"Bullshit."
"I swear." Rick made a cross sign over his heart, though he couldn't hide the giddy smile on his face. Daryl was less amused.
"You're telling me you didn't rig this shit? Ain't no way outta all these people, you just randomly pulled your wife's name out of that hat."
Rick quirked an eyebrow at his friend. He really hadn't messed with the rules—Carol wouldn't have let him anyway—but he was more struck by Daryl's choice of words in his accusation. "My wife, huh?"
"Ain't she?"
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of the van as they drove back to Alexandria, pondering that. Of course she was his wife. Though, they hadn't actually discussed that. What he and Michonne had wasn't going anywhere, and it felt a little trite to call her his girlfriend. She was the mother of his children, his soulmate, if that didn't make her his wife, no ceremony would. Still though, he wondered if she had thought about the fact that they hadn't made that official yet. She'd never said anything. But would she—
"Hey!"
"Yeah," he said, shaking his head. "Of course she is. But I didn't rig the secret Santa thang. Sometimes you just get lucky."
"Bullshit."
"Who'd you get?"
"Eugene."
…
Rick got home late that night, after Michonne and the kids were already asleep. He and Daryl had made what had become a weekly run into the city. They'd taken the whole group the first time, but now that they knew what areas to avoid, and cleared the rest, the two of them could manage just fine. Besides, this whole Secret Santa thing wasn't gonna be possible if Michonne was with him whenever they were outside the walls. He'd lied and said he was missing his time with Daryl and she'd packed a sandwich for the both of them and waved them off.
He felt a little like the real Santa tonight, though, as he unpacked the backpack he had filled on the trip. The more essential stuff already went straight to the pantry, this was all for them. Michonne had found stockings in the attic of the house the year prior, and once they had found out about R.J., she'd made a fifth one to add to the mantel. It was red and black flannel, made from an emergency blanket he'd swiped from the trunk of a car, but she'd embroidered his name on the front and even found some white trim to decorate the top.
He plopped down in front of the fireplace and sorted his haul. A barbie for Judith, a football for Carl (that wasn't going to fit in the stocking, so he set it aside to be wrapped somehow.) and a whole set of vintage matchbox cars for R.J.. Michonne might not approve of him playing with those yet, but he couldn't leave them sitting on the shelf at that empty, burned out antique shop. Another thing he hadn't been able to leave still sat in his pocket.
He stuck what he could in the kid's stockings and hid the ball, then rifled through his pack for the little gift bag he'd found. It said Happy Birthday and had a picture of a cat in a party hat on it, but it would do. This was only day one of the gift exchange and besides, better he not give himself away by going out of his way to find the perfect wrapping. No one else would put in that effort for this little Christmas game.
He filled the cat bag with three silk headbands and some cowrie shells he'd traded Cyndi for, and crept back outside to set it on the front steps as per the rules. As soon as he opened the door, he saw Abraham approaching and he tensed. This couldn't be good news if he was coming to knock on their door in the middle of the night. He was about to call out to him, when he noticed a package in his hand wrapped in shiny red paper. Since he had picked Michonne, and the kids weren't involved in this game, he deduced that it had to be a gift for him.
"Rick," he said, startled.
"Abe. What's going on?"
Abe shoved the package behind his back and shrugged. This was exactly Rick's objection to this when Carol suggested it. Grown men giving each other Christmas presents? Secret ones at that? It was a little awkward.
"Nothing, boss," Abe said. "Just out for a walk. The night air is good for the old respiratory system, ya know. The lungs…"
"Right."
"How about you? You delivering something?"
Rick looked down at the bag in his hands and glanced up the road toward Daryl's house. He wasn't even supposed to tell Daryl who he'd picked. He certainly didn't want to get caught blabbing to Abraham. "Yeah, uh, was just headed out to drop it off." He trotted down the steps. He would circle around, throw Abraham off the scent. He shook his head and headed left. This entire thing was so ridiculous.
…
Ok, maybe it wasn't completely ridiculous. Rick beamed over his cup of coffee as Michonne tied the little shells he'd left for her into her locs. She had been so excited when she saw the little bag on the steps, that his cold, Grinchy heart had started to warm immediately. When she pulled out the headbands and gushed over the print and material, he felt like Scrooge on Christmas morning. Transformed.
He'd also found the little red package Abraham had left him. He'd opened the paper to find six cigars of different brands. He supposed even when you didn't pick your wife in the draw, this idea still had its merits.
