Chapter 13
Two Steps from the Blues
"Where… are the marshmallows," Michonne mumbled to herself as she stared into Rick's pantry. She had a tray of hot chocolate waiting on the counter nearby, and its topping was frustratingly nowhere to be found. "Where are the marshmallows?" she called out to anyone who'd listen.
Rick stepped into the kitchen from the living room to answer his girlfriend. He was unintentionally dressed in gold, as he had several strips of shimmering ribbon slung over each shoulder. "We don't have any marshmallows," he said.
She looked at him, smiling at the good work he was doing – all the ribbons the exact same length. "We do," she said. "I just bought some last weekend."
"Oh, well shit. I dunno."
"Carl!" Michonne called and then waited to hear his footsteps scampering toward her.
Rick chuckled to himself, the way she called him like a mother would, it felt… right. And within seconds, the kid appeared in the threshold of the kitchen covered in glitter from Christmas ornaments. "Yes?" he asked innocently.
"Do you know where the marshmallows are?" she grinned sweetly, mimicking his tone.
"Umm. All of them?" he asked.
Rick and Michonne glanced at each other, his suspicious reply making them both take notice. "Do you know where any of them are?" she asked.
"Some of them… might be in my room," he quietly revealed. "But not all of them."
"Why don't you go get the 'some' that are in your room," Rick suggested. He shook his head as Carl ran off and he turned back to Michonne. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I don't know what's gotten into him lately."
She shrugged. "His dad's got a new woman hanging around, his mom's got a baby on the way. He probably just wants attention."
"You planned an entire evening for us with the tree and everything," Rick said. "He's got plenty of attention. He's just bein' a little asshole."
Michonne laughed. She could only imagine the frustration of raising a child once they became old enough to make their own choices – even something as uncomplicated as whether to secretly eat some marshmallows. "Maybe if you weren't so busy with your girlfriend, you would've noticed," she said, smiling.
"Fair point." He went to join her at the stove, wrapping his arm around her waist as he planted a kiss on the back of her neck. She had her hair up, allowing him easy access. "I don't even need the hot chocolate," he whispered, enjoying the taste of her. He licked her skin, leaving a glistening wet spot just as Carl returned, forcing them to separate. The two of them watched him place half a bag of the Kraft jet-puffed mini-marshmallows on the counter and then step away from it.
"I'll give you credit for not eating them all," Michonne commented, smirking as she went to pick it up.
"That's one of your Christmas gifts," Rick added.
"What?" Carl asked, incredulous.
"You got to eat half a bag of marshmallows and you're not gettin' in trouble for it," he said. "Merry Christmas."
"But Christmas is still two weeks away," Carl said.
"Then Happy Hanukkah," Michonne inserted.
"That's not until Tuesday," he shot back.
"So you want to get in trouble here?" Rick asked. "Is that it?"
"I'll take Hanukkah," he said, quickly rescinding his sarcasm.
"And now you have to watch Charlie Brown with me," Michonne submitted happily, going on to finish the preparation of her hot chocolate – though it was more of a warm chocolate by then.
"Oh, man," he groaned.
"You both should be ashamed that it's not already a Christmas tradition in your home," she said, playfully admonishing both Carl and his father. Carefully, Michonne handed over the full mugs and pointed them back toward the living room. "Back to work, boys." She followed closely behind, stopping at Rick's sound system to turn on some music, sending Donny Hathaway's heavenly crooning through the loft's speakers.
The living room was a mess of decorations – white lights and and gold ribbons and ornaments. There was a giant Douglas Fir sitting in front of the balcony window, waiting to be trimmed, and she couldn't wait. Even the smell of it had her in a sentimental mood. Christmas had always been her favorite time of year – the festive mood, the parties, the shopping, the gift wrapping. She loved gift-wrapping. She thought this year she'd feel differently – this time last year, she was pregnant, and this time last year, she was still happy with Negan. But despite the changes – or maybe because of them – she still had most of that same excitement. She was more comfortable than not, there with Rick and Carl. It felt like she belonged there.
"Michonne, didn't you say you had cookies?" Carl asked.
"Oh. Yes," she remembered, setting her cup on the table to go retrieve the treat from the kitchen. One of her students had given them to her as a parting gift the day before, all wrapped in a cute little Christmas tin. "I didn't make these," she said as she returned, passing the container to Carl, "so I take no credit. But they're really good."
He immediately dove into the pile of red and green sugar cookies, choosing the latter for himself, while Rick went for a red one, holding it in his mouth until he finished fussing with his ribbon.
Michonne approached her boyfriend with an innocent smile and snapped the exposed half of his cookie from his mouth to eat it herself. "How do you feel about candles?"
"Candles?" he repeated, quietly wondering if this was conversation they should be having in front of Carl.
"Not real ones, but lights that look like candles," she explained. "To put in the windowsills. It'll create a nice warmth in here along with the tree lights."
"Oh, well… this is your show," Rick shrugged. "Whatever you want."
She grinned, appreciating that he was allowing her to take over his home with her nonsense. "You trust me?" asked teasingly.
"Despite knowing better," he joked, smiling, flirting. He gave her a quick kiss, her lips tasting like the cocoa, and suddenly, his interest in decorating was dwindling – he just wanted to head upstairs.
"Michonne, do you get snow in Iowa?" Carl wondered, obliviously interrupting their moment, as he was too distracted by sweets to notice anything else.
"Oh, for sure," she answered with a sigh, recalling all those harsh Iowa winters. Rarely seeing temperatures above 20 degrees between January and March. "I'm hoping I don't get caught in a snowstorm while I'm there," she said.
"I wish you could bring some snow back with you," Carl said. "We never get much here."
"Personally, I think snow is a little overrated," she replied, going back to her hot chocolate mug. "Give me a good rainy day any day over snow."
"You like rain?" he asked, making a face.
