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[reciprocityfic]

fires, chapter three

Title: Fires Fandom: The Walking Dead Pairing: Rick x Michonne Rating: T Summary: “Because sometimes fires burn to make way for something new…something beautiful.“  The evolution of Rick and Michonne’s relationship as they prepare to go to war with The Saviors.  Canon-divergent.

Author’s Note: So, there will be one more, short chapter after this one. Thanks for sticking with me, even through the long waits between updates!

chapter one on tumblr, ao3 or ff.net.

chapter two on tumblr, ao3 or ff.net.

chapter three on ao3 or ff.net.

CHAPTER 3: RADIANCE

Carl is the first to know, of course.

She hadn’t given him any specific time to bring himself and Judith home, just told him to mosey on over whenever he felt like it.  She even encouraged him to have a lazy morning, hoping that her and Rick could get in some more alone time before having to face the world again.

But after they confirm the decision they’d made the night before, realize that they’re going to marry each other, they can’t wait to tell him.  The dress in a hurry and then jog to Rosita and Tara’s, Rick taking Judith and Michonne grabbing Carl’s arm and practically dragging him back to their house.

Carl barely has time to cross the threshold and close the door behind him before his dad and Michonne corner him, the four of them still in the foyer.  Carl frowns and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“‘Chonne, I thought you said to be lazy today.”

“Yeah, well.  Change of plans.”

She can barely hold back her smile, and Carl notices.  He looks back and forth between her and his beaming father, Judith resting her head against his shoulder in his arms, looking just as groggy as her brother.

“What’s going on?” Carl asks slowly.

Michonne doesn’t even have a chance to open her mouth before Rick speaks.

“Michonne said she’d marry me,” he blurts out, a hint of awe in his voice, as if her wanting to marry him is so improbable, an honor he can’t believe has been bestowed on him.  She smiles at the same time it puts a pang in her heart.  He still can’t see his worth.  His beauty.  She wonders if she’ll ever succeed in changing that, and smiles again knowing she’ll have the rest of her days to try.

She’s lost in her thoughts, and it takes Rick saying his son’s name to pull her out of them and register the fact that Carl hasn’t yet responded to the news.  She blinks, turning slightly to see the blank look on Carl’s face, and fear starts to stir in her gut.

She’d been so caught up in the prospect of marrying Rick, in marveling at how natural the whole thing felt, that she hadn’t even considered the possibility that Carl might not approve.

She and Carl had cared about each other for so long that she couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t cared for the boy, even though she knew it really wasn’t all that long ago.  He had accepted her long before his father had, perhaps even loved her before he did, too.  When her and Rick had finally gotten together, she got the sense that Carl had almost expected it.  That he’d been waiting for it.  She’d always known him to be wise beyond his years.

The transition from friends to lovers had gone over so smoothly in their household, that she hadn’t considered the transition to husband and wife might not be that simple.  In an instant, so many thoughts flood her brain that she can barely keep track of them.

She supposes it hasn’t been very long at all since his mother died.  Judith had just turned one by their best estimation, meaning that barely a year had gone by since Lori passed.  That year felt like a lifetime, but it wasn’t, and she considers the old world, of a widower remarrying in such a relatively short time after the death of his wife during childbirth.  It seemed sudden to the part of her that still remembered how life before felt.  Did that matter in this new world, when days sometimes felt like weeks and a year could seem like a lifetime, even when it wasn’t?

And if Carl didn’t approve, what would they do?  Would his feelings make them call the whole thing off?  She would love Rick just as wholly and desperately no matter what Carl thought.  Nothing could change that.  But Carl’s rejection of this next step would undoubtedly cripple that all-consuming joy and peace that flowed through her now, and she hates the idea of that.  She hates it.

But then Carl smiles brilliantly, and she feels so light.  Like her feet will lift off the floor.

“Took you long enough to ask, Dad,” he says with a smirk, and Michonne grabs both of her boys and pulls them towards her without thinking, wrapping her arms around them and leaning over to nuzzle her face against Judith.  The little girl babbles and bounces, sensing the happiness of the three people around her.

“You’re really happy, then?” she asks, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.  She has to be sure.  To know that her happiness, that this rightness flowing through her veins is safe.  Carl reaches up and touches her cheek, wiping away the moisture and then glancing up at his dad with a knowing smile.

“Yeah.  It’s cool.”

Rick laughs, and then Carl laughs, and then Michonne laughs because they do.  Judith keeps babbling and bouncing.  She tightens her grip on all three of them, stands in the middle of the foyer and holds her family.

Her family.

*             *             *

“When are you guys gonna do it?  You know, actually get married?”

Michonne looks up from the eggs she’d whipped together for all of them once they finally managed to move from the doorway.  She finds Carl staring back at her, a half-smile still on his face.

“We didn’t set a date,” Rick answers from behind her, where he’s refilling Judith’s sippy cup with water.

“Got any suggestions?” she asks the boy, scooping up a bite of eggs on her fork and reaching to her right, where Judith sits in her highchair, remnants of her breakfast smeared across the tray.  The little girl accepts the food, and Michonne smiles.

“What about today?”

His words make Michonne pause, and when she turns to look at him, Carl shrugs.

“What?”

“We just got engaged last night,” she says, as Rick hands Judith her drink and then walks around the table, pulling out the chair next to Carl and sitting down.

“So?” Carl asks.  “I don’t think there’s anything big going on today.  If you can postpone anything, or hand off duties to someone else, I think you should do it.”

“Should we really be postponing anything at this point?” Rick offers.  “I mean, you never know – “

“One day isn’t going to change anything in the long run,” Carl interrupts.  “Negan and The Saviors – they’re not the only things that matter.  We can’t stop living while we’re fighting them.  At least not completely.  Stuff like this is important, too.”

Carl drops his gaze towards the table, and Michonne sees the briefest hint of sadness flicker across his face.

“It’s just that you can’t be too sure of anything anymore.  I mean, I know we’re gonna be here tomorrow.  And I know we’re gonna beat the Saviors, and we’re gonna have a lot more tomorrows after we win, but…I can’t know anything one hundred percent.  No one can, especially now.  So if you really want something, if something’s important – and this is important – I don’t think you should wait to do it.”

Michonne can only stare at him, mouth slightly open, wetness slightly stinging the corners of her eyes.

This kid.  He was going to be the end of her.  She was sure of it.

“You’re too smart for your own good, Carl Grimes,” she declares after a few moments, as Rick leans over and ruffles his son’s hair before placing a quick kiss on the top of his head.

“I can move things around and pass things off.  Clear my schedule,” Rick tells them, turning to look across the table at Michonne, a smirk on his face and mirth in his eyes.

“What do you say, Mich?  You want to marry me today?”

The smile she gives him nearly takes up her entire face, and she reaches across the table to take his hand in hers.

“Yeah, Grimes.  I do.”

He laces their fingers together, and she sees his eyes begin to shine.  She has to turn away to keep from crying herself.  She can’t remember a time in her life when she’s been so happy and cried so much.  Maybe the day Andre was born.  It’s almost exhausting – feeling so much, loving so much – but she wouldn’t change it or trade it in for anything in the world.

She looks towards Judith, and the girl stares up at her, homemade blueberry jam from The Hilltop smeared around her mouth.

“What do you say, Judy?” Michonne asks.  “You want to come me and your dad’s wedding today?”

Judith reaches towards Michonne to pat her cheek with her chubby, sticky hand, and laughs.

*             *             *

Carl, rather unexpectedly, turns into the wedding planner Michonne never got the chance to hire, and the one Rick and Lori couldn’t afford.

“Okay,” he says, his tone curt and purposeful, “you two go get ready. I’ll take Judith and go tell Father Gabriel and invite everyone. Or, wait…”

He trails off, eyes darting around the room almost nervously, as if someone was listening in.

“Are we inviting everyone?” he asks quietly. “Or just us?”

The three of them exchange a look, and know they all agree on what to do without needing to have a conversation. Carl speaks for all of them.

“Just us. Got it.”

He moves to lift his sister out of her highchair and then walks over to the sink to wash her hands. After he dries her off, he grabs his and Judith’s shoes from their spot by the door and sits down on the couch.

“Like I said, just go get ready,” he instructs them again as he ties Judith’s tiny sneakers. “The rest of us will take care of everything else.”

He slips on his own shoes in a flash and then scoops up his sister, turning to Rick and Michonne.

“Meet everyone at the church in about an hour?”

They barely have the chance to answer him before he’s out the door, talking to his sister as she chatters back brightly.

“I think I’m just gonna put Carl in charge of everything from now on,” Rick says after the sound of the door shutting behind their children has left the room. Michonne laughs and walks to him, standing in front of him and grabbing both of his hands, twining their fingers together.

“He’s always very determined. It’s a good thing.”

Rick laughs lowly as he nods in agreement, eyes locking with hers. It takes only a moment for his laughter to fade, and for everything else to fall away except the two of them. Their eyes gleam as if they’re kids who have just realized it’s Christmas morning, except that this is the best Christmas morning they’ve ever had, and there will never be a better one. They both know what they’re getting, and it’s the one thing they want most in the world.

She wants to kiss him, wants to lift herself on her toes and press her lips against his until she can’t breathe. But she knows if she kisses him once, she’ll kiss him again, and again and again and again until all thoughts of weddings and churches and guests are far away from her mind and the only thing she cares about is his voice in her ear and his heart beating with hers and how good he feels pressed against her and how much she loves him.

She can see the same desire in his eyes, so she bites her lip almost bashfully before speaking.

“Well, you heard him,” she tells Rick quietly.

“Yeah, I did. We better go get ready before he comes back and yells at us.”

They both chuckle, and then almost freeze as they catch each other’s gazes again. As the gravity of the moment, and of what they’re about to do, sets in and suddenly knocks them off their feet.

But then, in an instant, they’re off.

They chase each other to their room playfully, hands wandering and grabbing the other all the way, soft curses and jokes and the other’s expense mumbled back and forth as they trip up the stairs in their eagerness, light laughter filling the air. She’s reminded of the night they first kissed, and how the journey they’d taken from the couch to their bed had felt much as this one does. It buzzed with the same nervous, excited energy, and her heart had pounded the same beat with each step she took.

She knew that night, as they ambled up the stairs, that her life was going to change forever. She knows that again in this moment, and the prospect fills her with the same delight she felt all those weeks ago.

They stumble into their room, and she opens the closet while Rick walks to his dresser.

“I don’t have a tie,” he tells her from across the room, and she shrugs as she runs her fingers over the clothes hanging before her.

“I don’t have a dress. We don’t need them.”

He hums, and she hears a few drawers open and shut. Then, his footsteps travel back across the room to where she’s standing. He presses himself into her back before she can turn around.

“I’ll see you in about an hour, yeah?” he asks softly, brushing a kiss against her cheek. Her eyebrows pull together.

“Where are you going?”

He scoffs playfully as he moves from her and steps out of the room, turning to walk backwards down the hall and towards the stairs with clothes bundled under his arm.

“Don’t you remember? It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

*             *             *

Wearing white wasn’t very practical anymore.

Not in this world, when days typically ended with clothes covered in dirt, sweat, guts, blood, or some combination of the four.   Usually some combination of the four.  Not only was white harder to clean - it also made it easier to remember.  Color could hide things; it could absorb the splatter of your own blood across your chest, soak in the sweat that gathered in beads on your back as you ran from walkers, collect the dust of dirt that settled on your shoulders and swirled up your nose and into your lungs as you dug graves to bury your loved ones, or holes to hide weapons for an upcoming war.

She can still think of their first trip to The Hilltop, remember Rick on his back with a blade at his neck.  She can remember following him into the bathroom and helping him remove his coat and shirt, and sitting on the counter as he scrubbed the white fabric together in the sink.  She can see the blood mixing with water in whirling patterns and rippling down the drain, can feel his stubble under her fingers as she wiped the sticky, red film off his cheeks and chin.

Killing that man was justified - it was necessary - and she’d want Rick to do it again in any type of similar situation.  Hell, she’d do it for him one million times over, again and again, without hesitation and without regret.

But it was still someone’s blood.  Someone’s life.  And that t-shirt sat in the bottom of his dresser and it was still stained and every time she caught a glimpse of it she saw the knife and the still-warm body that fell on the ground with a thud.  She saw Rick’s face and fingers coated in red.

White didn’t hide anything.  White made you remember.  And it didn’t make sense to wear it.

And yet in those first few days, when Deanna told them about her ridiculous parties and took them to a room full of spare clothes, encouraging them to pamper themselves - as if something like that could exist in this world - she had taken the white blouse that hangs in the back of her closet now.  She had chosen to wear the black dress she grabbed over the shirt, of course, but she kept both of them.  She took something extra, and it hadn’t sat quite right in her stomach, because extra had no place in their lives anymore.  She and her family had spent so much time without anything extra.  They’d barely had enough to survive.

But she took the blouse anyways.  Maybe she hoped for more parties that would feel less and less preposterous as time went on.  Maybe she thought there might come a day when they didn’t return home in the evenings covered in guts and death.

Or maybe she had felt Rick in her heart even then, nestled deep behind her ribcage, small and secret, but there all the same.  Maybe part of her had known all along.

Whatever the reason, she took it, and it had hung unused and almost forgotten, buried behind practical things.  But now she pulls it off its hanger, the delicate chiffon smooth against her fingertips, and slips it over her shoulders before moving to the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

She stands in front of the full length mirror hanging on the back of the door, studies her reflection, and smiles.

The shirt isn’t exactly a style she would’ve gravitated towards before.  The thin bows that close the sleeves are a tad too sweet, the flower-patterned lace that covers her shoulders and upper chest kind of darling for her tastes.  But she looks at the way the fabric lays and flows over her body, the striking contrast between the light fabric and her dark skin, and she feels pretty.

She turns to the drawers under the sink, takes out the few elastics and bobby pins she’s collected over the past few months, gathers the top half of her locs and pulls them back and then secures them.  She pauses, and then feels her heart jump as she quickly goes for the bottom left drawer, suddenly remembering the handful of cosmetic supplies Tara had found in a makeup bag left in the corner of a walk-in closet in one of the empty houses.  She swipes a wand covered with half-dry mascara over her eyelashes lightly, and then grabs a tube of wine-colored lipstick and runs it over her lips, rubbing them together before examining them in the mirror.

She feels beautiful.

It’s only the second time she’s felt that way, unreservedly, since the world went to hell.  The first was when she and Rick had made love for the first time, after she removed her panties and bra and laid back on their bed, completely naked before him.  His gaze had raked over her unabashedly, reverently, and goosebumps raised on her skin.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, the awe and adoration in his voice palpable.  Her heart swelled.  She felt loved, and wanted.

She felt beautiful.

She feels beautiful now, and she wants him to see her.  She wants to watch the look on his face as his eyes take her in for the first time, wants to see his skin twinge pink and his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows slowly.  She wants to see his eyes shine in that way that makes her insides twist in the absolute best way.

She smiles again, and then turns for the door,  stopping in front of the full-length mirror once more before leaving the room.  She takes a deep breath, and runs her hands down her blouse.

White holds no secrets, leaves nothing to the imagination.  White makes you remember.

And she wants to remember this day.  This moment, the way she looks, how she feels, all the details of the events that will take place in the next few hours.

She never wants to forget them, and she vows that she never will.  She’ll hide them in her heart, where no one will ever touch them.  Where no one will ever take them from her.

For the rest of her life, they’ll be hers.

*             *             *

When she arrives at the church, she finds Rosita standing outside with a bouquet of flowers.  She smiles widely as Michonne approaches, and pulls her into a gentle hug once she’s within reach.  Michonne freezes for a moment. She’s never known Rosita to be very physically affectionate with the group, and she barely has time to clear her head and return the embrace before Rosita pulls away.

“Sorry,” she says quickly, looking past Michonne, a slight blush beginning to color her cheeks.  “I hope I didn’t mess up your outfit or anything.”

“Rosita, you don’t have to apologize for hugging me.”

“Yeah, I know.  Ignore me.  I’m just…I’m glad you and Rick are doing this.  After everything, you deserve something good.”

She brings her gaze back to Michonne, and worries her bottom lip with her teeth before speaking.

“I never thought I would end up being this happy for you guys.  I know that sounds kind of insulting, but I don’t mean it like that.  But after we met up with Glenn and Tara, and when the four of you walked into that train car at Terminus…I never dreamed that I would’ve gotten close to any of you.  But here I am, still with you guys.   Alive because of all of you.  I found a damn family at the end of the world.  After my first one died, I never thought I’d have one again.  Never thought I’d even want a family if one managed to show up.  But I’m glad you guys showed up.  I’m glad that I’m still with you.  And I’m happy for the two of you.”

