Hi all, here is my submission for the RJD 25 days of Richonne, day number 14. Make sure you check out all of the days of Richonne Christmas!

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Michonne woke to the pale, blue light of Rick's cell phone illuminating her pillow as he thumbed the screen. It was cold and pitch dark in their bedroom and she curled into him, pushing her toes underneath his bare legs for warmth.

"Still nothing?" she asked, stretching her arms over her head before settling a hand on his stomach.

He was sitting against the headboard with his phone in his hand and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Everything's still grounded."

She rolled over to see the clock, the early morning hour announcing itself in festive, bright red numbers and reminding her of the celebration they were supposed to be headed to. Five a.m., two hours from when their flight was supposed to leave, and it was still snowing like crazy outside.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered, reaching a hand up to stroke his stubbled jaw. "I know how much you want to be there."

He blew out a long sigh, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. "It is what it is," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

They'd only been living in D.C. for a year and, having both been born and raised in Georgia, they'd never seen snow like this before. It hadn't even occurred to them that the weather might be an issue when they booked the Christmas Eve flight home to see Rick's parents.

Holidays at Rick's mother's house were the stuff Hallmark movies were made about. Her grandiose tree, amazing home cooking, and boxes upon boxes of hand decorated cookies had made Michonne a convert to over the top Christmases since the first year he brought her home. She was just as saddened as he was that they wouldn't be able to spend the holiday there.

"We could drive," he said, with one last shred of hope.

She took another look outside through the barely visible window. It was covered with snow up to the second pane of glass. "We'd be lucky to get the car out of the driveway," she said, "and by the time we got there…"

"Yeah," he sighed. "You're right."

She took in the wistful frown on his face, her heart aching at his disappointment. "Might as well go back to sleep," she said. "We'll find a way to make it a good Christmas, Rick. I promise."

He agreed, slipping back under the comforter, and let his eyes close as she ran her fingers through his hair. When his breathing settled into a tiny snore, and she knew he had fallen asleep, she reached over to grab his cell phone and slipped out of bed, padding down the hall toward the kitchen.

She didn't have much time, but she had an idea. After a quick call to Rick's mother, who she knew would be up and already baking, she set about digging through cupboards and the refrigerator, scraping together everything she needed. Unfortunately, their kitchen wasn't fully stocked for such an occasion, so she made one more phone call to her best friend, Sasha, who lived a couple of streets away.

Michonne was digging through a box of Christmas decorations that they hadn't bothered to put up, since they were going to be gone for the holiday, when Sasha texted her from the front stoop. She slid on a pair of boots and stepped out into the shin deep snow to greet her.

"Thanks for not knocking," she said, taking the small paper bag from her friend. "I want to get this done before he wakes up."

"I'm sorry your plans were ruined," Sasha said, rubbing her mittened hands together and blowing warm air against them.

Michonne smiled, despite her friend's sympathetic offering. "I think it's going to turn out ok," she said.

...

A couple of hours later, Rick woke up to a smell that instantly brought him back to his childhood. He pulled himself out of bed, noticing Michonne's side was cold. She must have been up for awhile, he thought, noting the sky was still dark from the raging storm. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, wandering down the hall into the living room.

"What's all this?" he asked, taking in the romantic light of the tree and the fire flickering from the hearth. Two mugs of hot chocolate sat on the coffee table in front of where Michonne was sitting, wrapped in a blanket, and a tray of puffy, homemade cinnamon buns, the size of his fist, sat next to them. Quiet Christmas Carols floated on the air, and every nook and cranny of their little condo had been decked out with Christmas cheer, right down to stockings on the mantel.

"I figured if we can't get home, we'll just have to make our own traditions," she said, patting the couch cushion.

Rick took the seat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she covered him with half of the blanket. "You made my mom's cinnamon rolls?" he asked.

She nodded. "And my dad's famous peppermint hot chocolate. A little bit of me and a little bit of you."

"It's perfect," he said, leaning in for a long, lazy kiss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas, Rick."

"Merry Christmas, Michonne."