Hey. Hi.

It's been a while since I've posted anything on this site (and no I'm not going to give you the link to my old profile, it's too embarrassing haha…). Anyways I haven't written in a while (and let the record show that I surely never tried to in English) but I've been in the Richonne fandom for a while now so it's kind of been gnawing at me for a while. But what really inspired me to write this little one besides the S9 set pics, is Miss hawajulaybibcar whose courage I admire because she decided to write in her second language (btw check out her fic!). So that got me thinking that maybe maybeeeee I could try it out too. So thanks Hawa!

Anyway knowing myself if I keep this up I'll talk (write?) your ears off so let me just introduce this by saying that it's sort of my take on what could have happened when Rick finally cut his hair to get that S9 look. Anyhow, enjoy and please don't be afraid to give me constructive criticism.

Lots of love, B.

CHANGES: HAIRCUT

"What are you doing ?!"

He abruptly drops the razor in the sink, surprised by her sudden outburst. He didn't even hear the bathroom door open nor the faint sound of her feet climbing up the stairs. He was caught red-handed.

"Goddammit Michonne, don't scare me like that. You almost gave me a heart-attack !"

She almost chuckles because she managed once again to scare the mighty leader Rick Grimes, but she is still too shocked by what she almost just witnessed.

"Well so did you. What exactly do you think you're doing with that so close to your scalp?" she questions him before reaching into the sink to turn off the buzzing device.

He looks at her sheepishly. He knows how much she likes to run her hands through his curls but he never thought that she'd have such a reaction to seeing him about to shave them off. For a split second he wonders if he should have asked for her permission but he quickly dismisses this idea and lightly blushes: it simply sounds ridiculous. They didn't have that kind of unhealthy relationship.

"Are you just going to ignore my question ?" she asks, crossing her arms and getting fairly impatient.

He sighs, preparing for the inevitable argument.

"I wanted to shave my head," he admits, avoiding her gaze because he's never been in such a position with her.

Lori used to cut his hair every month because he liked to be sharp-looking for his job as a deputy sheriff. At the time, that was his mandated professional routine. But with the Apocalypse there was no such thing as a dress code anymore. He grew his hair out because he didn't have any reason to care about it. Plus, his wife, the person who used to cut it regularly, wasn't there anymore and he had trouble accepting that reality. He used to catch a glimpse at his mane while passing in front of a mirror at the prison and that, amongst a thousand others ordeals, always reminded him of the cruel destiny his wife met. He simply couldn't bring himself to ask anyone to cut them or even do it himself, it would have brought back too many memories that he, at the time, preferred to avoid.

As months went by, he finally learned how to deal with his painful past. And of course ever since Michonne came into his life and reminded him of what should really matter for him, which is his children and family, he finally had once again a reason to look forward to the future and stop torturing himself with what had been. Since then he began to have a new outlook on his hair: he didn't let it grow wildly out of fear and avoidance anymore, but because he was no more bound to the restrictions of the past. He was becoming another person, a better man, a better father and his long hair was just one of its physical manifestations. But lately, since the war ended really, he's been thinking about Carl more and more, and about the world he wants to build with his friends and family. He doesn't wish to become the man he was before the apocalypse, certainly not, but reading Carl's letter and his memory of him reminded him of some of the good things he had and was before and that he had to let go of to make sure that his family survived. He wanted to live up to Carl's dream and expectations and he's been trying really hard to do it for the past months since peace was finally achieved. So it's no surprise that his hair has somehow been on the forefront of his mind. He's never been one to be preoccupied with his appearance, but lately he hasn't been able to shake the feeling that he should get his old looks back. And honestly he didn't plan on doing this at this precise time; this was a pure spur-of-the-moment action that he felt like he was going to regret soon judging by his beloved longtime-girlfriend's reaction. He should have been sneakier about it, maybe locked the door or put Judith on watch…

She observes his face for a long minute, the way his eyes purposely avoid hers, the way his expression seems closed-off but a good look at him allows her to detect the apprehension he's trying to hide. His right index finger is nervously tapping on the rim of the sink and she understands that this whole situation is making him nervous.

"I can see that, but why didn't you at least give me a warning?"

