Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Takes place during EP 6. Rated G.

Another goddamn helicopter. 

This one much bigger than the previous choppers, and--blessedly--sturdier looking, courtesy of the newly restructured Civic Republic.

 Two weeks since the explosion of the  Summit at Cascadia Base, and the kinks were still twisted up and knotted, though slowly being worked out. Several lengthy investigations later, complete with interviews with higher ups and a dizzying array of meetings with committees and Republic officials and so much goddamn chatter, and their part in it all was deemed over. Stamped and sealed.

They were finally headed home. 

To their children. 

It was enough to deepen the trembling in his hands, far worse than any thoughts of being in the air. It felt surreal to be even thinking such things. He was alive and free, and on his way back to a place he only thought he’d ever see again in his dreams. 

Though, they were warned it was quite different. Radio communications between Alexandria revealed its alliance with an impressively large community called The Commonwealth, and all the changes that came along with it. Namely that many of their old friends and neighbors had relocated to the bigger, far more advanced settlement, including their children, under the care of Carol and Ezkiel. 

There was more information, of course. There was always more. But Rick didn’t know if his already overstimulated brain could process whatever else without some serious downtime. Nerves and adrenaline coursed through him, a chaotic cocktail of trepidation that only made his hand shake harder, his chest tightening at what waited for them at the meet-point.

And then, he felt his wife’s hand curl into his. Her grounding touch, warm hands and the cool press of her ring was enough to stop the shaking and his heart steadied, beating a different rhythm, the steady thump of it as familiar as the feeling of their fingers linked together. 

Rick glanced over, meeting her gaze, so soft and sure and he lifted their joined hands, brushing a grateful kiss to her knuckles. 

“Thirty minutes out!” came the shout from their pilot, and Rick nodded at the man before turning his focus back to Michonne, who watched him, dark eyes steady, with a brightness to them that he’d missed so damn much. 

“Promise I won’t throw you outta this one, baby.” 

Michonne's stark humor was enough to shake him from the creeping thought spiral, a sharp, short laugh tumbling out before he could help it, easing the vice-like grip of anxiety from his chest. 

And really, he couldn’t love her more for it, she really had a knack for getting him out of his head. Rick breathed out a slow exhale and gave her hand a grateful squeeze.

Nearly eight years of aching emptiness, of deadening himself to anything beyond simply surviving the fanatical ambitions and secrets of a bloodthirsty organization, all culminating into this. 

The last time he would ever be separated from his family. 

Michonne untangled their fingers and reached for the brown pack beside her feet. The bigger black duffel contained her things from the Civil Republic, a gesture of goodwill from the oversight committee. Her journal. Her armor. 

And, her katana. 

That, she had immediately slipped on her back, welcoming her sword like an old friend.

She rifled through the bag containing the gifts for their children. Books and a name chain for Judith. A Rubik’s cube and a hatchet for RJ. Some Yellowstone sweatshirts they’d scored in the gift shop. And several Wyoming mugs for the house she wasn’t entirely sure was still theirs, but would be calling home for the time being while they worked out the other elements of their life, playing catch-up with what awaited them at the Safe Zone. 

Rick watched her inventory it all, the small smile gracing her lips shifting to a confused frown when she reached deeper into a zippered inside pocket. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” she assured him. “It's…” Her fingers closed over the object, and pulled out the thin, flat pieces of metal.

Her gaze softened into something sweeter at the little Wyoming state license plates and Rick ducked his head, the jumbly, nervous feeling giving way to shyness. “Just in case he might wanna hear it from me,” he rumbled. 

True, no one had ever called him Junior, and Rick didn’t know what to expect in getting to know his own son, but the love of having that sort of bond with his namesake had already taken root.

It seemed too coincidental to pass up, finding that particular name, and so he pocketed it. Just in case. 

His heartbeat skittered a bit more when Michonne looked at the others, surprise and confusion gracing her gorgeous features, and she voiced the question out loud that was all over her face. “When did you get these--” 

“After you found the keys to the cabin,” he explained, watching her fingers trace over the raised lettering spelling out their daughter’s name. “You went to the ladies’ room, I kept looking ‘round.” ‘Judith’ had been a lucky find, and even more so the ‘Carl’ plate. That had tightened his throat, a glimmer of it seizing him now as he took in Michonne’s wistful smile. Grief in the gladness, a myriad of emotions playing out, but mostly happiness. 

He knew the tears welling up in her dark eyes, seeing the last little plate were more of the same, her quiet gasp and trembling bottom lip had him reaching for her once more, their roles reversed as his touch sought to soothe her in the way she always managed for him. 

Michonne’s grip was tight, and she idly traced the plate with her free hand, her thumb circling the first letter of the name that she hadn’t spoken in so long, but had never, ever left her thoughts. 

Andre.  

“You gave me back Carl,” Rick told her, voice roughened by the tight emotions lodged in his throat. “Thought I would do the same.” 

The ‘thank you’ was heavy in her eyes, teary, but filled with so much love, he ached with the surety of it. Could taste it in the kiss she graced him with, a little messy but so goddamn sweet he claimed another, cupping her cheek and keeping her close. 

Michonne pressed a final kiss to the inside of his wrist before pulling away, and safely tucked the plates inside the brown pack. 

Their hands came together once more, holding tightly to one another as the pilot announced ten minutes to the landing point.

Chapter Text

Moonlight shone through a sliver of open curtain in the window above their heads, casting a dim glow in the otherwise dark cabin. The candles had long been snuffed out and they were fitted snugly in the bed that was pretty sturdy if not questionably smaller than they both expected. 

Certainly creakier, if judging from the evening’s earlier activities. One especially loud croak from the bedframe during a particularly hard thrust had sent them both into a fit of laughter, muffling the joyful sounds in each other’s necks as their lovemaking was interrupted by the unexpected comedy. 

It only heightened the moment, emphasizing the ease in which they’d fallen back into the physical. Bodies fitting together so perfectly, time and distance apart didn’t matter. She was still impossibly soft, skin scented by the sandalwood soap and other toiletries they’d managed to snag from the Three Pines gift shop. 

His hand still knew where to touch, the parts and places of her that were so responsive to his wandering, at times gentle and other times as rough as they both needed, but never hesitant. He was surer now, realizing that her body and his body coming together was, in fact, real. She was a stunning vision beneath him, above him, beauty spread out for his feasting eyes and their mutual pleasure, but also very, very real.

And he savored her touch; dark, slender fingers drifting through his beard, or wandering into the curls she couldn’t stop touching, grounding him in the moment. He recognized that gleam in her eye as she had  moved on top, hips canting in the slow grind that always made his heart race. And he drank in the sight, the warm glow of her body wrapped in nothing but candlelight, her hands pressed to the tops of his thighs as she moved, possessive and loving and so hungry for him. Like it had always been between them. Equal parts intensity and sweetness, passion and peace. 

They’d passed out, sated and exhausted, only barely remembering to throw on pajamas before retreating back to the bed. Michonne was asleep beside him, his arm sprawled across the pillows and her body tucked in his hold. 

Rick brushed a kiss to her cheek, eyes drifting shut at the sound of her little sigh, and he smiled when she scooted back, the round curve of her ass nudging his crotch. He hissed slightly at the small twinge in response to her movements, an expected reaction whenever he seemed to be anywhere near her these days. A welcome pang of want that reminded him that being together again was very much a reality. 

In the dark, with his love in his arms, his mind was calm but not quieted. He still felt the pull of the whiskey, which loosened his limbs but scattered his thoughts. He replayed their conversation in the crumbling building, stuck on Michonne’s teary admittance. Pushing her away, yet reaching for her all the same, and the strain it had put on her. 

No, hurt. 

He’d hurt her. 

It burned at him, hearing that. Jolted him from the spiral of silence and grief and self-sabotage he thought would be enough to send her away. For her own good, for her safety. Killed himself on the inside, so she could live, pushed her from him, breaking both their hearts.

He had to face that, face the reality of what he’d been holding onto, and what had been taken from him. His hope, his love, his son, so many years stolen, leaving him empty, until she blew him out of the sky and forced him to contend with the situation.

“You’re thinking so loud.” 

Michonne’s voice, soft and sleepy pulled him from those thoughts, and he brushed a kiss to her bare shoulder. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “Can’t sleep?” 

“Mmm, I was doing alright. Better than you.” 

Rick smiled into her neck. “Was gettin’ there, eventually. Just windin’ down.” 

“Thought we did that earlier.” She shifted in his hold, facing him with a soft grunt as her fingers carded through his curls.

Rick savored the feeling of her nails lightly raking his scalp. “That was more like you, wearin’ me out.” 

He felt her laughter before he heard it, mouthed at her throat and the vibrating hum of it before kissing her lips, catching the husky sound with a small moan.

“Guess I didn’t tire you out enough,” she whispered, tossing a leg over his hip and gently rocking against him. “You’re still awake, forming sentences.” 

“Barely,” he bit out, letting the arm curled around her shoulders drop, his hand already sliding down to grab a generous handful of her ass. “Just thinkin’ about you’s enough to make me want more.” 

Michonne’s dark eyes caught the sliver of moonlight peeking in, and Rick savored the sweet glow of them, bright as she smiled softly at his words. “Thinking of me?” 

“Always.” 

“What’s got you up?” They both looked between them, feeling the growing length of him pressed against her still-clothed center and Michonne breathed out another soft laugh. “You know what I mean.” 

“Nothin’ in particular,” Rick replied, with a small kiss and a half smile. “Mostly, how much I love you.”

“Trying to sweet talk me outta my pajamas again, Grimes?” 

“Workin’ on it,” he told her, voice trailing off when she tugged at his beard. They savored the quiet, letting it settle in the limited space between them on the small bed before Rick spoke again. “Everything good now, everything good to come, it’s all made better ‘cause I’m with you. You’re the center of it all. Things don’t work without you, ‘Chonne.” 

Liquor thickened his drawl, the lazy rumble of his honest and sweet words had her tightening her hold on him.

"Rick..." Michonne sighed, feeling a soft flutter in the pit of her stomach and she kissed him, soft at first but building to something deeper, something drugging and heady, tongues meeting in the kind of hungry glide that always made her want more of him. 

Her hand slipped from his side, pushing down his boxers off his hips, just enough to free what she’d been softly grinding against for the last fifteen minutes, stroking him in time with their kisses, sucking at his tongue and swallowing the sounds he made. Deep and growling, burning his throat and burning into their kisses.

Rick broke apart long enough to maneuver her sleep shorts down, and they worked with the tangle of boxers and blankets until one of her legs was freed and with a small thrust he sank once more into her, slick and hot, and always so ready for him. “Thinkin’ ‘bout me too, sweetheart?” he asked, his drawl as sluggish as his thrusts. 

“Mmm,” she answered him with a breathy moan. “Yeah…”

It was a slow rock, heavy breaths and a steady grind of meeting hips, and intense enough to make her hands shake. Michonne steadied herself against him, hitching her leg once more to his hip and kissing him deeply. 

She recalled nights like this in Alexandria, when they’d been worn and tired from the day’s work, when dinners were over and the kids were in bed and the nighttime routine had wrapped and it was all they could do more than embrace. Half-sleep, half-dressed, fucking close and kissing intensely, talking each other through it, leaving them both shivering and satisfied at the end. 

The best way to close out the day.

With a small gasp, Michonne yanked down the neck of her tight tank top, enough to tease a dark nipple, tugging at the sensitive bud and moaning at the clench that followed.

Rick’s groan was instant, chasing that deep flutter with his steady stroke. He squeezed her ass, guiding her hips to meet his, letting it all build with their hands and kisses and the sounds between them, shuddering when she whimpered his name and shivered against him. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. There it is…” He nipped at the curve of her neck, savoring the sound of her small cry as she came, clenching around him, body greedily demanding his release even as she savored her own and he gasped into her smooth skin, fucking harder, sinking deeper into her wet heat because he would deny her nothing, because he was hers, everything was hers and he moaned the promise against her throat.

Yours, yours, yours…

She was soft and gasping in his arms and he tightened his hold, groaning when she gripped his curls and dragged his mouth to meet her own, spilling inside her as he moaned her name. 

Blissful silence followed after, punctuated by the whisper of her gentle hand through his hair, eventually cupping the nape of his neck, keeping him right where she wanted as she took her fill of his lips until they parted with twin sighs.  He caught her whispered words, the soft 'I love you' that he easily returned, brushing his nose against hers.

