Gretel (_gretel) wrote in helladjacent, @ 2017-06-10 17:19:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !jumps: the good place, character: gretel, character: negan |
Who: Gretel and Negan
What: Discussing plans
Where: Negan’s Room
When: Day 5, evening
Rating: NSFW
Status: Complete
In the years she’d been trapped in the hotel, Gretel had known her share of ideas- good and bad. Plans, good and bad. Intentions- good… and bad. She knew how hard her heart pounded when she thought about those past decisions, regardless of how they ended. Some turned out for the best, most did not. Many ended in death- many more, much worse.
Hansel- the Hansel that arrived with her at the hotel, before he disappeared and came back- would always be the first to tell her the two of them never learned. They never gave up their stupid ideas, regardless of how many never ended the way they intended, because the root of those decisions was buried so deep in who they were not even the hotel could extract it or change them. They dove into fire to protect those around them, to protect each other. To make things right, if ever they could.
Now, she had that same feeling, except without her brother, and in the biggest twist of irony she’d ever known in her long, complicated life, the plan was supposed to end with the hotel continuing on as ‘normal’. As she stood in front of Negan’s bedroom door, Gretel swallowed thinly, forcing herself to realize that truth in terrible clarity. She had to make sure she was right with it, before moving on.
A moment later, she knocked on his door.
Negan had resigned himself to his silence for the week. After the first couple of days, he got used to it, for the most part. The most frustrating thing was not wanting to leave his room, because he didn’t want to deal with having to explain why he couldn’t talk, but he took enough books from the library to keep himself entertained. When he wanted to leave his room, but he didn’t want anyone to bother him, he borrowed Vlad from Judith.
And, more often than not when he was in his room, so was Gretel, and it became a little more bearable. It still wore on him during the week; he was used to it, but he was tired of it, and it showed. The time couldn’t go by quickly enough until the clock struck and time reset itself.
When Gretel knocked, he didn’t feel the need to check who it was. Usually, it was only either Gretel or Judith, and by now, he had both of their knocks memorized. He gave her a tired smile when she opened the door, and leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Before she even said anything, he could tell there was something on her mind, and he was raising an eyebrow when he stepped back to let her inside.
When he kissed her, Gretel thoughtlessly framed the side of his face with her palm, the gentle stroke of her thumb on his jaw as much a comforting gesture for her as it was for him. Though she never had a problem with the moments of silence between them before- the special circumstances that surrounded them this week added a serrated edge that was pressing on her already frayed nerves; it was the same for him- any fool could see that, even if they didn’t know him the way she did.
In short, it wasn’t helping anyone, and the way he lost his voice happened to be a big part of her reasoning for plans already in place.
“I have to tell you something-” she started- no sense in wasting time with small talk- even when he could talk, that wasn’t exactly part of what they shared. Gretel had never been good at it anyway- not ever. After pulling him to the sitting table and chairs to sit down, she gestured toward the back pocket he always kept his PDA in. “Use the keypad to talk to me- I think it’ll be easier.” Faster, anyway- and he seemed to be running out of reachable space to write on his walls.
“I’ve made plans to do something I asked you not to do… I can tell you all the reasons why if you want to go there- but if you ask me not to do it, I won’t-” she added, meaning it.
Negan tugged his PDA out of his back pocket before he sat down, turning it on and nodding. He’d been using it more and more frequently during the week, anyway.
She didn’t need to tell him what her plans were for him to know what she was planning to do. He frowned slightly, brow furrowed as he watched her expression. He knew she wasn’t lying, and that she wouldn’t do it if he didn’t want her to, but he couldn’t just say ‘no’ outright. Sighing, he typed out a message on his PDA, then turned it to her.
You’re going to go mess with Michael.
What are you planning?
She read the words, but felt like she already knew he’d picked up on the idea in the first place. Negan was as much a planner as she was, smart and cunning, and observant, but there was no way he knew the extent of her plans with Dean- or how many ways it could go bad.
She nodded, showing he was on the right track, then brought her gaze to his face. Hers was still raw and honest, but somewhat hardened in the same right. Nearly the same gaze she had when they first met.
“Not mess with him,” she began. “I plan to kill him.”
Negan’s expression stayed about the same, save for a slight twitch of one eyebrow. He sighed, and nodded slowly. He wasn’t that surprised. From the collective information they had about Michael, Negan knew that, regardless of whether or not he’d been created by the hotel, he was far from a good presence in it. He pretended to be benevolent, but he was exactly the opposite.
And how are you planning to do that?
Gretel knew what his next question was before he’d even turned the PDA around to type it out. She gave him a thoughtful look, then exhaled through her nose and looked down on her person- in her usual eighteenth century bodice and linen shirt, both hiding various weapons, many of which he’d seen before. The one she produced from a hook on her belt was new.