Rosita takes a deep breath, and averts her gaze again, suddenly finding something interesting in a patch of grass.

“And if Abraham was still here,” she continues slowly, “he would be too.  I know he would.  He and Rick didn’t get off to the greatest start, to say the least.  But at the end, he really respected him.  He cared about him, and the rest of you.”

Rosita laughs lightly, and then looks at Michonne, tears shining in her eyes.

“He was happy for you and Rick.  Shit, the day you guys went to Hilltop for the first time, he came home with this giant ass grin on his face, and the first words out of his mouth were, and I quote, ‘Guess who finally pulled their heads outta their asses and started ‘uggin bumplies.’”

“Oh, God,” Michonne groans, covering her face with her hand.  “‘Uggin bumplies?”

“Who knows,” Rosita says with a chuckle.  “That’s Abraham for you.  Or, I guess, was Abraham for you.”

She pauses for a moment, letting the air settle between them and the mood drop a beat before continuing.

“The point is, he cared about you and Rick.  He cared about all of us.  And I know if he’s somewhere right now - watching us, or looking down on us or whatever - he doesn’t regret dying for us.  And he’s glad you’re doing this.”

Rosita sniffs, wiping at her eyes and muttering an expletive under her breath, and Michonne reaches out to grab her hand, squeezing it softly before dropping it again to wipe at one of her own tears that escaped from the corner of her eye.

“Damn it, I’m not supposed to make you sad on your wedding day.  I’m not supposed to make you cry.  You’re supposed to do that in there,” Rosita says, motioning with her head towards the church.  “And they’re supposed to be tears of joy and shit.”

Michonne shakes her head.

“No.  I’m not sad.  I miss Abraham, but I’m not sad.  I’m glad I got to know him, and that I was able to call him family.  Rick is, too.  And I’m glad he’s happy for us.  Thank you for telling me all of that.  Honestly.”

Rosita gives her a closed-mouth smile and nods, before glancing down at the bouquet in her hand and handing it to Michonne.

“This is for you,” she says, and Michonne grins widely at the colorful wildflowers she’s holding.  “Me, Tara, and Judes picked them from that little patch that’s right outside the walls.  I know they’re not much - “

“They’re perfect,” Michonne interrupts, and she means it, with every fiber of her being.  “They’re absolutely perfect.”

Through everything that’s happened, through the end of the world, these flowers have survived.  They’re still there, and still growing, bringing a bit of light to such an ugly world.  Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, they’re mostly insignificant, but they matter.  They’re proof that regardless of how grim things seem, there can still be good things.  There can still be beautiful things.

She brings the flowers to her nose and inhales their sweet scent before holding them in front of her and looking towards Rosita.

“So, how are we doing this?”

“You’re walking in the church and then walking down the aisle.”

“Everyone’s here already?” Michonne asks.

“Yep,” Rosita confirms.  “We were just waiting for you.”

Michonne frowns.

“Shit, am I late?”

Rosita laughs, and shakes her head.

“No, you’re right on time.  We just got everything ready.  We wanted to do this for you.  We wanted to give you this.”

Michonne feels her eyes well up again, and Rosita grabs her arm and pulls her towards the door.

“Nope,” she says.  “I refuse to make you cry twice before we even get into the church.  You look gorgeous, by the way,” Rosita tells her as they reach the entrance to the church.  “Rick’s going to die.”

“After everything we’ve been through, he better not even think about dying on me now.”

The two women laugh, and take their final few steps towards the church.  Rosita pauses once more, glancing back at Michonne.

“You ready for this?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Michonne inhales, and smiles tenderly.  Her fingers toy with the stems of her flowers.

“I’ve been ready for this for a long time, I think.”

Rosita nods, turns around, and pushes open the heavy sanctuary doors.

*             *             *

She doesn’t look at rick when she walks into the church because she knows that once she sees him, she won’t be able to see anything else.  And she wants to remember every detail - every inch - of this moment.

All of her family’s eyes are on her as she enters the sanctuary.  She smiles as she observes them sitting in the pews, everyone who’s been invited, everyone who Carl’s deemed as theirs.

Tara and Daryl sit next to each other, and when their gazes meet Tara throws a playful thumbs up and Daryl gives her the closest thing to a smile that Daryl has.  Rosita slips into the pew right behind them, smoothing her hair and looking at Michonne fondly, the weight of their conversation still heavy in both their minds.

Aaron and Eric sit across from them, Aaron with his camera in hand and Eric resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.  Aaron has an eager grin on his face, and Michonne’s heart fills with gratitude as she looks at him.  He brought them here, and while Alexandria has been far from perfect, it’s become home. It’s the place that she will fight for as long as she’s able.

It’s the place where she found herself falling in love.  The place where she realized she could have that, even in this world.  And she could have it stronger than it’s ever been before.

Her eyes move to Father Gabriel, standing at the center of the altar with his Bible in hand.  His expression is so peaceful, and she wonders how often he stood like this in his past life, and if it brings him comfort to practice his calling again.

She thinks of how much he’s grown in the time they’ve known him, how he’s transformed from a cowardly priest holed up in his lonely church, into a survivor.  A fighter.  An asset.  She’s proud of him, and she’s come to care deeply for him.

Then, she takes a moment to remember everyone who should be there, but isn’t.

She thinks of Maggie, Sasha, and Enid at The Hilltop, and Carol and Morgan at The Kingdom, loved ones that are farther away than it seems they should be.  But their world is growing, and that means their family is, too - not only in numbers, but also in distance.  And it’s right - it’s good - but it’s not easy.

And then she thinks of all those who can’t be there.  All the people they’ve lost.  She thinks of Beth and Noah sitting next to each other in a pew.  She thinks of Denise, who should be sitting next to Tara and holding her hand.  She thinks of Tyreese, standing in the back of the sanctuary with his electric smile on his face, Bob standing next to him and already starting to treat him as a brother.

She thinks of Deanna, finally getting to see Michonne figure out what it was she wanted for herself all this time.  She thinks of Andrea, watching with her heart beating fondly in her chest, as she sees how much her group ended up meaning to her friend.  She thinks of Abraham, trying to hold back the colorful remarks he already thought up when it’s time for her and Rick to kiss at the end of the service.

She thinks of Hershel, looking at them with warm eyes, glad that they’ve found their way.  That they’ve found their place in the world.  And that they’ve found each other.

And she thinks of Glenn, one of the dearest people to her, standing in his rightful place at Rick’s side.

She remembers all the people she still holds inside her.  She takes a moment to mourn them, and to miss them.  To love them.

She reaches the head of the center aisle and finds Carl, carrying Judith, a miniature version of Michonne’s wildflower bouquet clutched in her tiny fists.

Carl Grimes.  The boy wearing an oversized sheriff’s hat and a face dusted in freckles, who was willing to take on a restaurant full of walkers by himself just so he could show his baby sister a picture of their mother.  The first one who accepted her into the group at the prison.  Someone who’s seen so many horrible things, and has yet remained thoroughly good.  Her dearest friend, whom she loves completely and irrevocably.

And Judith.  A baby - a baby - who reminded her of everything she lost and everything she blamed herself for.  The little girl she avoided for as long as she possibly could.  But Judith wore her down, and as soon as Michonne opened herself back up, Judith cemented Michonne’s love for her in a single heartbeat.

And now they stand in front of her, brother and sister, wide grins on their faces as they prepare to accept her into their immediate family, and readily claim her as the closest thing they’ll ever have to a mother again.

Carl and Judith.   Her Carl and Judith.

“I told Judy we couldn’t throw flowers until you got here,” Carl whispers to her as they approach each other, “but she didn’t listen to me.”

She looks down and sees Judith picking at what is now mostly stems in her hand, petals scattered on the ground near her brother’s shoes .  Michonne laughs lightly and sweeps a hand over the girl’s soft, blonde hair.

A silence falls over them, and Carl looks at her expectantly as she tries to think of something to say.

“You ready for this?” she asks after a moment.

“Hell yeah,” Carl answers quickly, a smirk placing on his lips.  “The real question is, are you ready?”

“You better believe I am,” she tells him, and his smile grows.

“Let’s do this, then.”

He turns with Judith and begins to walk down the aisle.  She takes a deep breath, then turns towards the front of the church, closing her eyes.  She counts to three in her head, and then opens them.

Her gaze finds him instantaneously, like he’s full of some sort of magnetic force and she’s made of metal, she a moth and he the only flame in a pitch-black night.

Rick.

Rick Grimes.

Her last and greatest love.

He’s wearing a light blue linen button-up, and a pair of navy denim jeans that barely look worn, and she chuckles to herself as she sees he’s changed out of his beloved, ratty black jeans for her and their special occasion.  His dark brown hair is neatly slicked back, and her favorite, silky, thick curls lay in multitudes at the nape of his neck, as they always do.  Two days’ old stubble covers his jaw, and her stomach flutters as she imagines the delicious way it will scratch at her skin when he kisses her and when he makes love to her.

His blue eyes gleam, his smile shines so brightly it could light up a starless sky, and she can hardly hold herself back from running to him.  She wants nothing more than to be by his side, and the short aisle suddenly feels six miles long.

But she walks it, and she gets to him, finally.  As she comes to stand in front of him, he reaches out and cups her face, his calloused fingers caressing her soft cheek.  His touch sends pinpricks of electricity over skin and down her spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing her cheekbone, and he hand that’s not holding her flowers takes his hand from her face, hold it to her lips so she can kiss his palm, and then brings down their hands and twines their fingers together as Gabriel begins to speak.

The ceremony is mostly a blur, because now that she’s here with him - touching him, seeing him, breathing him - she can’t focus on anything else, just as she’d predicted.  But it doesn’t matter, because the words aren’t important.  He, and she, and the fact that they are here together - those things are important.  And they are truer than anything has ever been.

Their vows are short and simple, because so much has already been said between them.  And although there is still so much left to stay, they will whisper those things to each other in quiet moments they steal from the world - in times that are purely theirs, and no one else’s.

For now, they say what they can.

“I lost everything,” she says, tears gathering in her eyes, and he squeezes her hand.  “I lost everything I loved, and after I did, I didn’t think there was anything good left in the world.  And I thought I was only alive so I could suffer, as punishment for failing the people I cared about.  But after I found the prison, I realized that there were still good things left in the world.  Carl, Judith, Glenn, Maggie, Hershel, and the rest of our group - they made me realize that I could have a family again.  And you.  Meeting you and knowing you.  You taught me that I could trust someone again, and believe in someone.  You showed me that loving someone in this world was worth it, even though it’s dangerous.  I laugh with you.  I look forward to every day, because I know you’ll be in it with me.  And I promise to spend every one of the rest of my days with you.  I promise to help you find the beauty that’s left in the world, like you did for me.  and I promise to love you every moment for the rest of my life.”

He reaches up to wipe away a tear that’s fallen from the corner of her eye, and he trails the backs of his fingers down the side of her face.  His eyes well as he speaks.

“You saved my life,” he says earnestly, the slightest tremble in his voice.  “You’ve saved it over and over again, and you keep saving it.  You support me, and you tell me when I’m wrong.  And no matter what I do - no matter if I win or lose, or what mistakes I make - I know you’ll still be here for me.  You prove to me that there’s something more than just fighting to survive, and that I don’t always have to be a warrior or a leader.  You show me that we get to live, not just survive, and that I still get to be just me.  And I want to live with you, for as long as I possibly can.  So I’m going to fight for you.  For us, and the life we can have.  And no matter what happens, I’m always going to protect you.  I’m always going to take care of you.  And I’m always going to love you.  I promise you that.  As long as there’s breath in my body, I’m going to love you.”

It happens very quickly after that, and Father Gabriel can only get out “You may kiss…” before his arm snakes around her waist and he pulls her towards him as his other hand cradles the back of her neck.  Her hands grab the collar of his shirt and tug as he presses his lips against hers, before moving her fingers to their favorite spot - tangled in his hair.  She opens her mouth and his tongue dips inside, and they drown in each other.  It is only when she reluctantly resurfaces for air that she registers the cheers and applause from their family.

As they part, Carl and Judith approach.  Judith reaches for Rick and he takes her, as Carl throws his arms around both Rick and Michonne.  She hears the snap of Aaron’s camera somewhere in the noise of the crowd.

Soon, the others come up to them and laud them with hugs and words of congratulation.  Aaron hands her two polaroids: one of her and Rick lost in each other, in the middle of their kiss, and one of the four of them - her, Rick, Carl, and Judith - wrapped in an embrace just afterwards.  Tears fill her eyes once again, and she hugs Aaron fiercely, telling him thank you over and over.

When she lets him go, she kisses each photo lightly, and then holds them both over her heart.

*             *             *

Carl takes himself and Judith back to Tara and Rosita’s for the second night in a row, stuttering out that he wants to give her and Rick alone time as a deep brush colors his cheeks, and she’s momentarily mortified that one of her best friends, her adopted son, just made reference to the fact that he knows she’s most definitely having sex with his father tonight, but Rick only laughs as Carl stumbles with his sister out the door.  Rick pulls Michonne into his side as the sound of his laughter still echoes in the empty foyer, and she can’t help but be warmed by the sound.  His laughter is her absolute favorite song, and she couldn’t stop the smile that creeps up on her face and twists up the corners of her mouth even if she tried to.

They turn towards each other and bring their mouths together, kissing lazily in the middle of the room, appreciating their alone time and relishing in the fact that they are together, and that they belong to each other.  They always have, and getting married today only confirmed that bond.  It’s an outward expression of an internal, emotional commitment that they’ve now made known to everyone around them.

They keep kissing until their breath is short, and Rick presses his lips to her forehead before taking her hand and tugging her towards the stairs.  She stops in the kitchen to retrieve an almost-empty package of blue tack from a drawer.  When they reach their room, she pulls the two photos Aaron took from her back pocket and kneels, hanging them on the wall with the tack, right next to her pillow, so she’ll see them every morning when she opens her eyes.

She stays there, admiring the photos as her heart flutters, and runs her fingertips over the smooth film of the images.  Suddenly, one of Rick’s arms wraps around her from behind, and she smirks softly.

“Gotcha something,” he whispers, his lips pressing against her ear before moving to trail down her neck.

“Yeah?” she breathes, tilting her head to the side.

He hums against her shoulder, reaches around to take one of her hands, and drops two small, cool objects in her palm.  When she opens her hand, her breath catches in her throat.

“This is what I spent most of my hour doing.  Now, rooting around through old, leftover jewelry isn’t how you typically go ring shopping,” he says, his voice holding the slightest tinge of nervousness, “so i know it’s not much - “

“It’s perfect,” she tells him, quickly interrupting him as she gazes down at the two rings in her palm.  The engagement ring has an array of flat diamonds set into the silver band, while the wedding one is a smooth, simple, silver ring.

“Yeah?” he asks, as she turns around to face him.

She nods fiercely, and then holds the rings out to him.

“You’re not going to make me put them on myself, are you?”

Her voice breaks as her question comes to an end, and he chuckles.

“Nah.  I think I can do that part for you.”

He begins to slide the rings down her third left finger slowly, first the wedding one, and then the engagement.

“I didn’t know what size you were, so I just guessed,” he cautions.

“They’re just right,” she assures him, as the rings slip easily over her knuckles and sit on the bottom part of her finger with just the right amount of snugness.

Once they’re in place, he brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses her rings before running his lips over her knuckles.  She laughs, even through the tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Well, where’s yours?” she questions earnestly, and he smiles as he digs back into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a plain silver ring to match Michonne’s.

She looks at his left ring finger, where the tan line from his old ring has finally faded, and she grins as she slides on his new piece of jewelry, knowing that now, a new one will begin to take form.

She keeps her hold on his hand when she’s done, and they gaze at each other, his eyes beginning to gleam with unshed liquid.

“Michonne Grimes,” he says, his voice proud, and awed.  “My wife.”

Her heart and stomach leap at his words, and she brings her hands up to caress his face, and she wipes at the moisture on his cheeks as he gently begins to cry.

“My husband,” she murmurs reverently.

A short beat passes, and then they lunge at each other, pressing their mouths together and each moving their lips with the other’s.  She giggles against him as he pushes her back onto their blankets and pulls her legs toward him.  He breaks their kiss and rakes his eyes over her.

“You didn’t need a dress,” he tells her.  “You were still the most stunning bride there’s ever been.”

She flushes at his compliment, reaches up to push a few stray strands of his hair out of his face.