He whips his head at her, surprised by the line of questioning. As if she didn't know why he didn't… But looking at the concerned way she was eying his head full of curls, he chuckled lightly: of course she would be upset because he was going to annihilate her fingers' playpen.

"Well I didn't think that I needed to-," he tries to reason but he knows by looking at her that she can already tell that he's being untruthful.

She cocks her head at him and he knows he's in trouble.

"I told you about putting beads in my hair, Rick. Hell, I told you that the second I thought about it."

"Yeah, I know. But I thought that it was because you were insecure about the way it would look and you wanted my opinion on that," he says coyly.

Now he's just messing with her, and they both know it. He smirks at her in a very boyish way and she gives him her most unimpressed stare even though he can see her eyes twinkling. She's not going to succumb to his charm right now.

"First of all I'm not insecure about any part of my body and you of all people should know that, she winked at him flirtatiously without changing her stance and watched him blush. Neither should you, by the way, if that's what's going on here-"

"It's not," he retorts timidly, warming up under her appreciative stare at his frame.

"Alright. Secondly, of course I wanted your opinion. You're my person, I want your input on every important choice I make. I just thought you were the same," she says a little timidly too.

He knows she's not used to admitting things like that. In fact what would sound to many like an emotional game is nothing but a sweet confession coming from her. Their relationship is special in every sense of the word, they mostly manage to understand each other without using words. Of course it's not rare for them to lay their feelings in front of the other because, if anything, they both wanted to build something based on honesty and communication, but it doesn't mean that it's any easier for them to talk this openly about what exactly they expect from the other, especially if it shines light on some of their insecurities. Because deep down they're both still secretly afraid that the other might decide someday that they do not want them the way they do, or might leave them for some reason or another. Because, let's face it, they're both far from perfect and even if their guts tell them both that they've found their match in each other, that sentiment somehow lingers. And the truth is that in this world they live in separation and abandonment were so common fearing them was almost nonsensical. But that didn't prevent anyone from feeling it. It's a stupid irrational fear that they have talked about profusely but that only time will erase. For now, they've both aware that only communication could help them. And while he usually doesn't agree on the fact that hair alteration is, per se, an important choice, he's certainly not going to contradict her right now.

"I know," he says approaching her. "I am."

He takes her hands in his and starts kissing her knuckles.

"It's just that lately-. It's…. I mean…"

He's been getting better at it, but communication is an aspect of his private life that he still struggles with. But in that moment he knows that being honest and open is the only way to go. He inhales profoundly, coating his lungs with her intoxicating sweet perfume, then opens his eyes to look straight at her.

"I-I've been feelin' like it's time, y'know?"

She nods slightly, allowing him to explain further his reasoning.

"I'm ready to stop running from what was before. God knows I don't wanna go back to it, he insists, squeezing her hands harder to remind her that he wouldn't want to go back to a world where she wasn't his and him hers, but I want to embrace what Carl saw back then, what made me who I am. Y'know ?", he still asks unsure of the clarity of the message he's trying to convey.

"And you think you need to do that by cutting your hair?" she wonders doubtfully.

"No. I want to do that amongst other things by cutting my hair for the first time in years."

For a while there's only silence between the two of them, during which she seems to mull over what he just told her. After a few minutes, she starts to relax and nods comprehensively.

"Alright, I get it," she reassures him, giving him a sad but loving sympathetic smile.

She caresses his face tenderly and for a moment he thinks he's out of the doghouse.

"But it still doesn't explain why you were doing it in the middle of the afternoon with the door closed at a time when you surely know that I'm usually out of the house. You were trying to hide it from me," she accuses him with a biting tone.

His eyes inevitably do that awkward dance where he stares at everything but the source of his actual inner turmoil and she'd find it cute if she wasn't so annoyed. When he realizes that avoiding her agaze isn't going to help his case, he brings his hands on hips and tilts his head downward in a shameful way.

"I was afraid you wouldn't be on board with it because I know how much you like to run your hands through it, so I didn't want to ask you to do-"

"Oh, so you'd rather have me find out after you've done the deeds? We're supposed to do everything together, Rick," she bites back, a pained look in her eyes.

