Sarah stares in the mirror, pushing back a strand of hair from her temple and tucking it behind her ear.

Negan should be back soon, and she was more than eager to see him, what with it being her birthday. At least she thinks it is. She'd marked the days down on a tatty calendar she'd found whilst out on a run, but at some point they'd lost track, losing roughly a few weeks, maybe up to a month. It was hot though, and that meant summer, which her birthday was right at the beginning of.

Unable to wait any longer, she hops off her single bed, and heads through the door, making her way down the corridor, her boots echoing on the cold, hard floor.

She rounds the corner, Negan's headquarters in sight, her shoulders shaking with excitement.

The double doors to his parlour are open wide, and she grimaces a little at the sight of his wives.

"He's not here," Sherry says, sitting at the bar with a glass in her hand.

Sarah stops, her hand pressed against his bedroom door. "I thought he was supposed to be back by now?"

Sherry shrugs her shoulders, taking a sip from the glass. "Probably come across some trouble out there.. but then, doesn't he always?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sarah frowns.

Sherry laughs, placing down her glass. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Sarah asks, quickly growing irritated.

"Negan is the trouble out there."

"And yet you're quick to accept his hand outs, so why don't you just piss off, Sherry?" Sarah sneers.

"I work for those hand outs," Sherry says.

"If you can call opening your legs work, then sure." Sarah heads out the parlour before Sherry can say another word, refusing to let her get under her skin.

But as she sits on her bed, staring once again into the mirror, she realises Sherry already has gotten under her skin.

Sarah disliked Negan's wives in general, but Sherry, she hated Sherry, with a passion.

As she rests her head against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, she thinks of the first time she laid eyes on Negan.

She'd been surrounded by the dead, hadn't had a scrap of food in days, and was dangerously weak.

He'd looked down at her as if she were the most pitiful thing he'd ever seen, Lucille hanging over his shoulder as he'd knelt down in front of her.

"Well, shit. You look like you haven't seen a friendly face or a good fucking meal in a long time, sweetheart," Negan had said.

And as she'd gazed up into his hazel eyes, Sarah would swear she fell in love, right there in that moment.

He'd taken her back to the Sanctuary, fed her, clothed her, and given her a bed to sleep in. Negan was God to her, and for the following year, she'd done her best to prove herself worthy of being one of his men, working her way up the ranks until one day he'd asked her what he only asked his best soldiers.

"Who are you?"

Sarah had knelt down in front of him, her eyes not leaving his. "I'm Negan."

So she'd earnt herself all the privileges of being one of his top men, her own room, and the ability to take whatever she wanted. But what she really wanted, was him.

Sarah flicks on the lamp, her eyes heavy as the room begins to darken.

Just as she contemplates heading out to look for him, she hears the unmistakable sound of his boots pounding down the corridor.

Her heart beating a little faster, she jumps off the bed, checking herself briefly in the mirror before she heads out the door.

Negan had barely closed his bedroom door before she knocks upon it.

"Fuck!" Negan growls from within, and Sarah wonders if perhaps she should have given him at least five minutes.

Negan opens the door, his face stern. He softens a little, offering her a weak smile. "What's up, sweetheart?"

"Can i come in?"

Negan runs a hand through his hair. "Sure." He steps aside, gesturing towards the leather sofa. Sarah takes a seat, looking up at Negan with a smile. "Well, you sure as shit look happy. You got some good news you wanna share? I could do with some good fucking news for a change."

"It's my birthday." Sarah smiles.

"Well, happy fucking birthday, my apologies for not getting you a card or present, i've been a bit fucking busy," Negan smiles as he sits down beside her. He raises an eyebrow, confused by the way she's smiling at him, as if her birthday is some kind of gift that she's offering to him. "Did you come here just to tell me it's your birthday? Because i have shit to do, sweetheart."

Her face drops a little. "You remember what you said?"

"I say a lot of things, sweetheart, so not fucking really," Negan smirks. "But go on, what did i say?"

