This was a prompt request that I received on tumblr and was requested to be put up here. Hope you enjoy!
Prompt #39: Hey! I was gonna eat that!
"Did you have any of Carol's peanut butter pie yet? God, I nearly ate the whole thing for breakfast today." Rosita gabs, the AR-15 tucked under her arm as the two of them walk toward the gates of Alexandria.
"Not yet," Michonne starts, "I was going to have a piece before we left but Rick had other plans for me this morning." She laughs a little, rolling her eyes at the memory.
Rosita scoffs, causing Michonne to laugh a little louder, "No wonder you're never on time for anything. Jesus." Michonne shrugs happily as her katana slams against her back with each step she takes, "Pinche puta."
Michonne bumps her shoulder into Rosita's just as they reach the gate. Aaron is quick to grant them access and the two women part ways, Michonne heading straight toward the Grimes residence, Rosita taking a right. Truth is, Michonne has been frothing at the mouth since Carol dropped off her famous peanut butter pie late last night. She had made one for each of the households in Alexandria and Hilltop. Rositara, Richonne, Aaric, and Desus - the house names that Enid had so lovely coined for them some time ago.
"You know, like Brangelina or Bennifer?" She relayed, shifting her eyes between the adults as they gazed back at her in confusion, "What? You never read a magazine?"
"So, what are you and Carl then?" Maggie piped up, shifting baby Herschel from her right hip to her left.
"Carnid, duh." Tara answered, drawing a laugh from Michonne, "Oh look, here comes Carzekiel."
"You know," Michonne starts, placing her hand on her hip, "I think I like Darus better than Desus. Or Jeryl even."
Everyone got to dig into their pies, except for Michonne. She was going to have a piece as soon as Carol left but Judith and her diaper explosion had other plans. After an hour of fighting the toddler and getting her into the bath, she finally found a moment to sneak downstairs. She was just about to cut a piece when Carl, an hour late for curfew, came waltzing in the front door. She sighed as Rick's voice rang from the living room, "You think this is a joke Carl? You think you can just walk in this house any time you feel like it?" And the fight was on. She stepped into the living room, leaving the delicious dessert behind as she tried and failed to keep the two men from waking Judith.
She had even woken up early that morning, just so she could sneak a piece before her run. But Rick, as usual, rolled over on top of her, nipping at her neck and earlobe, whispering that Judith wasn't up yet. She again, tried and failed to swerve his advances and before she knew it, Rosita was banging on the front door. All day she had been thinking about that damn pie and nothing, nothing, was going to stop her from getting a piece right now. She jogs up the steps to her home and bursts through the front door, surprised to hear, well, nothing. She closes the door and moves through the house, taking off her katana and leaning it against the kitchen table. She should be worried. There's no screaming from the baby, no heavy footsteps upstairs from the teenager, no humming from Rick as he does, whatever he does. But that damn pie. It's calling her name.
She pulls open the refrigerator and low and behold, there it is. She pulls it out, to discover that a few wedges have already been cut out and digested by someone in the house. But, there's still some for her and that is all that matters in this moment. She slides the glass pan onto the table and spins on her heel to retrieve a fork and a plate for herself. She grabs the knife that was left by the previous pie eater from the sink and cuts a healthy slice for herself. She spins again, leaning against the table and takes a forkful, closing her eyes just as she's about to slide the metal object into her mouth.
Something ruffles just outside the kitchen window. Her eyes spring open and the fork halts just at her lips. It ruffles again and then thuds up against the house. She sets the plate down slowly and stands up straight, her instincts kicking in. She grabs her katana and heads for the back door, unsheathing her weapon as she tip-toes out onto the porch. She takes each step deliberately, gripping the white leather handle of her sword tightly as she moves down the stairs. The rustling continues, accompanied by the thuds against the house. How in the hell do walkers keep getting past the gate? Freakin' Eugene! She takes the corner, raising her katana above her head, about to slice down on whatever is in front of her.
"Michonne! Shit, it's us! It's Rick and Daryl."
"Fuck!" She hisses, dropping her sword to her side and leaning against the house as the adrenaline rushes through her veins, "Damn it guys!"
"Sorry." Daryl apologizes, throwing his hands in the air, "Damn girl."
Michonne lets out a deep breath, slapping at Ricks' arm as he chuckles, "What are you doing out here?"
Daryl holds up a small, handmade cigarette and wiggles his eyebrows. Rick glances at her sheepishly, not knowing if she's cool with such an activity, "You want a hit?" Daryl asks, keeping his deep-set eyes on her as he pushes the cigarette between his lips and reaches for his lighter, "This is some good shit."
At first, she's confused. She doesn't smoke, he knows that. But as soon as he lights it and inhales deeply, the familiar stench fills her nostrils and her mouth drops open. He passes the small joint to Rick and she scoffs as he too, takes a long drag, "Richard Grimes, I can't believe you!"
He keeps the smoke in his mouth and throat for as long as he can before he exhales it slowly, a lazy smile spreading across his pink lips, "Come on Chonnie. Live a little."
She scoffs again and the men laugh, enjoying poking a little fun at her, "I told you she'd be a square." Daryl pipes up, accepting the joint from Rick again.
"I am not a square." She squints her eyes at the taller man, "I just don't do that anymore."
"It's okay baby." Rick laughs, pulling her into him to lay a kiss on her cheek.
"I'm not! I used to get high all the time in college, thank you. I just grew up, unlike the two of you."
