Michonne
"I hate this one too, Sloanie," Michonne snarled, assessing her body in the gathering of tulle and silk smothering her body. The current dress had three layers of petticoat. Three layers! What century was this dress from anyway? "Why all the fluff? This isn't my style. I don't want to look like Scarlett O'Hara or like I'm attending a black Debutante Ball. I'm not new to society."
"Then what do you want Michy," Sloane sighed, slumping back in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked like she was about to start pouting. It wasn't Michonne's fault none of the dresses Sloane chose worked for her. They were her style, not Michonne's. "And no need to get sassy. These are merely suggestions."
Ten dresses Michonne tried on and all ten were disasters and all kinds of wrong. None of them fit her fashion taste and she didn't like what parts of her body some of the dresses accentuated. They were all just awful. Who would have thought this part would have been this difficult. A dress was a dress was a dress… at least that's what Michonne initially thought.
Andrea returned after excusing herself to the restroom again. Either she really had to go or she opted to leave in order to stay out of the sibling's spat going on between Michonne and Sloane. If Michonne were a betting woman, she'd let it all ride on the latter. "So, has a decision been made?"
"NO," the two exclaimed in unison, their tones in harmonious aggravation.
"Maybe we should call it a day Mich," Andrea recommended, grabbing a hold of her handbag. "It's been a tiring three hours and you're obviously not in the mood."
"She's never going to be in the mood," Sloane jabbed, grabbing her now room temp mimosa and taking a long hard sip.
"Maybe it's not my mood. Maybe it's your tacky taste," Michonne argued.
"Now, now," Andrea intervened. "Let's leave before we all end up saying things we regret."
Sloane stood up and came to her sister's side, staring at the mountain of material surrounding Michonne, her eyes scanning, evaluating the dress that held her sister imprisoned. Michonne knew that Sloane was aware that the dress simply wasn't going to work for her. Sloane grew up with her. How did she not know that Michonne was going to hate all of these dresses? Michonne didn't know whether to feel hurt by these choices or if she needed to have Sloane committed for being mentally incapable. What was her little sister thinking with some of these gowns? Was she self projecting?
"Mich, I'm sorry. This is your day not mine," Sloane apologized, tilting her head from side to side as she continued to assess Michonne's mirror image donning that fairytale, southern belle gown. Grabbing Michonne, Sloane drew her into a bear hug and whispered in her ear. "I just want your day to be perfect. You deserve a perfect day. I'll back off."
Drawing away, Michonne tilted her head to the side and studied her baby sister's face. "It's just been a lot here lately Slo-Jo. I know you mean well and it will be perfect. I just need us to pace this. It's all so overwhelming."
"Hug it out again," Andrea blurted with a laugh. Michonne reached out and grabbed her best friend with one hand and her baby sister with the other and yanked them into a group hug, the heap of fabric consuming all three of them. Together they would weather the wedding planning storm.
Rick
Tiptoeing down the hallway, Rick advanced towards his bedroom, sleep beckoning him for the night. He'd had a long day at work and just tucked Judy and Andre in for the evening, two books read to satisfy them both. Michonne decided she and Andre would spend the rest of the week with them; An attempt to ease their way into life with the Grimes and acclimate themselves in the house before they decided to shop for a larger home.
Having the two of them there in a more permanent manner brought Rick some sense of relief and stability. He didn't want to just come right out and tell Michonne he wanted them there so the fact that she proposed the idea and then acted on it was icing on the cake. He immediately went out and bought bunk beds and transformed Judith's room to accommodate her and Andre. He and Carl, cleared out half of his closet to receive Michonne's things, though he wasn't sure if that would be enough and they spent the past weekend helping Michonne purge from her condo, storing everything in the garage until after the wedding when they'd have a yard sale to get rid of all the stuff they'd all accumulated and no longer needed. Everything was moving along just as it should and Rick couldn't be more pleased.
Just as he rounded the corner to the bedroom, he saw the light pop on from the direction of the kitchen. Curiosity always getting the best of him, he switched his destination and found Michonne bent over, head first in the fridge, her silky nightgown inching up her thighs. What a sight to behold. She popped up, tossed her head back and sighed. Something was bothering her and he fully intended on getting to the bottom of her exasperation. Seeing her upset literally hurt his heart.
Strolling towards her, he closed the fridge and stood in front of her, his body leaning against the front of the large refrigerator. Immediately she fell into his chest and snuggled her head under his chin as his arms engulfed her body.
"What's the matter love," he breathed aloud, inhaling the lavender floating from her hair.