She laughed at his disdain, but understood why a child wouldn't enjoy such a thing. "I do," she said. "Curling up with a good book when it's raining is one of my favorite things to do."
"Sounds boring."
Rick chuckled, too. Because to him, that sounded quite nice. "Everything that's quiet is boring to you," he teased him. "You'll understand when you're older."
"You always say that."
"Because it's true," Michonne said.
"You know what I really wish?" Carl asked, reconsidering his previous point.
"What's that?"
"I wish you weren't leaving us for Christmas," he told her earnestly. "It's not gonna be the same here without you."
Michonne's head cocked to the side, moved by his honesty. Not that she didn't believe him when he said he liked her – he was similar to his father in the way that he only said things he meant – but here was a bit of proof that he truly did. "I'm definitely gonna miss you two," she said, grinning. "But my mom and dad really wanna see me, and I wanna see them, too."
Carl nodded. He couldn't imagine being without his parents on Christmas, so he understood her wanting to be with her own. "Did you think about inviting them here? So they could all spend it with us?"
She laughed, looking over to Rick for his reaction, though she didn't get much but amusement from him. In her mind, she was screaming, Hell no. They obviously hadn't made it clear to Carl that their relationship was far too new for such a thing. Maybe Lori and Shane did that kind of thing – it sounded like they'd moved pretty quickly – but Michonne was very much still getting used to the idea of calling Rick her boyfriend. "No… I can't say that we did," she shook her head adamantly. "It's a bit soon for that."
"So… next year?" he pushed.
"Carl," Rick cut in. He knew that Michonne loved his persistence – it was endearing in small doses – but he also knew that it could just as easily exhaust her.
"Why don't we start with the lights," she suggested, nodding toward the tree. She'd spent all evening getting them untangled and checking all the bulbs, so she was eager to get them up. And to change the subject.
"Okay," Carl popped up from his seat, taking big gulps of his drink to finish it off before having to get to work.
"You know the good thing about me leaving," Michonne said as the three of them started their task. Carl took the bottom section of the tree, while she took the middle, and Rick used a stepladder to wrap lights around the top third of the eight-foot tree. "When I get back, we get to start our MCU marathon."
"Oh yeah," Carl remembered. They decided the weekend before that they'd watch every Marvel movie, in order, leading up to the release of Infinity War. It would be their Sunday evening routine when he came home from his mom's. "You know, we could probably start tonight," he suggested. "If you don't think you'd forget everything..."
"Jesus, I'm not that old," she laughed as they passed one another. "Make sure you spread those lights evenly," she added.
"He's just tryin' to get out of watchin' Charlie Brown," Rick said knowingly.
"Dad!"
"You sneaky little bug," Michonne chirped, kicking herself for not even picking up on it. "You're gonna feel silly when you actually like it."
"It looks so boring."
"You can't judge a book by its cover."
"It's not a book," he said. "And I've seen the animation. It's even older than my dad."
Michonne tried not to laugh, but he really was funny. "Steve Rogers is gonna be a hundred next year. You don't think he's boring."
"That's true," he granted with a sigh. "Maybe it won't be the worst thing in the world."
"Imagine that," she playfully rolled her eyes. The three of them continued their decorating in silence, allowing the lively music to be the the conversation, Michonne watching both of them to ensure they were properly distributing the lights. She knew there was a high likelihood she'd have to redo Carl's part of the tree, but a cursory glance told her told her he was actually doing okay.
"I have to go to the bathroom," he announced once he was done with his set. "Please don't turn on the lights without me."
"We wouldn't dream of it," Rick called after him as he ran off. He gazed down at Michonne, observing the way she smiled watching Carl disappear. She really liked him, he could tell. "Told you," he said.
She looked up at him, both confused and amused. "Told me what?"
"That you'd like him as much as you like me."
She only shook her head, unwilling to admit that defeat, even as she she distinctly remembered him using 'love' in the place of 'like'. In either case, he was probably right. "Promise me you'll take a video of when he finds out he's going to Paris?"
"I will," he nodded. He continued to watch her as she went back to dressing the tree, and she seemed so genuinely relaxed. Maybe even content. So unlike the woman who came to dinner at his cabin back in July. "I'm proud of you," he said.
She looked back up at him, a wide, happy smile claiming her gorgeous face, and she nodded back. "I'm proud of me, too."
The next morning, Rick awoke to the cold, dreary Saturday with Michonne in his arms, the big spoon to her little one. He breathed in the scent of her hair – something appropriately pepperminty, to match the season – as he squeezed her tighter, running the pads of his fingers down her torso, grazing her breasts. He tenderly pressed his lips to the back of her neck when she began to stir. "Are you awake?" he asked in a husky whisper.
Michonne smiled to herself as she felt his soft lips on the back of her shoulder. She could hear the rain falling in the background as she slowly came to. The quiet smack of his kisses roused her fully. "I'm getting there," she said with a low groan. His mouth moved to her neck, his tongue snaking out to lick her skin, and she arched her back, pressing her backside against his crotch, his morning erection slipping between her cheeks. His body heat was so delightfully soothing. "Hi," she said.
"Hi," he returned with a tired, happy smirk. He pulled up their comforter so that none of it could obstruct him, and he moved in closer, sending his hand between her thighs. He smiled as his fingers ran through her pubic hair and immediately found her clit, making her moan out loud. "Shhh," he chuckled, his index and middle digits already penetrating her.
"Rick," she breathed. She lifted her right leg to allow him deeper, all while his kisses consumed her neck and the side of her face. "What time is it?" she asked, concerned about the possibility of being interrupted.
"Who cares," he mumbled against her skin, the sound of him fingering her wet flesh louder than the rain now. He began to lick his lips, wanting nothing more than to eat her pussy for breakfast.