“Better, baby?” she asked, hissing gently when he slipped from her center, already missing the feel of him.

“Always is, with you.” 

Full lips tugged into a grin as she tucked him back into his boxers. “You keep talking like that, I’m waking you up in an hour.” 

His smile was dazed and easy, his shadowed gaze no less intense in the dark, heavy with obvious want even as he helped her right her pajamas and settle the blankets, wrapping her in his embrace once more, her head on his shoulder and a warming calm in his chest, eyes already beginning to close.

“Gonna hold you to that, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

It was all an adjustment.

In some ways, Rick still felt like he was trapped in another escape attempt; bleeding out, hand gone, and walkers on fire at every turn. Racing heart, tight chest, and the panic that pressed on him at the oddest times. Desperate breaths and cold sweat, elements of the panic attacks that gripped him with no rhyme or reason.

His hand still shook, the worst of it at night when his brain would do its best to convince him that it was all a dream. That he was still back inside the cushioned cell that was his apartment at the CRM, or behind a fortified wall, the cold bite of a metal killstick in his hand as he mindlessly dispatched walkers. 

That his return had all been a dream. That Michonne wasn’t real. That their children were figments of an overactive and traumatized mind. That he was still alone and dead inside.

But then, those trembling fingers would reach out and find Michonne in the dark beside him. And all he’d need was that touch, skimming her soft skin, hearing her gentle breaths and the sleepy sigh that was her only response when he buried himself closer, wrapping her in his embrace. Her steady heartbeat a balm for his battered mind, the ugliness inside him fading to the background when he kissed her shoulder, needing the grounding touch of her to know everything was real. 

And it was real. He knew that. Despite the many changes to the place he’d called home all those years ago, there was a sense of rightness, being back inside Alexandria’s walls. There would have to be more discussions: the business of the Commonwealth, the whereabouts of their other family members, and damn near everything else, but they, husband and wife, agreed it could wait. It was clear they needed it. He needed it.

“We’re still adjusting,” Michonne said, right as always, gently squeezing the arm wrapped around her middle. “So we’ll take some time, take a breath. No rush. We’re okay.” 

They were curled up together, early morning sunlight streaming into the bedroom he remembered so vividly, having pictured her in this very place so many times, in his dreams. Rick’s sweat-dampened brow softened when her hand reached behind, her fingers combing reassuringly through his curls, grounding him in the moment. He held her tighter, and exhaled slowly. And eventually, they fell back asleep.

When he woke again, it was much later and--to his dismay--to a fully dressed Michonne, looking casual weekend cool in jeans and a light sweater. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, a small jar of shea butter beside her as she moisturized her locs. He took the time, silently watching her go through the hair care routine that had always fascinated him.

“Mornin’,” Rick called out, voice roughened with sleep. 

“Good morning, baby.” Michonne leaned over, grinning at the adoration in his eyes and treated him to a spearmint-flavored kiss, laughing into his mouth when he cupped her cheek and greedily claimed another. “I wasn’t trying to wake you.” 

“I’m alright. Slept enough. What time is it?” 

“Some time after ten.” 

“Definitely too late, then.” 

Michonne smiled and twisted the cap back on the jar. “Got somewhere to be?” 

Rick eased up to a sitting position with a small groan. “Feels like I should. Not used to it.”

“Used to what?” 

“Slow mornings. Not like this.”

“Mmm. That’s just your ‘can’t take a break’ talking.” 

“Ain’t that a pot calling the kettle black situation.” Rick dodged her playful swat with a deep chuckle and slipped from the bed. “Know you’re runnin’ outta here on some mission.” 

“Nothing but training,” Michonne replied. “Jude wanted to show me what she’s been working on.” 

He could hear the smile in her voice while he searched their dresser, pulling out a pair of dark jeans, and a soft green denim button down. His own lips twitched with a grin, because their daughter was so grown up now, so far from the little girl with wild curls that he used to chase between the vegetable gardens, it was tough to wrap his mind around her also expertly wielding her mother’s choice of weapon. “That’s good.” 

“Mhm.” Finished with her hair, she reached for her katana leaning against the nightstand and kissed him once more. “There’s breakfast downstairs. We should be back around noon. Make sure RJ wakes up before then.” 

“He ain’t up yet?” Rick asked with a slight frown. 

“Takes after his namesake that way,” Michonne teased, slinging on her katana and adjusting her cropped gold sweater. “See you later.” 

“Alright, sweetheart.” 

Rick went through the morning routine, opting to leave his growing beard be, because he didn’t have the right clippers for trimming anymore (he really needed to ask Aaron what happened to them). 

By the time he showered and made it downstairs, he was surprised to see that RJ was, in fact, already awake and dressed. He was perched on a stool at the kitchen island counter, sock-covered feet swinging, and his brow furrowed in concentration over his newly acquired Rubik’s cube. 

Rick smiled. “Mornin’, son.” 

Round brown eyes met Rick’s warm gaze, and immediately brightened. “Hi, Dad.” 

It was a small thing, the way the words thrilled him, warmth blooming in his belly whenever Judith or RJ called him ‘dad’. He never stopped being a father, knowing it was part of what drove him to return home, knowing Judith needed him, willing to do whatever it took to make it back. And now, there was his son. 

His love for them had come so naturally, so intensely, the feeling was liable to knock him over. And growing with every day. He was still nervous, still anxious at learning his own children, and angry at the time he missed, all the important milestones in their lives, but the negative couldn’t and wouldn’t outweigh the instinctive connection.

Rick moved closer, ruffling his son’s soft brown curls and lingering when RJ wrapped an arm around his middle in a brief, loose hug. He was a hugger, his boy. Constantly seeking out affection from both his parents and sister. It reminded Rick so much of Carl, who had possessed the same easy, guileless demeanor at that age, even as the world had shifted and ended around him.

“Your Mama and Judy already left?” 

RJ set aside his puzzle in favor of watching his father move around the kitchen. “Uh-huh. I had breakfast too.” He pointed at the microwave, and Rick opened it up to find a large homemade oatmeal and fruit bar on a plate. “Uncle Aaron makes ‘em. They’re the best.” 

“Yeah? Guess that’s what I’m havin’ too.” He arched a brow and smiled at the sound of RJ’s giggle. The plate went to the counter and Rick poured himself the last cup of coffee from the machine, still hot and fragrant. “Mind if I sit with you?”

The boy seemed to consider it, studying his father with a curious look that Rick struggled not to laugh at, until he nodded with an ‘Okay’. 

“Appreciate the consideration.” The silence was comfortable while Rick ate his breakfast bar and kept an observant eye on RJ’s progress with the Rubik’s cube, trying to work out his son’s method. Which after a good five minutes he realized it mostly consisted of impulsive choices and backtracking as the younger Grimes tried to align the colors. “You’re not too bad with that.” 

Quick fingers paused their movements and RJ looked up at his father, who was busy adding sugar to his coffee. “It’s hard. But fun.” 

“I always thought so. Took me forever just to finish one when I was a little older’n you.” 

“Really?” Dark eyes, so much like his mother’s beautiful pair, widened with excitement. “You had one when you were little? Back in the olden days?” 

Rick snorted mid-sip into his coffee. “I’m not that old, Junior.” His faux grumpy look earned him a hearty laugh from his little doppelganger, bringing out a smile of his own. 

Despite Michonne explaining that no one else had graced him with the nickname, Rick had been pleased when RJ responded to it when he’d given his namesake his custom license plate. Over the last two weeks, ‘Junior’ had become their thing. A connector between father and the son he was still getting to know.

“Did you have other cool toys?” 

“Some. Puzzles and Legos, stuff like that. My parents liked me better outdoors. Was always runnin’ and jumpin’ around somewhere around the farm. Even had a treehouse.” 

“No way! That’s awesome, Dad.” 

“It was,” Rick nodded. “Me and my dad, your grandfather, built it one summer. Took weeks and a lot of hard work. But I loved it.” 

RJ gave a little sigh, his eyes drifting downwards. “I wish we could build a treehouse.” 

Rick considered that as he polished off the rest of his oatmeal bar. “Hmm. There’s a few big trees still in the Safe Zone. Maybe after this, we can go around town, scope ‘em out.” 

There it was, the excitement he’d been expecting, RJ’s face’s lighting up in surprise. “Seriously?” 

Rick laughed, because he sounded so much like Carl then, big grin and boyish excitement, his heart panging a bit at the realization. “Seriously. Gotta keep my old man mind sharp, an’ a project’s good for that. Plus, you can bring your hatchet. Get some practice in.” 

The Rubik’s cube clattered atop the marble counter, already forgotten. “Awesome! I’m gonna get my shoes!” RJ’s footsteps echoed off the hardwood as he ran upstairs. 

Chuckling to himself, Rick cleared up his breakfast dishes. By the time he was buckling on his utility belt, the front door opened, signaling Michonne and Judith’s return. 

“Hi, Daddy!” Judith greeted him, katana strapped to her back with a basket of groceries in her arms. “We stopped by the pantry on our way back.” 

“I see that,” Rick replied, dropping a kiss to her hair. “Hey Jude. Sure hope there’s still sweets left for everyone else.” 

“We needed stuff for dinner,” Michonne explained, ignoring Rick’s teasing but accepting her kiss from him with a small hum. “Where’s--” 

“Ready, Dad!” RJ yelled as he barreled into the living room, shoes on, and sheriff’s hat perched on his head. He grinned at the rest of his family, Michonne’s startled expression and Judith’s amusement. “Oh hey, Judy. Hi, Mama! Guess what? Me and Dad are gonna go look for trees.” 

Michonne glanced over at Rick, his shoulders shaking with mirth as he bent over their weapons chest, retrieving his hatchet along with the one they’d gotten for RJ. “What in the world?” 

“Told him about the treehouse I had when I was about his age,” Rick explained. “Said we would look at some trees around town, see if any of ‘em would work for building a treehouse.” 

“And I get to practice with my hatchet, like Jude and her sword!” 

Which Michonne had to laugh about, her son’s raw excitement. And she noticed the gleam in her husband’s eyes, getting the chance to do a project with their son, keeping both Grimes boys busy and focused. She tapped the brim of his hat. “Well okay. You have fun with your Daddy. And remember what I told you--” 

“I know, Mama. Weapons aren’t toys, it’s a responsibility.” With the lecture out of the way, RJ turned to his father, bouncing excitedly. 

“We won’t be gone long,” Rick promised, noting the softness in his wife’s eyes as she regarded their little family unit. He felt it too, letting the warming comfort wash over him as he brushed his fingers with Michonne’s. “Be back in time to help with lunch.”

“Take your time,” she told him, her smile small but loving. “There’s no rush.” 

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze before letting go, and patted Judith’s shoulder before nodding at his son, already ahead of him at the door, ready to begin their adventure. 

“Alright, Junior. Let’s go look at some trees.”

Chapter Text

“How’d it go?” 

“Teeth brushed, pajamas on, and two bedtime stories. Safe to say Junior’s down for the count.” Rick closed the door to their bedroom, fingers curled around the knob. “Boy is relentless, I’ll give him that.”

Michonne giggled softly at her husband’s happy, if slightly worn expression. She closed the book she’d been reading and placed it on her nightstand. “He’s been fighting sleep since he was a baby. But I think he just likes staying up with you.” 

Rick shook his head, his smile still prominent even as he wandered towards the bed, dropping down with a small grunt as he kicked out of his worn boots. “Still a novel thing, I guess. Having Dad around. Judith was easy, though. Talked about her day and gave her a kiss and a tuck in.”  

“She’s getting older. Pretty soon you won’t even get that.” 

He groaned, not even wanting to consider the idea of his baby girl getting too old for the nighttime routine he was only starting to get in the groove of. “Ahh, come on. It's only been a month. Least let me enjoy this part before we're kickin’ ‘em out the door.” 

Which only made Michonne laugh even more. He felt the bed dip slightly as she moved closer, her hands skimming broad shoulders while her lips brushed his cheek. “Fact of life, baby. They’re growing up.” Deft fingers moved to the hem of his gray t-shirt, and she waited for him to lift his arms, tugging off the shirt and tossing to the bed. 

Rick caught her hand in his, kissing her knuckles. “It does mean less interruptions in the middle of the night. No three AM feedin’, or diaper changes.” 