"I'm just," she began, wrapping her arms around his waist. He was sure she could hear his heart begin to beat faster as she spoke. That was his usual reaction to just hearing her voice. "I'm overwhelmed with all this wedding planning and I still haven't found a dress and I really want mint chocolate chip ice cream and there isn't any left or that cheesecake we got from Glenn's restaurant."
"I'll go out and get you a pint if you want," Rick offered, gentle hands rubbing the small of her back as she lay in his embrace. He loved the feel of her body in his arms. "And it's all going to work out. Or we can just go to Vegas and get married by an officiating Elvis impersonator."
A light giggle erupted as she gently shook in his embrace, eliciting the sweetest of smiles to splay across his mouth.
"No Vegas or Elvis please and yes to the mint chocolate chip ice cream," she answered, her eyes wide and doe like as she stared up at him. "I don't know if I deserve you."
"Oh, let's be real," he contended. "I'm the undeserving one. You've been my rock. These little gestures are the least I can do for you."
Standing on the tips of her toes, she drew his face towards hers, tongues finding each other amongst full lips and lust. His hands grabbed at the hem of her night gown and began to work the thin material up her body just as they heard the front door open. Carl made it home. He rounded the corner and stopped mid stride as he stared at his dad and Michonne.
"I'd say get a room but you two have one. Just use it and not the kitchen," Carl complained. "Disgusting." His words were muffled through a grin plastered on his face, causing more giggles to erupt from Michonne and Rick to turn beet red.
"Hey Carl! We're goin' out for some ice cream," Rick lightly called. "Judy and Dre are asleep. We won't be long."
"I guess that's alright but be in by curfew," Carl demanded, still grinning as he teased his dad and Michonne.
"Yes, sir," Michonne answered, grabbing the truck keys from the hook and walking towards the front door.
"What she said," Rick agreed and fell into step behind Michonne, like an eager teenager.
Michonne
"You told me you hated these," Michonne questioned as she lifted Rick's blue satin boxers and swung them around her index finger. She was in a playful mood. Ice cream and amazing sex usually had that effect on her. Sharing the pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and chatting about the wedding and life lead to this moment. Rick stared at her with his shaded blue eyes, stars from the night sky reflecting in his irises, and her body flushed over. Damn that man caused such a chemical reaction deep within her with a simple look. It was terrifying and beautiful the power he had over her. Before she knew it, her night gown and underwear were relieved of their duties covering her up and she was in Rick's lap, enjoying a wave of passion as their bodies collided in the compact space of his truck. "I bought these for you last Christmas and you told me you would never wear them and yet, here you are."
"I hadn't done laundry in about two weeks. I didn't have a choice. They were a last resort," Rick supplied, rubbing his large, coarse palms along Michonne's lean, bare thighs. She loved his hard, rough hands roaming over her body. Moonlight washed over Michonne through the windshield of Rick's pick up, her silhouette cast over, shading Rick as she remained straddling his naked form, her thighs aching from clutching his body so tight as she rode him in the fixed front seat of the cab. Twice the horn honked and she just knew some nosey neighbor would come out to investigate but she really didn't care. Rick was the law after all. How much trouble could they get into for indecent public exposure?
"Hmm," she sighed, staring at the boxers in her hand. "Can I have them back?"
"For what," Rick asked confused. "You can't take 'em back to the store. I've worn 'em."
"I want them for my something blue," Michonne informed with a slight chuckle.
"You're gonna wear my boxers under your dress," Rick questioned, deep creases embedded in his forehead now. He was really confused but that didn't stop him from peppering her collarbone with kisses and light licks.
"I'm going to have them altered into some cute little bloomers," Michonne explained. "What do you think?"
"I think that's a good way for me to get rid of 'em permanently," Rick laughed, groping and kneading Michonne's rear, his teeth capturing her earlobe. "And it's a creative something blue. Different."
"Then I'll keep them and have them altered this weekend," Michonne smiled as Rick's hands traveled to her waist, then her stomach and cupped her supple breasts.
"You ready for round three," Rick queried, bringing his mouth towards her chin, the stubble from his beard prickling the soft skin between her breasts. She could feel his growing excitement against her thigh as she lifted her body up and settled onto him once more, her eyes intently peering into his as their bodies melded into one, his name drowning in the abyss of his mouth as she released it into the dark.
