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**The Lieutenant**
The church was absolutely still.
Soldiers were rushing to put out their cigarettes and wave the smoke away as the entire group of women slipped in through the main doors, following Grace and Carol who headed them.
Halfway through 'Mississippi Queen' with Merle, the Lieutenant let the music run, mike in hand, watching as the women approached the dais. He considered hiding the tumbler of bourbon in his hand, but it was too late, Gracie's eyes were on him. Sharp and cutting in the dim light of the church as she paused by a soldier who stood in the aisle enough to hinder their approach.
The young man backed away almost reverently, apologizing softly as he bumped into a friend behind him.
His girl ascended the dais calmly, eyeing everyone as she turned to face the group of men, watching as the women settled themselves amongst the pews.
Merle ducked and took to a pew in the front as Gracie quietly fingered her way through the karaoke selection.
Lafayette cleared his throat, about to say something to break the tension, Mountain still playing.
Were they in trouble? Was it the stripping? Or the drinking? Or everything?
Christ he was sobered up fast and terrified.
"Is this what you boys are up to in my church?" Gracie asked still going through the catalogue of songs, her sweet dulcet tone carrying over the music, strong and beautiful as an angel's.
"Yes, ma'am," Tyreese supplied from where he was operating the machine.
Reaching over, the woman gripped his chin and squeezed it lovingly, before pointing to a song in the list.
"Yes, ma'am," Tyreese said with a grin.
Stepping up to the Lieutenant, his girl grabbed the mike and put it back into the stand with a small grin as the music started.
"This is a party, isn't it?" She spoke into the mike, before hitting her cue a little shyly. "We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. We've been talking about Jackson."
The Lieutenant missed his cue, eyeing his girl with appreciative eyes. She looked so beautiful in the dim light, a roguish glint in her eye, a pink flush to her cheek. He blinked, recovering himself, "I'm going to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around. Yeah, I'm going to Jackson, look out Jackson-town."
He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her in close against him, beaming down at her wolfishly, ignoring the audience, wanting to smother her in kisses and maybe take her right there in the church.
She pushed against his chest with a mildly scolding look. "Well, go on down to Jackson, go ahead and wreck your health. Go play your hand you big talking man, make a big fool of yourself. You're going to Jackson, go comb your hair."
"Honey, I'm gonna snowball Jackson-"
"-see if I care!" She finally got free and laughed softly.
"When I breeze into that city, people gonna stoop and bow. All 'em women gonna make me teach 'em what dey don't know how," he grabbed her again and dipped her gently back. He didn't give a good goddamn about the people watching, he was so aroused by the sight of her, pretty as a magnolia blossom and just as sweet. "I'm going to Jackson, ya turn loose of my coat. Cuz I'm going to Jackson."
She laughed. "Goodbye, that's all she wrote."
He bent down and kissed her.
They missed a few lines as she returned the kiss, still bent a little backwards in a dip. He didn't care a bit if she was a little hard on him sometimes, the sweet, soft woman she was deep down was all he loved and all he needed. She was definitely the only woman he wanted at his side in life.
She broke the kiss with a darling little flustered sound, breaking out of his arms and returning to the mike.
"They'll lead you around town like a scalded hound, with your tail tucked between your legs. You're going to Jackson, you big talking man. And I'll be waiting in Jackson, behind my Japan fan." She continued a little shakier as the audience of party goers, both male and female, whistled and roared.
Rescuing her a little, he swooped in louder, causing her to match his volume, her delicate feminine alto ringing alongside his baritone.
"We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. We've been talking about Jackson, ever since the fire went out. We're going to Jackson, and that's a fact. Yeah, we're going to Jackson, ain't never coming back."
In a hailstorm of applause, the Lieutenant downed the rest of his bourbon, tossed the glass at Rhoades, scooped up his girl and absconded with her back to their pew, settling her in his lap when they got there and beaming at Daryl who sat close to his own lady, clapping sarcastically.
"Let's see ya two do better, cabri," Fay taunted.
"Daryl doesn't sing," Carol said.
Fay tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.
The woman turned to her man. "Were you singing?"
"Fuck no," Daryl growled, sipping at his beer.
"Bullshit!" Merle shouted from nearby, causing Daryl to flush.
"Who said we came here to do silly duets with you men all night?" Grace demanded. "As I recall, we came here because with all this yowling, Carol and I thought you'd bring every wild, feral cat down upon our convent like a horde of fierce Huns." The woman held her hand out to Carol who took it with a cheeky grin and headed over to where Michonne and Andrea were gearing up to pick out some songs to sing.
Watching his girl parade off, Lafayette beamed at Daryl. "Dat woman does unholy t'ings to me."
"In a church yet," Daryl murmured into his bottle.
"Ya can't tell me Carol doesn't make ya want to take her home and let her wear ya out."
Daryl chuckled. "Jesus, she has been."
"Oh, dat's right," the Lieutenant teased. "Ya give her dat purple chouchoot yet?"
The bright flush on the youngest Dixon's face told him that the answer was 'no'.
"Yeah, dat's about right. Want me to tell her?"
The man glowered at him, causing Lafayette to laugh.
"You're a fucking lunatic," Daryl snarled.
"I'm getting married tomorrow," the Lieutenant confided. "Tonight, I'm going howl at da moon!"
"You're drunk, dipshit, just calm down," Daryl warned.
"Hell, right! I'm gonna be drunker in about three seconds too," the Cajun looked around. "Where da hell did I put my glass?"
"You threw it at Rhoades."
The Lieutenant laughed and reached for his bottle, squirreled safely away under the pew. "Did I? Jesus, did I peg de po' bastard?"
