A/N In case you were wondering how this day went down :)
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"So, you're a cop?"
"Yes, Sir. Sheriff's Deputy."
Rick was seated on the burgundy love seat in Michonne's parent's living room, across from the imposing couple. Michonne was perched beside him with her back straight and legs crossed, looking more like she was at a job interview than visiting her childhood home on a Sunday afternoon.
"Civil servant job," her father huffed, glowering at him from his wing back chair. "Can't pay very well."
Rick grinned, holding in a laugh as Michonne's eyes opened wide. She wasn't lying when she said this wouldn't be easy, he thought.
"Dad, please? Rick, you don't have to respond to that rude comment," Michonne said, her hands still folded primly on her knee.
"It's fine," he said, soothing her with a smile before turning back to her father. "It's a small department, but I'm the ranking Captain, so I do alright."
"Still," her father continued. "It's dangerous work. The kind that leaves your family worried a lot, I bet."
Michonne's mother, Cynthia, a finely aged version of Michonne with the same deep complexion surrounded by a crown of loosely pinned grey hair, sat comfortably across from them in the matching chair to her husband's, passing her gaze back and forth between the two. Despite her soft, mirthful eyes that somewhat belied her formal posture, she seemed content to watch her daughter's boyfriend handle the inquisition on his own, offering no reaction to either the questions or the answers.
"Well, that's true," Rick said, catching Cynthia's eyes and offering a nod. "But I subscribe to the lightning doesn't strike twice theory." He chanced a self assured smile, an attempt to let the man know he wasn't feeling intimidated by his questions. That's what it was about anyway, he knew, testing what he was willing to endure for Michonne. He would win that game pretty easily.
"And what does that mean, Rick?"
"I took a bullet in the line of duty a couple years ago, Sir. Like to think I've paid my dues."
"So you think you're invincible now?"
"No, Sir. I just think the odds are on my side. I spent a couple months in a coma, came pretty close to losing my life, so I know the risks."
Cynthia finally showed a break in her stoic expression at that information, her maternal instincts appearing on her face in a sympathetic frown, while Michonne's father nodded silently.
"Daddy, let's give Rick a break from the third degree, ok?"
She gave him an apologetic smile, then turned back to her parents, pleading with her mother's eyes for backup.
"Yes, Henry," the older woman finally stepped in. "Let's have some iced tea and enjoy the afternoon on the lanai." She stood, smoothing her hands over the front of her red, linen slacks and gave her husband a firm look.
Michonne stood and Rick did too, following her mother through the house and out a sliding glass door, onto a covered patio. The sitting area looked over a grassy courtyard that showed no indication of its position plunked in the middle of a metropolitan area and Rick found the fresh air and small slice of nature eased his senses.
Her father followed them out, politely offering the two a seat before returning to the kitchen with his wife to pour their drinks.
"I'm sorry," Michonne whispered, once they were alone. "He always insists on doing this."
"It's fine. You warned me." He gave her a grin and reached out to squeeze her hand that was hanging between them. "I have to say though, he's pretty good at this. Has he had a lot of practice interrogating new boyfriends?" He kept a playful tone, but the question was only partially feigned. He was starting to wonder how long the list of men who had irritated Henry must be to warrant this level of difficulty.
He didn't get an answer though, as their hosts returned to them carrying a tray with four glasses and a pitcher of cold iced tea and lemons. He felt Michonne drop his hand the moment they reappeared.
"So, tell us about your parents, Rick," her mother asked, once they had all taken a seat around the umbrella covered table. Her tone was lighter than before, and Rick suspected she had taken the time to convince Henry to adopt the same, given the forced pleasant smile on his face.
"My parents have both passed, Ma'am." Rick replied, taking a long sip of his tea. "I have a brother who lives a couple hours away. He's my only family."
"I'm sorry to hear that," her father responded, again seeming to soften a bit. "So how did you two meet?"
Rick glanced at Michonne, wondering if she had a pre-designed story to tell. He had a feeling her father wouldn't be impressed to hear they met at a bar and spent the next two days bouncing between their hotel rooms.
"We met on vacation," Michonne said simply, catching her mother's eye with her ill-defined answer. "Just happened to be we lived an hour apart."
"Michonne told us you live in King's County," her mother said, seeming to allow them the limited details Michonne offered about their meeting. "I've driven through it. It's...quaint."
"Yes, Ma'am," he agreed. "I grew up there. I found it was helpful to live in the community where I patrol, so I bought a house in town."
Rick thought the mention of his homeownership might earn him some points in her father's eyes. He seemed like the type who would value the responsibility that came with it. He hadn't anticipated the line of questioning that would follow, though.
"Single man owning his own house, don't find that much nowadays," Henry mused, leaning back in his chair and searching Rick's face. "What made you want to buy a house for just you?"
Rick chanced another glance at Michonne, clearing his throat before he answered. "I was married when I bought it, Sir. Had different intentions at the time, but it's paid off and I've done a lot of work to it over the years, so I couldn't see getting rid of it."
Her father seemed displeased to hear this information, and Rick had guessed he would be when Michonne's shoulders tensed up just as soon as the question was posed.
"Married, huh?" he asked, looking as if he had just discovered the thread that would unravel the whole thing. "Divorced or widowed?"
"Divorced."
"How long?"
"It'll be a year this month."
"What happened?"
"Dad!" Michonne exclaimed, shifting in her seat.