Hershel
Officiating a wedding was something Hershel hadn't done in years but he was more than happy to oblige when Rick had called him up, asking if he was still in the business of marrying folks. The query brought Hershel a certain level of joy. Hershel met Rick through a grief counselor that sent Rick to farming therapy. Begrudgingly, Hershel accommodated, unaware that life had plans of placing that young man on his path to mentor. Rick and Hershel became great friends after their first encounter and often Rick would call on Hershel and pick his brain about life and the such, as Hershel had lost his wife to a terminal illness a few years before Rick's loss. Before long, Rick would just drop by the farm and help in the stables or ask Hershel questions about growing vegetables in his small backyard garden. Often the questions would transition into thoughts on faith and God and people. And every time Hershel was there to offer a kind word or advice to the young man trying to find his way in this life without his wife.
After a year had passed, Rick brought along his new friend, Michonne, to introduce her to Hershel, show her the farm and asked if Hershel would mind running through the horse therapy session with her. She was eager to learn and get it right. And she was a natural with the horses, immediately impressing Hershel and from the looks of it Rick as well. Shortly after that first encounter, Rick had a candid conversation about dating after losing a spouse with Hershel. A part of Rick was guilty at first but Hershel reassured him that life needed to go on. His life needed to go on and if Michonne made him happy, then all the more to move on with her. It wasn't a coincidence that they'd found each other and both suffered similar tragedies of losing their spouses. Fate, it seemed, had brought them towards one another and they really shouldn't fight it but accept it and see where this road would lead them. Now, three years later and they were on their way to marital bliss and Hershel was proud that he would be a part of their special day. What a gift to be the one to help bring two people in love together despite where they'd both come from.
Making his way inside his son-in-law's restaurant, Hershel took a seat near the kitchen, awaiting the arrival of Rick and Michonne. Maggie, his daughter, emerged from the back, toting his grandson on her hip.
"Oh," Hershel exclaimed, his voice just as jolly as can be. "Look at my grand-son."
Baby Hershel cooed and giggled as his grandfather scooped him up and bounced him up and down in his lap. "Gettin' too big for Pop Pop, now Hershey." Hershel had nicknamed the baby Hershey like the candy because his eyes were chocolate brown like his dad's. It was a way to distinguish him from the baby as well, since Maggie and Glenn insisted on naming the baby after him.
"He's got two teeth now daddy," Maggie beamed like all new mother's when their child hit a milestone. "And we've just discovered he loves chick peas."
"That's an unusual veggie to like Hershey," Hershel stated, allowing the baby to dance upon his lap. "He's so strong Maggie. I bet he'll be walking around nine months like you."
"Hey," Maggie blurted, her attention being drawn away from her father and son. She stood up from where she was stooped and made her way towards Rick and Michonne, hugging her dear friend as they came closer. "So happy daddy's gonna marry y'all."
"We are too," Michonne agreed, waiting on Hershel to come to his feet. He passed the baby to Maggie and embraced Michonne then Rick before taking his seat again.
"Glad you two are here," Hershel offered with a smile. They really were a good looking couple. He could see the mutual attraction between the two of them. "So Rick, you mentioned a favor over the phone. What can I do to make your day even better?"
"Well, Hershel, we thought the farm would be the perfect place for the wedding. I understand it's your home but this place is so significant for Michonne and me. We both experienced some healing from working with you and the horses. It's unique to us and we'd love for the farm to be a part of our ceremony. What do you think about us getting married here and hosting the reception in the barn?"
"That's quite some idea and a lot to ask," Hershel explained, really contemplating the request. Michonne's eyes shaded over a bit in disappointment. But really how could he say no to these two. They deserved all that their hearts desired. "And I'll be happy to host but I have one request."
"What's that," Michonne blurted aloud in her excitement. "Anything."
"Well," Hershel began. "Two things. You two don't let this wedding stress you out and I must have giant pieces of both the main wedding and groom's cakes."
"We'll have an entire cake made just for you if you want," Michonne extended, clasping her hands together in utter elation, Hershel presumed.
"And we insist on paying you for the space just like we'd do any other venue," Rick added. "That's non-negotiable. We appreciate all that you've done for us Hershel."
"I appreciate you two," Hershel returned, coming onto his feet once more. "Now come on back here and ooh and ahh at my little Hershey. Y'all want more kids?"
"Yes," they answered in rapid accord, a light laugh spilling from their mouths at the quickness of their response, the verbal act causing Hershel to chuckle himself.
"Well, then," he commanded. "Come on back here and put those daddy skills to work Rick. I think Hershey's got a full diaper waiting just for you."
Michonne
Rolling up the windows, she stepped out of her car and trekked across the sidewalk and onto the stone walkway to her childhood home. Colorful blooms of roses and hyacinths assaulted Michonne visually before their beautiful bouquet met her nose. Her mother was proud of her flourishing garden and enjoyed it daily, constantly nurturing and talking to the plants. It aided in proper growth, her mother had explained one of the many times Michonne found what appeared to be her mom speaking to herself. She laughed as that day came back to her.