"Shane and I," Rick starts, taking another long drag of the small cigarette, "We used to post up behind this little grocery store in town and smoke. He had busted some kid and instead of turning him in, they made a little deal and he kept Shane stocked up on the green."
"Oh my god," Michonne rolls her eyes and shakes her head but can't help the smile that spreads on her face, "Officer friendly used to get baked on the job, huh?"
"No, I'd always wait til the end of my shift. About an hour before I'd clock out so I'd still be high enough to deal with Lori."
She eyes the two men as they pass the happy cigarette between each other, their eyes glazing over with each puff. Michonne is no square, damn it, and she is officially offended that they both seem to think that she is. She grabs the joint from Rick's lips quickly and places it in between hers. She inhales slowly, letting the smoke fill her lungs as the two men gawk at her, closing her eyes as she exhales and beings coughing violently. Rick rubs her back soothingly as she collects herself, her eyes watering slightly as she begins to laugh, "Holy shit."
"I told you," Daryl smiles, taking the joint from her, "This is some good shit."
The three continue to get high as the night pushes on. Daryl rolls up another joint, licking the thin paper before carefully folding it up and lighting it for her to enjoy the first puff. The group gets sillier as their heads begin to swim, laughing at the stupidest shit or really at nothing at all. They don't even notice Carl coming in late, again. He walks out onto the back porch, hearing their commotion as soon as he entered the home.
"What are you guys doing?" He asks, scaring them all as he traipses into the grass.
Rick hides the weed behind his back and they all stand up straight, clearing their throats and straightening their clothes as they try not to seem high in front of the suspicious teenager, "Nothing man. Just uh, you know, um," Daryl begins, glancing nervously between the long-haired kid and his parents.
"Enjoying the night." Michonne nods slowly, trying not to smile.
Carl squints his eye, licking his lips slowly as he eyes them all. It's going on one am, he's an hour past curfew, and they're all just chilling in the backyard. What the fuck? "What's that smell?" He asks.
"What smell? What are you talking about?" Rick shrugs, shaking his head as he scrunches up his face.
Carl nods slowly, deciding to make his leave before one of them realizes what time it is, "Alright well, since I'm home on time and everything, I'm gonna head to bed. Be careful guys. Love you."
"Love you." They all chant in unison.
They wait until they hear the door shut before they burst out in laughter once more, Daryl leaning back into the house and placing his hand over his chest and Michonne falling to the grass beneath her feet, "Oh my god, I am so high." She laughs, hanging her head in her hands.
"I'm fucking hungry." Rick chortles, just as his stomach growls, "See?"
"Same brother. Come on girl, let's eat."
"No, just," She starts, shaking her head, "Give me a second okay? Those kids can't see me like this. I'm the responsible one."
"Pssssh," Rick grunts as Daryl throws his arm over his shoulder, "Not anymore you ain't, Chonnie."
She flips the pair off as they loudly clamber up the wooden steps and into the house. Michonne crosses her legs underneath her and smiles, resting her head on the house as she faces the sky. She laughs a little, again, at really nothing at all, but tries to regain her composer. Her head is in the clouds though, and there's no coming down, not any time soon. She grabs her katana and heads inside after ten minutes of trying to not be high. She walks into the kitchen and her shoulders droop as soon as she eyes them. The pie dish is empty and Rick and Daryl are chomping on the last few bites on their plates.
"Really?" She nearly screams, scoffing.
"What?" Rick asks, his mouth full, his eyes wide.
"I didn't get a piece!" She eyes her now empty plate in the sink, "I was gonna eat that, man!"
Daryl glances down at his now empty plate and chews slowly, "Sorry. If Paul and I hadn't finished ours off this afternoon, I'd get you a piece."
Rick snickers a little but Daryl slaps his arm. Messing with Michonne and her food was no laughing matter, high or not. Michonne shoots her husband a look and he drops his eyes to the table, swallowing his last mouth full slowly. She exhales deeply again, cutting her eyes toward the windows over the sink, "Man." She whines, groaning like a child on the brink of a meltdown.
"I can make you a sandwich if you want? We've got all that chicken left over." Rick pipes up after a minute, standing from his seat, "Or, um, there's some of that casserole still."
"No," She whines again, already heading toward the stairs, "I'm gonna shower. You guys are dicks, seriously."
"Sorry!" They both call, staring up at her before looking at each other with guilt.
After her shower, as soon as her head hits the pillow, she's out like a light. The sun cracks in through the windows at dawn, her usual rising time, but she doesn't even notice. When she finally wakes up, it's close to ten am. She jerks a little, taking a sharp breath as she sits up. Rick breathes calmly beside her, sleeping heavily as well. Good thing they didn't have any early morning duties. She sits up and yawns, stretching out like a cat before she stands on her feet and heads to the bathroom. She shimmies into some shorts and a tank and heads out into the hallway, checking on Carl first. The teenager is long gone and so is the little Judy. He's no doubt off to see Enid at Hilltop and dropped the tiny tike off with Father Gabriel.
Michonne skips down the stairs, heading into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and get some sort of breakfast corralled for the sleeping cowboy upstairs. She opens the fridge and gasps a little, before a large smile spreads across her face. She pulls out a small plate, with a big slice of Carol's famous peanut butter pie. She picks up the note beside it, humming as she reads over his chicken scratch.
Saved you a piece - Love, Carl
