the bed for leverage and turning his body. He hovers over the captain, leaning down to drop a soft lengthy kiss on his mouth before pulling back. “Good morning, my love.”

“Mornin’, my dear,” Negan says with a grin, blinking slowly up at Carl. He reaches to cup Carl’s cheek in his palm, rubbing his thumb under Carl’s eye. “Mm… You look good up there. What a sight to wake up to.”

“As much as I love being in your lap,” Carl says honestly, “I am hungry, so maybe you can convince me to be in your lap later instead.”

“I’ll definitely do that.” Chuckling softly, Negan pushes himself up and kisses Carl once more before sitting all the way up and stretching his arms above his head. He looks over at the trays of food and feels his stomach grumble in response. “C’mon then. Let’s dig in.”

Sliding off the bed, Carl moves over to the table. Wondering if they should wake their other lover, he glances at the door he’s left open to see if Dwight has taken in his food yet.

“He’ll sleep a while yet,” Negan says, noticing Carl’s eye-line as he follows him to the table. “Always sleeps a lot the first couple days whenever we anchor somewhere with nice beds. I usually don’t notice it since I also usually sleep in, but…” He gives Carl a soft pointed look as he sits down in a chair. “We can wake him after we eat. Let him get a little more beauty sleep.”

“You know I have trouble sleeping in,” Carl sighs, a bit of apology in his tone. He takes his seat, plucking his fork from the tray. “I’ll endeavor to let you both sleep in tomorrow.”

“It’s alright, pet. I expect it from you at this point,” Negan says as he picks up a piece of toast and chomps down in it. He speaks again around his mouthful of bread. “I’d be concerned if you didn’t get up with the sun.”

Carl spares a thought for the last time he didn’t at least briefly wake for the sun. He touches the very bottom of the scar across his face before dropping his hand to eat. “I don’t know how you two manage to sleep in so much anyhow, but I do know he deserves his rest.”

Negan shrugs, picking up his fork and digging into the rest of his food. “It comes with the years,” he says. “I used to get up early too, but as I got older I just got more and more tired. It’s like the time begins to weigh you down.” He sighs and rubs at an eye as he chews on some egg. “Frankly, don’t know what you see in an old man like me.”

Carl kicks the man’s ankle lightly in reprimand. “I don’t like you talking down about yourself like that. It’s not like you.” He squints after a second, spreading some lemony smelling butter over his toast. “Unless this is you fishing for compliments.”

Negan breaths a laugh and shakes his head. “No. No, it’s not. Think I’m just still a little asleep.” He pops a fresh berry into his mouth, focusing on the feeling of the skin breaking between his teeth.

He won’t say it out loud, doesn’t want to make either of his lovers feel bad, but the nights Negan has to himself are the hardest. Especially when he’s used to having either one or both with him on the ship. He understands their need to sleep in a bed to themselves sometimes, but he can’t help that it makes him feel rejected. He knows in his heart that they don’t do it out of maliciousness, it’s not because of him. He knows that. Hell, Carl showed up in his room bright and early after all.

But it doesn’t stop his mind from racing anyway.

“Think a refreshing bath is all I need to put the perk back in my step.”

“Well good,” Carl replies before munching on his toast for a moment. Once he’s finished two bites he continues, “Now that my spine is all back to rights, I think a good bath will do me well.”

He gestures vaguely in the direction of Negan’s big bed with a soft smile. “So you can look forward to hanging off of me like a limpet tonight.”

“A limpet,” Negan repeats with a snort, smiling around his cup of hot tea as he takes a drink. “I do look forward to that. Also to the bath. Have you ever shaved someone else before?” he asks as he takes another bite, finishing off his toast.

“Not that I can think of,” the boy answers lightly. He looks up from his food with a grin. “Why? Thinking of rescinding your request?”

“No, no. Just wondering,” Negan says with a wave of his hand. “I trust you and your skills. I’ve seen how you handle a blade.”

“Well, don’t talk me up too much,” Carl jokes. “You’re just asking me to mess up on accident.”

“Don’t you dare mess up my beautiful face,” Negan says with a grin. “You’re the one that has to look at it.”

“My love, you have to look at my face every day,” the boy says lightly, grabbing his little dish of fresh fruit. “There’s no way I could mess up yours that bad. Besides, like you said, I have a steady hand.” He tosses a grape up in the air and catches it in his mouth. It bursts between his teeth deliciously. “Just remember not to get too handsy when I have a blade under your jaw.”

“No promises,” Negan says with a chuckle, tapping the side of his foot against Carl’s ankle. “If you do it when we’re stripped down, you’re gonna have to tie my hands back.” He slides his foot up Carl’s calf slowly, just tracing along it.

“You’re such a letch,” Carl sighs but doesn’t bother shaking the man off. “You managed to keep your hands to yourself the last time we were at the bathhouse, you know.”

“I think the last time I was afraid I’d lose my hand if I touched you,” Negan says with a snort, hooking his foot around Carl’s ankle and just holding on. He finishes up his meal and pushes his tray slightly away. “How far we’ve come, eh?”

Carl is for once the slower eater, picking through the very last of his meal at a more sedate pace. “Hm, I don’t know. I can’t imagine you getting very far if you’re feeling me up while I’m trying to focus.”

“I think I could get a little far,” Negan says, smirk tugging at his lips as he slides his foot up the inside of Carl’s leg. “But I’ll try to keep my hands to myself because I really do want a nice shave.”

“I’ll do my best, and you can be handsy later,” the boy says decisively. It sounds like a good deal to him, because frankly he loves Negan’s hands on him, but he refuses to fuck up.

“Agreed,” Negan says with a victorious grin of his own. He glances towards the window to check the sun and then back to Carl, letting his eyes skim over the boy with a soft hunger. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to let me get a quick little touch before we wake up Dwight?”

Carl hums softly and shifts up from his chair, walking around the table to drop his arms on Negan’s shoulders. “Just so long as you remember the door is open.”

Negan grins and drops his head against Carl’s shoulder, turning his face to kiss at Carl’s neck. Negan breathes in deep, relishing in Carl’s sleep warm scent, and reaches up to grab onto Carl’s arms, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. “Mm… Love you, pet.”

“I love you, too, my dear,” Carl says softly, squeezing Negan to him.

They stay like that for a long moment, Negan nuzzled into Carl and just enjoying his warmth and affection, until finally Negan let's go with a sigh. “Alright, let’s go wake the better half of this threesome up,” he says with a laugh, pressing one more kiss to Carl’s cheek.

“Let’s.” Carl can’t refute that in any way and he doesn’t want to. He walks in front of Negan, lifting Dwight’s tray and moving out of the way so that the captain can get the door.

Negan does a little rhythmic knock on the door before pushing it open. “Rise and shine,” he sings as he enters the room, holding the door open for Carl.

In the bed, Dwight groans softly from the mess of blankets and pillows he has himself buried in. His strawberry blonde hair is about the only thing visible as it sticks up from the sheets.

Carl laughs softly as he steps into the room, moving over to the table to settle the tray on it. “Ah, seems we might have to extract him from his den.”

“My pleasure.” Negan chuckles as he climbs onto Dwight’s bed and buries himself beneath the blankets to find the other. There’s some fumbling before Dwight’s laughter rings out, sleepy but clear.

“Negan!” he says with a gasp, throwing back the blankets to reveal Negan with his hands under Dwight’s shirt, tickling him mercilessly.

Carl sniggers, covering his mouth as he watches his lovers’ antics. He contemplates saving Dwight from Negan’s clutches for a moment but ultimately decides against it. They’ve known each other far longer than he has, so they know limits, and really he just enjoys the sound of their laughter.

Dwight tries to pull away and gets tugged back into Negan over and over again until he finally lands a hand to Negan’s face. “Oof!”

There’s some fumbling and some twisting, laughter mixed with yelps, until Dwight is on his back panting heavily with Negan hovering over him. He grins down at Dwight, hands gripping Dwight’s wrists and keeping them pinned to the bed. “Morning, love.”

Carl looks his fill, always pleased to see the two this way. “Yes, good morning, dear heart.”

Dwight huffs out a laugh and looks from Negan to Carl. “Menaces. The both of ya,” he says, a warm smile on his face taking any sting away from his words. He’s still looking at Carl when Negan leans down and starts kissing and nipping at his neck, pulling a soft keen from Dwight’s chest.

Carl points to himself, his one eye wide. “Me? I’m a menace?”

He hooks his ankle around one of the chairs and drops into it, lounging back in it with his attention on them. Raising his hands to show his complete innocence, he offers an equally innocent smile. “I’m way over here. I couldn’t possibly be.”

“Uh huh,” Dwight says with a shaking breath, his eyes closing for just a moment as Negan sucks a mark high on his neck. When he opens them again, it’s with a gasp from the sharp sting of Negan’s teeth. “I don’t see you getting this brute off of me either, lad.”

Carl drops his hands, making himself more comfortable in his seat. His smile takes on more of a teasing edge. “Little ol’ me? Move him?”

Dwight groans and wiggles on the bed, trying to shift Negan with no luck. “Menaces,” he whines. “God damn… pirates!”

Negan giggles and trails kisses up over Dwight’s cheek to the bridge of his nose. “Now, now, love. No need for harsh language.”

“Such a foul mouth,” Carl tuts playfully in agreement. A thought occurs to him that the last time he was here he had no idea if they’d even let him stay, and now he gets to witness these things for as long as possible. Warmth overtakes his chest at the thought.

Negan snickers at Carl’s input, stopping Dwight from complaining anymore by kissing him properly. He swallows down Dwight’s moan, feeling him finally give up and relax.

That’s when Negan decides to relent, pulling away to sit back on Dwight’s hips.

“Really?” Dwight groans, rubbing his face with his free hands. “Fucking… Wake me up to tease me?”

Carl snorts softly. “That’ll be my fault. I told him he could wait until after we’ve had a bath.”

Dwight groans again, the sound muffled under his hands.

Negan laughs softly as he slips off Dwight and helps him sit up. “C’mon, love. Eat your breakfast before it gets too much colder.”

“Yeah, yeah.” With a sigh, Dwight runs a hand through his hair before standing and making his way to the table. He drops a kiss to Carl’s head before sitting down in his chair and looking over his food. “You two ate already, I presume? What time is it anyway?”

“Later than I woke him up,” Carl hums, twitching a finger towards Negan. “It’s come to my attention I’ve been keeping you two from precious sleep.”

Dwight waves his hand dismissively before he digs into his food. “No, no. I just need one night on land to sleep in and then I’m good to go. Something about going from the ship to a bed that doesn’t move really just wears me out or something.”

Carl has practically proven that he can fall asleep anywhere so long as they’re safe and he has his dagger at hand, so he can’t really relate. “The beds here are very nice, in fairness, worth sleeping in a bit.”

Negan makes a noise at that, like he has something to say but decided better about it, but still couldn’t keep it all the way in. He moves behind Carl and wraps his arms loosely around him as he watches Dwight eat.

“These are the best beds I think I can remember ever being in,” Dwight says, spreading some butter on his toast.

Carl leans into Negan as much as he can with part of the chair between them. “Thinking about it, I might have to agree. The beds in Alexandria weren’t this comfortable.”

“No? Interesting.” Dwight munches contemplatively on his toast. “I thought you were quite well off, yeah?”

“Sure,” Carl shrugs, “but I was still working class, hence why my mother wanted me to marry up.”

“Ah, I see.”

“What would your mother think about where you are now?” Negan asks with a smirk, squeezing Carl gently as he rests his chin on Carl’s head. “In cahoots with pirates.”

Carl ponders that. His thoughts stray to Shane and the clear knowledge that his actions have made it far enough to warrant a wanted poster. “She’d want me hung.”

Dwight chokes on his food, coughing softly to dislodge the piece of egg stuck in his throat. “Jesus.”

“Tough woman,” Negan mumbles. “Not that I had any hopes that the answer would be different. Most people want us hung.” He chuckles softly, tilting his face down to kiss Carl’s crown. “I’m sorry you can’t take us home to meet the parents. Such a sad day this is.”

Carl leans back a bit to grin up at the man. “Oh, I don’t know. If my father doesn’t shoot you on sight I think it would be a fun time.”

Negan laughs and presses a kiss to Carl’s forehead. “Yeah? Well, then you can go first and butter him up for us, eh? Maybe we’ll get immunity as your lovers or some such, huh?” He kisses down the bridge of Carl’s nose before ending at his lips, trailing a hand lightly up the column of Carl’s throat.

Carl scoffs jokingly, “We should have fun with it at least, kidnap him for lunch, drop him one port over with a better sketch for that wanted poster.”

Negan throws his head back to laugh loudly before looking back down to kiss Carl again. “Fuck, kid, you got the best ideas. I can just imagine the look on your old man’s face as we pull the sack cloth off his head and he sees a whole ship full of pirates plus you standing there waving at him.”

Carl accepts the kiss happily, with a soft amused hum. “Lord, he might keel over right there.”

“Aw, that wouldn’t be very fun,” Negan says with a snicker and a smirk. “I’d still like to have lunch with him. Maybe ask him for his blessing or whatever it is you’re supposed to do. Think he’d accept Dwight and I as his son-in-laws?”

“I think he might trade us both for Dwight,” Carl offers up but he can’t help but let out a sharp wheeze at the idea of Negan trying to get his father’s blessing. “God, that’s a terrible idea.”

Negan giggles with manic delight, smile so big his eyes scrunch at the corners. “I love it. Let’s do it. Let’s go right now.”

“Maybe after breakfast,” Dwight says, his fruit cup cradled in his hand as he watches his lovers with an amused look on his face.

Carl pokes under Negan’s jaw. “Absolutely not. I was promised a real bath, mister.”

“Ah, right. Yes. How could I forget?” Looking down at Carl again, Negan brushes a few straggling hair strands away from his face and leans in to kiss his scarred eyebrow. “We’ll table the father kidnapping for now, but keep it on the list.”

“Sure, somewhere under bath house and me and Cook trying tea from every continent.” Carl crinkles his nose at the way Negan’s facial hair scrapes at his scar and forehead.

“Oh? How’s that going for you?” Dwight asks, nibbling at the last of his food. “I hear there’s some pretty good leaves coming over from the far East.”

The boy waves a flippant hand. “Cook has the list. He’s determined to re-find some he’s had before so I can have the whole experience.”

“Mm, sounds nice.” Dwight finishes his food, the click of his bowl on the tray making Negan look up. There’s an excitement now radiating from him that he’s sure Carl can feel.

“Done, love? Ready to head to the baths?”

“You are so impatient today, dear. Are you even ready? Surely you’re not going out like that.” He gestures towards Negan’s sleep rumpled, shirtless, state.

Carl's smile pinches away a laugh and he shares a conspiratorial look with Dwight. “Bet you he forgot.”

“I-I did not forget,” Negan says with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just had a very distracting morning is all.”

“Yes, we’ve been so distracting, sleeping and eating and breathing near you,” Carl huffs, playfully exasperated.

“Yes, see? Exactly.”

Dwight snorts and shakes his head. “Alright, well, go get dressed and get ready and we can all meet in the hall when we’re done. And don’t forget your shaving kit, dear.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Negan says, ruffling Carl’s hair before scampering away to escape out the door.

“I just have to grab my bag with my change of clothes and my soap basket,” Carl says, standing up to push a kiss across Dwight’s mouth.

“I’ll meet you guys outside actually,” Carl decides at the door, glancing back at the blonde. “I need to run my journal to the throne room for the king.”