“Just clomping pre-teen feet sneaking downstairs for late night snacks.” 

He laughed at that, the sound melting into a sigh at the feel of her fingers combing through his curls. “To be fair, sweetheart, that’s any of us. ‘Cause I know how that sweet tooth of yours works.” 

“Stop telling lies and kiss me, Grimes.”

She yanked his head back, and leaned in, catching his rumbled ‘yes ma’am’ between her lips and teasing him with a small moan. 

They broke apart, long enough for her to shift into a straddle, knees pressed to the mattress while settling in his lap. 

Rick admired her nighttime attire, his fingers ghosting over the soft material of her white tank top, and slipping down to grip the generous curve of her bottom, clad in tiny gray shorts. 

“You look good.” He kissed the compliment to her skin, leaving it in the curve of her neck and up the soft line towards her ear. “Smell good, too.” 

“Sweet talker.” Michonne smiled into the kiss she pressed to his temple, her fingers already tugging the curls at his nape. “You’re already gonna get some.”

He laughed at that, a rumbling, and incredibly sexy sound that vibrated against her skin, causing her to wiggle in his hold. He busied himself with nibbling on her earlobe, groaning softly when her hips moved against his, eventually catching the rhythm of her slow, teasing grind. They sank into the moment, content to kiss and rub on each other, their hands and lips unhurried but passionate. 

Rick savored the sensation of being completely lost in Michonne. Her center pressed to him, one hand still clutching his curls while the other lightly scored his shoulders, her short nails creating lines of heat under his skin. 

Slowly, Michonne pushed him back, her kisses still claiming his soft lips even as he hit the mattress. It gave her more room, grinding down firmly against the hard ridge of his bulge, still confined to the worn denim of his jeans but judging from the sounds he made, those deep, rumbling groans that tugged at the throb of need between her legs, he liked having her take control. 

Rick’s arm curved around her waist, fitting her tight against him while his free hand pushed into her shorts, filling his palm with a handful of her ass, thrusting upwards as she dropped her hips. “Fuck, sweetheart Keep movin’ just like that…” 

She happily obliged, drawing out her teasing with every sensuous push, just to hear the sounds he made. Those reckless wanton moans, hot against her cheek and she turned slightly, eager to taste his hunger for her, a shivery thrill racing down her spine, seeing and feeling how turned on he was.

Caught up in the moment, it was the sound of creaking hardwood that stuttered Michonne’s movement. Heavy breaths followed their lips parting, her hand on his chest as she lifted up. “Rick, wait--” 

“What?” Confusion colored the question, dark pupils blown wide as he struggled to comprehend her stopping them. “What’s wrong--” 

She pressed a finger to his lips to silence him, listening briefly and sure enough, there went the sound again. 

The hushed voices and footsteps, careful ones that were trying hard to be quiet and failing. Miserably.

Michonne frowned, knowing more than likely who the culprit behind the late night shuffling could be. “Jude?” 

The footsteps stilled and there was a brief, whispered conversation before finally a voice responded. 

“Yeah, Mom?” 

Which sounded far too casual (and much too awake) for someone who should have been sleeping, or well on her way to it. 

Michonne glanced down at her husband and the pair of them looked towards the door. 

“Dammit!” Rick hissed, a note of quiet panic in his cursing. “Do you think she heard us?” 

“I don’t know,” she replied softly. Eyes still on the door, she cleared her throat and raised her voice, asking “Everything okay, baby girl?” 

There was a brief pause. 

“Yeah? Just going to the bathroom,” came the muffled reply. “And RJ wanted something to drink, so we got water.”

“Wait, your brother’s awake?” 

“Yeah?” Judith said again, warily. 

“Hi, Mama!” RJ called out, not an ounce of sleepiness in his voice. “Is Dad up too?” 

“Oh goddammit.” Rick whispered, breathing out a heavy sigh, as Michonne dropped her head to his collarbone, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Yeah…I’m awake, Junior.” 

“Okay, just checking!” 

“We’re going back to bed,” Judith promised, her voice getting fainter as they moved down the hall.

“I’m gonna get them together,” Michonne whispered. She climbed off him, but stopped when Rick squeezed her hip. 

“You sure? I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure.” She backed it up with a kiss, slow and smacking, and grinning at his impatient growl when they parted. “You just stay ready for when I come back.”

“Yeah, I will,” he grunted, eyes completely focused on the bounce and wiggle of her bottom as she headed towards the door. Raising his voice slightly, he bid his children goodnight (again), laughing quietly at their hurried replies as their mother shuffled them back to their rooms.

By the time Michonne returned, he’d changed into his own pajamas, a pair of black sweats, and was stretched out on his back, eyes shut and breathing quietly. “Not asleep,” he told her. “Just restin’ my eyes.” 

Michonne took the time to admire him, muscled arms crossed over his solid, bare chest, and the sweat pants riding low on his hips. His legs were spread, careless and casual and looking much too tempting and she felt that familiar, delicious pulse between her thighs. 

“Mmm, I know that lie well. Tell yourself ‘just resting’, next thing you know, it’s morning and you’ve got a to-do list a mile wide.” 

Rick laughed, his eyes drifting open, taking in the way she shamelessly ogled him, and enjoying every bit of her focused attention. He extended his hand towards her. 

“Well, I welcome any distraction techniques you’ve got brewin’.” 

Linking their fingers, Michonne followed his gentle tugging, returning to the straddle she’d been in before the interruption, pushing their joined hands above his head as she brushed her lips to his. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey, darlin’," he drawled, hungry gaze dropping to her lips. "Gonna have your way with me tonight?”

“It was part of the plan,” she replied around a breathy giggle. 

“Was that before or after you jinxed us?”

“I did what now?” Michonne asked, dark eyes giving him a playfully stern look. “How?”

“All that talk ‘bout the kids bein’ grown, won't have to do any more nighttime battles. Then boom, look what happens.” Rick shook his head, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “You're just too powerful, Chonne.”

“Shut up!” She giggled, swatting at his chest. “That was not me. It was your kids who killed the mood.” 

“Oh so they’re just my kids now?” 

It didn’t stop him from beaming at that, grin so wide she couldn’t help but kiss him for being so damn sexy, letting her lips travel from his mouth to brush his cheekbone, nuzzling against his beard and dipping to the spot beneath his jaw she knew would make him stutter. 

Michonne grinned at his reaction, the sharp intake of breath as his fingers tightened against hers. Her free hand cupped his neck, thumb grazing his throat and keeping him in place while she sucked and bit at the sensitive underside of his jawline. 

“Goddamn,” Rick moaned, hips giving a hard roll, bouncing her against him and she met his moves with a teasing grind, moving in time with her mouth as she continued to lave and nibble on him, greedy for more. “‘Chonne…” 

His body tensed and shuddered beneath her, his hand clutching tightly to hers. It was a hold he could easily break; they both knew it. But he was so content, blue eyes darkened, his soft mouth wet from biting at his own lips to muffle his noises as she overwhelmed him in the best way. His residual arm curled around her waist, settling right above the full curve of her ass, holding her tightly to him as they continued to move together, and he moaned at the steadily building pleasure.

Eventually Michonne took pity on him, giving in to her desire to kiss him, their lips meeting once more. Desperate and a little messy, she sighed into the feeling of his tongue teasing her own. 

“You’re being so loud right now,” she warned, but it didn’t stop her from shifting her hips, using the friction between them to stoke the growing heat between her thighs. “That’s what almost got us caught the first time.” 

“And you’re just pretendin’ you had nothin’ to do with that?” His laugh was caught between another groan and he sucked at her bottom lip, giving it a sharp tug because she was full-on torturing him now, feeling the press of her pussy right where he was hard and aching for her, and it was short-circuiting his brain. 

Michonne, meanwhile, seemed absolutely delighted by his distress, body jerking at his teasing bite. “No, I know exactly what I’m doing, baby. Doesn’t it feel nice?” She punctured the question with a slow, winding twist of her hips.

“I know what feels even better,” Rick mumbled, his head falling back to the bed with a low groan. “Sweetheart…fuck. Chonne, please…” 

She released his hand, completely unsurprised when it immediately dropped to her ass, gripping a handful with a firm smack that had her moaning hotly into his neck before sitting up, still grinding on top of him as quick, greedy fingers reached for the waistband of his sweats. 

“Can you be quiet enough, baby? Hmm? Can you do that for me?” 

“Yeah, yeah…” Came his huffed reply, and Michonne was sure she’d get him agreeing to damn near anything at that point, worked up as he was. 

The feeling was definitely mutual, the pair making hasty, haphazard work of their pajamas, half-off and tugged down, Michonne nearly ripping her shorts in eagerness, which only made him laugh, the sound catching in his throat when she straddled him once more, grinding into him, slick heat coating his length.

With a small shudder, Rick reached up, bringing her down to his lips with a sharp tug, silencing her squeal of surprise when he flipped their positions, pinning Michonne beneath him as he kissed his way down her curves, nibbling and sucking at her smooth, dark skin. 

“Know one way to keep me quiet,” Rick told her, the gleam in blue eyes positively smug as he settled her leg on his shoulder, kissing the sensitive inner thigh just to hear her soft little whine. 

“God, Rick…”

He dipped his head, busying his mouth with the business of tonguing her too-tempting clit, determined to coax a few more of those sounds from her before the night was through. 

So much for being quiet.

Chapter Text

“Hope I’m not interruptin’.” 

Rick’s voice cut through the chatter in the meeting house, and he grinned at the sight of Michonne with Aaron at one of the tables in the large, open space, papers spread out between them, coffee cups pushed aside in favor of note scribbling and planning. 

“You are, but I don’t mind.” She leaned in for the kiss she knew was coming, a quick press to her forehead while he moved towards a basket full of vibrant green apples perched at the end of their long table. “How was the visit?” 

“Don’t know what all to expect, with it only being the second one, but we’re friendly.” Rick grabbed a Granny Smith and polished it against his denim shirt before taking a big bite. “Got a good sense of humor. I like that in a shrink. Floated the idea of maybe gettin’ a new prosthetic.” 

Michonne’s brows arched, taking in the casually shared bit of information. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rick replied, offering her a look that spoke of a deeper dive into his thoughts, knowing he’d share them later. “Somethin’ to consider.”

“Nothing wrong with a cool upgrade,” Aaron said, waving his own prosthetic with a flourish. “And Doctor Bakare is a great asset. We were lucky to steal him from the Commonwealth. A double-certified surgeon and psychiatrist?” 

“Pretty much a unicorn,” Michonne added, smiling at Rick’s huffed laughter. “His sister’s the archery instructor, right?” 

“She is,” Aaron replied with a nod. “Hope Bakere. Medaled in the Olympics and everything. Silver, I think. And I believe she has some medical training, too.” 

Rick swallowed his bite of apple and whistled lowly. “That’s damn impressive.” 

“The kids seem to think so. I hear RJ’s really taken to the bow.” 

Which made his father beam proudly. “He has. Can’t say we’ve been enjoying the practice all over the house, but if it’s for learnin’…” 

“I don’t know how archery connects with bouncing tennis balls up and down my floors and on the walls,” Michonne added, shaking her head. “But I’m happy he’s getting the training, and having fun.”

“I know I am, for Gracie, too. As a matter of fact, I think their lessons should be wrapping up soon.” 

At Aaron’s words, Michonne glanced at her watch. “Oh, you’re right. If you want to pause things--” 

“--I can get ‘em.” Rick offered. “Seems like you’ve got some momentum on…whatever it is you’re workin’ on.” 

“Possible expansion plans,” Aaron explained. “Being allied with the Commonwealth, and now the supply drops with the Civil Republic, we’re able to maybe stretch further south, and finally incorporate the Cherrywood development for future growth.”

“Really?” Rick asked. “All of it?” 

“Not completely. Just a few of the front duplexes, to start,” Aaron replied. “They’d be good to convert into apartments, for single people or small groups. We’ll have to clear and assess repairs first.” 

He nodded at that. “Not bad. I remember Deanna wantin’ that, way back when. It’s good, makin’ it happen.” 

“Made possible by Michonne.” Aaron was happy to boast about his friend. “She laid the groundwork for how Alexandria could thrive beyond. The Safe Zone has been rebuilt, but it couldn’t have happened without that foundation.” 

