A/N: Your views and reviews and support for this story have been incredible! I'm thrilled that you seem to like it!

Unfortunately, I'm coming off a holiday weekend, so updates may be fewer and further in between. But I promise I will try to get another chapter up within the week.

Please enjoy chapter 4!

"Fuck that guy," Daryl squinted out across the road to where the trucks were being unloaded. His arms were full, but that did not stop him from pausing to shoot daggers where Mike was standing.

"Agreed," Glenn seconded the feeling, adjusting his ballcap before bending down to retrieve another crate. "Who the hell does he think he is?"

"Michonne's ex, apparently," Rick took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly through his nose. His carefully maintained composure was beginning to slip the longer that Mike swaggered around, staring at Michonne. Rick wanted to knock the teeth out of that perfect, white smile.

"Did she mention him?" Glenn asked. "Before?"

"Before what?" Rick had to scoff. "We've been married a week."

Glenn shrugged. "Still."

"I haven't told her about Lori," Rick fully intended to, but there had not been the time. He didn't want to waste the first few days together discussing old flames. He hadn't anticipated one of them showing up with the cargo.

"She doesn't look like she's thrilled to see him," Glenn pointed out, shoving boxes aside.

"She might kill him before you do," Daryl chuckled.

"No one's killing any one," the statement left Rick's mouth reluctantly. He chanced a glance to where Michonne was deep in conversation with her father.

"Sure," Daryl did nothing to disguise his sardonic tone.

"Rick?"

All three men spun on their heels. Michonne's friends were staring back at them, the bouncy brunette hiding just slightly behind the woman with the curly hair.

"Hey," Rick sat down the burden he was holding to shake hands, quickly introducing his friends to the women he now knew as Sasha and Maggie. Daryl and Glenn snapped to attention at once, suddenly less interested in Michonne's ex.

"We've heard good things about you," Sasha started in, her voice clear and level. She was a striking woman for someone so petite, the kind of person Rick doubted suffered fools. She stared at him through a mountain of kinky hair, her wide eyes seemingly looking right through him. "Michonne likes you a lot."

"A lot," Maggie emphasized, her short hair fluttering in the breeze.

"Don't let Mike mess it up for you," Sasha continued, rolling her eyes with finesse. "He's just bitter."

"So bitter," Maggie threw in. "And a jerk."

"Right," Sasha agreed. "I'm sure Michonne will tell you."

"You think he's a threat?" Rick stood up straighter, flickering his eyes to the tall, dark and handsome man currently chatting it up with King Ezekiel.

"Nah," Sasha's answer was instantaneous. "He's mostly a good guy. Just a dumbass." She shrugged. Rick had to chuckle.

"I'll see what my wife thinks," it seemed important to claim her this way, especially around strangers.

"Probably a good idea," Sasha nodded, something almost like admiration flickering in her eyes.

Struck by an idea, Rick looked away from Michonne's friends and to the woman in question. Her brow was creased, the little divot between her brows putting him in mind of their time together before their marriage. It was her game face, he realized, the one she wore when she shut everything else out.

"Can you guys take over here?" he delegated his first task as co-leader.

"We got it man," Glenn nodded emphatically.

"Handle what you need to," Daryl was already back to work, heaving supplies onto a nearby handcart.

"The ladies can pull your weight," Glenn teased. Maggie smiled brightly back at him.

Satisfied, Rick walked across the street, aware of Mike's eyes on him as he beelined for Michonne.

"Excuse me, sir?" his southern manners had never failed him before. He trusted them to hold up now. Michonne's father looked up interestedly at him. "Do you mind if I borrow Michonne for a moment?"

Michonne glanced up at him, then quickly nodded to her father. "We need to talk," she confided quietly as they moved away from the crowd.

"I know," he grabbed her hand, directing them both to what soon would be town hall. "Let me show you something."

They walked past dozens of people setting up shelves and up a winding staircase, emerging on the landing of the tower that overlooked their town. Mike was just a speck up here, a minor issue. Rick almost sighed in relief. He missed being alone with Michonne already.

"I'm sorry to ask you this so early," he started, hands on his waist. "But what's going on with Mike?"

"Nothing," Michonne wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the breeze. Rick stepped in front of her, taking the brunt of the wind blowing through the balcony.