“Alright, lad. Sounds good. We’ll wait for you in the front garden,” Dwight says with a smile, touching his lips like he’s feeling Carl’s kiss lingering there.

It doesn’t take long for Carl to leave his journal with one of Ezekiel’s guards and make his way out to the garden. Hiking his bag up on his shoulder and situating his basket on his arm, he tilts his head towards the path. “We ready?”

Dwight looks up and smiles, hooking his arm through Carl’s free one when he gets close. “Ready, love.” He looks over to where Negan is gazing into one of the ponds surrounded by flowers. “Negan, dear. Carl is here. C’mon.”

“Coming!” Negan shifts his bag on his shoulder before joining his lovers in making their way out of the gate.

“I picked us out some new soap cubes to try,” Carl says as they walk. “Cook has been helping me maximize the stuff from the kitchen so it doesn’t go to waste, and I think I’ve managed to get the scents without making the soaps sticky.”

“Ooh, sounds wonderful. What did you bring for us then?” Dwight asks, trying to peek into the basket as if he could see anything. “Or is it a surprise?”

“I figured I would let you pick,” the boy says, tapping his bag rather than his basket which is all for sale stuff. “I have a peach one, a cinnamon one, and one made of the fancy black tea leaves we got in Italy.”

“I call the tea one,” Negan says quickly, eyebrows going up. “That one sounds delicious.”

“They’re for cleaning, not eating,” Dwight says with a laugh.

“You know what I mean.”

Carl rolls his eye fondly before glancing up at Dwight. “What do you say, dear heart, cinnamon or peach?”

“I’ll take peach,” Dwight says, giving Carl’s arm a little squeeze. “Thank you, lad. I do hope the bath wants to buy your wares. Your soaps are so lovely.”

Carl shrugs. “If no one wants to buy them I can take them back to the ship and cube them for crew usage.”

“Fair enough.”

Moving into the town is a wash of noise and bustling people, jarring from the quiet near the castle. It’s nice though, seeing people and animals going about their day.

They pass a group of girls in animals masks, and Negan perks up. “Should we go to the theatre again while we’re here? I bet it’s a different story.”

“If you’d like,” Carl says, fingers catching on a pocket watch chain as he passes and letting the piece fall into his soap basket out of sight for the moment. “I did say I would spend some time with the king though,” he reminds the men.

“Of course. Yeah. I didn’t mean right now or anything,” Negan says with a wave of his hand. “Just, if we find we have some free time.”

The bathhouse house appears in the distance, the familiar stream rising from the chimneys. There’s two men in fox masks out front trying to draw people in with simple acts of juggling that have gained the interest of a few people.

Carl eyes the foxes with caution as he continues their conversation. “I would join you for another production if you wanted, though I still don’t think they’re my thing.”

“Aw, you didn’t enjoy the last one?” Negan asks, leading them up the steps to the porch that wraps around the building. He watches the jugglers’ balls come up to the height of the rail and has to stop himself from grabbing one out of the air, turning physically away and towards the door. Opening it, he waves Carl and Dwight through.

“My fondness for it mostly stems from your presence and the reminder that it’s how I met Laura,” Carl comments, dipping his head in thanks as they pass by Negan.

He hums with a coming thought. “Do you think she’ll visit her old hunting grounds? Take Arat for a production?”

“Perhaps. We did meet them both here, so I’m sure they’re enjoying their time back,” Dwight says with a smile.

Negan shuts the door behind them and ushers them towards the front desk where a fox girl is waiting. “Let’s order our room first, and then you can see if she wants to buy your wares, yeah?” he says to Carl.

Carl waves him forward. “By all means, I’m not exactly a salesman.” He slides the pocket watch up his sleeve behind Negan’s back, leaving the basket only full of soap.

“Aye, but you know what’s in them, so you’ve gotta do a little talking,” Negan says with a laugh, stepping up to the desk.

“‘Ello! Room for three?” the girl asks, looking over the trio.

“Yes, please, lass. One of the back rooms if you would.” Negan grins and fishes out a few coins from his purse, handing them over to the woman. “Under the name Negan Morgan, if you will.”

“Yes’sir. Thank you, sir.” She takes his coins and scratches his name into a log book before turning to pluck a key off the wall of hooks behind her. “Here you are, sir. Enjoy.”

“Thank you, lass. One more thing…” Negan gestures for Carl to come up. “My friend here has some soaps he’s made and is wanting to sell if you would be interested.“

Carl joins the man at the counter, lifting the basket carefully. “Good morning, madam.”

He presses a hand over the soaps in their almost neat stacks within the basket, moving it to indicate the neatly written labels as he speaks. “I have sixteen bars with me, four different scents. Lavender, chamomile, coffee, and cedar.”

“Oo!” The fox girl peers into the basket with curiosity, plucking up one of the bars to look it over. She lifts her mask slightly to give it a sniff. “That is delightful, and these look very well crafted. How much were you wanting to sell them for?”

“They’re made to where they can be cut into eight equal sized cubes for individual use,” Carl explains. “So one bar would be about a piece of eight.”

He could honestly be haggled down to a half piece for each bar but he knows that he shouldn’t come out and say that. He’s haggled too many others and put his own time into making these. He knows the worth of the ingredients and he knows the worth of the product.

“And you said you have sixteen bars, yes?” the girl confirms, placing back the one she’d taken before picking up her log book and scribbling something down. “So that’s sixteen pieces of eight in total, yes? And sixteen cut into eight each…” She mumbles as she does the math and works out what she could then charge customers for them and if it would all be worth it.

She seems to think so as she sets the books down and gives Carl a nod and a toothy smile from under her fox nose. “I’ll take them all. I think my customers will really enjoy these and see the value in them.” She reaches for her money box and counts out the sixteen for Carl, holding them out for him. “Do you live nearby? Could I call on you when I run out?”

“Unfortunately I don’t, but to my knowledge we stop here every few months if at all possible,” Carl glances over to Negan for confirmation as he slips the money into one of the several coin purses on his person.

Negan gives a smile and nod, and the girl claps her hands softly in glee.

“I’ll bring a similar amount next time we come through and we can discuss if you might need more and how quickly they go, if that sounds like a fair bargain,” he tells the woman.

“Sounds fair to me. I’ll keep records so I can inform you when you come back,” the girl says, holding out her hand to Carl. “I’m Darren, by the way.”

“Carl,” the boy says, taking her hand gently and miming a polite kiss above her knuckles before letting go. “Thank you for your business, madam.”

“Thank you!” Darren says with a soft giggle. “I’ll store these somewhere safe for now and have your basket empty by time you’re done in the bath so I can give it back to you, yeah?”

“Sounds great,” Carl says, leaning away from the counter to hook his arm through Negan’s. “I think that went rather well.”

“Very!” Negan agrees, patting Carl’s hand and then leading the way down the hall to their room.

“You’ve got yourself a repeat customer already, I bet,” Dwight says, patting Carl’s head. “No way she won’t want more by time we come here next.”

“She’ll probably need more by tomorrow!” Negan laughs as he unlocks the door and ushers the other two in, following through last and locking the door behind them. Their room is the same as it was last time they were there, just mirrored as it’s on the opposite side of the building. The warm steam in the air already feels so good, and they haven’t even gotten in yet.

“If I had space to make my own lye or grow my own soy I probably wouldn’t charge her so much,” Carl admits as they move over to the shelves to begin divesting themselves of their clothes and accoutrements.

“I had prepared myself to be haggled down actually,” he tacks on as he slides his bag into the shelf.

“They make good money here. I think you coulda charged more,” Negan says with a chuckle, tucking away his things next to Dwight. He toes off his boots and slides them into a bottom space before working off his pants. “You made back what I paid for the room about threefold. Honestly, if I’d had let you go first, I probably wouldn’t have even had to pay.”

“Here then,” Carl hums, passing over the coin purse that he filled with the bathhouse attendant’s coins. “It’s not like I needed to charge more.”

He proves his point by emptying his pockets of several accessories and four more coin purses so that he can begin pulling off his coat, belts, and clothes. “It’s certainly enough to buy more materials and that’s all I really care about.”

Dwight’s eyebrows go up as Negan laughs and hands back Carl’s coins. “No, no. I don’t need them, I was just making a point. It’s your money. You earned it in an honest way.” He snickers as he goes back to removing the last of his clothes and then digging his shaving kit out of his bag.

“As opposed to the dishonest way,” Carl mumbles, catching the pocket watch he forgot he squirreled away when he pulls his shirt off.

“I always forget how light your fingers are, lad,” Dwight says, tugging his shirt off and folding it neatly. “I know you just show up with more stuff, but to see the pile is something else.”

“I don’t really think it’s my light fingers, I just think people are too trusting for a pirate island,” he comments, toeing out of his boots so he can strip the last bits of his clothes off.

“I don’t know. With your skills I think any place would be easy for you,” Dwight says with a shrug, letting his eyes wander over both Carl and Negan’s bodies for just a moment before looking away with a flush. He’s seen it all countless times, but he just can’t help love the view of his lovers.

“Honestly. What’s been the hardest thing for you to steal that you can remember?” Negan asks.

Carl tries to think about that for a second as he digs their soap cubes out of his bag. He holds the peach out for Dwight and then the tea out for Negan.

“I don’t know if I can recall anything that was terribly hard for me to steal,” he says, rolling the cinnamon cube around in his hand. “I tend to only really go after easy things.”

“Well, I’d say keep it that way. Don’t want you getting caught up in something because you tried to swipe the royal jewels,” Dwight says with a laugh, smelling his soap as he turns and leads the way to the washing area.

Negan smells his as well, sighing softly. “This is wonderful,” he says to Carl, indicating the cube. He sets his shaving kit down on the little counter in the wash area before heading to the flowing water trough. “Let’s get clean, and then I’ll have you shave me, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Carl agrees readily, following after the two men. A good bath is a precious commodity even if you haven’t spent months at sea.

Dwight is the first to tip a bucket of clean water over his head, groaning softly at the warmth of it. He takes his soap cube and starts lathering himself up, working some of it into his hair and finger combing the strands out. “Did you bring that oil again? The one for your hair?”

“At this point you would be hard pressed to find me without a vial or two of coconut oil,” Carl comments, half waiting for one of Negan’s sleazy comments as he drenches his hair.

“Always prepared for some fun, ey? Got a better place to put that than your hair,” Negan says with a smirk as if on cue, though he’s quickly sent sputtering by Dwight splashing him with water.

“Such a letch,” Carl breathes, half exasperated and half amused as he lathers soap into his hair.

“You love it. The both of ya.” Negan grins, scrubbing his soap into his hair.

“Suppose we do,” Dwight says with an affectionate smile. He rinses himself off before running the soap over his skin again, wanting to make sure he’s very clean now that he has the chance. “Think you could wash my back for me without getting handsy?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Negan asks, even though he’s already moving over to do as Dwight asked, switching soaps with him so he can have the peach used on his back.

Carl laughs softly at the two but continues to focus on his own grooming. He plans to be so clean he might just squeak when he walks out of here. It’s not long before he’s rinsing down and combing his fingers through his hair to wring it out.

“Is there a special place to shave so the hairs don’t get in the bath?” he questions, plucking a towel up to begin drying off.

“I think here is fine, right? I could sit down closer to the drain, perhaps?” Negan gestures to the drain in the middle of the floor that all their water has been flowing into.

“There’s a screen we can fold out to block off the bath from this area if you think that might help something,” Dwight suggests, pointing to the folded screen leaning against the wall.

Carl glances at the screen as he wraps his towel firmly around his hips and then shakes his head. “I don’t know what that would do. I’ll use one of the buckets to rinse the razor.”

He steps away from them towards the shelves again. “Just give me a moment to run a comb and oil through my hair.”

“Sure, pet,” Negan says, grabbing a towel to wrap around himself. Last thing he wants is stray beard hairs landing where he doesn’t need them. As Dwight passes by him, rinsed and ready to soak in the bath, Negan can’t help but reach out and get a handful of his bare ass. Dwight yelps and turns to smack him on the shoulder.

“Brute!”

“It was right there. You expect me to not?” Negan grins big and raises his eyebrows.

Dwight just rolls his eyes. “I suppose it is in your nature after all. I’m going to soak. Join me once you’re done.”

“You know we will, my dear.” Carl moves back to the cleaning area, rolling his eye at Negan’s antics. He kicks the man lightly in the ankle as he starts to work coconut oil into his hair. “Prepare your shaving foam, I’ve never done it.”

“Alright, alright. It’s easy though. Just watch.” Heading over to the little counter where he’d left his kit, Negan gets a few things out and lays them down in a line. “I presharpened the blade, so that won’t need to be done,” he says as he leaves the leather strap in the kit. He takes his small brush to the running water and dunks the bristles in to get them soaked through before heading back and swirling them over the hard bar of shaving soap he has set inside a small bowl. Once he’s worked up quite a lather he places the brush into another small but empty bowl, tilting any extra foam from the soap bowl on to it. “Shouldn’t need more than that, but if you do, you can make it.”

“You want to be smooth or scruffy?” Carl asks as he twists his hair into a loose tail to stay out of his face and lays his comb and oil among the collection on the counter.

He glances around, moving to grab one of the little stools to bring it over to the counter. Plopping it down on the ground, he points. “Here, sit.”

“Best to make me smooth,” Negan says as he sits where Carl says to. He reaches out, fingers gliding gently over the skin at Carl’s hip. “It’ll just start growing back by morning anyway.”

“Alright.” The boy grabs a bucket and fills it, bringing it over to use for rinsing.

Carl reaches out, tipping Negan’s head back by the chin to start lathering the foam over his face. “Try not to be too much of an ass while I do this.”

“I’ll be good,” Negan says with a soft shine in his eyes, closing his mouth so Carl can drag the brush over it. He reaches out to rest his hands on Carl’s hips, but that’s all he does, holding on just to keep steady. Negan really does want Carl to be able to do a good job with this, so he tries to stay as still as he can.

“Good, I’ll be gentle,” Carl hums, setting the brush aside to pick up the razor. His hands are unused to a hinged blade so he bends the handle backwards and holds it more firmly from the base.

He tests the give of the blade and its sharpness against his own arm first, not wanting to knick the man accidentally. More settled in his knowledge of the razor, he leans close to begin with his first swipe, neatly up the edge of Negan’s jaw.

Negan hums softly and lets his eyes fall half closed, watching the concentration on Carl’s face with warm affection. To think that not so long ago Carl would have used this as a chance to cut Negan’s throat is amazing to him.

Carl goes slowly and carefully, the rhythmic scrape and tap of the razor filling the room over the sound of running water. Rather than tilt Negan’s head again, he steps around him to the other side when he finishes the first half.

“Doing great, pet,” Negan mumbles when he knows Carl has the razor away from his face. His eyes are fully closed now as he relaxes, and he has to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep.

Carl shivers, glaring heatlessly at the man’s relaxed face. He tilts the blade and begins on the other side of Negan’s jaw. “You would’ve asked Dwight if you didn’t think I’d do great.”

“Dwight’s shit with a razor,” Negan says with a snort, his mouth twitching into a smile for just a moment.

“It’s true,” Dwight says, arms crossed on the edge of the bath, watching the other two. “I can do myself okay, but I can not do other people.”

“Unsteady hands?” Carl asks with interest, angling his head so he can more easily see the underside of Negan’s jaw. It’s the last part he has to do before he can wipe the man down to see if he’s missed anything.