"We both should care," she grinned sleepily. He withdrew his hand, while his kisses turned ardent, moving down her shoulder and arm as he pulled the covers down, exposing them both. "Rick," she giggled, his smooches sending her rolling onto her back. He licked and sucked at her nipples, leaving them stiff as pebbles when the cool air touched the wet buds. He rolled his tongue along the ripples of her stomach until he reached her belly button, circling and kissing her cute little navel, while she pretended to protest. "Rick, we don't have time."
He came up for air, solely to glance at the time and reassure her that they did. "It's barely seven o'clock," he said.
She breathed a sigh of relief – truthfully, she wanted as much of him as she could get before she left for the holidays. "Okay, okay, let's go," she was happy to encourage him, pushing the sheets out of the way. "Hurry up. But go slow."
Rick had no idea what that meant, and his expression said as much. But he would certainly try to acquiesce, as he positioned himself between her legs and went to work. He used his fingers to split her slit and trailed his tongue down her flesh to wet her vagina, the entire lower half of her body clenching in response.
"Oh, god," she whispered, feeling her toes already curling. "Shit."
He smiled at her reaction as he lapped at her clit, circling his tongue around the little pink bud, then sucking on it until her legs began to squeeze his head. He rolled his tongue down her pussy until he was between her cheeks, catching all her juices as they streamed down her skin. As he made his way back up, he gently ran his tongue sideways across her lips, leaving her writhing beneath him. He left soft kisses between her thighs, and that, too, made her tremble.
Michonne knew she should've been used to this by now, but no, each time he gave her head was like that first time that left her speechless and whimpering. He was so skilled at this gentle fervor, where he was voraciously devoured her, but still managed to be so attentive, taking his time to get her right. He liked to drown in her pussy, using his whole face to drive her insane. He made out with her clit, sucking softly with those fucking lips of his. His beard left her feeling ticklish as it kissed her skin, grazing her thighs, always leaving his facial hair wet by the time he finished. Which was filthy, but also a turn on, to know he was so intense and intent in pleasing her. Goddamn, he felt good. Her legs were shaking and she couldn't stop them, while his hands squeezed her cheeks as her body lifted from the bed each time he licked her. "Rick," she whined quietly. She could feel an orgasm on its way, and he wasn't showing any signs of stopping.
"Mmm, fuck," he mumbled. She tasted so good. He used the tip of his tongue to flick back and forth across her clit until he felt that familiar quiver that told her she was climaxing. Her moans turned more fervent, her breathing stuttered. He could smell the sweet aroma of her cum as he pulled back, could see it trickling down her pussy as he prepared himself to enter her; stroking his rock hard length while she continued to come down from her high. He rubbed his dick against her opening, using her fluids to lubricate himself before slipping into her with a quiet grunt.
Michonne, however, couldn't contain herself. "Fuck," she hissed, her left hand blindly searching for something to hold onto. She tried for the headboard but her hand punched the wall instead. She was still tingling and tender from her first orgasm, and with Rick inside her, she didn't know what to do with it all. "Shit," she whimpered again. She had a grimace on her face, the unbearable pleasure making her wish she could scream. She would've done anything to be back in Gatlinburg at that moment. She could only hope he'd go slow, because she wasn't sure how much she could handle right now.
Luckily, Rick could read her like a book, and he began with delicate thrusts as he moved in close to kiss her neck again. She was so wet, he also needed to take it slow or he'd be done for in seconds. "Mm," he grunted, slipping in and out of her slowly but steadily. She grabbed a handful of his hair, redirecting his lips from her neck to her mouth, the two of them sharing a sloppy kiss that stole one another's breath. He fucked her with long, fluid strokes that sounded wetter than the rain beating against the windows. She felt sublime and he never wanted to stop. "Michonne," he mumbled against her lips.
"Rick," she breathed. They were so close, so entwined, she was certain she could feel his heart wildly beating against her chest. While her back beat against the mattress with every thrust. To think, there was once upon a time that she didn't really like the missionary position, thinking it boring. With Rick, it was anything but. He had one of her legs over his shoulder, allowing him so deep, he was probably tapping on her cervix. She was deliciously full of him, and his stroke managed to hit all the right spots. And his quiet moans against her ear only drove her crazier. "Rick."
He enjoyed the way his name sounded in her breathy moans far too much, unable to stop himself from taunting her more. He pulled out without warning and pushed back in only slightly, allowing the tip of his cock to skim her opening. He smiled mischievously when her jaw dropped, but nothing came out. "You okay?" he asked, amused.
"Fuck you," she growled, feeling tortured as he rubbed himself against her clit. She closed her eyes and squeezed his shoulder, her nails digging into his hot skin as he mercilessly teased them both. She could feel herself clenching with every little stroke, her body unconsciously searching for that feeling of him back inside her.
Rick laughed as he dove for her neck again, his tongue lapping at her salty skin, sucking on her throat as he pushed back into her dripping wet pussy. He was the one taken by surprise when she rolled her hips up to meet his, sending him deeper than he was prepared for. He could feel her walls tightening around him and he thought he was going to explode. "Fuck, Michonne," he said breathily, unsure how much he had left in his arsenal. But whatever it was, he gave it to her, picking up his pace until he was pounding into her, her tits bouncing beneath him as the headboard repeatedly hit the wall. He should've worried about the noise, but he didn't, he couldn't, too enraptured by this woman to care about anything else.
"Baby," she purred, her body trembling with another imminent orgasm. She had a fistful of his dampened curls in her hand, clutching them through the splendid pleasure. His kisses left her feeling like she was suffocating in the best way. When her orgasm hit, like a fucking train, she grabbed the pillow behind her head just to keep from screaming. And still, her moans and repeated expletives weren't nearly as quiet as they should've been. Morning orgasms were always better anyway, but this one was truly magnificent, claiming nearly her entire body, leaving her tingling from her tits to her toes.
