Chapter Text
Negan’s eyes scanned the sickly theatrical stage, the presenter on a podium, announcing the prices of each slave with gusto, along with their history and what they were good for. This auction was mostly for labor, for farmhand slaves, so most were men with broad shoulders and defined features, the result of years of grueling manual labor.
He’d just been to a meeting with some of the local farmers upstairs to deal with logistics of local organic trade, and he’d done a double take when he’d seen a couple men who he’d just been bantering with upstairs go straight into one of the event halls.
He followed, checking it out in curiosity. His heart dropped when he’d entered and saw the slave auction, his respect for those farmers plummeting and he told himself to cut trade with them immediately.
All of the slaves were kneeling and had their eyes strictly on the floor. Their postures ranged from resigned and slightly slumped, yet back mostly straight, to rigid and ramrod straight. Despite their eyes on the floor, he could see the subtle hardened hatred in a couple of their eyes.
The buyers began to ascend the steps to the stage and began examining the slaves, crowding around them until he was unable to see the kneeling men. His eyes caught on the one man he could see, the one who none of the potential buyers had chosen to inspect.
His heart leapt when he noticed the man had raised his head, looking around in a daze, his mouth slack. Negan willed the man to put his head back down before somebody noticed his disobedience, but the man seemed out of it. Without thinking, Negan started walking quickly towards the stage from the back of the room.
Weaving through the chairs, he felt a surge of anger when he looked up and saw two men surrounding the slave, and the slave looked up at them in confusion, which could be cause for major repercussions. One of the men slapped the slave hard across the face, causing the slave to seemingly snap out of it, eyes dropping to the floor again.
“What gives you the right, to look at me?” The buyer seethed at him. The man turned to the other standing over the kneeling slave, whose breathing had begun to pick up. “I might just buy this one, just to show him his place,” he sneered. The other man beside him chortled a mean laugh. Looking like he wanted to shrink into himself, the timid fear and uncertainty in the captive man’s eyes made Negan pick up his pace.
The slave was pulled roughly by the collar strapped around his neck into a standing position. He obediently turned around when the man pulled hard on his shoulders, inspecting him.
The buyer gripped the slave’s curls and tugged harshly, pulling his head back. Negan became even more enraged at the way the slave was being treated like an object, and marched up the steps. He slapped the buyer’s hand away and shoved him back.
“Did you ever know how to be a decent fucking human being or have you forgotten? Now fuck off.”
The buyer scoffed at him. “Who do you think you are, exactly?” He jeered and turned to his friend, smiling in haughty disbelief. “I’m his new.. owner.” Negan tried not to cringe outwardly at his own words, knowing that he’s already coming across as an empathizer.
Known empathizers weren’t allowed to purchase slaves in Georgia, though filing for emancipation was possible in Canada as long as you had residency or property there, which was legally and federally recognised in the states. Negan had a small chalet in Vancouver he went to each summer and winter on vacation.
“You’re actually interested in this disobedient, pathetic little shit?” He sneered at Negan, eyes shifting to the kneeling man in front of him, who had his eyes pinned to the floor, shoulders tense.
Negan waited for the auctioneer’s assistants to come by, grimacing at the the rest of the slaves being herded off one by one for processing for their new owners or for the next event. He signed the papers, keeping the copies of files on the slave’s past, knowing he wouldn’t read them without the man’s consent.
He signed the invoice, the assistant giving him a glib smirk as she walked away. He waited until everyone was out of earshot before addressing the man kneeling before him. He tried to soften his voice. “Hey, look at me,” he murmured to the man.
Wary blue eyes flicked up to meet his gaze before quickly averting and coming back, the man clearly struggling to maintain eye contact but trying to obey. He’s expecting Negan to hurt him. Negan took pity on him.
“You don’t have to look at me if you don’t want to,” he kept his voice low and tone as light as possible. Negan watched the man’s eyes flit uncertainly between his and the ground, fearful and unsure. “I’m not playing mind games with you, you don’t have to.”