“Yeah. Makes me nervous,” Dwight says. “Also, on myself I can feel the angle and the pressure, but I lose that on someone else. I just can’t get a feel for it.”

Carl hums, reaching out to rinse the razor a final time before holding it up to look over the blade. “Yes, I can see how it would be worrisome. It would be a fine tool to skin someone with.”

“Can we not talk about skinning when you still have the knife very close to my face?” Negan says, cracking an eye open to look at Carl.

“Hm.” Carl leans down to peck the man on the mouth. “Don’t be a coward, love. You’re done.”

“Oh, I am? How do I look? Ten years younger? Smooth as a baby’s ass?” Negan grins, reaching up to feel his shaven face. “Mm, it feels good. Feels nice not having it all on there. Thank you, pet.”

“As handsome as the day I tried to kill you,” Carl answers breezily, trading the razor for his coconut oil. “You’re welcome, now let me rub this into your face.”

Negan snorts and nods, dropping his hand and offering his face to Carl again. “This shit’s good for all over, huh?”

“Haven’t found anything it’s bad for yet,” the boy says lightly, massaging the oil into Negan’s newly smooth face.

Negan hums and it sounds like the satisfied purr of a cat, reaching out to hold onto Carl’s waist while he works the oil in. His fingers tap softly on Carl’s soft, clean skin.

Carl hums softly, digging his thumbs lightly into the hinges of Negan’s jaw. “C’mon, I want to soak before our time on the room runs out.”

“Yessir,” Negan slurs happily. He stands and presses a kiss to Carl’s lips before leading the way to the bath. Dropping his towel, Negan climbs into the warm water and settles in next to Dwight with a satisfied sigh. “Oh, that’s good.”

Dwight smiles, leaning against Negan and reaching up to feel his face. “You did a good job, lad. Nice work.”

A pleased groan escapes Carl as he slides into the bath on Negan’s other side. He slips down until his head and shoulders are the only thing above water. “Thank you. I pride myself on my blade work you know.”

“Aye. Nice to see it plays over into barbering as well.” Dwight closes his eyes as he rests his head against Negan’s shoulder. “Mm. This is nice.”

“Aye,” Negan agrees, slipping one arm around Dwight and the other around Carl, bringing them both closer to him. “I like having you two like this.”

“Pliant and pleasant?” Carl asks, melting into the man’s side. It’s his personal opinion that a good night of sleep and a long bath could cure any ailment. Terrible ideology for a ships medic, he’s sure.

“Mhm.” Negan smiles, pressing kisses to both of his lover’s temples. “Warm and close and happy.” He sighs again, leaning his head back against the edge of the tub and closing his eyes.

Dwight smiles and kisses Negan’s jaw before settling again.

Carl loses track of time, allowing himself to relax into his lovers. He figures sooner or later someone will either knock to give them a time warning or Negan will usher them out of the tub.

As it is, Negan falls into a light sleep, his soft snores mixing with the sound of flowing water, and it’s Dwight who finally suggests that they should get out. “We don’t want to become soup after all.”

Once they’re dressed and have all their things, they collect Carl’s basket from the front and say good bye to Darren who informs them that she’s already sold a cube of Carl’s soap. Negan suggests that they stop for lunch, and they end up in a small pub on the way back to the castle chomping down on hearty food and drinking house made beer.

“You know,” Carl says conversationally as he digs into his fried pie, “before meeting you I had only eaten somewhere that wasn’t a house or a navy vessel two times in my whole life.” He has a bite of food before he continues. “Pubs and such were a strange concept to me when I had never left Alexandria.”

“You had pubs there though,” Negan says, eyebrows drawing in. “That’s where we usually went when we visited.”

“I think, knowing his family, it’s safe to assume his mother wouldn’t have approved of them going to a pub,” Dwight says, picking at a wing of chicken to peel the meat off the bones.

Carl tilts his head towards Dwight pointedly. “There’s two pubs in Alexandria, and one of them doesn’t serve food other than bread from Widow Peletier’s bakery because she sells them the day olds for cheap.”

“Aye, yeah. Not exactly the best dining experience,” Negan says, taking a drink from his flagon before digging back into his food. He has a plate of mixed grilled vegetables and a chunk of red meat he’s been slicing and dipping into a savory sauce. “So, what? You just ate at home? Your mom cook?”

Carl grimaces. His mother was many things but she did not a chef make. “We had a nursemaid to help with cooking and watching my sister and such. I spent much more time in the kitchen than my mother ever did.”

“Ah, I see. Not a very maternal woman, was she?” Negan snorts softly. “What about your sister? Did she dote on her at all?”

“Oh, she loved us both, there’s no question about that,” Carl says with a wave of his hand. He knows he grew a certain disdain for her after catching her with Shane, but before that… before that he adored her. “A long time ago I would have said that she would kill for me, for both of us, back before things got harder.”

Negan gives Carl a soft look and Dwight reaches out to touch his shoulder gently. “I’m sure she still would, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.”

“For my sister perhaps,” the boy comments, shifting his fork to dig more veggies out of his fried pie, “but for crimes of piracy and killing her lover, I’m sure she’ll be first in line to see me led up the gallows.”

Negan chokes softly on his bite. “Lover?” he coughs out, eyebrows cinching together. “But you’ve only killed… Holy shit.” Negan lets out a low whistle as Dwight’s eyebrows raise up in shock.

Carl blinks in surprise, swallowing his bite of food. “Did… did I not tell you that part?”

“I… I don’t think so? Maybe? I don’t remember. We’ve done a lot of things since we’ve last seen Admiral Walsh,” Negan says with an eye roll. “But, what the hell? Does your dad know?”

“I’m pretty unclear on it,” Carl admits. Part of him had thought his father must have known, the other part never knew what to think. “It matters little though. Shane is dead now after all.”

“Suppose so.”

They fall into a silence while they all pick at their food, though Dwight does reach out to give Carl another little touch of sympathy. He’s not sure how much Carl needs it, but he likes to offer it anyway.

“Should we get something for dessert?” Negan asks almost immediately after he’s finished his food. “I think I saw some sweet pastries up there.”

“If you want something sweet, I’m sure I could sit around and watch you enjoy yourself,” Carl says, smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he leans back in his chair with the last half of his ale.

Dwight chuckles softly and leans his elbows on the table. “If you get something, I’ll have a little bite, love.”

Licking his teeth in a distinctly predator fashion, Negan looks between the two and grins. “Yeah, okay. Be right back.” He stands and heads to the counter.

Watching him go, Dwight takes a drink of his beer and hums. “You figure out how to make those sweet pies on the ship yet?”

“Cook has already taken some of my money to get preserves and jarred jams for them,” Carl conspires. “He won’t let me pay for the baking pan contraption he wants though.”

“Good. Good.” Dwight nods and then smiles over the rim of his cup at a thought that comes to him. “You know, if, when, you make those for him, he’s not gonna let you leave his bed for a whole day or more.”

“I can live with that if there aren’t pressing concerns or medical maladies,” Carl decides thoughtfully.

Dwight chuckles softly, reaching out to run his fingers through the ends of Carl’s hair. It’s so soft after the bath. “Good. As long as you’re prepared.”

“I’m aware it’s a possibility,” Carl answers with a grin, “and amendable, so long as it’s him eating it. I’m not a fan of a lot of sugar.”

“Aye, and Negan’s sweet tooth knows no bounds.” Dwight wraps a little lock of Carl’s hair around his finger and tugs gently. “Probably why he’s so hooked on the two of us, eh?”

“You maybe,” the boy says, letting his head follow the direction of the tug.

“Aw, pish posh. You’re sweet… When you want to be.” Dwight smiles, tugging Carl closer until he can lean over and press a kiss to Carl’s cheek. “Like going out of your way to make pies just because you know Negan will like it. That’s very sweet of you, lad.”

“Hm.” Carl sips his drink. “How do you know it’s not entirely self-serving?”

“Because you just admitted to not liking sweets, and all you’d have to do is breathe near Negan to get him to fuck you.”

“You are thinking so small, dear heart,” Carl says, but he can feel the slight ache in the scarred side of his face from how hard he’s smiling. “Who else is happy if Negan is happy?”

“Ah, I see. You’re doing it for the good of the whole crew, eh?” Dwight laughs softly, brushing the ends of Carl’s hair against Carl’s jaw. “Well, you can say that if you wish, but I think we all know what a lie that is.”

“Call it a lie if you like, my heart, but in the end I’m not going to just make pies with Cook for one person,” he points out, twitching away from the tickle of his hair.

“Sure, lad. Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” Dwight tugs him in for one more kiss and then leans back just as Negan reappears. He’s got a little plate with a pastry on it that is smothered in white icing.

“Look at this!” he says with a manic gleam in his eyes as he sets down the treat and takes his seat. “They call it a sweet roll. Doesn’t it look delightful? It’s still warm from the oven.”

“Looks delicious, dear,” Dwight says, picking up his fork and reaching over to pluck away a small bit from the bottom at the same time that Negan takes a large piece from the top. Dwight hums at the rich sugar that coats his tongue from his little slice while Negan practically moans in his seat, drawing the eyes of a few patrons.

“Fuck, that’s good!”

Carl can’t say his eyes aren’t absolutely glued to Negan’s mouth. He can tell by the strong smell of sugar that the pastry would likely make him nauseous, but it certainly doesn’t subtract from the idea that he should lick it off his lover’s teeth.

“Tell me what it tastes like, love,” Carl directs, sipping from his ale as he flicks his gaze up to meet the man’s eyes.

“Mm, it tastes like…” Negan licks his lips slowly, watching the way Carl’s eyes follow the movement. “The pastry part is a sweet bread with a hint of spices. Something warm, like cinnamon or allspice.” He swipes a bit of the icing from the plate onto his finger and makes a show of licking his finger into his mouth and sucking it clean, all while keeping his eyes on Carl. “The icing is sweet. Vanilla.”

Carl hums, mouth suddenly dry. Draining the rest of his ale, he settles it next to his empty tray. “Definitely sounds more your thing then mine, love. I’m glad you find delight in it.”

Negan snickers and takes another bite, smiling all the while. “Sure, pet. If you want a bite, you just let me know.”

“Thank you for the offer, my love, but I think my teeth might fall out if I have a bite of that,” the boy jokes, smiling fondly at the man.

“Uh huh. Well. I’ll let you get a bite of something better later, eh?” Negan sends a wink over to Carl, licking his fork clean with his whole tongue.

“Love, please. We’re in public,” Dwight says, kicking Negan gently under the table.

“Oh, you know he doesn’t care,” Carl says, half exasperated though his smile doesn’t dim at all. “Let’s just agree that he means dinner with the king since I certainly am not the biter of us.”

“Can’t win today,” Negan says with a dramatic sigh, accepting a shoulder pat from Dwight.

“Eat your treat, hun. I’d like to walk around a bit before we go back, and I’d like it to not be nighttime when we do.”

“It’s barely past noon.”

“Yeah, and I know the way you savor your sweets. Come on now.”

Carl leans back in his seat, tilting it a bit and crossing his ankles. “Poor thing. Very mistreated. We’ve spent time with him, groomed him, and fed him, and yet…” He tosses Dwight a playful look.

Dwight laughs softly, pushing his empty plate away so he can cross his arms on the table top. “And yet.”

Negan huffs around another bite. “I’m eating, I’m eating! I don’t know what y’all want from me, I swear.”

“Some table manners,” Carl quips. “But other than that, you’ve given me all I could ask for, love.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Negan huffs again, but his fresh shaven cheeks go a bit pink as he smiles around his next bite.

They leave soon after and walk the town a bit like Dwight wants, watching street performers and gawking at strange animals and even stranger people that they pass.

“I think the problem with taking me somewhere like this,” Carl comments, twisting a ring through each of his fingers and rolling it across the backs of his knuckles before holding it out to Negan, “is that it would be very easy for me to get into trouble.”

Taking the ring with a smile, Negan wraps his arm around Carl’s waist and tugs him in close as they walk. “Maybe we like seeing you be a little troublemaker,” he says, slipping the ring onto his finger and admiring it in the light. He leans in close to murmur in Carl’s ear. “Would you prefer we bind your hands when we go out? Take away the temptation?”

Carl goes a little stiff. As much as he likes Negan and Dwight’s hands on him, and he likes their weight over him, the idea of being tied up or bound makes him feel a little ill for some reason. “No, thank you. I’ll stick with the temptation.”

Noticing the tension running through Carl, Negan presses a kiss to his temple and gives his waist a little squeeze. “That’s just fine, my lovely pet. I’d rather you be free myself.”

“Wandering hands and all?” Carl hums almost rhetorically, leaning into the touch.

“Wandering hands and all.” Negan grins, his own hand wandering a little lower on Carl’s hip.

Carl doesn’t bother pushing him off, just changes the pace of his gait to match Negan’s longer strides better. “How long do you think we’ll stay?”

“Probably not much longer. We’ll get you back to have time with Zeke before dinner. Don’t worry.”

“I meant more in general, not in the market,” Carl says with a light snort.

“Ah, well, I gave the crew a two week time frame, but we can always extend it if you’d like. We are once again without a heading, our little adventure over, so we’d just head out to another port and see what we find along the way.”

A few steps ahead, Dwight stops and points towards a little caravan selling books. “Oh! Can we?” he asks, looking back at Negan and Carl.

Attention successively drawn, Carl gives a fond smile. “Of course, my heart, as many as you like.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that. You’ll have to go collect a lot more coin purses,” Negan says with a snort, following Dwight to the caravan where a very plump woman sits in a chair minding her wares.

“I’ve collected a few since the bathhouse, it’ll be fine,” Carl says, stopping a few steps away to wait on Dwight while he makes some selections.

Dwight picks a few fiction stories out, showing them to Negan and Carl to get their opinions, before going back and sifting through some poetry. He’s got six books in his hands when he goes to Carl again. “They have a book on herbs,” he says, handing it to Carl. “Would this be useful for you?”

Carl takes the book, flipping through it. The sketches are extremely detailed but the wording is also extremely small. “It would be if I could read it.”

“Hm.” Dwight frowns. “I could recopy the words for you? Write them bigger? They have a few others too. Come see.” Dwight tugs on Carl’s sleeve, pulling him towards one side of the caravan.

Carl steps forward, mostly to humor the man. “Seems like a lot of work for you. It’s not like I even enjoy reading.”

“It’s not work. Not when it’s for you, love,” Dwight says with a warm smile. He keeps the herb book in his stack and points to a few others for Carl to peruse.

He flips through a couple of the books, but the drawings aren’t anywhere as good as the first or the herbs and plants are mostly things he already knows. He settles a hand on Dwight’s lower back after a moment to draw his attention and says, “I think the one will be enough for me. Is that all you want?”

“Well, want and need are two different numbers, but I think this will be good for now,” Dwight says with a bright grin, looking over the books in his arms.

It seems Negan has been chatting up the bookseller since his partners left him, so when Carl and Dwight arrive to pay she’s thoroughly buttered up and gives Dwight another book for free.

“I still say you should have gotten as many as you wanted,” Carl comments as they walk away. He shifts his bag forward, holding it open. “Would you like me to carry those for you, dear heart?”

“Are you sure? They’re kind of heavy all together,” Dwight says with a frown. “How about half?” He slips four books into Carl’s bag, keeping hold of his others. “Thank you, lad.”

Carl rolls his eye, exasperated with the silly worry but not commenting further. “Of course, my heart.”

Negan loops his arms around the both of them as he comes up in between them. “We heading back now?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Dwight says with a nod, leaning into Negan’s hold. “I am thoroughly ready for a post bath, post shopping, nap.”