"Who cares?" Daryl demanded of his beer. "Merle already scrambled his face, another bruise won't make him any prettier."
Taking a sip of bourbon from the bottle, Fay sniffed and nudged Daryl. "Hey."
"What?"
"Tell you what," the Lieutenant began, "take Carol to bed early tonight, give her dat chouchoot and den give yo' petit bibitte a rest, yeah?"
"My what?"
Noticing Grace heading for the door, casting a come hither look over her shoulder at him, Fay stood up with his bottle in hand. "Yo' ah…whatever, cabri. Look, cut that hair mop fo' my weddin', yeah? See ya in da the mawnin'."
He split out quickly, on the heels of his girl, striking out the door and into the cool night air.
Stumbling in the dark on his piss drunk legs, he bumped against the railing of the stile, before fumbling his way down the steps in search of Grace. Staggering to his knees a little, he laughed and found one of Grace's little black boots under his nose. He picked it up and looked about for the woman, struggling to his feet, boot in hand, bottle forgotten on the grass.
Ahead of him his girl was toeing off her other boot, leaving it behind in the dewy night grass and walking bare foot through the grass, heading for her beloved peach tree.
She paused, waiting for him under the tree, back against the trunk, eyes shining playfully.
Oh, he liked that look in her eye, it meant trouble of the right kind.
"You looking for me, honey?" She purred.
He beamed, collapsing against the trunk, hand out to steady himself. "I'm a bit drunk, dawlin'."
"I see that." She returned. "Are you at least having fun?"
"I could be havin' a whole lot mo' fun, girl," he drawled, moving in close enough to nuzzle her with his nose.
She remained still, hands resting behind her against the trunk, ass on top of them, little tummy that had only just begun to show thrust out a little proudly.
He swayed back a little, before sinking onto his ass in the dewy grass. "I gotta cop a squat fo' I fall down," he groaned.
She beamed down at him, before brushing her hands off on the front of her thighs and joining him on the ground.
Fay pulled her in close, close close and pressed his nose in among her dark hair.
"I 'member," he murmured, curling a lock around his finger clumsily, "when dis hair was short and cropped like a boy's."
"I prefer the term pixie cut," she argued. "And it was because of the habit, honey. Mind your hands!" She exclaimed as he reached for her breast with a roguish grin.
He chuckled and pulled her into his lap, his hands moving to her bare feet.
"So, how does this work, magpie?" He asked. "Tomorrow? Ya take my name? Hm? Become a Vancoughnett?"
She smiled. "I'm a traditionalist, honey, so yes."
"Mm," he mumbled into her hair, kissing the top of her head, then her temple. "Mais, dere's one t'ing you need to know about bein' a Vancoughnett," he said.
"Oh?"
"First, ya always name yo' boychil' Lafayette, otherwise ya bring down bad gris-gris on da house Vancoughnett."
She smiled.
"Second, as a Vancoughnett woman, ya always gotta give da the worl' hell, yeah?"
"Don't I do that anyways, Fayette?" She teased, wriggling in his lap, digging her free foot into the cold grass.
He gripped her gently, but firmly, growling in her ear, "third, ya should probably not do that right now less ya want dis boy fired up fo' bed."
She grinned wickedly at him, before pressing back hard and squirming against his hips with her pretty little Georgian peach ass.
"I see," he muttered, "I get what yo' after now."
Bringing his hands up from her foot, he wriggled his fingers against her ribs, causing her to gasp and jerk away. He continued his torment, following her as she flopped back onto the grass, giggling and squirming.
"Naw, ya gotta deal with the repercussions of yo' actions, girl!" He scolded, brushing his fingers across her neck and behind her ears. "Grindin' all up on me like some hellcat all geared up fo' trouble!"
She flopped and squealed, getting good and wet all down her backside from the grass.
Finally he stopped, laying his head down on her thigh gingerly, his large hand moving to touch her stomach, a cat-like smile curling the corners of his lips, as she stared up at the stars overhead.
"I love ya, Gracie-girl," he whispered, seconds from passing out.
She brushed her fingers through his hair. "I love you too, darling."
"I gave Daryl a purple dick for Carol," the Lieutenant murmured against her thigh.
"What?"
"Nothin'. Sing to me, yeah?"
She was quiet for a minute. "Any song?"
"Mmm, just love yo' voice, dawlin'."
"Saturday night and the moon is out, I wanna head on over to the twist and shout. Find a two-step partner and a Cajun beat, when it lifts me up, I'm gonna find my feet. Out in the middle of a big dance floor, when I hear that fiddle I wanna beg for more. I wanna dance to a band from Louisiana tonight," she crooned, hand tweaking and plucking gently at his hair.
He smiled lazily against her thigh. "I like that song."
They lay there for a few more minutes, Grace singing to him, before the Lieutenant quietly fell asleep, one hand wrapped around her leg, the other resting over her stomach, his plans for doing sinful things to her changed by the drowsiness that over took him in her presence.
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vickih - I like to think Mary Agnes genuinely loves Merle.
Guest AKA auntheddy - Dude, you gotta check your log in status. ^_^
Claire Randall Fraser - I could use the paycheck. Believe me. This whole learning to better myself isn't the party hangout I thought it would be.
Yazzy x - I like to think that Grace is all brass and brash, but she's still that virginal Catholic girl deep down.
Brazen Hussy - Something about those gruff, manly types.
Ciao Bella - I'm glad they're both doing good. And yes, Kowalski is a grumpy, tree-loving sweetheart.
Surplus Imagination - I like to think Daryl would surprise her as well. He'd definitely do anything for her, she just doesn't really think it.