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Prompt: Richonne + things you said when you were drunk

"Thanks for staying with me."

Rick's eyes moved from the movie she'd put on awhile ago to where she reclined next to him on the couch, her eyes slightly closed, lips stretched into a wide, serene grin. The expression on Michonne's face made him smile, and he chuckled and shook his head as he took another sip of his beer. She was more-than-well on her way to drunk, and it amused him to no end.

"How much of that tequila did you drink?" he asked, motioning to the half-empty bottle sitting on the small table in front of them.

She rolled her eyes, and kicked him from where her feet were stretched out in his direction, groaning through her smile.

"Shut up, Grimes!"

"Hey, hey, hey," he defended playfully, "I'm not judging you. That's what we're here to do, right? I mean, that's what we would be doing if we were out with everyone."

"Which brings me back to my original point," she said in a sing-song voice as she sat up and pulled her knees towards her before draping her arms over them. "Thanks for staying with me."

He could tell she had more to say, so he took another sip of his beer and waited. Michonne sighed slowly.

"It's just, the bar Andrea wanted to go to - which, might I add, she only wanted to go to because that dick from her Political Methodology class or whatever said that's where he'd be - "

"Wait," Rick interrupted, "that Philip dude?"

"Yeah."

"I thought we all told her that guy was an asshole."

"We did," she confirmed with a grimace. "But 'Drea isn't exactly known for her taste in men."

Rick hummed, and set his bottle down on the floor in front of them before nodding at her to continue.

"Anyways, Philip Whoeverthefuck wanted her to go to this certain bar, and it turned out it was the bar that Mike always goes to. And it's the weekend after midterms, and I know for a fact that he's gonna be there. And we just broke up a couple weeks ago, and I just don't want to deal with that right now," she explained, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically and flopping her back onto the couch cushions with a huff.

He tried to hold back his laughter at her antics. He didn't want to seem condescending, and he got what she was saying, completely.

He just didn't often get to see her drunk - this was maybe the second or third time in all their four years of school. She was always so cool and collected and put together. Drank her alcohol in small, controlled amounts. This was an extremely rare occurrence.

He thought it was adorable.

"So, yeah," she continued, "thanks for staying home with me."

"You know how much I love hanging out in crowded, loud bars with a bunch of trashed people I don't know," he reminded her sarcastically, tapping her leg gently. "It's not a big deal at all, 'Chonne. Honestly, I'm glad you gave me an excuse to skip."

Given a choice between going to a bar with a bunch of friends or staying home with Michonne, he'd pick Michonne every time.

"I made you miss hanging out with Jessie, though."

Her words so starkly contrasted from the thoughts in his head that it made him choke on his beer.

"Jessie?" he asked incredulously through a few lingering coughs, setting his drink on the floor again and turning his body completely in her direction, eyes wide. "You think I want to get with Jessie?"

"Duh, yeah," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone does. And she likes you back, by the way. You're the kind of person who can be oblivious to that kind of stuff for like, years. You shouldn't torture the poor girl."

"Michonne. I do not like Jessie."

"Whatever you say, Casanova."

He couldn't hold back this time, and barked out a laugh that echoed through the room. She frowned, and kicked him in the side.

"Don't laugh at me, asshole."

"I'm sorry," he said while shaking his head, not being able to completely dispel the chuckle from his voice, "Did you just call me Casanova?"

"Yeah?" she confirmed as she pressed her lips into a pout. "So?"

He just smiled at her. He was so going to make fun of her for tonight later on.

"You're really drunk, 'Chonne" he told her, as he leaned down to reach his bottle.

"Am not," she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "And so what if I am? You said yourself that's what we're here to do. Midterms are over. It's Friday night. Not my fault you've been nursing that one beer all night."

"It's not my fault I gotta walk back to my place after this. Sorry for not wantin' to stumble home, or trip into the street and get hit by something."

"Whatever," she sighed, and he could tell she was fighting the smile trying to creep onto her face. "I guess I'll let you off the hook. Just this time, though."

"Duly noted," he said, saluting her with his beer bottle.

"Now stop running your mouth, and let me watch my movie."

He snickered gently, and turned back to the television screen with a soft 'alright', the lip of his bottle still pressed against his mouth.

He squinted at the screen, trying to figure out what was happening with the characters and the story playing out before him. But he really hadn't been paying attention, and he was having kind of a rough go at it.

So he wasn't at all upset when he heard her voice ring out quietly only a few minutes later. In fact, he was glad for the interruption, if he was being honest.

He wasn't expecting what she was about to say, though. Not in a million years.

"I'm glad you stayed with me."

He turned to her, about to open his mouth and tell her again to stop thanking him, that staying with her wasn't at all a big deal, but his gaze found her not even looking in his direction. She was still focused on the screen, and her expression was soft, and far-away. It was almost dreamy, and it was like she wasn't even aware she was speaking out loud. So he didn't say anything, and simply watched her.

"And I'm not just glad in the general sense, that someone stayed with me and I'm not alone right now," she continued, her words light, like she was narrating a daydream. "I'm glad you stayed with me. I'm glad it was you, because you're my favorite. But not like an Andrea favorite, or a Sasha or Maggie favorite. A different favorite. A more favorite. More than them. More than that."