Sarah glances at him uncomfortably. "You.. you said.. that when i turned eighteen.. we could.. you know. Do stuff."

Negan furrows his brows. "Stuff?"

"Don't do that, you know exactly what i'm talking about."

Negan lets out a deep breath. "Jesus, Sarah. You don't waste no fucking time, do you? What's the fucking rush?"

"But you said-"

Negan holds up a hand. "I know what i fucking said. But shit, Sarah, you've been eighteen not even a fucking day. Actually, for all we fucking know, it might not even be your birthday."

"I've been marking days off on my calendar."

Negan stares at her. "Well that's not even a little bit creepy or obsessive," he says sarcastically.

"So what do you say?" Sarah smiles, shuffling towards him.

Negan gets up off the sofa, glancing at her uncomfortably. "I say, fuck no."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's fucking weird, okay?"

"Do you not like me?" Sarah asks, her eyes beginning to tear up.

Negan tilts his head. "Don't be fucking ridiculous, you're fucking stunning. But five minutes ago, you were seventeen.. it kinda makes me feel like a dirty old man. I'm.. i'm not saying no, i'm just saying.. you know, give it more than a fucking day or two."

Sarah faces the window, her cheeks going red. "I'm sorry."

Negan let's out a deep breath. "Don't be. It's very fucking flattering, but you need to just chill the fuck out a little. There's no rush, sweetheart."

She turns to him, biting back tears. "I could die tomorrow."

"I very much fucking doubt that. You're not like you were when you came in, you know how to handle yourself out there. You're one of my best soldiers for Christ's sake."

Sarah smiles, rising to her feet and stepping closer to him. "Do i at least get a birthday kiss?" Negan leans forward, kissing her cheek chastely, and though it wasn't what she'd been hoping for, it sends a shiver down her spine just the same, feeling his beard prickle her skin, his lips soft and warm against her cheek. She gazes up at him with a smile. "That wasn't really the kinda kiss i was going for."

"Tough," Negan says firmly. "Now, go get yourself an early night, i'm gonna need you fresh as a fucking daisy in the morning."

"We going out on a run?"

"No, we're heading to Hilltop. They haven't been delivering on their part of our deal." Sarah's eyes light up a little, and Negan doesn't fail to notice. "You get a kick out of it?"

"Out of what?"

"Putting people in their place?"

Sarah shrugs. "I just don't like when people take liberties, that's all."

"Hmm," Negan steps closer to the window, looking down at the dead on the fence. "Well, they'll learn the hard way."

Sarah watches him, in awe of every single move he makes. She wants him, so bad it hurts. The thought of going back to her room alone makes her feel sickly, knowing most likely one of his wives will be warming his bed tonight.

"You sure you don't want me to stay?" She offers, her tone needy and full of want.

Negan turns to her, his eyes suddenly dark, as if he's gazing down at some delicious treat being offered to him. He turns back to the window, clenching his jaw. "Goodnight, Sarah."

She stares at the back of his head, disappointment washing over her. "Goodnight, Negan."

Sarah digs through her closet, kneeling down as she pulls out a tatty, brown box. She takes out a faded, white t-shirt, throwing it on her naked frame before jumping into bed.

Sarah's not sure if Negan has noticed it's missing, but then he's never noticed the other things she's taken. She's built up quite a collection, even bagging herself one of his red scarves.

She lays down her head, running her hands over his t-shirt. His scent still lingers slightly, musk and leather, of course, she'd been crafty enough to sneak a bottle of his favourite cologne, which she used whenever his smell began to fade.

Her eyes well up a little, butterflies filling her stomach as she caresses her cheek in the same place he kissed her. She'd come so close, painfully so. Sarah knows she was stupid to get her hopes up, to assume that he'd want her so soon after her just turning eighteen, but God, she wanted him, and patience wasn't her forte.

Impress him tomorrow, make him look at you differently. Right now, you're just a stupid kid to him, you need to make him see that you're a woman now, she thinks.

Sarah turns on her side, facing the closet. Her eyes grow heavy, sleep taking her swiftly.