A/N: As always, thank you for your patience! Enjoy!

Chapter 23: Temperatures Rising

Shit.

It couldn't have been more than ten minutes since I said goodnight to Rick, but that was all the time I needed to know that sleep was not an option for me.

And it was all Rick's fault.

I looked over my shoulder to give him a glare of all glares only to find him buried under a blanket on his airbed… sound asleep.

"Rick," I whispered, trying to wake him up without waking up Gleggie or Beth. "Rick!" I whispered louder after he didn't answer. "RICK!" I whispered-shouted.

He didn't so much as twitch, but a very discontent sound did come from Maggie.

I froze in place and held my breath.

Whether it was an accident or not, waking Maggie up before the sun was up was always an ordeal, which is why I waited a few minutes after her breathing synced back up with Glenn's before I pulled my blanket over my head and allowed myself to breathe normally again. My glare of all glares would have to wait until Rick woke up on his own.

And until anyone woke up, I would have to pass the time all by my lonesome with my wide awake, completely alert mind.

I squeezed my eyes shut and bit down on my bottom lip.

This really was all Rick's fault. I found out yesterday how that thumb of his was trouble, and now I knew his fingers were just as bad. The echo of them digging into my waist pulsated through me, and that ache—the one that had taken a 20-minute shower to ease—was back.

"Fuck," I whispered to myself, squirming from the sensation.

In truth, I didn't mind the feeling; I loved that it was Rick Grimes who was making me feel this way. The problem was feeling this way right here, right now. I needed privacy. Desperately. The nine other bodies in this house, however, ensured I wasn't going to find any.

I started to curl into a defeated, achy ball when my eyes popped open.

I wasn't going to find privacy in this house, but my condo was only fifteen minutes away, it was empty, and it had one hell of a detachable showerhead.

It was crystal clear what I had to do.

I quietly peeled back my blanket, sat up on the loveseat, and crept out of the living room. I crept through the kitchen to the front door, not bothering to stop for my shoes, my purse, my phone, or something to wear instead of my pajamas. I didn't need any of those things.

I just needed my keys to get in my car to drive to my condo to take care of this ache. I would drive back to the house and creep back to the loveseat before anyone realized I'd left.

It was a good plan.

Well, it was a good plan until it wasn't.

I had my keys in hand and was about to unlock the front door when I heard someone walk into the room. Without turning around and without him saying a word, I knew it was Rick. His confident, bowlegged stride made my body tremble.

"Where're you goin', sweetheart?"

Fuck.

His hushed voice, oozing with the authority he exerted as a sheriff's deputy, made my body tremble even more.

"I…" I started to say, but I could hardly think straight after his footsteps came to a stop behind me.

He was standing close… close enough for me to feel the heat from his body drawing out and playing with the heat from mine.

"You what?" he whispered in my ear.

My keys slipped from my hand and landed noisily on the floor.

"I'm..." But I still couldn't think straight.

"You're what?" he whispered, brushing his soft lips against my earlobe.

Fuuuuck.

If Rick didn't stop doing what he was doing, finding privacy would no longer matter.

But Rick didn't stop.

His right hand covered mine and he slowly raised it above my head, gently pressing my palm against the door.

"Michonne," he drawled out in a whisper.

Fuuuuck.

"You goin' somewhere?" he asked, covering my left hand with his, raising that hand above my head, and pressing that palm against the door. "You sneakin' out on me?"

Using his foot, he nudged my feet wider apart.

"C-condo," I breathlessly stammered.

Rick sighed in displeasure and secured my wrists to the door with one hand while lowering his other to my waist, not quite digging his fingers into it but gripping it tightly. Those fingers of his danced with the hemline of my pajama top before working their way under it to my bare skin.

I hissed from the contact and planted my forehead against my arm.

"You runnin' away from me, 'Chonne?"

My chest heaved as he inched his fingers upwards.

"You leavin' me?" he asked gruffly, inching his fingers higher.

When he flattened his hand and redirected its course, my knees started to buckle. They almost gave out when he slid his hand, tortuously slow, down my stomach to the top of my pajama pants.

"I'm…" I whispered after taking a deep breath. "I'm coming—"

He cut me off with a growl against the side of my neck. "You cummin' for me, sweetheart?"

Jesus!

"I'm... coming back," I panted out.

"Nah," he quickly disagreed. "I want you cummin', Michonne."

Jesus Christ!

He nuzzled his face against the back of my head and dipped his hand just below the waistband of my pants.

"When I reach into your panties—"

I whimpered.

"—how wet are you gonna be?" he asked, lightly grazing my panties with his fingertips. "Cuz I think you're soaked, sweetheart."

Jesus Fucking Christ!

"You… s-said… no… kissing," I panted.

He slid his fingertips inside my panties.

"This ain't kissin', Michonne."

Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!

I threw my head back against his shoulder and let out a roar of a moan.

This was so…

And it was so…

But it was also…

It was also wrong.

It was all so wrong.