"Does he know that?" Rick asked patiently, wishing he was kissing her instead of questioning her.

"He's just jealous," she almost hissed the statement out, her face twisting in disgust. "He has no right."

Rick felt a flare of jealousy himself. He didn't like the idea of Mike at all, of something unresolved between Michonne and another man. Michonne sighed, deflated, and Rick took an encouraging step towards her. At once, she began to explain.

"My parents didn't know about Mike and I," Michonne's voice was low, her tone measured. "We didn't date that long. It was kind of unexpected, and I didn't know really what we were or what he wanted and by the time I figured it out…" she broke off, her eyes on the ground.

"Did he hurt you?" Rick's hand went to his gun instinctively.

Michonne laughed wryly, shaking her head. "No. Not the way you mean. But Mike and I would have never worked out. I know that now."

"What happened?" he wasn't thrilled to hear the details, but it clearly upset his wife. He needed to know why.

"After a couple months of sneaking around, stealing kisses…he wanted more. I considered it," she was flushing as she talked, withering. "We even met up a few nights. I couldn't—" she broke off. "He was patient the first few times, but when I asked him to go public, he wouldn't. We fought, he accused me of being frigid and that was the end of it."

Rick took a deep breath, forcing his anger down. "When did this happen?"

"A month or two ago," Michonne flicked her eyes nervously to him, then back to her feet. Rick reached for her, pulling her under his arm. She tensed up.

"Michonne," he said her name gently, trailing his fingers over her cheek.

"I'm sorry," her voice broke. "I shouldn't have dated him and—"

"Michonne," he repeated her name firmly. "I don't care who you were with before. I had a girlfriend a while back too." His fingers moved to her hair, tugging lightly. "I care that he's here, in our town, trying to upset you. Say the word, and I'll throw him out." Rick would take great pleasure in it.

She glanced up at him, an expression on her beautiful face that Rick had never seen before. He held her gaze. "I think I'll be ok," she sighed, leaning into his shoulder.

"I know you will," Rick attempted to lighten the mood. "I just really wanted to kick his ass out."

Michonne laughed; the smile that graced her face filled Rick with relief. "Thank you," she told him quietly.

"For the record, I can't imagine a person less frigid," Mike would pay for insulting her, one way or the other.

"I wasn't how I am with you when I was with him," Michonne smiled, shy again. "I just didn't want to."

"Why not?" it may have been an inconsiderate question, but Rick wanted to know.

"He didn't make me feel the way you do," she said simply. Rick found himself grinning widely. He wanted her, badly. Her dark skinned seemed to glow in the light of day, demanding his touch. He wondered vaguely how he was expected to keep his hands off this woman. "We should go," she glanced over his shoulder. Rick knew that everyone was waiting for them. He settled for kissing her softly on the forehead, afraid anything more would be his undoing.

"Let's go," he took her hand and she quickly fell in step.

-l-l-l-l-

"What do you think, Rick?"

Michonne's father and Ezekiel were watching him expectantly, waiting for his answer. From beside him, Michonne nudged him gently with her hip, smoothing the map out in front of them. Rick forced himself to swallow, bringing his eyes away from Ezekiel's lieutenant and back to the matter at hand.

"We think this would make the best place for a lookout," Rick tapped his finger down.

"We?" Mike spoke up and Rick's temper threatened to explode.

"Rick and I," it was Michonne who answered, barely deigning to look up at the man who called himself her ex.

"Hmm," Mike made a condescending sound, like he couldn't quite believe it.

"Is there a problem?" Rick bristled at once, tilting his head to look at the man in question. He had half a mind to shoot him and rid himself of this thorn in his side. Mike hadn't taken his eyes of Michonne since he arrived. Rick wondered what she could have seen in this sarcastic man-child. If she asked him, he would remove Mike forcibly from their town. Unfortunately, she was handling the situation with grace. He would have to follow suite.

"No," Mike shrugged, ignoring Ezekiel's warning glance. "I'm just wondering when you two had time for all of this. I thought you were on your honeymoon."

The smirk on his face was one Rick could not tolerate. He opened his mouth to retort, but was beaten to the punch by Michonne.

"You'd be amazed what you can get accomplished without leaving bed," she announced, giving Rick an appreciative smile.