“Mm, I’ll take you up on that.” Negan bounces his eyebrows at Dwight before looking to Carl. “And you have a date with Zeke, yeah?”

“Though a nap sounds wonderful,” Carl says somewhat regretfully, “I did promise to spend some time discussing the healing process of my eye.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a reschedule if you’re tired, hun,” Dwight says. “Or we could always go to bed earlier tonight. We did get a bit caught up in talking at dinner last.”

The boy waves off any concern. “I’m not exhausted or anything, just sounds nice. I’m sure in two weeks I’ll get more than one chance to curl up with the two of you for a nap.”

“You will if I have any say in it,” Negan says, tugging Carl closer. “We can spend a whole day in bed if you want.” His smile goes hungry as he looks between the two.

Carl hums. “Well if there’s any time I would agree it’s when we don’t have to run a ship.”

“You’re a bad influence on him,” Dwight says without any heat to his words, poking Negan in the chest.

Negan shrugs. “Guilty as charged. Can’t say you hate it.”

Carl doesn’t bother arguing with either of them, happy to listen to them bicker as they continue up the path to Ezekiel’s castle.

Chapter 42

Summary:

Carl and Ezekiel talk science.

Notes:

R: Creeping ever closer to the end! Next Wednesday is the final chapter folks!

 

“Ah, good to see you, dear boy! Come in, come in!” Ezekiel waves at Carl in the doorway, removing his glasses and setting them down on his desk where he sits. He closes the book he was reading and turns to face Carl and give him his full attention. “Have a nice day out on the town?”

“Good bath, good food, good company,” Carl reports with a grin. “Couldn’t ask for much more than that.”

“Wonderful! Where are your companions now? Enjoying some downtime while they can?” Ezekiel asks, smiling knowingly.

“Having a nap, to my knowledge,” Carl answers, moving further into the room to scope out somewhere to sit.

Ezekiel is quick to gesture to a chair near him for Carl to sit. “I see. I see. Worn out from all that bathing, eh?” He chuckles softly and brushes away his dreads from his shoulder. “I shan’t keep you long if you wish to join them. You seem… closer now than when you’d previously visited.”

“Ah,” Carl voices as he slides into the seat. It’s not that he didn’t think the man would notice, it’s more that it all feels so natural that he’d forgotten anything changed. “I’m sure it’s not much of a surprise, all things considered.”

“Considering I was helping cure Negan of a knife wound that you put there, it’s a little bit of a surprise!” Ezekiel laughs, loud and clear. “But I am glad things seem to be going well. You look happy, my friend.”

“I highly doubt I’m the first person who’s tried to kill him that he’s made friends or more of,” the boy says lightly, lips quirked into a playful grin. “I am happy though, so I guess that stabbing changed my life for the better.”

“Well done, then. The way to a man’s heart is with a sharp blade, I suppose.” Ezekiel laughs again, before scooting his chair closer to Carl. “Now, shall we start? Would you like to discuss your notes or let me examine your eye? Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Ah, you can examine it if you like, but I’ll warn that it’s very sensitive,” Carl tells the man, reaching up to begin the process of pulling the sapphire out of his socket. “Did you have any specific questions?”

“Your notes were very thorough. I more just wanted to see it for myself,” Ezekiel says, scooting even closer so that he’s knee to knee with Carl. He reaches out and takes Carl’s face in his hands, carefully turning his scarred side towards him. He’s gentle and tries not to touch the socket or the scar as he gazes inside and takes mental notes. “You say it’s sensitive? How so? Painful?”

“Not so,” Carl comments, attempting to keep his voice even. “Well, not specifically. I get headaches and making some expressions will make shooting pain go through parts of my face. The socket itself however is mostly just sensitive.”

“Interesting. I assume you found this out while applying ointment to the area, yes? Do you still put anything on it these days?” Ezekiel picks up a small lantern that’s resting on his desk, bringing it closer to Carl’s face to try and peer deeper inside the socket.

“I clean it pretty carefully. Clean water, mint oil once or twice a week, which can be uncomfortable but keeps it from being infected,” Carl informs him. “The socket wasn’t specifically damaged and it’s been a few months since the injury occurred.”

“Of course, of course.” Ezekiel nods, leaning back and setting his light down. “It looks very good for all your efforts. Don’t think I could have done it better myself.” He takes Carl’s chin gently between his finger and thumb, turning Carl’s head to look straight ahead at him. He smiles, studying Carl’s face with a hint of sadness in his expression. “I’m sorry this has happened to you, my friend.”

“Oh, don’t look so sad,” Carl huffs, easy half-smile creasing his face. “It was well worth it, and it’s not as if it’s rendered me incapable.”

“That as it may be, it’s still okay to be saddened by it,” Ezekiel says leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Carl’s forehead before letting him go. “Do you have any questions for me on anything?”

“Oh, yes actually,” Carl replies, reaching for his journal on the desk and flipping it open. “I wanted your opinion on this. One of the men we lost got his skin split open so bad we couldn’t stitch it to save him from the blood loss. I was thinking you might be able to help me come up with a paste or something that might help with wounds of that magnitude.”

He taps the journal entry and the sketch he’d asked Negan to do next to it. “I doubt it would always be an option, but I hope we can come up with something.”

Ezekiel hums as he looks over the diagram, wracking his brain for any solution he can think of. “I wonder…” Standing quickly, Ezekiel motions for Carl to follow. “Come with me into my laboratory. I may have a few things we can test out.”

 

~

 

Carl grumbles softly as he wakes, turning over to bury his face in Dwight’s shoulder away from the early morning light coming through the window.

Dwight shifts and sighs, tucking his nose into Carl’s hair and inhaling deep. Carl is sleep warm and still smells like coconut oil. It makes Dwight smile and turn to curl in a little tighter to him.

“Hi,” Carl mumbles into the man’s shoulder, uncertain on if he wants to bother getting up or just attempt Negan’s suggestion of staying in bed all day.

“Mornin’,” Dwight murmurs back. He can hear Negan snoring softly on the other side of Carl, his arm flung over Carl’s hips. Dwight reaches down to take Negan’s hand, running his thumb over Negan’s knuckles gently. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” the boy hums, pressing a kiss against Dwight’s neck where he can reach. “Could sleep more.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Dwight says with a soft shiver from the kiss. “I’ll go back to sleep if you do.”

Curling an arm around Dwight’s waist, Carl presses his body up against his lover’s side. “Like this.”

“Like this is fine, my dear,” Dwight whispers, pressing a kiss to Carl’s head. He closes his eyes and sighs again, soaking in the feel of being close to his lovers in a comfortable bed on a beautiful morning that they have the luxury of sleeping through.

Carl snoozes for a bit longer in that half-awake and half-asleep place where he can bask in the sunshine and the presence of his lovers around him, but it doesn’t last forever. The problem with staying in bed all day rears its head when Carl stops being able to drift off… It's terribly boring. He shifts a little restlessly between the two men.

It’s Negan’s turn to stir from Carl’s movements, encircling his arm around Carl’s waist and tugging him close. Negan nuzzles his face into Carl’s hair and slots the lines of their bodies flush together, Negan’s front to Carl’s back.

Carl huffs a soft grumble but melts back into the man’s hold nonetheless. The nightshirt he went to bed in is thin enough that he can feel Negan’s heat immediately. “‘S late.”

“Mm… ‘s it?” Negan mumbles back. He tries to shift impossibly closer, slotting one leg through Carl’s. “Dwight awake?”

“Was earlier.” The boy reaches out, hand dropping on Dwight’s shoulder as he squeezes Negan’s thigh between his.

Humming low, Negan slips his hand under Carl’s shirt and presses it to his stomach, feeling the soft, warm skin there. He rocks his hips gently, grinding his thigh up against Carl. “Let him sleep if he wants it…”

Carl moans softly, letting his hand fall off Dwight’s shoulder. “Seems a bit rude, no?”

“It’s alright,” Negan says, dropping his head down to kiss along the shell of Carl’s ear as he pushes his hand higher up on Carl’s body. “You make enough noise, and he’ll wake up.”

“Menace,” the boy huffs, but does nothing to deter the captain, tilting his head slightly to give him more access to his neck.

Negan purrs, smirking as he takes the invitation and mouths softly at Carl’s neck. His hand travels back down, palming and squeezing instead at Carl’s thigh where he knows he’s sensitive.

Keening, Carl loosens his legs from where they were squeezed around Negan’s thigh.

“Mm, good, pet,” Negan murmurs, curving his hand around to grab at the inner meat of Carl’s thigh.

“Trying to butter me up?” Carl asks lightly, reaching his hand back to rake his fingers through Negan’s hair just like he knows the man enjoys.

“Always,” Negan says, groaning low as a shudder runs up his spine. He nips carefully under Carl’s jaw before dropping a kiss there. “C’mere, love. Kiss me.”

Carl has to shift a little to angle his head up and kiss Negan properly, and he hums in delight at the barely there prickle of Negan’s mostly smooth face as he does.

Negan’s hand slides back to Carl’s stomach as he kisses him lazy and slow, perfect for a sleepy morning. Even the way he licks inside Carl’s mouth has a gentleness about it, a simmering hunger instead of a burning one. Negan wants to take his time with Carl this morning. Savor him.

Carl’s participation in the kiss is soft, laidback. He lets himself enjoy the pace of Negan’s lips rather than pushing for more. Sucking gently on the man’s tongue, but not nipping or pushing forward like he normally would.

“Mm…” Negan smiles against Carl’s lips. “What a way to wake up.” He trails his lips away, skimming them over the scar on Carl’s cheek and up towards his socket. “You sleep good, love?”

Carl takes a breath, aware of the sensitivity over his scar tissue. His eye slips closed, fingers combing through Negan’s hair. “As good as I ever do, my love.”

“Good,” Negan whispers against Carl’s skin, purring softly. He moves up to kiss the other end of the scar bisecting Carl’s eyebrow, making sure the whole thing is covered.

Carl squirms slightly, scrunching up his nose a little. Part of him much prefers the touching of his socket to the touching of the scar where his nerves are less predictable. “You?”

“Me? I slept perfect,” Negan says with a smile, dropping a kiss right to the edge of Carl’s socket. He loves feeling Carl wiggling under his hand from sensitive kisses. “Having you here with us always ensures a good night for me.”

“Flatterer,” Carl mumbles, pulling Negan back down for another of those lovely soft kisses that make him feel melty inside.

As they kiss, Negan’s hand slides once again up Carl’s body, taking his shirt up as he palms at Carl’s chest. He can feel Carl’s heart beating beneath his warm skin, relishing in the way he can make it speed up by deepening the kiss just a little.

Just then, Carl’s exposed stomach gets lithe fingers dancing across it as Dwight reaches out to touch. “Oh, a wonderful view to wake to.”

A pleased sound escapes Carl, muffled into Negan’s mouth. As loathe as he is to be the center of attention he does adore having both of their hands on him. He draws back from the kiss to look towards Dwight, smiling softly. “Good morning, dear heart.”

Dwight smiles back, tracing soft shapes on Carl’s skin while Negan’s mouth falls again to Carl’s neck. “Morning, lad. I see Negan is getting his breakfast in early?”

“Something like that,” Carl breathes, arching a little to give both men more room even as he desperately hopes Negan won’t mark his throat up too terribly.

Dwight laughs softly and leans in to nuzzle his nose into Negan’s hair, drawing the captain away from Carl’s neck so he can kiss him. Negan hums in pleasure as he kisses Dwight back, both of their hands on Carl keeping him firmly trapped between them.

Carl, for his part, takes special pleasure in enjoying the show. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see anything better than these two loving each other.

They eventually break apart, Negan peppering soft kisses to the marred side of Dwight’s face and making him giggle softly. “Alright, alright. C’mon, love. I’m hungry. I’m sure our food is waiting for us outside.”

“Mm, breakfast in bed?” Negan asks with a grin.

“Not if you want us to get back in it later.”

“You know the rules,” Carl agrees with Dwight, sitting up to press a kiss against Negan’s temple. He worms his way out of bed, night shirt falling back down his thighs.

Negan pouts but doesn’t say anything else, eyes tracking Carl and the edge of his shirt. He may have just had his hands up it, but something about the tease of the fabric just covering Carl’s ass makes Negan’s mouth water more than the thought of food.

“Later,” Dwight murmurs to Negan, giving him another kiss before pushing him out of the bed and to the table, sitting him down in a chair.

Carl moves over to the door, cracking it open to spy the trays in the hall. He’s almost surprised to see one larger tray settled outside this room rather than the usual three in front of each room.

“Huh,” he kneels down, picking up the tray and pulling it into the room. Kicking the door shut, he makes his way over to the table.

“What did they bring us today?” Dwight asks, settling in the chair next to Negan as he watches Carl set the tray down.

“Well there’s fruit salad so I’m sold,” Carl hums, glancing over the other dishes. “Looks like some pastry stuff too, something you’d like. I’m guessing this one without icing is for me.”

“Do you think it’s the cooks that know us so well, or is Zeke putting in special requests?” Negan asks, plucking up one of the pastries covered in sugary icing.

“I’m sure he gave them some pointers.” Dwight smiles, plucking up a piece of toast to spoon jam onto.

“Either way,” Carl says, curling up in his chair like a crumpled piece of paper, before scooping up his fruit, “I’m glad to have it. One of the few things I’ll miss when we get back to sea.”

Dwight hums in agreement as he sinks his teeth into his toast.

Chapter 43

Summary:

The boys finally get the night they’ve been waiting for.

 

“I think a gathering sounds like a grand idea!”

“It’s not too much?”

Ezekiel shakes his head, clapping Negan on the back. “Of course not! You know I love any excuse for a social occasion, and if it’s also something that will make Dear Carl happy, well…” They both look toward where Dwight and Carl are reaching for fresh fruit off the stem of the trees they stand under. The dappled light through the leaves makes their features look soft, smiles gorgeous. “Think he has us both wrapped around his little finger, eh?”

“God, don’t I know it,” Negan says with a smile and warmth in his eyes.

“Ohhh,” Carl says happily, finding the plums still soft and ripe. He pulls one down, inspecting it for bug or worm holes. “I’ve never had a fresh plum.”

“I don’t care much for plums,” Dwight says from next to him where he’s holding a basket filled with their picks. “But I think it’s just a personal preference.”

“I think I pretty much like all fruits,” Carl comments with an easy shrug. He drops two plums in the basket and grabs one for himself, digging in his coat pockets for a set of pliers to pull the seed out.

“I’m partial to apples,” Dwight says, glancing over their haul of red and green apples in their basket so far. “But I do enjoy a few others.” He looks up and glances back to Negan and Ezekiel, just keeping an eye on where they are. They’ve been keeping back a little ways and talking quietly, which means they’re probably planning something, but Dwight knows to wait to ask.

“The green ones are good,” the boy says agreeably, pocketing his tool once more so that he can enjoy his treat. “I guess if I had to pick, I’d probably pick something citrusy. I like the bite to it.”

“I do enjoy a nice lime with my meal,” Dwight says contemplatively. “Even heard some people put them in their beer. I don’t know about that, but to each their own.” He watches Carl’s expression as he eats his plum, happy to see Carl happy.

“Sounds great,” Carl hums. “Like grog but lighter. I wouldn’t mind trying that.”

“Mm. Shouldn’t be too hard to make some ourselves. I’m sure Ezekiel has lime trees somewhere.” Reaching out, Dwight rests his free hand on the back of Carl’s head, petting him lightly.