Once she was able to see straight again, she gave Rick the slightest of nods, informing him that he could let go whenever he was ready. And he took the much-needed reprieve, as it was no easy feat to hold out until she was finished. Not when he'd been balls deep inside her, feeling like he was going to die every other minute. He was quick to pull out after receiving the go-ahead, and before they knew it, he let out a relieved, guttural grunt as his cum decorated her stomach. He milked himself until he was done, some of it ending up on her thighs and his, and then fell into the bed beside her, spent. "Goddamn," he sighed.
She smiled, because that was the only possible response for what'd just happened. She reached out to touch him, but before her hand could find him, he'd slipped out of bed and was off to the bathroom. "You weren't supposed to leave yet," she called after him.
"Well our quickie wasn't so quick," he smirked, promptly returning to her with a towel in hand. "I should go get breakfast before Carl gets up."
Michonne was too tired to argue or anything else, so she simply wiped the semen from her body and threw the towel to the floor with everything else they'd discarded the night before. "Well I'll be right here," she said, making herself comfortable. She was actually happy to have the big California king all to herself, and too hot and exhausted to worry about cover, so she simply laid there, naked and satisfied.
Rick smiled at the sight when he returned from the bathroom with his mouth full of toothpaste, picking up his jeans from the floor. "I'm just gonna go down the street, I'll be right back," he said before she could fall asleep again. He left her with a sweet kiss to her nose, hoping she'd be just like this when he returned.
"Hello?" Lori called into Rick's quiet apartment – silent, really, aside from a clock ticking and the patter of rain hitting the windows. It was gloomy, save for the lights glowing from the Christmas tree. "Jesus," she said, a comment on the gorgeous décor. It was elegantly trimmed in white and gold ornaments and cascading glittery gold ribbons. She wondered if he'd hired someone to decorate since he'd gotten these fancy new digs; it made sense that he'd need a fancy Christmas tree to go with it. A bit opulent for a house with a child, but she bet Carl loved it anyway.
When she received no answer, she checked her phone for the time – it was just past 8am, so she wasn't early. Maybe Rick had taken Carl to breakfast, and by some miracle, he was the one running late. She sent him a quick text to ask where he was, and then made herself comfortable at the kitchen table. She'd been to his loft plenty of times in the past year, but it always boggled her mind that Rick – Rick Grimes – lived in a place like this. Artsy and trendy. Not that he wasn't artistic himself, but in a decidedly different way. Even without Aaron's vibrant flair, she never would've chosen such a space for Rick. That little cabin in Gatlinburg was always more his speed. He never liked or needed a lot of stuff. Then again, he never had a big paycheck from some publicly traded corporation either.
Lori chuckled thinking of her life with Rick, all the years they struggled. How she kept them afloat while he started his business, both of them hoping he'd be mildly successful, just enough to help take care of their family. She never could've imagined he'd flourish like this. And she was happy for him – no one deserved to prosper more than Rick. But it had been an… interesting journey, watching him evolve. She sometimes wondered what it would've been like to be with this version of Rick. Someone happy with himself. Someone fulfilled. She didn't regret moving on with Shane, as much as she did regret the way she did it. But she couldn't help but think, what if I'd stuck it out a little while longer?
It was a silly thought. In the end, she and Rick didn't really like each other. Not who they'd become over the last half a decade. They were together because of Carl, and that was no way to be in a relationship. She enjoyed her life with Shane – for the most part, anyway. And according to Carl, his dad was seeing someone, too. Rick had yet to mention such a thing, so she wasn't entirely sure their son hadn't just made it up, but she hoped so. For Rick's sake.
After a few minutes of silence, Lori opted to use her free time to raid Rick's kitchen, stealing a small bottle of Simply Orange from the refrigerator as she went to explore the art on the bright green walls. Mostly Carl's drawings from kindergarten, back when that was practically all they did at school. It was where Carl picked up his fondness for colored pencils, preferring them over crayons. Of course now, he did most of his art on his computer. It was scary how much he'd grown in just a couple of years.
As she stood there, she remembered that Carl had designed a set of decorative plates that used to hang there in the breakfast nook. She and Rick argued for days over who got to keep those plates, and she eventually conceded, once she saw his apartment and that they fit better at his place. They were striped like the LGBT flag, giving the green and brown kitchen a much-needed pop of variety. But now, she noticed, they were nowhere to be found.
Sorry, went to get breakfast. Be right back.
"Of course," she mumbled to herself upon reading Rick's text. With that, she went on with her expedition, making her way back out to the living room to scan it for said plates. He had what felt like a hundred shelves and she surveyed them all, finding nothing. She checked the guest bathroom and the hallway leading to it. She took her search upstairs to the library, which seemed a likely place to put them. She also knew it made no sense to be this invested in these plates. They were Rick's. They'd agreed on it. But curiosity had gotten the best of her, and with nothing better to do than wait, satisfying that curiosity seemed like an adequate way to pass that time.
She made it upstairs – though not before being winded by the actual steps – and found nothing in the library but Rick's massive collection of books, and again, she laughed. She smiled, really, because he was just so good at this stuff. He liked to learn, which was what made him such a good father. Shane's idea of reading was scrolling through the news feed on Facebook.
Lori moved on to the next room in search of these coveted plates, vaguely recalling it as Rick's bedroom. She'd only been upstairs in the place once, so she could have walking into a linen closet for all she knew. So without thinking much about it, she pushed open one of the double doors, a view of Rick's bed staring back at her; and in the bed, a naked woman splayed across it, fast asleep. Lori let out a small gasp, but she wasn't shocked enough to close the door. Not yet. She stared, enviously, at this woman, who looked like she'd just been properly fucked. She could even smell the sex in the air. There was a towel on the floor nearby, and Lori could guess what it had been for. The woman had one of her legs hanging off the bed, too worn out to pull it onto the mattress, it seemed. The rest of her was twisted in the sheets, which just barely covered her; her perfect, gravity-defying breasts and the flattest stomach she'd ever seen. While Lori stood there four months pregnant, feeling as big as a house already, but certainly in comparison. It was what she deserved for being creepy, but shit. Shit, shit, shit.