Richard Arthur Grimes was beyond stubborn. If he was waiting to give me a perfect last first kiss, he wouldn't have me moaning like this against the front door. He wouldn't have his hand down my pants.

As good as it felt—and it felt fucking fantastic, this…

"This isn't real," I whispered, turning my head to look into his eyes.

"Yes, it is," he stated firmly, gazing into my eyes with a fierceness burning in his. "Now wake up."

Wake… What?

I felt myself being lightly shaken.

"Michonne, wake up."

When I felt a hand on my shoulder shaking me more persistently, I opened my eyes.

"Wake up, sweetheart," Rick said softly.

I looked around in confusion. Instead of standing at the front door, I was lying down on the loveseat. Instead of Rick standing behind me with his hand down my pants, he was squatting beside me with his hand on my shoulder.

What.

The.

Fuck.

I rubbed my eyes and groaned.

Everything Rick had said and done—everything I felt because of what Rick had said and done, was a dream? And dream me had the gall to question reality when dream Rick was about to...

I held my face in my hands and groaned again.

"Unbelievable!" I grumbled to myself, dragging my hands down my face. "Un-fucking-believable."

After groaning again and giving myself an eye roll of all eye rolls, my eyes found Rick. The candle he lit earlier cast an incredibly soft glow in the room, but I immediately recognized the look of worry on his face and knew it had nothing to do with my groaning and grumbling.

"Nugget?" I asked in alarm, kicking my blanket off and shooting up into a sitting position. "Judith?"

"Shhh! Gleggie and Beth are still sleepin'," he cautioned, quickly glancing at the three to make sure they were in fact still asleep. He was well aware of the danger involved in prematurely waking a certain Greene. "And Carl and Judith are fine," he told me. "It's Daryl."

My stomach dropped as my mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. Daryl had probably woken up, convinced himself to track down That Piece of Shit Shane, found That Piece of Shit Shane, and lost his shit. He was probably sitting in a jail cell somewhere outside of King County where Rick had no pull to get him out of trouble.

Shit!

I started mentally going through my savings accounts, figuring how much I could withdraw from each to contribute towards Daryl's bail.

"Hey, it's not that bad," Rick said, moving to a kneeling position between my legs and resting his hands on my thighs.

I could feel the warmth of his hands through my pajama pants, but I wasn't able to find much comfort in it when "not that bad" was still bad.

"What's wrong?" I asked anxiously.

"Michonne, I need you to stay calm and quiet, ok?"

I nodded. I could stay calm. I could stay quiet.

"Ok," he said, giving my thighs a little squeeze. "Daryl just got a call from one of the overnight counselors at his job. Do you remember Oscar?"

I nodded again.

Oscar started working with Daryl at the K.C. Regional Youth Detention Center about two years ago. Rick and I met him last year when we participated in a career development panel he organized for the center's high school-aged population. We hadn't spent a significant amount of time with Oscar since then, but there was a lot to like about him.

Similar to Daryl, he viewed his job as more than just a paycheck. He openly discussed with us how it was his calling to work with the children at the center, instilling in them a belief that they were more than the juvenile offender label they'd been given by the judicial system. I had no idea he was working nights now, but I hoped that was his choice and not a result of the budget cuts Daryl told us about.

"Oscar has a family emergency," Rick said carefully. "He asked Daryl to come in and cover the rest of his shift."

"Ok," I said, not understanding the prob—

Oh.

I shook my head and crossed my arms. "No, Rick. That's not happening!"

"Shhh! Keep your voice down," he pleaded.

"But, Rick," I whispered as I leaned forward to look directly into his eyes, "if Daryl goes in, he won't be able to call out today. If he doesn't call out, he won't be with us when we meet That Piece of Shit Shane!"

"Shhh… and I know, but Oscar wouldn't have called at five-somethin' in the mornin' if it wasn't serious, Michonne."

I felt for Oscar and his family, I really did, but Daryl belonged with us today. We had dibs.

Rick rubbed his hands up and down my thighs a few times before standing up and holding his hands out to help me up. "Come on… Daryl's in the front room callin' around to see if anyone else can go in."

I ignored his hands and slumped back against the loveseat. The past few days had been filled with frustration, after frustration, after frustration, and it seemed like today was going to be more of the same. It didn't matter how many calls Daryl made. He would end up going to work because why would the universe have it any other way?

"Come on, sweetheart," Rick said softly, gesturing with his hands for me to get up. "Please."

I rolled my eyes, but my irritation didn't stand a chance against Rick's "please", so I put my hands in his and allowed him to pull me up. As soon as I was on my feet, I yawned and stretched away the last traces of sleep from my body.

"Good mornin'," Rick whispered after I lowered my arms from my stretch.

My mouth opened to return the greeting, but…

Wow.

I was going to have to add candlelight to the list of lights that Rick looked amazing in. The way the light gently hugged the curves of his face made his face shine in the warmest, coziest way.

"Good morning," I whispered.