“And you were my handsome groom.  Especially in those new pants you found.”

He throws his head back as he laughs.

“I did that just for you, you know.”

“I do know.  And I appreciate the gesture immensely.  Although,” she says, her voice lowering slightly as she runs her foot over his calf, “I think I’m ready for them to come off now.”

He smiles at her mischievously.

“If you insist.  But only if I get to take clothes off of you, too,” he says, his hands already slipping under her blouse.

She looks up at him from under her eyelashes, playfully tapping her chin with her index finger.

“Hmm.  I think I’ll make that deal.”

They undress each other slowly, taking their time to reveal every inch of themselves to the other.  And though they’ve done it an uncountable number of times before, it feels different, after the promises they made today.  It feels like more.

Once they’re both naked, she reaches down to grab him, but he stops her hand before it reaches its goal.

“Wait,” he tells her, moving down to lie on their pallet and pulling her with him, so they’re facing each other, their legs tangled together.  “I just…I just want to hold you for a little bit.”

He wraps his arms around her to caress her back.  She nods, and bites her lip, trying to temper the overwhelming love swelling inside her once again, as his fingers begin to trace up and down her spine.

They lay quietly, her hand trailing over his forearm as it rests against her.

“Rick?”

“Yeah, baby?”

She sighs, and snuggles closer to him, resting her head on his chest.

“I know I don’t need a dress,” she says softly.  “And you don’t need a suit.  And we don’t need a bunch of guests or a huge party, but I think…I think I want it.”

She tilts her head up to look into his eyes, and he brings his hand up to move one of her locs from her face, before resting the hand on her cheek.

“I never did,” she tells him, one corner of her mouth turning up.  “At least, I never thought I would.  But I don’t want the world to take that from us.  I want it.  With you, I want it.”

She wants everything with him.

His eyes become bright, and the sweetest smile graces his face.

“Then let’s have a wedding,” he says, and she leans in to press a kiss into his shoulder.

“After this war is over - “

“After we win this war,” he corrects, and she nods against him.

“We’ll have a real wedding,” she continues.  “We’ll invite everyone - The Hilltop and The Kingdom, too.  I’ll wear a dress, and you’ll wear a suit.”

She can’t help but giggle gently at the mental image.  She never dreamed she’d see herself wear anything like that again.  Not in one million years.

But here she is.  Happy.  In love.   Married.

“It’ll be beautiful,” Rick declares, as he takes her left hand to kiss her rings once again.  He studies them, and takes a deep breath, the slightest frown slipping onto his face.

“You know,” he begins, “we probably shouldn’t tell anyone else we’re married.  Which also means we shouldn’t wear our rings.  If Negan finds out…”

“Negan will use it against us,” she finishes.

“Negan will use it to hurt us.”

She exhales, and closes her eyes.  She knows he’s right - they can’t wear their rings yet.  But she doesn’t want to take them off.  She never wants to take them off.  She’s only had them for a matter of minutes, but they’ve already become such a part of her.

“Maybe we can wear them just for tonight.”

He smirks, and then rolls her onto her back, and presses his lips to her nose as he settles on top of her.

“Yeah,” he agrees.  “Let’s wear them tonight.”

They kiss, and as his hands roam all over her body, his ring leaves a pleasantly hot trail against her skin.

*             *             *

A few days later, a group of them travels to Hilltop to help with weapons training.  Their family greets them at the gate; Carl and Enid run off together, Sasha eagerly takes a look at the rifles Tara and Scott found in an abandoned cabin last week, and Maggie goes to Rick, giving him a hug and then updating him on the overall status of the community and the progress they’ve made.

It warms Michonne’s heart, to see Maggie lead these people.  She’s so smart, and loving, and capable of such amazing things.  She’s leading, and thriving, and she wishes more than anything that her family was here to see it: her mother.  Hershel.  Beth.

Glenn.

When they’re given a quiet moment, Michonne pulls Maggie away from the group, and they end up standing on the back porch of the mansion, looking out over the thriving sorghum fields growing under the afternoon sun.

“Rick and I got married three days ago,” Michonne tells her, once the two women are alone and settled.

Maggie’s arms are around her immediately, and she kisses Michonne on the cheek before speaking into her ear.

“That’s so amazing, ‘Chonne.  If anyone left on this earth deserves to be happy, it’s the two of you.  I wish I could’ve been there to see it.”

“I wish you could’ve been there, too,” Michonne says as they separate and look back over the horizon.  “It was just us: Carl and Judith, Tara and Rosita, Daryl, Gabriel, Aaron and Eric.  You, Sasha, and Enid, and Carol and Morgan - you all should’ve been there.  It felt incomplete without you all.  I missed you.  And there’s a good chance we would’ve waited to do it until you all could come, but then Carl reminded us that you shouldn’t really delay anything these days.”

“He’s right,” Maggie says.

“He is.  He’s smart.”

“Well, he grew up in this world.  He’s had to be smart, to survive.”

Michonne nods, and then closes her eyes.

“Glenn should’ve been there,” she whispers.  “We’ve lost so many people during the time we’ve been together.  I should’ve seen so many faces in that church that I didn’t.  Faces I, and nobody else, will ever see again.  But Glenn…I felt his absence the most.  His hurt me the most.”

She sees Maggie’s head drop out of the corner of her eye, and she swears under her breath, mentally scolding herself.

“Maggie, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have - “

“No,” Maggie interrupts with a shake of her head, looking up at her friends with tears in her eyes.  “Don’t be sorry.   Please don’t be sorry.  I think a lot of people assume I don’t want to talk about him, but I do.  It hurts, but I want to talk about him.  He was here.  He lived, and he touched all of our lives.  And he deserves our conversations, and our memories.  He deserves to be remembered.”

MIchonne nods, and her vision begins to blur as her own tears form.

“God, Maggie, I wanted him there.  I wanted him there more than anything.”

“Oh, he was there,” Maggie assures her, sending her a tiny smile.  “You might’ve not been able to see him, but he was there.  He wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

Suddenly, Maggie laughs.

“You know, Glenn told me back at the prison that you and Rick were gonna end up together.”

“The prison?” Michonne asks, her face scrunching in confusion.  “Rick tried to kick me out of the prison every three minutes.”

“Must’ve been a bunch of unresolved sexual tension driving him up a wall.  Tension that is very resolved at this point.”

Michonne groans, and covers her face with her hands as she feels blush rise up into her cheeks.

“You’re not wrong,” she mumbles, and the two women laugh.

“Whatever it was, Glenn knew,” Maggie says, a wistful smile appearing on her lips.  “Glenn saw it.  He was good at that - seeing things.  Seeing people.  A little while later, I saw it too.  Then eventually, everyone saw it.  I think the two of you might’ve been the last ones to see it, in fact.”

“I think we were hiding from it, a little.  The idea of it was scary.  Letting yourself feel like that, knowing how much you could lose.  Especially after you’ve lost so much already.”

“Do you ever regret it?” Maggie asks softly.  “Or maybe wish you’d never found it in the first place?”

“No,” Michonne answers.  “I found the love of my life.  Finding Rick, and being with him, brought me back to life.  He’s the greatest thing I’ve ever had in my life.  How could I ever want to give it back?”

“Me either,” Maggie agrees.  “Even though I lost him, Glenn is the best thing that ever happened to me.  I’m grateful I’m got to have him for any time at all.”

Michonne slips her arm around Maggie’s waist, and squeezes her closer as Maggie lays her head on Michonne’s shoulder.

“We didn’t tell anyone we’re married, other than the people who were there,” Michonne says.  “You can tell Sasha, obviously, and Enid, if Carl hasn’t spilled it to her already.  You can probably let Jesus know, too.  But we’re not telling anyone else, and we’re not wearing out rings yet, either.  Because if Negan finds out, he’ll use it to hurt us however he can.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Maggie swears.

“It’s what we’re trying to prevent,” Michonne tells her, and then pauses for a moment.  Maggie tilts her head in question.

“But after we win this was against The Saviors, Rick and I decided that we want to have a real wedding.  With guests, and a reception, and an actual wedding dress.”

Michonne turns so that she’s facing Maggie, and grabs her hands.

“Maggie, you’re one of the most important people in the world to me.  And I can’t imagine getting married, or throwing any part of a wedding, without you by my side.”

“Are you asking me to be your maid of honor?” Maggie asks, her eyes lighting up.

Michonne looks at the ground bashfully.

“Yeah.  I am asking you that.”

Maggie squeals, and throws her arms around Michonne in a tight hug.

“Of course I will be!  I love you all so much, Michonne - you, Rick, Carl, and Judith.  You’re the closest family I have left, and I wouldn’t dream of missing this, or passing up the opportunity to be there for you and help you with this.”

But Maggie laughs as she pulls away from Michonne and motions to her finally-noticeable, ever-growing baby bump.

“This little one might be the size of a basketball by the time the big day comes, so who knows if I’ll even fit in a bridesmaid’s dress.  Of course, I guess I’m a matron, not a maid.  Ooh, yikes.  Matron makes me sound so old.”

“Maggie, you are the furthest thing from old,” Michonne promises her as she pulls her in for another hug, and over Maggie’s shoulder, Michonne sees Rick walking across the backyard, and she manages to catch his attention.  He stops, and meets her gaze.

The smile on his face shines as brightly as the sun behind him.

[obedmanwatkar]

EVM Tampering theory and Ballot Paper theory. In my opinion Blaming EVM is an excuse, Leaders of opposition want to run away and overlap their mistakes. There are many contradictions in EVM tampering mythical theory. One theory says, It can Be hacked by Bluetooth, the other theory says it can be hacked by some other micro controller chip and all etc etc etc...My point is that Only BJP hacks EVMs. Or BSP, SP also Hacks EVMs? Congress also hacks EVMs? It has become the common cry of every politician after every Election that EVMs were hacked. The Congress/AAP/SP/BSP/RJD theory says EVMs were hacked in 2014 too. This is insane, in 2014, 60% of Population of India one sidedly voted for modi everyone knows that, everyone knows the reason behind it it’s a ground reality. I am Not going in that Debate. Let’s debunk the myth about the screamers on ballot papers who keep saying that USA, Japan etc etc use Ballot papers why can’t India use it? We all know why ballot paper was banned, India is a land of Hooliganism, During elections people capture booth, Hijack the Trucks which carries ballot papers on the command of politicians, and if it doesn’t work the Same trucks meet with accidents or gets drowned in rivers and lakes etc etc. This already happened in the past, you go back In era of 70’s, 80’s,90’s you will find it that such things happened who use to do it? You can google it, nothing is hidden. That’s why EVM was introduced. Today we have advanced technology if you say EVMs are tampered then EVM tampering can be stopped by various means one of the means is VVPAT system, just press the button, get its printout, let voter verify that it’s vote is on the right place or not. After the verification voter can dump that piece of paper into the other box. So that if any candidate has doubt on Counting of votes, he/she can demand recounting on the basis of paper trails this is so simple, I could be wrong in giving technical solutions, I am not an IT expert in this case, but There can be other solutions too, IT engineers can Figure it out. In the era of technology, if there’s any technical problem then there is Solution, if We have Viruses, then we have Anti Viruses too. What exactly the point of demanding ballot paper then? Do the politicians want to Resurrect the era of Hooliganism? some are writing on social networking sites that they will break EVMs in every polling booth in 2019. That’s completely insane and disgusting. Isn’t that provoking people for Hooliganism? If such kind of things continue, The Voting percentage will decrease. Common people are getting confused and scared, many have already started saying that they won’t vote in 2019. Dear politicians Please stop being insane and childish and blaming EVM, Correct your mistakes which you did in the past if people didn’t Vote for you, what was the reason? Find it out, Do your campaigning, work accordingly and contest the elections. Insanity, Childishness, excuses of Blaming EVMs, Lies, Jugaad will lead us nowhere. THINK THINK THINK. —- Obed Manwatkar

[2violetflower15]

Day 9

Carl walked through the open door and scanned the room for a hiding place. A pillar stood twenty feet away and he dashed behind it.  A bead of sweat dripped down his face and into his good eye.  He wiped it away with a steady hand and sneaked a quick glance around the post.

Negan stood at the front of the room with Lucille in hand. The large crowd of people all took to the floor, kneeling before him. The sight brought back memories that made Carl’s stomach turn. The sounds of his family members screaming in the dark still haunted him when he slept at night.

There would be no rest; not until Negan was dead.

The boy stiffened his spine and raised his Beretta. His target was in the front of the room, going on about respect and consequences.

Poetic.

He fingered the grip of his gun and took aim. A woman stood between him and a clear shot. He considered firing anyway, but her long, dark braids reminded him of Michonne. He shook away the thought and focused on the task at hand.

“Come on you bastard,” he muttered, “move.”

As if he’d heard Carl’s command, Negan took three steps to the left and opened a clear path. Carl placed his finger on the trigger and was about to pull when he felt a sharp pain on the top of his head.

And then the room went dark.

I won’t let Negan hurt another member of our family, ever again.

The words in Carl’s letter played over and over in his mind. Like a record stuck on repeat, angry and loud, unrelenting.

I’m going to find him and kill him.

“He’s going to do what I can’t,” Rick whispered to himself.

“What’s that?”

Rick turned his gaze to Michonne who was behind the wheel. They’d been out on the road looking for Carl all night long, and were back at it again early this morning. She’d been doing such a good job of holding it together, mostly because he was so busy falling apart, but her worry for Carl had obviously taken its toll. Her shoulders sagged and her eyes were dull. She looked tired.

“I said: he’s doing what I can’t,” he spoke up, “going after Negan.” Rick turned his gaze back out to the windshield, searching for something. Anything. “He’s brave, you gotta give him that much. Maybe he’s Shane’s son too.”

“Rick!” Michonne scolded. It was just one word, but it was the only word needed. She’d used that same tone on Carl many times before. “He’s being an idiot,” Michonne continued.

“Yeah,” Rick sighed, “just like his dad.”

Their eyes met and Michonne gave him a sad smile before she turned back to the road. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she said. “I’m scared, Rick.”

“Me too.” His hand found her knee, just like it did the night before. “He’s gonna be ok.”

Just then a loud bang rang through the air, followed by another, and then many more.

“Michonne, gunshots!”

“I’m on it.”

Michonne pulled off to the side of the road and Rick was out of the car before it stopped moving. They ran into the woods towards the sound of the gunshots. Rick’s heart was pounding in his chest. His mind was racing with images of his son hurt and bleeding. He ran harder and faster, keeping an eye out for anyone lurking in the shadows. Michonne was right by his side.

They came to a small clearing and saw Heath and Tara crouched behind a large boulder. Their guns were raised and aimed at a woman who was shooting right back at them. Rick caught Michonne’s eyes.

“Savior?” Michonne asked.

“I’d bet…” Rick responded.

“She can lead us to the sanctuary,” Michonne reasoned.

Rick nodded, “Exactly.”

“I got her. Cover me.”

Michonne set off towards the woman and Rick edged closer to the boulder. Tara turned in his direction and they made eye contact. He held a finger to his lips and then pointed in Michonne’s direction. Tara looked where he pointed and then turned back to him. She nodded in understanding and whispered the plan to Heath, who was exchanging gunfire with the suspected savior. All three of them trained their weapons on the woman and waited for Michonne to make her move.

Suddenly Michonne emerged from the woods and attacked the woman from behind. Within seconds the samurai had the woman on her stomach with her spindly arms secured behind her back. Rick noticed that Michonne still had her sword sheathed and her gun holstered. That’s my girl, he thought with a small smile.

Tara and Heath came out from behind the boulder and Rick ran over to Michonne who was now kneeling with her knee in the woman’s back. He touched her arm lightly before squatting to address the woman lying on the ground.

“We have some questions, and I think you’re the one who is gonna give us the answers.” Rick cocked his gun and placed it against the woman’s head. “Where’s the sanctuary?”

The sound of several guns cocking caught everyone’s attention. At least ten men had them surrounded, all of them with guns drawn.

“Well,” a man Rick recognized as a Savior spoke up, “what have we here? If it isn’t Negan’s little bitch, Rick.” He raised his gun and pointed it at Rick’s head. “Drop your weapon, bitch.”

“I’m not dropping shit,” Rick spat out.

“Don’t you ever learn boy?” The Savior laughed a dry humorless chuckle, “You can’t win.” He leaned in to Rick and whispered, tauntingly, “We’ve got your son.”

Up next is @iminyjo with Day 10.

@richonnejustdesserts

[richonnejustdesserts]

RJD General Fanfiction Navigation is now available!