She stood there for all of three seconds, but it felt like three minutes as she realized where she was, what was happening. This was Rick's girlfriend. Shit. She quietly closed the door and tiptoed her way back downstairs as silently as she could, cursing with every step. She had just crossed so many lines and she knew it. And intrigue was no excuse. Shit.
When Lori got back to the living room, she decided to try again, feeling as though the girlfriend should know someone was there. She wished she could remember the name Carl had given her. "Hello?" she called loudly, making sure to yell near the staircase this time. She also knocked on a nearby wall, hoping it would wake her. Then again, the way she was in that bed, Lori wasn't sure anything would get her up. "Anyone home?"
Half a minute later, she heard shuffling, and expected to be met by the stranger in Rick's bed, but instead, Carl appeared at the top of the staircase. "Hey," he greeted his mother groggily.
Surprised to see him, Lori's eyebrows furrowed as she asked, "You're here?"
Before he could answer, Michonne came scrambling out of Rick's room, wearing her shirt from the night before, along with Rick's boxers. "Carl!" she yelled before seeing him. She was panicked by the noise, worried that something had happened.
"I'm here," he calmly assured her, meeting her in the landing. "My mom's here."
Frazzled and bleary-eyed, Michonne looked over the balcony to see Lori standing there, looking up at them. "Oh," she said, taken aback by her appearance. "Hi."
"Hey," Lori said, smiling politely; she had to work hard not to imagine her naked. "I'm Lori. Carl's mom."
"Michonne," she answered, her voice thick with sleep.
"I'm so sorry for startling you guys," Lori said. "I was supposed to pick up Carl at eight, and I thought he wasn't here since Rick was gone." Inwardly, she couldn't believe he just left Carl with this woman she'd never met and only heard about in passing. Rick would have a coronary if she left Shane alone with their son without his permission.
Michonne nodded. "I'm sorry as well. We must've lost track of time," she said. "He just went over to Merridee's to get breakfast. Should be right back."
"We were up late," Carl said excitedly. It was the first time he could remember seeing 11:00 pm on the clock. "We decorated the Christmas tree."
"I see that," Lori grinned, glancing in the direction of said tree.
"You should go ahead and get dressed," Michonne quietly encouraged Carl, running her hand through his hair before he could take off. "And don't forget to brush those teeth."
"I await the day he remembers to do that without being reminded," Lori joked.
Michonne smiled tersely as she moved down the stairs to greet their guest, crossing her arms over her chest when she remembered she wasn't wearing a bra. She studied the woman briefly, taking in the face she'd only seen in pictures prior. Michonne could see traces of that person – a woman once buoyant and wide-eyed. Lori was pretty, really. She had a kind face. Bright brown eyes. But time, maybe world-weariness, maybe her sins, had taken that away from her. She didn't have that gleam that most people attributed to pregnant women. She looked unhappy. "I hope you didn't have to wait too long," she commented, observing the bottle of orange juice in Lori's hand. She also noticed her protruding belly. The woman was so thin, she couldn't have hid her pregnancy if she wanted to. Michonne took a few steps back from her, as if her gestation were contagious. But it was just difficult to be so close to a pregnant woman.
"Oh. No," Lori said, lying. She avoided Michonne's face now, knowing she'd just violated the hell out of her privacy. She kept her eyes on the floor instead. "I just got here a couple minutes ago. Though it did take me a minute to find a parking space."
"Oh, yeah. I had to park all the way around the block the other day."
"I love having my driveway," she said, shaking her head. "I don't know how people live like this."
"I mean, the trade off for this apartment is pretty nice," Michonne smirked. "Plus, residents get their own spots."
"That's true," Lori granted. "I forgot this is a fancy place."
She didn't reply, but nodded as she yawned.
"Do you like it here?" Lori said. She wished she could know how much time she spent here without having to actually ask. She'd have to try and pry it out of Carl later.
"Yeah, it's very nice," Michonne said. "Luxurious."
Lori nodded back. "We never lived like this," she informed her quietly. "Our house out in Brentwood is fine, but it ain't this."
"I live in a cabin, so…"
"Well. Rick really lucked out in that deal with Restoration Hardware, huh?"
Michonne frowned, having no earthly idea what she was referring to. She never asked Rick how he made his money, because she didn't care. And hell, maybe she should've – what if he was some kind of criminal? But for all she knew, he was born rich. It came down the the fact that his money didn't matter to her, and it was pretty clear it didn't matter much to him either, so it never came up. Which was why she was so confused, and frankly, appalled, that Lori was discussing it with her now. "Sounds like you lucked out too," she said evenly. "Getting to live rent-free and all." She got that bit of news from Aaron after they returned from Memphis, and two weeks later, it still hadn't left her mind. Michonne knew she didn't have much room to talk, as the way she left Negan was high on the list of egregious ways to treat an ex. But Lori seemed oblivious to her shittiness.
Lori replied with a rigid smile, the comment taking her by surprise. "Yeah, I guess I did," she admitted. She wanted to ask how long she and Rick had been together – since she knew so much about her and all – and she was going to. But Carl came trampling down the steps just as she readied herself to speak.
Thank god, Michonne thought. She wouldn't even bother to check that he'd brushed his teeth. "You sure you got everything?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said, dragging his backpack along with him. "I still have homework to do," he told his mom.
"Whoa, what happened to finishing homework on Friday nights?" Lori said.
"That's my fault," Michonne said. "I was here when he got home yesterday and we ended up going shopping for Christmas stuff."
"Oh," she replied, trying her best to sound nonchalant about it. But staying up all night, not doing homework. Things weren't starting on a great note here. "Well I'm glad you had fun," she told Carl, cupping his face as he approached.
"Did you guys find out what the baby is gonna be?" he asked, rubbing his mother's belly as he hugged her.
