One thing could be said about Alexandria, they had hot water and soap. Clean clothes and a way to clean them.
Something to eat that resembled actual food- okay several things could be said about it.
With all that in mind, Michonne thought a good soak, a little nosh and a good night's sleep would help her poor overused rotator's cuff. It did not.
It was morning. She had been struggling for the better part of an hour to grease her scalp. It was hard to lift her arm above her head and dreads are a lot more high maintenance than one thinks.
Down the hall, her surrogate son of sorts, Carl had woken up. With his kid sister, Judith on his hip, he decided to go bother Michonne.
He was going to rib her about fussing with her hair until he heard her hiss in pain.
"You all right?" He asked with concern.
"I am fine," she lied.
He put his sister down on the bed and stood behind her chair and asked,
"What are you doing?"
"Putting olive oil on my scalp and hair," she said.
He looked at her wryly and asked, "Why?"
She scoffed, "Don't all of us have luxurious and oily white people hair. My hair is naturally very dry so I have to add oil to it so it will not itch or fall out. You have no idea. I can be in the middle of killing waIkers and if my head itches, it takes all I have not to scratch it. Besides, I usually do this in private. Don't want anybody have the wrong idea and think I am a diva."
"Perish the thought," he teased.
"Oh, hush. I can do it," she attempted it before whimpering a little in pain.
"What's hurting exactly?" He said reaching for the oil.
"My rotator cuff, I thought. But I think it is more than that."
"Let me see," he said.
"Denise looked at it. It is fine."
"You sure?"
"Never mind that for now. I can't reach the back on my head. Will you do it?"
"Sure," he paused with a quizzical expression. "What do I do?"
"Just put some on your fingertips then put it on my scalp row by row."
"Simple enough," he hunched.
He began gingerly as if the hair would detach at the slightest touch. Even though folk saw Michonne as a strictly warrior- she was- he knew there was more to here than sheer ferocity.
Carl saw her as soft and feminine just based of her treatment of him alone. Not to mention the special knowledge he had of her past. She helped him not miss Lori so much.
"You have a soft touch for a boy," she cooed appreciating his gentle effort.
"Thanks. I think."
"Are you serious? Ladies love a man wilh a slow hand and an easy touch," she laughed remembering the Pointer Sisters song she just paraphrased.
He was the most kind human contact she had received in years.
The softness of her hair surprised him.
"Feels like cotton," he said finding the texture soothing.
Then realized the potential implications of what he said.
"That was not offensive, was it?"
"Hell, no. If the worst thing you can say about me is I got soft hair. I am cool."
"How long have you been growing it?"
"Since you were first grade probably."
"So, about eight, nine years ago?"
"I guess, Mister remind everyone I am sixteen every chance I get."
He chuckled.
"How old are you? Twenty-four, twenty-five?"
She guffawed and said, "Let's go with that."
Taking the hint, he changed topic.
"It looks bruised," he said lightly tossing her hair over her the opposite shoulder and lightly tugging the spaghetti string of her tank top asunder to get a better look at it.
"I don't bruise easily. Damn. It hurts."
"What happened to its fine?"
"I lied clearly."
"I can rub it," he volunteered.
"I will live with it. I don't want to put you out."
"It is no problem. I used to do it for mom when she was pregnant. She told me I was a natural. You are kind of like a mom to me," he said sweetly making eye contact with her in the mirror moving shaggy brown hair from his eyes.
She appreciated the sentiment. Felt honored even. However, she said with a smirk, "I like to think of myself as more of the bruiser older sister a la Jenny Bueller."
"Who?"
"Oh, you poor baby. You have no cultural heritage. Someone here is bound to have a copy of it. I bet Jesse does. We could watch it together. You could invite that little girl I saw you with. She is almost as pretty as you."
He blushed.
"Nah. She doesn't like me. Not really. Plus, she is Ron's girl," he said a little despondent than he meant to be.
"Psssh. Does she know that? That nig- boy gives me the creeps. With his beady eyes and greasy hair. And even if she is his girlfriend. So. Take her."
"I, I don't know. I could but we just moved here. They already think dad is axe crazy. I don't want to make things tougher for us than they currently are."
"How thoughtful. And a copout. You should go for it," she insisted.
"Maybe you are right. But, I know next to nothing about chicks-"
"Lesson one, do not call us chicks," she said.
"Ladies? Hot mamas, what?" He was joking now. Sort of.
"Surely, your dad has taught you something."
"Tab a goes into tab b. He literally said that to me. The little I do know my mom taught me. She was more descriptive. Like I know girls have three holes."
She laughed out of embarrassment then said, "You are already ahead of the curve. Most men do not know that."
"You think I am a man?" The presumption made him feel more manly than having a gun in his hands.
"In these times. Yes. You defend what you consider yours. That is like the definition."
"Thanks. I think you are awesome, too. I am glad I know you. And I do not think that would have ever happened if not for the apocalypse."
"I believe you are right. I am glad I know you, too."
They smiled at each other in the mirror.
Carl then said, "I do know most girls, hell most sane people like when you are nice to them. Only a special kind of asshole sees kindness as a weakness."