He gave me a bright smile and took my hand to lead me to the front room, but I wasn't quite ready to check on Daryl. As much as I appreciated how well Rick's face paired with candlelight, I wasn't blind to the circles under his eyes.

"Hold up a second," I requested, pulling on his hand to stop him from walking away. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

He slowly shook his head. "I didn't," he admitted. "I couldn't. Too much runnin' through my mind, I guess."

"You should've woken me up. I would've kept you company, Rick," I told him in a scolding way

"You fell asleep five minutes after we said our goodnights, Michonne. I wasn't gonna interrupt that. You were tired and you needed your rest… Besides," he said, lowering his gaze to watch his thumb skim across my knuckles, "...it kinda sounded like you were havin' a pretty good dream."

He raised his eyes back to mine and I tried my very best to appear unaffected by what he just said. I maintained eye contact, I blinked when I was supposed to, and I looked at him with what I hoped was indifference on my face.

But on the inside, it was all chaos and shits.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

It sounded like I was having a pretty good dream.

Sounded like?!

Shit!

Dream me had panted, whimpered, moaned, and ached. I could only imagine the noises that I had actually been making.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

I was all set to deny, deny, deny when Rick's thumb passed over my knuckles again, derailing the denial.

"Were you?" he asked in a low voice. "Havin' a good dream?"

"I..."

I didn't know if it was because of the question he asked, because of the honest answer I wasn't going to give, or because of the way his eyes were boring into mine, but my mind momentarily blanked.

"... don't remember," I finally murmured.

He stared at me a beat and tilted his head. "Is that so?"

Shit.

My cheeks were on fire—a three-alarm, no water in sight kind of fire—and for the first time in my life, I didn't think my melanin could save me.

Maintain eye contact, Michonne.

I maintained eye contact.

Blink, Michonne.

I blinked.

Speak, Michonne.

"Uh huh," I answered.

He gave me the look that always preceded his accusation that I was shaming my profession, so I was shocked when all he said was "Ok" instead of telling me that I was a terrible liar. But I wasn't about to question it.

"Ok," I repeated, proud of myself for sounding so unaffected by him. "We should Daryl."

Rick quirked and eyebrow and amusement rippled through his heavenly sky blues.

Damnit.

"Check on... We should check on Daryl," I muttered.

"I agree," he said with a teasing smile. "We should Daryl."

Neither of us moved.

We stood there, staring at each other—the amusement from my blunder fading away; my heart's beat growing faster and louder; the air around us growing thicker; Rick's eyes penetrating mine with an intensity I'd never felt before—until Rick gave me a lazy smile, tugged on my hand, and led me to the front room.

I stared at the unruly curls on the back of his head and let out a quiet breath. A few more seconds of eye contact like that, and I would've been aching all over again.

"It's ok, Oscar," we heard Daryl say when we walked into the front room. He was standing in the middle of it wearing only his boxer shorts and holding his phone to his ear. "… Not a problem. I'll be there in about forty-five minutes… It's fine, man… Yep. See you soon."

He ended the call with a slightly distressed look on his face that made my heart hurt. Rick held my hand tighter.

"So you're goin' in," he said to Daryl.

"Got to. There's no time to figure anythang else out since no one's answerin' their damn phone," he grumbled in agitation.

I knew it.

I knew this was how things would work out.

Daryl gave us a helpless shrug. "I'm Oscar's only option," he said without spite, "and since he was gonna cover the first half of my shift so I could call in, I'm outta options myself."

I tried to pull my hand from Rick's to cross my arms while I paced or to pull my hair out while I paced, but Rick wouldn't let go.

"What exactly's goin' on with Oscar?" he asked Daryl.

My frustration fizzled out when Daryl's face fell.

"Oscar's brother was rushed to the hospital," he told us. "He's been fightin' the flu or somethin' and it got worse this mornin'. His doctor says he's got some kinda infection and may need surgery if it doesn't start to clear up."

"Oh my God," I gasped.

"Yeah," Daryl sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "The brother lives out in Smyrna, so Oscar and his wife are drivin' there. She's packin' their stuff and then pickin' Oscar up."

I tightened my hold on Rick's hand. I felt terrible. Up until now, I'd been so focused on how Daryl belonged with us that I'd given no thought to Oscar and his family actually being affected by an emergency.

"I've never heard Oscar sound so scared," Daryl said quietly. "I can't not go in," he added, sounding unnecessarily apologetic. "He's gonna leave no matter what, but if he goes without anyone there in his place, he'll lose his job. And someone has to be there for the kids. And—"

"Daryl, it's ok. We understand," I assured him. "Of course you'll go in for Oscar. He needs to be there for his brother."

"I get that, 'Chonne, but what about me needin' to be here for mine?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion. "Rick's my brother, you're my sister. Everythang that's happened since Lori's ass popped up has been our family emergency. And now that asshole's just gonna roll into town like his shit don't stank? Like he didn't stab Rick in the back? I should be here. With you."