Michonne’s graceful smile made Rick’s heart swell, an equal measure of pride and love reflected in his face when their eyes met. “Yeah, she’s real good at that, seein’ the big picture, makin’ shit happen.” 

“I think that’s enough ego stroking.” Her smoky voice was even, and a little playful, and didn’t betray the flush of warmth in her cheeks and the fluttering in her belly at her husband’s intense look. “Rick, get the kids. Aaron and I need to hammer out a few more details before we can present the proposal to the rest of the council.” 

“Guess I got my marchin' orders.” Rick briefly cupped his wife’s cheek, grinning at how warm it was, despite the slight chill in the air and he laughed when Michonne swatted his hand away, knowing she’d been found out. “I’ll leave y’all to it.” 

He finished his apple on his walk, tossing it into one of the compost bins near the stables and continued on and through the front gates. There was a clearing in a field not too far, where he knew the archery lessons took place. They seemed to have wrapped early, because he could spot a group headed towards him, walking the road back towards the Safe Zone gate led by a tall, dark skinned woman with close-cropped curls clutching a bow with a quiver of handmade arrows strapped to her back.

“Good shootin’?” he asked by way of greeting, nodding at the kids who followed their teacher, ranging in ages as young as RJ and a few others who appeared to be older than Judith, most likely teenagers.

“I think it went rather well,” Hope Bakare replied cheerily in her clipped accent. “Even with the excitement towards the end.” 

“Excitement?” Rick’s brow furrowed in confusion, head tilting as he looked beyond where he stood with Hope to see his children. Judith clutching a medium-sized cardboard box with ‘ARROWS’ etched in marker on the side, surrounded by a few other kids, including her brother. “What’s goin’ on?” 

“Dad!” Judith’s steps were careful as she approached her father, her katana on her back and her fingers tightly holding to the box. “Look what we found.” 

“What is--” Rick peered inside the box, surprised to see two kittens. Tiny and black, save for small patches of white fur along their on one’s little paws and the other’s nose. “Where did they come from?” 

“The forest near the practice field,” Gracie said, eyes wide and eager. ”They were meowing really loud.” 

Judith nodded at her friend. “And we didn’t wanna leave them there.” 

Rick could understand that, given the circumstances. Odds are, the girls more than likely saved from the same fate that had probably befallen the mother. 

“They’re so small,” RJ remarked, leaning further into the box with his hand outstretched, almost as if to touch one but hesitated, yanking his fingers back and gripping his bow. “Can we keep ‘em, Dad?” 

They were walking towards the gates again, and Rick looked down at his children, who were still enamored with the sleeping kittens and he sighed. “Think we gotta talk with your Mama about that one, Junior. They’re not babies, but they’re still kinda young to be on their own. They’ll need a lot of lookin’ after.”

“Should we take them to Doctor B?” Judith asked. “I mean, he’s a people doctor, but I dunno, he knows a lot of stuff.” 

Rick smiled and ushered the kids inside the open gate, letting his arm settle around his daughter’s shoulders as the rest of their classmates and teacher scattered to their respective homes. “Not the same thing, Jude.” 

“We’ll show Mama, first,” RJ decided, grinning up at his father. “She loves cats. And she knows a lot about everything.” 

“That she does, son.” Rick said with a laugh. “Guess that’s what we’re doing first.”

Michonne and Aaron were packing away their papers when Rick returned to the meeting house, kittens and kids in tow. 

“Well hey guys, how was practice?” Michonne asked, greeting her children with a bright smile. 

“Apparently action packed,” Rick told her, nodding towards the box that Judith carried over and gingerly set atop the table. 

“Me and Gracie found them, Mom. Aren’t they cute?” 

Michonne and Aaron peeked inside, sharing twin looks of surprise at the now-awake kittens, currently pawing at the sides of their cardboard carrier. 

“They were just out in the field?” 

Michonne looked to Rick, several questions and their answers passing through their shared gazes and he nodded at the unspoken one, knowing she recognized the obvious mother abandonment by way of walker interference.

“We did the right thing, right Dad? Not leaving them there?” Impossible to resist such a question from his daughter, inquisitive dark eyes regarding him closely. 

Another series of looks passed between husband and wife, and Rick eventually nodded at Judith’s question, and smoothed down her hair. “Yeah, Jude. You and Gracie did a good thing.” 

“You did,” Aaron added with a nod. 

“Can we keep ‘em?” RJ said, clearly focused on the most important part. “Dad says they’re too young to be on their own. So we gotta help, right?” 

Above their children’s heads, the silent conversation continued, Michonne’s pursed lips, and Rick, rubbing at his brow with his thumb, shoulders lifting in a noncommittal shrug. 

“Uh…well…” 

“We can look out for them,” Michonne offered diplomatically. “Like how you helped Uncle Daryl with Dog. But it’s a lot of responsibility.” 

“--But that’s good for us, right?” Judith countered, sounding so much like her mother, confident in her reasoning, Michonne couldn’t help but be impressed. “More responsibility? It’s how we learn, like practice.” 

“And I can help!” Gracie added enthusiastically. “We can share chores. We always do, with gardening and stuff.” 

“Learning animal care is pretty essential,” Aaron said, gesturing to Michonne. “We already teach them how to handle the horses and chickens. Besides, what better way to be hands on and gain experience from an actual cat-lover.” 

“Yeah, Mama, you love cats!” RJ reminded her, and Michonne could hardly hide her smile, even as she shook her head at her son’s contribution. 

“The cat art collection don’t lie, sweetheart,” grinning when she paused the adoration of her son to cut her eyes at Rick, who held up his hand in surrender. “I told ‘em they had to bring it to you.” 

“You got me most of those statues,” she reminded him, shaking her head.

“And now the kids brought somethin’ better,” Rick said, fully amused by the whole situation. 

One of the kittens seized the moment to plead its case, paws braced on the box’s edge, pulling itself up to standing while meowing, earning ‘aww’s’ from the kids as Michonne reached out, stroking the soft fur between its ears. 

“They’re tuxedos,” she said, a hint of fondness in her husky tone as she continued to pet the adorable little showoff. “See the black, with the white patches? I had a cat like this when I was about your age, Jude.” 

“Really? What was their name?” 

Michonne smiled. “Bootsie. She had little white feet, and it was the cutest thing.” Gingerly, she lifted the kitten, cradling it in both hands, patiently as it settled on her chest and nuzzled into her sweater. 

“One of my favorite spots too,” Rick muttered, low enough for the kids to miss it, but judging from Michonne’s snort and Aaron’s twitchy smile, the adults heard him loud and clear.

“Looks like they’re sisters.” Michonne peered down at the other kitten, busy scratching at the box’s bottom. “Maybe about six or seven weeks old, I think. They seem to be in good shape, so maybe they weren’t alone for too long. A little underfed, but we can fix that.” 

“Girl cats!” Gracie said, bouncing on her toes. “Cool!” 

“You should name ‘em,” RJ told her, which was rather diplomatic, though Rick was sure he was just happy to have something new and interesting around. “Since you and Judy saved ‘em from the walkers.” 

“Think that’s a good idea,” Rick said, and Michonne nodded in agreement. “What’s it gonna be, girls?” 

Gracie and Judith exchanged a look, nodded, and smiled. “Ramona and Beezus.” Judith beamed at her parents. She had readily taken to the book they’d brought her, enjoying the idea of loving something her mother had once treasured as a child. She and Gracie read it together, and Aaron had promised to look out for the rest of the book series on his runs, though had only managed one other so far. Still, it was enough for the girls, and apparently left a lasting impression. 

“That’s great.” Aaron ran a gentle hand down the back of the kitten still in the box. “We’ll keep Ramona and Beezus together for now, while they get better.” 

“Think that’s for the best,” Rick replied.

Michonne hummed in agreement. “Glad you think so, Grimes. Since you’ll be on cat-watching duty while Aaron and I work on expansion plans.” 

Her smile was small and a little triumphant, and Rick figured he deserved it for putting her on the spot. He nodded, and conceded his ‘well-played’ with a grin. “Guess I can do that.” 

“Yes!” came the chorus of excitement from the kids, who returned their attention to the box, listening as Aaron explained the proper way to handle kittens.

Another meow from the cutie cuddled to her chest, and Michonne looked down at the sweet face blinking its greenish-gold eyes up at her, and she couldn’t help but smile, her thumb stroking the white patch of fur on its nose. 

“Hey Ramona,” she said, her voice just as gentle as the scritches she placed behind the kitten’s ears. “Welcome to the family.”

Chapter Text

Rick awoke to the sound of music; an unusual occurrence on its own, not to mention he hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. He stirred slightly in the truck’s passenger seat, eyes slowly opening to the sight of Michonne, easing the vibrant yellow truck down the empty highway, and singing quietly. 

Briefly, his eyes drifted shut once more, savoring the sweetness of her smooth and smoky alto; he couldn’t recall ever hearing her sing before, though that wasn’t entirely surprising, considering their circumstances, never quite being anyplace where music and singing would be a possibility. And neither was it surprising that she would also be good at it, like damn near everything she put her mind to. 

"Your love makes me feel ten feet tall…” Michonne crooned along, her husky tone riding the soft R&B beat, wrapping him in a cozy, soothing warmth. “Without it I’d go through withdrawal, ‘cause nothing even matters at all…”

And she hadn’t yet realized her audience of one was awake and feeling a little bit rapturous at the sight and sound of her, as she hummed and harmonized her way through the song Rick could vaguely recall, but he was far more focused on her voice than the lyrics. Seeing her slight smile when she sang along to the words, in an effortless, easy kind of way that he hadn’t seen in so long. 

She was so damn beautiful, and so damn happy.

“Didn’t know you could sing.” His voice roughened from the unexpected nap and Rick grinned slightly when she started a bit, shoulders jumping before she glanced over at him, taking in his adoring expression. 

“Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.” Michonne brushed a few stray curls from his forehead, her teasing smile melting into something sweeter and just the tiniest bit shy when he caught her hand in his and threaded their fingers.

“Hey, sweetheart. Ready for a pit stop?” 

Michonne shook her head. “Not yet. I’m okay. We can go a little further, get some more miles in before it gets dark.” 

“Alright. How long was I out for?” Rick asked, kissing her knuckles before loosening his grip. “‘Cause I don’t remember music playin’.” 

“Found a couple of mixes in the middle console,” Michonne explained, nodding towards the compartment that separated their seats. “You’ve been snoring away for the last five songs.”

Rick snorted a laugh as he shifted in his seat, sitting up straighter while he poked around the console. There were two other CDs, all labeled ‘Driving Mix’ in clear jewel cases. “Someone was prepared,” he remarked, shutting the console with a snap. “Anythin’ good? Besides whatever you were singin’.” 

“A Lauryn Hill classic.” Michonne smiled. “It’s been pretty good so far. They really took ‘mix’ to heart. A little bit of this and that. Didn’t realize how much I missed it, listening to music.” 

“Yeah, it’s weird. But nice, too.” Rick absently nodded along with the next song, something alternative sounding that he faintly recognized as a 90s Top 40 staple, but couldn’t place it, the monotone voice singing about disco lemonade. “This one was kinda everywhere, wasn’t it?”

Michonne eyed him, her smile growing. “Yes, old man. It was. What are the odds of you knowing any of these?” 

Rick met that with a good-natured scowl, that didn’t last long because she was giggling at him in the way that always got him flustered; her ribbing was warm and a little mean, but more playful than anything. Like he was in on the joke, and with Michonne, he always was. “I knew of this one,” he pointed out, snapping his fingers along with the catchy ending chorus. “Can’t say I’m a human jukebox like my present and very pretty company, but I know a little.” 

“There was a compliment in there, right?” 

“I always got a compliment for you,” he replied, with a wink that he knew would get her laughing again. 

And he liked that, the ease between them. Missed it so badly, it hurt his chest to think of how long he went without it. 

Without her. 

“You do know I’m talking about music other than country?” Michonne asked, keeping the conversation rolling as they cruised on the forest-lined highway. “If I remember, that’s kind of your only wheelhouse.”

Head tilted, a questioning look in dark blue eyes, Rick pursed his lips. “I know more’n country, darlin’” he replied, his drawl heavy and not at all helping his case, but damn if it didn’t sound good, and Michonne considered his point before responding. 