The silence was immediate and deafening. Rick became incredibly aware of the presence of her father, his cheeks warming up. Both he and Ezekiel looked flabbergasted, but the expression on Mike's face was one Rick would never forget. Jealousy was an ugly look for him.

Ezekiel began to laugh all at once, chortling heartily until soon he was joined by most of his men. Even Michonne's father smiled wryly.

"I'm glad you're getting along," he told his daughter in a tone that suggested he did not want to hear another detail.

Michonne smiled at Rick once more. He reached for her hand beneath the table.

"We want to put a secondary look-out here," he returned to work, content to ignore Mike. "And an armory below."

-l-l-l-l-

"You and I need to talk," Michonne found him in the pantry, assembling the shelves. She suspected he chose this task for its isolation. Michonne had seized the opportunity.

"Surprised you could get away from your new man," the voice that once had made her delightfully nervous now only served to annoy her.

"He's my husband, Mike," she began firmly, her hands on her hips. "We were over before I was married, and we're over now."

"Just like that, huh?" Mike peered around the shelves, pausing in his labor.

"Just like that," she confirmed.

"Your parents just pick the first country boy they like, and you just follow orders, huh?" he was trying to hide the hurt in his voice but it came through, a plaintive sound, like a child whining.

"Maybe he's who they hoped for me, but I chose to follow orders. I chose Rick." Following orders were one thing in the world around them, but matters of the heart were different. Michonne had allowed the arrangement. "I don't regret it."

"What about us?" he leaned forward, hands on either side of the shelves. "All the time we spent together? You barely know that man."

"I barely know you, and we had more than a few chances to change that," Michonne stood firmly on the other side. "You didn't want me."

Mike scoffed, a chuckle rolling out of him. "I wanted you plenty. You knew that."

"And you know what I wanted," she reminded him. "I wanted a partner."

"You wanted to rush it. You wanted an errand boy." He shook his head, bewildered. "No wonder you jumped at the chance to marry him. Good ol' Rick from Alexandria. Always following the leader."

"He's the leader now. Him and me," Michonne kept her anger carefully concealed. "If you're going to be here, you fall in line or head back to the Kingdom. But this," she gestured between the two of them. "This stops today. You had your fun. Next time, I'm going to let my husband deal with it his way."

Mike rolled his eyes, but refrained from speaking, squinting at her instead. "It's like that?" he asked.

"It's like that," she assured him. "Good work on those shelves." She patted them, testing their stability. "You're staying with Ezekiel tonight in the town hall. Let me know if you all need anything."

She spun on her heel, leaving Mike alone in the pantry.

-l-l-l-l-

"This is your house," Michonne eased the door open, inviting her friends inside. "You can paint it, if we ever get the time."

Sasha and Maggie glanced around appreciatively, their heads on a swivel.

"It's right next-door to you and Rick," Maggie observed.

Michonne nodded. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Are you rushing out already?" Sasha laughed knowingly.

"Hubby's waiting," Maggie teased, waggling her brows.

Michonne rolled her eyes. "No offense, but I know you guys. I'm still getting to know Rick."

Sasha chuckled. "We get it. You were right. He seems really nice."

Maggie quickly imparted, "You still owe us a story about what happened with Mike."

Michonne smiled. "Tomorrow," she promised. She was already making her way for the front door, waving goodbye. "Maybe you guys could keep Daryl and Glenn company," she suggested, "they're right across the street."

"Maybe we will," Sasha grinned, already staring across the road.

"Dibs Glenn!" Maggie all but shouted, hurrying to fix her hair in a nearby mirror.

"Have fun," Michonne called out.

She retreated to her home with the sounds of her friends' laughter ringing in her ears. She was thrilled to see them, overjoyed that they were confident enough to live in this new town. Today, it had all become real. Soon enough, they would be the fifth community in the alliance. There was only one person she wanted to discuss it with.

"Rick?" she called his name as she entered their house, removing her shoes and heading up the stairs when it became clear that he wasn't on the lower floor. "Rick?" she repeated, heading down the hall.

"In here," he pushed his head out of their bedroom doorway, grinning at her, a towel wrapped around his waist. She quickened her steps. "I was about to sneak in a shower," he informed her as she entered. "Figured I'd cleanup for you."

Michonne's mind had gone fuzzy the moment she laid eyes on him, the lean muscles of his body bare to her hungry gaze. "I don't mind a little dirt," she whispered, not recognizing her own voice. Her limbs felt heavy, her skin flushed. She'd been waiting all day to be alone with him, truly alone.