“Sounds like a plan.” The boy casts a curious look in the way of the scheming captain and king before shrugging and walking a bit closer to Dwight, curling his arm around the first mate’s waist.

Dwight lets out a soft noise, cheeks going light pink as he smiles and leans into Carl’s hold. “Let’s head down the way. I think I saw some cherry trees.”

“Oh, good idea. We can see if the kitchen has chocolate to cover them in for Negan,” Carl says, angling his head the way he’s been directed as he finishes off his plum.

“Oh, how decadent,” Dwight says, laughing softly. “I might even try that. Haven’t had chocolate in a while. We should stop off in Mexico sometime and get some fresh cocoa, yeah?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” Carl paces their way down the slope. “Cook says a lot of his hotter spices came from there, so that’s more than enough reason for me.”

“Negan will like those too. He likes the heat.” Looking around as they walk, Dwight takes in their beautiful surroundings and breathes in the warm air. “I can’t stand anything too hot, but a little bit is tasty.”

“From everything I’ve seen Negan eat, I don’t think he has my spice tolerance,” the boy comments, thinking back to their last time here.

“Aye, well, he has more than me anyway,” Dwight says with a snort. “I don’t like eating food that hurts my mouth.”

“You well know I enjoy things that hurt me a little,” Carl says, voice low and jaw tilted to speak next to the man’s ear.

Dwight shivers and slips his gaze over to Carl, feeling his cheeks heat just a little. “Yes, well… Think you may get something like that tonight. Negan’s chomping at the bit to sink into one of us, though he’s been so patient with us really.”

The boy hums innocently. “If I had it my way I would have had both of you by now, so I like to believe I’ve been the patient one.”

“O-oh? Really?” Dwight’s eyes go wide as he stares at Carl, his mind suddenly racing, pulse thrumming. “I mean… I didn’t know that. You can ask, you know?” He reaches out to tug gently on Carl’s hair. “I think… Sometimes I think we still get caught up in thinking you are still, eh…” He circles his hand in the air as he tries to come up with the word. “Innocent? New to this?”

“I’m new to parts of it,” Carl admits easily. “But there’s something to be said about the trust I have for the two of you.” He drags his tongue over his bottom lip before tacking on: “Besides, we all know how much I enjoy having my mouth used.”

Dwight chokes softly, fanning at his face as he looks away, trying to find respite in the leaves above. “Yes, well… There is that.” He clears his throat, running his hand down his face before glancing back to Carl with a little smile. “Perhaps tonight then.”

“Sounds lovely.” Carl squeezes the arm that’s around Dwight’s waist, drawing him a little closer. He won’t risk looking behind him to see if Negan has caught on to Dwight’s flushed state but he can’t help but be a little pleased with himself. “Can’t wait.”

Dwight laughs lightly and leans in to press a kiss to Carl’s temple before looking back ahead of them. “Ah, look! Cherries!”

“Indeed, cherries,” Carl says, allowing Dwight’s attention to be taken by the little fruits. He loosens his hold on the blond, giving him chance to escape if he needs to take it.

“We should collect a good amount of these. I like these,” Dwight muses as he pulls away with a little hop, shoving his hand into a tree to start searching for the treats within.

Ezekiel appears from behind Carl, moving towards Dwight to help. “I like these too, Master Dwight. Allow me to help.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Negan takes up the space next to Carl, resting his palm against Carl’s back. “Having fun out here, pet?”

“Oh tons,” Carl answers slyly. He leans right into Negan’s touch, happy to watch the other two do the cherry picking until they get done or ask for help. “And you… Captain?”

Negan’s eyebrows raise and he grins, leaning in to press a kiss where Dwight had not a moment ago. “Love it when you call me that. I am having a blast. Got a little surprise planned for ya this weekend. Zeke and I hashed it out. Think you’re gonna like it.”

“I’m guessing by his majesty’s inclusion the surprise is nothing to do with the bedroom,” Carl comments, feeling a bit cheeky.

“Wouldn’t you be so lucky? No, not this time,” Negan says with a hungry smile. “Let’s just say you’ll get to wear that pretty dress you found in your room.”

Happiness swells in his chest, and Carl surges up, pressing a hand against the man’s chest to balance himself. He angles his head, pressing up into a kiss.

“Thank you,” he murmurs when he pulls back.

Negan’s quick to hook his arm around Carl’s waist to keep him close, kissing him again quickly. “Of course, my lovely pet. It’s my pleasure.”

The boy allows himself a moment to melt into Negan’s hold. It’s not often he lets himself be trapped like this, always on the move worrying about everyone else. He tilts his head, soft smile spreading over his face. “Maybe I should go find some pretty shoes to wear with it.”

“I think that would be acceptable,” Negan says with a nod, drinking in the expression on Carl’s face. “Dwight and I will need something to wear as well. Perhaps you can help us raid Zeke’s clothes cache to pick something to match you.”

“I suppose I can do that,” Carl breathes, arms coming up to rest on Negan’s shoulders. “You’ll both look dashing in anything, I’m sure.”

“Oh, sure, but it will be nice to look cohesive when we’ve got you on our arms.” Negan wraps his other arm around Carl’s waist, swaying them together gently.

The boy flutters his lashes a bit, figuring it has much less of an effect with only one eye. “I’ll already be wearing your color, my love. I’m sure cohesive is more than achievable.”

“Mm. I can’t wait to see you decked out. You should let me braid some jewelry into your hair.” Negan leans in, bumping his forehead to Carl’s. “Have you shining from your head to your toes.”

“I’d like that.” The awful, crooked grin spreads across his face, silly and fond. “I have some things we can use.”

“I bet you do.” Negan laughs softly, kissing that beautiful, marred smile.

A pleased sound is pressed into their kiss, and when they pull back, Carl tilts his head towards the two who seem to be nearly done. “I have a few pieces for him too if you think you can convince him.”

“Oh, that’s easy enough,” Negan says, looking towards Dwight and Ezekiel and laughing at how many cherries now overflow the other fruit in the basket. “You’ll both be stunning.”

“Flatterer,” the boy huffs, scratching his nails lightly through the hair at the nape of Negan’s neck.

Negan shivers, pulling Carl closer and growling softly. “Keep that up, and I’ll be pulling you behind one of these trees.”

Carl lets his hands fall, leaning up to kiss the curve of Negan’s jaw. “Not with his highness around, my love.”

Groaning, Negan reluctantly lets Carl go before the words click in his brain and he grabs at Carl again. “Wait, so if Zeke wasn’t around… You wouldn’t be opposed to some outdoors foolin’ around?”

“If we wouldn’t get caught I don’t see why not,” Carl comments with a shrug as he steps back away from Negan’s grabbing hand, straightening his coat. “I never had any problem with it happening outside, I had problem with the probability of being walked up on while it’s happening.”

“You little devil. No voyeur kink, but up for other things.” Negan laughs and follows Carl, grabbing at him again. “I won’t forget this. Dwight would never let me do anything without four walls around us.”

“I think,” Carl says lowly, leaning into the man as he lets himself be grabbed, “you should focus on what we want to do in the bedroom rather than outside of it. Don’t you?”

“I can multitask,” Negan says, his grin sharp and eyebrows bouncing as he pulls Carl close to him again. “Don’t you worry, love. I can plan some good romps in bed and also in the grass.”

“Menace,” the boy sighs fondly, knocking his knuckles against Negan’s chest.

“Your menace,” Negan says, leaning in to bump their noses together.

“Negan, dear, look!” The basket of fruit gets set down beside the two as Dwight appears, reaching in to pick up a cherry. He plucks one up and then holds it out to Negan with a grin. “Try one! They’re delicious.”

Negan hums and loosens his hold on Carl so he can lick the cherry into his mouth straight from Dwight’s hand, stem and all. It leaves Dwight blushing as Negan chews. “Mm. Mhm. That’s really good.”

Carl snorts, shoving his hand over his mouth to contain it as he shakes his head. Escaping the loose hold he plucks up one of the cherries himself. “Pretty sure parts of this aren’t edible, my love.”

Negan holds up a finger, working the cherry around in his mouth for a moment more. Ezekiel joins them with a knowing look on his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches with glee.

With a little flourish, Negan spits the clean cherry pit out into his palm and then plucks the stem, expertly tied into a knot, off his tongue. He offers it to Carl with a cheeky grin. “For you, my dear.”

Carl rolls his eye not even bothering to reach out for either. He already knows the kinds of things Negan can do with his tongue, after all.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” he asks, nibbling at his own cherry.

“Maybe a little bit,” Negan says, a little crestfallen.

Ezekiel laughs and claps Negan on the shoulder. “I remember the first time you did that in the pub. Had a gaggle of ladies swooning.”

“Yes, well, they haven’t seen all of the other things he can do that are far more impressive,” Carl brushes off with a shake of his head.

“At least you’ve got something going for you,” Ezekiel says with another laugh.

“Maybe you can tell me all the impressive things I do later tonight, eh?” Negan tosses his stem and pit to the ground before helping Dwight pick up the filled basket.

“Don’t be a cad,” Carl huffs, discarding his own pit and stem. It’s clear on his face he doesn’t mean it to be high insult especially when he dips his head to murmur in Negan’s ear as the man straightens: “Besides, I have it on good authority my mouth will be busy with other things.”

Negan’s eyebrows go up as his eyes widen, ravenous hunger swimming in them. The only reason Negan finds any restraint is because Ezekiel is there, and Carl’s been vocal about not having an audience. “Sounds like a good night,” he whispers back, noticing the light pink hue on Dwight’s cheeks when he catches what they’re saying.

Carl swipes another cherry as he moves past the two, sliding up next to Ezekiel. “I should get away from that basket before I spoil my dinner.”

Ezekiel smiles and wraps his arm around Carl as they make their way back to the castle. “I’ve yet to see you ever not hungry, dear boy. Would be a sight to have you spoil a meal from a bit of fruit.”

Carl adapts his walking to the motion easily, finishing off the cherry. “You have a point, your majesty.”

“Yes, well. A large appetite for a boy your age is a healthy thing, I think. You need the energy for all your… activities.” Ezekiel bites his lip around a knowing look, giving Carl’s shoulder a squeeze.

Heat licks over Carl’s cheeks at the insinuation. “You’re very right, your majesty. I need all the energy I can get to put up with this crew.”

“I bet you do, lad. I bet you do.” Ezekiel chuckles. “Anyhow, did Negan tell you of our plans for the weekend?”

“An excuse to wear a pretty dress I wasn’t allowed to wear before coming here,” Carl says happily. “Or so he tells me.”

“Aye, that is the main reason he asked for it,” Ezekiel says with a nod. “Shall I tell you the details, or would you like to be surprised?”

“Surprise me,” Carl decides before even thinking about it. “Just don’t be too shocked when I step in just as armed as usual.”

Laughing loudly, Ezekiel shakes his head fondly. “I wouldn’t expect any different, though you technically shouldn’t need any weapons at this. It will be this Saturday night, so you’ve a few days to get ready. I know Negan mentioned to me finding something for him and Dwight, and I’ve got plenty to look through.”

Carl pats the man’s arm gently, almost placating. “You and I both know I don’t go anywhere without at least three sharp things on me at all times.”

Carl pauses for a moment to quirk a half-smile up at the king. “I already found a pretty dress in my room, I just need to get ahold of some nice shoes to go with it.”

“You may look through my stash or head out into the town. I’m sure you will find some to your satisfaction somewhere,” Ezekiel says. He taps his chin, looking up to the leaves in thought. “I should have something, but I don’t particularly look at the pretty shoes in my collection every day.”

“I’ll want something gold, if it can be found,” the boy comments thoughtfully. “Though I'm glad to have time to look if you don’t have anything that fits in your collection.”

“Of course, of course. I know enough not to spring an event immediately onto the guest of honor.” They reach the end of the row of fruit trees and step out into the main garden area again, turning back to see how Negan and Dwight are faring with the basket. “Will you be taking the fruit to your room, or shall I have the kitchen prepare it in some way?”

“Guest of honor?” Carl hinges somewhat nervously before being distracted by the question. “Oh, I had hoped they could put some of the cherries in chocolate for after dinner. I figured Negan might enjoy them.”

“A marvelous idea. I’ll have the rest washed and brought to your room in the meantime,” Ezekiel says, taking the basket easily from Dwight and Negan. “I’ll see you all at dinner tonight. Enjoy the rest of the day!”

Carl rocks on his feet, watching the king go. “What should we do until dinner?”

“I can think of a few things,” Negan says, wrapping an arm around each of his lovers and pulling them in close. He presses a kiss to each of their cheeks before playfully biting at Dwight’s neck.

“Down boy,” Dwight says with a laugh, though he’s gone pink again and doesn’t look entirely too put out by the idea. “If we do what you want, we’ll miss dinner.”

“How about a stop by the library then,” Carl volunteers. “Like the first time we were here, we can play a round of chess while Dwight starts one of his new books.”

“I like that idea,” Dwight says with a nod, reaching out to take Carl’s hand and give it a squeeze.

“Yeah, yeah. That sounds good.” Negan gives them both a kiss again before ushering them along towards the castle. “Any opportunity to kick your ass in a game of chess is fine by me.”

“I’ll endeavor not to be offended since it’s the only place you do manage to kick my ass,” Carl snarks lightly, squeezing Dwight’s hand back.

Negan laughs loud and they continue on their way.

~

 

A few games of chess and a nice dinner with chocolate covered cherries later, they retire to their rooms. It’s still a little early in the night, but Dwight had whispered something to Negan at dinner and he’d been antsy to leave since.

Now, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling Carl into his lap, locking their lips together as Dwight walks up from the other side and presses against Carl’s back.

“Want you,” Negan growls into Carl’s mouth. “Want you so bad.”

Carl laughs softly into the kiss, dropping his hands to undo his weapons belt. Everything else can be pulled off of him in any way they want, but this needs to go against the bed in easy reach.

“We really riled you up today huh, my love?” He tilts to the side, allowing the two men to kiss over his shoulder as he puts his sword belt against the bed.

There’s two sets of hands skimming over his body, his legs, his arms, both men turning to press kisses to Carl’s neck. Negan hums in affirmative as he leans away to look into Carl’s eye. “You have no idea,” he says, squeezing Carl’s hips. “God, the restraint I’ve had… Tell me, pet.” He leans in to kiss Carl again. “Tell me how you want me. Soft? Rough? I’m going to have you, you just tell me how.”

Carl shuffles off his coat in the thin space between he and Dwight’s bodies, pleasant tingles shooting up his spine from the grasp on his hips. “Prep me enough that it doesn’t hurt, and you can have me any way you want, love.”

“Fuck. I love you.” Negan drags Carl in for another kiss before he starts helping tug off Carl’s shirt. Dwight has also started losing clothing behind him, and Negan’s about to go insane from the sight alone. “Oil. We need oil.”

“I have some coconut oil in my bag over there,” Carl says, unable to gesture to where it hangs off the wardrobe with his shirt being extracted from his body. “Let me go get it and put my eye away.”

Groaning, Negan reluctantly lets Carl go, helping him to the floor. He’s assuaged only by Dwight stepping forward and helping rid Negan of his own clothes with deft hands and soft lips while they wait for Carl to get back.

Carl makes quick work of his eye, kicking his boots off on his way to his bag. He puts the sapphire in its little velvet lined box, safely stowing it in exchange for a full vial of coconut oil.

Pinching the vial between his teeth, he moves back towards the bed, fingers working at the fastenings of his trousers.