"Most people are asshole-ish then. So, that explains that," she said.
"You got a point."
"I will help you. Now, how bad is my bruise?"
"It is pretty small but it is swollen from here to here," he ran his nimble fingers from the back of her arm down to her shoulder blade to the middle of her back down inside her tank top.
The thought occurred to him, She is not wearing a bra.
For a moment, the thought warmed him but he shook it off.
This was Michonne, not of the many half fantasy naked girls he looked at every night in an old Sports Illustrated bikini issue he found in some rubble and in no way kept tucked away in a duffle bag under his bed. No way, no how except she was flesh. Actually live female flesh he was touching. He ran his hand slowly across her skin. He never let on but he thought she was beautiful.
He was warmth- hot male hands moving curiously on her skin. A sensation she had not felt in ages. Carl for better or worse possessed a man's touch.
He moved the opposing strap aside revealing bare shoulders when he realized, "There is no way I can really get at the pain unless I pull your shirt up in the back and you straddle the chair."
Eager for relief, Michonne turned the chair around and obeyed with no question.
Carl lifted her tank up to the tops of her shoulders and rested it there.
There it was her bare back tense and sinewed and swollen but most of all host to a very small waist. Something he had never noticed before but appreciated a way unbecoming a son.
He noticed her pants were hip huggers and if they dared to be just a half an inch lower, she would have been the sexiest plumber ever.
He took some the olive oil and poured it on his hands.
He rubbed them together and pursed his lips. It was either that or licked them when he eyed her breasts and said appendages were pancakes against the back of the chair. Her side boobs on full display. She did not know.
He made up his mind not to focus on them. He is resolve was flimsy at best.
Started at her shoulder just above the bruise.
It elicited a soft groan out her. Then another.
Her skin was goosebumps at his touch. This was involuntary of course but the skin to skin contact was nice.
He gently kneaded her with his thumbs. His long fingers stretched out touching her ribs perilously close to her breasts.
A fact not lost on him though it did pose a dilemma. Should he retreat or cop a feel? His male brain overrode his sense of propriety and he steadily moved his fingers closer under the guise of rubbing deeper which he actually was.
Again with the moaning, it took him to a place where he often did dwell on until it was dark and he was alone. He was hard as a rock. He hoped to hell she would not notice.
The one day I put on clothes that fit, he thought.
The oil gave her skin a velvety shine like a copper crayon. His favorite when he was little because it reminded of him his dad's badge.
She caught Carl's reflection in the mirror. They made eye contact which caused him to turn beet red and she wondered why; until she remembered he was a heterosexual teenager male touching a woman's bareskin as she made grunts of pleasure at his effort.
Then she became keenly aware of his fingers dancing their way up the sides of her breasts.
Michonne did not want to embarrass boy nor did she want him to go too far. She also realized her nipples were hard.
He is a child, she thought.
Two minutes passed.
His fingers were about to become introduced with her areolas when she said firmly, "Carl."
He snatched his hands away. He heard the condemnation in her voice.
"I am sorry. So sorry," he was quick to say even though his right hand had only slipped to the small of her back. Lingering there, caressing almost unconscious circles to soothe her out of anger.
"You know what? Your mom was right. You have the touch. I am all better."
She pulled her shirt down. It was only then that he moved his hand.
She stood up. He ran out the room hunched over and hands in front of him leaving his sister behind.
Thirty minutes passed before she saw him again. She had Judith in the kitchen with her. She had made pancakes and eggs.
"You okay?" She asked eyes concentrated on the messy eating toddler. She had more eggs in her hair than in her mouth.
He nodded.
"I understand if you don't want to talk," she said.
"I shook my head. I am fine. I guess."
She decided to be pragmatic and began, "I have clearly never been a boy-"
"Clearly," he agreed a little too eagerly. It was a flirt.
She let out a nervous chuckle.
"I have been your age. Your hormones are out to get you. But, I understand. You don't have to be embarrassed around me. It happens and I know you can't necessarily control it. But, it is cool."
"Thanks but I am not. Well, not now. I was earlier."
"Good," she began to eat.
He got up to get some water. She turned to watch him. First time, she had ever noticed he had an ass before. She laughed at herself and shook her head.
He sat down beside her and looked at her instead of eating.
"What?" She asked.
"Um, there is something I kind of want to say."
Feeling anxious now, she asked, "What?"
He put his face close to hers. Usually, she would have backed away but for whatever reason, she didn't.
"What did you have to say?" She asked feeling increasingly uneasy.
He smiled then got up and took his pancakes to his room with him.
She watched him walk away and said out loud, "What the fuck?"
Which prompted Judith to say, "Fuck."
"Don't say that. Why do y'all only pick up on the bad words?"
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Judith giggled.
"I can't argue that," she knew something had just happened. She hoped it would pass.
Two weeks drugged on. She avoided him like plague.
It was evening and Rick was off somewhere in Jesse's face, Judith was with Carol. Michonne's shoulder still hurt but it was manageable. Regardless, she got Rosita to cover for her and laid down.
Around the same time, Carl came in from helping dig up graves because well, you know. He saw her jacket draped across the back of their chair. She did not hear him come in.