The naked man gave a slow near-imperceptible nod and resumed staring listlessly at the floor. Negan took in the rest of the man kneeling before him. His shoulders were broad, arms strong. He must’ve been used for manual labor. As Negan’s gaze landed on the man’s chest, he grimaced at the sight of the piercings there. Not just manual labor then. The slave was quite handsome, after all.
Negan ignored the undignified numbers on the paper labeling the man in front of him. “What’s your name?” Eyes rooted to the floor, the man simply replied, “Five Seven Seven Six B.” His voice croaked from disuse and he quietly cleared it. Negan shook his head. “No, your actual name. What do you call yourself?” Negan watched the slave’s breathing start to quicken with anxiety, blue eyes darting around the floor. “F-Five- Seven-”
“Alright, alright. You don’t have to answer now, just- c’mon. Come with me.” Negan cringed as he voiced his next words. “I’m buying you.” He watched the man’s shoulders curl inwards as he lifted from his knees. He walked down the steps to where the seating was, the slave following behind him docilely.
The feeling of ‘owning’ a human being was something he was so repulsed by, that by the time the event had fully cleared of people and assistants finishing up, Negan collapsed down heavily onto one of the awful plastic backed chairs as it scraped loudly on the wooden floor.
He immediately took out his phone and began rapidly dealing with all the crap that came with freeing a fucking owned human. He looked at the files he’d been given, ensuring to triple check everything and respecting the man’s right to privacy regarding his past.
“I’ve filed your papers for emancipation. You’re free.” An hour and a half. That was how long it took for him to change the man’s status from prisoner of abuse to free. The thought made his heart sink and he put his phone back in his pocket, turning to regard the man with newfound compassion.
He saw the doubt immediately furrow the man’s brows. There was no happiness, none of the joy he’d thought would be there. That wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. “Could I be allowed to speak, Master?”
“Christ, don’t ever call me that,” he snapped. The slave quickly looked away, a guilty expression on his face. Negan immediately apologized.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.” His voice softened. “It’s just… I don’t want you thinking of me like that. I don’t own you. You and I are equals, okay? The people back there, those fucking degenerates… they can’t even claim to be human. If I could afford it, I’d buy every last slave. But I can’t.” Those blue eyes looked to him, wary and unsure. God those eyes, Negan felt enraptured by them.
“Look, I’m sorry. This is a first for both of us.” Negan gave the papers in his hand a quick glance. “You’re Rick, right? Rick Grimes?” A haunted expression overcame the man’s face and Negan rushed to correct himself.
“Or not, you know, if you’d like a different name, you pick it and I’ll get you help with legally changing it, you can do that you know, I’ve heard it’s not too hard to do in Georgia… Homer Simpson even changed his to Max Power once..” His words became stilted as he trailed off his babbling, having had expected Rick to help him and cut him off. God, he had no idea how he’d navigate this situation.
Rick just stared at the floor, brows furrowed in confusion at the latter part off Negan’s nonsense. He glanced at Negan only to find him staring expectantly back. “Rick is fine, sorry. I just haven’t heard it in a long time,” he explained. “May I spe-,” his question was cut off quickly by Negan who tried to keep his frustration out of his tone. “If you’re going to ask me if you can speak, please don’t.” Rick gave a small nod and refused to continue talking, looking scolded.
Negan pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep exhale. “I didn’t mean don’t speak, I meant don’t ask me to. Christ, are you really going to make me burst into a No Doubt number at a fucking slave auction? C’mon. I’m getting you some clothes.”
Negan stripped himself of his jacket and tied it around the man’s waist for a modicum of modesty. As he leaned closer wrap it around Rick, he noticed the goosebumps along the man’s skin and the minute tremors the man seemed to be trying desperately to control. He touched Rick’s neck, recoiling from the freezing skin. Negan kicked himself, they’d turned off the heating once the event was over, and he’d only absently noticed as he did Rick’s paperwork.