“Alright, wise guy. Give me a favorite…that isn’t a country singer.” 

Rick scoffed. “Easy, baby.” He counted off on his fingers, starting with his thumb. “The Boss.” 

“Springsteen?” Michonne raised a brow. “Okay, not bad. I can see that, actually. Jersey cool, but still with the blue collar cowboy vibe.”

“Is that really a thing?” 

“It used to be,” she replied, taking her gaze from the road to let her eyes linger on him, outfitted in flannel and blue jeans, and heavy boots, with a salt and pepper beard “Mmm, yeah. You definitely got the vibe.”

He took a minute to appreciate her, appreciating him, his smile growing when her gaze met his and he knew she realized she’d been caught. Neither one cared, though. She was a damn fine view, and he was greedy for the sight of her.

As the mix went on, their conversation flowed, and while they didn’t always recognize the songs, they let the CD run, providing background noise to the banter. 

“I used to love doing this,” Michonne said, as Rick switched out the first CD for a new one from the console. “Taking road trips, making the perfect mixes.” 

“Yeah,” Rick nodded in agreement. “Don’t miss the bad gas station coffee though.” 

Her smoky laugh rang out in the brief silence between the songs, her fingers dancing along the steering wheel. “Not that, no. Had to keep it for snacks only. But I always liked driving. Even in the city.” 

“Couldn’t wait to get my first car. Saved up for three summers, workin’ construction for it.”

“Let me guess, some kinda pickup?” She was teasing him again, dark eyes alight with mischief and catching the rays of tree-dappled sunlight that streamed through the car, and Rick thought she never looked lovelier, even while poking fun at him.

“I lived on a farm, woman,” he said, side-eye holding no heat even as she laughed at him. “It was practical .” 

“Of course.” Her giggle said otherwise, though. “Sure you looked good in it, too.” 

“I did,” he agreed, looking a little smug but she figured he earned it through all her teasing. “Dark blue Ford. Ran like a beaut.” 

“Mhm. That’s definitely the cowboy vibe.” 

“What about you,” Rick asked, turning down the music slightly and fixing her with a curious look. “What was a fancy big city girl drivin’ around for her first car?”

“‘Fancy’, huh?” Michonne shook her head. “I was. Me and my Accura went on a lot of adventures, thank you.” 

“I bet.” His smile lingered as he watched her, humming along to the song he hadn’t been paying any attention to, far too focused on the little shoulder dancing she did, moving to whatever beat came on with each track. “What was your favorite adventure, sweetheart?”

Her smile dimmed a bit, and Rick could tell that the story carried some bad with the good. As did most memories of life before. Strange to think, so much time passed between the start of the end and now. How even the stretch of years into the new world didn’t dull the memories, not completely.

“The summer before junior year of college. I wanted to bring my car to campus, but my parents were not about to let me drive from Atlanta to D.C. on my own. So my roommate, who had already made it to campus, flew out to Atlanta, just to take the ride with me back to Howard.” There was a faint tremble in her voice, but she simply cleared her throat, full lips tugging into a small grin. “We had CDs, snacks, and at least five disposable cameras. It was a good trip.” 

“Sounds like it.” Instinctively, Rick reached out, his thumb caressing the apple of her cheek and distantly, he smiled when she leaned ever so slightly into his touch. They were quiet as  one song faded out, savoring the brief silence that lingered in the gap. The twanging opening notes from the newest song kicked in, and Rick jolted a little at its familiarity. “Damn, now this takes me back.”

Michonne glanced over, watching as he nodded along, completely amused at the sight. “Finally can say you know something I don’t, huh?” 

“Chonne, it’s Bob Seger.” He slapped out a little beat on his thigh, while humming the opening lines. 

“Whatever you say, baby.” Though she was pleasantly surprised when he started singing. He wouldn’t be performing to sold-out crowds anytime soon, but he held his own, his usual rumbling drawl going a bit rougher, unpolished but pretty enjoyable. 

“ She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes ,” Rick sang to his very own dark-haired lady, curling his hand around Michonne’s thigh as she laughed out loud. “ Workin’ on our night moves… ” 

“Bringing back some memories?” she teased, letting her hand drop to rest atop his. He took both back, linking their fingers and settling them on the console.

“Good ones, yeah.” And some, that rang bittersweet. Given her earlier tale about her college roommate, the one he was sure was the same from her unfortunate story regarding her strange scar, he had a feeling she understood. There weren’t many of those good memories from his younger years that didn’t include his former best friend. Rick gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Doesn’t compare to this, with you. Makin’ new memories of our own.”

The softness of his reassuring touch was reflected in the tender look in her dark eyes as she held his gaze, and she kissed his hand, then turned her focus back to the road. “Very smooth, cowboy.”

He chuckled at that, her hand nestled in his, while he nodded along to the music, the brightly colored pickup cruising down the highway, the late afternoon sun racing alongside them.

Chapter Text

The hot water soothed the ache in her lower back and thighs, and Michonne sighed at the relief. This was a good idea. No matter if she required a deep think or just to turn her brain off, she could always count on a steam-filled shower to be what she needed in the moment.

Lately, her mind was scattered, finding her attention wandering at the strangest times, a serious drain on her typical 'get up and go' vibe. And she wondered if it was simply the aftereffect of the after. Finding her husband, taking on a formidable military power, and all the inbetween it entailed. Coming back to Alexandria, reuniting with their children and friends, seeing the changes and taking it all in, while trying to adjust to their new normal…it would be a lot, for anyone. Definitely for Rick. And especially for her.

She was distracted, brain feeling stuck in a fog, and she was drifting through her daily tasks as if on autopilot. Hard to shake, and incredibly confusing. She was busy as hell and bone-tired to boot, sore and weary even with the late mornings she'd been recently taking to savor the sleep-ins Rick insisted she deserved (and that she secretly agreed with, even if she shook her head at his adorable, well-meaning hovering)

Through the comforting fall of water, and the scent of soap, she could hear footsteps, knowing Rick had more than likely returned. It had been a task to get the kids together for the invite they'd been buzzing about all week. Prepping their backpacks and sleeping bags for the game night sleepover Jerry and Nabila were hosting for the youngest Alexandrians. Her mind jolted back to another familiar, unpleasant incident involving overnight stays out of her hawkeye sight, resulting in stolen children, old friend betrayal, and unsightly scars on her skin…

…But Michonne wasn't going to overthink it. Jerry and Nabila were parents themselves. They were friends, part of the collective who had looked out and cared for her children while she'd been away. And they weren't Jocelyn.

Still, the uneasiness lingered, and she wasn't sure if she could even pin it all on the sleepover. Something was off, and it wasn't with anyone else. It felt like…her. She could feel it, she was mentally and physically dragging.

Distractedly, she soaped up her washcloth and scrubbed at her skin, inhaling the clean peppermint scent. It seemed stronger somehow, but she chalked it up to the hot water and perhaps Nora getting heavy-handed with the oils during her soapmaking endeavor.

It wasn't until she was rinsing off, her hand slipping down her flat stomach, ghosting over the thin brown scar beneath her belly button, did the stray thought come to her. Wild, unprompted, ridiculous…and yet…not entirely out of left field.

The brain-fog, the soreness, the exhaustion, the overpowering peppermint…

… Shit.

Rick stepped through the front door, a plastic takeaway container balanced precariously on his residual arm and he leaned in to secure the lock behind him before heading to the kitchen.

"Chonne?"

He paused, noting the quiet throughout the house, though considering he'd just dropped off the kids, quiet was to be expected. Savored, actually. Placing the container on the kitchen counter, he headed towards the steps, searching out his wife.

The shower in the master ensuite was running, and Rick kicked off his boots, setting them near the closet before pushing open the bathroom door with a soft knock. "Sweetheart?"

"Yeah." Her husky voice barely rose above the sound of water, and he could just make out her shape beyond the steamed glass, but she had turned her head ever so slightly towards him.

"Just wanted to say I was back."

"Okay. I'm finishing up."

The brief response was more of the same, unusually distracted in a way that had him puzzled as of late. Michonne's razor sharp sense of focus had always been something he noticed, as far back as their first meeting. Something to be wary about, watching her wheels turning in real time, and then something to admire, as their relationship shifted to friendlier territory. The voice of reason, she balanced out his hellfire with her impossible cool, and as his feelings shifted, growing deeper into life-altering love, he found her steadiness something he couldn't live without. She was, in her own words, 'always on her shit'. And while she hadn't fumbled, Rick could tell that something had her a little spaced. Present, but very much deep in her own head. But he simply nodded at her reply, despite her focus already back on the showerhead.

"Alright, baby. I'll be downstairs."

Rick shuffled back to the kitchen, unsurprised to see Ramona curled up in her favorite lounging spot, greenish-gold eyes peering out from under the kitchen table. With a small chuckle, he reached for the bag of treats atop the fridge, taking out two and shaking them in his palm, knowing the sound would be the only thing to make her move.

Sure enough, the black kitten came trotting over, meowing indignantly as she allowed herself to be picked up, and Rick laughed when she gobbled up her prize and gently headbutted his hand. "Spoiled already, huh? Yeah, you are." She cuddled up to his shoulder, safe in his hold as he carried her to the couch.

The latest addition to the Grimes family had been extra clingy; understandable with her sister now officially moved in with Aaron and Gracie. Though the kids managed a few playdates for Ramona and Beezus, with Judith and Gracie making matching collars for them. Rick fingered the thin cord of brown leather around Ramona's neck, and tapped the thin piece of copper that served as a name charm, the 'R' initial hammered into the metal by Eugene.

Eventually Michonne appeared, freshly showered and smelling of the homemade peppermint and almond oil soap their neighbor Nora made that everyone more or less used around town. Rick loved it the most on his wife, though, and he smiled at the sight of her, clad in an oversized rust-colored sweatshirt and black leggings, thick gray socks on her feet. "Evenin', beautiful," he told her, loose with his compliments because she looked lovely. Skin glowing in the low lamplight of the living room, even if her eyes were tired.

Her smile was slow to show, and smaller than he expected but he was happy when she moved closer, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss him. "Hey, love. The kids get off okay?"

"Yeah, they're okay. Can't say who's more excited about the sleepover, them or Jerry. He's got 'bout every board game you can think of, and Nabila made pizza." Rick shook his head, smiling. "Goat cheese and basil. Sent me home with a coupla slices, if you're interested."

Michonne's unsettled stomach seemed at war with the idea of food, despite how good an actual pizza sounded at the moment. "Maybe later," she replied, briefly pressing a hand to her middle. "I was going to make tea. Would you like any?"

"Sure. I can make it."

She stilled his movements with a brief pat to his shoulder, lingering long enough to gently scratch behind Ramona's ear. "I'm already up. I got it. Besides, you're looking real cozy with your new lady."

Rick chuckled at that, calling out to her retreating back. "You're still my favorite."

Her voice echoed from the kitchen. "Mmm, I know it."

She returned a few minutes later and passed over one of the mugs. "We only had the green jasmine left," she told him, gripping her own mug while settling beside her husband on the couch.

Ramona had moved to busying herself with a scrap of paper left on the couch, which left Rick's hand free to grab his cup, and he hummed as he took a small sip. "That's fine. Tastes perfect. Thank you."

She smiled, softly. "Of course. Aaron says Mrs. Chadha on Cardinal Street makes her own chai blend. I'm trying to be her new best friend."

"Sure she'd share with you, no questions asked. You're pretty damn popular lately 'round these parts." Rick's grin was wide as he set his mug down on the coffee table. "The famous Michonne Grimes…"

"Oh my god, I know you've been itching to use that one," she told him, laughing in spite of her funk. He had that effect on her, bringing out smiles she didn't realize she'd been holding onto; it seemed she always had a reserve of them, just for him.

"I have," he admitted with a shrug. "Been waitin' for the right time. You've been workin' hard these past few weeks. Right back in the mix."

"We both have," Michonne reminded him. "How's the treehouse coming along?"

Rick sipped at his tea and returned the mug to its spot on the table. "Well it's no town expansion, but I think my foreman's pleased with the progress."

Michonne shook her head. RJ's excitement over the project was still going strong. Though she knew the same could be said for Rick. She knew keeping idle and taking breaks was as foreign to him as it was impossible for her. And figured, perhaps something low-stakes like building and bonding with his son would help with the transition back to civilian life. "That's good to hear, baby."

