A/N: This was written for an Anonymous prompt on Tumblr:
Sian, could you write a good ole blanket story? You know, where they get caught in the rain/snow and find some random house where there's only one blanket they must share.
This is what I came up with. If I get a good response, I'll write another chapter. Enjoy!
The static from the hand-held radio crackled audibly; it was just loud enough to be distinguishable from the pattering of raindrops on the rusted tin roof. Rick peered out through the murky glass of the small window and watched as the downpour flooded the fertile ground below; his warm breath causing the glass to fog up. He held the walkie to his mouth and spoke into it.
"It's bucketin' down," said Rick. "Best not to walk back up to the road just yet. Ain't worth the added trouble."
On the other end, Carol offered something in response. Michonne, standing near the far wall, was busy lighting candles; she could not hear what their friend had said. Rick waited a moment, and then spoke once more.
"Yeah," he replied. "We found a place to hole up for the night. Small cabin not too far away. We'll wait for this rain to pass, and then make our way back to the prison in the daylight…Okay. I'll let you know…Yeah…I'll turn it back on at first light…Okay…See you soon. Thank you."
Rick turned the power switch located on top of the walkie to the 'off' mark in an effort to conserve the battery life, before fixing it back to his utility belt.
"Everything okay?" asked Michonne.
"Yeah," he answered, placing his hands on his hips and looking in Michonne's direction. "They wanted to send someone out, but like I said, it ain't worth it. We'll be fine here tonight while the storm passes. Nothin', dead or alive, will be out in this weather."
"I hate being out in the rain," Michonne said, almost sentimentally as she glanced over at the window. Rick watched her as she was lost in thought a brief moment. When she realized he had been staring, in that way that he often did, she moved from where she was standing.
"So," she finally said, still feeling Rick's eyes on her. "What's for dinner?"
xXxXx
"You know what?" said Michonne as she used her knife to slice the one and only apple in their possession in half. "We need to bring more day-run supplies with us in case we're stranded like this again."
Rick nodded and took the piece of fruit she offered; their fingers touched, ever so lightly.
"Well," he said, with a spirited grin. "We did have more apples and candy, but you've got what I would call a sweet tooth."
His playful banter worked and she blessed him with a beautiful smile.
"Hey, I may have eaten the candy, but you had the other apples," she retorted, causing Rick to drop his head and chortle.
"Yeah," he finally said. "You got a point."
A comfortable silence fell over the pair as they finished off their meagre meal. The glow from the small fire doused Michonne's pretty features in warm light, and for a moment, Rick forgot what he was going to say next. She wiped the juice from her chin with the back of her hand before placing the pocket knife back into her jeans for safe keeping; she felt Rick's gaze on her yet again. She looked up at him and locked her eyes with his, before he quickly averted them. Suddenly finding the small room interesting, Rick gestured towards the sofa.
"That thing's seen better days," he commented; Michonne looked at the ratty looking piece of furniture and screwed up her face.
"I'm not sleeping on that," she said, almost absently. "Pretty sure a walker's bite won't be half as bad as a bite from what's living in that thing."
Rick let out a laugh before tilting his head to the side.
"Yeah, I'd say you're right," he agreed. "There's a cot in the back room and a sleeping bag still in the plastic. That'd be our best bet."
Michonne nodded before suddenly realizing the implications of what he had just said; one bed, one blanket and two people. Rick obviously had not let it sink in yet, because he seemed nonchalant about their entire predicament. She, on the other hand, suddenly felt her face grow warm at the thought of sharing a bed with Rick Grimes.
"We should probably turn in soon," he offered. "Don't have much fire wood left."
"Yeah," was all that Michonne could muster while she slung her katana back over her shoulder. "So, were you gonna take first watch, or should I?"
Rick placed the items that they had finished with back into his rucksack.
"I don't think anyone's gonna be lurkin' around in this weather," he said. "We should both get some rest."
She nodded, wondering why he suddenly would not look her in the eye, before responding, "Yeah, you're right."
xXxXx
Michonne had one arm folded over her tummy while she nervously toyed with the silver m hanging from her necklace. Rick unfurled the sleeping bag, placed it down on the small cot, and proceeded to kick off his well-worn boots; his holster and gun were not far from the bed. He placed his rucksack at the end of the cot where a pillow might be positioned and then looked up at Michonne.
"It's not the most ideal arrangement," he offered. "But it's the best we've got."
"I've been sleeping on those prison mattresses for months now," she joked, reassuring herself. "So I'm sure this is gonna be like a vacation."
Rick gave her a quick grin and then waited. Michonne rested her katana against the wall and then proceeded to remove her vest. She drew the zip down slowly, and Rick's eyes followed her hand. He suddenly felt warm all over as she drew the item of clothing from her body. He cleared his throat discreetly and then found a spot on the wall to stare at as Michonne took her boots off.
"How are we gonna do this?" she asked, bringing his attention back to her.
"Ah, how…how about, you uh, climb in and get comfortable first," he stammered, staring down at the very narrow bed before biting his lip. "And I'll just get in after you."
"Okay," said Michonne, not wanting to sleep on the cold floor. "I hope we're gonna fit."
"We'll make it work," Rick replied, hoping she was not going to make him sleep on the cold floor.
Michonne took a deep breath and then drew the blanket back; she then climbed onto the cot. After shifting around a little, she lay on her side and faced her back towards Rick. Soon thereafter, she felt his weight on the cot behind her, as he lay down. They had their backs pressed together as they each tried to steady their breathing. Rick was hanging halfway off the bed and Michonne was frozen in place with a little room to move.
"You okay back there?" he asked.
"Yep," Michonne replied. "You?"
"Yeah," he said. "But don't sneeze or I might end up on my face."
Michonne sat up and looked over to where he lay; Rick's legs were hanging over the edge and his feet were on the floor.
"Rick," she said. "You can move over. I'm not gonna bite."
"Just respectin' your space," he said, shifting backwards slightly so that all of his body was now on the bed.
"Well don't," she reprimanded. "Because I have no space to respect at the moment."
Rick smiled at the joking in her voice.
"Besides, I'm not going to respect yours," said Michonne as she settled back in behind Rick; it was silly to be so coy around him, she reasoned. They had lived in close proximity for months now; shared sentry duty together and gone on many overnight runs. She trusted him, as she knew he trusted her. Their sleeping arrangement would not be so bad, moreover, it was only for one night.
His breath hitched when he realized that her chest was now against his back and her legs tucked closely against his. She drew the blanket up higher before hesitantly snaking her hand between his arm and stomach; effectively holding his body to hers. She felt safe snuggled in behind Rick.
"Is this okay?" she asked, her breath warm on his neck.
"Yeah," he said, his voice suddenly husky; he relaxed in her embrace. "That's better."
Rick slowly brushed his feet against Michonne's and then closed his eyes when she did not move hers away. They lay silently entwined like that for a while as the candle wick burnt out and they were draped in darkness. The warmth of their bodies staving off the coldness of the winter's night. Each feeling better than they had in the longest time; the steady rhythm of their beating hearts masked by the sound of rain.