lazy wakings-up domesticity.
You were never one for lounging about in bed after you've woken up, even on weekends and days off. Most of the time you never got to sleep at all, always tensed for Merle trying to lay his filthy socks across your face, or your father using your head as a bull's eye for his beer cans. So a good night's rest was never in the cards for you, and you were fine with that.
But in this cramped room on a mattress of two beds pushed together, with Michonne's arm heavy around your waist and Rick's gentle snores filling the silence, you've never felt more at peace in your life.
You shift as slowly as you can onto your side, hoping not to disturb Michonne, but she's just as attuned to change as you are. "Where d'you think you're going?" she murmurs, her eyes still closed but her hand firm around the shell of your hip.
"Just gotta take a leak an' check on Peanut," you tell her, squeezing her arm once in reassurance. "I'll come back."
"You better," she huffs, then promptly flops the other way to make Rick her new pillow, her head fitting into his shoulder. Rick doesn't stir at all, save for the way his hand creeps up to rest against her back.
Andre is face-down in his bed, his little socked feet peeking out from the ends of the covers. You tuck the sheets over them, and three seconds later he kicks them up again, like clockwork.
You laugh softly, never failing to be amused by your kid's antics. "Have it your way, bud," you tell him, and duck down to rub your nose against his curls. The corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile, softened by the glow of his nightlight, and your can't help the flush of pure joy you feel at that.
Michonne's hand tangles in yours when you rest it on her stomach, Rick's knuckles against your cheek, and for the first time that you can remember, you fall right back into sleep again.