Me: This is a Richonne holiday-themed one-shot dedicated to Liv The Mafia. Happy Holidays! I hope you like it...and Richonne!
"Will you show a little more skin, for Pete's sake? You're like some spinster librarian!" Andrea hissed, unbuttoning her friend's cropped sweater another button. They were just outside the restaurant and Andrea had fought tooth and nail to get a reluctant Michonne here.
Now, she had to get her to unclench.
Michonne pushed her friend's hand away with no small amount of irritation. "You are lucky that I agreed to do this in the first place. I've got a pile of work on my desk, Christmas shopping yet to do and about three TV shows to catch up on and the last thing I want to be doing is going on a blind date with some strange guy!"
"He's Shane's best friend!" Andrea replied defensively. "They're partners and they've known each other for years."
Michonne snorted. "Shane's best friend...now there's a ringing endorsement."
Count to ten, Andrea told herself. She knew she needed to be patient. Michonne had ended a long-term relationship of seven years about a year and a half ago and had yet to venture out into the waters again. This in itself might not have been particularly worrisome...except for the fact that the relationship in question had ended because her ex-boyfriend Mike, a self-serving, narcissistic toad of a man was cheating on Michonne...and with more than one woman. And as the saying went, she'd been the last to know.
What Andrea suspected was that her friend's confidence had been shaken, though only someone close to her would be able to tell. It would be difficult for anyone's confidence not to be, given the circumstances. As beautiful, intelligent and strong as her friend was...Andrea knew that the loss of the relationship had been a devastating blow. And even though it was the most laughably ridiculous thing in the world...somehow Michonne had latched onto the idea that she was not desirable.
Andrea didn't need Michonne to love this friend of Shane's, marry him or have his babies...she just needed her friend to be open to the possibility of someone someday again.
"Okay, Grandma," Andrea said firmly, "turn up your hearing aid. If you absolutely hate this guy, I will allow you to leave in thirty minutes and go home to watch Matlock by presenting you with the escape call. You will give me the signal for this by gently tapping my shin with your orthopedic shoe."
A chuckle escaped Michonne, almost against her will. Even when annoyed with her friend, she never failed to find her hilarious.
"But I'd like you to give him a chance...A fair chance. Give this night a chance. Look at the pretty lights! The decor! Think about all the delicious food this place has! Shane and I are picking up the tab...so order lobster! Champagne! Just promise me you'll try to have fun, okay? It's the holidays. Don't be so grinchy," Andrea pleaded.
Michonne softened immediately at the earnest look in her friend's eye. One evening out wasn't going to kill her, and the promise of the escape call if needed was reassuring. Andrea only ever had what she thought were Michonne's best interests at heart.
"Okay, okay...I promise to give Shane's serial-killer best friend a chance. Now c'mon, let's get inside. I'm freezing my ass off in this dress you made me wear and I'm hungry for that lobster."
/
"I don't know about this, Shane," Rick muttered, pulling at the collar of his brown dress shirt, which all of a sudden seemed uncomfortably tight.
"What don't you know about? You haven't so much as talked to any woman except your mother since Lori left and it's about time you did. It was three years ago, man. It's past time." The expression on Shane's face brooked no room for argument.
Rick settled into the high-backed chair, resigned. "Okay, okay. What did you say Andrea's friend's name is again?"
"MICHONNE. Do I need to tattoo it on your forehead so you remember? I've said it five times now," Shane snapped.
Rick closed his eyes, fighting the wave of resentment that rose up at Shane's words. Rick knew that Shane just wanted him to get out again and in his aggressive, hard-headed way was only doing what he thought best for Rick by dragging him on this blind date. He would be oblivious (or, far more likely, unsympathetic) to Rick's nervousness and hesitation and insist that Rick needed to get out and dip his wick again before it fell off due to disuse...or something much more crude.
What Shane lacked in tender sensibility he made up for in giant heart. This scheme had been hatched with Andrea in large part because he couldn't bear to see Rick shut himself away forever over some triflin', no-good skank of an ex-wife who'd run out on not only her husband, but her two kids.
Rick understood this...but it didn't make being shoved back into the dating world any easier.
"Does she know I have kids?" Rick asked, hating the slight tremor in his voice.
"Nah, thought we'd leave that as a nice surprise." Shane grinned. "You can charm her with those good looks of yours first. Now relax. They'll be here any minute. We don't need you scaring her off."
Rick was about to tear into Shane for failing to communicate the most important piece of information this woman would need to know about him...but then he saw her.
She moved like a force of nature, her stride graceful, confident and beyond sexy. Her braids were pulled up in a loose ponytail which highlighted the beauty of her sparkling, chocolate-brown eyes, glowing skin and lush mouth. Rick's pulse quickened.
Her body was lithe yet shapely, with generously rounded hips and a shadow of cleavage displayed in a form-fitting emerald-green silk dress covered by a snow-white cropped angora sweater.
Shane had said she was pretty. He had not said she was drop-dead gorgeous.
/
Shane and his friend stood as Andrea and Michonne approached the table.