So that RJD is more accessible for everyone, we’ve created a general tags navigation page. Through this page you can observe and navigate through a list of authors (both non-members and members of the Richonne Just Dessert’s writing team), type of fanfiction, as well as navigation by character and by season! This list also contains our list of contests and challenges. With the continued positivity and creativity within the Richonne fandom, this list can only grow larger!

This page can be accessed via the drop-down menus on the side of our home page, where you can also access our ‘Navigation by Specific Theme’ list, too, via the ‘Fanfic Navigation’ drop-down. 

Happy reading!

[richonnejustdesserts]

[Master Post]

Twenty-five festive Richonne FanFics celebrating each day in December leading up to Christmas Day. All fics are written by the talented writers:

@nyese3529 , @reciprocityfic, @cranesinthe-sky , @lovedmoviesb, @dirtiebirdie17 , @tigerwalk3 , @chonne , @iminyjo , @mayyoualways , @lyraverse @avintagekiss24 @pennylane714

Day 1 by @nyese3529 Day 2 by @reciprocityfic Day 3 by @cranesinthe-sky Day 4 by @lovedmoviesb Day 5 by @dirtiebirdie17 Day 6 by @tigerwalk3 Day 7 by @chonne Day 8 by @iminyjo  Day 9 by @mayyoualways Day 10 by @avintagekiss24 Day 11 by @pennylane714 Day 12 by @lovedmoviesb Day 13 by @lyraverse Day 14 by @tigerwalk3 Day 15 by @nyese3529 Day 16 by @dirtiebirdie17 Day 17 by @reciprocityfic Day 18 by @cranesinthe-sky Day 19 by @avintagekiss24 Day 20 by @chonne Day 21 by @tigerwalk3 Day 22 by @iminyjo Day 23 by @mayyoualways Day 24 by @pennylane714 Day 25 by @avintagekiss24

Bonus fic by @blacklitchick

[richonnejustdesserts]

Twenty-five festive Richonne FanFics celebrating each day in December leading up to Christmas Day. All fics are written by the talented writers:

Day 1 by @nyese3529 Day 2 by @reciprocityfic Day 3 by @cranesinthe-sky Day 4 by @lovedmoviesb Day 5 by @dirtiebirdie17 Day 6 by @tigerwalk3 Day 7 by @chonne Day 8 by @iminyjo  Day 9 by @mayyoualways

[richonnejustdesserts]

Twenty-five festive Richonne FanFics celebrating each day in December leading up to Christmas Day. All fics are written by the talented writers:

Day 19 by @avintagekiss24 Day 20 by @chonne Day 21 by @tigerwalk3 Day 22 by @iminyjo Day 23 by @mayyoualways Day 24 by @pennylane714 Day 25 by @avintagekiss24

25 Days Of Richonne Tumblr Exclusive Bonus

Yuletide Medicine  by @blacklitchick

[richonnejustdesserts]

Big things planned for 2018!!

So we have a lot of incredible things planned for 2018, Dear Followers! With an influx for more delectable Richonne FanFics, we will be opening up the RJD Writing Network to help fill the fandom needs!

If you’re interested in joining the RJD Writing Network, please fill out the application form before Friday January 5th 2018 (11:59 EST).

We are looking for a few new members that would be willing to commit to taking part in RJD challenges and events in addition to prompt fills for RJD followers by working with our existing team to provide awesome content for the Richonne community.

The writing network is about team collaboration and about peer to peer support and engagement. It is primarily a safe place for individual and team members to come and present ideas and find support. We strongly encourage our writers to make use of the resources we give to them.

Requirements:

Take part in at least one event/prompt fill, every other month, as well as one team event in a year.

You have experience and have written Richonne-specific fanfiction before. As much as it is important that you are a strong writer, we stand by our rule that a writer should have a strong understanding of the Richonne pairing as well as Rick and Michonne’s characterization.

Must be 18 years of age and older.

Communication! Communication is key. We are looking for people who will be diligent at their communication.

Apply Here [x]

[richonnejustdesserts]

Day 5 - Baby, It’s Cold Outside by @dirtiebirdie17

A major family event is made all the more special by an unexpected snow storm and a special surprise.

[richonnejustdesserts]

Tracks

written by: @chonne prompt: one finds the other’s journal on the train. words: 1831 rating: T (for coarse language) summary: in the busy rush of the day’s commute, michonne leaves her bag on the train.

The grassy plains thin out with the open fields and farmhouses before being completely replaced by large factories which are, in turn, replaced by metal framing, tall buildings which he wasn’t entirely acquainted with. Rick rarely found himself in the city unless it was on official business. And he never had the time to see the sights. Nor did he find that he particularly wanted to.

If he averts his eyes from the glass, people-watching gets a hold of him. Force of habit, perhaps. Distracting himself with the questions and answers drawn along the lines of people’s faces until they caught his eyes and he’d look back out the window.

It was going to be a long ride.

The noise of the wheels on the track sends him to sleep eventually. The feel of leather under his palms, the soft drone of the radio and the wind hitting his face from an open window are the last thing that go through his head. God, does he miss his car. He won’t be grateful for the sleep he’s catching up on, but it’ll be worth something.

He wakes with a rude shudder and the blunt realisation that he slept at all. The train jolts to a stop, an unclear announcement being made over the speakers and he only just makes out that it’s not his stop. Rubbing at his drowsy eyes, disgruntled, he sits tight. Nearly everyone leaves, and they’re replaced with a crowd double their size. An influx of suits, briefcases, chatter, and suffocating colognes and perfumes. Seats go quickly, some people resort to standing while the seat next to him stays empty.

A woman carrying files upon files walks into the coach and past the people standing, annoyingly in the way, and relatively uncaring, engrossed in their conversations. She can’t help the lone file that slides off the top of the pile – even with all her concentrated effort – and lands in his lap. The frustration flies off of her in a thousand directions as she throws her bag down in the empty seat next to him.

“Sorry,” she says, muttering something else under her breath before pursing her lips.

“It’s no big deal,” he puts the file back where it belongs, feeling slightly guilty for it. “Sure seems important.”

“Not that important,” she says quietly, putting her head back and closing her eyes. The train starts moving again. He doesn’t have to look too long – infer too much – to see that she’s tired.

He can only people-watch for so long. Although, at this point, it’s probably not people-watching, but rather, him-watching-this-one-particular-person. In the cramped heat of the car, he finds it hard to ignore the soft, pleasant smell coming off of her. He finds it hard to ignore the composure in every fibre of her, her hair neatly in place, her clothes even – ironed to all the tiny corners and edges – her posture even in her frustration. He finds it hard to ignore that even through all that, her one moment of respite, with her eyes close and her neck bent out that way, she still doesn’t seem vulnerable. It gets to a point where he actively stops himself from thinking about where her stop is, where home is. Who she goes home to, if anyone at all.

She opens her eyes and he quickly looks back out the window, only to see her reflection looking at him. He shuffles awkwardly in his seat, accidentally brushing his arm against hers and he’s annoyed that he noticed it like it meant something. He’s a little more than flustered, but nothing happens. In the window, he watches her shoulders shift, her collarbone rising and falling until he dares look back to see her eyes shut again.

But he can’t help himself, in the heat of the car, his earlier unwanted nap, from falling right back into another one. Drowsy from before, uncomfortable as usual, the same movement and noises, with an extra steady breath next to him. He can’t seem to keep his eyes open and he begrudgingly succumbs to it. An extra warmth –

There’s no rude start this time, just a groan and a stretch that the small space accommodates. When he comes to properly, rubbing his face and smoothing over his eyes, he can already hear that the train is emptier and the stranger next to him wasn’t there anymore. Gone with the masses.

But – her bag.

He sits up straight all of a sudden; a momentary panic. He grabs it and feels that the seat is still warm. Sticking his head out into the aisle in a last hopeless effort, he sees that there’s no one there. She’s not there. Gone.

So, he opens the bag. Tentatively. Carefully, giving the contents a glance over. No phone. A notebook of some sort. A purse – that’s what he goes for. He finds an ID card and a business card (which says she’s a lawyer), and he scrutinises them over and over, reading the name over in his head. The train stops.

And he knows this is where he gets off. He hesitates again for a second before rushing off eventually, bag in hand.

Business is short, finished and done. He has to explain the fact that he has a bag that clearly isn’t his though, says he’s just doing his job.

The bed in his hotel room isn’t particularly comfortable, but it’s enough for him to catch up on all the sleep he’s been missing. As he turns over onto his stomach, he sees the black bag again, leaning on the bedside table. He’s not that tired.

He reaches out for it, pulls it to him and tells himself he’s not prying as he does just that. Duly noted is the fact the bag does vaguely smell like her. Or maybe he’s trying too hard. Propping himself up on his elbows, he pulls out the small, worn, moleskin notebook. Rick finds himself staring at it back to front before opening it. Out loud, to no one, he says:

“Michonne.”

Hm.

For a moment, he thinks he’s being stupid. To be so damned captivated. Shane always teased him for being a romantic. Rick would never admit it out loud to him that he was, and he knew it. He smiles to himself.

She writes in cursive, rushed and only vaguely legible to him. There are pages of work-related events, colleagues that annoy her, hangouts with her friends. Pages on visiting her family back – he discovers – his end of town. To-do lists, shopping lists. A particularly short entry on a break-up. A longer one after a five-day gap about that same break up, he makes out. And then nothing. Empty pages.

Rick quickly ruffles through the empty pages, but something does catch his eye. Random pages in the middle. A flash of things, not writing. His fingers separate the pages, revealing a sketch of a person – nuanced, stealthy, a side profile drawn with that same quality she wrote with. On another page, there is another person – this time, there’s careful attention to the setting – a train car. Another drawing; a young woman reading a book, so incredibly captured and detailed in such a small page. There are so many small sketched, small pieces of people, just going about their daily lives.

He smiles to himself again, more in wonder this time. But he gives in to sleep, light still on, the notebook sitting warm in his hand. The last thought that passes through his head is him remembering which stop she got on at.

XXXXX

He’s on the earliest train he could catch. And he’s caught in the rush of people going to work, which is good, he figures. No one even stops to notice or care that the bag he’s holding isn’t his. In an ideal situation, he hoped he would find her again, on the train, in the throngs of people. The stops roll past and the train fills but he never sees her. He tries to not get too antsy, waits and finds himself relying back on habit, and instinct. He’s intent on staying awake, too.

She never really shows. It pains him slightly to think that she could very well be on the train, but it was hopeful that they would see each other again in the crowds.

The stop comes up. He follows everyone out of the train, not sure exactly where he is, but it didn’t matter that much. The station is crowded, people running, people not. He moves through the crowd to find a small recess for a breath, and for more personal space.

Like a perfect copy of yesterday. Less files, though. A different coloured blouse, her hair tied back loosely. No bag.

It rolls out of his mouth – he shouts her name and can only hope he’s saying it right.

She whips around, startled. Her eyes skipping between faces. She starts to turn away.

“Michonne!”

The confusion on her face dissipated when their eyes meet. It takes a good few seconds before she recognises him, although only vaguely, doubtful. He bites his tongue in an effort not to smile at just how silly and cliché the whole moment is playing out. Wondrously, through her nerves she makes her way to him and him to her. The crowds have thinned themselves out slightly, and she spots the bag under his arm by the time they meet. Relief washes over her, a big tired smile forming on her face. He hands it to her.

“Never thought I’d see it again,” he finds that he can’t really reply, so he just smiles at her. “Too bad I cancelled my credit cards already.”

He tries not to get too offended when she opens her bag to look through it, making sure everything is there.

“Those are great drawings, by the way,” he almost-accidentally blurts out. She looks at him, raising a brow.

“You’re nosy,” she feels herself blushing. “But thank you.”

“Sorry,” he tries. “Force of habit. Had to know how to find you, too.”

“And then some,” she says, not entirely knowing what she means herself. Truth be told, she does remember him. But she smiles at him again. She’s late. But – “maybe I could draw you some time…” she trails off.

“Rick,” he fills in for her.

“Rick.”

“No,” he laughs. “I’m fine, but you’re a great talent. It’d be put to better use on someone else.”

It crosses her mind that she wanted to draw him yesterday, head lolling on his shoulder, asleep, being rocked by the train. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to capture the gleam of his eyes under his shut lids – it’d be his secret. But she keeps that to herself. She can tell he’s flustered. She hopes he can’t tell that she’s only slightly more than intrigued.

But then again, she is late.

“You didn’t leave your number in here, did you?” she jokes.

Well shit, Grimes. Good idea. 

a/n: special thanks to @constablemichonnes and @lahsportsdiary for all their help and inspiration! no zombies!au. also, my deepest apologies for how long this took, and for the no-closure ending.

[richonnejustdesserts]

Prompt #4

Rick and Michonne are actors in a show and their characters start a relationship and somehow they start to develop feelings for each other in real life (requested by- anon)

Behind the Scenes

Written by: @lovedmoviesb​ | love.devil.movies.baby

Rating: T

“We should probably talk about what happened.”

The words came out louder than he intended them to, a product of his still-frayed nerve endings and the adrenaline from practically chasing her down.

“Rick, it’s ok. I really don’t think we need to.” She assumed a wide-eyed, doe-in-the-headlights expression, her dark irises whipping quickly to his face and away.

“Michonne, we really do,” it was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that Rick was the one to insist on conversation. He was not generally a huge advocate of sharing his feelings. However, desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I get it, Rick, I do,” her voice was gentler now, the sultry tone she used during their serious scenes, the kind the fans went wild for. Rick had seen the posts online, the fanatic dissections of the chemistry he and his real-life best friend had onscreen. He’d always figured it was just that: friendship.

Today’s scene had blown that illusion to bits.

“I need to explain,” he paused, suddenly realizing that he must have chased her off the set and halfway up the stairs to her trailer. She paused, mid-escape, her hand was on the door handle, her body half turned away from him.

“There’s nothing to explain,” desperation crept into her voice. Rick felt panic rip through him. Michonne had never sought to avoid him before. “I get it,” she glanced over her shoulder, still unable to meet his eyes. “Guys can’t always control their…reactions.”

It was Rick’s turn to blush, the embarrassment from their shoot this morning burning into his cheeks. “It’s not that. Not just that,” he amended. “It’s never…” he took a deep breath, steadying himself. Dozens of people were milling around onset. He was not eager to have them all know. “Can we please go inside and talk about this?” he asked Michonne, his expression pleading.

He could see her cracking, taking pity on him. “All right,” she said quietly, swinging the door open. She walked ahead of him, climbing the stairs, her hips swaying. It was all he could do not to stare. He knew what the skin there felt like now, knew that his hands almost fit completely around her trim waist, that other parts of her caused his palms to overflow.

He shook his head. He was in enough trouble as it was. This was his best friend, his co-star, his leading lady. He needed to get this under control for the sake of the show and their friendship.

Her trailer smelled the way it always did, like cocoa butter lotion and whatever tea she drank this morning. It brought immediate comfort. Rick breathed deep, steadying himself.

“What is it you wanted to say?” she sat on the couch in one corner, her arms crossed over her breasts. Rick cautiously sat next to her, incredibly aware of their proximity. He never had to consider whether he was crossing a line with Michonne before, whether his presence was wanted. It was off-putting to see her avoiding contact with him.

Rick opened his mouth, determined to get this conversation going. “First off, I’m sorry,” he began, his southern accent sounding rough to his ears after a whole morning of using his character’s cultured tones. He plowed ahead. “I’ve had sex scenes before,” it was an odd announcement, but it felt necessary.

“I know,” Michonne laughed lightly. Rick felt himself smile. She’d been on set that day, seen the awkwardness unfold. What should have been a routine make-out scene had ended in a bloody lip. The story was now infamous on set.

“My point is, that’s never happened before.” He drummed his hands on his legs nervously.

“Jessie didn’t get your engine going?” there was too much glee in Michonne’s carefully controlled tone. It sparked something in him. She never before had spoken about her opinion of the whole Jessie-fiasco, even as controversy roiled around her. Michonne was classy to the end.

“You know I didn’t like her.” Rick rolled his eyes. Just the thought of the bottle-blonde actress made him shudder. The fans hadn’t liked her at all. Thankfully, they hadn’t had to suffer her presence very long.

“She liked you,” Michonne was grinning now, reverting to the familiar territory of humor. Her arms uncrossed and she let them drop down to the cushions beside them.

He smiled, “Maybe. It didn’t really matter.” Rick had happily put the incident behind him, grateful to be out of the tabloids and celebrity blogs.