"We did," she grinned down at him. "It's gonna be a little girl."
Michonne smiled weakly at the news, wanting to be happy for her, but she couldn't see past herself in that moment. And while she didn't know Lori well enough to be genuinely excited, she worried that even if it were Sasha, she wouldn't have been able. "Congratulations," she managed to say through her thoughts.
"Thank you," Lori grinned back, her gaze flitting back to the floor. "Well we're gonna get on outta your way," she added, pushing Carl toward her to say goodbye.
"I don't know what's taking Rick so long," Michonne said, awkwardly looking around the room for the clock.
"Merridee's is extra busy on Saturday morning," she shrugged. "It's fine. He'll see Carl on Monday."
Michonne didn't know the ins and outs of their relationship well enough to argue, and she supposed she couldn't stop this woman from taking her son even if she did. "Well all right," she said, grinning at Carl as he approached. "I'll see you later, bud."
Lori watched as Carl gave Michonne a big bear hug, noticing that she'd adopted the term of endearment Rick used for their boy. And more importantly, that she seemed to genuinely like and take care of him.
"In two weeks, right?" Carl asked.
"Right," she nodded, returning the hug with a quick kiss to the top of his head. "Enjoy your last week of school."
"You, too," he grinned. He remembered her saying she still had papers to grade. "Tell Dad I said 'bye'?"
"You know I will," she said.
"It was really nice to meet you," Lori told her.
Michonne forced another smile and nodded. "It's nice to meet you too," she said and gestured toward Carl, "I'm a big fan of your work."
Lori was sincerely touched by the compliment, and maybe it was hormones that made her eyes sting with tears, but she could only nod appreciatively in response.
"What work do you have?" Carl asked his mother, baffled by the statement.
Before anyone could answer, the elevator rang, signaling that Rick had made it back just in time to see them off. He walked in with his hands full, surprised to find Michonne and Lori standing face to face, with Carl between them. One eyebrow lifted when he noticed his girlfriend in his underwear, and he had to wonder what the story was behind that. "Hey," he smirked at her.
"Glad you made it back. We were just about to miss you," Lori said, patting his arm. "You mind waking us out?"
"Sure," he said. But not before handing over the breakfast and coffee to Michonne. She gripped his t-shirt to pull him in for a quick kiss, which pleasantly surprised him, and he replied with a slow smile. "You okay?" he asked.
"I'm good now," she said, holding up the bag. She could already smell the cinnamon from the rolls inside. "Carl, you wanna take one of these with you?"
"Yes, please," he nodded, following her to the table. He gratefully accepted one of the giant pastries once Michonne wrapped it in a napkin for him.
"You share that with your mom," she whispered to him, sending him on his way. She watched as the trio headed downstairs and let out a small sigh of relief that Lori was gone, glad to be alone with her breakfast, really. After the chill that Lori cast over the house, she would need the coffee to warm back up.
Back downstairs, Lori sent Carl to her car, parked right in front of the building, while she took the chance to speak to Rick in private. "I like her," she declared once the coast was clear, nodding at him to underline her point. "What I know of her, anyway."
"But what?" Rick asked, knowingly. He kept one eye on Carl outside, the other on his ex. As if they were both his children.
"But prior to ten minutes ago, she was a complete stranger to me. And you left Carl with her."
He let out a heavy sigh, feeling like he should've foreseen this. And he probably would've, had he not completely forgotten that Lori was coming at 8:00. Too busy making sure Michonne was cumming at 7:00. "It was for a few minutes," he shook his head. "Everyone was asleep. It didn't feel like a big deal."
She chuckled, because she knew if it had been her leaving Carl with Shane, it would've been the biggest deal. "How did you even meet this woman?" she asked. "What do you know about her?"
He bristled, because it still genuinely bothered him that he didn't know everything he wanted about Michonne. "I know enough," he said.
"Of course."
"I know it's askin' a lot," he quipped, "but maybe try, just once, to mind your business. I didn't interview you when you started shackin' up with your coworker, did I?"
"You wouldn't even let Carl meet Shane for months!" she hissed.
"Shit, I wonder why that is."
"But when it comes to you, you don't even tell me you're dating someone, so imagine my surprise when I walk in your house and find some strange woman walkin' around in your boxers. You know you'd have me in court the very next day if I did something like that."
He couldn't deny that she was right about that. "You don't wanna start trading stories about what we've walked in on," he said, his tone cool. Cold, really. "I know you don't actually care that Michonne was alone with Carl for ten minutes, so what is that you want here?" he asked, uninterested in standing in his lobby arguing with her.
"Just tell me what's going on," Lori said. "When she'll be around. Especially if she's going to be alone with Carl."
He nodded, albeit belligerently, in agreement. "All right," he said.
"Okay," she said. She was taken aback by his easy concession; she didn't know what else to say. "Ten... I'll see you... later I guess."
"Yep," he said.
With that, he turned to leave, and Lori headed back out to her car, where Carl was just finishing up her orange juice as she settled into the driver's side.
"Hey, Mom?" he said, readying her for an obvious question.
"Yeah, baby?" she replied, distracted as she began to pull out of her parking spot. There was a Lexus parked in front of her that god knows she couldn't afford to hit.
"How come orange juice tastes so bad after you brush your teeth?"
She laughed at the random question. "I don't know, probably something about the mixture of chemicals in the toothpaste with the acid in the orange juice?"
"Probably. I guess I was looking for something more than that," he sighed. "I gotta remember to ask Michonne," he said, mostly to himself.
Lori's head shot in his direction at the mention of her name. "Why do you think she would know?" she wondered.
"Oh. She's some kind of scientist," he shrugged. "She says she mainly uses math, but I bet she would still know."
"Oh..." She was already processing the fact that Rick's girlfriend was gorgeous. And not just beautiful in the classic sense of the term, but simply put, she was hot. Big eyes, full lips, perfect figure. Now, on top of it, she was a scientist? Probably some kind of doctor. Where did Rick even find someone like that? "You like her, huh?"