His heart literally stopped for a second or two.

His head reeled, and his stomach flipped and twisted, suddenly making him even more glad he'd stuck to one beer, because anything more than that and he feared he'd be on the way to the bathroom right now to chuck up anything he'd consumed in the past few hours.

And she lied there, merely watching her movie, as if she hadn't said a word.

Because you're my favorite.

Her words echoed in his head, bouncing back and forth in his brain over and over again. His palms started to sweat, and his throat was dry and his tongue was tangled, but he managed to gather himself enough to say something.

"'Chonne," he breathed.

She hummed in question, and turned to him lazily, looking like she was about to playfully scolding him for distracting her again, until she saw the flabbergasted look on his face. Her eyes widened, and she sat up and leaned in his direction.

"What?"

He let out a short breath and blinked slowly, trying to pull his thoughts together into something cohesive.

"Michonne," he said, biting his lip.

Suddenly, her face fell.

"Shit."

She threw her hand over her mouth and stared at him, shaking her head back and forth slightly.

"Shit. Shit, I didn't say that out loud. Did I say that out loud?" she asked, her voice muffled from her palm pressed against her lips.

Before he could even get a word out, she went to get up off the couch, seemingly trying to put as much space between the two of them as possible. But he reached out and grabbed her wrist, and she turned towards him, her expression still twisted in distress. He smiled gently, attempting to put her at ease.

"Will you sit with me here for a second?"

She hesitated, but eventually nodded and sat back down, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. He moved his hand from her wrist so that he could hold her hand, and twined their fingers together, quickly, before he could lose his nerve.

He heard her breath hitch in her throat, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she turned her head so she could stare at their clasped hands.

"Did you mean it?" he asked her softly. "What you just said - that I'm your favorite, more than everyone else. Did you mean that? Is that true?"

She didn't answer right away, and he was about to ask her again when he saw her give him the smallest nod.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yeah, it is."

He couldn't stop the grin that began to turn up his lips, and he wished she was looking at him, so she could see it too.

She started to pull away again, but he tightened his grip on her hand and leaned into her, putting his lips at her.

"Can I tell you something now? A secret?"

She nodded again.

"You're my favorite, too," he told her. He could hear the smile in his own voice, and hoped she could hear it, too. "You're my favorite, and not like Shane is, or Glenn or Daryl. You're my more favorite."

She pulled back a bit so she could gaze up at him. Her eyes were still wide, but they were bright now, and he reached up with his free hand to cup her cheek.

"You've been my more favorite for a long time," he admitted.

And before he could have a second to think of something else to say, or blink, or even breathe, she leaned up and kissed him.

It was everything he had wanted it to be, everything he imagined it would be, and so much more. It was everything he had been waiting for since he saw her for the first time during freshman orientation week. They had been broken up into small groups to play stupid getting-to-know-you-games, and he saw her, sitting across the circle from him, her head thrown back in laughter, and he had suddenly decided that maybe all the icebreakers they had to do wouldn't be so bad.

It was more than he had ever dreamed, and he'd never really liked tequila but now he was tasting it on her tongue and it was his new favorite drink. And he may have only nursed a single beer throughout the whole night, but he knew he was still going to walk home drunk, and it wasn't going to be from the alcohol at all.

Kissing her was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He felt her hands slip under his shirt and her fingers begin to pull at the waistband of his jeans and he felt like he would die if he stopped her but he knew he had to.

"We shouldn't do this while you're drunk," he murmured against her lips, and he reached down and stilled her hands on him before pulling back an inch.

"People have drunk sex all the time, Rick," she insisted, and she leaned forward to try and find his mouth again, but he dodged her, and she frowned.

"They do," he admitted, letting go of one of her hands to tuck her hair behind her ear, "but you're drunk and I'm not. Plus, it's our first time, and I just…let's make it different than sloppy, drunk sex on the couch. We will, 'Chonne. God, we will, Michonne. And soon. I promise."

She stared up at him and listened, biting at her bottom, kiss-swollen lip, and he couldn't help but press his lips against her cheek.

"Let's just be here, tonight," he said. "Let's just sit together, and watch your movie, and just be together."

She didn't answer him, but she didn't resist when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, and she quickly settled into him, tucking her head under his chin and bringing her hand up to rest on his chest, right over his heart.

"Can I tell you one more secret?" he asked her after they got comfortable.

She hummed in affirmation, and tilted her head up so she was looking at him with her wide, pretty brown eyes.

"I've wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you during freshman orientation week."

The smile that lit up her face at his words was dazzling, and made him smile, too. She sat up, and pressed a kiss against his jaw and his nose before dropping a final one on his lips.

"Only took you four years and some beer and tequila," she said, and he laughed.

"Yeah, I guess it did."

She giggled and then brought her head down to rest against the side of his.

She whispered in his ear, "I'm glad we finally kissed. Even if I was the one who had to kiss you."

He grinned, and blushed, and nuzzled her cheek.

"I am, too," he murmured.

He'd never been more glad about anything in his life.


A/N: If you have a prompt you want me to fill, visit my tumblr or tell me in the comments or send me a PM, and I'll do my best to fill it. Love and thanks to you all!

xoxo,
Rebekah