Michonne nodded then, her eyes finding his for a long moment. “Well, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I would have been kind of insulted, if you didn’t have a … reaction.” Michonne giggled again, a nervous sound Rick hadn’t heard before. “I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

And here was the crux of the problem. Rick was sure it would happen again. The character he played had finally realized his feelings for Michonne’s character. The scene was a long time in the making, a heavy kiss that moved to the bedroom. The lights were nothing new, the crew was nothing new, Michonne was nothing new.

His reaction to her was completely new.

Somewhere in between take 3 and 4, kissing Michonne had gone from a carefully staged act to something altogether different. Her lips on his were so plush, her skin so warm and pliant, and the gasps she made in between breaths…

He was completely worked up by the time the scene changed to the bedroom. When he had to climb on top of his co-star and best friend, she noticed. Her professionalism carried them both through the embarrassment, but one glaring fact remained.

“Michonne, we’ve worked on this show for, what now? 4 seasons together?” he asked her.

She nodded cautiously, shifting on the couch cushions. Her leg brushed his. She did not pull back.

“And we’ve been friends for almost all of it,” Rick recounted. Their relationship had been easy, natural from the first day they had stepped onto this set. It made work easy, pleasant, something he looked forward to everyday, even when the workdays spanned over 12 hours. Her sense of humor, her work ethic, her kindness, her activism, they were all pieces of a person that Rick valued deeply.  

“Best friends,” she agreed, licking her lips nervously.

“I can tell you anything?” his heart was racing, liable to simply burst through his ribcage in a splash of gore that the effects department would have been envious of.

“Rick, of course,” her concern won out again. She shifted her body towards him.

“I realized something today,” he started slowly, hoping she’d catch on. She stared back at him, her long lashes fluttering. “Michonne,” Rick began again, stuttering. “I—”

“Maybe you just need to rehearse,” she suggested, cutting him off.

“Rehearse?” his pulse was thrumming in his ears, blood pounding through his veins.

“Kissing each other…it’s new,” she was talking much too fast now. “I mean, I felt something too, but it’s probably because we’ve never done it before. And both of us are attractive, so the first time it was bound to happen. Maybe we just need to rehearse.”

“Wait a minute,” Rick shook his head, attempting to understand her point. “What do you mean you felt something too?”

She flushed suddenly, her dark skin going coppery beneath her cheeks. “We’re only human. It was a good kiss.”

This felt like a sinful understatement. The echo of it still lingered on his lips. “Just a good kiss?” he was desperate for answers.

“The show has been working up to it. We didn’t think it would happen, especially after the whole Jessie mess,” Michonne showed her cards again, scoffing around the woman’s name. “It’s understandable that we got a little emotional.” Her eyes drifted again. She picked at a stray thread on the couch.

“So did you feel something physical, or emotional?” Rick asked, pinning her with his gaze. She held eye contact, her breathing becoming erratic beneath her costume. He’d seen it hundreds of times since they’d started on this journey, knew every stitch of fabric that made it up.

Now he wondered what was beneath it.

“Because,” he ventured, his voice cracking again beneath his southern accent. He wondered vaguely if this would somehow be easier to do in his character’s voice. “I felt a little bit of both. More than a little bit.”

“What do you mean?” her voice was that throaty whisper again. Heat coursed through him.

“I mean, I realized today that you’re not just my best friend.” He took a shaky breath at the same time that Michonne let out a gasp. “I think I have feelings for you Michonne.”

The statement hung in the air, suspended between the two of them.

“You realized that now?” she clearly did not believe him. He didn’t blame her. They’d spent years together and he’d never let on even a hint. All of his affection for her, all of his kind deeds, the time spent together, escorting her up red carpets and sitting close to her in dark theaters, it could all be covered under the guise of work, or friendship. He had even convinced himself.

His body knew better. He knew better now.

“I think I’ve known for a while.” The admission was like a weight had been lifted, even as she stared in disbelief. “I just finally couldn’t deny it anymore. Not after today. Not after—"

Before he finished his sentence, Michonne leaned forward and roughly seized the back of his head. Her fingers laced through the curls at the nape of his neck as she dragged him forward, pressing her lips to his for the second time that day. Rick froze, his body paralyzed, his mind struggling to catch up.

Her intentions became clear when Michonne’s other arm gripped high on his thigh, coming dangerously close.

“Michonne,” her name slipped from between his gritted teeth when she pulled back to breathe. He was teetering dangerously on the edge. There were no cameras in here, no sound crew, no lighting, but Michonne was still kissing him.

Her response was to crawl into his lap, pushing him backwards across her couch. Her lips found his, coaxing his mouth open. Rick’s mind raced, wondering what was happening, torn between stopping her to talk it out and wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tight against him.

She stretched across him, her hips aligned with his waist, leaning forward and arching her back. Rick’s control held on by a thread. With great effort, he managed to speak.

“’Chonne, what are you doing?” he opened his eyes and took her in, her round dark eyes and long lashes, her full lips and beautiful nose, the contrast of her skin on his. Her breathing was heavy, her chest heaving. Her mouth fell open as she looked down at him.

“What took you so long?” she asked quietly. Her fingers curled into the front of his costume, holding on tight.

Rick sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist. Michonne sat still in his lap, her eyes wildly searching his face. In answer, Rick kissed her gently on the lips, then the forehead, then her cheek. Her breath hitched with every display of affection.

“I don’t know, ‘Chonne,” he whispered, delighting in the shudder that went through her. “I wish I’d realized it months ago. Years ago.” Four years of wasted time, of avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Are you sure?” her expression was serious, even as she trembled in his arms.

“Yes,” the answer came quickly and easily. It had taken him years to realize it, but there was no going back now. “Do you feel the same?” he needed her answer.

She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I do,” her quiet confession set something in motion that Rick hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for their whole relationship.

Seamlessly, he flipped her over. His name escaped her lips on a gasp as he settled on top of her. He kissed her again, grateful for the privacy of her trailer, for the opportunity to explore his feelings away from prying eyes. A thought occurred to him.

“To be clear,” he started, lifting up enough to look at her. She was panting, her lips parted, painting such an enticing picture that Rick nearly lost his train of thought. “This isn’t rehearsal, right?”

She laughed again, the sound ricocheting off the walls of her trailer. “No,” she insisted, pulling him back down to her. To drive her point home, she curled her fingers into the waistband of his pants, grinning as he groaned at the sensation. He shed the offending object quickly, tossing it to the ground with no consideration for the costume department. Michonne’s clothing joined in quick succession.

There was no embarrassment this time, no interruptions. Rick didn’t struggle to avert his eyes from every inch of her. He kissed her dark skin, laving his tongue over her, listening to the sounds she made. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her legs ran up and down his waist, her whole body tightening beneath him like a spring.

“Rick,” she whined his name, rolling her hips into his, consciously seeking out the hardness that had so embarrassed them both just a few hours ago. “Please,” she pled with him.

Happily, he indulged her.

The two of them would have been mortified to know how thin the walls of the trailer were, or how fragile the shocks were. They were too occupied to notice the small crowd that had gathered just outside.

“About time,” the grip, a muscular and blunt redhead named Abe announced unceremoniously.

A camera man named Glenn agreed. The two of them paused outside the trailer for a few seconds, watching it bounce.

“Guess we should just take a lunch break,” Glenn sat his camera down, leading the rest of the crew off.

Inside, Rick and Michonne collapsed into each other. Rick managed to roll behind her on the couch, curving his body around his.

“I think we’re going to have another problem with the scene,” she exhaled, arching her back into him.

“What’s that?” he kissed the back of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent.

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to control myself,” she rolled her hips backwards against him.

“Tease,” he accused, his energy returning.

“Who’s teasing?” Michonne countered, spinning around to kiss him again. Rick wrapped her in his arms, all thought of work forgotten.

[richonnejustdesserts]

Teacher’s Pet : A Richonne Round Robin Fanfic

A small town sheriff and preschool teacher find love thanks to the cutest little matchmaker around. [RATED: T]

Chapter 8 (written by @pastelogramm)

“Ugh, Dad. Not this song, again.”

Carl was reprimanding his father on his choice of music. They bantered amongst each other as Michonne and Judith delightfully peered over to both of them in the car. They were all cozily nestled into Rick’s SUV on a weekend trip. It was spring break and the windows were cracked open to allow the first cool breezes of the season to seep in the car.

The night before, all of them had carefully crafted their traveling playlist over pizza from Glenn’s.Carl and Michonne bonded over their song selections, bouncing band names off each other well past Carl’s bed time. They happened to have a large amount of classic rock in common. Michonne would hip Carl to Nu Jazz and 90’s RnB and Carl would introduce Michonne to newer artist and Alternative Rock. Now Carl was giving Rick a hard time over his preferences, a mixture of Rockabilly and Folk tunes.

“You know I have to play this song everytime we go fishing, Carl,” Rick playfully scoffed and snapped his fingers along to the banjos strumming at a high tempo. Not allowing Carl’s digs to get him down. “It’s tradition, practically draws the fish to us.”

Under his breath, Carl chided just loud enough for him to hear, “Yeah, more like draws them away.”

Michonne chimed in with a loud laugh “Carl, his tastes aren’t all that bad. It leaves something to be desired but, not that bad.” She playfully tapped Rick’s knee which Rick reciprocated with a wink. He savored the moment to soak in Michonne’s features, made even more exquisite by the sunrise falling over them. They’d been on the road since early morning in order to make a quick stop off at Michonne’s parent’s house, and then to the countryside for some mid-day fishing.  

Carl placed his elbow on Michonne’s headrest to speak over the blaring music. “But you actually have taste, Michonne. I like your songs. Hey, I can tolerate Judith’s kiddy music. But Dad’s, I can’t stand. Let’s not give him the aux cord next time.”

Judith, previously too distracted by doodling in her memory book, peeked from under it in defense of her father “I actually like Daddy’s songs, Carl. They remind me of Old McDonald.”

Everybody burst out in roarious laughter and Carl exclaimed, “Exactly, Judith.”

As the song came to an end, Michonne glanced at the phone that held their custom playlist and smirked. “Well Carl, you’ll be happy to know, a song is coming up that we all seemed to like.”

Carl, knowing that they agreed on very few songs, was instantly excited. As the beginning of the song faded in, everybody in the car seemed to be filled with a sense of anticipation. All four of them were enjoying their time with one another, and they knew this weekend would be no different.

I looked out this morning and the sun was gone

Turned on some music to start my day

I lost myself in a familiar song

I closed my eyes and I slipped away

xxxx

Carl and Judith had drifted off to sleep for some time, leaving Rick and Michonne to talk about their day. As suspected, the rumors surrounding their “scandal” of a relationship had died down within a matter of days, leaving Rick and Michonne to delve deeper into their relationship, what it meant for them and the kids.

“I haven’t seen my mom in while. Besides facetiming, of course. It’ll be good to see her in the flesh, and for her to see you.” She rested her hand over his headrest, fiddling with his chocolate curls. “With all of the things I’ve been telling her about you and the kids, she was chewing me out to meet you all.” Michonne eyed Rick with a questioning expression. “You ready?”

Rick nodded, “Yeah. I’m excited to meet her too. Albeit nervous.” Rick gripped the steering wheel. “I feel like a high schooler knocking on my date’s door.”

Michonne giggled,“She’s gonna love you, Rick. She already loves you.” With that look, Rick was at ease. Michonne knew exactly where to reach to get him in a calm place.

The GPS sounded that they were all less that 10 minutes away from Michonne’s old house, waking Carl and Judith from their deep sleep.

Judith sleepily growled from the backseat, “So what is your mommy like Michonne?”

Michonne glanced at the rearview mirror and into her inquisitive face, Judith was the most excited to meet her mother. “People say she’s a lot like me, Judy. She inspired me to become an artist, you know? She is a sculptor in her spare time.”

“So there are two Mrs. A’s?” Judith’s eyes went wide and excited. She didn’t know if she could handle the prospect of another kind, creative, smart and pretty Michonne.

Michonne replied with a grin, “Well, I guess you could say that, Judy.”

The car pulled into the driveway of a sage green two-story house. In the front, there was a screened porch with a couple of rocking chairs adorning it. Towards the back, you could make out a garden that was sprouting first blooms of vegetation. It all looked very tidy and homey.

A figure exited from the screen porch and out to greet them. It was a slender, older woman with long silver locs pulled into a ponytail. As far away as she was, she had a presence about her that was joyful and polished. She was the exact mirror of Michonne.

“There she is!” Michonne barely waited for the car to come to a complete stop before making a beeline toward her mother.  

“Is that my baby coming out of that car!?” The woman warmly approached with open arms and embraced her child, rocking with her, pulling away solely to get a look at her face.  

Meanwhile, Carl, Judith, and Rick pooled out of the car and gathered around while they were still locked in a hug and exchanging pleasantries. Rick gazed at the pair and he could see the deep relationship these two had.

“Is Daddy still on that business trip in Macon?” Michonne inquired.

Michonne’s mother shook her head in feigned disappointment, “Yes, you know he would be here if he could. That man is always busy.”

Michonne mused, “I know. Maybe we can double back on our way back to King County and catch some time with him.”

After they parted, Rick offered his hand to shake in the most southern gentlemen type of way and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Anthony. I’m Rick.”

Michonne’s mother allowed his hand to hang in the air for a spell and smirked.“I don’t do handshakes, baby. We hug over here.” With that, she pulled him in for the biggest bear hug. “And my name is Roseline.” She smiled that same 1000 watt smile that Michonne had.”Michonne has told me so much about you. All good things.”

Rick, delighted by how welcoming Michonne’s mom was being replied,“Yes ma-, I mean, Miss Roseline.”

Michonne walked over to the children and put her arms around them, “Mama, I’d like for you to meet Rick’s children, Carl and Judith.”

“Of course! I’ve heard so much about the two of you! Over here is Mr. Baseball Star. And here is the budding artist. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” She reached in to hug both of the children which they warmly reciprocated. Judith had stars in her eyes. She couldn’t imagine a world that housed two Mrs. A’s. She was absolutely smitten.

“I made this for you!” Judith pulled out a folded up piece of paper that she was hiding in her overalls and presented it to Roseline. “My Daddy says never come to somebody’s house empty-handed.”

Roseline unfolded the piece of paper and examined the drawing. It was a picture of everybody that was in the car that day in crayon. On the top was scribbled “tank yu for habing us.”

Roseline was over the moon about the drawing and kneeled down to Judith’s level. “This is so beautiful, baby! Thank you.” Roseline pulled her in for yet another hug. “I’m putting this on my fridge as soon as a get in the house.”  

“Your children are absolutely precious, and mannerable too.”

“Thank you,” Rick replied.

Roseline chuckled “I remember when Michonne was young like you two. She was really interested in those samurai movies and comics. All the time, kicking, using brooms as swords and such…Tearing up my house.” Roseline playfully glared at Michonne. “But she was just a sweet and kind as she could be.”

Rick laughed at Roseline’s recounting. Imagining the now calm and collected Michonne, breaking vases from kicking in the house. “You don’t strike me as the cutting up kind, ‘Chonne.”

“The Arts settled me, Rick.” Michonne shook her head and shot a sly grin at her mom, a little embarrassed that she was spilling so much information so quickly.

Roseline leaned into her daughter for a side hug, “Oh yes, I have so much to tell you about Michonne, she’s got so many stories. We’re gonna have fun, Rick.”

Rick’s voice grew bubbly, “I really would like that Miss Roseline.” As he passed a look over to Michonne, Rick was amazed at the woman before him. He wanted to hear all of the things about her that she’d glanced over about herself. Absolutely all of it.

“Well, I was in the kitchen since early this morning and made some breakfast for you all so that’s time for plenty of stories. You can’t go fishing on an empty stomach can you?”

Carl, who had been complaining of hunger pangs for about an hour immediately piped up, “We sure can’t.”

Roseline chuckled at his comment. “I can already tell this boy can eat, I like that!”

xxxx

Roseline had prepared a large spread for her guests. Fried catfish, eggs, grits with cheese, biscuits from scratch, and many other things were on the menu. Afterward, they lounged around in Roseline’s Garden.Carl was paging through some of Michonne’s comics that she’d dug out from her old room and Judith had stolen Michonne away for a moment to teach her how to make pressed flowers for her memory book. Rick and Roseline opted to stay in the kitchen while Rick volunteered to clear the table.

Roseline took a moment to eye Rick down with a slick grin. “Rick Grimes, Rick Grimes…Well, I see you have your cowboy boots, but where are your riding chaps?”

