A/N: Rick and Michonne have two nights of firsts, 8 years apart... Enjoy!

Then...

"You didn't take me out here just to murder me, did you?" Michonne picked her way across the pebbled terrain, watching her step.

"Nah," Rick grinned over his shoulder, his face crinkling in his amusement. "People would ask too many questions. Better to hire someone else."

She laughed despite herself. The air here was chilly, almost cold, and she had a mountain of work waiting for her in her office. Maggie was sure to give her a verbal thrashing tomorrow.

Still, the company made it worth it.

"So, what are we doing out here then?" she questioned the man walking beside her.

"I figured you could use some peace and quiet," Rick told her.

"Well, you picked a good place," she looked around, taking in the dark shadows of the trees off in the distance. They'd driven nearly 45 minutes in his old pickup truck before Rick pulled over at a scenic lookout. Michonne thought that would have been it, but Rick had seized a backpack and led them down a dirt path.

"This isn't even the place," he looked pleased with some secret he was keeping, his eyes bright in the fading afternoon light. He turned them off the path, guiding them past an outcropping of pine trees.

"Oh my gosh, Rick," Michonne's eyes widened.

"C'mon," there was no disguising the excitement on Rick's face now.

Now...

"Rick, oh my gosh," Michonne's dark eyes seemed to take in the light around them, illuminating her wide smile.

"It's not the view we're used to, but I thought maybe you wouldn't mind." Rick shrugged. The air was colder up here, the breeze biting him through the fabric of his dress shirt. Michonne clung to his suit jacket, her arms folded in on herself.

"We've been here less than an hour and you're already breaking the rules," she teased.

Rick spread the blanket in his hands out, dropping down on it. "Some rules were made to be broken," he quipped.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "You're so corny." She lowered herself next to him, leaning back against him comfortably. Rick held her close, relishing the warmth.

"You don't mind it," he whispered into her hair, disrupting its complicated coif.

"I really don't," she agreed, sighing contently.

Then...

"You're so corny," Michonne giggled, feeling suddenly warm.

"What?" Rick shrugged, sitting dramatically on the quilted picnic blanket. In front of them, the sun was beginning to set behind the edge of the ridge.

"A sunset picnic?" Michonne shook her head, her legs carrying her forward on their own volition.

"Don't need to reinvent the wheel," he patted the space next to him. "Stick with what works."

She sat down, her leg just millimeters from his, feeling flushed. "So is this what works with all of the ladies?" she batted her eyelashes dramatically.

"I only need it to work with one lady," Rick's wit was as quick as ever.

"All right," Michonne found herself unable to meet his eyes, "That was pretty smooth."

"Gotta be pretty smooth for such a pretty lady," Rick handed her a thermos from his backpack. With a flourish, he poured out a cup of wine for each of them.

"And you're back to corny," she laughed nonetheless. He was staring at her as though he was appraising her, his lips quirked at the corners. Michonne tore her eyes reluctantly away from him to take in their surroundings.

"Do you like it?" Rick asked.

Michonne smiled at his earnestness. "It's beautiful. And peaceful."

"And, no Phillip Blake," Rick raised his cup, cocking a brow.

"No Phillip Blake," she agreed joyfully, knocking her cup against his.

They both took long draws, exchanging sporadic eye contact.

"You know—" they both began at the same time then paused.

"You first," Rick instructed, laughing.

Michonne chuckled back. "I was going to say that this is the first time I've had peace and quiet since I decided to run."

"Maybe I can break you out a few more times," Rick suggested, attempting to subtly scoot closer to her.

"That's fraternizing with the enemy," her hand brushed his. He caught her fingers, holding them against his own.

"What if I really hate my boss?" Rick asked, his expression comically hopeful.

"Maybe I'll make an exception," she leaned forward. Rick met her halfway.

Now...

"I think the stars are just as pretty here," Michonne observed, tucking her head against his chest.

"Better than Atlanta?" he asked.

Michonne considered this. "Not better, just different."

"I can live with that," Rick kissed her forehead.

Michonne laughed. "Good. You don't really have a choice. There's no backing out now."

"What?!" Rick feigned shock. "When did we agree to that?"

"About 8 years ago," Michonne tilted her chin up defiantly.

"I don't remember that," Rick groused.

"You wanted to be a trophy-husband, Grimes. You're in this now." Her tone left no room for argument. She tugged at his tie to drive her point home.

"I guess I'll stay," Rick could feel her laughing against him. "The view up here is really nice. Plus, the perks are going to be great."

"Better than being a bodyguard?" she giggled.

"Those perks were unexpected." Rick pulled her into his lap.

Then...

"How did you find out about this place?" Michonne laid contently across the blanket, Rick beside her. She should have insisted they headed back hours ago, but she couldn't bring herself to move or even look at her phone.

"I grew up here," Rick's hand was warm around her own. "Well, not here," he corrected himself, "but nearby."

"Country boy?" she liked that image. She didn't know too many southern boys with values like his.

"Something like that." He turned his head to look at her, the starlight glinting off his tanned and stubbled face.

"What made you get involved with politics?" Michonne continued her line of questioning.

"I needed a job," Rick looked bashful for a moment, almost embarrassed. "I never really paid much attention to politics before…this."

Michonne smiled to herself, rolling closer to him. "Maybe you'll start paying attention now."

"I think that's a pretty sure thing," his lips were on hers again, tentative at first and then all at once passionate. Michonne gave into the pleasure of just being with him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"We should do this again," she whispered against him.

"We will," he promised, rolling her beneath him.

Now...

His wife broke their kiss, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

"Rick," she whispered, "Maybe we should go inside."

"Think they'll follow us to our bedroom?" Rick couldn't help his grin.

"You're the bodyguard expert, you tell me," Michonne fingered his hair, tugging gently.

"I really think they'll defer to your judgement here," Rick stood up, pulling his wife up with him.

"Everything all right, Madame President?" one of the Secret Service walked forward at once.

"We're good," Michonne glanced at him before turning her head back to her husband. "I think we're going to go to bed."

With a nod, the guards opened the door that led off the roof and back into the White House.

"Ready, First Husband?" Michonne reached for Rick's hand, her inauguration gown just visible from beneath his jacket.

"Ready, Madame President," Rick happily followed her inside their new home.

A few minutes later...

"I think I liked our old bed better," Rick grumbled with a lopsided grin.

"You'll see it again in 8 years," Michonne called to him from the bathroom.

"Two terms!" Rick flopped back into the pillows, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling. "I forgot we have to do this twice."

"We'll win. Again." Michonne poked her head out, the thin straps of some lace fabric gracing her shoulders. Rick's interest was immediately piqued.

"Did you see Blake?" He couldn't resist.

Michonne beamed back. "Well, he's finally a senator."

"And you're the president." Pride was swelling in his chest now.

"Madame President," she corrected, stepping out in crimson lingerie.

"Maybe the bed isn't so bad," Rick amended his statement, reaching for his wife as she came to bed.

"You'll get used to it," Michonne assured him, reaching over to turn off the light.