"She's super cool," he nodded enthusiastically. "We're gonna do a Marvel marathon when she comes back from Iowa."
"And what's in Iowa?" she frowned.
"It's where she's from," he said as if she should've known. "She's going there for Christmas."
"I see," Lori nodded, staying quiet until she made her way onto the highway. "So how often is Michonne there with you guys?" she eventually asked.
"Umm. She's there on Thursday nights and leaves on Monday mornings," he said, thinking through the last few weeks. "She teaches classes, so she has to be back in Gatlinburg on Tuesday."
"My goodness," she said, genuinely impressed. She now understood why Rick was hauling off to that cabin every weekend he could. She had to fight for the privilege to pick up Carl on Fridays after school, but lately, Rick seemed to relish it. It was nice to know why. "Has your dad left you with her a lot?" she asked.
"No," Carl frowned, again, trying to recall the last couple of weeks. "We just met after Thanksgiving."
Lori nodded once more as she put together a timeline for herself. She found it odd that Carl didn't have a lot to say about this woman. He usually talked a mile a minute, detailing every single thing he did at his dad's house; but now, he was cool as a cucumber. "Had your dad talked about her a lot before this?"
"Not a lot," he decided with another shrug. "I dunno."
"Everything okay with her?" she said. "Why are you so quiet?"
"Everthing's fine," he promised. "I just don't like talking about this with you," he admitted, leaning against his door as if he were exhausted by the conversation.
"What?" she chuckled. "Why not?"
"Because," Carl sighed. "You and Dad have different lives now. You're with Shane, and Dad's with Michonne, and everyone's finally happy. So I don't wanna say anything that might make anyone unhappy," he said.
"Okay," Lori was quick to concede, impressed by her son's emotional intelligence. He was a smart boy, but this was another level of understanding that she wasn't even aware he had. She supposed it meant she and Rick were doing something right. And she wanted to respect his wishes. "Let's talk about somethin' else then."
"She's such a fuckin' hypocrite," Rick said as he chewed on his bagel. "If I'd done half the shit she's pulled, she would've been asking for sole custody of Carl. And quite honestly, I would've deserved it."
"Well," Michonne exhaled, rubbing her thumb against her index and middle fingers to rid them of crumbs, "You're the one who lets her get away with it, so what do you expect?"
Her tone was on the acerbic side, which left Rick frowning as he stared at her empty plate. "What?"
"For instance, why does she have free rein to walk into your house whenever she wants?" she asked.
"So she doesn't… have to wait when she comes to pick up Carl. If I'm not home, running late like today, she can just come on up." He didn't realize it was a problem, but as Michonne stared at him expressionless, he could see that it probably was. "She's Carl's mother," he said.
"No, I get that," she assured him. "But it means you have no privacy. No boundaries. It's bad enough she's already living in your house rent-free," she said. "But she gets to walk in here whenever she wants too? She probably cheated on you because she knew she could do whatever the hell she wanted." When he looked up at her, those blue eyes daring her to go any further, she caught herself.
"You wouldn't understand," he mumbled.
"No, I understand quite well," she retorted, but again, forced herself to pull back on the throttle. "I just… mean… she's going to keep taking advantage of you if you let her."
"So what do you want me to do?" he asked. "You want me to change the elevator code? That's an easy enough fix."
"Do what you want, Rick," she shook her head. "Don't do it because I said so. Then you're just putting yourself in the same boat with me."
"I'm askin' for your suggestion."
She stared at him, stubbornly biting at her lip. "Then change the code," she said quietly.
Without hesitation, he picked himself up, taking their empty plates with him and dropping them off at the sink before heading to his alarm system. With a few quick prompts, he changed the elevator code from a variation of Carl's birthday to the date of the moon landing. He returned to Michonne with a smirk on his face as he said, "That wasn't so hard, was it." He punctuated the remark with a kiss to her neck before reclaiming his seat.
"I feel like you're the one that made that more difficult than it needed to be," she sent back, her bare foot reaching out to touch his knee. She smiled at him, and suddenly all the tension in the room subsided. "I can't believe you dated her," she said, shaking her head again. "For ten years?"
Rick laughed. He nodded knowingly. Because he couldn't believe it either sometimes. "What'd she say to you?"
"Nothing out of line," she shrugged, her finger absently playing with the opening of her coffee lid. "It was just… her whole aura. You just… you kinda get the feeling she's hard inside."
"That's an interesting way to describe it," he agreed.
"You can tell she wants to be personable, but she doesn't know how to be. She knows how to be nice, but not warm."
"Before a couple of weeks ago, some people might've said the same thing about you," he remarked.
"Shut up," she chuckled. "At least I know that about myself."
"You are very self aware," he nodded. As he sat back in his chair, he allowed her foot to rest in his lap. "You also try to work through it, and I don't think Lori knows the first thing about that."
Michonne offered a half-hearted smile at his assessment. He would've made a good therapist, she thought. Maybe it was why she was often both comfortable with and scared of him. "She wasn't always like this, was she?" she asked.
"Was she always like this," he repeated with a big exhale, attempting to retread the entirety of their time together. "She wasn't," he decided thoughtfully. "I think… a lot of her issues come from the fact that she really doesn't know what she wants. Y'know, she worked at some pharmaceutical company when we met, just tryin' to make ends meet, and then she got a pretty-good-paying thing with Bridgestone, but it was never really what she wanted," he explained. "And I think she just got stuck there."
Michonne nodded.
"And Carl wasn't… he wasn't planned," he intimated quietly. "But he became her identity. People would call her 'Carl's Mom' instead of her name, and I dunno what that does to someone. I really don't. But it just felt like... she lost herself."