Using her key, Michonne made her way into the house, dropped her purse and keys on the console table like she'd done thousands of times before and called out into the quiet home. It took some getting used to; the stillness of the house she grew up in. There was always something or someone parading around. Lively, full of love and thriving would be words Michonne used to describe her parent's house. But now, it was eerily tranquil, especially now that her father dwelled there no longer.
"'Chonne," her mother called back, emerging from the back room. Michonne's old bedroom. "Is that you baby?"
"Yes ma'am," Michonne answered, walking towards her mother. She embraced her with a squeeze, as her mother patted and rubbed her back. Her mother was a beauty, even at sixty-five. They shared the same eyes, nose and figure and that was about it. Her mother's personality was much more gregarious and playful like Sloane and she was the epitome of type A as well. If you were to Google type A personalities, Michonne was sure a portrait of her mother would accompany any information on the personality type.
"What brings you here, darling," Violet asked, grabbing her eldest daughter's hand and leading her towards the kitchen. "I made sweet sun tea."
"Ooh! Yes please," Michonne nodded in delight. Her mom's tea was the best.
The two took seats at the breakfast nook and drank in the peace of each other's presence. Sometimes just being around her mom was enough solace. She didn't know how strong one could be until she saw her mom navigate through the illness and passing of her father. Her mother's example was what kept her going after Mike's tragic and sudden death.
"You alright," her mom spoke, breaking into her thoughts.
"Yeah," Michonne supplied, sipping her tea. "Still haven't found the dress."
"Hmm," her mother hummed, staring at her daughter. "Hold that thought baby girl."
Springing from where she sat, Violet disappeared briefly and returned with a black garment bag. "I know you've seen pictures but my wedding dress was my mom's dress and I intended on passing it along to you but you chose that strapless number." Her mother looked at her under eyed over the tops of her glasses, a sly smile creeping over her mouth. Zipping the bag open, she pulled out the vintage wedding dress. It was mint and in superb condition, almost new. Lacy and intricately embroidered beads ornately placed at the collar shined, light reflecting off of crystals and glittered jewels. It was a halter style, form fitting dress with a mermaid train. It was stunning. And way ahead of its time
"Go on," her mother commanded. "Try it on."
Michonne picked up the dress with delicate hands and made her way to the hallway bathroom. Within minutes she surfaced, practically glowing in utter felicity. It was absolutely sublime. She couldn't believe she passed on this dress her first time around. Maybe because it was meant for this very occasion, predestined from the beginning.
"I don't know if I ever told you but your father cried as soon as he saw me come through the chapel doors, starting down that aisle."
"No, you never told me that," Michonne sniffled at the thought.
"Michy," soothed. "Don't cry baby girl. I didn't mean to bring up daddy for you to tear up. I know how close you two were and I know you miss him. Just try to find some comfort in knowing he's not suffering and he's probably rejoicing and celebrating with us from heaven. I find a lot of peace in that."
"I just wish he was here... in the flesh. I think about him everyday," Michonne sighed, her mother wiping her tears away. "He would have loved Rick."
"I think so too," Violet agreed, taking her daughter's hands into her own and lightly squeezing them. "Now, turn around for me. Model the dress."
Michonne did as she was told, slowly moving in a circle for her mother to view the dress on her at all angles.
"You can have it altered in any way you want," Violet offered, examining the dress on her daughter. "I had that mermaid train added on.
"Absolutely not," Michonne remarked,making her way to the full length mirror in the formal living room. "It's impeccable as it is. I mean… how is it possible that the fit is so perfect?"
"You inherited my shape, which I inherited from my mother. Child birth didn't have much of an effect on any of us," her mother explained, coming to her daughter's side.
Michonne turned to her mother, a single tear trailing down her cheek. "Thank you mama."
"Just keep the tradition going," her mother ordered, wiping her daughter's face with the tips of her fingers once more. "Keep it safe for your sister or maybe you and Rick will give me a grand-daughter. You never know."
"You sound like him," Michonne laughed, her hands covering her face.
"I always knew I liked Rick for reasons other than his good looks," her mother chuckled. "Now, let's put this beauty up for the big day."
Author's Note: Rick and Michonne having vehicular sexy times! *blushes* Though short, that was a lot of fun to write. And I miss Hershel something fierce. I couldn't not have him in this story. Michonne and her mommy were a lot of fun to write too. I appreciate your continued support. Let me know your thoughts on the fic so far. I'd really love to know.