Dwight is bare and crawling up into the bed by the time Carl comes back, Negan still working on kicking his boots and pants off. He gets distracted looking over his lovers for a moment, licking his lips and groaning. “What beautiful creatures I get to enjoy.”

“You don’t have to flatter us,” Carl huffs fondly, reaching out to hand Negan the vial as he pushes his trousers and smalls off leaving him bare. “We’re already here.”

“I like the flattery,” Dwight says with a laugh, beckoning Carl onto the bed with him. “And he likes to give it.”

Negan bites his lip and nods, clutching the oil securely as he finishes removing his clothes, pushing them aside. “I do. I do.”

Carl slips onto the bed rather than responding. He kneels up next to Dwight, cradling the man’s jaw between his hands before ducking to press a needy kiss to his mouth. He’s better at not talking.

Dwight moans softly, closing his eyes and kissing back. The bed dips again when Negan climbs up, slotting himself behind Carl and watching the two kiss with lust written all over his face. “God, you two look so fucking good together.”

Carl pulls back from Dwight’s mouth to scrape his teeth over the cut of the blonde’s jaw. Kissing over the skin there and down the man’s neck, he arches into Negan’s warmth searching for touch.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Negan’s broad hands slide down his sides to his thighs, Negan’s chest pressing against Carl’s back. Dwight’s shivering beneath Carl as Negan presses forward to kiss him, sandwiching Carl tighter between them.

Carl hums, low and pleased. He dips his head, dragging his teeth over the expanse of one of Dwight’s collarbones, settling in to mark up the places where his marks are fading. He might prefer marks on him to be lower but Dwight always responds well to these.

Tonight is no different, Carl and Negan both stringing moans and gasps out of Dwight. His hands find Carl’s chest as he tries to arch into Carl’s mouth, whining when Negan joins in biting at his throat. “Holy shit…”

“So lovely,” Carl murmurs, nipping his way to the other collarbone as he slides his other hand down to Dwight’s waist to press their bodies better together.

“Oh…” Dwight shivers and melts into Carl’s touch, only opening his eyes when Negan moves away with one more kiss. He watches Negan gather Carl’s hair and shift it to the side so he can trail kisses along the back of Carl’s neck, softly sinking his teeth into the nape.

A soft grunt escapes Carl at the touch and he shrugs his shoulder a little, hoping to bat the man away to better places. His movement is hampered by Negan’s hold on his hair so he leans back from Dwight’s chest, getting his knees under him a little better to that he can use his other hand to roll his fingers over the blonde’s nipples.

Laughing softly at being pushed away, Negan shifts his fingers into the roots of Carl’s hair and tugs his head back, quickly but carefully. “C’mon, pet. Let’s get some fingers inside ya already, huh?” he speaks against Carl’s cheek, squeezing at the crease of Carl’s thigh and groin with his free hand. “Let’s lay you down on your back.”

Carl lets out a soft sound at the tugging of his hair and regretfully lets go of Dwight so that Negan can manipulate him over on his back. He wiggles a bit, splaying his legs so that Negan can make his place between them.

“This is one of those things I’ve never done,” Carl admits quietly, not nervous because this is Negan but still slightly withdrawn. It’s hard not to be sometimes, knowing how much experience they have over him.

“I know, love. Don’t worry. Despite all my indiscretions, I know when to be careful.” Negan smiles, running his hands down Carl’s thighs and taking in the sight of the boy exposed just for him. Fuck, it’s a pretty sight. “Nothing should hurt, okay? You tell me if it does, and we’ll adjust. No toughing it out, okay? No gritting your teeth and baring.”

Dwight nods in agreement as he shuffles closer, pushing Carl’s hair away from his face and leaning down to kiss his forehead. The new marks on Dwight’s skin are pink and wet still, shining in the low lantern light.

“No toughing it out,” Carl agrees with a fond smile before angling his chin up to catch Dwight in another soft kiss. He thinks it will be easier this way, maybe he won’t tense up or anything if he’s not watching and waiting.

“Good.” Plucking up the vial of oil he’d set aside, Negan shifts a little, hooking his hand under one of Carl’s knees. “Dwight, dear, could you?”

“I’ll take one if you wanna take the other?” Dwight says down to Carl, taking Carl’s offered leg from Negan and bringing Carl’s knee gently back towards his chest. “This position will help open you up for him to start with.”

Carl jolts slightly at the movement before realizing what’s going on and shifting his hips to more comfortably take the stretch. He takes the other leg in hand, pulling it up to his chest.

Not knowing what to do with his other hand, he lowers it, sliding it flat under the small of his back. “Yes, this absolutely isn’t just to see how much I’ll let you both bend me.”

Snickering softly, Negan trails his fingers down Carl’s torso, circling around his cock. “It’s really not, but you can think that if you want,” he says, fingers dipping lower slowly so Carl can track where he is.

Carl lets his eye slip closed, trying to remain relaxed. He loves the feel of Negan’s hands on him, and this is no different. He still ends up turning his face into his knee, nose dragging against Dwight’s fingertips.

Negan’s eyes flick up to Carl’s face just before he continues slipping his fingers down over Carl’s perineum until he can swirl them over his waiting hole. Negan’s breath stutters softly in his throat to think that he’s the first to touch Carl here, will be the first to be inside Carl here.

“Tell me how it feels, love,” Dwight murmurs down at Carl, petting Carl with his free hand even as his eyes are trained on Negan. “Sensitive?”

Carl shivers, taking a steadying breath. “Feels… new. Slick. Not as sensitive as my eye.”

“Mm, just wait, honey,” Negan says, teasing around Carl’s hole for a moment more before he drips oil directly onto it and rubs that in with the tips of his fingers. “Gonna get one in you now, okay? Shouldn’t hurt at all. Deep breaths.”

Taking his own deep breath, Negan waits a moment to watch Carl before he presses in with his pointer finger, sinking so easily into Carl’s heat.

Carl gasps softly at the intrusion, even breaths stuttering for a moment. It’s not bad at all. Extremely foreign and something he’ll have to get used to? Yes. But definitely not bad.

He can almost understand why Dwight likes it. Assuming it gets better as it goes.

“Doing well, sweetheart. So, so good,” Dwight praises, leaning just a little closer to Negan so he can see the way his finger disappears into Carl.

“Fuck, you already feel so good, pet. So warm,” Negan says, working his single finger out and then back in, adding a little more oil as he does. He’d rather err on the side of too much than not enough in this situation.

Carl hums, getting used to the intrusion much quicker than he’d thought. His body trembles between the touch of both of his lovers and that silly nickname that gets him even after so long. “It’s good, I’m okay.”

“Alright, lad. I’m gonna add another.” With another drip of oil, Negan works his first two fingers into Carl, curling them slightly as he pushes them in. He uses his free hand to rub soothing circles onto Carl’s thigh, keeping a close watch on his face.

“Hah hng,” Carl shifts a little, unsure whether he’s trying to push down on Negan’s fingers or pull away. In the end he just tries to keep himself still, gasping again at the curl of Negan’s fingers.

“Shh, love. Relax. You okay? Does it hurt?” Negan stops with his fingers to the knuckle inside of Carl, giving him a moment, while Dwight gently runs a hand over his chest and stomach, trying to give him something else to focus on.

Carl shakes his head, forehead still pressed against his knee. “No. No, I just don’t know what I’m feeling. Keep going.”

Smiling, Negan gives a hum and starts moving again, keeping his movements long and smooth.

“Can I touch your cock, dear?” Dwight asks, leaning in near Carl’s ear. “Would that be too much for you? I find it helps to take the edge off.”

“Would rather touch yours,” Carl mumbles, breathless. He’s pretty sure all that attention would overwhelm him.

“You wanna? You can if you’d like,” Dwight says with a smile, trailing his fingers down Carl’s free arm and tugging his hand out from under him. Dwight brings it up to kiss the back of before resting it down on his thigh next to his half hard cock.

Carl would much rather have the man in his mouth, but this works too. He traces the crux of Dwight’s thigh, sliding his fingers across the neat blonde hair above his cock and then back down to start touching gently at the base.

It does actually help, having something to do. It makes everything a little less hard focused on him. He almost wants to thank the man for allowing his touch.

“Mm, good, lad. That’s nice.” Dwight shifts a little closer, resting his free hand now on Carl’s head, gently scratching his nails along his scalp.

Negan smiles watching the two, glad to have the extra help in keeping Carl comfortable. He can feel the way Carl loosens up around his fingers, and thinks he’s ready for a little more.

Scissoring open his fingers, Negan works on stretching Carl, aiming to get at least three fingers in before he attempts his cock.

Carl moans softly at the feeling, shifting a little closer to Dwight to curl his fingers around the blonde’s cock. It’s good, he’s starting to like the feeling of Negan’s fingers inside him now that he’s not focusing so hard on trying to take them. He strokes Dwight slowly, building a slow rhythm.

“Good, good. So good. Wonderful,” Negan murmurs, words spilling with barely a thought. He watches the way his fingers stretch and sink into Carl, heat building in his gut from the thought that his dick will soon be in there. “Tell me when you’re ready for another, pet. Wanna get another in you. Get you real stretched out for me.”

“Want another,” Carl breathes almost immediately. His legs are starting to get tired of being held like this and there’s no more discomfort, so now is clearly the time.

“Damn, okay. Yeah. Here we go.” Negan licks his lips, slicking and pressing a third inside. He rests his free hand down on Carl’s belly, gently holding him as he slowly sinks in. “How’s it feel?”

Carl distracts himself on the insertion by rolling the pad of his finger in a circle around the head of Dwight’s cock. It almost works and then Negan splays his stupid big hand across Carl’s belly while he pushes his fingers in and Carl’s left moaning sharply.

“Yeah? That good, huh?” Negan breathes a deep laugh, rocking his fingers gently, curving them up and spreading them apart. Dwight’s soft moans are mixing with Carl’s and driving Negan crazy, but he’s so close to getting where he needs to be that he steels himself to focus on his task.

“Menace,” Carl hisses, letting go of his leg but keeping his arm around it to reach out and flatten his hand over Negan’s on his stomach. He nearly mewls. So often is he swanning around Negan, walking with him and fighting with him like they’re equals, that he often forgets how much bigger the man is physically.

“Yeah, pet. I’m a menace. I'm a dastardly, pirate, menace.” Negan leans forward, changing the angle of his fingers just a hair, and presses his lips to Carl’s ankle. “And you love it. Love me stretching you out just to fit my cock in you. Think I’ll go up to here? Where my hand is? Think you’ll feel me deep in your belly, my lovely pet?”

“Fuck,” Carl moans, hips pressing down. Yes, that’s starting to feel good, very good, and the idea that Negan would be so far inside him he’d be in his stomach makes Carl keen. “Oh lord!”

“Mm… I think you’re ready, dear. You’re leaking so wonderfully for me. Love, look at this.”

Dwight leans over and watches as Negan pulls his fingers out of Carl, showing off how slick and stretched he is. Dwight can’t help but moan, his cock twitching in Carl’s hand. “Yeah, I think he’s ready.”

Negan purrs and tugs his fingers all the way out, using his slicked hand to stroke his cock as he watches Carl’s hole flutter around nothing. Fuck. “Alright, pet. Do you want to stay like this? I think it would be easier for your first time if you flipped over, hands and knees.”

“Wanna flip,” the boy mumbles, pulling his hand away from Dwight’s cock and letting his leg down. He feels empty now, and he’d like to chase that feeling away as soon as possible.

He stretches his legs out for a moment when Dwight lets go of the other one, working out the ache from staying in that position for a period of time. Finally, he twists himself around, pushing up on his knees and scooting back a little so there’s room between him and the headboard.

Carl reaches out to Dwight tugging his arm. “C’mon, want you in me too.”

“Yes, love. You’ll get me too.” This. This is what Dwight was imagining earlier. To see it come to fruition in front of him now is almost too much.

He moves around to kneel in front of Carl, but keeps his hips low, bending down to kiss Carl instead of giving him what Dwight knows he wants. No, Dwight wants to wait. Wants to watch Carl’s face as Negan enters him first.

Hands on Carl’s hips, Negan groans as he grinds his cock against Carl. He’s added more oil, and feels disgustingly wet with it, but he knows it’ll be better for Carl. Lining himself up, Negan breathes in deep and lets it out slow. “Okay, my dear. Breathe, relax, and if you need me to stop, you say so.”

“‘M gonna kick him,” Carl mumbles to Dwight between kisses. He’s filthy and slick and empty and Negan is taunting him with his dick right there in reach but not putting it in.

He grinds his hips back, hoping that it’s as enticing as he is impatient. “Negan, I’m not glass.”

Dwight snickers softly against Carl’s lips, opening his eyes to look up at Negan who huffs and grips tighter to Carl’s hips. “Screw me for caring about ya,” he says. “Playing with fire, pet, but I’ll give you what you want.”

Negan locks eyes with Dwight just as he rolls his hips forward and immediately sinks half of his cock into Carl’s wet heat, groaning low and deep in his chest.

“Ah!” The moan escapes Carl before he can even process it, eeking out of his throat with a breath. He knew that he was going to feel full, he’d longed for it, but he didn’t realize how hot it would be inside. The weight, the heat of another person. He knows Negan isn’t all the way in and he barely wants to let himself adjust, fingers curling in the sheets as he fights to keep himself still. “Oh god!”

“You okay, lad?” Dwight murmurs as he lifts Carl’s chin to watch his face contort in pleasure. “Feels good doesn’t it? Having him fill you up in ways you’ve never felt.” His eyes flick over to watch Negan pull back and thrust back in, giving Carl a little more each time. “He’s not even all the way in yet. Oh, he’ll fill you up so nicely, won’t he?”

It takes real, honest effort to make words work. He wants to slip into that floaty place and just enjoy the feel of Negan fucking into him but he can’t yet because they’ll do something awful like stop. He pants against Dwight’s wrist, “It’s good. Want more. Fuck, Negan!”

“Oh, yes, pet. Say my name. Say my fucking name,” Negan practically growls out, as he carves a space for himself inside Carl. “God, you feel good, Carl, love. So fucking good. Just a little more.”

A few more rolls of his hips has Negan flush against Carl and panting, grinding his cock as deep as it can go inside of him, and it’s bliss. Utter bliss.

“Oh, oh god,” Carl gasps, dropping his head down against Dwight’s abdomen. It’s so good, he wants to squeeze his legs together for some reason, like it will feel even better if it does.

His whole body trembles and arches into Negan’s touch. “Negan, Christ, needed this…”

“Yeah, you did. Fucking built to take my cock, aren’t ya?” Negan pants heavily, running his hands up and down Carl’s sides, smoothing over his back. “Doing so well for me. My good little pet.”

“Yes,” Carl pants out, gasping softly at the dual feeling of Negan’s hands gentling him as he thrusts in and out of him. “Yes, ‘m good, so good.”

He paws at Dwight’s side weakly. He wants to be filled up, he doesn’t want to have to talk, he just wants to listen and be taken.

“You want Dwight too, pet? So hungry you need two cocks in ya, eh?” Negan laughs, slowing his thrusts just a little to let Dwight get into position.

Cradling Carl’s face in his hands, Dwight rises up on his knees in front of him. “Take what you want, dear. Go on.”

A keen slips out as Carl dips his head forward in Dwight’s hold. He mouths hungrily at the shaft of Dwight’s cock, wetting it liberally with his tongue to make the glide smoother when he reaches the tip.