Rick threw his head back and laughed, Michonne had mentioned all of the wise cracks Roseline would make about his name, the modern cowboy at its finest. Rick shot back,“They’re at the dry cleaners. Next time I’ll bring along my horse, Silver.”

Roseline fell back against her chair and laughed cackled, then hummed, “Now, usually my husband would be the one to ask these questions, but in his absence, I gotta know. What are your intentions with my daughter, Cowboy Rick?”

Scraping leftover food into the trash, Rick’s eyes began to crinkle at the corners and with some pause, he became serious and faced her. “Honestly, Roseline. I really like your daughter. She’s making me a very happy man.”

“I know you do, I can see by the way you look at her.” Roseline fidgeted with her fingers and glanced over to a photo of Michonne with a floral dress, missing teeth, and thick, bushy hair. “She is something else, my baby girl. You’ve got a good one.”

“I know that too. And it’s never my intention to hurt her.” Rick’s southern drawl became more labored as he sat down at the table next to Roseline, wanting to cut straight to the point. “Miss Roseline, I know that the way we met might have caused some alarm with you, but I assure you that it’s not something to be worried about. We’re being careful about it, and I would never want to endanger Michonne’s career or good name.”

Roseline smiled and leaned in, “My baby is grown Rick, I know that. But that doesn’t stop me from worrying about her. Down there in King County all by herself, I was nervous. And then she told me about you, and I was even more nervous. I didn’t want her to get hurt, and I know a lot of women who do get hurt in those types of situations.”

Rick nodded in understanding, knowing that their beginning predicament, a teacher dating her student’s father, did not sound appealing on paper.

“But, I see now.” She looked out toward the screen porch at a Michonne and Judith marveling over their new pressed flowers. “You and your kids are bringing so much joy to her life. So, I thank you.”

Rick stood up to catch Michonne waving at the two of them and waved back. “The feeling is very much mutual. I’m thankful that we found each other.”

Xxx

The stay at Roseline’s house was short lived, but full of laughs and catching up. Roseline sent them on their way with a ton of leftovers for the rest of the trip. They all promised they would stop by after fishing to meet up with her again, and meet Michonne’s father, Makenson.

After about an hour more of driving, they had finally made it to the lake house where they’d be spending a couple of days. It was a sight to behold, a quaint little log cabin nestled next to some of the clearest water where little to no vacationers frequented. The lush green grass surrounding the lake was still dewy from an early morning rain and you could smell the fragrant flowers in the midst.

Michonne, taking in the scenery, inhaled all of that fresh country air, “This is stunning, Rick.”

Rick replied, “Isn’t it? We haven’t been up here in a long time. As a matter of fact, this is Judith’s first time here, and yours of course.”

The group quickly packed up their belongings in the cabin and made their way to the lake, fishing supplies in tow. As they neared, Carl got the idea to challenge Judith to a race.

“Race you to that fishing sign, Judes!” and with that, he blasted off, with Judith not too far behind him.

Rick yelled behind his children, “Careful you two, the ground is still wet!”

They paid the yelling no mind, Carl and Judith blasted at lightning speed toward the fishing spot leaving Rick and Michonne in their dust. Judith was not one to play with a challenge and was able to keep up a good speed with Carl. Until suddenly, she slipped up on the moisture inside her sandals and fell right into dirt softened by that morning’s rain.

“Oh No!” Rick and Michonne yelled in unison as they scurried to see about her.Carl had very quickly realized that his sister had fallen and was right to her rescue.

By the time Rick and Michonne had gotten to Judith she wasn’t crying, as much as disgusted by her yellow pantsuit completely covered in a brown and green muck.  

Michonne kneeled down to her level and began to rub her back, “It’s okay sweetie, it’s alright.”Judith quipped with a twisted face, “Yeah, it’s okay. It’s just so… yucky.” She frantically tried to wipe the mud off her bottoms.

Rick agreed with a chortle whilst examining her, relieved that she was not hurt past a couple of scrapes. “I know, baby. Let’s take you inside to get some new clothes.” He glanced at Michonne and Carl, “Hey Carl, do you mind getting things set up in the meantime while I get Judith cleaned up? Can you teach Michonne a bit while you’re at it, she’s a little, uh, wet behind the ears.” Rick joked and Michonne rolled her eyes playfully. Michonne had never gone fishing before but was always ready to try new things.

Carl nodded, excited to get some one on one time with Michonne. “Yeah, I can teach you how to set up Michonne. It’s really easy.”

Michonne cautioned to Judith,“You sure you’re alright, baby girl? You don’t need us to come and help?”

“I’m okay Ms. A.” Judith answered with a thumb up in the air while being carried away by Rick. Judith was one brave girl, indeed.

Left alone, Carl began to teach Michonne the ins and outs of fishing. In no time they were all settled with their chairs and sitting in front of the lake, rods in hand. Now there was nothing left but the beauty and the still of the lake, and to wait for the fish, already crowded around their fishing area, to bite.

The duo was only waiting for a couple of minutes before Carl whispered,“Hey Michonne, can I tell you something?”

Curiosity piqued, Michonne replied, “Of course, Carl.”

Carl took a moment to prepare himself, “I know you and my Dad haven’t been dating for a whole lot of time so I’m not trying to make this weird or anything, but, I just wanted you to know, I’m glad he’s happy.”

Immediately, Michonne’s heart warmed. “I’m glad you’re okay with it, Carl. Your opinion about this means a lot in this.” She lightly pressured, “Is there anything that brought this about?”

“It’s just… being here reminded me how my Dad was, before the divorce. I don’t really think I could call my Dad… happy at the time. I know he loved us, Judith and I, but something was missing for him. My Dad was alone for a good while… and I was starting to wonder if he was ever gonna find somebody else.” Carl teetered on his words, wondering to himself what the right thing was to say. All that Michonne could manage to do was listen.

“I was worried about him. But, I can see it on his face. He’s happy to be with you. And I’m happy because he’s happy.” Carl beamed, relieved that he was able to say something on his mind for a long time.

“Well, thank you for sharing that, Carl,” Michonne assured him. “Just know that I’m here for you, to talk or, whatever you need.I’m here.”

They were so caught up in their talk that they didn’t hear the zipping of the fishing line getting away from them. Something was biting on the line.

Carl began to pull back on the fishing reel,“I think we got one!”

xxxxx

The end of the weekend was at hand, and the group reluctantly prepared to make a trip back home to King’s County. Michonne passed Rick a cooler of fresh bass and managed to steal a quick peck on his cheek, not realizing that Carl was within view of her. Then she ran back upstairs to double check that she hadn’t forgotten anything before they left.

Rick, with flushed cheeks, walked over to the car and hefted the large cooler, teaming with medium sized bass, into the back of the car with Carl’s help. It was one of the biggest catches they had ever made. All throughout packing, Carl had this huge grin on his face that Rick noticed.

Rick questioned Carl with a little hesitation nudging him, “Is everything alright? I see you grinning.”

Carl, caught, began to blush and looked around, “Nothing… just you and Michonne.”

Carl’s smile was contagious to Rick causing one to spread across his face. “Yeah… are you alright about her?”

“Yeah.” Carl nodded, answering with no hesitation and looked up into his father’s eyes. With all sincerity, he said, “I think she’s one of us.”

That made Rick smile even the more. He was falling for Michonne, and he loved the assurance that his children were seeing the same qualities in her that he was. This all felt so right.

Rick drawled out, patting Carl on the back, “I think she is too.”

“Okay, that’s the last of everything.” Michonne bounded down the stairs with Judith attached to her side, “We’re all ready ready to head out.”

And with that, everybody piled into the car with sights toward Atlanta, and then finally, King County. Everybody enjoyed a comfortable silence. The kind of silence you can only achieve when you are truly at home with somebody.

Judith, tapped Michonne on her shoulder and asked, “Ms. A, would you like to see my memory book?”

Michonne craned her neck to get the book from her “I’d love to, honey.”

Michonne opened the memory book and marveled at this weekend through this little child’s eyes. The pages were full to the brim with drawings of Rick as Old Mcdonald, a picture of Carl, Rick, Judith and Michonne around a lake, a muddy handprint and pressed flowers from her mother’s garden.

The last picture made her well up. It was a picture solely of Michonne, she was adorned with a crown on her head and flowers were at her feet. In scratch letters, the picture was captioned “I luv Ms. A.”

Michonne looked up at all of the people she shared the trip with. These amazing kids who loved her as much as she loved them, and this man who was awakening feelings in her that she hadn’t felt in such a long time. This feeling felt a lot like family, and at that moment, Michonne decided that she would dive into it.

Passing the book back into Judith’s hands Michonne replied, “This is wonderful, Sweetheart.”    

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| 

Chapter 7 |

[richonnejustdesserts]

Teacher’s Pet : A Richonne Round Robin Fanfic

A small town sheriff and preschool teacher find love thanks to the cutest little matchmaker around. [RATED: T]

Chapter 9 (written by @reciprocityfic)

Fridays were quickly becoming Rick’s favorite day of the week.

There was, of course, the ubiquitous appeal of Friday bringing the end of a long week at work, giving Rick the freedom to focus on Carl and Judith.  And when the kids were with Lori, Fridays signaled the start of some often much-needed alone time.

Of course, his alone time wasn’t quite alone anymore.  And Carl and Judith weren’t the only two people he got to spend extended time with over a weekend that always felt too short.

Michonne was there now, fitting into his family and his life like she was always meant to be there.  And he couldn’t have been happier.

Fridays were good for many reasons, but his absolute favorite one was that Fridays always ended with Michonne.

They’d started a tradition together, even though their relationship was still relatively new.  After dinner in and spending quality time with the kids playing board games or hanging out in the backyard before sending them off to bed, or going out to eat and exploring more of King County so Michonne could continue to learn more about her home on weekends they were alone, Fridays always ended with the two of them curled up on his couch watching movies.

It was easy, it was simple, and it was one of the best things in his life.

They usually only got through one movie before one or both of them couldn’t keep their eyes open anymore, but tonight they had made it to a second one.  Still, Rick was having trouble focusing on the television screen, but it wasn’t because he was tired.

He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off the woman pressed into his side.

Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she’d changed out of the outfit she wore to dinner and slipped on one of his spare t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants she’d started keeping at his house for lazy nights spent in.  She’d taken her contacts out and perched her glasses on her nose, and was intently concentrating on the movie before her.

He loved the gorgeous, sexy outfits she always put together for dates, but he couldn’t overstate how beautiful he found her whenever she was like this: casual, relaxed, so comfortable in his home and there with him.

It made his heart swell in his chest, and he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice that her gaze had shifted from the movie to him.

“Are you not enjoying my movie?”

He blinked and laughed lightly when he registered the disapproving look on her face, and he wrapped his arm around her more tightly as he looked towards the television and saw a scene from The Proposal playing out onscreen.

“Romantic comedies aren’t really my thing.”

“Well, it’s what I picked.  So don’t you even think about falling asleep on me.  You’re going to watch it till the end even if it kills you,” she warned, turning back towards the television.

He chuckled again.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And maybe I would’ve been more open to picking something we both would’ve liked,” she continued, eyes never leaving the screen, “if you hadn’t made me watch a movie about the ghost of a dead witch chase around and kill college kids in the woods beforehand.”

“Hey, The Blair Witch Project was a defining moment for the horror genre.  The found-footage filming style would’ve never caught on like it did if it wasn’t for that movie.”

“Yeah, I know, Mr. Scary Movie Aficionado.  That’s the third time you’ve told me.”

He could tell she was trying to sound stern, but he could see the smile she was trying to hold back just turning up the corners of her lips.

“I’m just trying to educate you,” he defended.

“Something tells me you’re trying to use the old ‘Watch a Horror Movie With a Girl So She’ll Cuddle With You’ move.”

He let out a short laugh.  He couldn’t deny that.

“Would it be so bad if I was?” he asked her.

“Nah,” she answered immediately, turning back towards him, letting her grin light up her entire face now.  “I like that reason a lot.”

“Good,” he murmured, smiling at her softly before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead.  They both refocused their attention on the screen.

But, again, the movie couldn’t hold his thoughts for long.  Barely a few minutes had passed before his eyes wandered and found her beautiful face.

He was always in awe of her, and had been since the day they’d met.  Since he saw her smiling face, heard her smooth voice as she stood and addressed Judith’s classmates and their parents.  But tonight, as he watched light from the tv flicker across her skin in the dim room, something overwhelmed him.  Her presence filled the air around them and enveloped him in the best way.  His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt words bubble to his lips.

He had the urge to swallow them down, as he had always tended to do in the past.  Lori had often accused him of being too quiet, and in many instances, she was right.  

He would learn from past mistakes.  This was different.  Michonne was different.  He was determined to make it different.

“Chonne?”

“Yeah?” she murmured, eyes still trained on the tv.

He sat up and reached down to the coffee table in front of him, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie.

“Hey!” she protested immediately.  “What the hell?  I told you, you’re not getting out of this.”

She turned her whole body towards him, her arms crossed and her lips pressed together in a small pout.  She was so adorable he almost couldn’t stifle his laugh, so he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

“I know,” he assured her, “and we’ll finish it.  I promise.  I just wanted to…talk to you about something for a little bit.”

He saw her face fall the tiniest bit, but she recovered quickly, and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, but make it quick, Grimes.  We’re just getting to the good part.”

He laughed again, and his breath caught as he took her in.  Once again, he was overcome.  He got lost in her, so much so that he nearly forgot what he wanted to tell her.

“Rick?”

Her cautious voice pulled him from his thoughts, and when he refocused, he found that the hint of worry that had flashed across her face a few minutes ago was there again.  He reached his hand out and cupped her cheek, running his thumb over her cheekbone in an attempt to reassure her.

“I like you,” he said, finally.

Her eyes warmed, and she smiled, leaning into his palm.

“I like you, too.”

A grin that matched hers took over his face automatically when he heard her words, and he took a deep breath to steady himself.  To try and temper his happiness and slow his hammering heart so he could focus on what he wanted to say.

“I really like you, Michonne.”

Her smile grew, but she didn’t answer him this time.  Instead, she grabbed the hand that caressed her face and brought it to rest in her lap, intertwining their fingers.  She nodded gently for him to continue.  She could tell that he had more.

That feeling of shyness that had always stopped him from speaking before came over him all at once, and he dropped his gaze from her face to their clasped hands.  He swallowed once, and tightened his grip on her.

“I really like you.  And I know it hasn’t been that long, but you fit so well here.  Having you, and getting closer to you has been so natural.  And I’m not just talking about Carl and Judith adjusting.  I mean, they adore you, which is amazing, of course.  But with me, too.  I know that seems obvious, but sometimes with kids people can get so hung up on making sure they’re alright, that they can forget about the relationship they’re building.  And I don’t want that to ever happen with us.  I want you to know that when I say how good this is, and how happy I am, I’m not just talking about how it is with them.  I’m happy with you.”

He lifted his head and captured her gaze again.  Her eyes shined, and she shifted until she was on her knees.  Then, she leaned forward, resting her hands on his thighs.  She nodded again, urging him on.

“After Lori and I ended things, I was afraid,” he admitted.  “She was all I knew, since I was a kid.  And I was afraid that I’d never find anything like it again.  That I didn’t know how to anymore.  I wouldn’t say the right thing or look the right way or do what I was supposed to.  But then I met you, and everything was so easy.  Like I said, everything just fit so well.”

He paused, and brought his hands to rest on her hips, his thumb finding the hem of her shirt and dipping below it to stroke her smooth skin.

“I didn’t find what I had with Lori.  It’s different than it was with her.  It’s different than everything else before, but it’s a good different.  And I’m not even sure I can pinpoint what exactly that difference is.  I just know that it’s there.  And it’s us.”

He pulled her closer to him, until she was practically sitting in his lap.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her fingers began to fiddle with the ends of his hair.

“Rick,” she breathed.

“This is different,” he told her earnestly.  “And it’s real, and it’s good, and it’s ours.”

She brought her forehead to his, resting them against each other and closing her eyes.

“It is,” she agreed.

“I’m guess what I’m trying to say is, I want this,” he told her, trying to resist the urge to kiss her.  He wanted desperately to get the rest of his words out.  “I know it hasn’t been that long, and it all happened kinda fast, but you’re here.  And now that you’re here, I can’t imagine you not being here.  I want you here, for a long time.  I’ll work for it.  I’ll put the time in.  I’m in this, one hundred percent.”

He trailed off, his words lingering in the air.  He laughed once, self-consciously.

“I just hoping you are, too.”

And she laughed this time, a sweet, soft sound that filled him from his head to his feet.