"Daryl, stop," Rick said with that authoritative bass in his voice. "You bein' there for Oscar and bein' at the center for the kids is more important than anythang else right now. Don't beat yourself up over that. There's no reason to."

Daryl stared at us, grunted, and walked to my bedroom. "I'm gettin' my shit," he mumbled.

Shit.

"Was that grunt as bad as it sounded?" I silently asked Rick after rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"It was a bad grunt," he silently confirmed.

"Shit! He's not ok," I silently said.

"We'll make sure he is before he goes," Rick silently promised.

I nodded.

"Maybe we should meet with Shane later today," he silently suggested.

"No," Daryl grumbled, walking back into the front room, "just meet with that prick this mornin' so you can get it outta the way. And I'm ok, so stop talkin' about me like I'm not and walk me out."

Daryl was fluent in silent communication, so I wasn't surprised by him joining the conversation. I was surprised by how quickly he was ready to go.

"Ok, D. If you're sure that's…" The sentence died in my throat.

Daryl had his phone, his keys, and his wallet but was still only wearing his boxers.

"Daryl, where are your clothes?" I asked.

"Hamper," he said, standing in front of the front door.

The hamper?

"You don't think you should put them on?" I asked.

His face scrunched in confusion. "Why?"

"Because you're only in your underwear," I said slowly.

"I'm takin' a shower when I get home, Michonne. Why bother puttin' clothes on if I have to take 'em right back off?"

Because you're only in your underwear," I repeated.

He rolled his eyes as if I was the one being absurd. "I live four houses away. Doubt I'm gettin' pulled over for indecent exposure."

He looked at Rick to back him up.

"He'll be fine," Rick said to me. "Just make sure nuthin' flops out," he warned Daryl.

"Nuthin's floppin' out," he scoffed.

And then, to my absolute horror, he wiggled his hips, checked the front of his boxers, and looked at us triumphantly. "My biscuits and sausage'll be fine," he declared, opening the front door and walking out.

His biscuits and...

I reclaimed my hand from Rick and started backing out of the room.

"Where're you goin'?" Rick asked me.

"To the kitchen. To get bleach. For my brain."

He rolled his eyes, grabbed my hand, and pulled me towards the front door. "Come on, drama queen," he grinned.

I really, really needed new friends. I bet if I had a David in my life, he would never wiggle around in front of me to make sure his biscuits and sausage didn't flop out. I bet David would never utter the words "biscuits and sausage"in reference to his…

I sighed. I really, really needed that bleach.

Daryl was leaning against the porch railing and staring up at the morning sky. Though the sun hadn't yet risen, but the sky had lightened enough to no longer be dark. I took a quick moment to appreciate the beauty of the new day before Rick and I separated to stand on either side of Daryl.

"Give Lil Asskicker and Lil Miss Bad Ass a hug and a kiss for me?" he asked.

Before Rick or I could question the Lil Miss Bad Ass part of that, Daryl grimaced and said, "There's no way in hell I'm callin' her Pumpkin or Judy-pie."

"Fix your face, Dixon. Pumpkin and Judy-pie are very lovely nicknames," I insisted.

"Uh huh," he replied in a flat tone. "And anyways, the name fits. I think she kinda has to be bad ass to have survived with Lori and Shane all this time."

I couldn't argue with that. There was no telling what type of environment she was growing up in with Fucking Lori Grimes and That Piece of Shit Shane.

Fucking Lori Grimes.

That Piece of Shit Shane.

"Calm down, crazy," Daryl smiled, lightly bumping my hip with his. "And gimme a hug so I can get outta here."

The man on the porch in his underwear was calling me the crazy one. Go figure.

"You sure you're ok?" I asked while we hugged.

"Mmhm. I can always kick that asshole's ass outside of work hours," he mumbled with a shrug.

"That's true," I agreed, letting him go. "An ass kicking is truly at the ass kicker's discretion."

His face instantly brightened. "It is, isn't it?"

It was. And that's why at some point, Daryl, Rick, and I were going to sit down and have a little chat about hypocrisy and double standards, considering that my ass kicking efforts had been thwarted. Twice.

"All you need to know is the hotel he's staying in, D. The Greenes will probably know that two minutes after he checks in," I said matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me," Rick chimed in, "but do you think you could at least pretend to be standin' in front of a sheriff's deputy right now?"

Daryl and I looked at each other, smiled, and then looked back at Rick. "Naaaaaah," we said together before Daryl pulled him in for a hug.

"We'll make sure the kids get their hugs and kisses from Uncle D," Rick told him when they separated.

Daryl nodded.

"And give Oscar our best," I told him. "Let him know that he and his family are in our prayers."

"Yep," he replied.

Daryl wasn't one for drawn out or emotional goodbyes, and since we'd said everything that needed to be said, he picked up his phone, wallet, and keys and abruptly walked off the porch.

"Love you both," he said over his shoulder. "Call me when you're done meetin' with that motherfucker."