Michonne felt stirrings of interest despite herself. The man standing next to Shane had a starkly handsome face supported by a strong jaw. His blue eyes were intense, the weight of his gaze causing her pulse to flutter, albeit unwillingly. His brown curls were shot with grey at the temples, but this only served to enhance his rugged good looks, not detract from them.
His body was lean and square shouldered. His attire was formal but not fussily so, which she appreciated. The brown button-down shirt and khaki dress pants were simple yet well-cut and complimented the spareness of his frame in a very distracting way.
Whatever else he was, it could not be disputed that this was a man to catch the eye.
Andrea hugged Shane tightly and gave him a rather prolonged kiss on the mouth. This obvious display of affection prompted Shane's hands to find her backside and caress it in a manner one might consider unsuitable for the public eye.
Michonne and Rick cleared their throats pointedly in unison, then started laughing softly as they realized what they'd done.
Andrea separated herself from Shane somewhat reluctantly. Shane made a noise of protest, at which Andrea elbowed him gently and instructed, "Introduce them."
Shane raised an eyebrow at her...then broke into a devilish grin. "Michonne, this is Rick, my serial-killer best friend. Don't worry, though, he's on meds. Rick, this is Michonne, who tried to get out of meeting you tonight by telling Andrea she had to do her laundry."
This time, Andrea elbowed him not-so-gently, causing him to grunt in pain. "My boyfriend, the joker! Why don't we sit down and order, hmmmm?"
Shane rubbed his side as he took his seat. "What? I thought a little humor would loosen the tension."
Rick gave Michonne a warm smile. "Why Andrea dates him is as much a mystery to me as it is to you."
Michonne giggled at this, thinking to herself how his face became even more appealing with a smile...which was some trick. "Andrea says you've been friends for a while...how long?"
"Since freshman year in high school. We were both in the same gym class and ended up on the same baseball team in class."
"What positions did you play?" Michonne queried.
"We were both sent to the outfield...which was a good place for us because we're both terrible. It's where we'd do the least amount of damage," Rick confided.
"Speak for yourself!" Shane interjected, indignant, while Andrea and Michonne chortled.
"How long have you and Andrea known each other?" Rick asked her, eyes meeting hers directly. He didn't want to stare...but he couldn't seem to help himself. Up close, she was radiant.
She beamed at him and launched into the somewhat elaborate tale of their first meeting, which took place at the birthday party of a child of a mutual friend and involved a clown, a hidden flask of vodka that Andrea had smuggled in and the ice cream cake accidentally being thrown onto the grandmother of the child, knocking her wig off in the process.
"Needless to say," Michonne rolled her eyes. "neither of us were friends with Elena after that. Not that I blame her."
Shane emitted a low whistle and gave Andrea an appreciative glance. "Girl, you're wild."
She smirked. "You already knew that."
This led to the swapping of some famous anecdotes involving both friendships, until the food arrived. Michonne had, in fact, ordered lobster tail and a steak to go with it and dug in heartily. Rick had opted for jambalaya. For a few minutes, they tucked in...but as the initial demand of their hunger was addressed, conversation was lapsed back into on both sides of the table.
"Michonne...it's a beautiful name," Rick said softly, observing the way she dabbed her mouth delicately with the cloth napkin. "Where did it come from?"
"Daddy's from Louisiana and Mama's family is from Haiti. Their names are Toussaint and Odette, if that's any indication. They're used to fancy names," she explained with a warm smile. It was the strangest thing to be giving this man such details...but somehow, she felt comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to do a little teasing. "Rick...that's such an exotic name. Where does it come from?"
He started at this a bit, not sure at first if she was being sarcastic...but the warmth in her face let him know the question wasn't mean-spirited. He relaxed, chuckling at the mild joke. "Rick...short for Richard. It's my grandfather's name...nothing all that interesting, I'm afraid. I'm the only kid my parents had. I think at one time they thought they'd have more...it just didn't work out that way. How about you? Any siblings with pretty names?"
"Three, as a matter of fact. Simeon, Langston and Genevieve. The pattern isn't subtle, is it?"
"Maybe not, but it's sure somethin'. Langston. ..is that for the poet, Langston Hughes?"
Michonne tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her shock. "Uh, yeah. He's Daddy's favorite poet. He's mostly an art man...but always said poetry is painting with words."
Her shock didn't escape Rick...but he wasn't going to dwell on it. "'Painting with words…' I like that. I remember that I recited 'I Dream A World' for a drama class assignment in school. We'd been reading poetry in English and I thought his stuff was really powerful...but not too overdone, you know what I mean?"
"Yes, I think so," Michonne replied huskily.
"It's funny, because you don't remember a lot of the stuff you learn in school once you stop going...except whatever you use on a regular basis. But I remember that poem," Rick mused.
"It's one of Daddy's favorites...Well, it was."
"Was?" This was asked gently.
"Daddy passed away eleven years ago. A heart attack, very sudden."
"I'm so sorry."
"It's been a while. But I loved him very much," Michonne's voice caught slightly at the last word. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. "I...have a tendency to still talk about him in the present tense. It's a bad habit, I suppose."