"I know it sounds stupid. But you know how emotional you've been these past few weeks", he flinches lightly expecting a well deserved outburst for the use of the e-word but relaxes when she merely clenches her jaw and he stupidly decides to carry on. "So it seemed like a better idea than having you cry during the whole process like you did two weeks ago with Judith…"

"It happened only once! And I still don't think that it was necessary for Judith to have her first haircut be so short, and you agreed with me!" she cries out, tears filling her eyes

"Honey," he chuckles lightly, "she felt guilty for a whole week, thinking that she hurt you," he uses his thumbs to wipe the tears spilling out of her eyes.

"Oh shut up, you know that's not true. I told her right away that she hadn't done anything wrong." she pouts – actually pouts at him – crossing her arms over her chest and puffing out her cheeks.

He laughs out loud at this vision, and tries to cradle her in his arms but she won't have it, pushing against his attempts to cuddle her.

"Hey, listen, he says while leaning in, I'm sorry for not telling you, but you know how much I hate seeing you cry. I couldn't have that and be the reason why… It won't happen again, alright ?", he reassures her tenderly, before kissing her cheeks.

"Alright, she quietly sniffles. You know I don't like big changes lately, I just feel like we have enough on our plate, now. But it's alright, if that's what you want it's fine. As long as it doesn't happen again and you tell me beforehand next time."

"Agreed."

This time she lets him kiss her on the mouth and hug her for a few minutes until she lightly pushes him off her and graces him with a big smile.

"Hold on for a second", she announces before going back to the downstairs kitchen and coming back with a high-stool that she places in front of the sink mirror. He watches her dumbfounded.

"Alright let's get to it", she announces while grabbing the razor and pushing him down on the borrowed furniture.

"Babe, what are you doin'?" he asks slightly concerned.

"I'm helping you cut your hair."

The deadpan look she gives him confuses him even more. Did he expect her to agree with his choices eventually? Yes, of course, because she understood him: that's one of the reasons why they worked so well together. But did he expect her to do it so quickly ? Certainly not. And that's why he's starting to dread the outcome of this newfound resolution of hers.

She positions herself right behind him, and turns on the electric engine. He grimaces but quickly wipes it off his face before she sees it and gives him an earful.

"I don't think that's a great idea…."

"Why wouldn't it be ?" she wonders quizzically, sincerely surprised.

"Well because-" he starts off but stops immediately when he sees the clear excitement on her face.

"I want to," she reassures him before grabbing one of his curls and starts twirling it around her fingers

"Alright then," he gives in, smiling at her.

But his smile quickly fades off when his sees her face slowly crumbling down in the mirror's reflection. Once again he smiles dejectedly. He knew this would happen.

"I can't believe you want to cut your hair, where am I gonna put my hands when we kiss now ?"

At first it sounds like a faint complaint but the more she talks and the more it turns into full-on sobs that simply break his heart.

"I just feel like it's so sudden you know? You've had this beautiful long hair since I've known you and now all of a sudden you just want to cut it? Why would you do this to me?" she manages to get out between sniffles.

"Why is that a bad idea, you ask? Because you're my 6 months pregnant emotional girlfriend, that's why," he mutters under his breath.

Of course he would never dare say that aloud – pregnant or not she could still kick his ass or side-eye-stare him into silence. He simply turns around, puts his arm around her middle section, careful not to put too much pressure on her protruding belly and gently rubs her back while applying butterfly kisses on every surface of her tank top that he can reach.

"I know honey, I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do this now if you don't want to", he consoles her resolutely.

But of course she doesn't want him to renounce to his wishes because of her and insists on helping him cut his hair.

So for an hour too long, he's forced to sit under her expert (but slightly shaky) hands, finally giving him a buzz haircut while simultaneously drenching his back with tears that she swears are rational and in no way due to her condition even If they both know better. But even though this is the worst haircut experience he's had in years, he can't help but revel in the fact that, no matter what, they put each other's needs and wants first.

And later on, when she mournfully rubs her hands on his newly shaved head, and he showers her naked life-carrying form with loving kisses, he realizes that he wouldn't have had it any other way because, come important or insignificant changes, they were in this together.