Her eyebrows furrowed as she listened to him, as he described the other side of motherhood. She even knew women – coworkers, family – who loved their kids with everything they had, but couldn't avoid postpartum depression. Or plain old clinical depression. She didn't think about it much, because she was often too busy working through her own trauma, but the truth was that having children didn't always magically make life better. Lori was the tale of what could happen when you don't lose your baby. Maybe you lose you.
"And I sympathize with that," Rick went on. "I stayed, even when neither of us were happy. Probably would've stayed forever if she hadn't done what she did…"
Michonne inhaled sharply as Negan flashed in her mind – would that have been their fate if she hadn't walked away? Would she have just ended up breaking his heart some other way? She needed a subject change. "You wanna split a cinnamon roll?" she asked.
"Sure," he shrugged, watching her hop down from her seat and saunter across the kitchen, still wearing his drawers, which made him chuckle. "You really thought someone was breakin' in here at eight in the morning?"
"I didn't know!" she defended herself, regretting telling him that now. "I was knocked out, thanks to you, and then I heard noise. But not, like, loud noise. It just felt like something strange was afoot and I needed clothes."
"They look good on you," he smirked.
"This is the ultimate sign of trust," she said, returning to the table with a butter knife and a new plate. She stood in front of him and pulled the third cinnamon roll from the bag. "I don't wear just anyone's dirty underwear."
He laughed as he watched her lick her fingers. "I should hope not."
"What do you want for Christmas?" she asked, stuffing her mouth with a piece of the pastry.
Rick shook his head as he tore off a small chunk for himself. He loved that all their best conversations seemed to revolve around food. "Just you," he said.
Michonne smiled, her head tilting to gaze at him. "You're sweet," she said.
"What about you?"
"Besides the obvious," she said, referencing him right back, "I just want an easy time with my parents," she shook her head, sighing. "I'm nervous."
He couldn't pretend he wasn't surprised to hear her openly speak of her parents. "Are they difficult?" he asked.
"Not usually," she said, breaking off another piece of the cinnamon roll for him and then for herself. "But after the way I left, they're gonna be watching me like I was just released from a mental institution."
"So you're goin' home to Silver Linings Playbook?"
"That's a pretty apt description," she chuckled. "Yeah."
"I can give 'em a progress report if you want," he teased, his mouth full.
Michonne barely smiled at his joke before going quiet, sliding her cup across the table to take a long sip of coffee. Because she'd decided over the last couple of weeks that she wouldn't be able to tell her parents about Rick. They were having enough trouble adjusting to the fact that she'd run off to Tennessee after leaving her fiancé. To tell them she'd found someone new while she was there, that was far too much to drop in their laps.
But Rick certainly noticed her lack of response, and the unease in her eyes that came with it. "What is it?" he asked.
"I think… it's probably best if I don't tell them… about you… yet," she said. She pursed her lips, waiting for his response, hoping he'd understand.
"You're hiding me from your parents?" he said. This time, it was his head that cocked. "Are you fifteen?"
"I'm throwing a lot at them, Rick," she said, keeping her voice low and even. "If it comes up, fine. But if not, I'm not gonna volunteer it. Not now."
His jaw seemed to involuntarily clench, but he nodded because he wanted to understand it. "Fine," he said.
"Don't be mad at me," she pled.
"I'm not… mad," he said. Or at least, he was trying not to be. He constantly struggled with toeing the line of too kind and not kind enough. He probably should be mad, or annoyed, if nothing else, but he was trying to take it in stride. "I'm just disappointed to hear it."
Michonne cut her eyes at him and his choice of words. Everyone walking the earth's surface knew that disappointing someone was far worse than making them angry. And she had no interest in going on a guilt trip. "Just pretend I'm Lori," she quipped dryly. "Or do I have to have your child for you to give me some leeway?"
"Whoa," he replied, taken aback by the barb. "What's wrong with you?"
She ran a frustrated hand over her face. "I don't know," she said. "I guess... I dunno. I'm going home to fix a lot of shit I broke, and I don't know what's gonna happen. So when I say I'm nervous, I'm understating it really," she admitted. "And that woman just... rubbed me the wrong way. I don't mean to talk about Carl's mother, but I really, really disliked her. And I think some of that may be because I see myself in her."
He nodded back as he could see this struggle on her face – whatever she did, why ever she left, it was all coming to the surface. But if she wasn't going to let him in on it, the only thing he could do was be as honest as he knew how. "Whatever you're goin' through, it's a lot. I get it. I see it," he said. "But this battle you're havin' with yourself, it doesn't give you license to be mean to me. You can't just... say whatever you want. I'm not tryin' be collateral damage on your way to healing."
"You're right," she shook her head, swallowing back a throat full of emotions. She appreciated that he wasn't afraid to be candid with her. It was also why she was so baffled that he would let Lori do whatever. But she needed someone who would call her on her bullshit. Negan with his ineffective suggestions. He tried, and she appreciated that. But she needed someone who, when she pushed, would push back. She needed Rick. "I'm sorry," she said.
"Michonne..." He, too, swallowed visibly, apprehensive about what he wanted to say next. "I love you," he whispered, staring into her wide brown eyes. "I don't need you to say it back, but I do need you to know. I'm not playing some game here. What we're doin', bringing you into Carl's life, this is serious for me." He nodded, seeing the fear in those eyes. "I say that to say, if this is too much… if I'm overwhelming you, then I need you to tell me. Because I need us to get this right."
Michonne tried to nod, but she felt herself frozen, stunned by his declaration. Not that it was surprising, but to hear it out loud, it was paralyzing. It'd been so long since she heard those words and actually felt something in return. She moved in close to him, taking his face in her hands. She wished she could say it back, but she wanted him to believe her when she did. So instead, she kissed him. A tender, chaste kiss to the side of his mouth, followed by another squarely on the lips. "You're not overwhelming me," she murmured back. She rubbed her thumb against his lower lip, looking him in the eye as they separated for air. "You're not," she repeated. But the truth was she wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.