"Or maybe it's just that the people you love are never really gone," Rick murmured, eyes not leaving hers. His expression was concerned...but not repulsed.
All the same, she wanted to put them back on lighter ground. She steered the conversation back to safer subjects. He willingly obliged.
Dessert was a choice between cinnamon or peppermint gelato, a nod to the season. Michonne opted for cinnamon, Rick took peppermint. It was, as the rest of the meal had been, delicious.
After the meal, there was an awkward pause as everyone made their farewells.
I don't want to say goodbye to her yet, Rick thought.
I don't want to say goodbye to him just yet, Michonne thought.
They walked towards the entrance of the restaurant companionably. Andrea and Shane had hung back, presumably to use the facilities...but if Michonne knew her friend, it was most likely for a quickie in the bathroom.
Outside, the air was cold and crisp with a bright, full moon. When exhaling, one could see their breath.
They stood there in the cold, cars close by.
"You know…" Rick began, but trailed off.
"Yes?" Michonne queried softly, repressing a shiver. It was cold, very cold.
"It's such a nice night. And there are all the lights everywhere…"
"Yes." They had to start walking soon or she was going to lose all feeling in her limbs.
"I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted…"
"To take a walk?" Michonne got right to the point. "I'd love to. Shall we?"
They walked and they talked. If either had ever had a more smoothly-flowing conversation, neither could remember it. He told her about being a cop. She made drafting seem interesting. He was handsome in the night lights. She might have been a statue, brought to beautiful life.
Eventually, they found their way back to the restaurant and their cars. They stood very close to one another in the deserted parking lot. The restaurant had closed a couple hours ago...theirs were the only cars left.
She turned her face up to meet his, experiencing a thrill at finding he was already looking at her. She was struck again by the intensity of his eyes.
He thought for the thousandth time that night how very lovely she was. Her mouth was inviting, he'd yearned to kiss it almost from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. She seemed to be leaning towards him. He placed a finger under her chin, his gaze boring into hers.
He brought his lips within an inch of hers...but stopped and drew back abruptly.
Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. "Well, good night," she got out, turning towards her car and fumbling in her purse for her keys.
"Wait," he begged, placing a hand on her arm.
She spun around to glare at him. "No, I don't think I will," she snapped angrily.
"Please, Michonne," Rick pleaded. "There's something I need to tell you. I should have said something earlier...but I didn't know how…"
"Are you secretly a woman? Are you really a serial killer? Are you married?" Michonne fired the questions at him, still feeling the humiliated sting of him pulling back and wondering what horrible piece of information Rick was about to lay on her.
"I'm not a woman. I'm not a serial killer. But I used to be married. She left three years ago. She'd been seeing another man. We're divorced, have been for two years. I have a little girl, four years old. Her name is Judith. I have a son, Carl. He's twelve. I love them very much. Lori gave me sole custody. You're the first woman I've been on a date with since my marriage ended and I wanted you to know before we kissed because I really, really like you." It all came out in a rush of words, one tumbling over the other in his haste to explain. His face was tense with anxiety.
"This was what you wanted to tell me?" Michonne asked, voice gentle. He looked so worried. "There isn't anything else? You don't run a drug cartel? You don't kick puppies? You don't hunt men for sport?"
"No, no...and rarely," Rick answered, feeling his shoulders loosen. "I'm really sorry, Michonne. I just didn't want to-"
But whatever he was going to say next was cut off by her lips covering his. Every thought in his head evaporated.
Her lips held a faint recall of the cinnamon gelato she had eaten earlier and were soft, if ever so slightly cold. He teased them open with his tongue.
She enjoyed the way his mouth tasted of the peppermint gelato he'd had for dessert. When his tongue gently probed her lips, they parted almost immediately. She met his tongue with her own, fitting herself against him as her arms settled around his neck.
The press of her against him electrified every nerve in his body. His arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer. If her lips had been a little chilled to start, they were blazing heat now.
He nipped her bottom lip sharply, causing her to jump slightly in surprise. Her hands stole up to his hair and tunneled into his curls, caressing them.
It could have been five minutes, it could have been an hour. A beam of light hit both the sides of their faces, bringing them back to Earth. They broke apart. Their eyes blinked against the harsh light and each raised a hand to shield themselves from it.
"You folks okay?" a voice came from behind the flashlight. "Everything alright here?" The flashlight dropped, revealing a pot-bellied, older man whose attire marked him as a security guard. He had a full white beard and a kindly face...though his eyes were a bit wary.
"Yes, we've just come back from a walk and were just about to get in our cars and go home," Rick offered, while Michonne hid her face in his shoulder.
"I think that's a fine idea," the security guard responded. "Y'all have a Merry Christmas." He looked them over briefly, eyebrows lifted high, then turned around and walked away.
Rick planted a kiss on the side of Michonne's head. "I think that's our cue, darlin'," he whispered regretfully.
Michonne raised her face to his and smiled. "I guess so."
His arms drew her to him again. "I want to see you again, soon."
She laughed, snuggling against him contentedly. "How soon were you thinking?"
"What are you doing for breakfast?"
The End