A quiet settled between them while they finished their tea, comfortable enough as she typically was with her husband, but she didn't miss the looks he sent her way. Head tilted, studying her profile while she let Ramona nibble and paw at her fingers. But he wouldn't press her on it. He simply waited for her to speak again.

And Michonne, never one for sitting on important shit for too long, decided it was best to simply put it out there, so they could assess it together.

"I think I might be pregnant."

The dull thud of his porcelain mug hitting the wooden coffee table was the immediate reaction to that unexpected news and Rick glanced over at his wife, affecting a calm expression that didn't quite reach her dark eyes, looking a bit weary and slightly strained.

"'Might'?" he asked, unsurprised when Michonne shrugged at the question.

"Maybe. I won't know for sure until I take a test. So I guess it's just a feeling."

"Like a gut feeling?" Rick extended his hand towards her, palm side up, closing his fingers around hers when she finally scooted closer. "'Cause I usually trust yours more'n mine."

"Don't think my gut's in any position to give a firm position either way right now."

"So what's makin' you think this, then?"

Michonne leaned over, placing her mug next to his. "The exhaustion and brain fogginess, for one."

"You did look a lil green 'round the gills when I mentioned the goat cheese pizza," Rick pointed out.

"That too. Plus, I'm late. Two weeks, by my count. Which is…so unlike me to lose track."

Rick gazed at her, his expression thoughtful, and a little sheepish. "You've had a lot on your plate, sweetheart. And we ain't exactly been careful much…"

"Or at all," Michonne amended, her look as pointed as her words. Not accusatory, but definitely amused. The complete recklessness could certainly be blamed on making up for lost time.

"Hey now, I wasn't doin' all that by myself," he teased, arching a brow and waiting for the smile he knew his joke would get. Sure enough, he saw her full lips twitch, unable to stop the little grin and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "We have been all over each other."

Michonne exhaled. "Understatement." And it really was. Their honeymoon period had shown no signs of slowing down, despite their new normal of kids and obligations, and everything in between. He was as greedy for her as she was desperate for him, and they happily indulged in being all up on each other after years of being denied that physical closeness. One of the best parts of her day was being in Rick's arms, eager to make up for all the lost time.

Even now, a small part of her was annoyed, because any other time, they would have certainly taken advantage of having a kid-free house for the night. She should've had her knees to her ears, indulging Rick in his favorite way to please her, gripping his pretty curls while his mouth was between her thighs.

But there they were, drinking green tea on their yet to be defiled sectional couch and discussing another major (potential) life change.

"How're you feelin' about this, sweetheart?" Rick asked, curious at her contemplative silence. "'Cause I get bein' surprised by what could possibly happen. Seems like there's more goin' on here, though."

Her thumb traced circles on the inside of his palm. It was the right question, and she loved him for it. He knew her so well. "It'd be easy to say 'jumbled', but I'm not," Michonne replied, the tension easing from her shoulders at his pensive look. "I can't help but think about the past. With Andre, pregnancy was easy. Even through the morning sickness, the cravings, everything. Mike was a great partner through it all, and we had our families. But it was still hard, because my mom wasn't there. It was yet another milestone I couldn't have with her. It made me miss her so much. And then, with RJ…"

His grip tightened on her fingers, and he tugged her closer, Ramona hopping off the couch as Michonne settled at his side, his arm curling around her shoulders. "You needed that support, then."

"Yeah," she replied carefully, voice trembling under the weight of swelling emotions. "I was so scared when I found out. More than I was with Dre. Grief made everything bigger, even the happiness. He was a piece of you, and part of the future happiness we wanted for our family. I needed him and Judy to be safe. I could do it alone, but-"

"They were our plans. It should have been us, together."

Michonne nodded. "And then Jocelyn…"

Rick watched her hand, slim fingers hovering unthinkingly over her stomach, where he knew the faint scar resided, a dark reminder—like the brand on her back—of the fight she'd endured to save their daughter and the rest of the town's children, while heavily pregnant with their son. His anger was always immediate whenever he thought too hard on the incident. And especially now, seeing his brave and brilliant wife pouring out her feelings about the memory that carried a pain that still lingered, despite the passage of time.

"You've got good reasons to feel how you're feelin', Chonne." He pressed the words into her sweetly scented hair, then kissed her forehead for good measure.

"I suppose it didn't hit me until the possibility of another pregnancy, how much I was holding onto," she reasoned. The residual fear, the grief, and loneliness. Savoring the milestones of pregnancy and motherhood, and at the same time, having to navigate it all, by herself. Surrounded by friends and found family, but missing her man.

"Think that's natural, sweetheart. It can be a good thing but also a worry. Doesn't seem like that's changin', no matter how much the world does."

Michonne leaned back slightly, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. "Are you worried?"

Rick considered the question, his focus briefly shifting the frame hanging above the television. The small metal license plates bearing the names of their children hanging proudly beside the slightly faded handprints of his eldest son.

"I'm always worryin' about somethin' or other," he replied, rumbling voice slightly hoarse. "But we've gone through enough bullshit lately, we're kinda owed some good, right? Whatever that good looks like. Whether it's growin' our family, or lovin' on the one we have now. Either way, it's us in it together."

Cupping his cheek, Michonne brought him down for a kiss. Tender and loving, and so reassuring, she couldn't help but sigh against his lips. "You do realize you probably jinxed us, right?"

Rick grinned, and followed it with another kiss. "What's gonna happen, Chonne? We end up with twins?"

She whacked him across the chest, ignoring his very dramatic grunt. "Why would you say that? Don't put it into the universe."

"Think you caught my shirt button with that hit." Rick rubbed at his denim-covered chest, bottom lip poked out in a pout.

"Yeah well, you knocked me up."

He caught her grin and he snorted with amusement. "You can't blame me for somethin' we don't know for sure is goin' on."

"Well I'm gonna." She couldn't resist kissing him again, giggling as the glare melted from his handsome face as soon as their lips met. "You're so easy."

"Know what I like, sweetheart," he rumbled, sneaking another taste of her, tongue softly teasing her own with a muted moan.

"That's how we got here, cowboy," Michonne warned, but it didn't stop her from cupping his cheek, thumb skimming his salt and pepper beard while she deepened their kiss.

They savored the moment, sinking into the slow, drugging kisses as only two adults in a temporarily kid-free home could. The uncertainty of what lie ahead for their family slipped into the background. Michonne relaxed into her love's embrace and indulgent kisses, his rumbling groans and her quiet sighs that slipped in between heated presses. Eventually they parted, Michonne licking at the taste of him as she thumbed his bottom lip, perfectly pink and kiss-swollen.

"We'll make an appointment with Doctor B.," Rick said, all hoarse-voiced and warm-eyed as he gazed down at his wife.

"Sooner rather than later," Michonne agreed with a nod. "And if it's positive—"

"—Then we celebrate," he finished, with a small smile she couldn't help but return. "And if it's not—"

"—We're breaking out the Black Label, again."

He laughed. "Think Black Label might be the culprit in this situation, so that's fittin'. Full circle moment."

"We might need a plan of action moving forward. Making sure we don't end up making our own basketball team."

Rick snorted. "Like takin' a break?"

"I didn't say all that," Michonne pursed her lips, glaring at the teasing glint in his eyes. "But maybe, other things…"

A knowing grin tugged at his lips then, and her stomach did a flip for a different kind of reason. "I love some of them other things," Rick told her, his drawl thick and honeyed as he perused her shamelessly. "One in particular, I'm always thinkin' 'bout."

"Alright now." She swatted at his chest, knowing it would do little to stop him, especially since they both knew she enjoyed that particular skill…a lot. Dark eyes dropped to his mouth when he licked his lips, watching as his smile grew wider because he caught her and knew her thoughts had wandered exactly where his own vivid imagination usually resided. "You're being bad."

"Or a good distraction," he countered, seamlessly shifting from teasing to sweet concern. "How're you feelin'?"

"A little better," she replied, warmly.

Michonne's smile was soft and wide and so pretty he couldn't help but kiss it. Forehead pressed to hers, they sighed. Whatever the outcome, they were in it together. The surety of his presence, the safety that came with his brand of comfort was simply unmatched.

Her mind and body weren't at ease, and wouldn't be until they knew for sure what was going on. But Rick was solid and real, and present. Whatever her fears, or the nerves that jumbled her, he was with her.

"Thank you," Michonne whispered, knowing he would get the why.

"Thought I told you," Rick said, his voice a low hum and he gently nudged her nose with his. "You never have to do that, ever."

She didn't argue. Instead, she kissed him.

Two days and one doctor appointment later, the test came back negative.

Three days after that, her cycle.

And with it, a feeling of relief.

Chapter Text

“I think we can wrap for the day.” Michonne glanced around at the other members of the ASZ’s council, and shut her notebook. “We’ll meet again at the end of the week, and see where we’re at on the progress for the proposed training area and the new gardens in the development expansion.” 

“Sounds great, Michonne.” Aaron nodded along with the rest of the council members. “Good work everyone.” 

She lingered only a little while, comparing notes with Aaron and getting a weapons update from Hope before bidding them both a goodbye. With her meetings ended, and the Cherrywood expansion progress observed and reported on, Michonne was eager to leave the business of business behind and spend her downtime with her family. 

There was a chill in the late afternoon spring air when she exited the meeting house, shivering slightly in her thin green sweater, and wishing she was already home with a cup of something hot warming her hands.

She made a quick stop at the community pantry for their rations, pleased to see there had been an abundance of meat and eggs, thanks in part to the Safe Zone’s recent chicken surge. Michonne was busy running through possible recipe ideas for the week when a loud wolf whistle from behind jolted her from her thoughts. 

“Hey! Hot mama with the basket.” 

Shaking her head, she turned on the sidewalk to see Rick swaggering towards her in his easy, bowlegged gait, grinning broadly. His curls lifted lightly in the slight breeze, and he raked his hand through them as he approached.

“You better stop flirting with me,” she warned him, smiling through the toothless threat. “My husband’s around here somewhere, and he can fight now…” 

“I ain’t scared of him,” he replied with a laugh, chasing her lips with a soft kiss. “‘Sides, I’m feelin’ lucky.” 

Giggling, Michonne shifted the grocery basket to the side of her hip so she could cup his jaw. “Mmm, a risk-taker. I like it.” His hand snaked down, wrapping around her waist in a hold that was as gentle as the kiss he dropped to her forehead. 

“Finally get you to myself…” he rumbled, which Michonne had to smile at, because they were very much still in view of the few Safe Zone residents milling around, though no one’s attention seemed directly focused on them. Not that she would’ve noticed anyway. Rick was very good at keeping her distracted.

“You had me to yourself this morning,” she reminded him, her mind drifting back to their early AM cuddle, the session eventually interrupted by their children barreling in and piling on their bed. 

“I’ll take as much of you as I can get.” He leaned back, blue eyes holding her gaze. “Productive meetin’ with the crew?” 

“Mhm. Very productive. Expansion’s coming along. And Mrs. Chadha was working at the pantry today. Think I might be getting my chai hookup after all.” 

Rick smiled and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “I knew you would.”

They swayed slightly, cozy in the warmth between them, keeping out the barely there chill, soaking in the comfortable silence until eventually, Michonne spoke again. “What about you? Good session today?” 

He tensed only slightly at the mention of his weekly therapy appointments, and she swiped his cheek with her thumb in a soothing caress. 

“Not too bad,” Rick told her, his shoulders dropping as his gaze softened at her actions. “Thinkin’ we might have to make that trip to the Commonwealth happen soon. Doctor B. says they’ve got the means there to do the prosthetic proper.”

They parted but remained close, Michonne slipping her fingers through his as they ambled down the tree-lined street towards their brownstone. “And it’s really something you want? The new prosthetic?” 

Rick considered the question as they crossed the street. “Yeah, It is. Figure it’s also time for us to see this place in person, bein’ in an alliance and all.” 

“I agree,” Michonne said with a nod. “We can feel it out, make our own judgments.”

Rick gave her hand a gentle squeeze, glad they were on the same page, as he knew they would be. “Figure they can’t all be like the Civil Republic, especially if Ezekiel’s in charge.”

“Good point. The supply drops speak volumes about the kind of people they are, and what Ezekiel’s doing there. They’re willing to help.” She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “And I’m glad you want to accept some of that help for yourself.”  