He’s been thinking about this since that day bent over Negan’s desk with Dwight’s cock between his thighs. He’s been more than patient.

“There you go, lad. Nice.” Dwight shivers, petting Carl’s hair with one hand as his eyes are trained down on those pair of soft pink lips lathing over his cock. “Wonderful, Carl.”

Carl’s eye flutters closed under the praise. He slides his jaw open a little farther, accepting the head of Dwight’s cock into his mouth. He closes his lips around the tip, muffling a moan with it and laving his tongue against the slit.

“Oh, mm, fuck,” Dwight breathes, tensing his fingers in Carl’s hair. He looks up at Negan, who’s staring at the scene like a hungry wolf. He’s practically drooling as he digs his fingers into Carl’s hips and waist and ass and bucks into him hard enough to push him further down Dwight’s cock.

A choked moan leaves Carl. All full from both ends as Dwight’s cock brushes his throat, the boy lets himself drift into that nice floaty place where all he has to focus on is the feel of his lovers bracketing him. His fingers go a little slack in the bedsheets, tense shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Oh! Negan you-” Dwight groans, rocking gently into Carl’s mouth. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Yeah, love? He feel nice around you? His perfect mouth?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“C’mere.” Negan reaches out as Dwight leans forward, catching him by the chin and pulling him in for a kiss.

Carl feels them kiss over him more than sees them, the pressure of their two bodies pushing at either end to get to each other makes his back arch a little and with it comes a wash of extra pleasure he wasn’t expecting. It makes his toes curl and his whole body clench around them, prick practically drooling precum.

“Fuck, he’s squeezing me so nicely,” Negan growls into Dwight’s mouth, not stopping the rocking of his hips.

“Me too. Oh, his throat is so…” He whines, pulling back to look down at Carl again. He slips a hand down around the front of Carl’s neck like he’s trying to feel his cock in there from the outside.

Negan copies him, bending at the waist to slide his hands down to Carl’s belly, pressing against the soft skin. “You feel us in you, pet? Every hole, filled with us.”

A garbled moan escapes the boy, throat working around Dwight’s cock. Carl feels gone, fingers curled loosely in the bedsheets, body trembling, only really held up by the two men holding him together. It would probably be strange to admit he feels loved like this.

He reaches down, hand shaking, to press Negan’s hand harder against his stomach. It’s just about all the answer he can give, brain an endless ring of ‘yes yes yes’.

“Oh, Carl. Carl, our love. So good for us,” Negan babbles, panting and groaning as Dwight rakes his free hand through Negan’s hair. He knows he’s not going to last much longer, and based on the way Dwight is keening and whining, neither is he.

Leaving the hand Carl is holding pressed to his stomach, Negan shifts the other down, down, down until he’s stroking Carl’s cock in time with his thrusts. “Dripping, love. You’re dripping. We make you feel that good, yeah? God, fucking love you. Love you, love you.”

Carl moans around Dwight’s cock, sucking weakly at it. He can feel the shake in his thighs but it’s largely overpowered by the sheer amount of pleasure racing up his spine.

He squeezes Negan’s hand against his stomach. It’s the best he can do to respond, to say, ‘I love you too’, and to say ‘I love this, please keep going’.

“N-Negan, I’m- I’m gonna…” Dwight’s hands scramble, petting over Carl’s face and hair and shoulders.

“Go ahead, love. Come down our beautiful boy’s throat. Let him taste you and swallow all you have to give him.”

Dwight’s hips stutter as the spring in his belly winds tighter and tighter. Sweet nonsense is dripping from his lips down to Carl as he cradles his face reverently. “Carl, Carl… I love you. Fuck, love you. I’m…”

His jaw drops open as his hips cock forward one last time, burying Carl’s nose into Dwight’s lower belly as he comes down Carl’s throat.

Carl doesn’t have to work very hard to swallow it all down with how far inside him Dwight is. He just swallows rubbing his tongue gently against the bottom of his lover’s cock to help him through it. He’s rapidly approaching his own orgasm, Negan’s hand around his cock drenched in slick and sounding nearly as filthy as each thrust into him.

He wants Negan to finish inside him too, wants all of him to be full of these men. He shifts his hand, sliding his fingers between Negan’s on his stomach to knit them together, hoping it will get his thoughts across even through his brain fog.

“Oh, such a good job,” Negan purrs, squeezing Carl’s hand as he watches Dwight pant and shudder as he comes down from his high. He gently slides out of Carl’s mouth, plopping down to the bed as his legs give out under him, but hands still holding and caressing Carl.

“Thank you, my love. You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Carl’s forehead.

Carl breathes heavily. He hadn’t quite realized how much air he was lacking before and the rush of cool air down his aching throat is positively euphoric. A needy little keen escapes him and he drops down to his elbow, shoving his forehead into Dwight’s hip to hide his face.

He’s too close, the coil of heat in his stomach twisting tighter with every thrust and pull Negan gives him. “Need- need it, Neeg—”

“Fuck!” Negan’s thrusts grow erratic but rough as he tips over the edge, spilling deep inside Carl and working it even deeper. His hand on Carl’s cock doesn’t let up even as he leans forward to drop his head to Carl’s back, growling and groaning all the while.

Carl moans, harsh and broken into Dwight’s skin as he spills over Negan’s fingers. He feels drunken, too hot and floaty. It’s lovely, but his body is so weak it feels like he’s about to melt off Negan’s cock.

“Shh. Shh, love,” Dwight murmurs down at Carl, petting him softly. He smiles, watching the boy shiver in the aftershocks. “You did so well, Carl.”

Negan nods, pressing his lips to Carl’s back before he pushes himself up, gently extracting his hands to take hold of Carl’s hips. “Very well. Perfect. Wonderful. Easy now.” He and Dwight help hold Carl while Negan reluctantly slips out and then eases Carl onto his side on the bed. They brush his hair from his face and look him over. “Doing alright?”

Carl licks over his lips and smiles, half aware that it’s a little dopey. Glassy eyed and spent, he nods a little.

“Good,” he answers, voice absolutely wrecked in the best way. “So good.”

Negan and Dwight smile, both leaning in to press kisses to Carl’s face. “I’m glad,” Negan says, tugging up a clean corner of the top sheet to quickly but gently wipe Carl’s stomach and thighs. He can feel the post-orgasm exhaustion already hitting him, wanting nothing more than to curl up with his lovers now and pass out.

Carl rubs his throat a little, looking around slightly for the vial of coconut oil or a mug of something to drink they might have left around. He needs a sip of something or his throat is going to be hell in the morning. Patting around on the bed, a yawn escapes him.

“What are you looking for, dear?” Dwight asks, helping Negan shed the top sheet so they’re not laying in spend all night. As they shuffle it out from under Carl, the bottle of oil rolls off towards the pillows.

“Drink,” Carl mumbles, hand already redirecting to chase the vial towards the pillows.

Humming, Dwight looks towards the table. “You want that oil or you want some leftover ale?” He scoots off the bed and stands on shaky legs to reach out and grab the forgotten mug. It’s still a good ways filled, so he moves back to Carl and offers it to him. “Let me help you so it doesn’t spill, eh?”

Carl leans up more, tilting his chin back to Dwight can help him sip from the mug. It’s almost erotic, being helped this way with his lover’s fingers supporting the back of his neck. He’s too tired to put much thought into that though, drinking greedily for a few long sips to soothe his abused throat before pulling back. “Th’nk you.”

“Of course, dear. I can’t help feel responsible for the state of your throat, anyhow.” Dwight laughs softly, placing the mug onto the end table.

“Big Dick Dwight over here,” Negan teases, sliding up next to Dwight and pressing a kiss to his pink cheek. “Bet you filled his throat real good, huh?”

“Negan, please. How can you possibly still be aroused enough for dirty talk after all that?”

“It’s a skill.” Negan snorts, kissing Dwight again.

Carl giggles at the two men’s antics, sagging back down on his side amongst the pillows. “Liked it. Was nice.”

Negan groans softly at the sight, brushing the backs of his fingers over Carl’s cheek. “God, you are cute. We’re glad you had a good time, pet.”

Shifting, Negan and Dwight take their places on either side of Carl, sighing as their heads hit their respective pillows. Negan faces Carl, lightly pressing his knuckles under Carl’s chin so he can lean in and kiss him, while Dwight plasters himself to Carl’s back.

Carl briefly entertains the idea of Dwight sliding inside him in the morning to wake him up as he presses into the kiss. The thought is discarded as soon as it comes as he knows Dwight wouldn’t do such a thing without asking, and Carl is always the first up. It’s a pleasant thought anyhow, curling around his floaty brain as he enjoys the firm press of Negan’s mouth against his.

“Love you both,” comes Dwight’s soft voice from over Carl’s shoulder, already on the precipice of sleep.

“Love you too, dear,” Negan says, bumping his nose against Carl’s.

“Love you,” Carl mumbles, scrunching his nose up against Negan’s.

It takes but one more breath before Negan is pulled under by sleep, a smile still on his face and his arm thrown over Carl so he can also touch Dwight. He is content knowing his lovers are safe, sound, and satisfied, and in that moment Negan could want for nothing more.

 

~
Outfit inspo for the next chapter:

Chapter 44

Summary:

And then they dance.

Notes:

T: Thank you for joining us on this lengthy journey! It’s been fun but all good things have to have good endings. I swear I’ll be waking up every Sunday and Wednesday in a cold sweat thinking I forgot to post a new chapter ^-^

R: Thank you everyone who was here since we posted the first chapter, and thank you to everyone who reads this fic days, months, years after this final chapter is posted. 💜💜

Enjoy~

 

“You’re positive you know how to lace a corset?” Carl questions, carefully scooping his jeweled hair up in a scarf to keep it out of the way of his dressing. He doesn’t want to mess up Negan’s meticulous work braiding all those little braids with rings and chains into one big one.

“My friend, I have laced up more corsets than you can count,” Ezekiel says with a chuckle, adjusting the article on Carl before he starts to tighten it. “And unlaced even more than that, if you know what I mean.” He grins at Carl in the standing mirror in front of them, bouncing his eyebrows the way Negan does.

“Yes, well, pardon me for assuming my body is a bit different than those you’re unlacing the corsets of,” Carl clicks his tongue, but he’s got a playful look in his eyes, even as he reaches out to brace his hand against the wall next to the mirror.

“Not always so different,” Ezekiel says with a smirk. “Try to stay up straight for me, lad. Don’t want it tightened oddly against your ribs. You should be able to breathe just fine in this, so tell me if you can’t, or if anything hurts, or is uncomfortable.”

“The last time I wore one of these was for a stage play,” Carl mumbles, straightening up but still feeling a bit wobbly with the tightening. “Theater is not my forte I assure you, but my mother was convinced I needed to attempt something to do with literature.”

Ezekiel’s fingers are deft and practiced as he pulls the strings, starting at the top and moving down. “She was trying to give you some culture, eh? What part did you play that required a corset?”

“Just some background lady because for some god forsaken reason women weren’t allowed to be in the theater,” Carl huffs. He’s still confused by that. There were women in the production that Negan took him to, and it was nice enough. “I was very young. It was a few months before I was shot.”

“I see, I see. I have heard of places that bar the female form from the stage. Seems to also be the same places that do not look kindly on same gender relationships.” Ezekiel’s eyes flick up to the mirror for a moment before back down to his hands where he tugs at the laces near Carl’s waist. “Which doesn’t make a lick of sense to me. You put only beautiful men on the stage and not expect other men to lust after them? Utter posh.”

Carl snorts softly, nodding his agreement. “I assure you I didn’t feel very beautiful. They had me in this itchy wig, and my mother apparently did not know they were going to have me play the part of a woman. She said she never wanted me in a play again, and that suited me just fine.”

Laughing loudly, Ezekiel has to brace himself with a hand on Carl’s hip while his shoulders shake. “I love that! Not that you were itchy, but that your mother got her plans thrown back in her face and you got out of theatre. A wonderful story, dear boy.” He composes himself to finish off the laces, tying them securely. Looking up into the mirror, he grins at Carl. “Or should I say, my dear lass? Would you prefer to be a princess tonight?”

Heat licks up Carl’s cheeks at the idea, and he steps away from the man to grab the underdress. “I highly doubt anyone would mistake me for a princess, your majesty.”

“I don’t see why they shouldn’t. You already look beautiful, darling, and only going to become more so.” Ezekiel follows, holding his hands out to help in whatever way Carl needs. “Plus, I would be very honored to have you on my arm as we enter. As my prince or princess.”

“It’s no wonder you and Negan get along so well,” Carl observes, handing over the under dress so that the king can help him shimmy it on over his corset and petticoat. “You both are far too adept at flattery.”

Ezekiel chuckles, gathering the fabric to make it easier to work it onto Carl. “Yes, well. One needs a command over words when one wants to be charge of something, aye? Whether that be a boat or a kingdom.” He adjusts the underdress over the back of the petticoat, making sure the fabric lays flat. “Plus, it’s fun.”

“You guys can stick with that,” Carl says, patting the man softly on the arm as he turns back to grab the overdress. “I’ll stick with disembowelment. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet.”

Ezekiel laughs again. “Ah, I do love that about you, lad. Blood thirsty at every moment. I saw that dagger on your thigh. If you have to whip that out, you’ll have your lovers flustered as much as your enemies.”

“Yes, well, you can’t expect me to wear only two weapons,” the boy says good naturedly glancing at his usual sword belt leaning against the mirror as he turns to hand the dress over to Ezekiel. “But for your benefit, your majesty, I hope I won’t have to use any tonight.”

“I hope not either! This is supposed to be a happy event. No fighting allowed.” Ezekiel tuts good naturedly, taking the dress and gathering it the way he did the underdress before he slips it on over Carl’s head.

Carl wiggles a little, helping the man to situate the overdress correctly. When he puts his arms down, he has to fix the hem of the underdress so it doesn’t stick up above the off-shoulder neckline of the overdress. He does so as he turns for Ezekiel to start doing up the back. “Thank you for offering this by the way. I loved this dress so much when I saw it that I was terribly disappointed I’d never get to wear it.”

“Of course. It’s my pleasure. I like seeing my friends happy,” Ezekiel says as he begins his job tightening the strings at the back again. “And any excuse for a party is good enough for me. I am glad this dress found its way to your room. You can keep it after if you’d like, though I’m unsure where you would wear it aboard a pirate ship.”

Carl hums, petting over the golden embroidery on the red bodice. “No, best it stay here where it’s less likely to be damaged. I appreciate the offer though, your highness.”

“Of course. I’ll keep it safe for you.” Ezekiel chuckles, finishing up the laces and tying them in a strong bow. He gives Carl’s hip a pat when he’s done and gestures to the mirror. “I assume you brought some jewelry to wear as well? Your décolletage would be the perfect place for adornment.”

“Swiped some pearls in Italy,” Carl confirms with a nod, stepping over to his bag to pull out the long strings of pearls to loop around his neck and wrist. He begins wrapping the first strand around his neck, knowing it will be easier to latch on his own.

“Oh, how beautiful,” Ezekiel says, plucking up one of the strands to examine them. Something shines in his eyes that’s familiar to Carl, a same look he’s seen in Laura’s. Something that makes the king’s swaths of opulent fabrics and clothes and jewels make more sense. “These are of exquisite quality. You pick fine pieces.”

Carl extends his wrist to the man after clasping his necklace. “I believe the two of us are alike in that way, your majesty.”