She held a twisted tangle of willow branches tied with fiber that could have been human hair, tipped by a hunk of raw rose quartz. “This was my mother’s-” she told him quietly, as if she were afraid the walls might hear. If they could, just like if the PDA’s were spying on them, she and Dean were already fucked, but she saw it as the last resort. “It showed up on my bedstand the first day of this week… Michael doesn’t seem to know anything about it. Dean- a tool of his trade showed up, too; a gun that can supposedly kill anything with one shot. Presumably, Michael doesn’t know about that either. The plan is… I bind him from defending himself-” She met his eyes again, pointedly. “-and Dean shoots him dead.”
Negan eyed the wand with curiosity, his hardened expression easing just slightly as he looked it up and down, then looked at her again. He was surprised he hadn’t heard about it earlier, but then again, he hadn’t told her about his wallet and wedding ring, either. Besides, that wasn’t the pressing matter at hand; he was more focused on the plan to kill Michael.
He didn’t know what to think about it. His experience with magic and the supernatural was limited, at best. Severely limited. And Michael seemed like something that none of them had really dealt with before. He was quiet, watching her face while he thought it over. Finally, he turned his eyes to his PDA again.
He stopped me from killing him. Is your magic strong enough to get past that?
Gretel’s jaw tightened lightly, but she’d expected that question as well.
“I don’t know-” she said, shaking her head. “I won’t know, until the moment it happens… but I believe there’s a chance. Michael… he knew it was coming with you.” He’d carried the bat in with him after all- she knew exactly how he brandished it, even when he didn’t intend to use it. This was completely different. “He also doesn’t seem to understand that I’m not human. This and other small things he doesn’t know show he’s got weaknesses.”
Negan was frowning again. He still didn’t like it, but he knew that if Gretel hadn’t made him promise not to go see Michael again, he would have marched right down there. Now that he’d done something that affected her on a personal level, she wanted to do the same. He couldn’t blame her.
And he sort of really liked it. Not that she needed to know that right now.
You ready for what might happen if it doesn’t work?
Her eyes slid from the words on the PDA to his face, and without too much hesitation, she nodded.
“I am-” she said; the gravity in her voice belied all of the five or six years she’d spent surviving (and not surviving) in this place. It wasn’t a choice or consequence she took lightly- not just for herself. She was also considering the impact it would have on her brother- and on him. “That’s why we’ve planned to do this the day after next… the last day.” That word held more weight than with a single meaning, and she knew Negan would understand exactly what she meant.
Negan understood her without her having to explain herself, and he didn’t like it anymore than he did before. He took a deep breath in, and sighed it out slowly through his nose, debating whether or not he actually wanted to stop her. He knew why she was doing it, because he wanted to do it, too. He knew why she wasn’t afraid of dying, because he wasn’t, either.
Now, more than ever, he wished he had his voice again.
Do it early in the day so you can appreciate your hard work if it works.
And if it doesn’t, you better come back, or I’m gonna be pissed.
The length of his contemplative silence wasn’t long, but she could tell by the glint in his eyes that it was heavy, and complex. But the words that finally followed unexpectedly made the corners of her mouth twitch upward. A laugh that had no sound and was just as complicated as the look in his gaze puffed air through her nose, and pulled her smile a little more toward one cheek.
Without saying another word, she was up from her chair and in her usual more preferable place on his lap, each thigh on the outside of his hips.
“With everything I possibly can-” she told him, low and just for him, with her hands on his face and her brow resting against his. “I promise.”
Negan’s arms were around Gretel’s middle as soon as she was on his lap, squeezing her gently and tilting his head to kiss her. He knew she would come back. Even though he couldn’t really know, he knew she would. But he couldn’t help the very real fear of her dying, regardless of whether or not she was coming back. The easiest thing to do would be not to think about it. That was why waiting until the last day was a good idea- they could all, for the most part, try to pretend it didn’t happen. They could handle it for less than a day.
After a moment, he pulled back so he could type another message to her, holding a finger up between them before he turned the screen to her, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
I know you’re gonna kill him, anyway. You’re the baddest witch I know.
While she took the second to read the words scrolled across the screen, her hand found the back of his hair and toyed with it for no other reason than the need to touch- just perfect, thoughtless affection. The movement of her fingertips paused as her smirk deepened and turned towards his face. The thought that she might be the only witch he knew flashed in her mind briefly, but even if that were true, it didn’t matter. The sentiment was enough.
“That’s the idea,” she whispered, putting all the heaviness of the impending situation into a light tone, then tilted his chin up with a curved finger so she could kiss him, slow and meaningful- like she was remembering every breath, every brush of his tongue or hand.
Negan kissed her back with a sigh, setting his PDA down on the table so he could wrap both arms around her again. He could feel the way she kissed him, and he knew exactly why. He kissed her back just the same way, sliding his hands up the back of her shirt and pulling her closer.