The next day went just as well. Michonne's eyes practically bugged out of her head when she'd opened the original copy of the Articles of Confederation. He might have been showing off with that one, but if the end of the world wasn't good for something…
Abe had left him a bottle of whisky, giving him the final push into all out Christmas cheer territory. Maybe he could get himself one of those ugly sweaters for Christmas morning. The kids would hate that. Michonne would love it. He was putting it on his list for the next run.
…
The next run happened to be the next day which was good timing, because after the reaction he got to the first two gifts, he wasn't satisfied with the chocolate bars and tea he had planned on leaving her next. It wouldn't really matter once she saw the fourth and final gift (he hoped) but still, he was on a roll, why stop now?
"So what'd you get Eugene?" Rick asked, hiding his laugh as he and Daryl cleared the aisles of an abandoned CVS.
"Hit the jackpot yesterday," he said, plunging his knife into a lone walkers skull and shaking off the blade. "Found a pyrotechnics place outside of Hyattsville. Left him a bag full a morning glories. Should keep him occupied."
"And what'd you get?"
Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean, red bandana, wiping his brow. "Ain't even got any blood on it yet."
Rick laughed. "It's a Christmas miracle." He shoved aside the last walker he'd put down and stepped over it to get to the aisle he was looking for. "Here we go," he said, grinning. Bubble bath and lotion. Michonne had already used all of the products that came with the house when they moved in, and she was always looking out for stuff for the kids when she was on runs with him. She'd never get this stuff for herself.
He used his forearm to swipe the contents of the entire shelf into his backpack, then strode a few more aisles down and picked out a real gift bag. They hadn't put out the Christmas stuff yet when the businesses shuttered their doors, so a plain red one would have to do. He even found a bow.
…
"Look at all this stuff!" Michonne dug through the overflowing bag of toiletries, holding up the pretty bottles to R.J. as he lay on his back on the blanket on the living room floor. The baby cooed as she showed him one by one.
Rick took a sip from his new coffee mug, printed with the words "World's Greatest Boss" and smiled. Carol deserved a medal for this idea.
…
The final day of the Secret Santa was actually Christmas Day (as far as they could tell and had decided as a group). When he checked the front step, he found a pair of socks and some jerky with a note that said: "have a Merry Christmas, you've earned it -Abe." Rick smiled and put his arm around Michonne who was a little dejected.
"Maybe your person is gonna deliver it later today," he said, trying to keep a straight face. He'd already planned on giving her his gift later, after the kids went to bed. "The final day it's not a secret anymore, so maybe they want to hand deliver it."
"Maybe," she said, holding the robe Carl had gotten her closed against the cold morning air. Her frown quickly turned into a smile when they walked back into the house and watched the kids play with their new things.
By the time everyone was put to bed, they were exhausted. He sat down on the couch and held his arms open for her to join him. She leaned her head against his chest and sighed happily. "It was a nice Christmas," she said.
"It sure was."
"I wonder what happened to my Secret Santa."
"I don't think he forgot you."
"He? You know who it was?"
"Of course I do. You think I'm gonna let Carol organize someone else getting my wife gifts without me knowing who it is?"
He felt her stiffen, then turn slowly over her shoulder to look at him. "Your wife?" she asked, her eyes wide in a good way, like when she'd seen those headbands, but even better.
"Yeah. My wife." He kissed her forehead and laced his fingers through hers. "At least that's what I want you to be. If that's something you want…"
She nodded, her eyes getting teary. "Yeah. I do."
"Wait. Don't say I do yet." He shifted slightly so he could reach the little box in his pocket, pulling it out and setting it in her hand. "Michonne, nothing I could say could make you mean any more to me than you already do. The truth is, even this seems like an understatement in this day and age, but traditions were made for a reason, and while we're rebuilding the world, maybe this is one we want to keep going. So…" He opened the box to show her the platinum and emerald ring he'd found in that same antique shop where he'd picked up R.J.'s cars. "...if you wouldn't mind doing me the honor of wearing my ring, I'd like for the whole world to know what I already do. You're everything to me, not the least of which is my wife." He slid the ring on her finger and she stared at it while she wiped her eyes with her other hand.
"It's beautiful, Rick. Now can I say I do?"
He reached up to press a finger in the corner of his own eye to keep his tears from falling. "Yeah."
"I do, Santa."
Rick laughed. "You knew?"
"Of course I did! I knew the second I opened up all that bubble bath that was so clearly wrapped by a man, and you didn't even bat an eye!"
"Yeah I suppose I could have put a little more effort into faking it."
"Well as your wife, I think you did a great job."
"And as your husband, I'm gonna need you to take care of this for me next year."
Michonne giggled, then laid her head on his chest. "Merry Christmas, Rick."
"Merry Christmas, Michonne."