"No?" he sounded amused. He tilted his head at her, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile.

"Rick," she needed him, needed to show him that she didn't care about Mike.

"Come here," he reached for her and she flew to him like iron to a magnet, yanking his face down to hers. She'd thought she knew hunger, thought she knew what desire was, but every night was some new way to prove her wrong. Their moans and breathing were heavy in her ears as they grasped at each other, his hands coming down to clutch her tightly around the bottom. Heat pooled instantly at her core from the contact, her desire for him almost painful. She pulled back slightly, fumbling to remove her shirt. Rick paused suddenly, looking down at her seriously.

"Her name was Lori," he said quickly. "We were together for almost a year when we were teenagers. It was just puppy love, but I didn't know any better. I think she mostly liked me because I was secure. I kept her safe. One day, I wasn't there, wasn't with her. She didn't know how to fight." The words tumbled out of his kiss-swollen lips, almost all in one breath. "She never wanted sex, and I never pushed her."

Michonne laughed despite herself. "So, we're both new at this."

"Completely. I've never met anyone like you before," Rick kissed her again, slowly pressing into her.

"I'm sorry about Mike," she whispered. "And Lori." She pushed him, walking him backwards until his legs bumped the bed. "Lay down," she instructed.

He complied immediately, flopping down onto the mattress, his head still craned up to look at her. She shrugged out of her sweater and jeans, then her underwear, Rick's eyes burning into her skin. Her hair came down over her shoulders, brushing his chest as she climbed slowly over him, kissing whatever part of him was within reach. She had some idea of what she wanted to do, but she prayed she'd be able to pull it off.

Michonne listened as her husband breathed beneath her, taking note of the places where his breath stuttered as her lips brushed over him. Carefully, she unknotted his towel, reaching down to grasp him. He groaned, his hands coming up to touch her, his fingers digging into her waist. She backed up slowly, dragging her locs across his chest and navel as she moved.

"Michonne," her name was raspy from his mouth, strained.

"Tell me what to do," she glanced back up at him, delighting in the look in his eyes. Without preamble, she set out to make him feel what she had felt their first night together in this house.

He gasped immediately, his hips bucking involuntarily, and she paused, hoping she hadn't hurt him. "You're doing great," he quickly told her. "Please don't stop."

His smoky accent egged her on and she tried again, finding a rhythm. Rick's hand laced into her hair, the gentle pressure exciting her. She began again with more fervor. His moans were like music to her ears.

"Michonne," he ground her name out. "Honey, you've got to stop, or…"

The pet name was her undoing and his. Michonne doubled her efforts, holding on for dear life as Rick jerked his hips into her.

"Fuck," the curse word came out on a long hiss, and she released him. "Holy shit."

"Rick," she sat up, watching him carefully. "Are you—"

"Get over here," he sat up, pulling her into his lap in one swoop. He pressed a bruising kiss to her mouth before moving on, sucking at her skin until Michonne was sure he was trying to kill her with pleasure. "You're incredible," he muttered, biting lightly until she was squirming in his lap.

"So are you," his mouth clasped over her again and she let out a guttural sound, her hands twisting into his hair. Her husband rolled them over, his lips back on hers, his length pressing insistently against her stomach. "Please," she didn't know what she was begging for, but Rick seemed to, his fingers coming down to stroke her until her eyes rolled back. He pushed into her and her whole body convulsed around him in ecstasy.

Every nerve ending within her was tuned to him, her mouth full of the taste of his skin, his scent like soap and the smell of the outside, his raspy voice in her ears, calling her name. She bounced against him, greedily accepting everything he offered her until her limbs burned.

"Rick, I'm—" she couldn't finish her sentence as her body released at once. He swallowed her scream with a kiss, grunting against her until he too collapsed.

She lay there, panting, her arms still wrapped around the husband she barely knew.

"I'm glad I waited for you," she whispered, her skin sweat-soaked.

"Me too," Rick smiled before kissing her again. "It was worth it."

Michonne felt something akin to absolute joy fill her up. "We should probably get to work on that shower now."

Her husband laughed, nodding. "Give me a second. I don't think I can move quite yet."

Michonne happily acquiesced.