“Yeah.” He had his reservations, knowing how and what the CRM made of him, and the significance of leaving that weapon behind. But he was willing to consider what the Commonwealth could offer, with a different prosthetic. “Guess it’s not so bad. Acceptin’ the new. ‘Sides, I can’t be in the cool kids club with Aaron without one.” 

She looked over, laughing at his ridiculous joke and the grin he sported. “Cool kids club, huh?” 

“That’s what Aaron told me the kids are callin’ it. Somethin’ tells me they all got it from Jerry.” 

Michonne shook her head. “Really not surprising. Speaking of children, do you happen to know where ours are?”

“They’re home,” Rick told her, swinging their joined hands.  “Classes let out early, so they’re either doin’ homework or throwin’ a rager.”

Her giggle slipped out, loud and unchecked and she nudged his shoulder. “You’re so damn ridiculous.” 

“You bring it outta me, sweetheart.” 

Looking at his grin, sweet and crooked and brightening his handsome face, some days it was hard to believe he was the same man she’d encountered at the CRM. He shed the military black, trading the armor for jeans and his button downs, once again resembling the rugged Georgia cowboy full of promises about building a future together. They were both different, of course; the years they lost saw to that. But at the core, what remained was the unchanging, grounding love. 

And Michonne’s need to bust his chops every once in a while.

“Your sense of humor’s always been kind of hit or miss.” 

Rick scoffed as he followed her up their front steps, taking the moment to admire her jean-clad bottom bouncing in his view, before he was back to being offended. “Don’t do me like that, Chonne. I’m funny.” 

Michonne passed him the basket of groceries and unlocked the door. “I’ve never known you to tell a joke on purpose.”

“Not sayin’ I’m Lenny Bruce, but I’ve gotten a few chuckles. Even from you.”

“Your references are dating you, old man.” She couldn’t help teasing him, if only for the glare he tossed in her direction, which actually did make her laugh and she had to give him points for effort. 

“The disrespect…” Rick mumbled, swatting at her butt when they entered the house, and nimbly dodging her retaliation as he headed to the kitchen to drop off their groceries. 

Judith and RJ were at the kitchen table, with Judith cuddling Ramona in her lap and RJ nose deep in his reading, though from Rick’s quick glance over, it didn’t seem to be school-related. 

“Homework all finished?” Michonne asked when she entered the kitchen, already working to unpack their groceries from the basket. 

“Yup,” Judith answered, smiling when her father kissed her hair and gave Ramona a quick pat. He ruffled RJ’s curls, who looked up long enough to greet his parents before returning to the adventures in his comic book. “It was an easy day.” 

“That’s good,” Rick said. “You need help with dinner, Chonne?”

Michonne peered from the open refrigerator door at her husband. “Who’s helping?” 

Rick pointed to his chest. “The one who’s offerin’, ma’am.” 

Which greatly amused her, judging from the smile threatening to slip out as she watched him, his hand on his hip and head tilted in a perplexed expression. 

Considering the majority of his meals for the last eight or so years had been prepared in a mess hall by workers and eaten either alone at a table or in the solitude of his lonely apartment, Michonne had a bit of grace when it came to Rick and meal expectations. 

Prior to his untimely exit from Alexandria, they more or less split the business of cooking. As the earliest riser, Rick had always handled breakfast; making the coffee and one hell of a tasty scramble, not to mention the best pancakes she’d ever had outside of a diner.

“You think you can handle that? You’re great with breakfast, baby, but dinner—” 

“Dad made spaghetti the other night, Mama!” RJ offered, and Rick gestured towards his son. 

“There ya go. Thanks, Junior. And look, Chonne, they ate it and they’re still standin’.” 

Michonne raised a finger, ready to counterpoint. “Hold up, you only boiled the noodles. That sauce was all me, Grimes. That was in the freezer from last week.” 

“Ooh, Mom got you there, Daddy,” Judith chimed in eagerly, with Ramona meowing along at the lighthearted back and forth. 

Rick clutched his chest, wounded at the betrayal. “You too, Judybug? Whose side are y’all on?” 

“Any side that feeds us, really,” she replied, earning a chimed in ‘yeah!’ from her little brother. “You make the best pancakes though. Mom’s just better at dinner stuff.” 

“That’s my girl,” Michonne hi-fived her daughter and booped Ramona’s nose, while ignoring Rick’s dramatic scoff. “We’ve got a lot of tomatoes from the pantry today. How about tomato soup?” 

“I’ll help!” RJ tossed down his comic and went searching the lower cupboards for the baking pan, eager to assist his mother in one of his favorite meals. 

“Alright, alright.” Rick raised his hand and dropped onto one of the stools by the island counter. “I’ll stick to my damn pancakes. At least y’all gave me that. But let the record show that I can cook—” 

“Of course, baby,” Michonne conceded, not even bothering to hide her laughter at the kids’ giggling. “We’ve all got our strengths.”

“Like how RJ’s better at shootin’ with his bow than I am,” Judith explained. 

“I am!” RJ chimed in. “But Judy’s cool with her sword, like Mama.” 

“That’s right,” Michonne replied cheerily. She pulled out the cutting board and knife, setting them beside the large bowl of large, ripe tomatoes. “You know what goes perfectly with tomato soup, though? Grilled cheese. And your Dad makes the best ones.”

“Really?” RJ looked between his parents, happy to learn something new about his father. “The best?” 

Rick’s smile was small but fond, remembering their early days in Alexandria. When everyone had finally branched out to their respective houses, and it had only been him, Michonne, and the kids. Somehow they knew when the other wasn’t sleeping, the pair of them eventually wandering down to the kitchen, taking advantage of the new setting and being spoiled for food choices. 

He made them grilled cheese sandwiches, and Michonne didn’t know if it was just having actual food to eat after weeks of starving or if he was simply a wizard with the buttery bread and melted cheese slices, but it was the best damn thing she’d eaten, and she’d told him exactly that, savoring his reaction to her compliment almost as much as the sandwich itself. His initial surprised shyness gave way to mellow, almost flirtatious confidence at having pleased her. 

Since then, whenever they had the means for it, late night grilled cheese became their thing. A token of their friendship, a signifier of their growing closeness, a peace offering that bridged the occasional disagreement, and something to savor and safeguard when romance bloomed and deepened. 

In the years without him, she often tried to recreate whatever magic he conjured with it, trying to figure out his secret, but never managed to get it quite right. Just one of the many ways his presence was missed.

Michonne’s gaze drifted to her husband, meeting his eyes as she spoke again, her voice soft and warm. “The best I’ve ever had.”

“Can you make ‘em tonight, Dad?” Judith asked, smiling at the loving looks between her parents. 

RJ nodded, shuffling the Michonne’s cut tomatoes onto the baking pan. “Yeah, Dad? Can you?” 

Rick turned his focus to his children and with a heaving, dramatic sigh, he slid from the stool. “Well since y’all asked so nicely, I think I can get a lil somethin’ together.” 

He gave Michonne’s hip a gentle squeeze on his way to the fridge, savoring the cozy sounds of his wife and children’s chatter in the background.

Chapter Text

She was warm and solid and real in his hold, the two of them fast asleep in their bed. 

And then she was gone. 

Rick opened his eyes, still hazy from the sleep that had edged into unsettled when his body registered the fact that Michonne wasn’t beside him. That he could no longer feel her nose pressed into his neck, with her steady, sleepy breaths warming his skin. 

No, there was nothing but cool, empty sheets. 

For a wild, brief moment, the panic rose in his throat; the sensation ugly and awful and familiar, and he blinked to alertness, taking in his surroundings: the soft sheets beneath him, the clean smell of the t-shirt he wore, and the feel of his sweatpants beneath the fingers that gripped the material, keeping him grounded and present. 

He could blame the mini-spiral on being shaken from the peace that came with being close to his wife again. Now fully awake, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to that comfortable place without her.

Stifling a yawn, Rick slipped out of bed, stuffed his feet into his slippers and shuffled from their room. The house was silent, and Rick did a cursory check in the other bedrooms. Judith, sprawled on her bed in a way that reminded him so much of Carl, dark disheveled hair across her pillow. RJ was wrapped in his blankets, and Rick was just as amused as the first time he saw his son’s sleeping habits, burrowed and bundled up like a burrito, with just the top of his curls visible. 

The sky was visible through the windows as he trudged down the steps, and he knew time hovered between late evening and the early dawn. He could see the traces of it, the way the light moved in bluish gray that would eventually lighten to oranges and pinks when the sun would push through properly. 

The faint visibility allowed him to seek out his love, his heart lurching slightly at the sight of Michonne, standing in front of the porch railing and taking in the tranquil sight of a still sleeping Alexandria. He wrapped his arms around her middle, sighing when she leaned into him, her back against his front, and fingers stroking his arm. 

The ease was instinctive, as effortless as the kiss he pressed to the spot behind her ear. 

“Did I wake you?” Michonne asked, her mellow voice quiet in the cool twilight.

“Not havin’ you there did,” he replied, nose nudging at the shell of her ear, letting the sweet rumble of the sentiment linger against her skin, and he felt her shiver beneath her thin, long-sleeved shirt. “Everythin’ okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” And she reached back, brushing the curls at the nape of his neck. She was, and he believed her. Though he was certain there was something else responsible for the early wake up. 

“Bad dream?” 

Michonne shook her head, the silky material of her headscarf brushing against his beard as she turned slightly in his embrace, enough to catch his gaze in the weak light. “Not really. Just a feeling. I wanted to watch the sunrise. I knew you’d eventually find me.” 

He smiled at that, and pressed it to her cheek, the pair of them gently swaying together. “Took a minute. Maybe a lil bit of panickin’, but I’m here.” 

Briefly, she squeezed his wrist, her eyes drifting to the view in front of them. The Safe Zone still swathed in darkness, the slowly peeking daylight beyond the horizon. It wouldn’t be long before the sunrise. The streets were quiet, even the bevy of animals bedded down for the night. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” she whispered, eyes drifting shut when she felt the brush of his fingers at the rolled waistband of her shorts. His shorts, really, because she had a fondness for sleeping in his boxers. 

Rick patted her hip, keeping his fingers tucked between her shirt and shorts, savoring the feel of her skin, warm and silky under his touch. “If it means havin’ you like this, I guess I don’t mind it.” Closing his eyes, he dropped his forehead and breathed a sigh against her shoulder. 

“Very smooth.” The smile in her voice brought out a small one of his own. 

“Just bein’ honest.”

“I understand. Best time of the day for it, you’re sleepy enough, your brain lets the thoughts flow.” 

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied, sleepiness stretching his low drawl into a rich, lazy rumble. “Used to dream about this. Me and you, on the porch. In the evenin’, talkin’ how we used to. Gettin’ to unwind and discuss the day. Wakin’ up to you every mornin’, before everybody else. Havin’ that time just for us. On my worst days, when everythin’ hurt to think about…was nothin’ I wanted more. You and me, the quiet and some coffee.”

He could hear it, the hitch of her breathing, the little tremble and he knew, she understood. The missing was hard to shake; beneath the big feelings and ways the absence of the other affected their lives, it was also the little things, the minute details of their relationship that they had to live without. The partnership. The comfort. The familiarity of having a partner in crime, the reliance and safety, while embracing the vulnerability of love.

They were all theirs, the collection of moments and pieces that made up their love; even the daily frustrations and petty annoyances. It had been denied to them for so long, existing only in snatches of memories. But they were back together now, reunited and trying to find their place in their new reality, together. And nothing came close to the real thing. 

“It was harder in the mornings,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, but he could feel them, vibrating under his lips when he pressed them to her neck in a tender kiss. “Mornings were our thing. Sometimes, I’d wake up and swear I could feel you. Kissing me, just like this.” 

Rick did it again for good measure, tightening his arms while nibbling the underside of her jaw. “We got plenty more mornings like these…” 

“As many as I want.” Her voice was still low, and firm, in her ‘no bullshit’ kind of way that always sent a heated shiver racing down his spine. 

His drowsy laughter resonated against her throat. “Yes ma’am. I’m a fan of mornin’ Michonne. Even if she is a real stickler ‘bout how I handle my toothbrush.”

Michonne pressed her fingers to her lips in an attempt to stifle the giggle that tumbled out anyway, breaking through the peace and settling warmly between them. “We have a cup. They belong in that cup. Not scattered on the counter.” 