He took a shower. Threw on some sleep clothes and made both of them something to eat.
He knocked on her door.
"Go away," she said still dressed.
"I made you a sandwich. You decent?" He asked.
She sighed and said, "Yes. Not hungry."
"Come on. Talk to me. You the one who said things were not going to be weird. This is weird. Even my dad noticed. Please, let me in," he begged.
She sighed and got up. She opened door.
She refused to look at him and laid back down.
"Here," he passed her the sandwich.
She accepted.
"Thanks," she said putting it down.
"Welcome. So, how's your past two weeks avoiding me been? Good, I hope."
"I heard you were digging graves."
"Kinda like I am doing now?"
"Aren't you clever?"
"I know you are mad."
"I am not mad. I just don't want you to get the wrong idea. Why are you wearing your hat?"
"Because," it gave him confidence.
He continued, "I don't. I just," he quit talking and looked away.
"What were you going to say in the kitchen that day?"
He took his hat off and laid it on her nightstand. Carl scooted closer to her. He moved a stray dread from her face.
Oh, God, no, she thought knowing where this was going. But hoping to be wrong.
"I think I would do better to show you."
Before she could inquire, her space were invaded by big blue eyes and surprisingly soft lips. She did not kiss back.
He pulled away after a less then thirty seconds. His eyes never left her face. She sat there frozen. Her sangfroid apparently to in tact. However, something in her, clicked.
"I just made this worse," he frowned.
He went for his hat and she grabbed his wrist.
"This is as far as it goes. Okay?"
"Okay," he turned to walk away. Feeling rejected but not mad about it. After all, she gave him no signals.
Then he heard the bed springs jump behind him.
Soon, she was in front of him.
She put her back against the wall and a weird little smile crossed her heart shaped lips. She took his hat from him and put it on her head.
He stepped to her. He put his hand on her waist. He leaned in. He kissed her again. This time she kissed back.
It was pensive and little shy on both their parts at first. Actually, her more than him.
This is crazy, she thought.
They stopped and made eyes again. Silently, giving the other permission to continue.
This time, he placed his hands behind her head, knocking off the deputy hat and rubbed his nose against hers before his closing his peepers and going for her bottom lip causing her lips to part. He did not pucker up like so many novice kissers do. It was not too hard or too soft. And did use it as an excuse to molest her. Again.
In her heart of hearts, she was hoping he would suck and this would be easy to write off as a folly.
Damn, he is actually good. Real good. Fuck, she angrily thought.
The former hope would have been too close to right.
Which told Michonne one thing- someone had taken the time to teach him.
She placed her arms around his neck. His straight- wavy dark brown hair was still a little damp and the clean but masculine scent of him was nice. She detected mint on his breath and tasted olive oil on his lips.
She knew then the food was a ploy. He planned this.
"Extra virgin," she giggled.
"Only kind of," he said with his mouth still touching hers.
"I am nearly afraid to ask you to explain."
"It is too much to get into right now anyway," they start kissing again.
This go around, he sucked on her bottom lip and she did the opposite to his top. This lasted nearly a minute as their damp body heats beckoned the other closer. She was still in uniform and he in shirt and pajama pants. Not the best choice of pant for a high natured teen.
She grinned sheepishly and laughed into his mouth feeling his hard on up against her.
He stopped and asked in sultry voice, "When you said this is as far as it goes, what does that mean?"
"That means you remain kind of a virgin."
Embracing his inner horndog and as well as real deep feelings for her, he said, "I felt something. I feel something."
"You need to take your sandwich and go to your room before this goes too far."
"So, if i were to stay put, something would happen. So you do feel something."
"Anger if you don't back up off me," she attempted to make her face go hard but his handsome earnestness would not let her.
"Fine," he began to back up but not without taking a hold of her arms and walking backwards onto her bed and threw himself on it with her on top of him.
"You told me to get off you," he said with a smart ass grin.
She wanted to slap him but alas he was restraining her.
"Carl, this is not funny. Damn, you are strong," she said struggling but not really.
"Kiss me and I will let you up. I promise."
"I am going get you for this," she was not playing now. She did not like feeling this vulnerable.
"I tried to leave. You stopped me, remember? One measly kiss," he pouted.
Pissed, she nodded.
She leaned down and he met her half way.
This time, she parted his lips with and met the tip of his tongue with hers. This was brief but an invitation.
He let her go and his curious hands went straight to her round well shaped ass. She let him.
About two minutes passed. They were still kissing. She began to hunch on him a little then a lot.
The sheer exhilaration of the stimulation made eight inch him walkout on the show early.
This embarrassed him.
"All I need is like fifteen minutes," he pleaded.
"Told you I would get you back," she kissed his cheek then ran her finger across his lips. She stood up.
"I am going to take a shower. I expect you not to be in here when I return. Understand?"
More cocky than she had ever seen Carl, he replied, "Yes. But, you have to admit that pretty, fucking awesome."
She black girl blushed which is she smiled very hard and looked away.
She said, "Good night, Carl."
Once in the privacy of her shower, she said aloud to herself, "That was fucking awesome."