He was getting situated on his bike when Rick moved beside me and wrapped his arm around my waist, jolting awake each and every butterfly in my stomach. It wasn't what he'd done that had my stomach fluttering, it was that he'd done it as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

Daryl caught me biting my lip to stop the spread of an enormous smile and looked at Rick and me suspiciously. When he saw Rick's hand on my waist, he rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like "worse than Gleggie."

"Helmet. On. Now," I ordered.

After more mumbling about no one being the boss of Daryl Dixon, he put his helmet on.

"Happy?" he asked.

I'd be happier if I had my phone with me to take a picture. Daryl sitting on his bike with only a helmet and his underwear on was priceless.

"Shoulda brought it with you," he snickered before starting up his bike.

Less than ten seconds later, he was parked outside of his house. Rick and I over-enthusiastically waved goodbye, and in classic Daryl fashion, he flipped us off before disappearing into his house.

I stared at his empty porch, missing him already.

"On days like this," Rick said somberly, "the three of us..."

"We're normally together," I finished for him.

Throughout our friendship, the three of us almost always were together when dealing with an emotionally trying matter. When Rick stood up to his bully, Gabriel Stokes, in the sixth grade, Daryl and I were with him. When Daryl visited Merle in prison for the first time, Rick and I were with him. When I finally found the nerve to open my bar exam results almost a full week after receiving them, Rick and Daryl were with me—and that was after they'd made a record-breaking 39-minute drive to Atlanta. When Rick's shift ended after responding to his first accident scene with a fatality, we were all together. When Daryl bought his house and celebrated by burning down the trailer he grew up in, we were all together. When my period was MIA and I had to take a pregnancy test—which was negative, thank God—the weekend before leaving for my studies abroad, we were all together.

The list of those kinds of days was endless. But because I'd gotten through the most emotionally trying day of my life with only Daryl and Glenn by my side, I knew that Rick would get through today with only me and no more than two Greenes by his side. And because he managed to keep me as calm as possible about Daryl's absence today, I was going to do the same for him.

I turned so that I was standing directly in front of him, I put my hands on his shoulders, and I looked into his cloudy, blue eyes.

"I know what you're gonna say, Michonne. You're gonna tell me I have more than enough love and support to get through today, with or without Daryl. And I believe that. I do."

"Good," I smiled, "but that isn't what I was about to say. What I was about to say was, 'Don't act like you won't be texting Daryl updates every 10 minutes when we're with That Piece of Shit Shane. It'll be like D's right there with us.'"

The scandalized look on Rick's face was another one of those priceless moments that I wished I could capture with my camera

"That happened once, Michonne."

"That's not true," I laughed. "It used to happen all the time."

"You're misrememberin' thangs," he said dismissively.

"I am not," I laughed. "You are a gossip, Rick Grimes. Always have been, always will be. As a matter of fact," I continued, "do you remember what you told me and Daryl the very first day we met? When we were in time-out and Miss Georgie left the classroom to use the bathroom?"

He blinked slowly and stared at me with a blank face.

"You told us she was lying about going to the bathroom and was really meeting Principal Gregory in the janitor's closet."

"But she was," he shrugged. "And that doesn't prove I was a gossip. I was just sharin' information. And that, sweetheart, makes me an effective communicator."

I didn't even try to stop the snort that came out when I laughed.

"You're so ridiculous," I grinned.

I moved my hands up his shoulders to the nape of his neck where my fingers found their curly, silky paradise.

"It's a good thang you like ridiculous," he mused, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close.

Like it? He had no idea how much I adored his ridiculous—how much I adored him, even if he was so very, very delusional about his gossiping ways.

"You'll be fine today," I said softly in his ear. "Lori and Shane have done their worst, and you're still standing, Rick. Don't forget that. Never forget who you are and how strong you are."

His arms tightened around me, and just like that, being in his arms of steel became one of my favorite places in the world to be.

"AHEM..."

I tensed at the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat.

"Good mornin', Richonne!"

Oh, no.

Please, no.

God, no.

"Relax," Rick whispered.

Relax? Was he insane?

I was 100% positive that that "Good mornin'" had come from Birdie.

Birdie. The woman who could spread rumors to all corners of King County in under ten minutes.

Yes, she would always have a special place in my heart for putting a curse on Fucking Lori Grimes. Yes, if she ever needed me to, I would act as her alibi because of what she said to Morales and Noah on my behalf. Yes, she would be getting one hell of a Christmas gift for spreading those Hulk rumors about Rick when she knew they weren't true. But she was the last person I wanted stumbling upon the two of us when we were embracing on the front porch in our pajamas.

"We should make a run for it," I whispered before we unwrapped our arms from around each other.

But instead of going with my very sensible plan, Rick turned towards Birdie and placed a hand on my lower back, directing me towards her, too.

Shit.

New plan… engage as little as possible so that Birdie would leave as quickly as possible.

"Mornin', Birdie!" Rick said, greeting her warmly.

"Morning, Birdie," I parroted.