“It’s gotta air dry first, Chonne,” Rick explained, though secretly pleased to know that despite all the years lost between them, this particular petty argument withstood the test of time, the pair falling right back into their old routine. “I don’t want toothbrush water inside the cup. Then it’s all nasty at the bottom.” 

And he knew she was rolling her eyes, without even seeing her face, and that made him smile. “Amateur hour. You shake out the toothbrush before you put it in the cup, Grimes.” 

Rick figured they could go on like this until the actual sunrise, so instead he opted for maximum distraction, taking her chin in hand, his two fingered touch feather light and as tender as the kiss he planted on her lips. 

Mouth slanted over her own, soft and sensuous like the moans between them, coaxing as many sounds as possible from her until Michonne turned in his slackened embrace, fingers toying with his curls as she cupped the back of his neck.

“I know what you’re doing,” she said, giving his bottom lip a teasing bite. It didn’t stop her from lingering in the moment, taking her fill of the head-spinning kissing that made her clutch him tighter to her, indulging his hunger while satiating her own.

“I know,” he rumbled, simple and straight to the point, because he also knew she enjoyed the hell out of it, too.

Rick built them up, parting her mouth and offering a rough moan, while licking out traces of her pleasure with the slow, honeyed presses she loved. Eventually he cooled it down, with the sweet, smacking pecks that left her melting against him, brain pleasantly fuzzed out, swaying in his arms while he hummed his delight. 

His smile was small and satisfied, and he kissed her cheeks before resting his forehead against hers. There were birds now, their distant chirping songs signaling the approaching dawn.

Michonne’s fingers brushed his cheek and she gave him one last kiss, then turned back, watching the light stretching across the slowly brightening sky. 

They stayed just like that, greeting another morning, wrapped in each other’s warm embrace.

Chapter Text

“Your children were fighting today.”

Rick stilled at the words Michonne opened with, his lips still hovering near her, where he'd been about to kiss her cheek in greeting. He followed through with it, hand resting on her hip, giving it a soft squeeze and brushing a brief, sweet peck to her clenched jaw, in the hopes that it would ease the tension he could feel vibrating from her crossed arms and ramrod-straight posture. 

“They were fightin’ with each other?” 

It was hard to wrap his head around that one. Aside from the usual brother-sister squabbles, which never really escalated beyond basic disagreements, Judith and RJ had a pretty solid sibling relationship. Rick wasn’t sure what could have possibly changed. 

Michonne shook her head, her eyes quickly glancing down their street. She’d been waiting for Rick when he approached, fresh from his ride with Aaron. It had been important for him to get back in the saddle…literally. Learning to navigate riding one-handed had been a recent focus, but something he was determined about. 

And Michonne could understand the benefits, and mainly how it seemed to ground her husband. His shoulders, which had been relaxed when he initially approached her, seemed tighter now, broader and pushed back in a stiff line while he breathed out a slow exhale. He waited for her to explain the situation that she herself had walked into, when she’d arrived at the main gate to retrieve their children. 

“No, not each other. They were fighting with another kid, during their archery lesson.” 

Rick rubbed at his brow with his thumb, lips pursed as he took in the news. “Anybody hurt?”

“Not them,” Michonne replied, a tightness to her usual smooth husk, a sure sign that she was very, very bothered. “Hope managed to break it up before things went too far. But the other boy has some bruises. Nothing serious, according to Hope.”

Rick shook his head, his look incredulous at the information. “And they ain't sayin’ what it was all for?”

“Not yet.” Michonne dropped her arms, but didn’t lose the stiffness nor the flinty look in her eyes. “I haven't asked them yet. I was waiting for you.”

Team effort, then. Rick reached for her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, his thumb catching the collar of her knitted sweater.  He could feel the tension leaving her muscles, and he let his hand catch hers when it dropped, briefly linking their fingers together while he tugged her up their front stairs. 

“Let's go see what our lil street fighters gotta say for themselves.”

The reassuring touch and his quick quip had the intended effect, and Rick could see the flicker of a smile cross Michonne's pretty features that she quickly schooled into a more neutral look by the time they reached the living room. 

Judith and RJ were seated on the couch, and a lingering once over revealed them to be no worse for wear. Hair unruffled, clothes still intact, and no visible bruising. If it weren't for the looks on their faces (a quiet stubbornness on their girl and solemn focus with their boy), Rick would have never guessed something like a fight had occurred.

Rick took a seat in one of the easy chairs opposite the couch and waited for Michonne to sit in the other before clearing his throat. “So. Y’all wanna tell us what happened today?” 

The youngest Grimeses exchanged a series of looks, complete with shoulder shrugging and eyebrow raising that, had it been any other circumstances, Rick would’ve probably found it funny. Truthfully he still kind of did, and had to temper the smile that threatened to slip out, especially because he knew Michonne was watching all of them, taking in every detail. 

Judith sighed and faced her parents, gently fidgeting her fingers in her lap. “Should we apologize first?” 

“What do you think you need to be sorry for?” Michonne asked simply, curious about her daughter’s response.

You could take the lawyer out of the courtroom, Rick mused silently. 

“It wasn’t Jude’s fault, Mama,” RJ chimed in, eager to rush to his sister’s defense. “She was stickin’ up for me.” 

“So was RJ, for me.” Judith added, sparing a glance at her brother before meeting her mother’s questioning expression. “And you always said, we don’t fight unless we’re defendin’ ourselves. And we were. Jake was messin’ with RJ first.” 

Rick looked between his children. “And Jake… that’s the one y’all were fightin’ with?” 

Judith nodded, her mouth in a firm, frustrated line. “He’s mad, ‘cause he sucks at the bow, and RJ’s better’n him. He’s always sayin’ somethin’ rude, callin’ RJ a baby or weirdo. Ms. Hope calls him out, but he doesn’t care, just keeps talkin’ under his breath. But I still hear it.” Her look grew determined, resembling one that Rick could plainly see she’d obviously adapted from both of them. “So I told him it’s not RJ’s fault he sucks. And that walkers are already a problem. We don’t need humans bein’ assholes, too.” 

Rick sputtered with a cough that suspiciously sounded like a gravelly laugh, and he muffled it with his hand while he met Michonne’s stern look. 

Michonne turned back to her daughter. “I understand you wanted to defend your brother. And I’m proud of you for being brave and calling out someone who insulted him . But you know better than using that kind of language, Judith.”

“I know, Mom.” Judith’s shoulders shifted as she dipped her head in apology. “I’m sorry about that. But he was being an…a-hole.” 

“He was,” RJ said. “He got mad when everybody laughed, then he pushed Judy. That’s why I hit him. Mama said we don’t start fights, but we protect each other.” 

“Mama’s right, as always.” His annoyance simmered under his skin at the thought of someone putting their hands on Judith, but Rick offered his son a gentle smile, glad to know the two were quick to look out for each other. “You look out for family. And you don’t aim to hurt other people, even when you’re defendin’ yourself. Only when you absolutely have to.” 

“How do we know when that is?” RJ asked, curious brown eyes peering at his parents. The question so child-like in its simplicity and complicated in the knowing. 

Rick looked to Michonne, finding her gaze already on him and she gave him a quick nod. “Never gonna be the same in every situation, Junior,” Rick answered honestly. “That’s the tough part. Figuring it out.”

Michonne offered her children a small smile. “Your father’s right. But what you’re doing right now? Talking to us, asking these important questions, and thinking about how to react is a good first step. Anger has its place, and it can get things done, but anger first and always in any situation makes people reckless—” 

“—And bein’ reckless has consequences,” Judith finished quietly. “We know, Mama.” 

“I know you do, baby girl. And it isn’t always easy to remember in the moment, when someone hurts you, or someone you care about. I understand.” 

“It ain’t easy,” Rick agreed. “But that’s when you know it’s the right thing to do, when it’s a hard choice. It’s what my parents used to always tell me.“ 

“That’s kinda confusing.” came RJ’s response, and this time Rick let his laugh slip out freely, a muted huff of amusement, because he could recall having a similar reaction to his father’s words, when he was around RJ’s age. 

“It is, son. But you understand it more, the older you get. Don’t make it any easier, but you can be smarter ‘bout it.” 

“So…we’re not in trouble?” Judith looked between her mother and father. 

“Well we’re not sentencin’ y’all to hard labor or anythin’,” Rick replied, shaking his head. “I do think y’all need to apologize to Ms. Hope for disruptin’ the lesson. And if there’s another issue with this Jake kid, then you tell me and your Mama. No more swingin’ on a-holes, alright?” 

“Yes, Dad,” came the twin responses, and Rick gave them a slight nod. 

“Alright. Gon’ upstairs, now. I’m sure those rooms could use a good cleanin’.” 

RJ sighed and slouched deeper into the couch. “Oh man…” 

“I thought you said we weren’t in trouble!” Judith said, groaning as she bounced up from the couch. 

Michonne shook her head, and pointed between her children. “You’re not. But some dusting might keep your mouth too busy for those curse words you shouldn’t be using. And you, little man, you can use those hands to make up that bed instead of hitting other people with your bow.” 

“You hit ‘em with your bow?” Rick’s head titled, brow arched in surprise at his youngest while RJ shifted in his seat. “Junior…” 

“In the knee!” RJ insisted, not protesting when Judith pulled him to stand. “I didn’t get him in the face.” 

“It was kinda funny, he was on the ground, hollerin’ like a big ba—” Judith’s laughter trailed off at her mother’s stern expression and she tugged on her brother’s sleeve. “Come on, RJ. We should go.” 

They watched them scurry off, the heavy sound of footsteps carried up the stair and to the second floor. 

“Jesus.” Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, and exhaled, a small laugh slipping out. “Do we need to talk to this kid’s parents?” 

Michonne sighed and sank into her chair. “We probably should. Jake’s mother is part of the Cherrywood construction crew. Aaron said his father died during the fight with The Whisperers. Hope seems to believe that’s one of the reasons he’s been picking at RJ, besides being better with the bow.” 

Rick gave that bit of information a quiet hum. “Right. RJ’s dad came back, and his dad didn’t.” 

“Mmm. Something like that.” 

“I get it.” Rick slipped from the chair and held out his hand towards his wife, pulling her up when their fingers threaded together. “Don’t mean he gets to be an asshole to our kids, though.” 

“Of course not,” Michonne replied smoothly, giving her husband’s fingers a firm squeeze. “That was never an option.” 

Rick grinned, taking in the note of vigilance in her soft voice and the intense look in dark eyes, thoroughly enjoying his wife in protective mode, knowing her earlier annoyance wasn’t entirely about their children’s behavior, but what garnered their physical reaction. She was just as bothered about them being messed with as he was, and he liked seeing her so worked up. “Yeah?” 

She could hear the amusement in his question, and Michonne turned, shaking her head at him. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” 

“I don’t want ‘em fightin’, but knowin’ they can take care of each other? I do like that.” Rick pulled her close, waiting until Michonne wrapped an arm around his waist before he kissed her cheek, letting his lips drift lower until they met hers in a soft kiss. “They’re good kids, sweetheart. And that’s all on you.” 

Knowing the task she had, taking care of their small children on her own, for all those years. Holding aside her own grief and pain to be present for them, and growing them into the kind-hearted and fearless kids that he loved fiercely, even while still getting to know them. Rick couldn’t help but be in awe of his family.

Blue eyes regarded her, brimming with simmering love and appreciation, warming her throughout as they were nestled in each other’s hold. He didn’t have to say much more, she could read it all in his face.

“You know they get that fighting from you, though” Michonne teased, her warm laughter settling between them when he nibbled at her neck. “Always ready to swing on somebody.” 

Rick arched a brow, his head tilted in amusement at her bold evasiveness. “That’s both of us. I’m not the only stubborn one with a temper.” 

“Are you talking about me?” She looked at him from beneath her long, dark lashes, the soft tone and sweet look not fooling him for a second, even if his pulse raced from her antics. She was beautiful, bold faced lying and all. 

“You know I am. They’re us, isn’t that what you said? Means we’re gonna be breakin’ up fights for the rest of our lives.” 

His sigh, loud and long, made her laugh out loud again, and she cupped his face, bringing him closer for another kiss, deeper this time and a little playful as she nipped his bottom lip, pulling away with a muted moan. 

“I’m looking forward to it, Grimes.”