“Holy shit, Rick Grimes, do you have a way with words.”

“Well, they’re not usually my strong suit.  Or so I’ve been told.”

“You must’ve picked up some skills somewhere, then,” she surmised, leaning back and running her fingers through his brown hair.  A expression came over her face that almost seemed sentimental.

“You surprised me, you know.”

“Yeah?” he asked curiously.

“Yeah.  Before I moved here, I had a breakup that was not fun, to say the least.  It’s kind of what encouraged me to check out King County in the first place.  I was going to move to the country, swear off men, and find myself.  Or something like that.  Then Judith Grimes walked into my classroom, and she brought you with her, and I was pretty much a goner at that point.”

He smirked, and brought his hand up to tuck a lock of her hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear.

“And to answer your question - yes, I’m in.  Totally and completely.  I want what you want.  And I promise that someday I’ll tell you in a way that’s as beautiful as what you just told me, but right now I just want to curl up next to you and…bask in everything, if that’s alright.”

“I’d like that.  Plus, we have to finish our movie,” he told her, and then leaned forward to press a slow, lingering kiss to her smiling lips.  After a few, small, follow-up pecks, she shifted off of him, and returned to her original position, curled into his side and underneath his arm.  He picked up the remote, but before he pressed play, he spoke.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you - how have you been feeling about King County lately?  Still have that potential you were hoping for?”

He felt her laughter shake her body against his.

“I think it has a lot more than potential at this point.”

He chuckled, and pulled her closer to him as he started the movie back up.

“I do, too.”

And as the characters and stories played out on the screen before them, he savored her presence beside him.  The calm and joy she’d brought to his heart and his life.

Eventually, his eyelids grew heavy, as he was lulled by the comfort of being with her.  When they started to close, he snapped them open and blinked heavily a few times before glancing sideways to see if she’d caught him.

He found her fast asleep as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

He smiled, stifling his laugh so he didn’t wake her.  He took in her endearing, gorgeous, sleeping form and let it fill his heart, before plucking her glasses off her face.  He placed them on the table in front of them and then grabbed the blanket resting on the arm of the couch, draping it over them.  He stopped the movie, and turned off the television.

Darkness engulfed the room, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the couch and falling asleep with Michonne in his arms.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |

[richonnejustdesserts]

Teacher’s Pet : A Richonne Round Robin Fanfic

A small town sheriff and preschool teacher find love thanks to the cutest little matchmaker around. [RATED: T]

Chapter 7  (written by @iminyjo)

“…The thing was busted the whole time! I’m standing there looking at him like, ‘Man, are you kidding me?’”

Shane kept going and luckily for Rick, he realized that he hadn’t been listening at all a moment before Shane could. He glanced at his watch meaningfully and stood up from his desk abruptly to avoid being caught.

“Well, I think I’m gonna go stretch my legs.” Rick said, thumbing toward the front doors of the station.

Shane looked caught off guard because he’d been in the middle of a sentence when his best friend bounded to his feet unexpectedly.

“Everything okay, Chief?” Shane ventured.

Rick looked back at him. There was no way for Rick to explain that he was anxious, excited and frustrated simultaneously without facing a serious ragging from his friend.

“Yup.” He answered simply, stretching to sell his boredom better.

The truth was he was restless. He’d seen Michonne Saturday night and then again on Sunday for a picnic at the local Reservoir. Dinner on a Sunday night, basically a school night, proved impractical but rather than cancel they agreed to meet in the early afternoon. The outing had started out charming and chaste enough but had devolved or escalated, depending on your point of view, into a heavy petting session. Without a doubt, as far as he was concerned, it had been wonderful. And if Michonne enjoyed herself even half as much as Rick had with her then he knew already they were both in serious trouble. He was a goner. He could tell already.

But now he wasn’t gonna see her until Tuesday.

Still, Monday nights with the guys was sacrosanct. He’d told Michonne that when they made plans to see each other next.  He explained himself and she’d listened carefully. It wasn’t because he didn’t already feel like he could see her and spend time with her and talk to her and touch her everyday. It was just that he didn’t want to be one of those guys that threw his friends over every time his love life had a pulse. And Mondays were his established “Guys’ Night” with Shane and Glenn. Michonne, the amazing person she was, completely understood that, but now Rick was the one feeling deprived.

He sighed.

“Today’s too nice a day to be stuck inside,” Rick announced. “I think I’ll go pick up the kids today. Take ‘em to the park before I take them home. Save Lori the trip.”

Shane just watched him, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll bet.”

“What?” Rick said feigning innocence. Shane had known him too long, it was occasionally annoying.

Shane reclined in his chair with his feet up on the desk and put his hands behind his head. “You never did tell me how the date with the school teacher went.”

Rick cursed himself for not having walked out as soon as he got to his feet. Shane wasn’t even supposed to know about their date but between him, Maggie and Glenn there had been too many witnesses and loose lips to keep anything quiet. Rick was convinced they were trading notes or exchanging texts or something about him. It was like they had a hotline. Everything one knew, the other two did as well in short order.

“It was nice,” Rick answered truthfully but succinctly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a hand resting on his gunbelt.

“I’ll bet.” Shane agreed with a smile that suggested he knew more than he technically should. He swiveled in his chair as if he was waiting for something.

“What?” Rick said again.

Shane suddenly looked like the cat that ate the canary, waving him off all smugly agreeable.

“I’m heading out,” Rick said turning to walk out.

“So you said.”

He took a step and turned back to Shane again, spinning on the heel of his boot. “What?”

Shane shrugged in answer; the smile hadn’t budged an inch. “Nuthin’”

Rick sighed again loudly. His shoulders drooped in defeat. So much for even a speck of privacy in this town. “You heard about the museum?”

“HA!” Shane smiled widely then, dropping his feet back to the floor and clapping his hands, rubbing them together greedily, ready to get to the nitty-gritty. “Boy, I had no idea you were such an art-connoisseur!”

Shane laid his country accent on especially thick for maximum effect. “But see son, in the future, I reckon I must advise you to appreciate the arts within the boundaries of the Law.”

Rick scowled. That damn security guard.

“This town is too damn small,” Rick complained aloud more to himself than his friend. He wondered how many rounds this story had already made in just under forty-eight hours.

“…I hear there may even be pictures.” Shane was continuing.

Rick skewered him with a look that if not stopping him entirely, at least turned Shane’s next words from outside statements to inside thoughts. He pursed his lips, making like he was zipping them up and tossing away the key.

Rick groaned. Paying Michonne a visit at school had gone from a wistful impulse to a necessity in a matter of seconds. If this thing had effectively ruined his chances with her, Rick knew in that moment he was going to be personally cracking heads and wringing necks of gossip-mongers all over town until he got all the way back to that security guard.

He looked at his watch in earnest now. “I gotta get over to the school before the bell rings. Cover for me?”

Shane smiled, still irritatingly amused. “Sure thing, Brother.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” Rick made for the door, far more apprehensive than he’d been an hour ago.

***

Michonne strolled down the hall with a large, juicy apple in her hands. This was one of her rare free periods. Her kids and the kids from the Pre-K -B class were having a visit from the local zookeeper. He’d brought in a marmoset, a parrot and a frog. And between them, the two aides and Tanya Wilson, the teacher from class B, the two Pre-K groups’ attentions were completely rapted. Next week when the flautist came, it would be her turn to class-sit while Tanya took the break. In the meantime, Michonne decided the best place to enjoy her minuscule thirty minutes in relative solitude would be in the teacher’s lounge. At that time of day, it was likely to be nearly empty– or at least she hoped, since she didn’t actually know.

Michonne turned the fruit over lovingly in her hands before taking a bite. Her kids kept her stocked in them: Fujis, Galas, Macintoshes, Pink Ladies, Granny Smiths, both Yellow and Red Delicious. She was lucky she genuinely liked them. Having, apparently, conflated the idea of ‘an apple a day keeping the doctor away’ with ‘having an apple for the teacher’. It delighted her that her kids wanted her to live forever…or be invincible, as Jeffie Hill explained it to her. They loved her as much as she loved them and her daily apples were the tangible, or rather edible, proof. She smiled as she thought of it, turning the corner up the hall to the lounge.

“…And third off, I don’t really see how it’s even any of your business.” Michonne heard Sasha saying as she approached the doorway.  She slowed down, this sounded ugly.

“Well, I just don’t think it’s appropriate. She just arrived. I heard–” It was the fifth grade English teacher, Ms. Martin speaking. Michonne had exchanged enough pleasantries with the woman to recognize her voice. She hesitated. Something inside suddenly telling her to fall back.

“Personally, I don’t understand why you’d be even getting your gossip from the lunch lady’s son anyway. I heard Eugene Porter taught seventh grade Bio, at this very school, for two years before anyone realized he didn’t even graduate from high school.” That was Paul interjecting.

“Mr. Rovia!” Sasha said scandalized…or at least faking it well.

“What? I’m merely illustrating how bankrupt idle chatter is. Really ladies, what Ms. Anthony–” Michonne stepped back out of the doorway at the mention of her name, her apple stuck in her mouth as if she were on a spit. Fittingly she discovered, since she was apparently being roasted– “chooses to do in her spare time and with whom she does it is no one’s business.”

Michonne didn’t know whether to stay or go. She wasn’t an eavesdropper but considering the conversation was apparently about her, she felt torn. How was it possible that her fledgling dating life in this town had already become fodder for lunchroom gossip? Her mother had warned her, but truly this was ridiculous. She hung back at the threshold of lounge

“The point is,” Sasha overemphasized her syllables. “unless at some point, Ms. Anthony or whomever asks you for your opinion personally, I think you’d be smart to keep their names out of your mouth.”

Michonne knew that like herself, Sasha was a transplant but with her mild, nerdy, affably witty personality, she’d never thought to wonder where exactlySasha hailed from…until that moment. But with the flint in that final pronouncement and a voice that brooked absolutely no rebuttal, Michonne wondered now if Sasha’s original home wasn’t a bit more rough and tumble than vanilla King County.

So with that as her cue, Michonne pushed through her nerves and walked into the lounge as if oblivious to what was happening around her.

“Good afternoon, Everybody.” Michonne announced casually after finally pulling the apple from between her lips.

Ms. Martin blanched as if caught, turning both pale and red in great big splotches that crossed her face and down in a scarlet trail across her neck and chest. “Um, M-Ms. Anthony. Hi!”

Her companion, one of the middle school’s PE teachers that Michonne had yet to formally meet, avoided eye contact. She gathered her things swiftly muttering about her break being over and scuttled out of the room.

Paul and Sasha turned simultaneously and shared a look. Even they looked startled by her sudden appearance behind them.

“Ms. Anthony, a-are you, ah, are you having a good day so far?” Sasha asked being the first to regain her composure.

Michonne almost laughed. Clearly, there wasn’t a bank robber or con-artist among them, they all looked so unnerved and caught in the act that she very nearly felt sorry for them. She stood there silently for a moment longer to allow them all to stew in their guilt. In that time, Ms. Martin too, grabbed her papers and with her lunch bag moved past Sasha and Paul toward the door.

Michonne considered crowding the threshold as the woman approached and she slowed as if she suspected, looking very much like a cornered rabbit.  But at the last moment, Michonne stepped out of the doorway graciously, “Have a good afternoon, Roxanne.”

“Michonne,” Was all she said before flying by her and down the hall.

Michonne turned her attention on her friends then, cocking her head slightly in query.

“Look, we didn’t want you to find out like this–” Paul was the first to speak this time.

“We didn’t want you to find out at all.” Sasha amended holding her hands up to stay Michonne even though she hadn’t moved or spoken at all.

“What?” She really hadn’t heard much of anything although clearly they didn’t know that.

Sasha and Paul exchanged another look. They were gonna get on her bad side quickly if they continued doing that. “What don’t you guys want me to know?”

She walked into the lounge and sat on the large  comfy couch that lined the wall by the window and staff mailboxes. Sasha joined her, while Paul pulled up a close-by chair.

“I’m an adult, I can handle it.”

Her friends exchanged another meaningful look that made her stomach drop.

“There’s a rumor going around that old Mrs. Porter’s son Eugene caught you and Rick Grimes rolling around in the children’s exhibit at the McPherson Museum,” Sasha rushed through it all as if she were ripping off a band-aid.

“And we wouldn’t have even dignified it with a comment except that…well, we know you went on a date with him on Saturday.” Paul added.

Michonne’s face burned. They’d joked that their little romp would become grist for the gossip mill but Michonne had assumed that it was just that…a joke.

“Now some of the teachers are concerned that dating Rick isn’t appropriate.” Sasha continued rolling her eyes. “But I honestly think we may have nipped that in the bud.”

It was Monday, in the early afternoon. How could that story have possibly gotten those kind of legs already?

“First of all, it’s not true…”

Entirely…maybe if they hadn’t gotten caught– Michonne self-censored as Paul and Sasha looked from each other back to her.

“Of course not, honey–”

“We didn’t believe it for a minute–”

“….And second of all, I thought you guys said it wouldn’t necessarily be a big deal if we saw each other?”

“It’s not, exactly,” Paul reached out and pat Michonne consolingly on the knee as he leaned forward into their little huddle. “I mean you’re not breaking any rules. It’s like anything else in this town that’s out of the ordinary– just something to talk about.”

Michonne loathed being the subject of idle gossip. The idea that after only a few months in town she’d already gotten tongues wagging distressed her.

“This will peter out in time, trust me,” Sasha attempted to reassure her. “As soon as someone gets a DUI or Mrs. Anderson brings in another store-bought cake for the Spring Cake-walk –she does it every year and every year they act like it’s a high crime–”

“She’s a hairdresser, I don’t understand why people expect her to be Betty Crocker.” Paul inserted looking at Sasha. “I suspect she couldn’t properly operate an Easy Bake oven, so I’m actually glad she lets the supermarket handle it.”

“Paul.”

“What? She can’t cut hair either.” He ran a hand through his hair once and shuddered.

“What I’m saying is, trust us, once there’s something else for people to talk about, people will.” Sasha concluded with a smile and another pat on her other knee.

Michonne frowned but nodded at them nevertheless. She certainly hoped so.

***

Michonne was sleepwalking through the rest of the day. She knew it. Even the kids knew it.

Just before the dismissal bell, Judith Grimes came up to her and tugged on the sleeve of her shirt as she stood at the sink washing out a couple dozen small paint brushes.

“Miss A, are you okay?”

Michonne turned to her and squatted so they were eye to eye. “Judith, you’re supposed to be over on the story rug listening to Miss Ashley.” With the exception of Judith, her teacher’s aide had the children’s undivided attention– no small feat ten minutes before the end of the day.

“She’s not as good as you and Daddy.” Judith reported softly, leaning in so it was just between Michonne and herself.

Michonne smiled in spite of herself. The thought of various teachers speculating on her nascent relationship with Rick had her beside herself and completely off her game. She fretted that even Judith, who while observant was still only a four-year-old, noticed. It made her feel worse. This thing had just begun, was it already time to end it?

“Has someone given you the Cold-Pricklies?” Judith asked seriously, her cherubic cheeks and big blue eyes taking on the approximation of a dour expression.

Michonne nearly laughed. They’d just been teaching the kids a lesson on how words could hurt or help, labeling them either the Cold-Pricklies or the Warm-Fuzzies. It was no surprise to Michonne that Judith was both an astute and swift learner.

“No, but thank you for asking.” Michonne said giving Judith’s shoulder a squeeze. She looked more like her mother than her father, Michonne had realized but those blue eyes were Rick’s without a doubt. The thought of breaking things off with him so soon saddened her. Surprisingly so.

She sighed softly to herself as she stood. “Storytime isn’t over yet. Go see if you can catch the end.”

Judith nodded, her blonde ringlets bobbing on her head. “Okay.”

Michonne turned and went back to her brushes before she felt another soft tug. “Yes, Judith?”

Now she actually did laugh. She guessed bedtime was always entertaining in the Grimes Household.

Judith looked up at her, scrunching her little nose and beckoning her down to eye-level with her index finger. Michonne bent at the waist and Judith whispered in her ear. “I wish you could come home with us. Daddy always knows what to say to make me and Carl feel better.”

Michonne smiled, genuinely and pulled the preschooler into her arms giving her a big hug. “Thank you. But you know, I think you’re probably as good as your dad.”

Judith beamed. She turned and ran for the rug just as the bell rang. She froze in her spot for a moment looking back at Michonne as all the children on the rug jumped up and scattered. Michonne laughed again and Judith smiled like the class clown.