“You’re fucking frozen, Rick,” he gently admonished. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He immediately regretted asking. “Never mind, don’t answer that.” The man looked dazed, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open as he stared into the distance.
They headed out to the parking lot, Negan thanking god he’d parked close to the entrance, grimacing at the sight of Rick’s bare feet padding along the rough ground. He unlocked his door and went to get in the driver’s side before realising Rick had awkwardly come to a stop in front of the car. He went around to the other side and opened the passenger door, guiding Rick inside with a with a hand on his back.
Once he got the man inside and settled, he returned to his own seat, immediately turning the heat on to warm up the man beside him, who was practically pressed against the door, angled away from Negan. Negan sighed and reached over to do the man’s seatbelt who recoiled from him for a second before shifting to allow him strap him in.
The tremors from the cold slowly ebbed away, though he still looked very pale. Negan reached behind to the back, grabbing the blanket he kept for his dog and paused, wishing to offer the man something better, but knew it was better than nothing. “Here.” He laid the blanket across Rick’s lap. “Sorry, it’s my dog Lucille’s blanket, I hope you don’t mind.”
He regarded Rick’s reaction who still had that lost, dazed expression on his face, before he croaked out a small “thank you”, and angled his head slightly towards Negan’s, seeming to build up courage to speak further
“Why me?” He asked, confusion written plainly on his face.
Negan deliberated his answer as he turned on the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, unsure of which direction to even go, but decided on heading back towards his farmhouse.
Negan cast him a sideways glance, keeping his eyes mostly on the road. “Because… I don’t know. When I saw you there, those men touching you… I fucking hated it.” He gently raised his hand, reaching over slowly and rested it in the juncture of Rick’s neck and shoulder, hoping to instill some camaraderie behind the gesture. He rubbed the slave’s skin softly and watched a light flush spread up his neck, glancing at him but his eyes remaining mostly on the road.
“Good, you’re warming up,” he nodded absentmindedly to himself, glad he could give the man the barest fucking level of comfort at least.
Negan looked at the leather collar wrapped around the man’s throat and wanted to tear the thing off. He hesitantly slid his hand up to touch it, halting when he realised he was too far into Rick’s personal space, leaning back but keeping his hand there. “Can I take that off for you?”
Rick swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nervously wrung his hands together. “Can I- can I keep it on, please? Just for a little while, it won’t be too long, I promise,” he rushed out the rest of his sentence, a wave of shame flooding through him at the pitying look on his new owner’s face, but mostly from objecting him.
“Of course, Rick,” he replied softy, and Rick suddenly felt extremely self-conscious and claustrophobic, uncomfortable with touch despite Negan leaning back.
He suddenly became aware of his own nakedness, and flushed harder in embarrassment. It was an emotion he hadn’t felt in years. He didn’t know how to accept this first act of kindness he’d ever received. Negan watched the skin under his palm redden with heat and saw Rick adjust the blanket over his lap, covering himself more and shyly turning his head to look out the window.
Negan cleared his throat, removing his hand. “At what age were you sold?” He asked softly. Rick’s eyes grew sad. “I can’t really remember too well. I have some… problems with my memory, from my… work. I think I was around 8 or maybe 10,” he admitted. His shoulders slumped, before he immediately corrected his posture into a stiff upright stance.
Negan glanced over at him, then at the piercings on his chest, then looked back to Rick’s face. “Have you always done the same… work?” He asked, horrified with disbelief plainly written across his face. Rick looked incredibly uncomfortable as he whispered a quiet “yes”, his blue eyes firmly fixed out the window.
Negan’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, enraged and unable to fathom but still also believing that someone would do such a thing as to sell a child into sexual slavery. He knew the world was sick.