She was standing near Fucking Lori Grimes' bags on the curb, and I could see her eyes jumping from Rick to me, cataloging every detail: Rick's wild, unkempt curls; my hair in what was probably a very messy ponytail; the genuine smile on Rick's face framed by day-old scruff; the stiff, forced smile on my face; Rick's loose-fitting, gray tshirt; my form-fitting, purple tank top; Rick's hand that was now curled around my hip; the almost nonexistent sliver of space between us; Rick's black basketball shorts; my purple and black plaid pajama pants; Rick's bare feet; my bare feet.

Satisfied with her visual scan, she gave us a toothy smile. "Lovely mornin', isn't it? A little warm, though, to be so early," she complained, fanning herself. "Seems like it's gonna be hotter than the devil's butthole today."

The devil's what hole?!

"It does feel like it'll be a hot one," Rick said, holding back a laugh, "but Georgia wouldn't be Georgia without a little heat."

"Deputy Grimes," Birdie huffed, "I am Georgia-born and bred. I'm not opposed to a little heat. I'm opposed to feelin' like I have a close and intimate relationship with the devil's butthole."

Unable to hold it in any longer, Rick let out a shoulder-shaking laugh. While I was shaking my head at how a grown man could laugh so hard at "devil's butthole", I noticed Birdie giving him an appreciative once-over.

I understood completely. From head to toe, there was a lot about this man to appreciate.

"Annette wouldn't happen to be awake, would she?" Birdie asked when Rick's giggles died down.

"Nah, she's still sleepin'," Rick answered, wiping a tear from his eye. "But you're more than welcome to go in and wake her up," he offered.

"No, no… There was just a teeny, tiny mishap in the barn when I was checkin' on the farm last night. Nuthin' to worry about," she smiled. "But maybe have Annette call me as soon as she wakes up?"

"We'll be sure that we do," he told her.

"Thanks, lovebugs! I know you have a busy day ahead of you, so I'll get back to my mornin' walk and let you two get back to doin' whatever it was you were doin'," she said with a sly wink.

Shit.

"Birdie, before you go, I wanna thank—"

"You can keep that thanks, deputy. You're Annette and Hershel's people, and that makes you my people. I take care of my people, and that's that," she said very seriously. "Now don't forget to tell Annette to call me right when she wakes up. Not a second later," she reminded us. "And make sure you sign up for the cookout. We still need meat and sides. We have a thousand paper plates and nuthin' to put on 'em," she said with a click of her tongue.

"Yes, ma'am," Rick replied. "Have a good one, Birdie!"

"Have a good one," I parroted.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and was texting before she cleared our property line.

Shit!

"By the time the sun is up, all of King County will think we were being indecent on the porch," I cringed.

When Rick didn't respond, I looked at him. The frown on his face said he was concerned about King County thinking we'd done indecent things on the porch, but there was also a spark of something in his eyes that I couldn't quite identify.

"Yeaaaah, we should get back inside," he said, steering me to the front door.

When I crossed the threshold, my eyebrows shot up.

Wait… what?!

Did Rick likethe idea of doing indecent things in public? Did he want to do indecent things in public… with me?

And that ache was back.

Fuuuuck.

Rick's newfound ability to make my body ache was equal parts exhilarating and frustrating, so when it dawned on me that Daryl was no longer occupying my bedroom—that I had privacy that came with an en suite bathroom—abandoning Rick was inevitable.

"You want me to get a pot of coffee goin'? Hazlenut vanilla?" he asked me on his way to the kitchen.

"Nope!" I chirped, practically sprinting to my room.

Twenty minutes later, after I'd showered and I was blissfully ache-free, I hummed a made-up tune while I brushed my teeth, lotioned my body, and put on my Are You Kitten Me Right Meow? tank top and matching shorts.

I hummed louder when I put my necklace back on and admired the M-charm in the mirror.

"Hmmmm hmm hmmmmmmm," I hummed, opening the bathroom door. "Hmmm hm—"

Oh.

This was… different.

"Hey," I said casually, walking out of the bathroom and closing the door behind me. Unsure of what to do exactly, I played it safe and leaned back against the door, crossing my legs at the ankles.

"Hey," Rick said, trying to match my casual tone but not quite succeeding.

He was sitting on my bed with his back resting against the headboard and his legs stretched out and he was focused on the remote control that he was tossing from hand to hand. For someone who had invited himself into my room and made himself comfortable in my bed, I expected him to be radiating a certain type of cocky energy, but more than anything he seemed uneasy.

I suspected he was doubting his decision to intrude on my privacy in this way, but I wasn't completely bothered by it. The rules were changing for us; redefining our comfort zones was to be expected. The only thing that was slightly alarming was not knowing when he came into my room. If he came in after my shower, then he heard me humming. If he came in while I was in the shower, then he probably heard something else.

I hate you, too, universe.

"Carl and Judy are still sleepin'," Rick said, putting the remote control down and nodding at the baby monitor on the nightstand next to him. "Everyone is."