"Seems like a valid question for a man that wants to date my daughter," he returned, sitting up a bit straighter and squaring his broad shoulders at her.
"He is dating your daughter, Dad," Michonne said, matching his posture. "You aren't interviewing a candidate."
Rick glanced uncomfortably back and forth between Michonne and her father, unsure if he was supposed to answer the question. Though it wasn't his favorite subject, he had nothing to hide and he would give the man what he wanted if he thought it was necessary.
"Henry," her mother interrupted. "Michonne is thirty years old, the pool of unmarried men in her age group is going to include some with their own history."
"Oh my God, Mom."
Rick hated to find any enjoyment in Michonne's discomfort, but the place where the conversation was headed was starting to amuse him. He decided to just lay his cards on the table, before his lack of answer caused more undue speculation.
"She left," he stated, bringing all three sets of eyes back to him. "We got married young, grew apart, and she found someone else who was better suited for the woman she had become. I didn't intend for my marriage to fall apart, and I made my own mistakes in the matter, but I like to think I learned from 'em. It was nothing scandalous, it just...happened."
Michonne and Cynthia tossed their gaze back to Henry who seemed to be searching his brain for a response. He looked caught off guard by Rick's candidness, blinking rapidly and scratching his fingers along his thick jowls.
"No kids?" he finally asked.
"No, Sir."
"And she let you keep the house?"
Michonne let out a loud groan, leaning back in her chair in exasperation.
Rick allowed a grin to spread across his face. He recognized the look of a man who was ready to lay down his arms. He shrugged, offering a resolute look. "She moved into his, so it only seemed fair."
Michonne reached under the table, grabbing his hand and pulling it into her lap. It was the first time she had so much as touched him since they had been in her parent's presence, and he turned his smile toward her.
"Well," Henry said, slapping his palms on the front of his thighs, "I think I'd prefer something stronger than this tea. You a whiskey man, Rick?"
"I am," Rick nodded.
"Follow me, then."
…
When she had been left alone with her mother, Michonne stood and walked to the edge of the lania, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves. "Thanks for the help, Mom," she said dryly.
"I think that went perfectly fine, dear."
"Really?" she scoffed, her head whipping around her shoulder to see her mother struggling to contain a grin.
"You brought a divorced cop in cowboy boots over here, told us you met on vacation, and don't you think I don't know how that went down, and your father is in there sharing a drink with him. I'd say it went very well."
She turned around, letting her back rest on the railing and crossed her arms in front of her with a sigh. "He never invited Mike for a drink," she relented with her own grin.
"Mike wouldn't have lasted five minutes under your father's interrogation. Rick didn't even break a sweat; he earned it."
"I'm in love with him, Mom."
"I can see that very plainly, Michonne. I'm sure your father can too, so you can relax now. The hard part is over."
…
"Sorry about that out there," Henry said once they reached the built in bar tucked in the corner of their dining room. "It's my job. You understand?"
"I do," Rick nodded, shifting his feet beneath him as he watched Henry pour out two glasses of expensive whiskey and put the bottle back.
"I like to weed them out early, you see. Michonne is tough, self-reliant. Anyone who can handle me is well suited to handle...to attempt to handle her." He gave Rick a genuine grin and Rick nodded knowingly. He was well accustomed to Michonne's independence. He found it comforting. Though he would do anything for her, it was nice to know she was with him because she wanted to be, not out of some need. Michonne didn't do anything she didn't want to. "She seems happy," Henry said, handing a glass to Rick.
"I aim to keep it that way, Sir. She makes me happy, too."
It was Henry's turn to nod, as he tapped his glass to Rick's and took a sip. "Well, then I think you and I will get along just fine, Rick."
"I'm glad to hear that." He brought his glass to his lips, allowing the fire from the whiskey to burn in his throat as he breathed a sigh of relief.
…
"I'm thoroughly impressed," Michonne said as they pulled out of her parents driveway watching them wave from the front steps. "I was certain my dad was going to eat you alive."
"So you were leading me to my death?" he asked, chuckling as she gave him an innocent smile. His phone began to buzz loudly in the center console and he reached for it, his laughter growing when he glanced at the screen.
"What's that?" she asked, watching him out of the corner of her eye as she drove.
"Daryl sent me somethin'," he replied, typing a quick response and dropping his phone again.
"You two exchanged numbers?"
"We spent the whole night together," he smiled. "Seemed like the right thing to do."
"How do you keep doing this?" she asked with suspicious eyes.
"Doing what?"
"Fitting into my life so perfectly. My friends love you, my dad casually invites you to spend holidays with us after meeting you once." She shook her head, launching into a perfect imitation of Henry. "Well Rick, we'd really like to see you again. How's Thanksgiving sound?"
Rick laughed at her impression, deciding she must have spent years honing it. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think Andrea's date liked me much."
"And why's that?" she snickered, knowing full well that Phillip wasn't going to be around long enough for that to matter.
"I don't know," he shrugged, leaning back onto his headrest. "Just the impression I got. He kept shooting me dirty looks over the top of his glass."
"Well, based on Daryl and Bob's opinion of him, I'd say that's probably a point in your favor too."
"Maybe," he replied, giving her a confident smirk.
"So are you coming, then?"
"Where?"
"To my parents for Thanksgiving?"
"You want me to? I know your dad didn't really get your opinion before askin' me."
"I do want you to," she said looking over at him with a sincere smile.
"Then I'll be there."