They still had a couple of days. And for the moment, at least, they still had each other, even if he didn’t have his voice. He didn’t need it. He slid his hands up and down along her back, tilting his head so he could slowly kiss over her jaw and her neck, taking his time while he still could.
Facing a certain level of mortality- even in this place- had put a lot of things into perspective for her in the last week. Whether they would continue on in this place after Michael or not, neither of them could know until it actually happened, but the threat of it was enough to filter out the things that didn’t matter from what did. The plan she formed with Dean had replaced the sting haunting the back of her thoughts since her second conversation with Michael, maybe temporarily, but for now that was good enough.
As they kissed, she let her hands slide down his chest to the leather strings that held her bodice together at the front. She pulled them apart, rolling her shoulders out from the heavy leather, breaking the kiss only because her lungs burned for air and other much more potent reasons- but she still stayed close, their noses brushing, words without voice brushing his lips.
Negan helped her out of her bodice, his hands smoothing over shoulders and arms before he tossed it aside. With it off, he slid his hands further underneath her shirt, running up from her waist to her ribs, and back down, as he breathed against her lips. Shifting forward in his seat, he shifted his hands to under Gretel’s thighs while she wrapped her legs around his middle, standing up and taking her along with him.
Even if he had his voice, he wouldn’t have been saying much. He was too focused on her, the way she was on him, the way her fingers clung a little bit more desperately. The trip to the bed was short, and when he set her down, he stayed where he was for a moment so he could kiss her again, deep and full of so many things he couldn’t say.
There were so many things she could say, she wanted to say, but this has always been the truest, purest communication between them. It wasn't frantic, or even carnal the way it had been so many times before: this felt like the truer version of everything that came before it, like it had all been leading to this moment.
Her hands moved on their own once they were on his bed and she no longer had to cling to his shoulders; they found his face as he kissed her, as they liked to do, until the need to feel as much of his skin against hers became too great. The kiss broke only so she could pull off his shirt and dropped it off the bed, followed by her own, with all its cumbersome material.
While he was sitting up to rid her of her shirt, he rid her of her boots, as well, yanking them off with a silent half-breath of a laugh as he tossed them aside, and then came back down to her. He wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her in so their bare skin was pressing together, warm and close. He could have even been content to stay like that for a while, feeling her breathe against him and shift underneath his hands.
When he did reach down to hook his fingers into the waistband of her pants, it was with slow familiarity and a smirk as he sat back to remove them from her legs. He settled between her bare legs again, tracing his hands up the sides of them, rubbing over her muscles before they settled at her hips. Leaning down, he kissed over her neck and her collarbone, sighing against her skin like he would have been humming or saying something, but no words or sounds came. The slow press of his lips and graze of his teeth said enough.
His voice may not have been there, but Gretel could still hear it in her head- she knew the sound of it when he breathed on her neck like that, just like she knew the path his hands would take, if not exactly, in the whole.
The hot trail left by his mouth tingling with the best little chill when he breathed, sending a chill down her spin that put her voice in her breath. She slipped her hands between them, down to the brass button and zipper, and dipped her chin to catch him in another deep, slow kiss as she undid them.
Negan kissed her back, his breath heavier against her lips as he brought one hand up to tangle into her hair, just so he could feel her closer. It was a bit of a trick of coordination to get undressed the rest of the way, but once there was nothing left between them, he wouldn’t let go of her. Not for a moment.
His hands were always on her, either on hers, or in her hair, on the sides of her neck, curling against her stomach or hip bones. He didn’t make a sound, but he caught every other one of hers, shivering when she moaned in his ear and kissing her everywhere when she sounded like she forgot how to breathe.
There was a sense of finality that they hadn’t put to words, but he could feel it in her fingers, and hear it in every sound. Maybe she was going to die. Maybe they were going to be sent back to wherever they came from. Maybe they’d be rid of their annoying new host and live happily ever after, or as happily as they could be. But the maybes were important; the only things that mattered to him were Gretel’s voice when she said his name and how tightly she held his hand when their fingers were laced together, pressed into the mattress.
Despite how every other thought in her head was how she wanted it to last forever- when there were thoughts, not just a tide of emotion and euphoria- eventually exhaustion won out. In the white static bliss and tangled sheets, Gretel kept her mind as focused on the man with his head on the flat of her stomach as her fingertips were on his thick, damp hair. The weight of his arm across her hips and the warmth from their twined legs was enough to not need the blanket. Not yet. For now, he was enough.
She watched him with content, sleepy eyes and felt words- important words- pulling at the back of her tongue, like tart cherries, but she slowly rolled her lips and sighed instead. Regardless of what would happen when the time came, she wouldn’t speak when he didn’t have the choice to speak back. Besides, what they had now was more real than words; it was how things had always been with them, after all.