I looked at the closed bedroom door, ignored the handful of butterflies that were trying to stir up trouble, and returned my gaze to Rick.

"Hi," he mouthed, looking a little less uneasy.

"Hi," I mouthed back.

I watched his eyes roam down my body and slowly work their way back up, but unlike Birdie's scan, Rick's was one that I welcomed. When he lingered on my thighs, I was elated that my shorts were so short but regretted not wearing those itty, bitty, teeny, weeny shorts he liked so much.

"I, uh, I DVR'd the season finale of Pasión de los Cuerpos," he said after completing his scan and clearing his throat. "I thought we could watch it, if you wanted? Pass the time until the kids wake up."

I tilted my head back and forth, as if I was contemplating his offer, but Rick was sitting in my bed and had just looked at me like he wanted to eat me whole, so I was internally debating something else.

Just watch the finale, Michonne.

But Rick already spoiled the episode.

Take off your clothes!

…

You have a house full of people, Michonne.

But they're all still asleep. And Maggie would be so proud.

Take off your clothes and get in bed!

…

The babies could wake up any minute, Michonne.

So stop wasting time.

Take off your clothes, get in bed, and get that big Rick!

...

But Rick wants to wait, Michonne.

...

Goddamnit.

Rick did want to wait. I was going to have to respect that and just watch the finale.

"Yeah," I answered. "I'd like that."

Rick smiled to himself, picked up the remote, and aimed it at the tv on the wall in front of the bed. I walked over to my side of the bed—the left side since Rick had claimed the right—and sat cross-legged next to him.

"Let's watch this finale, Grimes."

"Ok," he smiled at me, pushing play.

We were about halfway through the finale, and I was on pins and needles. Javier had just received a phone call from Maria ordering him to make their Ana-Sofia problem permanently go away. He slid his phone inside his coat pocket and nodded to the two goons with him, relaying Maria's order. The three men menacingly approached Ana-Sofia, who was gagged and bound to a chair in the living room of her burned down childhood home. The goons had burned it down earlier in the episode.

"Shit! How does she get out of this, Rick?"

"Shhh. Keep watchin'," he said, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Rude.

Ana-Sofia sat with her head held high, bravely refusing to cry or to beg for her life. She looked away from the men to take one last look at the picture of Jesus on the wall that had miraculously survived the fire. At peace with her fate, she looked Javier in his eyes.

Because Pasión de los Cuerpos loved its slow motion shots, Ana-Sofia blinked in slow motion. When her eyes opened in slow motion, she looked around in slow motion disbelief. One of the goons was unconscious and falling to the floor in slow motion, while the other was being roundhouse kicked in the chest by Javier in slow motion.

"WHAT?!" I excitedly whisper-screamed.

In normal speed, Ana-Sofia gaped at Javier when he knelt in front of her and cut the rope from her ankles and wrists. After he removed the gag from her mouth, she slapped him hard across his face. Then she slapped him again. When she tried to slap him a third time, Javier caught her hand. They stared at each other with fiery, narrowed eyes.

"WHAT?!" I excitedly whisper-screamed again.

Their fiery eyes, their heaving chests, and their close proximity could only mean one thing… Ana-Sofia and Javier, sworn enemies since season three, were about to kiss!

But this show also loved its staredowns, so I knew it would be another three to five minutes of dramatic music with alternating closeups of their emotion-filled faces before anything happened. While I waited for their impending first kiss, I started thinking about my own.

"I want everything about our first kiss—your last first kiss, to be perfect."

Our first kiss.

My last first kiss!

That Rick wanted to be perfect.

It took everything in me not to break into the happiest of happy dances, but I maintained my cool. Well, I tried to maintain my cool. I wiggled just a little.

"'Chonne, what're you wigglin' about over there?" Rick asked with a smile in his voice.

Shit.

I must have wiggled more than a little.

A response of "nothing" was on the tip of my tongue, but as easy as it would be to lie or deny, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Rick had already heard me dreaming about him, and there was a good chance he'd heard me thinking about him when I was in the shower. Admitting that I'd been daydreaming about our first kiss was nothing to be embarrassed about at this point. Also, if we were creating a new comfort zone, honesty would be required when we asked each other questions like this.

I scooted around, still sitting cross-legged, and faced him. If Rick wanted to know why I was wiggling, I was going to tell him.

"Our first kiss," I divulged. "That's what I was thinking about."

Rick looked surprised by my honesty but that was short-lived once his eyes locked onto my lips. He stared at them with an almost predatory focus, although I knew he wouldn't attack. That was okay, though, because he could give me something else.

"Rick?"

"Hmm?" he answered, still staring at my lips.

"Tell me about our kiss."

His eyes snapped up to mine. "Wh—huh?"

"Tell me about this perfect last first kiss you have in store for us... Use your words," I teased.

"Michonne," he softly groaned, leaning his head back against the headboard. "I don't... I'm not good with my words like that."

I didn't believe that for a second. Rick was more than capable with his words.