Negan looked to him in alarmed concern, finding the first place he could pull over and turned to face the man in the passenger side, slowly raising his hands to cup Rick’s face. Rick’s lower lip trembled at the gesture, eyes watering as he wearily met Negan’s gaze.
“Oh honey,” he murmured, sliding his hands through Rick’s hair. Rick closed his eyes at the tender touch, releasing a shaky breath.
“Do you have anywhere to go? Any family you can live with?” He asked gently. Rick knew nobody wanted him back in their lives. His parents were probably dead. “No, but it’s okay, I’ll find… I’ll find somewhere.”
Rick tried to concentrate on making a plan for his future but was overwhelmed by the hands lightly running through his hair. Negan cast him a doubtful look. He didn’t even deliberate on his next proposal.
“You can stay with me, for however long it takes for you to get back on your feet, if you’d like that?”
Confusion colored Rick’s face as he stared at Negan. “You’ve already done enough for me, I’ll be fine, really.” Rick knew he didn’t sound too convincing. He had absolutely no idea how to make decisions for himself or what he’d do. The newfound necessity of choice terrified him.
“You’ve no money, no food, no shelter. You don’t even have clothes. You go outside like that you’re gonna get arrested for public indecency. That is, unless you die from exposure first.” Negan tried not to be patronizing as he somewhat scolded the man.
Rick’s eyes dropped to the car floor as he pondered the idea of prison, it sounded like heaven. It would be far better than his slavers. He could get food and have a routine. But… His eyes flicked back and forth between Negan’s. He never was any good at reading people so he tended to presume the worst. But his new master seemed so nice. His eyes were kind, and Rick had nowhere else to go.
He met Negan’s gaze, whispering lightly and trying to convey his overwhelming and uncertain gratitude. His Adam’s apple bobbed as his head made a hesitant series of short nods. “Yes, please.” Negan smiled at him, eyes bright. Rick bashfully dropped his gaze and turned towards the window again, suddenly very uncomfortable with the hands in his hair.
Negan got the message and withdrew his hands gently, concerned at how much the tension left Rick’s shoulders when he’d stopped. He pulled back onto the road.
“I’ve got a farm, about an hour away. I could do with another pair of hands, honestly.” Negan quickly realised it sounds like he was going to make the man work, maybe against his will. He backtracked.
“Not that you’d have to work, I just thought it’d interest you, small jobs and stuff like that.” He looked over to Rick, who simply responded with small little unsure “okay.”
With Rick’s chest bare, Negan could see the subtle way the man’s breathing picked up, before seeing the piercings. “Rick,” he called the man’s attention who reluctantly looked at him with distrusting eyes.
“Rick, you do know that sexual violence is perpetrated solely by some of the most vile, evil people to walk this sphere of dirt. The fact that slavers aren’t put in jail if they do it to a slave, but they are if they do it to a spouse or even anyone? Fucking insanity. I’d never do anything like that to you, or anyone else.”
“But they need someone to- they gotta have someone to let it out on or it wouldn’t be controlled, they might hurt… someone else, somebody who can’t protect themselves... or…” Rick trailed off lamely. He wasn’t used to speaking so much and was embarrassed how he sounded.
Negan nearly slammed the brakes down to look over at Rick in disbelief. Rick jolted at the sudden stop and pressed himself as far away from Negan as he could. “You can’t actually believe that, can you?” Negan asked, incredulous. “You think some humans should be forced into slavery, sexual or otherwise?”
Rick became increasingly uncomfortable with Negan’s intense attention zeroed in on him. He tried to elaborate, voice getting weaker. “People like me.” He wanted to get out of the car and away from Negan, he just wanted to be left alone.
Sensing Rick’s growing distress, Negan stiffly started driving again, making sure his movements were controlled despite wanting to physically shake some sense into the other man.
Without taking his eyes off the road, he asked tightly what other 8 year old deserves to be sold into a life of suffering. Rick stays silent, and the former slave is still thinking about the question when they get to Negan’s home.