Ezekiel chuckles and it’s a little darker than his usual. He sends a wink to Carl as he wraps the pearls around his wrist and secures them. “Perhaps we are, dear.” Taking Carl’s hand, Ezekiel raises it to his lips to drop the softest of kisses of Carl’s knuckles.

Flushing, Carl presses his lips together to fight down a smile. “You know if I wasn’t so taken with those two, I might ask for a demonstration of those corset divesting skills of yours,” the boy jokes before he can stop himself.

“If I wasn’t so sure that Negan would run me through with his sword if I did, I might’ve taken you up on that offer,” Ezekiel says with a grin, giving Carl’s hand a little squeeze.

Carl’s ears burn at the insinuation and he squeezes Ezekiel’s hand before turning to collect his sword belt. He shifts it, unwrapping it from the scabbard of his rapier to cinch it around his thinned waist. It helps him get his head on a little straighter.

Reaching up, the boy removes the bandana he’d put on before, fixing his hair over his shoulder how Negan first had it. “I should have stolen some kind of headpiece but the gold rings and chains do nicely.”

“Now, now. Who do you take me for? A king who does not have a collection of crowns?” Ezekiel snorts and steps over to a nearby dresser. He pulls open a drawer and reveals a selection of crowns and tiaras of different metals and gemstones. “There’s more in the other drawer as well. Take your pick, and I can bestow upon you the title of prince as I place it upon your head.”

“I don’t know, maybe I liked princess more,” Carl quips lightly, stepping over to peek around Ezekiel’s arm. “Anything with gold and pearls or gold and rubies?”

“Course.” Ezekiel plucks up a few options, laying them out on the dresser shelf for Carl to pick from. “Would you rather something that sits on top of your head or something to adorn your forehead?”

“Well Negan did pull my hair out of my face, so why not something for my forehead?” Carl reaches for the coat he discarded earlier when he came in to get ready. “I think I have some wax or something I can use to make sure it sits right.”

Ezekiel puts back the crowns he’s picked out, choosing another circlet to add to the options. “One of these should work perfect for you, whether you’d like to be a prince or princess.”

“I’ll trust your judgement,” Carl says distractedly, pulling a small stick of clear wax from one of the many pockets in his coat. He reaches up to one of the wall sconces, holding the end next to the flame.

“My judgement on the accessory or your title?” Ezekiel asks with a smile, choosing a golden circlet with rubies lining the element swirls of metal.

“Both sounds good to me,” the boy answers, lowering the wax away from the flame so it can cool enough to actually press to his skin and use as a sticking agent.

Humming, Ezekiel steps closer, holding the circlet up to Carl and squinting like he’s trying to see if it matches well. “This one suites you, my beautiful, radiant, ethereal, adventurous, bloodthirsty little prince.”

“Flattery,” Carl laughs softly, proffering the wax stick in the kings direction. “Crown me, my king?”

“Of course.” Ezekiel applies the wax before lowering the circlet carefully over Carl’s head. He tucks it gently into Carl’s hair and makes sure the wax keeps it stable against his forehead before letting go. “Perfect fit.”

Taking Carl’s hand, Ezekiel tugs him gently over and spins him to face the mirror so he can see the full look. “You’re dazzling, my prince. Your lovers won’t know what to do with themselves.”

“It’s certainly the prettiest I’ve ever felt,” Carl admits softly, looking over his form in the mirror. Privately, Carl thinks amused that Negan will love how he looks right up until he encounters how complicated it will be to undress him.

“Good.” Smiling, Ezekiel gives Carl’s shoulder a squeeze and gazes at him just a moment longer before turning away. “Now, it’s my turn to get ready!”

 

~

 

They come to stand before two huge ornate wooden doors, where they can hear music and voices slipping through the cracks. The two guards posted eye up their king and Carl, taking them both in with awe, and are prepared to open the doors at command.

“You are sure you want to come in with me, my prince? I can sneak you in through a side door if you think all eyes on you will make you uncomfortable,” Ezekiel asks, resting his hand over Carl’s that’s looped through his arm.

Carl takes a breath, steadying himself. “As uncomfortable as it might make me… well, call me crazy, but I want to see how they react.”

“That’s the spirit. That’s why I do half the stuff I do.” Ezekiel grins ands winks down at Carl before looking towards the doors again. “Alright, chin up, back straight.” He lifts himself up, taking a deep breath, his regal coat of fur expanding along his shoulders. He motions to the guards, one of whom nods and cracks the door open to whisper to someone within.

As the music and voices from inside suddenly die down, Shiva appears, chuffing softly as she rubs against Ezekiel’s leg before moving to bump her head against Carl’s hand. “Oh ho? I get a prince and a princess to walk me in. How wonderful.”

Carl visibly relaxes at the touch of the tiger, curling his ringed fingers in her fur behind her ears to give her a little scratch. “Just, don’t let me go until I’m close enough to them… alright?”

“I won’t, dear. Don’t worry. No one else will get their hands on you.”

Shiva chuffs again as if to say that if anyone dared try, she’d bite their hands off. She takes her place on Carl’s free side, facing the doors as the guard outside gets the signal and taps the ground twice with his staff. The doors open slowly as Ezekiel begins to walk them forward.

“Presenting, His Royal Majesty, King Ezekiel, accompanied by His Highness, Prince Carl, and the Lady Shiva.”

Carl keeps pace with his friends, head held high but eye on the swivel for his lovers. He hated social gatherings like this in his old life, but this is different. There’s a level of comfort and happiness in him that he didn’t have before.

They enter onto a raised balcony and look over the crowd of guests. Golds and silvers gleam in the light of lanterns and candles in chandeliers, rich brocades and animal masks scattered amongst them.

Ezekiel waves down at everyone with a dazzling smile on his face, bringing Carl with him to the railing. There’s a soft round of applause as the people gaze up at their king, but it grows in enthusiasm when Shiva puts her front paws up on the rail and lets out a magnificent roar.

“Always after the attention she is,” Ezekiel mutters to Carl with a laugh.

“Better her than me,” Carl murmurs back, hand a bit tighter on Ezekiel’s arm. There’s more people than he imagined, that’s for sure.

Ezekiel pats Carl’s hand and leads them to the stairs, Shiva following after. The band starts up again with a slower song as they descend. As Carl’s heels touch the floor, people part to clear a path to the middle of the room nodding and waving and smiling at the Royal trio. Shiva soaks up the attention and breaks away to make rounds through the crowd.

“I saw your lovers,” Ezekiel says as they reach the center, turning and bowing slightly to Carl, taking one of his hands and resting the other on Carl’s waist. The song comes to an end and a gentle waltz begins that Ezekiel leads Carl through easily. “Look to your right, towards the food table.”

Comforted by the fact that they’re on his seeing side, Carl turns his head to the right and bit. Even having helped to pick their clothes and being used to them wearing reds and blacks, the boy is unsurprised at feeling a little breathless once seeing them. They’re wearing the cravat and scarf he gave them all those months ago, correctly and with a handsome flair.

His eye sweeps back up to the king and he smiles softly. “Let’s hope they aren’t terribly slighted by you getting my first dance, your grace.”

“Ask for forgiveness rather than permission, eh?” Ezekiel says with a bounce of his eyebrows. “Aye, but they know of the custom of the king getting the first dance, so I’m sure they already knew you would be my partner when I whisked you away this morning.”

Carl laughs softly. “Oh, we’ll get an earful from Negan either way, I’m sure. Keeping me away from them all day and then taking my first dance.”

Ezekiel snickers softly, spinning Carl in a graceful circle. “Worth it.”

As the song comes to an end, everyone claps while Ezekiel and Carl take their bows and then the floor is once again filled as the band strikes up a more jovial song. Taking care to keep his hand on Carl’s waist so he doesn’t lose him, Ezekiel smiles and excuses their way through the crowd to where Negan and Dwight are waiting patiently.

Carl sighs in relief as they get close to his lovers. Reaching out to them as they get within a distance that he can. “You don’t know how stressful that was, even with the king holding on to me.”

“As stressful as it was, you looked divine! Look divine! Oh, give us a spin, love,” Dwight says with a big smile, eyes raking over Carl’s form.

“God, do you ever. That dress was made for you, my dear.” Negan lets out a low whistle, reaching out to squeeze Carl’s hand.

Carl lifts their joined hands and does a little spin under their raised arms for Dwight. “I will say, the dress does make everything worth it.”

“I’ll say.” Negan smiles, bringing Carl’s hand in to kiss it. Dwight copies him on the opposite hand, and they both laugh softly.

“Well, seeing as how I’ve delivered the young prince safely to you gentlemen, I shall take my leave to mingle with the rest,” Ezekiel says with a nod, giving each person a touch to their shoulder. “If you need me, don’t hesitate to find me.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” the boy says softly, tipping his head down a little.

Once the king has absconded back into the crowd, Carl leans between the two to eye the food table they’ve been lingering near. “Have you sampled anything?”

“I’m looking at something I wanna sample,” Negan says, still tracing every line of Carl with his eyes. Dwight nudges him with his elbow.

“Negan has had a glass of the white wine and we’ve had a bit of the food,” he says, gesturing back. “It’s all very good, but when has the food here ever been bad?” He laughs softly.

Carl willfully ignores the lecherousness of his partner and reaches out for one of the small plates that seems full of these savory rolled treats. “Well, I’m famished, and I don’t know how the king isn’t. Give me just a moment to have a bite and a sip of something, and then we can do whatever you two like.”

“This isn’t the type of party to do whatever I want,” Negan says, dodging Dwight’s elbow. “But, yes, please eat, love. Then I think we’re owed a dance.”

“Sounds lovely,” Carl hums, swiping a glass of red to have with his little snack. “You know, before I came here I hated these types of soirées.”

“Oh?” Dwight hums, watching Carl eat and offering to hold his glass when he needs a free hand. “I’m sure the ones you were at were a bit more stuffy than this one.”

Carl takes the offer happily after a small sip of the wine. It’s just as lovely as anything else he’s had in these halls but rich enough that he definitely needs to eat some before finishing it.

“They were horribly boring and I was required to sweet talk far too many equally dull people, if that’s what you mean,” Carl answers after swallowing down what he’s pretty sure is some sort of meat-pie treat.

“Shouldn’t have that problem here. Everyone here now knows you as the prince, so if anything they’ll be sweet talking you.” Negan chuckles softly, stepping closer to Carl so he can wrap a loose arm around his waist. Looking out over the colorful crowd, he watches as people are occupied with dancing and laughing and drinking, a dull roar of noise just below the music.

Carl snorts softly. “Only for the night, and we both know I get more attention than I can handle from the two of you.”

“We try,” Negan says with a grin while Dwight rolls his eyes affectionately.

“I heard Ezekiel and Shiva give a performance later in the night,” he says, stealing a sip of Carl’s wine. “Don’t get too tired dancing so we can see it, eh?”

“How about, don’t drag me out of here before we can see it,” the boy says amusedly before popping his last bit of finger food into his mouth and discarding his plate. He wiggles his fingers a little towards his wine in askance.

Dwight passes it over and can’t resist reaching out to touch bits of Carl’s outfit while his fingers are close. The pearls, the circlet, the braid with woven jewelry. “Negan, dear, you really did an excellent job on his hair.”

“Thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself with a single strand was out of place.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Carl says, hiding his grin behind his wine. “But yes, thank you again for doing my hair, it’s spectacular.”

“You’re very welcome, pet. It was my pleasure.” Negan pecks Carl’s cheek with a satisfied smile.

“The day Negan isn’t dramatic is the day hell freezes over,” Dwight comments, running the tips of his fingers gently over the pearls at Carl’s neck.

Carl preens under the touch of his lovers, sipping at his dwindling glass of wine. “So, which of you fine gentleman is planning to ask me to dance first? Or are we going to attempt the three of us?”

“Do you have a preference?” Dwight asks, resting his hand down on the bared skin of Carl’s shoulder.

“Not particularly,” Carl admits, shivering slightly at the touch. Dwight touches him regularly, but never so much as Negan, and seldom at length when they aren’t in private.

“Let’s all go together then. We’ll figure something out,” Negan says with a chuckle, taking Carl’s empty glass and setting it off to the side on the table.

Carl tilts his head in thought. “It might work best with Dwight in the middle.”

“Oh?” Dwight looks between the other two, tugging gently on his cuff sleeves. “You sure?”

Negan smiles and moves to wrap his arm around Dwight’s waist, tugging him close and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Sounds good to me. A little Dwight sandwich. Mm.”

“Oh, don’t be crass,” Carl huffs fondly, stepping forward to grab each of their wrists and pull them towards the dance floor.

The two men smile as they’re dragged lovingly into the crowd, people making a little space for the prince and his lovers to fit and dance in. Negan grabs Dwight’s free hand and for a moment they’re a small circle, each connected to each other, turning clockwise in delight. The music is joyful and upbeat as they bounce gaily along to it.

Then, Negan lets go of Dwight again, shifting about behind him until Dwight is between him and Carl. Dwight shifts his hands to Carl’s waist as Negan reaches out to take Carl’s hands. He rests his chin on Dwight’s shoulder, grinning at Carl. “Couple’a cards we are. Look at us.”

“I think most people are,” Carl says, trying desperately not to pay attention to it and instead focus on his lovers. Dancing is something he’s done since he was a child, every iteration and every music type, so it isn’t too hard to adapt to three people.

He leads them smoothly around the floor, which comes as more a surprise than the three way dance as he’d expected one of them to lead going into this. “When I gave the idea, I didn’t expect it to be so… graceful.”

“We're very in sync with each other, I think,” Dwight says, enjoying the push and pull he’s feeling from being between his two lovers.

“Aye. Can almost think we like each other, eh?” Negan says with a laugh, squeezing Carl’s hands. “We’ve grown very close over these last few months. Can you even believe you once tried to kill me, love?”

“I still can if you like,” Carl says sweetly, fluttering the lashes of his good eye at the man over Dwight’s shoulder.

Negan growls hungrily, tugging Carl closer to Dwight. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, pet.”

“Please don’t threaten him when I’m between you,” Dwight huffs, squeezing Carl’s waist and trying so hard not to step on his toes.

A shot of warmth dances up Carl’s spine. He tilts his head up, kissing lightly at the curve of Dwight’s jaw. “As you wish, dear heart.”

Pink dusts Dwight’s cheeks, especially when Negan copies Carl on the other side. He whines softly and shifts his shoulders up. “Thank you, loves, but not when there’s so many eyes on us, please?”

Carl hums, putting a bit of distance between them as they dance. He can tell this song is almost up anyhow. He doesn’t like all of the eyes on him, but he likes even less the idea that Dwight is uncomfortable.

When the song ends, everyone claps politely just before the next begins. “Another dance?” Negan asks, letting go of one of Carl’s hands so he can come around and face the two. “Or shall we indulge in some more food or wine? It’s a party, so we can do whatever!”

“We’re pirates,” Carl responds fondly. “We can always do whatever we want.”

“Aye, that we are, and that we can.” Negan grins, a spark in his eye that promises future mischief. He puts a hand into the center of their circle. “To piracy, and doing whatever we want. To treasure and adventure.”

“To loving who you want,” Dwight says, placing his hand atop Negan’s. “And shedding society’s expectations. To finding family amongst strangers.”

Carl can’t hold back his incredibly fond smile as he puts his ringed hand overtop theirs. “To the freedom of the open world, and whatever adventure comes next.”

“Hear hear!”

Their hands raise as the band strikes up the next song, covering their laughter with a jovial tune as the party continues.

 

 

 

 

Notes:

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