"Try?" I asked.

When he gave me a startled deer in the headlights look, I decided to help him out.

"Soft and tender?" I questioned.

His eyes dropped to my lips again.

"Long and deep?" I asked softly.

His perfectly pink lips parted when he took a breath.

"Wet and messy?" I whispered.

His face flushed a deep red.

I would've loved to explore why wet and messy had him blushing, but I wasn't able to because of a soft, little gurgle that came from the baby monitor.

Pumpkin.

I could only laugh. With timing like that, she was definitely her mother's daughter.

Rick stared at my lips a few seconds longer and gave me a sweet, apologetic smile before reaching for the monitor and switching to maybe-baby daddy mode.

"She wakes up gurgling?" I asked.

"I think so," he answered, looking at the screen. "I thought it was a fluke when she did it yesterday, but maybe she is a mornin' gurgler. Can you imagine Carl wakin' up like this when he was six months old?" he asked, getting out of bed.

I couldn't. I still remembered the many, many times I called his pediatrician in tears because of how often and how loudly he screamed his precious little head off.

"Speaking of Nugget," I said, "I'm surprised he isn't—"

A giggle came from the baby monitor.

Nugget!

I jumped out of bed to get to my baby, but Rick beat me to the door and blocked it. I tried to get around him, but he blocked me.

Was he insane? Our baby was awake. His maybe-baby was awake.

"Rick, what are you doing?" I asked with as much patience as I could muster.

"I, uh… I..."

"Rick," I said in warning.

My Nugget was probably wondering where I was.

"It's just… I wanted to say… to tell you…"

"Rick!" I snapped.

My Nugget was definitely wondering where I was by now.

"Ok, ok," he breathed out, putting his hands on his hips. "Michonne, I've probably thought about our first kiss a hundred times since last night," he said in a rush, looking down at his feet.

Oh.

"It was, um, one of those thangs on my mind keepin' me up last night."

Oh!

"And when it happens," he said, looking up at me, "I don't think how we kiss is gonna be what makes it perfect. I think it'll be perfect because I'll be all yours and you'll be all mine. What could be more perfect than that?"

Wow.

It was a very peculiar thing to be so affected by words that I wanted to both cry from their brilliance and drop my panties because of their brilliance, but that's exactly how Rick left me feeling.

"And here I thought you weren't good with your words," I marveled.

Rick crossed and uncrossed his arms, put his hands back on hips, and then crossed them again. "You wanted me to try," he said in a soft voice, "so I tried."

Doo-dee-doo-doo Doo-dee-doo-doo Doo-dee-doo-doo-doo…

Doo-dee-doo-doo Doo-dee-doo-doo Doo-dee-doo-doo-doo…

Rick and I jumped at the sound of my phone ringing on my dresser. He must have brought it with him when he came into my room, but I made no move to answer it. Rick and I just stared at it as it continued to ring.

Doo-dee-doo-doo Doo-dee-doo-doo Doo-dee-doo-doo-doo…

Doo-dee-doo-doo Doo-dee-doo-doo Doo-dee-doo-doo-doo…

Doo-dee-doo-doo Doo-dee-doo-doo.

Shortly after the ringing stopped, a new voicemail alert sounded.

It was barely 7AM.

There was only one person who would be calling so early.

That Piece of Shit Shane.

"He's not welcome in our house, Michonne," Rick groused. "He steps foot on our property, I'm shootin'."

Rick was deathly serious, and I was seriously tempted to call that Piece of Shit Shane back and tell him to come on over, but that would ruin my morning with my family, and I really wanted to enjoy my morning with my family. The babies were up, I needed coffee, and Glenn and Annette made the best breakfast.

"He's not gettin' Judith," Rick fumed. "Lori's not gettin' Judith, not until I know she's not mine."

His fists were clenched, his jaw was tense, and his eyes were quickly darkening.

Shit!

Rick was hurtling towards a bite a neck out level of fury.

"Rick, calm down," I said in a firm but soothing voice. "He's not coming into our home, and Judith stays with us until you know."

When the muscle in his jaw ticked and his eyes drifted away from mine, I cupped his face with my hands and waited for his eyes to drift back to me.

"The only things that matter right now are the babies, coffee, and breakfast with our family," I told him when I had his attention again. "Nothing else, babe. We'll deal with everything else afterwards. Ok?"

He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath.

"We need to check on Nugget and Pumpkin. I need you calm and collected, Rick. The babies need you calm and collected."

He covered my hands with his, took another breath, and opened his eyes.

"You good?" I asked.

He nodded again. "Babies, coffee, and breakfast. That's what matters," he said in a strained voice.

As we walked to the nursery hand in hand, his jaw was still tense and his eyes were nowhere close to being a heavenly sky blue, but that was probably the best I could hope for before our day went to hell.

A/N: So no POSS in this chapter, but he, and Richonne, and no more than two Greenes will kick off the next chapter!

Thank you for reading! Reviews are very much appreciated!