“Have a good afternoon, Everyone!” Michonne announced then.

“BYE, MISS A!” They all screamed simultaneously as they did every afternoon.

Michonne waved goodbye to Judith as she scrambled to her cubby for her things. She couldn’t help keeping her eyes on the little girl even as other children tackled her thighs to give their own farewells.

Was it strange or somehow unfair to everyone else that Judith had already secured a little real estate in her heart?

About twenty minutes later as Michonne and Ashley moved through the room putting the last of the things away for the day, there was a knock on the door. They both looked up to see Rick standing hesitantly in the doorway in his full sheriff’s uniform. A squadron of butterflies suddenly did a loop de loop in Michonne’s stomach. She would have been lying if she said it wasn’t a very sexy sight.

“Ms. Anthony?”

“Deputy Grimes!”  

They both spoke at the same time, then smiled timidly at each other.

Ashley, who stood incidentally at a spot on the rug midway between them both cradling a stack of books in her hands, looked around awkwardly.

“I, um, need to go help Ms. Wilson in her room…now.” She said to Michonne quickly then hurriedly put the books down haphazardly in the Reading Corner and rushed out.

Rick barely cleared the doorway fast enough to avoid a collision. Michonne rolled her eyes. It was worse than she expected. The whole school knew –in two days! She sighed and Rick frowned in concern.

“Everything okay?”

Michonne shook her head fatigued. She put her arms across her chest and settled back against her desk at the front of the classroom.

How to tell him that the school rumor mill was already hard at work labelling them lovebirds?

Rick came in more fully, walking up until he was within striking distance, close enough to touch Michonne if that was what she wanted. Though from the look on her face it was tough for him to tell. She certainly looked like she could use a hug but with her arms crossed, she seemed guarded at the same time.

“I wanted to wait until everyone cleared out. Carl and Judy are waiting in the car.” As Rick spoke Michonne nodded, “And I know we said we’d see each other tomorrow. So I hope you don’t think I’m being eager.”

Michonne smiled. It was small but still a smile. “Eager’s okay.”

She didn’t know if she wanted to encourage or discourage him at that moment. Looking at Rick now she was truly torn.

“…But I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

“That’s good. We need to talk.”

Just that quickly Rick was set back on his heels. A woman saying they needed to talk, whether or not you said it first, was not a good sign.

“Is everything okay?” He asked again plaintively.

Michonne put her hand to her mouth covering a giggle. Rick looked and sounded exactly like his daughter in that moment right down to the solemn expression and half-cocked head.

Did she really want to stop seeing this man based on idle chatter?

They were both consenting adults, that had broken no rules.

“It appears the halls are alive with the sound of gossip.” She said smiling.

Rick dragged his hand down his face and sighed deeply like an old man after a flight of stairs. “So you know?”

Michonne nodded. “Yep, I guess apparently Eugene Porter and his mother got on the ole bullhorn Saturday night and alerted the entire school?”

“Possibly town.” Rick broke it to her. Michonne groaned.

Her mother’s words came back to her yet again. She could not claim she hadn’t been warned.

“So what do you wanna do, if anything?” Rick asked, dreading the possible answer. He closed the distance between them and Michonne came back to her feet. He placed his hands on her arms and looked directly into her beautiful brown eyes trying to discern her answer before she spoke.

Looking into his eyes Michonne thought of the great time they’d had together on Saturday…and Sunday.

Rick wasn’t sure how to take her silence. “You want to call it off?”

He couldn’t hide his disappointment, Michonne was the first person since his divorce from Lori that had put the color back into his world. It was only after he’d met her that he realized he’d been blithely going through the motions in monochrome for so long he could barely remember the difference. Until now.

Michonne remained silent a moment longer. What did she want? She wanted to see where this thing between them could go. She realized she wanted to get to know Rick better. If she let herself be frightened off by a little bit of wayward gossip now she knew she might miss an opportunity for something great. So then she knew what she wanted.

She wanted to give them a chance.

She smiled, shaking her head and Rick felt the knot forming in his stomach ease.

“Nope,” She said easily and then they both were smiling.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |

[richonnejustdesserts]

Teacher’s Pet : A Richonne Round Robin Fanfic

A small town sheriff and preschool teacher find love thanks to the cutest little matchmaker around. [RATED: T]

Chapter 6 (written by @lovedmoviesb)

Rick glanced into his rearview mirror, appraising his appearance for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He felt absurd, really; it had been years since he wondered what others thought of his looks, long since passed the time in his life where insecurities commanded his thoughts. He adjusted the sleeves of his blue button-down shirt, wondering if he ought to have worn a tie.

“You got this,” he breathed, smoothing his hair back one last time. Shane’s words were ringing in his ears.

“Be yourself. Just smoother,” his friend had shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Glenn had been slightly more helpful. “She said yes to a date, right? She must like you.”

Rick focused on that thought as he made his way out of the car, padding his way up the front walk to Michonne’s modest brick house, and ringing the doorbell. With a start, he realized he’d left the flower he’d purchased for her in the car. He had half a mind to race back for it when her front door swung open.

“Rick,” she said his name like it was a song, the melody falling from her lovely lips like she enjoyed the sound of it.

“Michonne,” his voice was thick. The sight of her nearly caused him to choke on his own tongue. He had seen plenty of little black dresses in his 40-something years on earth, but never had they caused this reaction. “You look beautiful,” it was so much of an understatement that it might be criminal.

“Thank you,” she smiled gratefully, her head tilting slightly as she glanced down at herself. “Are you sure I’m not overdressed?”

Rick cursed himself for forgoing his tie, but managed to reassure her. “You look perfect.” From the locs twisted artfully into a large bun on the top of her head, to the graceful curves of her body in that dress, to the point of her slinky black shoes, she was a vision.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself, cowboy,” her compliment sent an instant blush racing to his cheeks.

“Just trying to keep up,” he grinned at her.

“Let me just grab my purse,” she spun around, reaching for something out of sight beyond her door. Rick was treated to the sight of the rear of her dress, the straps leaving her back nearly bare until the fabric began again just above her waist. His mouth ran dry. “Ready?” she asked a moment later, resurfacing with her purse.

“Ready,” Rick watched her lock up before offering his arm, leading her down her own driveway. Her smile at the single red rose he gifted her made the flower worth the effort, despite his misgivings about it being too old-fashioned.

“It’s beautiful,” it matched the color of her painted lips. Rick found himself entranced by the sight. Michonne surprised him when she broke the long stem, tucking the blossom into her hair as though it were an ornament. The effect was striking. “Where are we headed?” she asked conversationally, settling into his passenger seat.

“Someone told me you might like art,” he started the car, taking his eyes off her reluctantly. “I think you might have fun tonight.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she leaned back, getting comfortable as he steered them away from the house.

-l-l-l-l-

Michonne gripped the stem of her wine glass, attempting to focus on the painting ahead of her. King’s County may not have been the culture capitol of the world, but they gave it their best effort. The event tonight was crowded, couples milling around, clutching half-empty containers of wine and beer. Most of the crowd was congregated near the bar, but a few had made their way into the gallery. Michonne was doing her best to ignore them, staring instead at a rendering of a covered wagon in pastels.

Beside her, Rick nursed his beer, gazing quizzically at the wall in front of them. Michonne hid her smile as she took in his expression; Rick seemed to be a generally kind man, but he couldn’t hide his obvious distaste at the art in front of them.

“Do you like it?” she ventured, sipping her drink.

“It’s nice,” Rick hazarded a smile.

“Really?” Michonne appreciated his effort but was seconds away from laughing. She wondered if his lukewarm passion for art extended beyond the walls of this modest museum. She’d have to take him to a proper gallery one day.

“It…” he paused, taking a swig of his beer. “All of these paintings look the same,” he admitted, scrunching up his face. “I thought there might be something here not from Little House on the Prairie.”

Michonne laughed, the sound echoing off of the concrete floors and drawing attention from nearby spectators. Rick grinned at her, obviously pleased that his joke had landed well. “I think this might be more about the alcohol and less about the art,” she observed, finishing her glass.

“Then let me get you another,” Rick reached for cup.

“I’ll go with you,” she quickly volunteered, reluctant to be parted from him.

“Are you sure?” he looked surprised. “I think there’s another ten pictures of fields of wheat. That one down there even has a cow in it.” His lopsided grin was so endearing that Michonne found herself smiling back widely.

“We can always come back and look at it,” she promised, falling in step beside him.

“I’m sorry about this,” he apologized a few moments later, after both of their drinks had been refreshed. “I thought there might actually be something interesting in here.”

“I think it’s pretty interesting,” she glanced over at him, struck again by how handsome he looked. The navy color of his shirt played well with his eyes.

“You’re a nice person then,” laugh lines creased his face as he chuckled. “I’ve never been here before.”

“I was thinking of taking the kids,” Michonne took a sip to steady her nerves. She was enjoying being around Rick immensely, but the temptation to touch was almost unbearable. His hand hung close to hers, their skin brushing from time to time. Still, he seemed reluctant to hold it. She wondered if she should just bite the bullet and make the first move. “There’s supposed to be a decent children’s section.”

“Really?” this seemed to interest him. Rick’s eyes turned to a sign on the wall, locating the directions. “C’mon.” There was a spark in his eyes now that thrilled her.

“Rick,” Michonne scurried on her heels to keep up with his excited steps. “I’m sure it’s closed.”

“Probably,” he shrugged, smiling mischievously at her.

“Officer Grimes,” she mock gasped, “Are you suggesting we break the rules?”

They came to a stop in front of a roped off section. Rick looked around quickly. “Not break,” he shrugged. “Bend them. You have to test it out for the kids.”

“You’re right,” she nodded solemnly, her tone not matching the amusement on her face. “It has to be good enough for the kids. Judith is a harsh critic.”

“That she is,” his southern twang made Michonne laugh. With a flourish, he stepped over the rope, reaching back to her with his free hand. “C’mon,” he urged.

Laughing, her heart pounding against her chest, Michonne took his hand.

-l-l-l-l-

The light was low in this part of the museum, the colorful patterns of the wall just visible. Rick didn’t mind. He was far too focused on the softness of Michonne’s skin. He wondered what the rest of it felt like, wondered what it would be like to actually hold her. Just the act of holding her hand alone had him excited and nervous all at once.

“This is actually very nice,” Michonne’s voice was low and she stayed close to his side, brushing against him as they walked. “There’s some things in here I think the kids would love.”

They passed several short tables built for finger paints and crayons, and a large, brightly colored sculpture. A square booth off to the side drew Rick’s eye.

“What’s that?” he directed her attention to it, steering them both towards it. Her leg brushed against his and Rick bit down the urge to pull her closer to him.

“I’ve seen these!” Michonne lit up immediately. She set her wine down on the ground, releasing his hand. Disappointed, Rick watched her. “Let me show you,” she coaxed the beer out of his grip, tugging at both of his free hands. Willingly, he followed her.

“It’s tight in here,” it seemed necessary that he say this out loud. Michonne was mere centimeters in front of him, the bare skin of her back begging to be touched.

“It’s for kids,” she giggled, glancing over her shoulder at him. He touched the rose in her hair, amused. “Sit down,” she instructed, pushing against his chest lightly. Rick complied immediately. She lowered herself into his lap, leaning forward to a touch screen in front of them. Rick gripped the seat beneath him, desperately trying to keep his hands to himself.

“What’s this?” he attempted a question, keeping his eyes firmly above her tempting waistline.

“Smile,” she instructed, sitting up straight, leaning back into him with a goofy grin. Rick just managed to imitate her when a flash went off. The touch screen lit up with a photo of the two of them. “Hmmm…” Michonne hummed lowly, shifting in his lap. “What should I draw?”

Rick swallowed thickly, daring to shift himself closer to her under the guise of seeing better. “You’re going to draw on us?”

“Mm-hmm,” she was already tracing her fingers over the screen expertly, lines of red and green appearing. Rick watched amusedly, his hands coming around her waist, holding her lightly. She did not protest. “Voila!” she announced with a flourish a moment later, glancing back at him. Rick laughed immediately.

“Super Mario Bros?” she’d given him a bright red hat and bushy brown mustache to go along with her matching green ensemble. He marveled inwardly at quickly she was able to paint over them.

“I think you make a handsome Mario,” she turned in his lap, looking at him.

“Not as pretty as Luigi,” as funny as her art was, Rick was fully distracted now. His hand was brushing some of the bare skin on her back. He ran his thumb up and down, unable and unwilling to resist her.

She smiled, suddenly shy despite her previous boldness. Her fingers traced up and down his arms. “Want to take another one?” she asked.

“Maybe in a second,” Rick leaned forward, throwing caution to the wind, covering her beautiful mouth with his own.

She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck, moaning lightly beneath his lips. Rick drew her closer, holding her tightly around the waist, slanting his head to deepen their lip lock. She parted her lips beneath his and he seized the opportunity, marveling at her taste like red wine and something he couldn’t identify, but knew he was now addicted to.

He came up for air reluctantly, opening his eyes to see Michonne looking back at him, her dark iris hidden behind her long lashes. She dove back in, pressing her chest into his and Rick responded eagerly, momentarily forgetting where they were. She grasped at his biceps, flattening her palms over the muscles and Rick shifted, lifting her enough to pull her against him. His hands dragged downward, over her smooth, dark skin, toying with the space between the fabric of her dress and her waist. Michonne let out a breathy little gasp that nearly undid Rick completely. He pulled back, unable to keep the smile off his face. She grinned right back, dusting her lips across his cheeks. She went back in for his lips and Rick leaned back, bumping the tablet in front of them. A flash went off, just visible behind his lidded eyes, but it was the unexpected voice that startled them both.

“Hey,” an accent thicker than even Rick’s sent a shock through the canoodling couple, and they jumped apart guiltily. A security guard with an ebony mullet was staring confusedly at them. “You aren’t supposed to be back here.”

“Sorry,” Michonne was quicker than Rick. “We just wanted—“

“A place to kiss, I know. You’re not the first. One time, I caught this pretty little number and her redheaded beau. They were doing more than kissing.” Rick and Michonne stared back at him, half embarrassed, have bemused. “I mean copulating.” The security guard clarified .

“We’ll be heading out now,” Rick did his best to stand up, his pants uncomfortably tight. He guided Michonne behind him, allowing her to straighten out her clothing.

“Don’t forget your pictures,” the security guard flourished two glossy pages as they climbed out, Michonne still clinging to Rick’s hand.

“Thank you,” embarrassed and eager to be alone again with the woman on his arm, Rick seized the pictures and hurried towards the exit.

“Oh my gosh,” Michonne began to laugh as they got out of earshot of the security guard. “I hope he doesn’t tell anyone that he caught us.”

“You know he will,” Rick shook his head. “We’re going to be another couple he caught copulating.” Rick purposefully dialed up his accent. He could honestly not have cared less what the security guard thought.

“Well, not quite copulating,” Michonne’s tone changed. Rick turned back to look at her, pausing near the exit.

“Not quite,” he agreed. He wanted her, badly, and it was clear she felt the same. Still, there was a time and place for everything. He kissed her again, a simple press of the lips, chaste compared to their photo booth make out. “I think we’ve got a few more prairie paintings to look at first.”

She giggled, wiping at his mouth, “Let’s start with the one with the cow.”

-l-l-l-l-

“I had a great time tonight,” Michonne laced her fingers around Rick’s as he walked her up the path to her front door.

“I did too,” he smiled at her, his lips still stained faintly pink from her lipstick. He paused at her front step.

Michonne stared at him for a moment, debating furiously. Part of her wanted to open that door and drag him inside, throw him down and finish what they’d started in the photo booth. The more conservative part of her knew that he would be worth the wait.

“Michonne,” Rick let go of her hand, fiddling instead with the rose in hair that had come loose. “I was wondering, if you aren’t sick of me…”

“Never,” she couldn’t imagine a situation where that would be true.

“Then maybe you’d like to get dinner with me, tomorrow night?” he looked at her hopefully.

Michonne closed the distance between them, brushing her lips over his. “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she told him, delighting in his smile.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, reaching into his back pocket. “You should keep these. It’s your art, after all,” he smiled as he pressed the two printed pages into her hands.

It wasn’t until he had wished her goodnight and disappeared in his truck that she chanced a glance at the pictures, laughing at the sight of them rendered like the iconic characters. The second picture caught her off guard. The camera had caught them mid kiss. They were twisted around each other like a couple who could not get enough, like they had forgotten a camera was even there.

“Tomorrow,” Michonne whispered, stepping inside her house, the pictures pressed to her chest.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5 |